Awadhi Mutton Pulao
This is the sort of pulao that makes the word pulao sound far too casual.
The mutton is first cooked into a proper yakhni with curd and a coarse spice mixture, then removed so the broth can be strained completely clean. That yakhni is rebuilt with milk, cream, saffron, rose and kewra, while a second, much finer masala brings in fennel, mace, kebab chini and pipli. The meat goes back, partially cooked rice is layered over it with birista, and the whole thing disappears under a tightly sealed lid for dum.
It sounds elaborate, and it is. But every bit of fuss has a purpose: deeply flavoured meat, perfumed yakhni, long separate grains of rice and absolutely no whole spice ambush waiting halfway through dinner.
A pulao with the administrative complexity of a small government department.
Beyin Salatasi
Brains have a reputation for being heavy, rich and generally the sort of ingredient that requires a certain amount of emotional preparation. Beyin Salatası takes a rather different approach.
The lamb brains are gently poached with vinegar, bay leaf, peppercorns and lemon zest, cooled, sliced and then treated almost like the delicate ingredient they actually are. Lots of parsley and spring onion, sharp lemon and vinegar, raw garlic and olive oil do most of the work around them. The result is creamy and incredibly soft, but also bright, acidic and surprisingly fresh.
It is a classic Turkish meyhane dish, and a useful reminder that offal doesn't always need to arrive fried, heavily spiced or disguised beneath a formidable gravy.
Sometimes a brain just needs a good salad.
Shamdey
There was something unexpectedly meditative about making Shamdey. The ingredient list is remarkably short, which means instead of rushing through a dozen spices and processes, you get to spend a little time with each one.
Brown the onion properly, then take it out. Let the beef fry. Wait for the ginger and garlic to become aromatic. Give the meat all the time it needs to soften. Add the fennel only with the potatoes so its fragrance stays fresh. Finely chop the fried onion and return it right at the end. Every ingredient has a job, and every step seems to happen only when it needs to.
The result is deceptively simple: beef, potatoes and a light, soupy gravy, but with layers of sweetness, warmth and aroma built from very little.
A quiet recipe with very loud attention to detail.
Lamb Shanks and Olive Casserole
This Lebanese lamb casserole is basically what happens when a slow braise develops a bit of an attitude. Lamb shanks cook until they are barely hanging onto the bone, while olives, seven-spice and pomegranate molasses push the sauce between savoury, briny and sweet-tart. Then there are anchovies, which sound like they have wandered into the wrong recipe but quietly melt away and leave behind a serious hit of umami. Give it enough time and everything collapses into a rich, deeply flavoured sauce that demands bread, rice, or preferably both. Some dishes are simply not designed for restraint.
Classic Tuna Melt
The tuna melt is one of those gloriously unfussy sandwiches that doesn't need much convincing. Tuna, mayonnaise, crisp celery, tomato and an unreasonable amount of melted cheese, all tucked between toasted bread. My version has one slightly geeky trick: emulsifying extra virgin olive oil into the tuna, which makes the filling remarkably creamy and gives it a grassy, slightly bitter richness. It is part sandwich, part diner nostalgia, and basically a hot, cheesy hug you will absolutely not regret.
Buttermilk Blueberry Pancakes
Pancakes are basically a small exercise in controlled chemistry. Buttermilk brings acidity, baking soda gives it something to react with, and a gentle hand keeps the gluten from getting too enthusiastic. The result is a stack of soft, fluffy pancakes with little bursts of blueberry and a hint of lemon. Simple ingredients, very good science.