Chick peas with sorrel
Chick peas with sorrel
“A...desirable pungency is evoked by this bowl of chick peas and sorrel” (Nigella, p167).
Before I start my usual waffling, I would quickly like to say that – judging by the hit counter – people in cyber-space do appear to be reading my blog again and I would like to say thank you for the support. Such an extended break during what is both an immense and unfinished project is not usual - I do see - and I must admit that when I returned I did wonder whether everyone who used to read the blog regularly would have forgotten about it. Whilst this blog was created – primarily and quite selfishly - for me (to reflect on and (hopefully) improve my own culinary skills), no one likes to feel as though they are continually and aimlessly talking to themselves in a big empty room – surely a sign of madness at any rate! So, what I suppose I am trying to say – in however long-winded a fashion – is thank you for visiting and taking a renewed interest in my project. I do appreciate it! Those of you who can’t walk into a supermarket without being bombarded by messages of “back to school” (I wish these advertising gurus would think of us poor teachers. I take these jaunty banners counting down my precious free time as a personal affront!) will surely know that the summer holidays are coming to an end, which inevitably means that I have only one more week of freedom before I spectacularly morph into bright-eyed and enthusiastic class teacher extraordinaire! Actually, I say that I have one final week of freedom, but pure reprehensible laziness dictated that I leave all planning and preparation for my new class until the last minute and so I am sure that the forthcoming week will see me flapping about with paperwork, folders and files!
However, all thoughts of work-related drudgery are banished from my mind on Saturdays – the one day of the week when abandon my sensible diet and – spectacularly and guiltlessly – enjoy a feast – a dinner for two – with Christopher. Nothing could be nicer right now than a recipe emanating from the chick pea section. I loved that chick pea and pasta soup so much last week, that just the taste-memory of it has been enough to reawaken my nostalgic love for chickpeas. It appears that I’m not the only one, as only yesterday Christopher mentioned that we should soak-tenderise-cook chickpeas regularly and use them habitually in whatever we happen to be cooking at the time. Apart from tasting absolutely wonderful – buttery, nutty and utterly yielding – and being very filling, they provide the additional service of bulking out any lacklustre meal. Yet chickpeas are not the sole personality in this meal, as they share the limelight with sorrel. Perhaps some people reading this don’t have a great deal of knowledge about sorrel and so (I hope informatively and helpfully) I copy and paste a paragraph or two from Wikipedia; “Sorrel is a slender plant about 60 cm high, with roots that run deep into the ground, as well as juicy stems and edible, oblong leaves. It has whorled spikes of reddish-green flowers, which bloom in June and July, becoming purplish. Common sorrel has been cultivated for centuries. The leaves may be puréed in soups and sauces or added to salads. They have a flavor that is similar to kiwifruit or sour wild strawberries. The plant’s sharp taste is due to oxalic acid.” We are lucky in this country, in that sorrel grows wild in our hedges and can just be plucked, washed and eaten (raw if you want!). I appreciate that some – if not most - people won’t have had much experience with this leaf, but - for me - sorrel represents the taste of my childhood. We had quite a big and overrun garden when I was growing up, and at a very young age my mum taught me to recognise, pick and eat sorrel. I used to pick it from the hedges and eat it – leaf by leaf – not even bothering to wash it (although I wouldn’t advise that of course). I suppose I appreciated it first because it was a novelty - the only edible foodstuff growing wild in the garden – but in truth, I actually liked the taste a lot. I prized its sourness and sharpness and like all foods with real bite, that sharp taste is very addictive. It has, however, been a long time since I picked wild sorrel from the hedges, and whilst I could never fail to recognise the taste of a leaf of sorrel, I doubted my ability to recognise it in appearance. So, when mum and dad came to visit us last weekend (the weekend of the return of the always well-received beef and beans with pasta) and asked if we would take them on a walk of the area, I asked mum to point out any sorrel in the hedge. Luckily for us, there is a lovely, well maintained little copse and community pond about 100m up the road from us, and whilst walking around there, mum found a wild sorrel plant. She gave me a leaf to taste and – as predicted – I instantly recognised (and loved) its sharp acidity. Once I knew where the plant was, I also knew that I could take a walk there myself and pick the requisite leaves at a later date. That was such a lovely day and I really enjoyed my time with mum and dad (see photos).
