Mediterranean Aubergine Salad

Aubergine – also known as Eggplant – is a gorgeous vegetable.

Now, I am most likely biased, because I love all things purple, and aubergines are an amazing deep dark shade of it, but you have got to agree that the deep color and gloss make them stand out among vegetables like a silk evening dress among T-shirts and jeans.

Of course, if color was the only thing going for it, it’d never have become one of my favorite things to eat, regardless of what is said about how people eat with their eyes.  It’s not true – we don’t eat with our eyes.  We taste with them and decide to take the next step, true – but eating is done with the mouth (and a good thing, too).

In any case, other than its beautiful color and surface, aubergines have the benefits of being wonderfully delicious, good for low-GI diets, and very filling.  The above, along with its wonderful eating quality, fiber content and how well it takes dry preparation, all make it rather perfect for use in any generic LCHF diet.

The problem – not insurmountable one, mind you – is that if cooked improperly, aubergines (like many other vegetables) turn to awful mush and can sometimes have a bitter aftertaste.  The up side is that this undesirable result is very easy to avoid.

The preparation routine for aubergine, whether you plan to grill it, fry it, or bake it into gratin, must start 30-60 min before you actually do the hot part of the cooking.  What you do is wash and dry the aubergine, slice it crosswise or lengthwise (whatever your recipe calls for), rub or sprinkle it with a small amount of salt and rest on a plate to drain the excess water for about an hour, but at minimum 30 minutes.  Before frying or grilling or assembling the gratin, take a bit of kitchen paper towel and wipe or blot each slice on both sides, then pop the aubergines into pan, oven or onto grill pan, and there you go.  The draining of juice and subsequent wiping not only makes the aubergine crisper and lighter, but also eliminates any possible bitter aftertaste from it, like magic.

One of my favorite ways to eat aubergine is as a lunch salad, the way I’ve had it many many times back in Israel.  The recipe for it is more a set of loose instructions than a recipe, but here it is – such as it is.

Serves 2 hungry people for lunch (or for dinner with a protein portion of some sort).

For dressing:

• Juice of 1/2 lemon
• 2-4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper – to taste
• 1-3 cloves of garlic

For salad itself:

•  1 medium aubergine – sliced crosswise, salted, drained for an hour and patted dry with paper towel
• 2 large handfuls of arugula (rucola)
• 1 red or orange or yellow bell pepper (paprika), deseeded and sliced into bite-sized pieces or thin slivers
• 1-2 ripe tomatoes, chopped
• 10cm of cucumber, sliced
• 3 tablespoons of finely grated parmesan, or other hard cheese
• Some chopped parsley or fresh thyme

What to do:

• Place arugula in the salad bowl.
• Add chopped and sliced vegetables.
• Preheat a non-stick frying pan and add a little bit of canola or peanut oil.
• Fry the aubergine in batches, in a single layer without crowding the pan, flipping once or twice throughout the process, until a little colored on both sides.  Place cooked aubergines into the salad bowl as you go.
• When aubergines are all done, mix the dressing.  If you are not worried about smell of garlic, press the garlic fresh into the lemon juice, add salt, pepper and olive oil, and whisk to mix, then pour over the salad and toss to combine.
• If you do not want to smell of garlic so much, slice the garlic cloves thinly and heat up the olive oil in the pan which you cooked the aubergines in.  Fry the garlic in the olive oil on medium heat until fragrant and just beginning to color at the edges, then add the hot oil with garlic to the salad bowl, pour the lemon juice over it, season with salt and pepper, and toss to combine.
• Sprinkle with chopped parsley or thyme and cheese, and you are ready.

Serve with a slice of crusty bread or a warmed up pitta bread – or on its own for a light and low-GI lunch.

Sourdough Experiment Continued – Rye Blend Edition

Since my Sourdough Experiment posts last month, I have spent some time reading about sourdough, and also practicing baking with it.

Part-rye retard-fermented sourdough loaf

The results have been wonderful, and I have found out a lot of very interesting things about sourdough – the chief one among them being that once you get how it works, sourdough bread-baking is not difficult at all, and is actually quite easy to schedule.  The long fermenting times, whether in refrigerator or out, work wonderfully well overnight, which means you do not need to be at home during the day for it to work.  But, I am getting ahead of myself.

