Latest news with #comfortFood
BBC News
4 days ago
- General
- BBC News
Did Welsh Rarebit start out as a joke by the English?
It's a beloved national dish of Wales and is found on restaurant menus across the country, but did Welsh rarebit actually start life as a joke played by the English?Toasted bread smothered in a rich, cheesy sauce - what's not to love? But the origin stories of this nostalgic comfort food are as varied as the recipes you can use to make credit poor farmers using a clever substitute for meat while others think English pubs coined the name as a joke, mocking the Welsh for not affording real which of these cheesy tales cuts the mustard? Welsh food historian and author Carwyn Graves said rarebit was "clearly associated with cultural and ethnic Welshness", with cheese being a vital part of European diets for a long time, especially in regions like Wales, where the dairy industry the Middle Ages, before refrigeration, cheese and butter were essential for preserving milk from the spring and summer for use during the colder was also a vital source of protein for poorer communities, particularly in areas like Wales and the Alps, where meat was scarce. In Wales, melted or roasted cheese became popular across all social classes, eventually evolving into Welsh 1536 Act of Union, incorporating Wales into England, saw Welsh migrants bringing melted cheese dishes to English Graves said the English saw it as an ethnic curiosity, even joking about 16th Century tale sees Saint Peter trick Welshmen with the call caws bobi - Welsh for roasted cheese - which he said reflected the dish's cultural ties to name Welsh rarebit appeared much later, with early English cookbooks, such as Hannah Glasse's in 1747, using terms including Welsh rabbit and Scotch rabbit for similar cheese on toast Mr Graves said there was no historical evidence linking the name to actual rabbits and he said the theory that poor people couldn't afford rabbit meat and used cheese instead was unproven. Kacie, from The Rare Welsh Bit food blog said Welsh rarebit, also known as Welsh rabbit, originated in the 1500s as a popular dish among Welsh working-class families who couldn't afford meat like rabbit, using cheese on toast as a substitute. According to her, the dish was first recorded in 1725 and over time, the name shifted from Welsh rabbit to Welsh rarebit, possibly to move away "from patronising connotations associated with the nature of the dish as a poor man's supper". Katrina from Real Girls Travel explained "nobody's quite sure how the name came about", but it's generally believed "Welsh rarebit" likely began as a joke about the poor people of south Wales, who were thought to live on rabbit and ale. She added that many mistakenly think Welsh rarebit contains rabbit because the dish was originally called "Welsh rabbit" in 1725. According to Katrina, the name probably changed because, in the late 17th and early 18th centuries, the English often gave humorous or fanciful names to regional foods, making the change "an attempt to make it a more fitting dish"."I personally think it was a language barrier or a strong Welsh accent that gave the dish its name," she added. In Sarah Fritsche's blog the Cheese Professor, she explained the word "Welsh" was used as an insult in 1700s Britain, similar to how "welch" functioned as a pejorative. According to Ms Fritsche, "rabbit" was used humorously because only the wealthy could afford real rabbit, making the cheesy toast a "poor person's substitute".She added "rarebit" was a corruption of "rabbit" and is unique to this dish, first appearing as "rare bit". Rose Geraedts, originally from the Netherlands, has lived in Brecon, Powys, for 20 years and runs the International Welsh Rarebit opened the business eight years ago after noticing cafes and pubs in the area were not serving it, despite high demand from tourists. "I thought it was crazy that a national dish wasn't on the menu. I think many saw it as old-fashioned," she took over a disused Victorian school building, renovated it and made Welsh rarebit the star of the show."It seemed mad not to do it - but a lot of people think I'm nuts," she cafe now offers six varieties and Ms Geraedts said customers loved the dish's rich, comforting flavour, seasoned with cayenne pepper, nutmeg, paprika and Worcestershire sauce. Ms Geraedts said she had welcomed visitors from around the world, from Australia to America, and even served celebrities including Jonathan Ross and rugby legend Gareth added: "People love it because it's nostalgic. They remember their mother or grandmother making it."It's much more than just dry cheese on toast."Ms Geraedts believes rarebit became popular due to Wales' connection to cheese-making, despite its name being a sarcastic "patronising" English joke. University lecturer, dietician, cook and food writer Beca Lyne-Pirkis said she first learned to make Welsh rarebit with her grandparents so it brings back "nostalgic memories".The 43-year-old, from Cardiff, said it was a great first dish to learn as it's "more complicated than cheese on toast" but not too Lyne-Pirkis said she has two versions - a rich, roux-based recipe with cheddar, beer, mustard and Worcestershire sauce and a quicker one mixing egg, cheese, and seasoning to spread on toast. The dish stayed with her through her university years and is now a favourite with her children."I fell in love with the flavour," she said."When I eat it I get the nostalgic childhood feeling as I have so many fond memories of eating it. That's where my love of food came from."Whatever the roots, Ms Lyne-Pirkis said rarebit was now a timeless, adaptable national dish rooted in family stories and experimentation."Every recipe has its own story, which helps keep the recipe alive."