It is probably obvious – therefore – that I was eagerly anticipating this (for me, nostalgic) recipe. For a start, it seems that this Middle-Eastern way of preparing chick peas – “sour with lemon juice and thick with spinach” (p167) (here, the bitter sorrel doing the dual job of both the leafy spinach and sour lemon) – is one that Nigella really likes (which probably means that I, too, will like it!). I was flicking through her most recent book – Nigella Express – and see that she has a recipe for chick peas with rocket and sherry; once again preserving that leafy-sour taste combination. The recipe itself also looks wonderful and there is not one ingredient that I couldn’t claim to adore. For a start, it is nice to have a recipe suggestion for tinned chickpeas. Okay, it isn’t exactly difficult to soak and cook dried chickpeas, I know that, but sometimes these things can be just one step too far and there are times when it is infinitely more desirable to reach for the tin opener! Not only does this recipe contain the sour sorrel and chickpeas, but also some wonderful heady, Middle-Eastern spices – most notably dried cumin (whose smoky pungency I adore) and half of a dried red chilli pepper (yum!).
As per Nigella’s serving suggestions on page 168 of How to Eat, I am serving this drizzled with some of that wonderful peppery EVOO that I brought last week and also some griddled pitta. I also liked Nigella’s suggestion of a cold plate of tomato salad and so used this occasion to make what is only referred to in my notes as “Dad’s tomato salad” – the tomato salad of my childhood. The challenge was – however – to turn what is essentially a suggestion for a solitary supper into an appropriate dinner – tete a tete. I wanted to preserve the Middle-Eastern influence which guided the creation of this chickpea dish, and the idea of lamb kebabs just jumped out at me. I found what seems a fantastic recipe in Jamie Oliver’s book, “Jamie’s Kitchen,” (my personal favourite Jamie book as I’m sure I’ve mentioned before) for “the best marinated kebabs” and in particular the recipe for “lamb kebabs.” With that, it would surely be a crime not to serve a bowl of garlic and mint mayonnaise! So, our special Middle-Eastern meal is as follows: The “best” marinated lamb kebabs, garlic and mint mayonnaise, toasted pitta, chick peas with sorrel and dad’s tomato salad. Read it and weep! We are drinking alongside an Italian red by the way. Not quite in that same Middle-Eastern register, but what would have been appropriate? I don’t know.
In terms of quantities, I am keeping them as stipulated in HTE. The quantity is for one solitary person eating supper in its entirety, and so I thought that as part of a larger meal (the vegetable accompaniment as it were), the amount would be fine for the both of us.
Ingredients: I have wittered on about the fact that sorrel grows wild in hedges around the UK, but that doesn’t help you much if you live in the middle of a city or overseas. In that case, I suggest that you tap up your local greengrocer, who – even if they don’t stock it – should at least make enquiries for you. Farmers markets or farm shops are another likely source. You could also check out any local garden centres and have a look where they grow/sell their herbs. To be honest, the above visits would be a culinary reward in themselves I would have thought! I wouldn’t like to suggest an alternative ingredient if all of the above leads come up short. I can’t think of another single ingredient that provides both leafiness and sharpness, although you could settle for spinach and lemon juice I suppose. I love sorrel too much to suggest any other substitutions; truly it is the right, real thing. If using tinned chickpeas, – as I did – they should be organic (better textured according to Nigella), which I found easily in my local Tescos. The other ingredients – olive oil, onion, garlic, dried cumin and dried red chilli – can be found anywhere. Just one other point of interest; there is a farmers market in the car park of our local garden centre every Friday morning, and I went along to buy some of the ingredients for the other parts of the meal. Specifically, I brought the red onion and red pepper to be skewered along with the lamb on the kebabs and some home-grown, gorgeously fresh, juicy and bright red tomatoes (both normal and cherry) and spring onions for the tomato salad. Well, we used to eat the salad with tomatoes that dad grew himself, so I wanted to echo that somewhat here.
(Picking sorrel)
(A lovely day - Dad and I on our "sorrel hunt!")
(Drying some of the washed sorrel)
Price: The onion, dried cumin and chick peas totalled £1.98 – a very cheap haul. There were some ingredients that I didn’t need; namely the olive oil, garlic, dried red chilli and EVOO for drizzling. Obviously, the sorrel was free because I picked it myself.
