Coleslaw with an asian twist

Coleslaw used to be one of my favourite salads. Childhood days in my Mum's late 1970s kitchen, when Margaret Fulton ruled (she still does occasionally), and when a "salad" was always lettuce, tomato and cucumber with french dressing. There were only two other variations - Potato salad (with bacon chips from a jar) and the aforementioned, sweet and dripping with store bought "coleslaw" dressing. My mum used to add nutmeg and somehow this translated it into a dessert rather than a vegetable. But one day, I tried the coleslaw from a take-out restaurant, and this soggy mess with raw onions and bland flavour destroyed it for me. I will never eat coleslaw again.

But, I will take some of the ingredients, and give it my own twist. I'll eat this kind, and so does everyone else - it's a party favourite. It even has a crunch honouring my mum's bacon chips on potato salad.

Ingredients:

• 2 cups grated carrot (or fine julienne is better if you can be bothered)
• 2 cups finely sliced red cabbage (also called purple cabbage or blue kraut)
• 1/2 cup coriander leaves
• 1/2 cup mint leaves
• 2 tbsp sesame seeds
• 3 tbsp teriyaki sauce
• 3 tbsp white Japanese sweet sauce (*see note on sauces)
• 1/2 tsp sesame oil
• 1/2 cup aloo bhujia for topping **
  

Roasted Vegetable Salad

This is such a vibrant salad. Considering it is so hot here, even over Christmas, not everyone wants a bowl of hot roasted vegetables. It’s easy to prepare before-hand and features plenty of local and seasonal ingredients. It’s wonderful with turkey, but also makes a great accompaniment to grilled seafood.

Ingredients:

• 500g pumpkin, peeled and cubed
• 1 bunch of radishes
• 5 small beetroots, quartered
• 250g roca (arugula)
• 1 tbsp warm water
• 1 big pinch of saffron
• 1 tsp honey
• coarse salt to taste
• ¼ cup flaked almonds
• 2 tbsp labneh
• 1 tbsp olive oil
• squeeze of lemon
• 1 tsp sumac
• 1 tsp brown sugar
• herbs for garnish (za’atar or coriander)

Pomegranate and Quinoa salad

I've just discovered that you can cook quinoa in a rice cooker. This means no more sticky-together or crunchy bits, no more burned quinoa stuck to the bottom of the pan, and no more constant checking. Just plop in 2 cups of quinoa to 4 cups of water, turn it on and go away.

As a result, I'm finally cooking more quinoa.

Quinoa has a very woody flavour, and it needs something with it to temper the strength of this, particularly if you are trying to get kids to eat it. I've tried it warm and curried (here), which I thought was pretty good, but it got the definite thumbs down from the kids. This time, I served it cold, and to balance the raw and dusty flavour, added pomegranate seeds for sweetness and mint for freshness. And pine nuts, just because I like them.

Fattoush - the salad for non-salad lovers

I hate salads that taste like a pile of grass. I'm more of a caesar salad person - sure, I like some leaves, but I prefer them crunchy, and then I want a whole heap of non-salad items in there, like bacon, eggs, bread and cheese. Or maybe a complete lack of leaves, like in a greek salad - again, with the cheese, and something tangy like olives. But just don't serve me weeds - ugh.

This region has a famous salad, and I'd never heard of it before I arrived - but now I order it everywhere. I'm on my own special mission to find the best Fattoush (also fatoush, fattush and probably a myriad of other spellings) that can be found in Dubai. So far, it's a war between Bayt al Wakeel on the Bur Dubai side of the creek in the middle of the Old Souk, and Tagine, at the One and Only Royal Mirage.

Fattoush's wonderful addition is fried bread. It's like an arabic crouton, but better, and I make mine in the oven and they taste just as good. These croutons are so awesome, I eat half of them before I even make the salad. But the salad is pretty good too - it's fresh, aromatic, colourful and crunchy. 