The Guardian
7 days ago
- Health
- The Guardian
Fresh produce made bold with pantry staples: two recipes to spice up winter
Looking for a recipe that warms the body and soul, or one with knockout flavours you can pull together midweek? Cookbook author, food writer and chef Lara Lee insists you don't have to choose. 'My food philosophy is: lean into the time you have,' Lee says. 'If you have a weekend, then make the soul food that brings you joy, and if you have a window of 30 minutes, you can still make an amazing meal.' Either way, Lee's hot tip is to spice up fresh produce with condiments. 'Cooking doesn't have to be overly complicated, and it helps to have a well-stocked pantry,' she says. 'There are certain staples, like soy sauce, rice vinegar, miso paste or chilli oil – accessible ingredients you can pick up at your local IGA – that transport fresh ingredients.' There aren't many people who need convincing that lasagne is one of the greatest dishes, but many of us do need a little extra encouragement to get this labour of love on the table. These thoughts motivated Lee to reinvent this much-loved classic. 'I was thinking that kimchi and cheese is an incredible pairing; it's so comforting and mouthwatering,' Lee says. 'So, I got inspired by the idea that kimchi lasagne is going to do some breathtaking things.' The proof is in the oozy umami decadence. 'It's the kind of dish that people will talk about for months after,' Lee says. At the other end of the culinary continuum, Lee uses pork mince, instant noodles and an aromatic sauce lifted with orange zest to deliver quick, flavour-packed results. 'I'm a huge fan of pork mince,' she says. 'To me, pork is life! It has so much flavour. Combine it with noodles and the bold, punchy sauce, and you've got a dish with real depth and complexity, ready in just 15 minutes.' Whatever time you've got, Lara Lee's recipes promise home-cooked comfort this winter, with a kick. Photo supplied. Prep 20 minCook 30 minServes 8-10 people Ingredients For the kimchi sauce 1 tbsp olive oil 250g lean beef mince 6 garlic cloves, peeled and minced 450ml tomato passata 1 tbsp fish sauce 600g kimchi, roughly chopped¼ tsp fine salt ¼ tsp ground white pepper For the bechamel sauce 2½ cups whole milk 70g unsalted butter 6 anchovies ½ cup plain flour 2 tbsp gochujang 200g cheddar cheese, grated3 spring onions, thinly sliced, plus extra for garnish¼ tsp fine salt 6 fresh lasagne sheets 100g parmesan cheese, grated Photo supplied. Method Preheat the oven to 220C fan. To make the kimchi sauce, heat the oil in a large frying pan on a medium-high heat. Add the beef mince and cook until browned, stirring regularly, for four to five minutes. Add the garlic and cook for a further minute, stirring to combine. Stir in the passata and fish sauce, then cook for two to three minutes until slightly thickened. Add the kimchi to the pan and cook for two minutes, stirring to combine. Season with the salt and white pepper, then remove from the heat. To make the bechamel, warm the milk in a medium saucepan on a medium-low heat until just warmed through, then remove and set aside. Wipe the pan, then add the butter and anchovies on a medium-low heat. Lightly mash the anchovies with a wooden spoon as they melt with the butter, stirring for one to two minutes. Add the flour and mix for one minute, until fully incorporated. Add half a cup of the milk and stir vigorously, using the back of the wooden spoon against the side of the pot to smooth out any lumps. Once all lumps are removed, add the remaining milk, stirring continuously as you pour. Increase the heat to medium, stirring occasionally until it thickens, about six to eight minutes. Add the gochujang and stir for one minute, then remove from the heat. Add the cheese, spring onions, and salt, stirring until the cheese melts, which takes about one minute. In a 20cm x 30cm baking dish, spread one cup of kimchi sauce over the base. Evenly top with two fresh lasagne sheets; it's OK if they overlap. Spread the sheets with 1½ cups of kimchi sauce, then cover the kimchi layer with one cup of bechamel sauce. Add two more lasagne sheets on top, then spoon over the remaining kimchi sauce and one cup of bechamel sauce. Layer the remaining lasagne sheets on top. Finally, cover the sheets with the remaining bechamel sauce and sprinkle generously with parmesan cheese. Place the lasagna in the oven and bake it uncovered for 30 minutes, until the cheese is browned and the sauce is bubbling. Remove from the oven and cool for at least 10 minutes to allow the lasagne to set. Sprinkle