Method: The chickpeas with sorrel are very easy to make and can be cooked completely at the last moment. Indeed, the chickpeas were one of the last things to be cooked. I did do a bit of pleasurable afternoon kitchen pottering though. For example, the skewers needed to be soaked (I didn’t actually know that, but Christopher in his ultimate wisdom, pointed out that if you don’t soak the skewers prior to grilling/barbequing them, then they can burn – ouch!) and the lamb cubes needed to be marinated (and check out the delicious aromatic marinade ingredients – smoked paprika, cloves, cumin seeds, ground cumin, coriander seeds and OO). I also made the dressing for the tomato salad. I will be honest and admit that I did try – in my madness and over enthusiasm – to make my own garlic mayonnaise (later to be laced with finely chopped mint). For one reason or another, it was a complete flop (I tell a lie...it flopped twice). I managed to curdle two batches of would-be mayonnaise, before I came to the conclusion that I would be better off (financially and emotionally) adding pounded garlic and finely chopped mint to some good shop-brought stuff.
So, after the unctuous dressing had been poured over the juicy, fresh tomatoes, the pitta had been grilled and the mayonnaise (ahem) and the lamb kebabs assembled, I set about making the chickpeas, whilst Chris took over the responsibility of grilling the lamb kebabs. There is hardly any prep work for the chickpeas – simply finely chop an onion and 2 cloves of garlic (and I didn’t even use the processor, just a big knife) and shred the sorrel (again, I used a knife). First, sweat/cook the finely chopped onion and garlic – along with dried cumin, salt and crumbled ½ dried red chilli - in OO for about 5 minutes. And it smelled absolutely wonderful – I love the smoky, dark, aromatic smell of cumin. After the requisite 5 minutes cooking time (which allows the onion-garlic to soften and sweat their almost caramelised juices into the cumin), I added the drained chickpeas and shredded sorrel. The sorrel wilts almost on impact (they are very delicate leaves), but the chickpeas take about 3 or 4 minutes to properly warm through. Oh, and I don’t know about you, but I thought that boiling hot chickpeas would be all wrong as part of this aromatic and heady Middle-Eastern meal; I wanted them warm. So, when they had reached said desired temperature, I spooned them out into an appropriate bowl, drizzled over EVOO and provided a spoon for us to help ourselves (I have really taken a dislike – lately – to portions metered out directly on the plate. To me, it smacks of those plastic grim school-dinner plates!).
So, after the unctuous dressing had been poured over the juicy, fresh tomatoes, the pitta had been grilled and the mayonnaise (ahem) and the lamb kebabs assembled, I set about making the chickpeas, whilst Chris took over the responsibility of grilling the lamb kebabs. There is hardly any prep work for the chickpeas – simply finely chop an onion and 2 cloves of garlic (and I didn’t even use the processor, just a big knife) and shred the sorrel (again, I used a knife). First, sweat/cook the finely chopped onion and garlic – along with dried cumin, salt and crumbled ½ dried red chilli - in OO for about 5 minutes. And it smelled absolutely wonderful – I love the smoky, dark, aromatic smell of cumin. After the requisite 5 minutes cooking time (which allows the onion-garlic to soften and sweat their almost caramelised juices into the cumin), I added the drained chickpeas and shredded sorrel. The sorrel wilts almost on impact (they are very delicate leaves), but the chickpeas take about 3 or 4 minutes to properly warm through. Oh, and I don’t know about you, but I thought that boiling hot chickpeas would be all wrong as part of this aromatic and heady Middle-Eastern meal; I wanted them warm. So, when they had reached said desired temperature, I spooned them out into an appropriate bowl, drizzled over EVOO and provided a spoon for us to help ourselves (I have really taken a dislike – lately – to portions metered out directly on the plate. To me, it smacks of those plastic grim school-dinner plates!).
(Some of the ingredients ready to go: the finely chopped onion, garlic, dried chilli, cumin, olive oil, organic tinned chickpeas and chopped/shredded sorrel)
(Frying the onion/garlic on olive oil - with a pinch of dried cumin and half of a dried red chilli)
(With the added shredded sorrel)
Result: I said in my last post (the chick pea and pasta soup) that there was something so glorious about the appearance of chick peas and I see now what it was that I meant. The chick peas piled into a bowl just looked glorious. I think it is their earthy goldenness that makes me think of them as I do – so positive, so optimistic, instant “good mood food!” In Feast, Nigella makes a big deal about the symbolism of food and I was never quite sure what she meant, but I seem to have reached the same conclusion the long-winded way. You see, to me the chickpeas remind me of little golden nuggets – of golden coins – which I suppose is synonymous with hope for the future and positivity. Yes, looking at a bowl of these on the table, I can’t help but feel proud of them. Symbolically, they offer hope and golden promise.
