Mariah Carey has taught us many things: gratuitious vocabulary words, chopping the top off your jeans with scissors so they’re more low-waisted, and of course, the art of the creatively honourable remix. For the true of heart, riffing on an existing idea doesn’t mean simply swapping out a teaspoon of this or that—it’s about giving a recipe another reason to live. In this case, I suspected that my triple tomato risotto could also be lavishly excellent when pulsified with beans instead of rice. I was correct—and it took quarter of the time to make.
Category: Easy and/or Fast
Sha’aktoura (rice and lentil pilaf)
One of the more lamentable ways I begin sentences these days is “I saw this in a screenshot of a tweet on Instagram”. Now, to be fair, I could try receiving information in more highbrow, or at least more trustworthy formats and sources but those formats and sources are mostly decaying and I haven’t quite shaken the time-corrupting doomscroll muscle memory just yet, so here we nevertheless find ourselves. To that end; I saw a screenshot on Instagram of a tweet by cowboypraxis that said “i tried to make two plans in one day. as if i were god. as if i were literal god.” and I understood completely; My weekend comprised two such that-way-lies-folly plan-filled days, and yet! This Sha’aktoura from Sami Tamimi’s new cookbook Boustany is so breathtakingly calm and accommodating to cook that it can both be a plan and fit around your plans and make you feel really rather godlike in the process. Or, at the least, like someone who doesn’t begin sentences by referencing screenshots on Instagram.
Tallarines verdes
I love examples of everything-old-is-new-again. Take the—admittedly, likely apocryphal—Socrates quote about young people being disrespectful of authority, or ‘Tiffany’ being a perfectly contemporaneous first name in the 1600s. And I can now add the delicious Tallarines Verdes to my list; this literal Green Spaghetti presents as an exceptionally 2020s recipe and yet it originated in 1940s Peru, fusing the incoming food of Ligurian migrants with the existing Peruvian cuisine.
Peach, prawn and corn salad
I would never describe my food blog as particularly data-driven—more data-damned, than anything—but I could not help noticing that of late, American and British readers not only outnumber those from New Zealand, it’s at a proportionate size that I could only describe as comparing the hair height of a Dolly Parton wig to that of a person wearing a swimming cap. Some of that is the old per capita thing, in that there’s only so many New Zealanders to go around and our entire population could fit into a slight yet undeniably gerrymandered county on the Eastern Seaboard. Between the metric measurements and the highly locale-specific hatred of the supermarket duopoly (and referring to cilantro as coriander) I’m not sure what’s in it for the Americans specifically, but can only assume the ones reading this are cool as I am and as horrified by the same things as I am. This isn’t the first time I’ve noted this palpable attention; nonetheless, upon taking in this persistent data point I feel cheerfully obliged to throw the northern hemisphere another culinary bone acknowledging your being right in the middle of summer, with this utterly stunning Peach, Prawn and Corn Salad.
Chocolate peppermint slice
Although I’d never be so callous to rank food—partially due to indecision, and mostly due to the fact that talking about food in such absolutes is folly and not the behaviour of a real Food Lover—but—I had previously been so vaingloriously certain of my stupid convictions about peppermint and now I’d casually call it a top three flavour. Again, if I was to rank the unrankable, that is, food. And I’m only being rewarded for my incorrect opinions, because, well, now I’m just going to keep making peppermint-related recipes. Like this entirely no-bake Chocolate Peppermint Slice.
23 Bean Recipes for you
To paraphrase Robert Altman: Beans, now more than ever! Real ones know beans shouldn’t be introduced with an apologetic tone—yes they’re cheap and nutritious, but they’re also elegant, buttery, robust, with the axis of history contained within their stout little bodies. If you’re after further inspiration, here’s a round-up of 23 recipes from my back catalogue for all the bean lovers out there, from Palestinian Msabaha to salt and vinegar beans, to freeform black bean cobbler. I’ve broadly included a few lentils in there, too.
Noodles with smoky gochujang bokkeum
Some years ago I posted a recipe for a vegan variation on gochujang bokkeum, a Korean fried chilli sauce, and though I’m no longer vegan, the sauce in this iteration has lost none of its monumental appeal. Here I’ve simply stirred it through wide, chewy noodles with some flash-wilted greens and a hazy splash of liquid smoke; it makes for a dinner of such wild splendidness that even though it’s something of a retread; it does both bear repeating and stand alone on its own merit. Indeed, I’ve made a slight variation of this three times this weekend alone because it has thrice been the exact correct answer to ‘what should we have for dinner’, prosaic though that is.
Ricotta, peas and greens on toast with black garlic
Sometimes, of a drab, sink-coloured Tuesday or glooming Sunday evening with Monday sitting on its chest like a sleep paralysis demon, I want something stupid for dinner that reclaims a sense of whimsy from what’s left of the day. Food that in its odd vividness jolts you awake and reminds you that you’re alive and—somewhat—living in the moment. The sort of dish, like this ricotta, peas and greens on toast with black garlic that is potentially non-scalable because the more people you have to explain it to, the less likely you are to gain a consensus. But for yourself, as a droll supper, sidestepping the prosaic meat and three veg? Spectacular. The next night after this I had pasta, then noodles the night after that, but the day after that? I had this again and it felt as giddy as the first time.
Hummus Qawarma
If you’re going to have hummus—which may be commonplace, but never prosaic—then you might as well go as close to the source as possible. Its connection to place is indelible—as Palestinian chef and cookbook author Sami Tamimi puts it, “hummus with tahini is the intellectual property of Palestine, Lebanon, and Syria”. Here, in this recipe for hummus qawarma from the Palestinian cook and food writer Yasmin Khan’s beautiful book Zaitoun, it takes you from a dip to a feast, without too much more effort than opening a gritty tub of supermarket hummus. Useful and delicious though that may be, this dish is, comparatively, the culinary equivalent of going from a cold ankle-deep paddling pool to the warm surf of the Pacific Ocean at sunset. Celebrating the food of Palestine is not something I do lightly—especially when countless people within its borders are being starved and violently disconnected from their families, culture, food, and basic safety. As well as celebrating, I am acknowledging and upholding—this cuisine can’t be erased and neither can the people. But I am lucky to eat it, and so are you.
Pink grapefruit posset with white chocolate pumpkin seed mendiants
There are a few load-bearing moments in my youthful journey towards becoming a food blogger slash person obsessed with cooking; the epiphanic first time ever I saw Nigella Lawson’s face and cooking show in 2001, winning the best cake award at the 1998 Calf Club, my childhood adventures in microwaving (largely borne from the fact that we only had a microwave, but). Another such signpost is the lemon posset recipe from a Cuisine magazine—I want to say it’s from April 2002 but regrettably I lost the hard copy years ago—being my signature dessert at family gatherings for several years in my teens. It’s one of those recipes that feels like magic, and for reasons I can only chalk up to time management and perception of time itself, this is the first time I’ve recreated this dish for my almost eighteen-years-old blog. Except, here I’ve hoisted up the citrus stakes by replacing lemon with bitter pink grapefruit.
Hungry and Frozen 