We went foraging for wild garlic in London last weekend, stuffing two big bags with pungent green sprays. After sifting through for buds (now pickled), we found ourselves left with an entire binbag-full. It triggered flashbacks to the time we ended up with 34kg of spring onions.

So it’s wild garlic in everything. I’ve put it into my easy everyday flatbread recipe, smearing them with extra wild garlic butter while still warm from the skillet. D has made batches of wild garlic kimchi and wild garlic pesto, and we had wild garlic buttered soldiers with our eggs this morning (recommend). Yesterday I made the wild garlic and cheese börek recipe below, and I’m still staring down a half-full bag.

Here are the recipes for the wild garlic flatbreads and the börek – enjoy! You, too, could stink of garlic 24/7. Oh, and before you ask: I got the stuff in Mile End, not Camberwell. Sorry! I believe Dulwich Woods is full of it, though.

Wild Garlic Flatbread Recipe

Makes 8-12 depending on how large you want them.

500g strong white flour plus a little extra for dusting and mixing
2 teaspoons salt
30ml olive oil
300ml warm water
1 packet of instant yeast
150g wild garlic leaves, washed and chopped
Extra wild garlic chopped and mashed into butter is recommended for serving!

Mix everything together in a bowl and give it a knead on a lightly floured surface for a few minutes, until smooth and springy. You may need to add a little more than 500g flour (just a dusting), as the wild garlic adds moisture but just mix it together and see how you go. You want a nice, smooth, springy dough.

Leave the dough in a warm place for an hour or so until it has roughly doubled in size.

Knock back the dough and divide into 8 balls for larger breads or 12 for small.

Roll the dough balls flat and cook for 2-3 minutes in a properly hot, dry pan (I use a cast iron griddle) until a little charred on each side. They will start to puff up when ready. Keep them warm inside a clean tea towel while you cook the rest.

Wild Garlic and Cheese Börek Recipe

150g wild garlic leaves washed and chopped (don’t worry about them being *too* finely chopped as they will wilt and it’s nice to have some slightly larger bits I think)
200g white Turkish cheese (I bought ‘beyaz peynir’ which literally means ‘white cheese’ in the Turkish Food Centre but you could use feta if you don’t have a similar shop nearby)
1 packet yufka pastry (again I buy this in the Turkish Food Centre – you could use filo if you like but it will be a much crisper result as filo is thicker)
Around 100g butter, melted
1 egg, beaten
A sprinkle of za’atar and chilli to serve (optional)

Preheat the oven to 180C.

Mix the chopped wild garlic leaves well with the crumbled white cheese.

Have your melted butter ready, then lay out a double sheet of yufka on a work surface. Brush all over with butter. Lay another two sheets overlapping the edge on the right-hand side of the first sheets. Brush with butter. Repeat this four or 5 times (depends how much surface space you have, to be honest.

On the bottom edge of the sheets, make a long strip of the wild garlic and cheese mixture, as if you are making the largest spicy cigarette of your life. Carefully roll it up into a long sausage, brushing the edge at the top with a final layer of butter before sealing. Curl it around into a snail shape, then add to a cake tin, brushing again with butter (bit of a theme, the butter thing). Finally, give it a quick wash with the egg – this makes it nice and golden.

Bake for 35-40 minutes, or until golden brown. It tastes best when still slightly warm from the oven.

If you’ve been following my recipes or Instagram account for a while, you’ll know I have a thing for Adana kebabs. It started (maybe?) with the late-night, fat-spitting, t-shirt stainer they sell in wraps at FM Mangal and now I’m constantly making them at home, be it in crispy kebab rolls, as this yogurtlu’ version smothered in yoghurt and spiced butter, or the many straight-up, wrap-it-in-flatbread-with-salad iterations. The basic recipe – as recipes do – has constantly evolved.

This is the most up to date version and, I think, the best yet. Why? It’s a case of using the right amount of the red pepper paste so it’s pronounced but not bitter, plus I just really enjoy the mix of spices. Parsley stalks are pretty crucial too because they bring a slight crunch and pops of fresh flavour, while the leaves tend to get lost.

Method is important, so make sure you knead the meat mixture then chill it for a springier texture and to stop it falling off the skewers during cooking. Also, don’t make them too large because they won’t cook evenly. Keep the accompaniments fairly simple; yoghurt is essential and I also like to serve an onion, sumac and parsley salad, plus plenty of freshly made flatbreads. Yes, it’s worth making the flatbreads. A couple of people have asked me to do a flatbread tutorial on Instagram, so I’ll get around to that as soon as I can. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy these! Remember, guys: it’s never too cold to barbecue.

New Adana Kebab Recipe (makes 6 kebabs)

*** THIS IS NOTHING LIKE A TRADITIONAL ADANA KEBAB RECIPE, IT WAS JUST INSPIRED BY ONE***

For the spice mix

1-inch cinnamon stick
1 teaspoon fennel seeds
1 teaspoon fenugreek seeds
1 tablespoon cumin seeds
1 tablespoon coriander seeds
1 tablespoon chilli flakes

Toast the whole spices (apart from the chilli flakes) in a dry frying pan until fragrant, then grind all the spices using a spice grinder.