I can also assure you that I was very pleased with the taste of them. I love chickpeas – would always be predisposed to anything with chickpeas in – and these chickpeas were no exception. Again, they were utterly soft and easy to bite into. They were meaty, starchy and filling with a well-rounded mouth-filling nuttiness. Okay, I will admit that they weren’t as good as the chickpeas which I used in the chickpea and pasta soup. They weren’t quite as buttery or nearly as creamy, which makes them – I suppose – feel less of a treat. This is probably because they weren’t dried, soaked and cooked and that’s not even taking into account that wonderful tenderising paste that Nigella introduced me to. I am sure it is also because the chickpeas in the soup were actually cooked in a heavenly and fragrant broth and so swelled with all that absorbed golden goodness. I suppose this raises the question of whether – then – it would have been better to soak and cooked dried chickpeas specifically for this meal. Simple and quick though this meal is, when (and it is when) I cook it again, I will use dried chickpeas. Good though these chickpeas were; the others were transcendental and it is hardly a bother soaking dried chickpeas, especially when the reward is so great. The chickpeas were partnered exquisitely by the sorrel. The sorrel played its role to perfection in this dish. As Nigella said, it provided both leafiness (albeit wilted) and sourness. Now, I love chickpeas (as you know) and many dishes (like the soup) play on their natural creaminess and butteriness by partnering them with another ingredient that echoes that flavour and texture. For example, the soft and starchy filling pasta was actually very similar – in build and taste – to the chickpeas. I love this. The sorrel, however, did a completely different job. The sorrel is sharp and acidic-sour and completely lifts the chickpeas into a totally different flavour-level. I loved this very different taste sensation. It was so refreshing to eat – on the same fork – a buttery starchy chickpea with a wilted tangle of wincingly sour sorrel. Two flavours that are completely different, yet work so well together. I should own up to the fact, however, that I would have liked more sorrel in this dish. The chickpeas were wonderful and were partnered very well by the sharpness of the sorrel, but 50g of sorrel doesn’t stretch far and as I say I loved that taste combination. I wanted it on *every* forkful. Ideally, I would have doubled the quantity of sorrel to 100g. I am quite annoyed that it is now coming near to the end of the sorrel season and I suppose I’ll have to wait now until early June-July next year before I make my changes. The chickpeas and sorrel weren’t the only ingredients at play here, though. I loved the onions and garlic. I am glad I didn’t blitz them to mush in the food processor because I liked the texture of the finely chopped onion and I also really liked the fact that they had been sweated in oil a little first. They were very sweet and also aromatic and heady with that infused cumin. And those background flavours were just gorgeous. As I say, I love that aromatic pungency of deep, smoky cumin and it worked wonders here. It provided a delicious blanket of background flavour on which the sorrel and chickpeas worked their magic. I have mentioned this, but there were cumin seeds and dried cumin in the marinade for the lamb and not only does it go to show I picked a sensible accompaniment to the chickpeas with sorrel, but the cumin in both united the component parts harmoniously and ensured that the meal worked as a congruent whole. I must admit that I didn’t really get much of the fiery heat from the dried red chilli (I used a Kashmiri dried red chilli from Waitrose and I did buy them quite recently, so they shouldn’t have lost all of their heat yet. Hmmmmm....). I didn’t mind really though, because what with the aromatic pungency provided by the cumin, the sweet onion, the nutty chickpeas and the sharp sorrel, I don’t know if you need to add fiery heat to the mix.
So, I think it would be fair to say that this dish of chick peas and sorrel just worked. The cumin brought the flavours of the various ingredients together and ensured that whatever else this may be – buttery/sharp/sour/sweet – it was essentially inspired by Middle-Eastern spices, textures and flavours. It wasn’t a comforting, warming meal like the chickpea and pasta soup, but it wasn’t meant to be. And that’s partly why I love chickpeas so much; their versatility.
Looking now at the recipe in Nigella Express, and also considering Nigella’s inspiration for this dish – spinach and lemon juice– I really think that sorrel should be the first choice for anyone thinking of evoking a leafy-sharp accompaniment to chickpeas. I would be hard-pressed knowing exactly how much lemon juice to squeeze in, just how much spinach/rocket/watercress etc to use. A naturally sour leaf like sorrel has its own innate sharpness and adds just the right piquancy to the chickpeas. I certainly don’t know if the addition of sherry in Nigella Express would do the job at all well, but I have yet to try that recipe on its own merits, so I’ll diplomatically reserve judgement.