One of the first questions I encountered while growing my starter was – is an acetone (“paint thinner” or “cheap nail polish remove”) smell from the starter all right, or is it a sign of something wrong?  I mean, acetone does not exactly smell great, and it is a poison, so it is hard not to wonder if you are doing something terribly wrong and are about to poison yourself and your loved ones.  Searching the net has at first netted me a load of “expert advice” that it’s wrong, bad and it means I should throw my starter away.  Why didn’t I?  Well, this brings us to my friend Sylwia, who comes from Poland, and who is an Nth-generation traditional sourdough home baker, and her words to me, as she handed me a well-travelled Polish starter piece were: “… and you make sure it has a good whiff of acetone, means it is alive, and then proceed…”  So, on I went researching and apparently, those experts who said to throw things away were about as expert as the ones which recommend starting your sourdough starter with commercial yeast – i.e. didn’t know how to find their behind with two hands and a flashlight.  The acetone smell is normal to sourdough starter that hasn’t been fed in the last 12 hours, and it is not actually acetone at all – it is ethyl acetate, which is harmless and produced by the acetic acid bacterial strains normally present in sourdough.  So therefore, my advice is – unless the starter is full of liquid that’s separated, stinks to high heaven, or is turning weird colours, and as long as it rises happily if you take a bit of it and feed it in a clean jar, it’s just fine.

Another interesting discovery I have made is that not all starters produce same-flavoured bread.  As I have mentioned above, my friend Sylwia has brought me a sample of her starter, which according to her has changed hands at least 5 times so far that she knows of (I get to be the at-least-6th proud keeper!).  According to her, the tradition in the part of Poland she comes from (near Warsaw) is that upon moving out on your own, your first sourdough starter should come from a piece given to you by a neighbour.  I guess in my case, one given by a friend counts as well, and now I maintain two retention-sample jars in my fridge, one jar of Sylwia’s Polish-heirloom one, and another of my homegrown Swedish yeast cultivated from local wheat here in Stockholm.  The last bread I’d made was a wheat loaf baked in a pan with a newly-located 12% protein flour and a tablespoon of caraway seeds per 3.5 cup flour batch of dough.  It was the best bread I have ever baked, and one of the finest I’d eaten, and now I am experimenting to see what it was that contributed to it being so wonderful – the pan baking, the caraway or the Polish starter.  I would guess it was a combination of all three, but I do plan to try to combine the factors differently to see which one makes the most impact/difference.  Control group in experimentation is very important!  ;)

As to the bread in the photos, it is a 30% wholemeal rye (finely ground rye flour has been used for better texture) with caraway seeds, which I have done in a single rise with an overnight fridge retardation to extend fermentation time.  Wheat-fed sourdough starter (my own Swedish one) has been used.  This bread was meant to be baked for a Saturday dinner, but I got forgetful and did not feed my yeast until the morning, which meant no sourdough on the day.  As a result, I did not start the sourdough until Sunday daytime, and baked it today (Monday) at mid-morning.  The approximate recipe and instructions follow – you can skip the forgetting and messing up your schedule bits, it works fine without them!

The basic point about scheduling a single-rise sourdough is this -  you need about 12-24 hours for it to rise after the initial knead, rest, knead and shape.

You can start the dough either in the morning, to be raised at room temperature and baked late in evening, or to be put in fridge and baked the next morning.  Or you can start it in evening, stick it in fridge overnight and bake it towards lunchtime the next day after letting it come to room temperature.  Or you can start it in the evening and leave it to rise out of the fridge overnight (provided your weather is not too tropical), and bake it first thing the next morning.  Sourdough is flexible, and since the proofing does not happen too fast, it is not as if missing an hour or two with this will make anything too catastrophic, and certainly not if the dough is left in the refrigerator (what is called a retarded, or cold fermentation – and, as the name implies, is slow and therefore rather controlled).

Double-rise sourdoughs are a little more complex to schedule, and I will be trying them in the future, but in the meantime this works fantastically well (and easily!) for me.

