Post the Seventy-third (in which our heroine wonders if her luck is changing)

Your heroine has oft-wondered if she was, perhaps, born under a bad sign.  To quote that great sage and philosopher, Homer Simpson, if it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all.  My family stopped sharing tips on horses with me years ago, so legendary is my rotten luck.  You could have Arkle in a fixed race with seven pregnant mares and a lame gelding, and if I backed him, he'd fall.  I once missed out on my dream job due to a series of tiny-but-cumulative events that led to me arriving at the interview half an hour late, with an unreadable CV, to a hiring manager who thought I didn't know how to send an email.  I generally don't bother entering competitions cause the last thing I won was a pink plastic money box in the shape of a bear dressed as a policeman when I was in senior infants.

I'd like to think there's a glimmer of change on the horizon, though.  Last Friday, I randomly texted into a radio station I don't even normally listen to register for a competition.  Within ten minutes, they'd called me asking if I wanted to play.  "Sure!" says I, understandably reluctant to admit to them that I had no idea what it was I was actually going to be playing.  Anyway, the upshot is, I won €140, which will make a handy dent in the Paris trip.  Ok, so I could have won 5 grand if I'd known Barack Obama's middle name (it's Hussein) and which Aussie golfer won the Open last year (Adam Scott), but still, it's a start, right?  Then, yesterday evening, my sisters and I won €50 on a scratchcard.  We're not exactly going to be retiring on it, but it's the price of a few drinks and you wouldn't step over it if you saw it lying in the street, like.

So, I've taken these two very small windfalls as veritable proof that Good Things Are Going to Happen to Me.  End of.  Being an unrelenting cynic and skeptic hasn't exactly availed me of much, so I'm trying on positivity for a while.  It feels a bit weird and doesn't necessarily fit very well, but I'll soldier on regardless.  Might as well get myself some crow's feet to go with the frown lines I already have, eh?

Anyway, on with the food.  Small windfalls notwithstanding, your heroine is still pretty much perma-broke, so the economic recipes shall continue for the foreseeable.  This dish is cheap-as-chips to make and is one of those great ones that you can make a massive pot of and eat for a couple of days, as the flavour just keeps on improving.  The quinoa also makes a great work lunch, with a spinach salad on the side.

Moroccan Chicken Stew - serves 4

4 chicken fillets, cut into strips                            2 onions, diced
4 cloves garlic, crushed                                        1 red & 1 yellow pepper, sliced
1 sweet potato, peeled & cut into 1" chunks        Tin of chickpeas
Tin of tomatoes                                                     1 tbsp Ras el Hanout*
Tsp each cumin, paprika & harissa paste              1/2 tsp each cinnamon & turmeric
Handful of cashew nuts

1. Heat a splash of oil in a large pot and saute the garlic and onion until just beginning to colour.  Add the chicken, sweet potato, peppers and all the spices except the harissa paste. Give everything agood stir and cook for five minutes.

2. Add the tomatoes and harissa, turn down the heat and allow everything to simmer away for a good hour, stirring every so often.  This should be quite a thick stew, but if it looks like it's getting a bit too dry, throw in a bit of chicken stock.

3. After an hour, add the chickpeas & cashew nuts, and taste to see if it needs more of any of the spices.  Simmer for another ten minutes, then season and serve with the quinoa below.


Chilli-lime Quinoa - serves 4

160g quinoa                                      300ml chicken stock
1 red chilli, finely diced                    2 fat cloves garlic, crushed
Zest & juice of 1 lime                       Knob of butter

1. Give your quinoa a really aggressive rinse in loads of cold water, then strain in a sieve.

2. Melt the butter in a large-ish pot, add the chilli, garlic, lime juice & zest.  Bring to a high simmer and allow to reduce to an almost paste-like consistency.

3. Add the quinoa to the paste, stir well and toast for three minutes.  Add the stock, cover and lower the heat to a bare bubble, and cook until the quinoa has absorbed all the stock.  This can take anywhere between ten and twenty minutes.  Don't stir the quinoa while it's cooking.  When the stock has absorbed, remove from the heat but allow to rest with the lid still on for another ten minutes, then fluff with a fork, and serve.