I’ve mentioned what else we served with these chickpeas, and it doesn’t seem right not to mention how the other dishes turned out. Needless to say, the marinated kebabs were fantastic. I am eternally grateful to Jamie for that recipe. The lamb was permeated with a real earthy, aromatic spiciness and the red pepper and onion were so tender, sweet and juicy from the heat of the grill. Chris assembled the kebabs in his own way by opening up the griddled pitta to make a “wallet,” spearing the skewer into the pouch of the pitta through a 45 degree angle (ish) – meaning that all the meat was inside of the pouch – then holding the meat firmly in the pitta pulled the (now clean) skewer out, leaving the juicy meat, pepper and onion in the pitta (see picture). He then smeared this with the garlic and mint mayonnaise. I hardly need to say it – do I? – but this was absolutely stunning! Dad’s tomato salad was heavenly – the tomatoes were bursting with sweetness, freshness and juiciness and the sharp dressing was the perfect blanket. In fact, the whole meal just worked. Everything was infused with an earthy spiciness and I will own up to the fact that I haven’t eaten such an aromatic, heady and Middle-Eastern-inspired meal before.
I can also assure you that I was very pleased with the taste of them. I love chickpeas – would always be predisposed to anything with chickpeas in – and these chickpeas were no exception. Again, they were utterly soft and easy to bite into. They were meaty, starchy and filling with a well-rounded mouth-filling nuttiness. Okay, I will admit that they weren’t as good as the chickpeas which I used in the chickpea and pasta soup. They weren’t quite as buttery or nearly as creamy, which makes them – I suppose – feel less of a treat. This is probably because they weren’t dried, soaked and cooked and that’s not even taking into account that wonderful tenderising paste that Nigella introduced me to. I am sure it is also because the chickpeas in the soup were actually cooked in a heavenly and fragrant broth and so swelled with all that absorbed golden goodness. I suppose this raises the question of whether – then – it would have been better to soak and cooked dried chickpeas specifically for this meal. Simple and quick though this meal is, when (and it is when) I cook it again, I will use dried chickpeas. Good though these chickpeas were; the others were transcendental and it is hardly a bother soaking dried chickpeas, especially when the reward is so great. The chickpeas were partnered exquisitely by the sorrel. The sorrel played its role to perfection in this dish. As Nigella said, it provided both leafiness (albeit wilted) and sourness. Now, I love chickpeas (as you know) and many dishes (like the soup) play on their natural creaminess and butteriness by partnering them with another ingredient that echoes that flavour and texture. For example, the soft and starchy filling pasta was actually very similar – in build and taste – to the chickpeas. I love this. The sorrel, however, did a completely different job. The sorrel is sharp and acidic-sour and completely lifts the chickpeas into a totally different flavour-level. I loved this very different taste sensation. It was so refreshing to eat – on the same fork – a buttery starchy chickpea with a wilted tangle of wincingly sour sorrel. Two flavours that are completely different, yet work so well together. I should own up to the fact, however, that I would have liked more sorrel in this dish. The chickpeas were wonderful and were partnered very well by the sharpness of the sorrel, but 50g of sorrel doesn’t stretch far and as I say I loved that taste combination. I wanted it on *every* forkful. Ideally, I would have doubled the quantity of sorrel to 100g. I am quite annoyed that it is now coming near to the end of the sorrel season and I suppose I’ll have to wait now until early June-July next year before I make my changes. The chickpeas and sorrel weren’t the only ingredients at play here, though. I loved the onions and garlic. I am glad I didn’t blitz them to mush in the food processor because I liked the texture of the finely chopped onion and I also really liked the fact that they had been sweated in oil a little first. They were very sweet and also aromatic and heady with that infused cumin. And those background flavours were just gorgeous. As I say, I love that aromatic pungency of deep, smoky cumin and it worked wonders here. It provided a delicious blanket of background flavour on which the sorrel and chickpeas worked their magic. I have mentioned this, but there were cumin seeds and dried cumin in the marinade for the lamb and not only does it go to show I picked a sensible accompaniment to the chickpeas with sorrel, but the cumin in both united the component parts harmoniously and ensured that the meal worked as a congruent whole. I must admit that I didn’t really get much of the fiery heat from the dried red chilli (I used a Kashmiri dried red chilli from Waitrose and I did buy them quite recently, so they shouldn’t have lost all of their heat yet. Hmmmmm....). I didn’t mind really though, because what with the aromatic pungency provided by the cumin, the sweet onion, the nutty chickpeas and the sharp sorrel, I don’t know if you need to add fiery heat to the mix.
