Asian Improvisation

I selected a few recipes to make in the first half of this month, mostly from Delicious magazine back-issues and my new Rick Stein book (Far Eastern Odyssey). I stocked up on meat, some vegetables, spices and SE Asian speciality ingredients, and then promptly ignored half the recipes.

So I had a chicken, and decided to create my own Asian broth rather than follow a recipe. It's a first attempt, and therefore somewhat less polished than my normal posts, but it's good enough for me to want to record it here for future reference.

Ingredients

1 medium chicken

1 stick celery, chopped

2 sprigs fresh green peppercorns

2-3 star anise

2 large lemongrass stems, peeled, topped and tailed, and chopped

2 large cloves garlic, squashed but not peeled

4-5 cloves

2cm stick cinnamon, crushed

1 tsp black peppercorns

1 large bay leaf

3-4cm root ginger, peeled and chopped

2-3 lesser galangal roots, chopped but not peeled

1 tbsp dried shrimp

2 limes

1 hot chilli (I used Scotch bonnet), halved

fish sauce

chestnut or shiitake mushrooms, sliced

1/4 white cabbage (or pak choi, water spinach or other bland leafy vegetable), thinly sliced

1/2 packet rice noodles (I used pad thai)

2-3 spring onions, finely chopped

palm sugar or light brown sugar

sweet chilli sauce to serve

Put the chicken into a large pan. Add the celery, green and black pepper, spices, lemongrass, garlic, bay leaf, ginger and galangal, and dried shrimp, but not the chilli (unless you want it to be very hot). Add enough cold water to cover the chicken.

Bring to the boil, cover the pan and simmer for 1-1/2 hours, until the chicken meat starts to fall off the bone.

Remove the chicken carefully, set aside. Strain the soup, return to the pan. Add the chilli, continue simmering. Taste regularly, and when it has reached the desired level of hotness, remove the chilli.

Meanwhile, remove the meat from the chicken and shred with forks. Season the soup with fish sauce, the juice of the limes, and the sugar, to taste. Add the cabbage and mushrooms, and return the shredded meat to the pan. Simmer until the cabbage is almost tender, then add the noodles.

Serve when the noodles are tender, sprinkled with spring onion and chilli sauce.

Risotto I: The Traditional Way

I make a lot of risotto. It's one of my top comfort foods. It's never a quick option (it takes around 30-45 minutes), but it's not too much hassle, and is so deliciously indulgent it has to be worth the wait.

A lot of people, it seems, think risotto is complicated or difficult. It really isn't. There's a lot of dogma attached to this family of dishes, but what follows is my own view.

Having made hundreds of risottos (I shy away from using the plural risotti - it just doesn't feel right), some from recipes, more often from what I had to hand, I can present a core formula, whose ingredients are essential. From there, you can create many variants by adding extras.

Core risotto
Ingredients

• Risotto rice (arborio, carnaroli, vialone nano)
• Stock (vegetable, chicken, beef, veal, fish or shellfish)
• Olive oil (I use extra virgin for everything nowadays) and/or butter
• Hard to semi-hard strong cheese (Parmesan, pecorino, or a vegetarian substitute, even Emmental, Gruyère, etc)
• Wine or wine vinegar
• Onion and/or garlic, finely chopped

Method

• Heat the oil and/or some of the butter in a non-stick pan (not a frying pan); add the onion/garlic. Fry until soft and golden.
• Add the rice, fry for a minute or so.
• Add the wine (enough to just cover the rice), or a dash of wine vinegar
• Add enough stock to cover, if using vinegar, or wait until the wine has been absorbed.
• Keep adding stock to cover the rice once the previous stock has been absorbed. Continue until the rice is tender but retains a little bite.
• Add more oil/butter, and grated cheese, and stir through. Serve immediately.

