Hot and Spicy Bean Burgers with Wasabi Mayo

A trip to London last Saturday to see the Chuck Close exhibition (stunning) and a wander up and down Berwick Street to go record shopping followed by a decent smoked bean burrito (again) at Mildred’s in Soho.

London for me comes in usually two style of visits, the sadly more common visit is a commute driven frenzy where I never have time which leaves me feeling stupidly anxious more than anything, and then paradoxically there is the odd more relaxed visit where things are at a much more suitable weekend pace.

The balance of both hasn’t been found yet and I don’t think I will find it, but on Saturday on a crisp blue sky morning coming out of London Bridge station and also remembering the location of last Summers visit to Borough Markets it was a nice thing to suddenly remember and a change from the maddening fast pace of the underground. It’s a London thing to sell prosciutto ham at 100g for a tenner, parmesan also for the same weight for six quid, pricey yes but presented and cared for by street vendors who know their products. Still though, a tenner is always going to be lot of money for prosciutto regardless.

There were also jugs of pimms for sale next to hearty bowls of soup, it truly is the end of April – the time of this month that doesn’t know if it is coming or going weather wise. It’s cold in the shade and warm in the light at the moment, blossoms are late and have been only around for two or so weeks.

We settled after a browse of the market on buying some great feta and bean burgers with a healthy and fruity pomegranate salad which tasted fresh and good for us. Served in a box and as we stood eating it tasted like the street food I want to eat.

My search for a decent non meat burger goes on, the burger didn’t have all the answers but it was pretty good all the same. The frangipan cakes afterwards were tempting too but not bought, although some middle-aged French tourists were going mad with enthusiasm. A proper compliment if I ever did see one.

Here’s my version of a vegetarian burger, it’s really a patty of sorts. It’s not overly bearing with heat, well it is but take away the heat by adding less chilli powder. It’s more so flavoured by spices and aromatics. The fiery wasabi mayo bites through and adds a delightful cool yet hot kick.

You can adapt this recipe to your own tastes and flavorings as you cook. Burgers demand creativity in the kitchen.

• Hot and Spicy Bean Burgers with Wasabi Mayo
  

2 x 400 g tins of kidney beans

100 g fresh bread crumbs

2 teaspoons of chilli powder

1 teaspoon of cayenne pepper

A pinch of chilli flakes

1 fresh egg beaten

1 lime

A small bunch of coriander

6 burger buns

Cheese, salad leaves, gherkins, red onion, jalapeno.

Mayonnaise

Wasabi Paste

1. Heat the grill to high, tip the beans in to a large mixing bowl and crush with a fork. Leave some beans as they are to maintain an interesting texture.

2. Add the breadcrumbs, cayenne, chilli powder, chilli flakes and the egg. Season with salt and pepper.

3. Take the wet mixture, mold into thick patties. You can freeze these now if you want to for a later time. Put the patties on to a baking tray, and grill them for 5-8 minutes on each side. Be careful to not let them burn.

4. While the patties are cooking, get your buns ready and add your sauces/salad and onion as you see fit. I like mine with plenty of Dijon mustard and ketchup. Add some gherkins and jalapenos.

5. Also, get some mayonnaise and add wasabi paste to the mayonnaise to taste. I like my wasabi a lot, but be careful as your nose will run if it is really hot.

6. Top the burgers with cheese for the last-minute, add the burgers to the rolls. Eat at once, or like I did at the work surface. This kind of food demands that kind of eating.

Aubergine, a peace keeping excercise as much as a meal.

Aubergines. Aubergines. Aubergines. What is about the aubergine that I find boring in feel, peculiar in texture and at their worst, nothing but bland? Sure, the purple glossiness of an aubergine skin and the white creams of the flesh are inviting, but for me, it is a vegetable that is in a mutton dressed as lamb situation. Perhaps if I am truly honest, I find these vegetables (which are actually a berry) look the part but as a whole are a big let down.

