The Shrieking Violet rice pudding

I recently started a PhD, and during two weeks training in how to be a research student we had a session on time management (we were mainly told fairly obvious things like 'checking your Facebook page will not help you with your research'). One of the things we had to do during this session was to think of five things we could not live without. I decided that without food, sleep, fresh air and exercise (getting out for a walk every day, even if it's only just to the shops), and having time to spend by myself and having time to spend with other people with whom I have things in common, I would quickly get very miserable and find it hard to function. We were then asked to narrow our choices down to the two most important (food and sleep for me) and finally pick the one thing we really couldn't live without. Whilst I was trying to choose between food and sleep, it turned out everyone else was thinking about things like their family and their pets.

However, I don't think it's possible to overstate the importance of food in my life, not just as sustenance but also as a way of experiencing experimentation, adventure, comfort and familiarity. I feel like thinking about what I am going to eat, where I am going to get the ingredients from, and how I am going to cook them, gives my days and weeks structure, as well as something to look forward to, and I hope that however busy I became I would still have time to cook for myself. As well as trying out new recipes, I also love making old favourites. Strangely enough, I had never made rice pudding until recently, but it is a great dish as it pretty much looks after itself – once you have put the ingredients in the oven you can just leave them for a couple of hours until it's ready. I'm not a big eater of desserts, so I tend to make it into a main meal, or eat it cold for breakfast. I've also started making sure I have a pomegranate around (they are fairly cheap on the fruit and vegetable stall on High Street in the Northern Quarter and, once deseeded, last in the fridge for several days) as their seeds can be added to any number of dishes, sweet and savoury (see also the Shrieking Violet porridge recipe below, and an aubergine, walnut, pomegranate seed and brown rice salad I invented recently).

On one of the occasions I made rice pudding for a communal dinner lately, my friend Lauren Velvick commented that she would love to make rice pudding but didn't know where to buy pudding rice. It was her birthday last weekend, so I made her a 'rice pudding kit' based on the ingredients and recipe below.

The Shrieking Violet rice pudding

Ingredients 

100g pudding rice
50g sugar
700ml soya milk (or other type of milk. I really want to try using coconut milk from a can but have not got round to trying it yet)
Freshly grated nutmeg
1 bayleaf
5-6 cardamon pods
½ of one pomegranate (seeds)

Serves 2 

Method

Pre-heat oven to 150 degrees celsius. Grease a large oven dish. Wash and drain rice and add to dish. Add sugar and milk and stir. Grate in a generous amount of nutmeg and add the bay leaf and cardamon pods. Cook for two hours until the rice has reached the desired consistency (I like mine quite runny). Remove from the oven, remove the bayleaf and cardamon pods (if wished), stir in the pomegranate seeds and serve.

The Shrieking Violet porridge 

I never used to be a great porridge eater (it’s the stodgiest food I know of, but strangely, and contrary to popular myth that it will keep you full until lunchtime, I’m always ravenous again an hour or two after eating it), but I have found myself eating it a lot in the winter mornings as it’s relatively warm, quick and convenient. As a savoury aficionado, I’m also not a big fruit eater (perhaps because I’ve never been much of a snacks or desserts person) and fruity porridge is also my way of feeling like I’m doing my bit to keep my diet varied and vitamin-filled.

My main complaint about porridge is that it’s often runny or bland (unlike rice pudding, which I prefer runny), but I get around that by cooking it until all the liquid is absorbed and making as much of a meal out of it as possible. Using up some leftover desiccated coconut and chopped nuts one day was inspired, if I say so myself, as it lends the porridge some crunchiness; further ammunition against the blandness!

Ingredients

50-70g porridge oats
½ cup soya milk or water
½ pomegranate (seeds only)
1 apple (or peach/nectarine or plum), chopped
1.5cm ginger, chopped or grated in while the porridge is cooking
½ teaspoon cinnamon and/or ground ginger
½ teaspoon golden syrup or honey
Desiccated coconut or chopped hazelnuts

Serves 1

Method

Heat milk/water in a large pan. Add chopped fruit and simmer for 5-10 minutes depending on how much time you’ve got and how soft you like your fruit. Once fruit has softened, stir in oats, adding more liquid if required. Stir in ginger and cinnamon and sprinkle liberally with coconut/nuts. Keep stirring until porridge has reached desired consistency (up to a couple of minutes). Remove from the heat, stir in pomegranate seeds and serve in a bowl with a teaspoon of golden syrup or honey.