What you need:

• Time:  12 hours to refresh starter, 12-24 hours to ferment, 40 min to preheat oven, 45 min to bake, 1 hour to let cool.
• Optional hand or standing mixer.  I use a hand mixer with dough hooks attachment on low speed.  I imagine that a paddle attachment on a standing mixer (those who own one would know how to set it up), or simple wooden spoon and hand kneading will also work just fine.
• Sourdough starter, fed (refreshed from fridge) at a ratio of 1:2:3 by volume (1 – starter, 2 – water, 3 – flour) in a clean jar.  I used 2 level tablespoons of starter to start with, which makes for 4 tablespoons of water and 6 (level!) tablespoons of flour approximately.
• Other ingredients as follows:

Dough – Ingredients:

• The above starter (all except 2-3 tablespoons for refrigerating for the future bakes)
• 1.5 cup rye flour – I use wholemeal rye, finely ground
• 2 cups high-protein (12%) wheat flour
• 1.5 cups of water (not to be added all at the same time!)
• 1-1.5 teaspoon salt
• 1 tablespoon caraway seeds (if you like them, or fennel, or none at all)

Directions:

• Mix flours, seeds (if using), and salt in a large bowl.
• Add the starter to the bowl and begin mixing with a wooden spoon or dough hooks on handheld mixer (this is what I use, for lazyness’ sake).
• As the starter works into the flour, begin adding water very slowly bit by bit and mixing on lowest speed of mixer until the dough starts to come together.  This should make a fairly stiff dough.  Note: Flours vary in humidity and so does air, so if you are out of water and the dough is too dry, add water a teaspoon at a time and mix thoroughly after each addition.
• Remove dough to a lightly floured surface and knead a few times.  Mixer should have gotten gluten developed fairly well and this is just to smooth the dough.
• Pre-shape into a round by tucking ends under and stretching top of dough into a ball.
• Rest on floured surface and cover with lightly oiled cling film to avoid drying, and allow to rest for 30-45 minutes to relax.
• In meantime, prepare your baking parchment sheet or lightly grease and thoroughly flour a bread pan (whatever you are using).
• Come back to your dough, give it another short and gentle knead (a few seconds), and shape into a round or a loaf for the pan (as per above).
• Gently place onto parchment or into pan, cover with oiled cling film and allow to rise out of the fridge for a couple of hours.
• Wrap in a plastic bag (over the sheet or pan and the cling film), to avoid drying out.
• Place in the refrigerator overnight.
• In the morning, take the bread out of the refrigerator and remove bag – it should have risen to nearly double in bulk.
• Allow to come to room temperature/proof/rise for 1.5 hours or until doubled or more in bulk from original dough size.
• Preheat oven to 220°C.  Remove cling film and slash the loaf to avoid tearing (as you can see, my slashing still needs practice!).
• Set the bread in the middle of the oven, and throw a couple of ice cubes into the oven to create steam.
• Bake at 220°C for 15 minutes, adding 2-3 (small) ice cubes at a time when the last of the water is gone from the bottom of oven.
• Turn the oven down to 190°C and bake additional 20 minutes without ice cubes until bread is medium-brown in colour.
• Using oven mitts, remove bread from oven and from the pan (if using) and tap on the bottom.  It should sound hollow when ready.  (Bread can be returned to the oven without the pan to brown the bottom and finish baking a little if necessary – think 5-10 extra minutes with bottom heat only.)
• Cool on a rack for an hour, or as long as you can stand the smell without cutting/tearing/biting into it.

Proceed with the tearing, biting, etc. as you like!

Yup. Slashing definitely needs more work!

Crumb-Topped Mussels – Inspired By Oysters Rockefeller

I love seafood.

... with lemon thyme and garlic and butter and cheese and mmmm!!!

And for all that can be said of many other foods too, seafood – shellfish specifically – has a special, brightly worshipped place in my heart.  I love the briny sea-fresh smell of it, and the colors and shapes and the tender gristle-free flesh that ranges from sweet to spicy and all, all of which goes so amazingly with garlic or lemon or preferably both.

So, when I saw the absolutely beautiful giant New Zealand greenshell mussels at the local supermarket, I immediately grabbed a bag and shoved a few greedy handfuls in (they sell them by weight – how great is that?).  Having dragged my prize home and reverently placed it in the deep-freeze, I next contemplated a worthy use for such bounty.  No boring steam or poaching would do for these plump, juicy beautes:

New Zealand Greenshell Mussels - Thawed

Something better had to be done – and so I have turned to one of my restaurant favorites – oysters Rockefeller – for inspiration.  The best part of this style of cooking shellfish-on-a-shell is that it is ridiculously easy and the results are both, wonderful to eat and tend to look great on the plate (so this works fantastically well as a party appetizer, or an easy meal).