Last Summer I made a Sicilian caponata a few times, the aubergine stew did taste good but I chopped the aubergine into cubes and flavoured the stew with a long list of ingredients, using the dishes native fruit and vegetables in a heavy tomato sauce where the aubergine ingredient became hidden away and lost in the additional herbs, nuts and spices. By allowing the flavours to mingle in the fridge overnight it was pretty much unrecognisable from its main ingredient, by shadowing this displeasure of the aubergine it became a texture rather than a taste. After the caponata I thought I was on a roll so I made a River Cottage aubergine curry with green beans, I found myself again quickly back at square one as I was back to the mushy blandness, even after salting the flavours the dish was for me tasteless and dreary.

According to wikihow, garlic, parsley, sage, curry leaves, basil, rosemary and oregano match the asian 18th century old aubergine. The herb and spice master Yottam Ottolenghi in his Guardian column offers an aubergine recipe with herbs that is a recipe that is down to your own interpretation and individual taste, I like that idea and as I read it I thought it might be time I went back to the brijnal vegetable with less loathing and more love.

So after buying four which were smaller than the usual supermarket sizes from the Birmingham vegetable market, then going to a friend’s house and handing two of the purchase to him and wife for their buying a house congratulations present I went back into the back kitchen with less trepidation. With using a few roasting techniques and some added protein from chickpeas I made a dish which was fairly substantial, that was a little less hidden away in spices and more prominent as the main feature. It would go well as side or as a meze dish or like I did with some basmati rice.

The jury is still out and I think there may be some more let downs a long the way, but I did learn by adding some lemon to freshen the meal up at the end of cooking and adding plenty of fresh herbs this may work in the aubergines favour, it still felt like a peacekeeping exercise rather than cooking however.

I’d like to hear your suggestions, I want to take the worried “oh” out of it being on a menu or served at a friend’s house, I’d also like to go into a greenhouse and be excited about seeing the beautiful black firm skin poking out of the leaves and resting on some garden canes. How do you cook yours, what recipes would you recommend and where am I going wrong? It’s over to you, some good recipe recommendations would be great.

Happy Easter too.

• Confident Aubergines, Herbs and Chickpeas

2 aubergines, medium sized

1/2 teaspoon of ground cumin

1/2 teaspoon ground coriander

A pinch of chilli flakes or a chopped birds eye chilli depending on heat preference

1 tin of chickpeas

2 cloves of garlic sliced

Lemon juice

Extra Virgin Olive Oil

Walnuts

A  small bunch of parsley

1. Chop the aubergines into bite slices, toss in a roasting dish with some olive oil and the cumin and ground coriander. Add the chilli flakes or chilli.

2. Roast for 30 minutes at 200c, afterwards drain and rinse the chickpeas adding them to the roasting dish with the garlic.

3. Whilst that is happening, lightly dry fry the walnuts in a frying pan, wait for the aromatics to come and take off the heat. 

3. Return to the oven for another 10 minutes, take the aubergines out, add a good few tablespoons of lemon juice, walnuts and add the parsley, roughly chopped will be fine. Season with sat and pepper. 

4. Serve warm with rice like I did, or salad leaves would work just as well too. 

Two weeks in Vietnam – food, but other photos too.

It is fairly easy to forget in today’s hectic world how good a holiday can be for the soul. Without much trouble we can forget by being so busy in our day-to-day life that a break from the norm, or if you are lucky a holiday can be the antidote to getting a clearer head as much as a gathering of experiences.

Two weeks of no work was my first thought before arriving in Vietnam but after the 12 hour flight and reading a lot of the lonely planet guide it was more so two weeks of exploring a part of South East Asia which I have wanted to see for a while. Ever since watching the 2008 Top Gear special where Top Gear presenters motor cycled from Ho Chi Minh to Hanoi I have wanted to visit the country. I am not keen on Top Gear admittedly; I struggle to understand why a middle-aged contingent of supermarket double denim wearing rich men who drive around slapping each others backs through being opinionated and offensive is worth watching at all. But the searing photography and shots in that Vietnam however did raise my eyebrows high, I notched it on a mental must do after.

Queue five years later, and give or take two weeks ago we saved up and booked a flight direct in to Hanoi, journeying in to the country by the transport modes of plane, train, motorcycle, car, taxi, mini bus, public bus and boat. We travelled from Hanoi to Ha Long Bay, Hue, Danang, Hoi An, Ninh Binh and back to Hanoi in the space of two weeks. It sounds quite a lot to do in that space of time, but the remarkable travel infrastructure of Vietnam is efficient and very cheap enabling us to go to bed in a bed on a sleeper train and go from one part of the country and wake up at a distant destination the following morning for no more than £30.