Notes

• Quantities are dependent on how much you want to make - it's down to how much rice you put in the pan. Just keep adding liquid until it's done - never let it dry out completely, or it will burn.
• The type of rice you use matters - it has to be risotto rice, or at the very least a similar kind, such as paella rice. I even used sushi rice once, and it was partially successful (but went much softer than is really appropriate). The grains must to be short and fat, which produce a creamy liquid but retain a certain bite. I can't say I have noticed much difference between the different types of risotto rice - some people claim to, but it seems a minor concern.
• My use of wine vinegar is unorthodox, but I don't usually have wine in, whereas I always have white or red wine vinegar in my cupboard. A dash adds a sharp complexity, similar to wine, but it is easy to overdo it - a dash is sufficient. If using wine, it's nice to serve the rest of the bottle with the risotto, so use something you'll like. White is more traditional, red works fine but produces a risotto with a strange, murky colour; rosé might be okay, but sweet wines are not suitable. Go for something not-too-assertive - you don't want to overpower the rest of the ingredients. Dry white vermouth is fine, and a light dry cider or sake might work.
  
• Homemade stock produces a subtler result, and you may need extra salt. Stock cubes are fine for most situations. Homemade chicken stock tends to be glutinous, and the result is a smoother-textured risotto. In general, any stock will do.
• Oil and butter are best. Oil for the initial frying (maybe a dab of butter), and butter at the end to stir through. This makes the texture smoother and richer. I often drizzle oil over at the end; remember, this is not health food. Flavoured oils can be nice at the end - truffle for complexity, chilli or garlic for zing, herbs for fragrance. Extra virgin is best, but for the initial frying, you could use a lower-grade oil.
• Onion is pretty much essential. I find it adds a savoury complexity and a second texture that makes the dish. Garlic adds some flavour, but is nowhere near as important. You could use shallots, or even leek if pushed.
• Finally, cheese. This adds yet more fat, but bumps up the umami, and saves the need for heavy seasoning. If I'm using stock cubes, and even sometimes unsalted homemade stock, I add no extra salt, as the cheese provides a salty-savouriness that suffices. It must be strong, hard, and not too fatty. Cheddar would separate and go greasy, without properly mixing through. Mascarpone or ricotta add a good mouthfeel, but are bland. Parmesan is easy, but other cheeses like a good aged Emmental or Gruyère work well, and if I have several cheeses in, I'll often use more than one kind.
  

So, that's the basic recipe. I almost always add more stuff, based primarily on what I have in the kitchen. Here are some guidelines:

• Meat, fish, shellfish: I prefer prawns to chicken, and these two are better than most other meats. If using, add at the beginning, fry with the onion. Frozen seafood is fine - add it halfway through. A rack or fillet of lamb is nice served alongside a simple risotto.
  
• Vegetables: a great risotto needs no meat at all. Try anything (except maybe aubergine), but don't use more than a couple of kinds, or the purity of flavour and texture will be lost. Add peppers, mushrooms and the like, chopped, at the beginning. Squashes and pumpkins, very finely chopped, along with broccoli and cauliflower, roughly chopped, go in with the stock so they are tender by the end. Fresh and frozen peas and beans can go in with the last of the stock, so they don't overcook. Dried mushrooms can be soaked in the stock to add complexity.
  
• Saffron is traditional for risotto alla Milanese; soak some strands in the stock beforehand, and strain out before adding if you don't want them in the finished dish. No other spices are really appropriate, but you could experiment.
• Fresh herbs are great - for most, finely chop and add right at the end when serving. Try tarragon, chives, parsley, basil, chervil, thyme, or combinations of these. Oregano might work, and rosemary, though this may be best added during cooking. Sage can be fried with the onion, or fried and added at the end, or both.

Essentially, risotto is about simplicity. It's rich, savoury, and balanced. Unlike many other rice dishes, such as paella and nasi goreng, less is more here. So long as the core elements are there, only a couple of extras need be added to produce a great result. I usually eat it unaccompanied, but it can serve as one part of a more complex meal. More than most dishes, risotto can be tweaked and varied endlessly. It's never going be to low-fat, and the basic ingredients are not the cheapest, but for satisfaction, comfort and taste, it's hard to beat.

This Season's Must-Have Cocktail

I recently visited London, a city I used to live and work in. I met up with a couple of friends, and ate some good food.

I also went for cocktails one evening. This was unplanned, but fun. My friend and I had just eaten in Chinatown, and wandered towards Covent Garden, past a place I've seen before but never visited (its location is too obvious to be good, or so I thought). We went in.

For such a touristy area, just off Trafalgar Square, it was not crammed, just nicely busy, and had a very chilled atmosphere. The décor was sophisticated, the staff friendly and quite attentive.

