Look what I won!

I always enter a couple of delicious magazine's prize draws without giving much thought to whether I'll win. So I was delighted when I recently won a copy of Yotam Ottolenghi's fantastic new book, Plenty.

Ottolenghi isn't a vegetarian but has become well-known for his sumptuous meat-free recipes. His upbringing in Israel and Palestine has armed him with fulfilling recipes starring vegetables and pulses in abundance.

The book is divided into chapters based on the main ingredient, such as squashes or aubergine, so you can base your choice on what's in season or what you've got growing in the garden.

The recipes seem straightforward and don't require masses of extra speciality ingredients. My favourite so far is 'tomato party' - a jumble of tomato varieties, some cooked, some raw, with couscous and fresh herbs.

Even if you aren't in the mood for cooking the book provides a great teatime read, the words just as sumptuous as the beautiful photos. It may not turn me into a vegetarian but it'll certainly encourage me to make vegetables the star turn more often.

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Salmorejo is obviously in fashion

Well, blow me down! I was thinking about salmorejo for weeks before I did some research and wrote my recipe. A couple of days later I noticed that Delia has written her own version for Waitrose's free weekly newspaper thing.

She gets right up my nose sometimes.

Delicious but disappointing

I'm a subscriber to delicious magazine; this is my third year as a regular reader. I'm not a big magazine reader, but I do enjoy articles about food. Plus I collect as many recipes as I can, and theirs are usually appealing and easy to follow.

I feel like it's been in an ever-so-slight rut just lately, though and I've noticed two worrying trends. For the first I blame Delia and her 'I'm too old for this - let's all cheat instead' campaign. To illustrate: I saw a recipe for jerk chicken with Caribbean rice. I though "ooh, I'd like to learn how to make jerk seasoning - that'd be handy". Imagine my disappointment when the first listed ingredient turned out to be jerk seasoning! Well, I'm not stupid - I know that if I buy some jerk seasoning and add it to chicken it'll become jerk chicken. What I don't know is how to make the seasoning from scratch. I do understand: the magazine is catering for all kinds of cooks, from the highly skilled to the 30-minute-throw-together-after-work. But wouldn't it be better to give the full recipe, then mention that there's a cheat if you can't face mixing and grinding spices?

The second trend is a strange reluctance to dictate food choices. Recipes end with a sentence along the lines of "Serve it with some mango chutney, if you like". If I like? Well yes, I can do anything I want if I like. I could serve my chicken curry with strawberry ice cream if the mood took me. When I buy a food magazine I'm really hoping it'll recommend the best accompaniments, or tell me how a chef has or would serve the dish. Not just give me permission to have chutney. I'm old enough to decide that myself!

NB: I'm still a delicious subscriber and I still thoroughly enjoy the magazine, which now has a brand new editor. Perhaps she'll help to brush it over the recent mini-rut.

Cinnamon, spice and all things nice

I'm a big fan of The Cinnamon Club in London, just near Westminster. It's consistently excellent and it's a pleasure to take people there for the first time, as I did last week.

Alarm bells rang when the restaurant phoned to confirm my booking and reminded me about the two-hour limit for the table. I hate feeling pressured to get off a table, and two hours passes quite quickly when you're talking and eating. We were actually there for almost three hours, though, and service was at a good, leisurely pace.

As for the food ... well, it didn't disappoint us. For my main course I ordered tandoori king prawns with saffron almond cream and rice. You've probably got an image in your head of a king prawn, and the chances are it's a pretty large and succulent one. I can promise you it's nowhere near as large as the ones I ate! Three prawns were enough to constitute a main meal, along with a very small portion of rice. The tandoori sauce was spicy without being overpowering and the almond cream provided some counter-balancing softness.

An honourable mention must also go to the delicious lime and mint sorbet accompanying my bitter orange tart for pudding.

My only gripe is that the special offer menu is never tempting enough to keep us away from the a la carte. It's a clever marketing ploy: offer a deal at a reasonable price to get people through the door, but make sure they'll spend more once they're in. But how about just offering 25% off the bill, so that we can experience the restaurant's signature food without having to remortgage the cat?

Not even apple day!

It's ages since I reviewed a product. But I've been moved to action by Cawston Press and their apple and ginger juice.

It's delicious, refreshing and feels as if it's doing all kinds of good!