We ate a lot; and we were quick to realise that Vietnamese people eat a lot to. Every street in Vietnam has a setting to eat food, be that on the pavement sat on small chairs and tables’ being served by a street kitchen right through to restaurants which served simple but perfected menus.

To experience the basic elements of each meal is to understand rice. Rice in Vietnam is found in many food forms, rice paper, porridge, puffed rice snacks, cakes, rice noodles to name a few. It is a good idea to understand that rice is a universal part of life in Vietnam and it is the heart beat of the country, It will come with no surprise that Vietnam is the second largest rice exporter in the world after Thailand. Rice is life, making food and keeping its country folk within a job and career, fields are farmed and tended to daily, without it there would be little else to start the foundation of day-to-day food in Vietnam.

Three days into our trip we both attended a marvellously informal cooking course with the Hidden Hanoi group, before going in to their kitchen there was a market tour which explained the ingredients we would use and why they were used in cooking.The obligatory UK herb shelf in a supermarket just wouldn’t cut it in Vietnam, the usage of fresh herbs and spices are extensive in the Vietnamese food repertoire, several varieties of mint and coriander feature widely. Until that tour I had never tried a spice mint leaf, these leaves were the size of stinging nettles and they were strikingly purple like the colour of a blackcurrant chew sweet. Then there was smells and tastes of different basil, lime leaf, fish mint, lemon grasses garlic chives, dill, perilla, turmeric, tamarind, ginger, onion and plenty others which I couldn’t identify. The tour showed us the differences of legal markets and illegal ‘frog’ markets which were given the funny name as vendors would hop away when police arrived. These markets are ubiquitous with food in Vietnam, people use these loud and fast places up to three times per day – gathering fresh vegetables and meat rather than stocking up for the weekly shop, it is a social occasion as much as an interaction.

It became apparent on the course that like at home I am a messy cook, I left quite a bit of mess in my work space in the kitchen when making dumplings and it was quickly noticed by my teacher who helped me tidy up as well as complete my dish. I thought I would have been top of the class, with tidiness being always a weakness of mine and lots of laughing from others it was not the day for me to shine in the kitchen.

We cooked choi soups, morning glory salad with peanuts, pineapple and tofu spring rolls, egg-plant clay pots and dumplings served with green tea. It’s apparent that the history of these traditional meals come from frugality as well as the basic needs of sustenance, clay pot cooking comes from fisherman and farmers who had limited time, fuel and equipment to cook with so one pot cooking was easier as well suitable to environment.

We also tried the northern comfort food speciality of pho (pronounced fur) in Hanoi, and as I ate the dish there was a quick realisation that the aromatic broth meal of pho a dish that has an interplay of textures and flavours is built around quickness as well as satisfaction, the amount of flavours would have many western cooks worried. But the law of Vietnamese cooking by using abundant and paradoxical flavour combinations of sweet, salty, sour, sharp, sticky all working together so that the ingredients do not shine on their own but become a sum of each ingredient parts. It made food sense, and for a western palate like mine these flavours become so wowing (if that is a word) as the food was so lively and exciting.

This was our last proper meal and by far my favourite, pancakes with bean sprouts, coconut balls with soy sauce which were like sweet doughnuts, rice cakes and fresh juices. A meal which showed the complexities and flavour of Vietnamese food, I’d pay good money to eat it again. If I paid in Vietnam to eat it again, for both of us it would of cost £6.

Vietnam was of course not just about the food but the cuisine did match the beautiful country we spent two weeks in, for me food is not just about taste but about time and place when eating, after a 250km bike tour of the DMZ and a claustrophobic visit to the Vin Moch tunnels our guides took us to a small beach restaurant where we sat on an empty beach after a paddle in the south china sea to eat a simple meal of rice, tofu, squid, omelette, morning glory and bananas. Moments like that can’t be beaten, and when you are in these moments you just have to sit quietly and reflect, but also admire your situation and luckiness so that you can take all of all the glorious things you are seeing and doing in.