over the remaining spring onions to garnish. Use a sharp knife to cut the lasagne and serve hot with a side salad or vegetables. Photo supplied. Prep 15 minCook 10 minServes 2 people Ingredients For the chilli crisp sauce 3 tbsp chilli crisp with the oil 1½ tbsp rice wine vinegar 1 tbsp soy sauce 1 tbsp white miso 1 tbsp tahini 1½ tsp sesame oil ½ tsp white sugar Zest of 1/4 medium-sized orange For the crispy pork 2 tbsp neutral oil, such as canola or peanut oil250g lean pork mince 2 garlic cloves, peeled and minced 2 tsp ginger, peeled and grated½ tsp fennel seeds ½ tsp ground cumin ½ tsp ground coriander 2 x 85g packets of instant noodles, such as Indomie or Maggi (noodles only; save the flavour sachet for another use) Small handful of coriander leaves Small handful of crispy fried shallots Photo supplied. Method In a medium bowl, combine all ingredients for the chilli crisp sauce and stir well. Set aside. Bring a medium saucepan of salted water to the boil. Heat a medium frying pan over high heat with the oil. Once hot, add the pork mince and cook until it begins to turn golden brown, stirring regularly for five to six minutes. Reduce the heat to medium and add the garlic, ginger, fennel seeds, ground cumin and ground coriander. Cook until fragrant, stirring often for one to two minutes. Remove from the heat. Add the instant noodles to the boiling water and cook according to the packet instructions. Drain, reserving a little of the cooking water. Divide the chilli crisp sauce and crispy pork between two serving bowls, then add one tablespoon of noodle water to each bowl. Divide the noodles between the two serving bowls. Just before serving, mix well to combine, and garnish with the coriander leaves and crispy shallots. Shop for fresh, seasonal ingredients at your local IGA. IGA is the Australian launch partner for the Guardian's cooking and recipe app, Feast. Download Feast on the App store for Apple iOS or Google Play for Android to follow each of these recipes step by step.
The Guardian
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Lamb with beans, and rum baba: Claude Bosi's recipes for a French early summer feast
There's a reason classic French bistros will never go out of fashion, and that's because they serve food that, deep down, we really want to eat. Think the comforting familiarity of terrine and steak tartare, of onion soup and moules-frîtes, the sheer pleasure that is a proper Paris-Brest or tarte tatin … In my home town of Lyon, we've even developed our own local take on the bistro in the form of the bouchon, to showcase and preserve the region's culinary traditions. Bistro, bouchon, brasserie: whatever you call it, this is, above all else, good, honest cooking, rustic rather than show-offy, and it's made to share around a noisy table, whether that's in a restaurant or in the comfort of your own home. Yes, there's a fair amount of soaking, curing and marinading going on here, but it's all well worth the effort – plus none of it requires much in the way of actual hands-on work, anyway. Prep 20 min Soak 24 hrCure 6 hrMarinate 12 hrCook 5 hr 30 min+ Serves 4 For the lamb1.2-1½kg bone-in lamb shoulder100g table salt1-1½ tsp rosemary leaves1-1½ tsp thyme leaves1 tsp finely chopped garlicVegetable oil, for searing4 cloves new season garlic, peeled, cut in half and germs removedAbout 1 litre lamb stock For the marinade50ml extra-virgin olive oil ½ tsp espelette pepper ½ tsp paprika 50ml vegetable oil For the beans 250g dried flageolet beans 50g finely chopped shallot (about 6 tbsp)50g finely chopped celery (about 3-4 tbsp) 10g finely chopped garlic (about 2 cloves) 8-10 bay leaves (5g)2-3 tsp thyme leaves (5g)1 litre chicken stock Salt Soak the dried beans in cold water for 24 hours. Meanwhile, put the lamb shoulder in a suitable dish in which it fits snugly, rub all over with the salt, rosemary, thyme and chopped garlic, then cover, refrigerate and leave to cure for six hours. Wash the cured lamb, then dry well with a clean tea towel or kitchen cloth. Heat a little vegetable oil in a large, heavy-based frying pan or casserole, then sear the lamb shoulder until well coloured all over. Make eight deep cuts all over the seared lamb and push the halved new-season garlic cloves into the slits. Put the lamb back in the same dish, add all the ingredients for the marinade, toss to coat, then cover again, return to the fridge and leave to marinate for 12 hours. Put the lamb and all its marinade in a large, cast-iron pot for which you have a lid, then pour in enough lamb stock to come halfway up the sides of the