Читать книгу A Long and Messy Business - Rowley Leigh - Страница 36
ОглавлениеThe Joy of Steam
Steamed Beetroots and Turnips with Beluga Lentils, Pickled Garlic and Lemon
I bought my steamer in a junk shop a few months ago. In
almost burnished aluminium, it is an old-fashioned, double
compartment, fish kettle sort of affair. Espying it among
the usual detritus to be found in a West London flea
market, it was love at first sight. Since that day when I beat
the dealer down to £9 for this splendid apparatus, the love
has blossomed.
Previously I steamed when I had to. The odd beetroot,
a chicken or duck prior to roasting and a bit of fish would
be committed to a wire rack suspended across a wok with
a steel bowl inverted over the top, a procedure that just
about did the job, but I needed something more. I have
always been excited by the process. Thirty years ago I
went to a restaurant in Paris (Le Dodin Bouffant, long
since gone) and loved the food: as I used to in those days,
I bought the chef’s cookbook, despite its laborious title, Le
Grand Livre de la Cuisine à la Vapeur. The chef, Jacques
Manière, aimed to prove not only that steaming was the
new healthy cuisine of the future, but also – not entirely
successfully – that there was nothing in the kitchen that
could not be achieved by steam.
Sadly, Manière died quite young and would be
disappointed that his enthusiasm for steam has borne
such little fruit. I am surprised that it has not taken hold in
the public imagination. In restaurants, chefs tend to either
pan-fry protein in a great deal of butter or they put it in
a bag and cook it in a water bath for a couple of hours.
Whereas I am using my steamer for all manner of fish and
meat, it is seeing a lot of vegetation, too, and here, in the
spirit of virtuous February, is a vegetarian main course
which is popular both at home and with my customers in
Hong Kong.
soft as the rain
and sweet as the end of pain
a star gleaming
bright as fire in the night
a theme
whenever I think of Steam
Archie Shepp, Attica Blues
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