All I have done with these mussels is thaw and drain them (shake to get rid of excess water), lay onto a foiled baking dish, top with the crumb topping (recipe follows), and bake with top heat in a 225°C preheated oven for 10 minutes or until topping is softened and browned on top.

Oh, and eat, obviously!

Crumb Topping for seafood-on-the-shell:  (tops 10 large mussels)

(I imagine this will go fabulously with oysters, or with scallops as well as the mussels.)

• 10-15 short sprigs of thyme (I just gave a small haircut to my lemon thyme bush that lives on the windowsill)
• 2-5 cloves of garlic (depending on size of cloves and your love of garlic)
• a pinch of red chili flakes (because I love those)
• 1/2 teaspoon fine salt
• 3 tablespoons butter (cold, cut into small pieces)
• 2 tablespoons dried grated parmesan or other hard cheese – I used a good handful of home-freeze-dried grated cheese
• 2 tablespoons (preferably wholegrain) bread crumbs (I realized I did not have any, and tossed in a couple of broken-up pieces of Finn Crisp instead)

Note:  a teaspoon of brandy, anise-scented liqueur, or white wine would not do the sauce any harm – and perhaps some good. And as usual, since this is my improvisation, I’d say it is by no means set in stone.  Adjust, modify seasonings, whatever you like – it’s to your heart’s content you are cooking, not mine!

How-To:

• Toss garlic, chili flakes, thyme and salt into a mini-chopper and process until chopped finely
• Add cheese and pulse to mix, then add butter and pulse to crumb size.
• Add breadcrumbs and process until mixture comes together to a butter consistency (spreadable with a butter knife).
• Top seafood by placing pats of mixture over the meat.

Bake and serve with a green salad and some buttered bread.  I’d add a glass of a fresh white wine (a nice Chardonnay or Pinot Grigio) to this, if it weren’t a workday lunch.  Barring that, my drink of choice today was Japanese green tea – Sencha, the seaweed-scented one.  And there you go, gourmet lunch in all of 20 minutes of effort!

For Hangovers And Otherwise – Baked Artichoke Dip

Although March is here,  and it is technically (or at least according to the theoretical calendar) a spring month, the snow outside remains untouched by melt (or not enough to matter, and it all froze up last night again anyway!), and so my mood for warm winter food continues – in the next instance with an utterly fantastic American-Italian dish of somewhat murky origins:  Artichoke Dip.

- presented in my new favorite Chasseur mini-cocottes

The reason I call its origins murky is because although the ingredients used are very traditionally Italian, I have only ever encountered this dish in the United States, and in all my searches I have only ever seen it categorized under “American Food” (which incidentally confirms my understanding of where it comes from).  However, if you know better, please do feel free to correct me.  In any case, to me, artichoke dip is American food done right, rather than the general European view of American food as = McDonalds, which I, incidentally, don’t even consider food short of a state of biological starvation.  In which case it’s a toss-up between that and finding some possibly edible reed roots to gnaw.

This, however, is no McDonalds and no tough roots, and is in fact wonderfully delicious, despite this particular version being vegetarian – a fault easily remedied by adding crumbled bacon or some cooked and chopped prawns, crabmeat or crab sticks to the mix.  It can also work great with some spinach – just thaw some chopped spinach, squeeze the water out, and toss in along with artichokes.  On top of being lovely on any other occasion, this is amazing after having had a bit to drink the day before – and one doesn’t really  need the excuse of a real hangover (neither T nor I had one after last weekend’s parties) to have an excuse to make a stomach-settling hangover, excuse me, Sunday brunch.

In addition to being good to eat, and very, very easy to make, this has the benefit of being very low in carbohydrates and high in fibre (for a dip), and therefore also of negligibly low GI index (for those concerned), and suitable for diabetics.  In fact, I am surprised this isn’t more popular in Europe.  It should be.  It certainly is with me (T tends to make happy-male noises whenever I make it, and then puts it away with a heartwarming gusto).