meat. Cover the pot and roast in a very low oven – 140C (120C fan)/300F/gas 1 – for five to six hours, until the lamb is very tender and all but falling off the bone. Take out of the oven and turn up the heat to 180C (160C fan)/350F/gas 4. Baste the lamb in the pan juices until it's well coated, then return to the oven uncovered for another 15 minutes, basting regularly with the pan juices, until the liquid reduces and the lamb is nicely browned and glazed. After the lamb has been cooking for three to three and a half hours, drain the soaked beans and put them in an oven tray (ideally one for which you have a lid). Add the shallot, celery, garlic, bay and thyme, pour over the chicken stock, cover the tray (either with a lid or a thick double layer of foil) and bake alongside the lamb for 90 minutes. After the beans have had 45 minutes, season with salt, stir and finish off cooking. Just before serving, adjust the seasoning to taste. Spoon the cooked beans on to a big platter and top with the lamb, either carved or whole to be carved at the table. Spoon over a generous amount of the cooking juices, take to the table and serve. A few new season carrots and/or some cabbage on the side wouldn't go amiss, either. At the restaurant, we make our babas in large traditional kugelhopf moulds, but at home you could also make individual ones in a six- or eight-hole muffin tin. Prep 10 minProve 1 hr Cook 2 hr 15 minServes 10 For the quick marmalade2 large oranges 200g caster sugar30g lemon juice For the rum syrup750g caster sugar 375ml dark rum For the chantilly100ml double cream 100ml whipping cream 1 vanilla pod, split lengthways and seeds scraped out and reserved 40g caster sugar For the baba7g fast-action yeast, or 15g fresh yeast160g beaten egg (from about 3-4 eggs) 250g strong white bread flour 7g salt 20g sugar 50g unsalted butter, melted, plus extra softened butter for greasing For the orange and rum glaze200g orange marmalade (see above and method) 30ml dark rum First make the quick marmalade. Using a small, sharp knife or peeler, peel the oranges, taking care not to take off too much of the white pith, then cut the skin into fine julienne strips. Pare off and discard the pith from the oranges, then segment the orange flesh. Put the peel in a small saucepan of water, bring to a boil, then fine-strain. Return the peel to the pan, cover with fresh water and repeat the process twice more. After the third strain, put the orange peel back in the pan, add the orange segments, sugar and 420ml cold water, and bring to a boil. Turn down to a simmer, and leave to cook for about 45 minutes, until thick, sticky and jammy. Take off the heat, stir in the lemon juice and leave to cool. Now for the glaze. Once the marmalade is cool, measure 200g of the cooled marmalade into a small pan, add the rum and bring to a simmer. Strain to remove the solids, then set aside. Put all the ingredients for the chantilly cream in a clean bowl, whisk to soft peaks, then cover and refrigerate until needed. Now for the baba itself. Heat 90ml water to 28C (just above room temperature), then stir in the yeast. In a mixer fitted with a whisk attachment or with a hand whisk, beat the egg with the flour, salt and sugar, then beat in the yeast mixuntil well combined. Swap the whisk for the dough hook (or a wooden spoon) and mix on medium speed for five minutes, or until the dough comes together and starts to get stretchy. Slowly incorporate the melted butter, and mix until the dough is smooth. Grease a 24cm kugelhopf tin (or a six- or eight-hole muffin tin) with softened butter, scrape in the baba mix, cover with a damp cloth or clingfilm, and leave to prove at room temperature for an hour, or until it's risen to 2cm from the top of mould. Heat the oven to 190C (170C fan)/375F/gas 5, then bake for about 40 minutes (or for eight to 10 minutes if making baby babas), until nicely browned and a toothpick inserted into the centre comes out clean. Remove from the oven, unmould at once on to a rack, then leave to cool for 10 minutes. While the baba is baking, make the syrup. Put the sugar and rum in a medium saucepan with 750ml water, bring to a simmer, then leave to cool to lukewarm (40C). Slowly pour syrup all over the baba, letting it soak in first before adding any more, until it's fully soaked all the way through, then put on a rack to cool. Once the baba is completely cool, brush it all over with the orange and rum glaze, then slice and serve with the chantilly cream. Claude Bosi is chef/patron of Joséphine, Brooklands at the Peninsula and Bibendum, all in London.