*What the frig is Ras el Hanout?
It's a Moroccan spice blend that literally translates as "Top of the Shop", as different spicemongers all had their own recipes for it, and basically the more fancy ingredients there were in it, the flasher you were.  You can buy it in good delis, but it's ridiculously easy to make, and it's dead handy to have in the press as it can be added to loads of dishes.  You can totally make this stew without it, but it won't have quite the same depth of flavour.  There are as many "recipes" for Ras el Hanout as there are spices that can go in it, but if you fancy having a bash at making your own, here's the combo I came up with:

4 tsp coriander seeds                          3 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp fennel seeds                               1 tsp black peppercorns
1 tsp cardamom seeds                        2 tsp turmeric
2 tsp ground cinnamon                       1 tsp paprika
1 tsp cayenne pepper                          Pinch salt

1. Stick all the seeds and the peppercorns into a dry pan and toast over a high heat until they're just beginning to "pop".  This will happen incredibly fast, so don't even attempt to leave the room or you'll burn the arse out of your pan and all your lovely spices.

2.  Tip into a pestle & mortar and grind to powder.  Add the powdered spices and the salt and mix well.  Store in a clean glass jar in a cool, dry place, and it'll keep for a good three months before it starts to lose its potency.

Post the Fifty-third (in which our heroine is happy with the Heineken Cup draw)

Ah, you have to love rugby.  No sooner is the season over and you're wondering how you're going to last until September, when the ERC step in with the draw for the next year's Heineken Cup pools, keeping you going for, ooh, at least a week while you try to decide which away trip you'd like to go on and waste countless hours in work looking at flights, which you can't actually book because they haven't published the match dates yet.  Leinster got a pretty nice draw this year - we're in Pool 5 with Scarlets, Exeter and Clermont.  ASM are the only potential spanner in the works there, as they are determined to win the HEC soon, and they're quite unhappy with us at the moment, having been beaten by us in the semi final this year.

Pool 2, on the other hand, is horrible.  El Grupo del Muerte.  Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.  Toulouse, Ospreys, Leicester Tigers and, erm, Benetton Treviso.  Poor Treviso.

I'm just going to gloss over the fact that the national team are still on tour in New Zealand.  I've decided to pretend we don't have a national team for the remainder of Declan Kidney's tenure.  It's just better for my mental health.

Anyway, moving swiftly on to the grub...  I'm just back from a few days in Kinsale, where I ate approximately my own bodyweight in seafood and brown bread.  I also ate my entire week's salary in seafood and brown bread (and possibly also one or two sociable drinks), so it's going to be a lean couple of days chez moi in both senses of the word.  A slightly less depressing option than beans on toast on constant rotation when your bank balance is less than rotund is homemade hummous.  Tins of chickpeas are ridiculously inexpensive (about 35c in Aldi) and there's also the added bonus of them being low in fat, low GI and generally all-round good for you.  And you should have practically everything else you need to make this already lying around the kitchen.

Chilli Hummous

1x 400g tin chickpeas, drained & rinsed                          1 red chilli, roughly chopped
2 fat cloves garlic, peeled & quartered                             Juice of 1 lemon or lime
Small bunch fresh coriander                                             Dash of olive oil
Salt & pepper to taste

1. Tip the chickpeas, chilli, garlic & coriander into a food processor and blitz til you get a crumbly mix.  Add the lemon/lime juice and pulse again, scraping down the sides between goes if you need to.  Then, with the motor running, drizzle in about a tablespoon of olive oil. Stop the motor (obviously), season with the salt & pepper, taste and season again if needed.

2. If the texture still isn't quite right (I like mine quite stiff), you can continue to thin the hummous out with a little extra olive oil, or even water if you're trying to undo the damage of four days in Kinsale.  Just keep checking the seasoning after every addition of liquid.

This will keep for a good five days in the fridge in an airtight container, but to be honest, it rarely lives that long - it's incredibly moreish with griddled flatbreads or even (dare I say it), carrot or cucumber sticks.

Post the Thirty-fifth (in which our heroine gives you one of her favourite recipes)

So, it's been a few days.  If you're one of my Irish readers, you will already be painfully aware that Ireland got knocked out of the world cup.  If you're one of my non-Irish readers, chances are you couldn't give a fiddlers anyway.  It was a dark day in the Coffey household.  England, South Africa and Argentina all also went home.  Three out of four pool winners knocked out in the quarter finals.  It's a funny old game.  The good news is that Leinster won their Rabo Direct Pro 12 game later that day, and our departure from the world cup means that my weekend sleeping patterns can finally get back to normal.  Every cloud, and all that.