Happy hour meant cocktails were £3.75 - excellent for anywhere, but particularly central London. I started with a Vanilla Cherry Royale, described as "Cherry infused vanilla liqueur charged with Prosecco & Cherry Heering", which turned out to be rather too sweet and confected, though still drinkable. My friend had a Berry Cosmopolitan, "Absolut Kurrant [sic] & Absolut Raspberry [sic] shaken with Chambord black raspberry liqueur, fresh lime juice & a
dash of sugar syrup", which was nice, but strong-tasting. My second was also sparkling, a Pear & Rosemary Bellini (I was excited to see such unusual flavours on the happy hour menu), which was delicious, but I couldn't taste the rosemary (my friend could). Hers, however, was a triumph: Katana, described thus: "Muddled cucumber & mint shaken with Bombay Sapphire gin, pressed apple juice, fresh lime & a dash of sugar syrup."

It tasted so fresh I wished I'd chosen it, so I decided to recreate it at home. I'm planning several group events this summer, nominally barbecues, and a small selection of exquisite cocktails will fit the bill.

I don't dictate spirit brands; the bar chose Bombay Sapphire, which is a perfectly acceptable gin, but anything in the £15-20 price range would do (Tanqueray, Plymouth, Gordon's white label, etc). I'm currently using Blackwood's 2006 vintage (it has an uncommonly short list of botanicals, and frankly I'm doubtful any vintage character would show through in a spirit, but it's one of the best gins I've tasted). I've fiddled with various combinations, and here's my take on the recipe:

1 measure (25ml) sugar syrup
1 3/4 measures cucumber-mint-lime juice (see below)
2 1/4 measures pressed apple juice
2 measures gin
(makes 175ml, 2 UK units of alcohol)

- Shake all ingredients over ice, strain into a martini glass. Garnish (I'd err towards something with a contrasting colour; peony petals work well, or roses later in the summer - the bar chose a pansy. Otherwise a slice of cucumber and/or a spring of mint)
- To make the juice, purée a handful of mint (I'm using apple mint and spearmint as they grow in my garden, but it makes little difference), 1/3-1/2 cucumber, and the juice of a large lime using a blender or hand-blender; pass through a fine sieve. This makes around 200ml, enough for 4 1/2 cocktails.

Admittedly, the recipe above makes a large portion - you could adjust it down to fit a smaller glass. The colour is a cloudy pale green, the taste the essence of freshness and balance. I could drink it all day, barring the price and effects of the alcohol (though I reckon a good non-alcoholic version could be made - omit the gin, and substitute good mineral water, maybe).

On price, my gin cost around £13.50, which gives 14 double measures, the apple juice £1.50 a litre (both were on special offer), the limes 28p each (you can find cheaper, though these were large and juicy, so one lime does 4-5 portions), the cucumber probably around £1, the sugar is a storecupboard ingredient (I make my own syrup as required), and the mint was free. Even buying the last two, and spending £15 on the gin it works out at around £1.50 per portion.

In Praise of Pumpkins I

If one vegetable sums up how far I've come in my tastes, it's the pumpkin. The only thing I'd've done with one until quite recently is carve it - although since Hallowe'en was a fairly minor affair when and where I grew up, I don't remember even doing that, until my sister left home and started hosting spooky parties every year.

In fact, even now, most of my friends don't eat pumpkin, even if they bought it for carving; one or two of the more adventurous might make soup with the flesh of a Jack O'lantern. It's perhaps ironic that butternut squash, which does not grow reliably in the British climate, is much more pupular - but then imported butternuts are available all year round in supermakets here, and are quite cheap despite all those food miles. I like butternut squash, and it could be substituted into any of the recipes in part II, but probably not the 'beer' below. The same holds for other winter squashes - last autumn I got blue kabocha and adorable acorn squashes in Morrisons, and a reasonable variety are available in markets and ethnic shops in London (and doubtless eslewhere) when in season (in fact, there is a fabulous grocer in Penge - nominally Turkish, I believe - that sells the large, blue-green-skinned kabochas pretty much year-round). Inside, they are all similar, but I love the variety of shapes and colours - they are very decorative, and will keep well at room temperature, preferably cooler, for many weeks - a great seasonal alternative to flowers, in my opinion.