Lebanese Butter Bean and Tomato Stew

For us, going to Balsall Heath means driving off the Pershore Road and heading past Cannon Hill Park, occasionally if we are coming from the Moseley area we drive through the terraced back streets and pass the many Asian green grocers a long the way. Balsall Heath like a lot of inner city areas in South Birmingham has a diverse culture; with a large Asian community. The high quantity of terraced streets have a hint of the past, some are a little run down but it’s a part of Birmingham that I do like visiting.

My dad spent his early days here, he would stay with his grandmother who owned a fabric shop, his family had a Jewish legacy, and professionally his elders were a family of tailors based in London. My great-grandmother moved up to Birmingham to earn her money and bought my dad’s mother and his uncle with her to begin a new life as Brummies. One of the roads, a 10 minute walk from the high street has a restaurant that from the exterior has an old shop frontage; my dad told me that it used to be a chemist many years ago.

‘Al Barakah’ is a family run business which serves delicious Lebanese food to eat in or take away. The menu offers a variety of ‘dish of the day’ specials usually from the hot grill, plus daily choices off the standard menu. Lebanese food has been heavily influenced by Turkish cuisine from the Turkish ruling in the 16th century; Lebanese food is also influenced though by its own indigenous people bringing in from other Arabic cultures and the histories of the Middle East, principally it is foods that do not spoil without difficulty on long nomadic journeys such as rice, dates and pulses.

The falafel at Al Barakah is the finest I have had, spiced well and fried delicately, it goes well with their piquant and zestful tabbouleh salad that is chock full of parsley, tomato and seasoned with plenty of lemon juice. We always order flat breads, a staple for every Lebanese meal, sometimes to eat with the food at the restaurant or to take home for later. A big hit for us is the feta and spinach breads but most recently there were breads on offer which had been generously seeded that were so crisp on the outer surface and doughy within, ideal for eating with humus.

The food on offer is simple cuisine but with that simplicity it is cooking heavy on garlic and oils but also light and fresh. Dishes are served quickly like Mediterranean tapas food, an array of colours, textures and aromas of the plates make eating at Al Barakah a satisfying feast rather than a singular dish order. Abbas and the staff are sociable and accommodating, usually offering freebies and new tastes as we queue. Al Barakah gives a slice of Lebanese culture to Birmingham, with a menu that is abundant with a choice of delicious tastes and flavours, I find myself every time as I sit in Al Barakah thinking how lucky we are to have such a humble place to eat with the intention of giving its visitors not only a taste of Lebanese customs but charmingly fantastic food too.

This is my version of their own dish of the day, popular Lebanese cooks will always mention a good stew or yakhnehs, it is a basic stew and frugal to the core, thick with tomato sauce and butter beans. It can be stewed for a good while, puttered to a thickened sauce, bring the temperature right down to let it bubble away quietly. This would be a good emergency meal, a tin of waxy butter beans goes a long way, using up the odds and ends of the vegetable box and minimal spices turns this into a homely and welcoming dish which would work nicely for a mid-week supper too. Easily doubled.

• Lebanese Butter Bean and Tomato Stew

Two 400g tins of butter beans, drained

650 ml of passata or 2 tins of chopped tomatoes

2 onions, chopped

2 bay leaves

4 cloves of garlic, sliced thinly

1 tablespoon of grained mustard

1 tablespoon of grain mustard

chilli flakes

salt and pepper

rosemary

a handful of parsley, chopped finely

extra virgin olive oil

1. Peel and roughly chop the chop the onions roughly and add the garlic, heat two tablespoons of olive oil in a pan, a casserole dish would be best.

2. Put the onions and garlic over a medium heat and let the onions sweat for 15 minutes to soften.

3. Add the bay leaves, chilli flakes, rosemary and sweat for another 2 minutes

4. Add the tins of tomatoes or passata, the mustard, plus a cup of water. Bring to the boil.

5. Season, check your seasoning as it will taste a lot blander without.

6. Cook this for a good 30 minutes over a low heat, let it putter away, you can keep this warmed and ready for when you are.

7. Finish off with a handful of parsley, stir it in and cook for another two minutes, remove the bay leaves.

8. Serve, drizzle over some extra virgin olive oil if you like.

Serve with bread, rice, flat breads, garlic bread, even a simple minty raita. It can also be reheated nicely for left overs at work the following day. I have not tried, but served at room temperature and used as a bruschetta topping like Caponata seems like a good idea as I write this too !