Anyway, it's been so long since I posted here that I can't actually remember what day I cooked this recipe.  Doesn't really matter, I guess.  This is one of my all-time favourite recipes because it's ridiculously simple, absolutely delicious, and even if I haven't done a shop in absolutely ages, I nearly always have the makings of this knocking around.  It's also the kind of thing that can easily be scaled up if you have unexpected guests dropping in, maybe by adding a few chunks of potato and a diced chicken breast, it keeps happily in the fridge for a few days after cooking (and tastes better every day) and it also freezes excellently.  What's not to love?

By the way, it should go without saying that you want to use the thick, whole chorizo sausages here, not the flat pre-sliced stuff that goes in sandwiches.

Chorizo & Chickpea Stew - serves 4

200g chorizo, diced                       2 tins tomatoes (whizzed, if they're whole)
1 large onion, finely diced              3 fat cloves garlic, crushed
150ml white wine                          3 sprigs thyme, leaves picked
2 tsp smoked paprika                    Tin of chickpeas, drained & rinsed
Salt & pepper                               Pinch of sugar

1. Heat a large, heavy pot over a low-medium heat, add the chorizo and cook slowly until it renders its oil - as you can see it's a gorgeous red colour.  Add the onion and cook for five minutes, then add the garlic & thyme and cook for another five minutes, til soft but not coloured.  Add the wine and allow to bubble for another five minutes.

2.  Add the tomatoes, paprika & sugar and give everything a good stir.  Bring to a low simmer and cook for at least half an hour, but the longer & slower you cook it, the better it will be.  If it looks like too much of your cooking liquid is evaporating, add a little extra wine or chicken stock.

3. Just before serving, stir in the chickpeas and heat through.  Taste, season as needed, then serve in deep bowls with lots of crusty bread.  Fookin' delish, man.

Post the Twenty-eighth (in which our heroine has that Friday feeling)

First week in the new job over, a woohoo!  Friday has ever been my favourite day of the week, and I'm feeling particularly content today, seeing as I have a week of a real job behind me.  I know it's early days, but I'm very happy with the move.  The company is great, the people are lovely and there's just a really nice vibe about the place.  It's like a different planet to my last job.

There were a fair few sore heads going around the office today, yesterday being Cynical Marketing Ploy Arthur's Day.  For my non-Irish readers, this is an annual celebration of all things Guinness.  You can buy tickets for a venue or just go to your local and raise a toast to Arthur at a minute to six (1759 being the year Guinness was founded).  And in fairness, while it might be a marketer's dream, Diageo donate all the proceeds from the ticket sales to the Arthur Guinness fund, and this year they were donating an additional €5 for everyone who checked-in to Arthur's Day on Facebook.  Plus, y'know, it's an excuse to go to the pub.

I may have celebrated a bit too enthusiastically, however.  I spent the day with my eyelids at half-mast and a second pulse in my temple that was probably disturbing the person in the next office.  I had also drunk a litre and a half of water by 11am, and I haven't been to the bathroom yet.  I may very well give my bed a little kiss when I get into it tonight.

And now for the world's clumsiest segue, where I just bring the food in apropos of nothing.  Needless to say, I cooked nowt last night, as I was too busy laying the foundations for my hangover.  So this is Wednesday's dinner.  I had rehearsals for a cabaret-thing I'm doing next month on Wednesday night, so I didn't want anything too heavy - nothing worse than having to dance with a big sticky-outy belly flopping around in front of you.  So I decided to try and replicate the chicken & chickpea salad from Le Bon Crubeen, which my sister Clo mentioned on the low-carb post from a week or two ago.  It's actually nothing like that salad, though.  I marinated my chicken overnight in yoghurt, garlic & lemon zest, cause I vaguely remembered something about lemon & yoghurt from the menu the one time I was in Le Bon Crubeen.  Turns out their chicken is actually lemon & thyme, and they dress the salad with spiced yoghurt.  Ah well.  It was still delicious, and worth sharing, imo.