So, what gives?

• 1 standard sized can of artichoke hearts in water – drained and with the water squeezed out
• ~ 2dl Turkish yogurt (the 10% fat version).  Greek may be substituted.
• 2 cups (3-4dl) loosely packed (not compacted) shredded cheese – I use a mix of whatever is in the fridge and parmesan in a proportion of 3 : 1
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 3-5 large garlic cloves (For me – you can use less.  Or more, if you are brave.)
• ~ 20g (a few small pats) of butter, salted or unsalted does not matter here
• 1 chili pepper, seeded (unless green in which case I don’t bother beyond washing and cutting tail off)
• 1 teaspoon dried or 1 tablespoon dried oregano or thyme, or 1 teaspoon Herbes de Provence mix
• Freshly ground black pepper to taste

How to:

• Preheat oven to 175-180°C.
• Put garlic, salt and chili in the food processor.  Blitz until finely minced.
• Add artichokes (half if using a mini-chopper, all if yours is large), blitz till chopped.  Flop into bowl.  Repeat with remaining artichokes if using the mini-chopper.
• Add yogurt, oregano (or other dried or fresh herbs) and black pepper.  Mix thoroughly.
• Add 2/3 of the cheese.  Mix until combined.  The mixture should now resemble grey-green lumpy thick batter (rather unattractive to be honest)
• Place a small piece of butter into each individual casserole or several around the bottom of a larger baking dish.
• Spoon the dip out into whatever you want to bake it in (on top of said butter) and top with remaining cheese.
• Bake in preheated oven for about 25 minutes or until the dip is melted together and the cheese on top is browned.

Can be served with crudites, corn chips, toasted bread pieces, or just a fork.  I like the fork.  It, along with a personal cocotte (so that I don’t have to – gods forbid! – share), is my ultimate way to greedily devour this.  Curled up on sofa with a throw in my lap and a glass of moderately dry white wine.  Yes.

Black And White Bean Chili Con Carne With Three Kinds of Chili Pepper

- reheated in oven with cheese browned under broiler

I have always believed (and still do) that no food is as satisfying in really, really cold weather, as a stew.  And when the Swedish February forcefully reminded us that it is still well and truly winter with temperatures plunging below -10°C and half a metre of (newly fallen) snow on the ground, it seemed like the perfect excuse (should I have needed one) to make chili – and this one, stripped down to basics and allowed to cook slowly on even, low heat, is infinitely warming and satisfying when outside the windows, snow keeps falling in large, pretty clumps… horizontally.  Or as close to horizontal as nevermind.

First of all, to me, chili con carne, is essentially – or at least according to the Texans who claim the dish as their own – with some argument from other American locales in which I will not take sides – a stew of beef, onions and chili peppers, and whatever else the chef in question wants it to be.  Hence the prevalence of chili preparations with or without beans, with or without tomato, etc.  I take that as freedom to interpret the chili as a stew within the guideline stated above, with or without whatever else seems to go with it on hand.  Though, since I like beans, those usually do make an appearance.

Secondly, of beans.  I should, and will, write a longer entry about legumes and the virtues as well as cooking thereof, but in short – I love eating beans, I do not love flatulence.  Neither does anyone I am acquainted with.  Thankfully, that is a problem easily avoided – I do not use canned beans if I can help it.  Beans that are canned, while generally fine to eat, are not soaked long enough, and not cooked in enough water, and so retain their natural oligosaccharides (the stuff which causes gastric upset due to being indigestible by us – but happily digestible by our intestinal flora).  Oligosaccharides are soluble in water, and so dry beans (which are also cheaper to buy) can be prepared at home with fairly minimal effort to avoid this problem.  The key is – soak the beans for at least 12 hours in cold water in the fridge, then rinse, bring to boil, drain (can be repeated once more if you are bored), add boiling water from kettle and cook (unsalted) till tender (after the long soaking, usually far less than an hour, unlike whatever the packages say).

Thirdly, I do not use thickeners in my stews and soups.  It is a matter of both principle and taste – I don’t like adding unnecessary white flour (high-GI carbohydrate) to my food, and I feel that when cooked at home and with proper ingredients, no stew will require further thickener than will naturally be present from its own ingredients.  I am in no hurry to join in the ranks of the diabetes II sufferers, nor would I encourage anyone else in that direction.