The one type that is not the same is the 'carving pumpkin', bright orange, ribbed, and usually larger than 'culinary' pumpkins, and ubiquitous for the last couple of weeks of October. The flesh is pale, far more watery, and quite fibrous. The other types, for eating, tend to have denser, smoother, more richly-coloured flesh with much more flavour. I didn't know this last year, but I bought a fair few from October onwards, and learned the difference. That's why I chose to make pumpkin 'ale', because the flesh of the larger carving pumpkins, while plentiful, didn't warrant any serious culinary use. I found an old Welsh recipe, whereby a pumpkin is opened and hollowed-out as if to carve, then filled with sugar, which dissolves the flesh, and topped-up when necessary. The sugar ferments, and produces a weak, sweet, probably quite bland alcoholic beverage. I didn't want to go to the trouble, and I suspect this recipe would make quite a mess as the skin goes soft, although my friend's sister, whose Hallowe'en party I attended last year, had followed a similar route in making spiced, sweetened pumpkin rum. I chose the easier, but still quite messy, method of cubing the flesh, puréeing it, and straining over white sugar. I added wine yeast, the juice of a lemon and an orange (as I originally intended to make wine, I wanted good acid balance), and instead of hops, the fragrant astrigency of bay leaves and juniper berries.

As an aside, the defining characteristic of a country beer, as opposed to a country wine, seems to be the speed of fermentation. [Although a further distinction is often the type of sugar used - brown, muscovado, or molasses, for beers, castor sugar for wines - this is not always the case, and either may be made from any kind of fruit, vegetable, or herb, with or without aromatic herbal additions.] I came to this conclusion after wading through a good couple of hundred recipes, looking for inspiration, and wondering about the prevailing nomenclature. A wine is fermented slowly, at a fairly low temperature, for weeks or months, until it has 'worked itself out' (i.e., the yeast has fermented as much sugar into ethanol as it can); a beer is fermented for a few days to a couple of weeks, and may thereby retain natural effervescence, and this is done at a higher temperature in order to attain low to moderate alcohol levels. Or at least, that's my interpretation - the logical conclusion is that there is a continuum of home-brews, and whether you call it a beer or a wine (or an ale, for that matter), is entirely up to you (I should point out that shop-bought drinks are usually much easier to define).

I was anxious to mimic the sensation of a light beer with my improvisation here, so I added the bay and juniper as they share certain aromatic compounds with hops (myrcene, pinene); I also kept the sugar fairly low, to prevent the mixture being too sickly; I wanted it to be ready in a few days, so I could take some to the Hallowe'en party. I fermented it at a high temperature, probably around 25-30°C, leaving the demijohn by a fire, turning occasionally. The final experiment was with effervescence - a success, despite my reservations. I decanted the beer into stoneware bottles, stoppered with wired-down corks (normal glass bottles might have exploded). The result was a light gold, cloudy, fizzy, fragrant, somewhat astringent brew, refreshing if a little odd. I reckon I could get used to it. In any case, it demonstrated the versatility of the pumpkin - if there is a glut next autumn (I intend to grow my own this year), I will certainly revisit and refine the idea...

Fruit Wine Update

Yesterday I began siphoning my fruit wines into clean demijohns. I have two batches on the go at the moment - this is my first year of home winemaking, and I started small.

I have three demijohns, and I have been meaning to start a new batch of wine, beer, or maybe mead for some time. I realised, the most logical course of action would be to siphon batch one into the empty demijohn, batch two into the newly-empty (and cleaned) demijohn that contained the first batch, and start my new batch in the one that held batch two. So, yesterday I started the process, which isn't terribly complicated, but needs a little care.

I cleaned the empty demijohn by scrubbing with hot water and washing up liquid inside and out (I have a bottle brush for the interior), then filling with warm water into which are crumbled a few Campden tablets, which disinfect the glass. Then, this is siphoned off, and the wine is siphoned in.

Today, I did the second batch. The motivation, other than a feeling of achievement, is that you get to taste the wines as you siphon them into their new home.

Both batches are of blackberry wine. My back garden has gradually been overgrown with brambles over the past few years, despite periodic attempts at clearing. The upside is that a huge quantity of free fruit is produced each year. Last year I made a fruit liqueur with some of the blackberries, boiling the fruit with sugar, straining, and mixing with Armagnac (you could use any spirit). Unfortunately, due to excessive pectin, it took on the appearance of clotted blood - lumpy crimson goo. It was, however, delicious, and remained pleasurable to drink for almost a year.