You can visit Al Barakah at 167 Mary Street, Balsall Heath, Birmingham, B12 9RN, 0121 440 0312. It’s open every day except Sunday, till 9 pm.

Spiced Apple Market Cake

An amble to Kings Norton for the farmers market today, it is a seven year old market so it is relatively young alongside other local town markets, nevertheless it does have a notable history right way back to the seventeenth century, in 1616 King James I issued a charter for the market to take place on the green.

“Know ye, that we, graciously cherishing the common good and benefit of the inhabitants of Kings Norton…do give and grant… that they hold and keep, to the sole and proper benefit and use of the inhabitants of the same town of Kings Norton…a market to be held and kept on Saturdays… Attested by the King at Westminster on the 15th May 1616”

It being February and olden times aside, admittedly I am starting to lose any eagerness with buying parsnips or kale from the vegetable stall, the thought of another heavy root based dinner makes me feel full without even eating. There are only so many roasted parsnips that you can take in one season and although I love kale, being handed half a carrier bag is more of a hindrance rather than an excitement inducer at the moment. But I did get two large handfuls of purple sprouting broccoli which will go well with some midweek pasta, if I am honest so far February does feel like a cul-de-sac with things coming out of the soil.

However the apples from Nick and Penny Wendon of Old Sandlin Fruits in Malvern as per usual were top-notch and the late season eaters at the moment are in fantastic condition, so much that I filled a bag with the last of the Cox’s for this year (two weeks ago it was Egremont) and I also picked up a big bag of Concorde pears that were so delicate tasting they were the best I have tasted this season. I also purchased from the stall two bottles of unfiltered emerald-green apple juice, one a sharp Bramley juice and the other Egremont that were so sharply refreshing I wished I had bought more.

I could write about apples all day long, they have always been around in my life. It’s fair to say there are not many days of the year I am not without an apple in the work bag or I do not eat an apple at home. It’s a running joke in the house, so much that for my last birthday Becky kindly made me an apple-shaped birthday cake.

Seeing the changes through the UK apple season is a real journey and tasting the varieties becomes obsessive as much as a pleasure. To think that we have 2000 to choose from, some varieties being rarer. The good choice comes from clever and dedicated people like the Wendon’s who care about their orchards but also care about differentiating themselves from the supermarket top 10 varieties.

I am still yet to have a Blenheim Orange, my search goes on and thankfully a long the way I get to eat apples which I have never heard of or never new existed. My current and probably all time favourite, the Cox Orange Pippin is a superb all-rounder although this years were not as good as last. What can go better than a russeted Cox with a lump of mature cheddar and some bread ? Quite simply one of the best quick meals going. The alchemistic sounding names like Northern Spy, Keep Sake, Jonathan, Stayman-Winesap, Sun Dance, Grimes Golden and Gravenstien make me wonder why, and how they get branded with names like that ?

This recipe is not an apple-shape pudding (I hear you panic) but more so a dark and dare I say it a stodgy spiced cake found in a back issue of Olive magazine the cake is perfectly moist and deeply aromatic that also keeps well. I used some Bramley apples, however a few good eaters to the same weight would not harm it. I have not tried, but pears could work well too – something like the concorde or conference which also cooks nicely in a cake.

Spiced Apple Market Cake..

125 grams of unsalted butter

225 grams of dark muscovado sugar

2 free range eggs, at room temperature and beaten

225 grams of plain flour

2 teaspoons of baking powder

2 teaspoons of all spice

1 teaspoon of ground cinnamon

300 grams of cooking apples , peeled and diced

2 tablespoons of runny honey

2 tablespoons of demerara sugar

1. Heat the oven to 160C/fan. Cream the butter and muscovado sugar in a food processor for a couple of minutes, it’s vital you have room temperature butter or it will not cream. Then mix in the egg. Sift over the flour, baking powder and spices. Fold together and then stir in the apple.

2. Pour into a buttered, base-lined springform cake tin and bake for 1 hour, until risen and browned. Mix the honey and demerara and spread over the cake while still warm. Remove from the tin. This will keep for 3-4 days wrapped in foil. It will age nicely too, like a ginger cake it’s better settled rather than immediately eaten or soon afterwards.