With the above in mind, chili with beans is actually a wonderfully healthy dish, and while not devoid of carbohydrates (present in beans and onions, and tomatoes if you use those), it is very rich in dietary fibre (from beans), protein and a variety of other nutrients (the exact composition of which depends on what you put in it, obviously).

The above chili is without tomatoes, mostly because I have wanted to see the pretty black and white-turned-pink beans in all their glory.  That, and though I often cook chili with tomatoes, I wanted to see just how much flavor I could coax out of the meat and chili peppers on their own, without the overpowering cannon of tomato, and the boxed complexity of prepared chili powder.  The result, especially after a day in the fridge, was overwhelmingly wonderful, and proclaimed by T to have been the best chili he’s ever had (hard compliment to top, but I will try to in the future!).  I wouldn’t argue with him, of course – heated in little clay casseroles in the oven and then topped with cheese and browned under the broiler/grill element it did indeed taste fantastic.  And, while somewhat time-consuming, it was not even that difficult to make – and most of the time very little effort is required other than the occasional check on the liquid level.

What you need:

• Large (preferably cast-iron) shallow stovetop-safe casserole with a lid.
• 500g-1kg stew meat sliced into 5mm thick pieces across the grain (I bought a box of good-looking cut-up stew beef and cut it up further)
• 100-250g streaky bacon (or any other bacon), cubed or, if rashers, then sliced thinly.  I use salt pork belly and cube it.
• 1-2 large cayenne chili peppers (commonly sold as just red chili)
• 4-5 green jalapeño peppers
• 1 teaspoon bird’s eye or any red chili flakes (less if you are afraid of scovilles!)
• 4-6 large garlic cloves (peeled)
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• 2-3 teaspoons dried oregano
• 1 tablespoon ground coriander seed
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin (optional)
• 1 cup each black and white beans (rinsed, soaked overnight, cooked as per above instruction, and drained)
• 2 large or 3 smaller yellow onions (peeled and chopped into 1x1cm pieces)
• 2 tablespoons of bacon grease or butter
• Canola (Rapeseed) oil as needed (this will depend on the fattiness of your beef, but don’t skimp on it)
• 500ml chicken or beef stock + boiling water as needed
• 2 large bay leaves
• 1/2 glass dry white wine
• Shredded cheese of your choice, sour cream or turkish yogurt (10% fat), and chopped coriander leaves (to serve)

How to do it:

• Preheat bacon grease or butter with a bit of rapeseed oil in your casserole dish on medium heat.
• Add chopped onions and cook on medium heat until beginning to turn golden and edges caramelise.
• While onions cook, seed the cayennes and cut tails off jalapenos (I don’t bother seeding those), and toss them, the garlic cloves, and a bit of salt into a food processor.  Process for a few seconds until all cut into bits/shreds.  Set aside.
• Add half the chili flakes to the pan, mix and move the onions to the side.  Increase heat to medium-high.
• Add chopped bacon and fry until done but not crispy.  Move aside to sit with the onions.
• Add the meat in batches, browning and moving to the side to avoid it getting wet.  If some liquid appears, stop adding beef and cook until evaporated, add more oil and continue until all meat is browned.
• Reduce heat to medium.  Mix the meat into the onions and move aside to make a little space in bottom of casserole.  Add oil if necessary, and scrape the chili-garlic mixture out into the pan.  Fry gently until soft and aromatic, then add 1 cup of stock and scrape the bottom to deglaze.
• Add beans, bay leaves, remaining chili flakes, coriander, oregano and cumin (if using), and enough stock to almost cover the beans and meat.  Reduce heat to low simmer and cover.
• Cook on very low heat for 1 hour, checking every 30 minutes and adding stock or boiling water if necessary to keep the liquid level up.  After 1 hour, taste meat for tenderness.  If not yet fork-tender, add liquid as needed and cook in 30 minute increments until it is (the time between 1-2.5 hours will depend on the kind of meat you used).
• Once meat is tender, crack the lid of the casserole partially open and allow chili to reduce to desired consistency.  I add the wine at some point during this time.
• Serve topped with a little bit of Turkish yogurt, shredded cheese and coriander leaves.

Om nom nom nom nom!