So, I think it would be fair to say that this dish of chick peas and sorrel just worked. The cumin brought the flavours of the various ingredients together and ensured that whatever else this may be – buttery/sharp/sour/sweet – it was essentially inspired by Middle-Eastern spices, textures and flavours. It wasn’t a comforting, warming meal like the chickpea and pasta soup, but it wasn’t meant to be. And that’s partly why I love chickpeas so much; their versatility.
Looking now at the recipe in Nigella Express, and also considering Nigella’s inspiration for this dish – spinach and lemon juice– I really think that sorrel should be the first choice for anyone thinking of evoking a leafy-sharp accompaniment to chickpeas. I would be hard-pressed knowing exactly how much lemon juice to squeeze in, just how much spinach/rocket/watercress etc to use. A naturally sour leaf like sorrel has its own innate sharpness and adds just the right piquancy to the chickpeas. I certainly don’t know if the addition of sherry in Nigella Express would do the job at all well, but I have yet to try that recipe on its own merits, so I’ll diplomatically reserve judgement.
I’ve mentioned what else we served with these chickpeas, and it doesn’t seem right not to mention how the other dishes turned out. Needless to say, the marinated kebabs were fantastic. I am eternally grateful to Jamie for that recipe. The lamb was permeated with a real earthy, aromatic spiciness and the red pepper and onion were so tender, sweet and juicy from the heat of the grill. Chris assembled the kebabs in his own way by opening up the griddled pitta to make a “wallet,” spearing the skewer into the pouch of the pitta through a 45 degree angle (ish) – meaning that all the meat was inside of the pouch – then holding the meat firmly in the pitta pulled the (now clean) skewer out, leaving the juicy meat, pepper and onion in the pitta (see picture). He then smeared this with the garlic and mint mayonnaise. I hardly need to say it – do I? – but this was absolutely stunning! Dad’s tomato salad was heavenly – the tomatoes were bursting with sweetness, freshness and juiciness and the sharp dressing was the perfect blanket. In fact, the whole meal just worked. Everything was infused with an earthy spiciness and I will own up to the fact that I haven’t eaten such an aromatic, heady and Middle-Eastern-inspired meal before.
(With the chickpeas; warming through prior to serving)
Other person’s perspective: Chris really liked this. He said that his favourite flavour was the earthy and aromatic cumin. Like me, he said that the chickpeas with sorrel fitted what else we were having perfectly (unsurprising really Chris, because I built the rest of the meal around this!). He liked what sorrel was in the dish and described it as bitterly sharp. He would have preferred this with a lot more sorrel though (and of course, I agree). Chris loved the whole meal. It was one earthy, hearty meal!
Other person’s perspective: Chris really liked this. He said that his favourite flavour was the earthy and aromatic cumin. Like me, he said that the chickpeas with sorrel fitted what else we were having perfectly (unsurprising really Chris, because I built the rest of the meal around this!). He liked what sorrel was in the dish and described it as bitterly sharp. He would have preferred this with a lot more sorrel though (and of course, I agree). Chris loved the whole meal. It was one earthy, hearty meal!
(Dad's tomato salad)
(The garlic-mint mayonnaise)
(Jamie Oliver's "best" marinated lamb kebabs)
Future changes: Okay, probably obvious but there is no way that I will make this with tinned chickpeas again. Instead, I would always opt for dried/soaked chickpeas (using that tenderising paste if you please). I said that I would double the quantity of sorrel, and Chris – when I asked him – said that he would treble it! So, the overriding future change is one of more sorrel (the exact scale to be determined, I guess). Even though I couldn’t really taste the dried red chilli, I would leave it as is, although I would be tempted to add more onions, more garlic and a much bigger pinch (or three!) of dried cumin – just to “up” the flavour of this great dish.
(Check out this plate of pure gorgeousness!)
Rating: A 5/5 from me and a 4/5 in its present state from Chris, giving it an overall rating of 4 ½ / 5.