Go on - give it a try (as Neil Hannon would say).

Cous cous I said so

Since I got back from Morocco, the question I've been asked most is "how was the food?" People ask it in an envious, anticipatory way as if I'm going to tell them tales of world-class cuisine. I'd expect such hushed reverence if I said I'd returned from, say, Paris or rural Italy. But Morocco?

Many of my holidays are based around food experiences: you've probably noticed by now I'm quite partial to food! But when I booked the trip to Morocco I wasn't expecting world-beating cuisine. It turns out I was astute in my expectations.

Ok - Moroccan cuisine has the potential to be fantastic. The country grows fantastic fresh produce and makes use of a wonderful array of spices. There's a few well-known national dishes - tagine, cous cous, pastille, kefta, harira - and they're often cooked very well indeed. But ... it's all a bit....well, samey.

We travelled quite extensively around the country, from the west coast across to the Sahara in the east, across the Atlas and back over to the southern west coast. We experienced busy modern towns, old medinas, small villages, tiny outposts and touristy ports. We ate in fancy restaurants, family-run riads, remote service stations, small cafes full of locals, tourist traps and mock-European places. And my overriding food memory of the country can be summed up in one word: tagine.

There's a few exceptions. The 'Berber pizza' is worth a try, and reminded me of a lamb pasty. Some of the traditional Moroccan salads presented as appetisers in all the typical riad restaurants are delicious. The seafood in places like Essaouira makes a real change and is perfectly cooked. But these things stick in my mind primarily because they're exceptions. Most lunchtimes, wherever we'd just arrived, the menu choices were tagine, cous cous or kefta. Always in the same order, too - "tagine, cous cous, kefta" - like a menu mantra!

I did have one outstanding tagine: spiced chicken pieces with onion and tomato topped with a fried egg. It made a change from the standard chicken and lemon, lamb or meatball ones. Of course, I can't for the life of me remember the name of it! Anyone?

During our stay we found a leaflet listing the top restaurants in Morocco. I don't know who did the choosing! We were fortunate enough to visit three of them during our stay. One was completely overrated, one was pretty good and one - Le Patio in Essaouira - was outstanding. I ate fish with an olive cream followed by a delicious apple tart. The food was a fusion of traditional Moroccan and European; it still made use of excellent local ingredients but broke away from the menu-mantra. I feel a bit sad that my favourite food experiences in the country were the non-authentic ones, but that's the way it was.

Before I went, I asked someone on Twitter how he'd enjoyed the same tour a few years ago. He said it was excellent but "there's only so many tagines you can eat". My sentiments precisely.

Chilled out Spanish style

It's a while since I've been to Spain and I'm suffering from withdrawal symptoms. I can barely hear a flamenco guitar without developing the shakes and starting to salivate.

There's one dish in particular I've had a craving for lately: salmorejo, a thick tomato soup-like sauce similar to gazpacho. I've never made it before but a quick search online gave me all the information I needed to fill the gaps in my knowledge.

The first thing I did was to tear a slice of stale bread into small pieces. I soaked it in one dessert spoon of white wine vinegar, a splash of water and a drizzle of olive oil. In the meantime I hard-boiled two eggs and cooked some asparagus (two minutes in a centimetre of boiling water with the saucepan lid on).

The only laborious bit is peeling tomatoes, a messy and tedious task. Next time I'm going to try with the skins on, and I'll let you know if it made a difference. Anyway, I chopped the peeled tomatoes, along with two small shallots.

Then comes the fun bit: blend the tomatoes, shallots and bread together with a little bit more olive oil, some black pepper and some paprika. A big electric blender would be ideal for this, so that you can drizzle in the extra oil and some water, if necessary, while it's going. I've only got a hand blender and a mixing bowl, however, so I got splattered quite a bit. My kitchen looked like a scene from a slasher flick by the time I'd finished.

After a few moments I wiped the tomato mush from my eyes and checked the consistency. You're looking for something like a very thick but smooth soup. Serve it in a shallow dish with the asparagus placed in the centre. For the final touches I grated the hard-boiled eggs over the top and added a few flakes of Serrano ham.

You absolutely have to serve it with crusty bread (a bit on the stale side if you want the authentic Spanish experience...) and a Spanish rose wine.