Kings Norton Farmers’ Market takes place on every second Saturday of the month, congratulations are also due for the market being awarded runner up in finals for community market farmers market of the year for 2013.

Sweet Blood Orange and Beetroot Salad

The first of the blood oranges arrived last week, they came in a paper bag with my vegetable and fruit delivery. I also noticed a box of oranges outside of Lewis’s deli in Moseley over the weekend too. The snow and ice was melting fast and the oranges were the only bit of bold colour on show, like boxed in lighthouse signals rather than fruit.

The reputation of a blood orange is instantly inviting and all six from the bag looked ready to be eaten straight away. I did just that with two oranges as I stood in the kitchen audibly gasping to myself as I peeled the skin. There is a quiet beauty at first hidden in an exterior of a blood orange, the exterior indicates not much different from the usual orange variety by only being a little smaller than the common Seville. Once peeled it is a treat of rioja darkness that is so crimson it reminds me of the stalls of Barcelona La Boqueria market on an unbearably hot August afternoon, but also the terrible weird maroon blazer I had to endure in my high school years. I’ll take a Catalan reminder any day. The deep colour comes from growing these oranges in cold Spanish and Sicilian nights which turn into mellower days, as the fruit grows and the temperature rises there is a build up of anythocyanin which then causes the pigmentation.

Arriving in boxes into the UK they are in glut by the end of January, I can’t help but think they would be more aesthetically suitable in the British summer, however there are strawberries and gooseberries for that and we have to get in quick, the bloods are in season for only a short while. The sweet rounded juice would be great for an extravagant drink or cocktail, but for me squashing the fruit is heretical and totally not the point. Apparently you can make an intense tasting marmalade with them too, the colour however does not stay once boiled which for me defeats the purpose.

This salad is an old classic, the classic combination of earthy beetroot and sweetness of the fruit maintains its long-term staying influence. You will also want dark green peppery leaves such as rocket and young spinach to offset the sweetness rather than any lighter leaves. Add some other salad bits if you have them, a few toasted nuts are always a winner too. It may seem overly rustic but these oranges for me deserve their very own particular respect.

A taste of summer, like a sneak preview of a Spanish city break, but we would have to call them ‘naranja’s’ if we were going to be real pedants.

• Sweet Blood Orange and Beetroot Salad
  

Serves 1. Easily doubled.

• For the salad.

1 blood orange

2 small beetroots, mine were golf ball sized. I had chioggia beets, but any will do.

A handful of peppery salad leaves

A small handful of walnuts (toasted)

Olive Oil

Balsamic Vinegar

• For the dressing.

1 tablespoon of white wine vinegar

2 tablespoons of rape seed oil

1 teaspoon of Dijon mustard

2 tablespoons of hazelnut oil

2 teaspoons of runny honey

Seasoning

1. Set the oven to 200 c, wash and trim the beetroot, add to a roasting dish and liberally cover the beetroot with plenty of olive oil and a few tablespoons of balsamic vinegar. Season with salt and pepper, I like plenty of seasoning with beetroot, a bit of cumin wouldn’t hurt here either.

2. Place the beetroot in a roasting tin, cover with foil and bake for 45 minutes to 60 minutes. Check for tenderness, use a knife.

3. Make the dressing, add all of the ingredients into a small jar and shake vigorously. Check for seasoning, you want a zingy dressing so an extra teaspoon or so of white wine vinegar may be needed.

4. Slice the end and top of the orange off and then slice the peel off the orange sides using a good small sharp knife. Remove all the skin and any pith.

5. Toss the leaves in with half of the dressing, beetroot and walnuts, place your orange segments or slices on top of the salad.

6. Drizzle over the remaining dressing, don’t worry about how reds your hands are from the beetroot as this is an occupational hazard.

7. Serve.

Forced Rhubarb and Ginger Compote

My family lived in the Scottish Borders for a number of years in a small village called St Boswells, our last home in the borders before we moved back to Birmingham was a small 3 bedroom semi-detached house where I lived with my mom, dad and two brothers. It was a village complete with a green where everyone would know everyone’s business, for better or for worse.