This summer, my grandparents leant me a couple of home winemaking books. My grandad has made his own wines and liqueurs for decades, although he doesn't any more. I saw the blackberry wine recipe, and decided it would be an excellent way to use up a few kilos of bramble fruit.

He leant me his two demijohns, and I bought the rest (another demijohn, a siphon, Campden tablets and wine yeast, the bottle brush, and a hygrometer) from Wilkinson, which sells a wonderful range of home brewing equipment. I picked enough fruit, followed the recipe (which involves steeping the fruit with boiling water and sugar, sieving, and fermenting with yeast for several months).

The first batch was made from fruit harvested in early August. Some of it was a little under-ripe, so it is lighter in colour and lower in natural sugars. The second batch, harvested a week or two later, contained much riper fruit, indeed some which was probably already fermenting on the plant. It's darker, and in theory, richer.

The first batch tasted yesterday as it did a few weeks ago - balanced, quite rich, still quite sweet, effervescent, and yeasty. Surprisingly, the second batch, a glass of which I have in front of me, is much drier. The colour is a wonderful bright ruby, and the smell and taste are much more redolent of the fruit it is made from. I suppose it is a little jammy, it's certainly less yeasty (still slightly fizzy, though - it's still fermenting quite vigorously), but has a tannic edge that might put some people off. I'm actually glad they are different - I decided not to blend the two batches, but rather to bottle them separately, not long after I started them off, to see which style I preferred, and to demonstrate that fruit wine can be complex too.

So, the two batches, once siphoned, are topped-up with boiled water that has been allowed to cool (so as not to kill the yeast), and re-sealed with airlocks. I don't know if they will be ready in time for Christmas, which was my hope, but my new project should hopefully fill the gap in the meantime. And that is? Well, not a fruit wine, but a beer - pumpkin beer, to be precise. But more on that in my next entry.

Pizza II: Toppings

I guess you can put whatever you want on top of a pizza, provided it doesn't need much cooking. Below are a few suggestions, based on the past few weeks.

For a start, I always put tomato on. To me, it isn't pizza without it. Use passata (sieved tomatoes), because it has the best balance of taste and texture - purée is too concentrated and thick, and tinned tomatoes are too watery and bland, unless you cook them down. Passata is cheap, and a carton at around 80p will do a good ten large pizzas (don't drown them!). Pour a little on, then spread with a spatula or the back of a spoon. Garlic- and/or herb-flavoured passata can be bought, or you can add a little dried oregano or basil. If you want fresh herbs, tear them over the pizza after you've cooked it, or the herbs will scorch and their essential oils will evaporate, defeating the object.

Next, onion. I like onion, and I think it's almost as important as the tomato (ditto for burgers, unless you use relish...). Red onion is that little bit milder, and looks nicer too. Slice thinly, and break the slices into rings, then sprinkle over the passata base.

The only other essential is cheese. Mozzarella is classic, of course, but rather bland. If using, go for pizza cheese, in blocks, rather than mozzarella di buffala campana, which comes in balls packed in tubs of water. The latter is too nice for pizza, and too moist - they'll make the base soggy (but use only this for dishes like insalata caprese, which I will no doubt discuss in a future entry). Pre-grated mozzarella is very convenient. Otherwise, you can use any mild- to medium-strength cheese that will go fairly elastic when melted, or a mixture. Emmenthal and gruyère work very well. I disapprove of cheddar, however, on two grounds: it is too strong, and it doesn't melt correctly (it tends to separate and go oily). Some people prefer very strong cheese, but in this case, the balance of flavours, and the texture of the cheese, is more important.

Beyond this, you can experiment a great deal. Olives are great - indeed, I only came to enjoy black olives a few weeks ago thanks to experimenting with toppings available cheaply from a local convenience store. Slice them. Green olives would be okay, I suppose. Salami is classic, but don't use anything too nice, or too lean. I find chorizo doesn't have the fat content to work here - it just goes dry. Also, it's best to buy the salami thinly sliced - it should go a little crisp during cooking. Bottled peppers are good, adding some sweetness and colour; drain them well, and chop fairly small (beware the liquid, which can make the pizza soggy).

