D is for Dandelion Tart in a Heart

 

My next consignment of dandelion leaves arrived on the 7.52 train from Pangbourne to Paddington. Their courier was Helen, a work colleague who picked them from her back garden. She had taken extraordinary care with them. They had been washed, patted dry and lined up in neat rows, all facing the same direction and tucked in with kitchen paper. It seemed a bit cruel to remove them, let alone cook them. But the Great Big Veg Challenge has a momentum of its own that is taking over. Freddie wants to know what's on the menu, as do friends at work and neighbours. Then there are all of you out there who encourage us. We reserved these pampered greens for a very special Friday night meal. Alexandra had been away from home for a week on a school trip. So I made four dandelion tarts in heart-shaped tins. Freddie made a little welcome home card for her place. For a second it felt like a Martha Stewart family moment. A split second. That was until I burnt my finger on the oven shelf, dropped one of the tarts and swore. Freddie looked up from his card-making with a withering glance. " Do you have to say that?"
I looked down at my heart-shaped tart splatted on the kitchen floor, muttered an apology and scraped it up with a fish-slice. That would have to be mine. Lots of well-meaning parenting guides say we have to lead by example. But you can bet that Freddie will not remember the fine example of my tart-cooking but the inappropriate swear word will be lodged permanently in his mind. Oh well. Alexandra came home, talking ten to the dozen about her wonderful adventures, loved Freddie's little card and the Dandelion tart. Freddie's score was seven and a half out of ten.

Dandelion Tart

500g readymade Shortcrust pastry
9 inch flan dish

Filling
3 eggs beaten
1 egg yolk
salt and freshly ground pepper
150ml of creme fraiche
4 handfuls of small dandelion leaves, roughly chopped
A large knob of butter
1 medium onion finely chopped
Two handsome pinches of smoked paprika
150g of grated Cheshire Cheese, or other white crumbly cheese

Method:

Preheat the oven to Gas Mark 6, 200'C, 400'F. Roll out the pastry on floured surface and line a lightly greased (9 inch)flan tin and chill for 10 minutes. You can use individual quiche tins if you prefer. Bake the pastry blind which means placing a large circle of baking parchment on top of the pastry weighed down with baking beans. Bake for 10 minutes then remove the paper and beans. Return to the oven for 5 minutes until lightly browned.
Remove and let it cool. Lower oven temperature to Gas Mark 4, 180'C, 350'F.
Saute the finely chopped onion until it is soft on a gentle heat. Add a couple of pinches of smoked paprika. In another small pan melt a knob of butter and when its just melted add your dandelion leaves, stirring so that they just wilt. Don't do this for longer than about 30 secs.

Layer the pastry case evenly with the onion and season. Scatter the dandelion leaves evenly through the case, reserving a few.
In a bowl, mix together the eggs, creme fraiche and cheese and season. Pour over the onion and dandelions and scatter the few remaining dandelion leaves on top.
Pour over the courgettes, scatter the pine nuts over the top and bake in the oven for 30-35 mins until slightly brown and set. Serve warm or cold with salad. Serves 6-8.

The game of tag

I've been tagged by Tinned Tomatoes (its a blogging thing). I always ended up as 'it' in the playground. So here goes.
Seven Random Food Facts
1. At the age of nine I kept a Brussel sprout in my mouth for two hours, eating my pudding (conditional on eating the sprout) with the vegetable hidden in the corner of a cheek. After supper I went to the top of the house and threw the sprout out of the attic window, into the garden.
2. At school I held the record for drinking the most glasses of milk without being sick. (8 glasses,the record remains unbroken)
3. I had coffee with Tony Blair at his home before he became Prime Minister.
4. I can make great Chelsea buns but terrible pastry.
5. My first temping job as a student was to cook for a young schoolmaster who was recovering from a back operation. He was the reason I learnt to cook.
6.When pregnant I consumed oceans of Sushi.
7. One year I stayed up until two in the morning icing the initials of all Alexandra’s classmates onto the top of 32 homemade fairy cakes. The following year, on her birthday, I bought 32 ready decorated cakes from the supermarket and let people think they were homemade.

I now have to "tag" several other people and inflict the urge to list-make on them.
David of Book the Cook, Garrett of Vanilla Garlic, Helen the angry commuter and Professor Adrian Monck you are tagged!

Dandelions in the Post

 

This morning when the postman came, he delivered dandelions. They arrived carefully packed in a padded envelope sent by a lady known to me only as Purple Luv. I met her on a BBC internet food message board where I appealed for help with D vegetables. In this virtual waiting room we chatted about dandelions with someone else known as Ian in France. London dandelions punch their way through the gaps in the paving stones but I wasn't going to feed them to my family coated in diesel fumes and dog pee. So I needed a purer supply. Purple Luv generously offered to pick them from a farm in Cheshire following Ian's detailed instructions. "...it's better to blanch the leaves - what some people do is to put a slate over the plants and wait a few days before picking just the palest yellow/green leaves, that way they're a lot less bitter." Ian also had invaluable information for me;
"I suggest you do them as the french do. Tepid salad. A couple of rashers of bacon cut up into strips, and some cubes of bread. Fry the bacon, when crisp remove to a warm place for a moment. In the same fat (add more if needed) fry up the cubes till crisp and golden. Tip in the bacon again, then tip the lot over the dandelion. Use the fat to make a simple dressing (lemon, made mustard and pepper). Tip over, toss and serve right away."

 

So this is what I did with my Dandelions from Cheshire and my recipe from France with some added asparagus tips. It was a perfect arrangement coaxed from the internet. And Freddie has been following the story of the dandelions as if it were a wonderful fairytale. He imagines Purple Luv covered in purple dandelion flowers, a magical figure who is guided by Wizard Ian from his castle in France. And consequently Freddie, taken up by the magic of the whole story, ate dandelions. His score for the Dandelion salad was eight out of ten. Thank you Ian and thank you Purple Luv!

 

Ding Dong, the Daikon's Dead!

 

Daikon and Lamb Casserole
Despite two outings, there was still a large torso of Daikon left to eat. Top Veg left a useful comment on the blog, having visited a Chinese neighbour for the inside knowledge on this veg-beast. "The meat gives it good flavour. She kept repeating this...it is the opposite of our cooking, where we add veg to the meat to flavour the meat during cooking. Winnie said add the meat to the Daikon in stews & casseroles. The meat will give the Daikon a good flavour!"
So taking on board this advice, I bought some lamb neck fillet, cooked it for five minutes with some chopped red onions,clove of garlic, a few mushrooms,herbs and seasoned it. I hacked the remaning boulder of Daikon into small cubes and boiled it for 20 minutes with a vegetable stock cube. I must warn you that Daikon seems to be indestructible. It barely flinches in boiling water. It is the Freddie Krueger of veg. I then drained it and added it to the lamb with a tin of chopped tomatoes and half a glass of red wine. And then I put it all into a casserole dish and into the oven at 180 for an hour and a half.
The meat did make the Daikon taste a little better. My husband, who will eat anything and rarely complains, muttered, "Thank God that's finished." Freddie ate all the lamb and two chunks of Daikon and left the rest. I didn't have it in me to make a fuss. His score was five out of ten.
As we finished the meal, the children started to sing a bowdlerized version of the Wizard of Oz "Ding Dong! The Daikon's dead. Which old Veg? The Wicked Veg!
Ding Dong! The Wicked Veg is dead." We all joined in. That's enough Daikon for anybody.