Yahoo
31-05-2025
- Health
- Yahoo
Old-school comfort with a modern twist: Salmon croquettes make a savory comeback
The other day, I decided to revert to a childhood favorite for dinner. Salmon croquettes were a monthly staple that is so old school it's hip again. My Grandmother made them regularly for our evening meal and if we were lucky, there was a leftover or two for lunch the following day. Traditionally, croquettes were much fancier than we used to enjoy. By the simplest definition, it is a savory mixture of finely minced meat and some vegetables shaped into balls or cylinders and fried. That part is identical to ours except for the shape. However, the binder that held that mixture together was most often a thick version of bechamel sauce. That's where my Southern road forks, because we used either dry breadcrumbs or crushed saltine crackers and an egg. Of course, it was fried in bacon fat back in the day, but these days, I'm most likely to use the air fryer or skillet, with just a light coating of canola oil. It's enough to make the biggest skeptic salivate. Although we called them croquettes, ours were patties because they were flattened like burgers. I still do it that way and occasionally make them as burger substitutes served on small Hawaiian buns. Salmon has come a long way from the large red cans that used to contain bits and pieces of skin and bones. Those large cans have given way to smaller 5-ounce cans. Although it may still occasionally contain a small pin bone, the high temperature of the canning process makes it soft and edible. Just like tuna, canned salmon is fully cooked, but that doesn't mean it can't be fancied up by mixing and making it into a patty. I like serving it with some fresh dill and black pepper-enhanced Greek yogurt. Kiki asks, 'For some reason, I routinely end up with too much fat in my gravy. Is there any easy way to remove some before I serve it?' Kiki, If you have time, allow the gravy to cool and skim off the fat that forms on the top. Then reheat. If you don't have time, pour it through a sieve that contains ice cubes. The fat will cling to the ice cubes and solidify, making it easy to remove. Tammy Algood is the author of five cookbooks and can be seen on 'Volunteer Gardener' on PBS stations in Tennessee. Follow her at This article originally appeared on Southern Kitchen: Salmon croquettes make a comeback with a modern southern twist
Globe and Mail
22-05-2025
- Business
- Globe and Mail
The chef behind Edmonton's Bernadette's is trying to change the perception of Indigenous cuisine
The sounds are familiar: metal against metal, something soft being portioned or pressed, a container shifting on a counter. Unsurprisingly, Scott Iserhoff, chef and co-owner of the Edmonton-based Bernadette's, is cooking as he answers questions, the clinks and clangs of food prep evident, even over the phone. That atmosphere, he explains, is part of the point. Bernadette's might wear the suit and tie of fine dining, but underneath, 'it's like being at your grandmother's house,' says Iserhoff's business partner Svitlana Kravchuk. It's food that knows where it came from. 'We're not cooking fancy food here,' adds Iserhoff. 'We're cooking approachable food. It has story, there's comfort in it. A lot of the dishes I cook are memories of my childhood.' Bernadette's seats up to thirty when you include the patio – intimate, without being exclusive. While it's tucked into a strip of downtown Edmonton that doesn't shout for your attention, in just over a year, it's become a restaurant to attend, longlisted as one of the country's best restaurants by enRoute, praised by critics, whispered about by people seeking a culturally different experience. Opened in May 2024 and named after Iserhoff's grandmother, it's the first sit-down spot from Pei Pei Chei Ow Inc., a venture by Iserhoff, who is Mushkego Cree from Attawapiskat, and Kravchuk, who is Ukrainian. The duo had already built momentum through catering and takeout. Their official site describes the food as 'seasonal, traditional, political,' with Iserhoff leading the kitchen and Kravchuk running the business like a home. Still, if you walk in expecting just familiar staples like bannock burgers and Indian tacos, you'll miss the point entirely. 