This can obviously be combined with chili seasoning, smoked spanish paprika, chopped celery, a box of sieved tomatoes, and any of your other favourite chili ingredients. Having tried the above with those, any one or combination of them hurts it not at all!  And, like with any stew, it is even (and much) better the next day, and the day after (if you are like me and make a huge vat of it so that there is any left over)!

The Slandered Gluten

It seems you can’t walk a step in the food world these days without stumbling over gluten-free issues.  Gluten-free products are rising in demand, and people buy them–at a stiff premium, I must note–and more interstingly, regardless of whether they suffer a gluten allergy to a particular species of grain, or coeliac disease.

Now, before I go any further, for those who are not familiar with terminology:  “gluten-free” in industry standards, refers to a product which contains no more than 20ppm of gluten protein by analysis.  That’s 20 parts per million or 20mg per 1kg.  (An amusing fact for the squeamish and morbidly curious among you–that’s far less than the tolerance for “insect parts” in most fresh produce you will buy anywhere.)  Leaving that aside–what this effectively means is that there can be no gluten-containing products (that is most food cereals for you) anywhere within airborne-particle contamination range prior to product packaging, nor within that range of the product ingredients prior to their arrival on processing site.

With the above, I have absolutely no arguments, because I am fully aware of the danger of gluten to those with coeliac disease, and by no means do I wish to inflict any pain upon them due to poor labelling.  For further clarification of the subject, one may have to note that the coeliac sensitivity is not an actual allergy and thus requires far higher levels of gluten to be triggered–nor does it cause anaphylactic shock.  Wheat or other cereal allergy is triggered by the respective protein (gluten) of that cereal, and can indeed cause anaphylaxis and death at far lower levels of antigen being present.  However, the latter is far, far more rare than coeliac disease.

My peeve to do with gluten is not to do with either of the above conditions, nor with people suffering from them.  It is with the vast majority of people who have bought into the “gluten-free” fad and are cutting gluten out of their and their children’s diet for no reason other than they heard something on TV about how it is bad, and gluten-free diet is supposed to cure autism, make one lose weight, extend life, expand consciousness… you get the idea.  If asked, most of those people don’t even know what gluten is, just that it is found in most cereals and is to be avoided.

The saddest things about the situation is not the monetary premium those people pay for their food.  It is the fact that gluten-free eating makes it very difficult for the individual to get all the proper nutrients, since so many foods which are normally eaten by the general population are excluded from the menu.  That, and the fact that there is absolutely no scientific evidence to support the idea that gluten is somehow harmful to anyone who isn’t affected by coeliac disease or allergies.  And there is plenty of such studies which show that gluten-free food is often less nutrient-dense than the food it is meant to replace.  The industry attempts to compensate, and there are some good developments being made to do so, but the keyword here is compensate for the deficiency–which is not something that people need to inflict on themselves, barring the two aforementioned health conditions.  It is a compensation for the voluntary step away from natural and balanced eating habit, done for no more reason than a media fad.

To this end, I’d like to demystify gluten a little and say a few words in its defense.

Gluten, simplistically speaking, is the protein contained in cereals.  It is its quantity that determines the grade of wheat flour–the more gluten, the more expensive and higher the grade is.  It is what determines the quality of the bread which can be made of it, and which gives artisan breads the moist, chewy texture and the shiny, hard crust.  It increases the nutritional density and value of the bread, and lowers its GI (more protein = less starch content), and provides many amino acids, much as far more expensive high-protein animal-derived foods (eggs, meat, fish, dairy, etc.) do.  And, until recently, it was considered by all those whom it didn’t make specifically ill (coeliacs and allergics) to be a good, positive thing.

I do not know where the slander of gluten has started.  It is perhaps a subject which bears some research, though I believe the research needed would be socio-anthropologic rather than food-science based, and is of interest to me.  If I should find out more, I will write about it.  But however this has started, I hope that what I write will inspire people to question it, and rethink their decisions, and perhaps stop eating gluten-free food without reason, and thus benefit their health at no extra cost–or perhaps, at a savings, something no one should overlook in the current economic climate.

And should anyone want me to go into greater depth on this, or another subject, please–do ask.  Good health through good food is a passion of mine, and I am always glad to answer any questions to the best of my ability.