Three litres of sloe gin, or a tale of two blackthorn bushes

This sloe gin started life in late-summer 2011 as ripe sloes gathered from two blackthorn bushes: one on the banks of the Ashton Canal, Ancoats and one by the River Sett between New Mills and Hayfield in the Peak District.

The Ashton Canal winds its way from central Manchester to the market town of Ashton-under-Lyne, six miles to the east. It's a remarkable journey that takes walkers, cyclists, boats and geese past the boom and bust regeneration of inner-city Manchester (half rebuilt and reinvented as New Islington, half still rubble and spaces left by ruined mills and factories); alongside Manchester City Football Club's glittering stadium and the slightly less glamorous Eastlands retail park (highlight – ASDA); near the shabby Victorian elegance of Philips Park, Manchester's first public park, leading to reclaimed nature reserve Clayton Vale and the Medlock Valley; and next to Fairfield Moravian Settlement, an island of tranquil cobblestones and Georgian cottages surrounded by suburban Tameside with its canal-side sports pitches and pensioners playing waterside pétanque.

We are lucky to have this urban oasis running through the city: the canal would have been closed in the 1960s if the local council had its way. When road transport became widespread, canals went out of fashion. They grew obsolete and expensive to maintain – and it took volunteers across the country long and laborious hours to restore Britain's canal network. These campaigners reimagined a new use for the inland waterways as sites of leisure and tourism – for boating holidays and afternoon walks – rather than toil – horses and boats still hauled coal and other goods along canals, including the Ashton, well into the twentieth century, the purpose for which they had been built centuries before. At Ashton-under-Lyne, the Ashton Canal hits the Portland Basin (home to the Wooden Canal Boat Society and Portland Basin Museum), where canal adventurers head south east onto the Peak Forest Canal to continue their journey through the Cheshire towns of Hyde and Marple and then on to New Mills (a place defined by its spectacular geography; the town rises up into the hills as the rivers Sett and Goyt descend into sunken Torrs below) and Whaley Bridge in Derbyshire, where the canal comes to an end.

The second blackthorn bush was encountered along the Sett Valley Trail between New Mills and Hayfield on a rainy yet peaceful bank holiday weekend walk. Hayfield is a picturesque rural village overlooked by the Peak District National Park's highest point, Kinder Scout – a landmark visible back in the city, from Ancoats, where this story starts. In April 1932, Kinder was the scene of one of Britain's most famous protests. Several hundred ramblers from Manchester and the surrounding region, including folk singer Ewan MacColl, led a mass trespass up Kinder Scout to protest that what had previously been common land had been taken over by private interests. It's them we must thank for our rights to roam over Britain's countryside today, something we can take for granted: the ability to explore and reach out from the crowded cities around us, to wander at our leisure.

2012 will be the 80th anniversary of the Kinder Trespass. Find out more at http://kindertrespass.com or visit Salford's Working Class Movement Library, which holds material related to the protest.

The Golden Age of Canals, an excellent BBC4 programme about the formation of the Inland Waterways, mass activism to save canals and their changing uses, will be repeated on Monday at 7pm.

Sloe Gin

This week, coinciding with the start of the freezing weather, I had the first taste of my sloe gin, which has been steeping for ten and a half weeks. Although it's a bit early, I wanted to bottle a small quantity to give to a friend for her birthday this week. It's a deep red colour, almost opaque, that glows warmly when you hold it up to the light. The consistency is smooth and glossy, thicker than gin, and there are two distinct tastes — intensely bitter (perhaps because of the gin, or maybe because I picked the sloes early in autumn before they'd had chance to sweeten) and very sweet — but with an overall fruitiness. It's so rich it invites being savoured in tiny quantities. I looked all over for the perfect bottles, considering some ornamental Vom Fass bottles from the Selfridges food hall, but it wasn't possible to buy bottles without the oil and I didn't want the problem of what to do with the oil. In the end, I bought a 250ml bottle of Devon apple juice from the chiller cabinet as it had a screw top, drank the juice, sterilised the bottle and came up with a colour co-ordinated, vaguely icicle themed label. The rest of my sloe gin has gone back in the cupboard to steep some more before I get it out again properly in December.