Half way down the road were an elderly couple called Ella and Ad who were friends of the family, Ad had been the hounds man for the local hunt and my dad had met him when he had started working in St Boswells when we moved up from Birmingham. They both were a lot older than my parents and incredibly welcoming, a genuine Ethel and Ernest type couple – flat caps, walking sticks and cardigans.

My dad would usually sound the car horn at Ad as he was walking to the local shops, he would lift his walking stick to us without looking. Ella, his wife; had a broad Scottish drawl that was almost ear deafeningly loud and a fantastic sense of humour. Ella would babysit for us often and we would watch Saturday night movies on the television together. Films like Police Academy or Smokey and The Bandit would constantly have her in hysterics. Sugared Almonds would also appear from her pocket and she would share her sweets with us, there would be cakes bought to the house for our family and sharing of recipes with my mom. I can remember Ella’s chunky millionaires shortbread particularly, as well as all manner of tray bakes that were intended for senior citizen coffee mornings in the village.

My mom would ask me to go down to their house often to get some rhubarb to go with our Sunday lunch. I would knock and wait at the door, Ella or Ad would open with smiles and I would sweetly (I hope) ask for some rhubarb. Ad would then take me round to their back garden and I would watch as he hacked at their rhubarb patch next to the compost heap with his kitchen knife, straightening his back up afterwards he would present me with the stalks of the allotment and garden favourite ‘Victoria’ variety. The red stalks would be then taken to my parents for a crumble in a shopping carrier bag, not before I went into their kitchen where Ella would more often than not give me a Dairy Milk chocolate bar to walk up the road with.

I had never been a big admirer of the taste of rhubarb; I remember plunging sticks in bags of sugar at friend’s house where the tart taste would make my face scrunch up in disgust. This Summer I gave rhubarb another chance after my parents handed me some of their own from their garden. From one of these picks I made some sweet compote which included orange rind and the other time I added a few stalks to a late Autumn crumble with apples and blackberries. Pleasingly now, my pallet is a lot more impressed but as a rule I usually need an ingredient to spice rhubarb when I cook with it.

Yesterday I visited my local greengrocer to pick up a few usual groceries, I needed to get some parsley (my greengrocer does a good-sized bunch for 70p which can be put into a glass of water to be kept reasonably fresh) , a few field mushrooms for Becky, as well as a bag of onions.

I did not expect to see rhubarb happily sticking out of a wooden crate as I walked in, of course, it was the first forced variety of this season and I picked up 5 shockingly pink sticks of fresh and colourful ‘raspberry red’ to take home with me, again to make a compote, but this time with some ginger and vanilla. The chilled compote tasted almost fizzy this morning with my yoghurt for breakfast, like a sherbet lemon but refreshingly so. I’d also serve the compote with custard too, hot and straight out of the saucepan. Rhubarb is not a fruit, even though it has a good partnership with sugar, but a national and native vegetable treasure to get us through the first two cold months of the year. It’s the 8th day of snow in Birmingham, I gratefully wont ask for much more than that.

• Rhubarb and Ginger Compote

Fills a pudding bowl. Makes about 5 servings.

5 sticks of forced rhubarb, check for freshness you want the rhubarb sticks to feel like they could crunch if they were squeezed.

1 vanilla pod or a teaspoon of vanilla essence to taste

A thumb sized piece of ginger

100 g of sugar

1 cup of water

1. Wash the rhubarb, discard the leave and then chop each rhubarb piece into matchbox sized pieces.

2. Grate the ginger, you could use preserved ginger if you wanted. I am a big fan of ginger so I used some fresh ginger and a bit of syrup from some preserved ginger for a bit of oomph and sweetness.

3. Open your vanilla pod, scraping out as much seeds as possible with the blunt side of a knife. Do not chuck away your used pod, put it in with some sugar to make vanilla sugar.

4. Place the vanilla, ginger, rhubarb and water into a dark sauce pan on a medium heat, do not use an aluminium one as the rhubarb will react causing an unpleasant taste, at worse mild poisoning.

5. Wait for the rhubarb to come to boil, soon as it does add the sugar. Then stew the rhubarb for 8-10 minutes.

7. Taste, add more sugar if you wish.

8. Serve immediately or refrigerate in a container, it will last for about a week.