Lemon-yoghurt Chicken & Chickpea Salad - serves 2

2 chicken fillets, cut into strips                          Couple of tablespoons natural yoghurt
2 cloves garlic, crushed                                    Zest of a lemon
Bag of baby spinach                                         Tin of chickpeas, drained & rinsed
Medium onion, sliced                                        1 red pepper, thinly sliced

1. The night before, mix your chicken with enough yoghurt to coat, add the zest & garlic and a bit of salt & pepper.  Mix well, cover and stick in the fridge til tomorrow.

2. Preheat your grill to full whack, or get a griddle pan nice and hot.  Cook the chicken for a couple of minutes each side, being careful not to overdo it.  While the chicken is cooking, plate up your spinach leaves, chickpeas, peppers and onions.  Arrange the chicken on top, and commence nomming.  I squeezed the zested lemon and dressed my salad with that, but you could also mix the juice with half as much olive oil and use that.  I just don't like oily salad dressings.

Post the Ninth (in which our heroine has a moan about the weather)

Have a look out your window there.  Go on, a good long one.  If you are staring at an unbroken vista of slate-grey cloud, then you are obviously one of my Irish readers.  According to my stats, I have a reader in the Maldives.  I kind of hate that person a little bit.  Here we are in August, supposed to be the apogee of Irish summer (even though it's technically Autumn) and all we have is rainy wind and windy rain.  Which we also had in July, June and May.  There was a nice week or two at the end of April, but that was pretty much it.  I, for one, would love to know what the Irish as a people have done to offend the weather gods so much.  It must have been heinous.  I will admit to having dropped history like a hot snot after the Junior Cert., but even still, I'm pretty sure there aren't any genocides or rape-of-the-Sabine-women type episodes in our past that would merit such a punishment.  It's enough to make you wish for winter again.  But only if it's another brilliant winter like last year - bring on the snow!

The shite weather is causing a phenomenon called the Curryolis Effect in our house.  This is a little-known natural occurrence whereby you crave the sweaty armpits, red face and runny eyes that should really be supplied by hot weather, but which you have to generate artificially with hot food because summer has apparently abandoned us for all time.  I'm only a week into this blog and I'm about to post my second curry recipe.  How depressing.

Chicken & Chickpea Curry - serves 4

2 onions, quartered                       4 fat garlic cloves
3cm ginger, peeled                        1 large red chili, roughly chopped (seeds & membrane left in)
Bunch fresh coriander                    2 tbsp hot curry powder
Half tsp turmeric                            2 tsp paprika
1 tsp salt                                        1 chicken stock cube
500ml boiling water                        4 or 5 chicken fillets, cubed
Tin of chickpeas, drained

1) Stick the onions, garlic, chili, spices, salt, curry powder and half the coriander into a food processor and blend to a puree.  Tip the mixture into a large pot and cook over a low heat for 10 minutes, stirring frequently.

2) Crumble in the stock cube, add the boiling water and bring to the boil.  Add the chicken, stir, then lower the heat and simmer for 20 minutes, until the chicken is tender.

3) Chop the remaining coriander and stir into the curry along with the chickpeas.  If, like me, you love chickpeas and if, like me, you've already eaten half the first tin out of the colander, feel free to add another tin.   Heat through and divide between four bowls, swirl over some natural yogurt and serve with rice and poori breads.

Poori - makes 10 (WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!  Highly addictive little bastards, these)

175g self-raising flour                      1 tsp salt
1 tbsp vegetable oil                         1 tbsp natural yoghurt
3-4 tbsp water                                Oil for frying

1) In a large bowl, combine the flour, oil, yoghurt and salt.  Mix well and add enough water to make a soft dough.  Cover with a tea-towel and leave to rest for 15 minutes.

2) Turn onto a lightly floured board and knead well for 3-4 minutes or until smooth.  Divide into 10 balls and roll each into a very thin disc around 8cm in diameter.  Like-a dis:

3)  Heat about an inch of oil in a deep frying pan til it browns a cube of bread in 30 seconds.  Or, just guess when it's hot enough, like I do.  Carefully slide a poori into the pan.  When it puffs up (isn't that cool!) turn it over and fry for another minute.  Drain on kitchen towel and keep warm til they're all done.  They should be lovely and soft, not crispy at all.  Serve immediately.

You can thank/curse me later, when you're spreadeagled on the couch wondering whether it was really necessary to eat four of the damn things...