Pumpkin vs. squash

Although technically a type of squash, I find the light, subtle, juicy orange flesh of the round, orange skinned pumpkin infinitely nicer, both in texture and in taste, than the bland, soapy, sweet, almost perfumey stodginess of something like a butternut squash. Unfortunately, pumpkins only tend to appear in this country in October and then disappear again after Halloween once their novelty factor has worn off, which is a shame for such a versatile vegetable which yields so much delicious food, both from its flesh and seeds. Luckily, pumpkin flesh is ideal for freezing, so it’s easy to eat fresh pumpkin around Halloween then freeze the rest (either in thick slabs or bite size chunks) to be used throughout the winter, in meals as diverse as soup, curries, risotto and lasagna — or simply just enjoyed roasted.

To prepare a pumpkin, I slice the top off with a long, serrated knife and remove the seeds with my hands, setting aside in a bowl (these seeds can be either cooked immediately or frozen). To maximise the amount of flesh I get out of the pumpkin — if you want to carve a face into your pumpkin, then you’re going to need to slice the top off then scoop the flesh out from the inside — I remove the skin with a sharp knife as if peeling a potato (due to the round nature of the vegetable, it can be easier if you chop it into smaller chunks). I then chop the flesh into cubes, and either cook immediately or place in sandwich bags or plastic containers and freeze. After it’s been frozen, pumpkin can either be left out to defrost if planning ahead, or thawed for ninety seconds in a microwave when needed.

Pumpkin and apple soup with cumin

This is the nicest food I know how to make. Pumpkin, apple and cumin really is a dream combination — all three flavours are improved immeasurably in the company of each other. Hearty, warming Pumpkin, apple and cumin is my all-time favourite type of soup — probably because, due to the limited availability of pumpkin the rest of the year round, I only eat it in Autumn when the idea of winter is still novel and before it gets too bitterly cold. Dark, early nights are softened by the cosiness inside, and crunchy leaves and the excitement of Halloween, bonfires and fireworks outside.

Serves 3

550g pumpkin, chopped
4 apples, peeled and chopped (no particular variety — I use the type that come, ten for a pound, in sandwich bags from the Arndale Market)
One large onion, chopped
3 cloves of garlic, chopped
700ml vegetable stock
350ml apple juice
1-1.5 teaspoons cumin
Six sage leaves, chopped
Salt and pepper to season

Sauté the onion in olive oil in a large pan for five minutes. Add the garlic, pumpkin and apple and sauté for a further five minutes. Add the apple juice and stock and simmer for 25 minutes. Add the sage leaves, season well with salt and pepper, stir in the cumin and remove from the heat. Puree with a hand blender, adding more water if necessary.

Roasted pumpkin seeds

These make a satisfying snack during the day or a crunchy alternative to popcorn to take to the cinema.

Simmer the pumpkin seeds, fresh or frozen, in lightly salted water for 10-15 minutes. Preheat the oven to a medium to high heat. Drain the seeds well, place in a shallow baking dish or tray and coat with olive oil. Season well with salt and freshly ground black pepper and cook for 20-25 minutes (checking frequently as there is a very fine line between just cooked and burned!), stirring every few minutes. The pumpkin seeds are done when they are crispy and starting to go brown around the edges.

Roasted pumpkin with gnocchi and rosemary

This quick and simple but effective meal is my favourite lazy convenience food, and one of my favourite dinners. Preheat the oven to a medium to high heat. Take the required amount of pumpkin cubes (described above) out of the freezer and defrost. Drain any water, coat with olive oil on all sides and place in a small, shallow casserole dish with a fat clove of garlic, chopped. Roast in the oven for ten minutes. Chop a few sprigs of fresh rosemary, to taste. After the pumpkin has been cooking for ten minutes, add the rosemary and roast for a further ten minutes, stirring occasionally, until the pumpkin starts to go golden and crispy around the edges. Meanwhile, bring a pan of lightly salted water to boil on the hob. Add gnocchi and simmer until the gnocchi rises to the surface of the water. Drain. Remove the pumpkin from the oven, stir the gnocchi into the pumpkin and its juices, season well with salt and freshly ground black pepper (and cumin if desired), grate cheese on top and serve in the dish it cooked in.

The above recipe also works well with aubergine, with the addition of honey and lots of cumin.