Remembering French Provincial Markets

For the last three years, we have escaped the Dubai heat and travelled to southern France. Languedoc, Dordogne, Cote d'Azur, Var, Vaucluse - we've seen them all. And there's one thing that binds them - something I can't seem to get anywhere else in the world.... Radishes. Not just any kind of radishes - the tiny sweet, peppery rosebud type aptly named "French Breakfast" radishes. I don't eat them for breakfast, but they do taste amazing with a baguette, a slab of butter and Camargue sea-salt flakes, with a chaser of Picpoul or Provincial Rosé. 

The problem with French Breakfast radishes is that they expire very quickly, and so that's why you rarely see them out of a French Provincial market, so when I saw fresh, crisp ones at the local Hypermarket the other day, I nearly upturned the nearest veggie crate and started singing "La Marseillaise" with my hand over my heart. But what to do with them when the traditional 5 o'clock hors d'ouvres are off the menu? Salad. And I gave them a regional stamp.

Mayonnaise - Jar or home-made?

I've tried to make mayonnaise several times in my life. Sometimes it works, and less times it doesn't. There's really no excuse for not making it, of course, because even when it doesn't work, the ways to fix it are easy (I love the way this lovely lady makes her mayo). Except, it's fairly easy to buy good mayonnaise in a jar. But is it good?

Jar mayonnaise is fine for sandwiches, and as an ingredient to mix into other dressings, but when the mayonnaise is the main ingredient in a sauce or dressing, it is obvious when it's store-bought. The other reason to make your own mayo is when you want to play with the consistency. For example, in a potato salad I like my mayonnaise loose and runny - if it's too thick, then when combining, it buffs up the edges of the potatoes, and besides, it's just far too stodgy.


So here's how the slap-dash cook makes potato salad:

Chicken and Herb Salad

The problem with living life as a hedonista is that you tend to get fat - all of that overindulgence eventually catches up with you. I have a friend who refuses to let that get him down - he laughs and pops another cholesterol pill with his saucisson, and says that life would be meaningless without good food. I however, also take pleasure from wearing beautiful clothes, and at the moment, all I fit into is tents from Carrefour.

So. Diet. But what diet for a hedonista? The Atken's Diet of course. Well, maybe an abridged one - I simply avoid all starches (rather than all carbohydrates including sugars) every second day, and amazingly, it works. When things get really bad, I have to go weeks on end without starch, but that has a particularly cranky side effect. 

Green means hot

I am a very fortunate lady. Not only have I got a husband who very cleverly got us an expat stint in the centre of the world, but I also have Mary in our household. The title of "housemaid" does not fully describe her position or influence. Some days she is Maid, others Nanny, but my favorite is Chef. Mary is Tamil Sri Lankan, and so much of her food is in that vein, but she is also an exceptional study and has a remarkably good palate, so anything she finds lying in the bottom of a fridge drawer or at the back of a pantry can be added to other flavours to make something wonderful. The only underlying theme - chilli, and boy oh boy, she does like it hot!

The other week she made what she calls "herb relish". It has leafy herbs and onion and green chili, and is amazing next to her curried eggplant. It inspired me to make the sauce below - I love the fresh flavours, and imagined it without the rice, but with cucumber in it to cool that chili a little. So here we have my spicy green salad:

Rainbow Stir-fried Vegetables

Stir-fries didn't exist when I was a child in Australia. My vegetables were served up in steamed to the devil gray mounds in unidentifiable varieties - probably a good thing, because quite often they contained broad beans, cabbage and brussel sprouts. I remember rejoicing when my Mother took a six week Thai Cookery course, and she came home at the end of it with stuff like coconut milk, ginger, lemongrass and chili. Until then curry had meant a bechamel sauce with Keens Curry powder stirred into it.

The wok became the most desired piece of kitchen equipment. Not only did it make a wonderful hat, shield or striking implement in war games with my younger brother, but it also meant that if Mum got it out of the cupboard it meant we were eating colour for dinner.

Tips with cooking veggies in the wok. Cut all the vegetables into slices that will cook in the same amount of time. Snow peas only take two minutes, so make sure you cut the carrot thin enough so it's not raw when you take it out. Secondly, you want cooked, but crisp - otherwise the colour and moisture leaves the vegetable and ends up in the bottom of the wok.