Soft goat cheese, crumbled, or something special like taleggio, or even gorgonzola, would be nice for a special occasion. Pine nuts add crunch. Smoked salmon is, in my opinion, too intense and salty for a pizza, but if you used it sparingly, paired with a cream cheese such as ricotta, it could be successful. Fresh red chilli, or dried chilli flakes, can be fun if you like a bit of heat. Bottled artichokes or other antipasti are good if well-drained. A little spinach adds colour, although I find the stringy cooked texture a little annoying in this context. Finally, I love to drizzle a little garlic-infused olive oil on top. Basil oil or chilli oil would also do - use before or after cooking, or both.

Essentially, the only rules are: make sure the ingredients require only minimal cooking - no raw poultry, for example. Second, add fresh herbs at the end (the same would apply to flowers or lettuce, in the unlikely event you were using them), ditto rocket (arugula).

Preheat the oven to gas 9, or as high as it will go. I remember seeing a tv programme where Heston Blumenthal tried to create the perfect pizza, and the one point I took from it is the temperature. Traditional pizza ovens are really hot, far hotter than conventional domestic ovens, so to get anything near the right temperature, you have to push it to the max. The idea is to cook the pizza as quickly as possible, giving a nice crispness without burning. That's my attitude, anyway.

They don't take long - rather than timing them, I just keep checking until the toppings are cooked (e.g., the cheese should have melted and started going golden and slightly crispy, but nothing should be brown or black), as the bases will also be cooked by this point, if they are thin. Thicker bases take longer, so I guess maybe turn the oven down once the topping is done, and leave 5-10 minutes longer, just to be sure. If in doubt, don't put too much stuff on top, especially moist ingredients, because they will slow down the crisping-up of the bases. As with all recipes, the more you make, the better you'll be - it's more of an intuition for me now.

They can be eaten immediately, left to cool, or reheated.

And as for cost, the sky is the limit of course (you can go for foie gras and gold leaf if you feel like it), but for people on a budget like me, the biggest factors are the cheese and the meat. A bag of pre-grated mozzarella that will do 4-6 pizzas costs around £1.30-1.50, and a pack of salami will set you back £1-2. On this basis, a red onion, olive, cheese, and tomato pizza could cost (including the base) around 90p (roughly calculated), and one with salami but no olives maybe 10-20p more. One reason why I have eaten so many of these recently is that very few other home-cooked dishes are so satisfying at such a low price.

Pizza I: Dough

Early this August, I went with my mother to stay with my sister and her family, who live in the Midlands. My sister shares my mother's and my fascination with cookery books, and incidentally is in her final year of training to be a dietician (i.e. a medical nutritionist - not some phoney qualification, but rather a 4-year degree, including hospital placements). She also shares my dream of a rural house, big kitchen, a garden in which to grow as much of our own produce as possible, and a assortment of animals. In fact, although she lives in the suburbs, she has kept chickens on and off for some years, and grows a small range of vegetables and fruits, rather more conscientiously than me. But I digress.

I baked a fair bit while I was there - she was working at the hospital, whereas I stayed home with my mother to look after one or both of the kids (hyperactive youngsters). My sister showed me a new bread book she had acquired, and I worked from it, mostly making rolls, which must have been at least edible, as I baked up to a dozen a day (making dough at 7am on occasion, the resultant virtuous feelings not quite making up for the utter exhaustion later on).

In fact, it was she who started me off on the bread path a good few years ago. My sister discovered a few years ago that she has an intolerance to wheat gluten, and although she enjoys bread very much, she decided to avoid it as much as possible. She had a wonderful book, the World Encyclopedia of Bread and Breadmaking, which belongs to a series of equally good books covering subjects such as coffee, cheese, and potatoes, but gave it to me, since she would henceforth have little use for it. So I took it to university, and started baking, and my life (or at least, my attitude to bread) has never been quite the same since.

What does this have to do with pizza? Ah, well, although we don't tend to think of it as such, pizza is just a special kind of bread. For some reason, even in Italian cookery books, it is often treated separately to those other, similar, breads, such as foccacia - but the line between a foccacia, topped with oil, cheese, olives, and herbs, and a pizza, is slim. (I'm glad to see that the Wikipedia article on foccacia is 'part of a series on pizza', however). Well, my sister decided to make pizza, and as if to highlight its bready nature, made a standard batch of dough. She then simply flattened it out and covered it with appropriate toppings. It was delicious.