In praise of soup/an experimental mushroom soup recipe

I used to turn my nose up at the idea of soup for dinner. I saw it as a starter, a warm-up for real food. If I had it for my evening meal, I'd be hungry again in a couple of hours, I thought.

That was until New Year's Day, when I had my first ever hangover and the only way I could possibly face food was in pureed form. Gentle food to go easy on my head and stomach. When I arrived home on New Year's Day, I just about managed to make some squash, turnip and lentil soup and immediately felt slightly calmer.

Even when the hangover had gone, though, I still felt terrible for weeks afterwards. I realised this New Year terrified me like no new year had ever scared me before. Whereas I'd always thought of myself as being confident and bold, suddenly, instead of being excited by the future like normal, the idea made me feel really panicked. Every day I had foreboding in my stomach, a constant rumbling of dread. Before, it was rare my daily routine didn't feature some combination of chili, paprika, cumin or ginger, but now the thought of spicy food made my body and brain recoil in fear.

I couldn't face doing anything useful, so threw all my energy and spare time into obsessively making soup, throwing as many combinations together as I had around the kitchen, from carrot and pumpkin (a bit disappointing - the carrots completely overpowered the pumpkin) to broccoli, leek, potato and Stilton (you'd think this is too many good things in one meal, but it works!).

If I made a big pot on a Sunday evening, I could freeze or refridgerate it, thereby keeping myself in lunch and/or dinner for the rest of the week. Gradually, I realised I couldn't imagine eating anything but soup; I feel like I've barely eaten anything solid all year, only progressing a slight step up to mashed potato when I felt a bit braver. With the outside dark and prohibitively cold, what could be a better comfort food than a meal that can be eaten with a spoon and fingers (if taken with bread)?

I started to see soup-making as a creative act: it's got all the ingredients that go into a normal meal, but blended together to make something new. Things that are good by themselves are even better in close proximity with something else - there's nothing like apple in the company of pumpkin. I found myself daydreaming about new combinations whilst at work, which I rushed to fulfill when I got home.

Around the end of the month I started feeling better again. I introduced cumin to some pumpkin and apple soup (a few weeks previously, this would have been a matter of course; now it felt daring) and it was good. I was glad of the kick. I'm happy I rediscovered soup as it's nice to have a homecooked meal for lunch at work - and there's no chance I'm giving myself a hangover ever again.

Experimental mushroom soup

Serves three reasonably generously (I ALWAYS find that soup recipes feed far fewer people than they claim to. I am not going to lie to you - if you tried to feed four people with this amount of soup, they would probably all still be hungry).

Takes less than half an hour.

Just over 400g mushrooms (I couldn't decide which to buy. I spent a while looking at the closed cup type before deciding that they were a bit pale and polite looking and I wanted my soup to be a dark, speckly, satisfying colour. The large, flat variety looked more exciting - I love the pleated texture on their undersides and the contrast in colours between rock-coloured off-white and earthy, foresty brown . 400g was six of these.).
4-5 cloves of garlic, depending how much garlic you like (I generally feel like a meal isn't a real meal if it hasn't got any garlic in it)
Four tablespoons butter (or vegetarian/vegan equivalent.)
Four tablespoons flour
600ml milk (or vegetarian/vegan equivalent)
500ml vegetable stock
Up to about 200ml water
One and a half teaspoons lemon juice
Nutmeg
Salt and pepper to season

Melt the butter in a large pan. Add the garlic, chopped, and mushrooms, chopped into cubes, and stir so they are all covered by butter (as much as is reasonably possible depending on the space in your pan). Fry on a low heat until they start to look cooked - ie, glossy and a darker colour than they were before you started.

Stir in the milk gradually and stir a few times.

Add the flour gradually and stir. Turn up the heat and the soup will thicken.

Add the stock gradually, stirring all the while. Add water if your soup is looking thicker than you want it to.

Add the lemon juice and stir in.

Using a hand blender, blend the soup until it is as smooth as you want it to be.

Add more water if desired.

Finely grate some nutmeg on top - not much, just a sprinkling, then stir in.

Season with salt and lots of black pepper.

Eat with lots of toasted, crusty bread and butter. I ate mine with a garlic and coriander naan as that was what I had in my cupboard. It was good, but French stick may have been even better.

Freeze or refrigerate the rest. If you want to make soup into a more substantial meal, add rice, couscous, pasta or, best of all, gnocchi when you're reheating it.

Snow

The big wheel kept on turning.