'People expect native tacos, fry bread... and sure, those are part of it,' Iserhoff says. 'But they're not everything. It's all Indigenous, but [those expectations are] also limiting.' This sentiment is echoed by Iserhoff's peers, including Chef Brad Lazarenko, a member of the Métis Nation of Alberta and founder of the Culina Family of Restaurants. 'Most people who interview me already have this romanticized idea of Indigenous food – like we all grew up on the land, hunting, gathering, foraging. That's just not the case,' he says. 'People don't differentiate between pre-colonial and post-colonial food traditions. There's a huge gap between what Indigenous people were eating before colonization and what we're eating after.' That friction between tradition and modernism shows up at Bernadette's, too – and not just in the food. Take the décor, for example: It's not lodgecore. Thanks to abundant colour and a berry mural by Kayla Bellerose, a Cree-Métis artist from Slave Lake, the space reads downtown-chic but feels like home, where servers look like the aunties, cousins, and grandmothers they are. 'A lot of people come in and say, 'This is Indigenous?'' Iserhoff says. 'They don't get it. But it doesn't matter. We're doing what we're doing and telling a story on the plate.' For him, that story starts with memory. Fishing with his dad on the riverbank, or watching his grandfather snare rabbits. 'When I make halibut with a little butter sauce and fish eggs, it's my version of that memory,' he explains. 'It's not about being fancy. It's about the feeling. The connection.' But memory doesn't make a dish political. Constraints do. 'We can't serve moose meat, even though that's what I grew up with,' Iserhoff says with a humour that cuts through. 'So we use farmed rabbit. It's $60 for one.' The point being: food sovereignty isn't free. Federal laws ban the sale of wild game, forcing chefs like Iserhoff to work around the very ingredients that shaped their approach to cooking. 'Everything that grows here grows on Indigenous land,' he says. 'But that doesn't mean we can access it.' Kravchuk adds that the challenge is also navigating a Western framework that shapes how Indigenous food is perceived. 'Scott is Indigenous, and I'm from Boyarka, Ukraine. The hoops we had to jump through, like any marginalized business, are way more than what others in the industry face.' In other words, it's a mix of what guests never knew they needed and the traditions that always require unpacking. For example, Kravchuk points out how often guests can misunderstand Indigenous cuisine: 'When people say, 'Oh, this is like carpaccio,' I try to explain the connection – not Italian carpaccio, but more like caribou shared by an Inuk woman during winter,' she says. 'Or they doubt traditional ingredients like octopus, forgetting this land is surrounded by ocean.' In that way, Bernadette's is a quiet celebration of heritage, representation, and care that feels like home, or someone else's. For that reason, its status as Edmonton's first Indigenous fine dining restaurant in 2025 is as sobering as it is significant. 'To be honest…it's bittersweet,' says Kravchuk. 'It's amazing, but it's 2025. This shouldn't have to be a milestone. But it is – because of colonization, because of structural barriers.' Still, she's clear: 'We're proud of what we're doing, proud of our team, and grateful for the community we've built.' Iserhoff agrees. 'Seeing Indigenous youth come in and light up... when they see staff who look like them. It's priceless. Some try the full experience and say, 'This reminds me of feast food' or 'ceremony food.' Food cooked with intention.' 'There aren't many Indigenous restaurants doing what we're doing,' he adds. 'Places like Owamni in Minnesota or [people like] Zach Keeshig in Ontario are doing amazing work with pre-colonial ingredients. But we need more. Because Indigenous people aren't a monolith. We don't all eat the same, even within our own communities.' One in a regular series of stories. To read more, visit our Indigenous Enterprises section. If you have suggestions for future stories, reach out to IE@