When I came home, I decided to replicate this, and since the end of August, I must have made pizza a dozen times or more. The case for pizza is strong: they're very cheap (see the end of the article below), very tasty, fairly quick, and very adaptable (the only case against is that I did get a bit sick of them after three days of pizza in a row one week). Here's how I make them:

First, the dough. The primary recipe for dough I've used is one I brought back from my sister, from her new book. The book is Dough, by Richard Bertinet, and although I don't totally agree with everything he says, I do very much like his simple white bread recipe:

• 500g strong white bread flour
• 350g water
• 10g yeast
• 10g salt

The first thing that stands out about this recipe is that the water is weighed, rather than measured by volume. This is actually quite revolutionary, and absolutely brilliant. It is, as he states, far more accurate (a standard measuring jug works in maybe 25ml gradients, or even as much as 100ml, and it's very difficult to be accurate even to tens of millilitres), but it is also less messy - you just weigh everything in the same bowl. The previous statement is dependent on the yeast, of course. I must admit, I have never used fresh yeast, although I very much want to, if only from curiosity. I accidentally bought yeast granules a few weeks ago - they look like tiny bobbles. This was a mistake, as they must be dissolved in (warm) water before using, or they won't mix fully into the dough. The best type of yeast, for everyday use, is the fine, 'powdered' type (it looks like tiny cylinders, the shape of hundreds-and-thousands, but much smaller, and remind me of bacilli). This can be mixed straight into the flour, and works straight away. If you use this, you only need the one bowl.

Okay, anyway, so you mix the four ingredients together, work the dough together with your hands, and knead with extra flour, until it forms a smooth ball that won't stick readily to your hands. The more you work the dough, the better, but I am lazy and generally mess around with it for about 5 minutes. Oil the bowl (extra virgin olive oil is my preference), cover either with cling film or a damp towel, and leave somewhere warm until it has doubled in volume. Then, break into pieces, flatten and stretch them on a non-stick or oiled baking sheet, and then add the toppings.

At this point, I should mention a few things. First, strong wholemeal flour can be substituted into the recipe, although I would caution against using 100% wholemeal, as the texture would not be 'pizza-like' enough, but it's a matter of taste, I suppose. The white flour can be '0' or even '00', which is usually reserved for pasta making; it will give a smoother result. Second, the thickness of the pizza base can be varied - another great advantage of making from it scratch. I prefer thin, so when you stretch the dough out, you don't leave it to rise again, and the above amount of dough will make four large, or perhaps six smaller bases. If you want a thicker base, you might only get two large pizzas from this quantity of dough, and you'd do well to leave it to rise a second time, until it reaches the desired thickness. In this case, cover again and place somewhere warm. Finally, if you want to flavour the dough, you could add a little cheese, something like parmesan that is strong but won't alter the texture of the dough too much, or paprika, basil, or maybe even a little pesto. To be honest, though, I don't think it's noticeable, especially if there's plenty of topping.

I have on occasion used a second recipe. This is a bit fussier, and to be honest isn't appreciably better, but it is more authentic, and if I wanted to impress, I'd probably go for this one. It's from Carluccio's Complete Italian Food:

• 400g '00' flour (superfine, sometimes labelled 'pastry flour')
• a pinch of salt
• 35g fresh (he says brewer's) yeast
• enough lukewarm water to make a soft dough

Now, obviously, I would subsitute in powdered yeast, probably a couple of teaspoons (I don't find you have to measure fast-acting yeast too carefully, once you get the hang of it). As for the water, just add some, and mix, then add more if you need to. The rest of the process is as above.

The biggest difference is the smoothness of the base, and the amount you can stretch it. The finer the flour, the more elastic the dough, and therefore the crispier you can make your bases. However, '0' and '00' flours are a little more expensive than standard strong flour, and you can't really mix in wholemeal as successfully, as the roughness of the latter will stand out more from the white in this case.

So that's the dough made, and shaped into bases. One last thing: I mentioned the cheapness of pizza as an advantage. Just talking about the bases, which are pretty much constant; a 1.5kg bag of flour can be bought for as little as 50-70p. From that, you can make 3 batches of 4 large, thin-based pizzas. One of these will probably satisfy a normal person (I tend to have two), especially served with salad, or as part of a larger meal. So, one large pizza base can cost as little as 6 pence, including the yeast, salt, and a tiny drizzle of oil.