For the kebabs

6 cloves garlic
1 tablespoon red pepper paste (biber salçası – available in Turkish shops such as The Turkish Food Centre)
2 tablespoons parsley stalks
400g minced lamb
2 teaspoons salt

Combine the garlic cloves and salt in a pestle and mortar and smoosh to a paste. Combine with a tablespoon of the spice mix, the red pepper paste, parsley stalks and minced lamb. Knead the meat in the bowl using your hands, as if you are kneading bread dough. Do this for a few minutes, then allow to rest in the fridge for a minimum of half an hour but if you can do this day before, even better.

Divide between 6 large skewers.

Cook the kebabs over direct heat on a barbecue. You know the drill here, right? Make sure your coals are properly ready, e.g. covered in a layer of grey ash before you start cooking. No flames. They’ll take around 3-4 minutes each side (it’s useful to have a pair of tongs on hand to turn them).

For the onion salad

Slice one onion and add the slices to a bowl of iced water for around 20 minutes or so. Combine with a good handful of chopped parsley leaves, some salt and a tablespoon of sumac.

For the flatbreads

I think you can’t beat fresh flatbreads with this. That recipe uses spices but you can just leave them out (as I did).

My first dish of manti was a crushing disappointment. I’d developed an interest in Turkish food and was determined, on a visit to Istanbul, to tick off as many experiences as possible – always a guaranteed route to spoiling the fun. I’ve learned over the years that while planning is all well and good, you need to allow for a certain amount of spontaneity when travelling, otherwise it just turns into an exercise in box-ticking. You may as well walk around with your eyes closed.

The manti happened because we were hopelessly lost in some back street – a really steep, cobbled lane which we trudged along in the early afternoon sun, moaning and bickering because we wanted nothing more than an ice cold beer and a plate of something really, authentically Turkish. Once the flip-flops on my newly exposed feet had rubbed the skin raw and our t-shirts clung to our backs we’d had enough and ducked into the next pleasant-enough looking restaurant.

The walls were covered in colourful mosaic tiles and the staff were young and spoke English – not exactly the ‘little old lady rolling yufka’ experience I’d been hankering after but hey, when did jumping to conclusions ever get me anywhere? Also: cold beer. We saw manti on the menu and I was thrilled at the opportunity to tick something off the list. My first, real manti experience was incoming.

They were multicoloured, these dumplings (a warning sign if ever I’ve seen one), and were as bland as flour and water can be. A bowl of flabby pouches in plain yoghurt, underseasoned and sorry for themselves. I’d never tasted manti before, but I knew they had to be more than this, because as a cook, I’m able to read a list of ingredients and have a pretty good idea what the final dish is going to taste like. That was the first thing we ate in Istanbul.

Thankfully, there were many better meals that holiday but actually, no better manti. I’ve had fantastic mantu (Afghani cousins) in Adelaide, glorious khinkali in Georgia and many other dumplings around the world, but no good manti. Even those I’ve eaten in the UK have been a different style entirely, such as the marvellous beetroot and feta version at Queen’s, almost a sort of hybrid dumpling, with various whispers of Eastern Europe and the Caucasus muddling in.

I wanted to start then, by making the very traditional Turkish lamb manti, little folded parcels containing minced meat, topped with garlic yoghurt and spiced butter. I was absolutely convinced I’d mess this up but actually they were fairly easy and I did a little dance around the kitchen when they came out exactly as I wanted them, the first time around. These are the dumplings I’d expected that day in Istanbul. The dumplings of my dreams.

Manti with Lamb, Garlic Yoghurt and Spiced Butter

This will serve 4 people in portions a little larger than the one in the photos. They’re pretty filling, to be honest.

For the dough

225 plain flour (plus extra for dusting)
1 egg
2 teaspoons olive oil
100ml cold water
Pinch salt

For the filling

150g minced lamb
½ medium onion, grated
½ teaspoon ground cumin
Pinch ground cinnamon

For the garlic yoghurt

3 cloves garlic, peeled
250g natural yoghurt (full fat, obviously)
Small handful parsley leaves

For the spiced butter

50g butter
¼ teaspoon paprika (make sure your paprika is fresh – in my experience, it’s the spice that most easily loses pungency)
1 teaspoon pul biber flakes (Turkish chilli/Aleppo pepper)

To serve
Dill

To make the dough, sift the flour and salt into a bowl, then make a well in the middle. Add the egg and olive oil and mix briefly. Add the water a bit at a time until it comes together into a dough. It shouldn’t be sticky. You might not need all the water, and I’d be surprised if you need more but flour is funny stuff – don’t worry too much. Knead on a lightly floured surface for 5 minutes or so until smooth and elastic. Divide into 4 pieces. Cover with a damp tea towel and leave for 20 minutes.
While this is happening, mix the lamb, onion, spices and some salt and pepper in a bowl, using your hands.

On a lightly floured surface, roll out one piece at a time to a width of around 2mm. This is easiest with one of those skinny rolling pins, like this (available online or in Turkish shops). Cut the dough into squares. It’s up to you but about 4cm square worked for me.

Place a blob of filling in the centre of each square, approximately the size of a chickpea. Fold opposite ends inwards and pinch together, then set the manti down, push the filling inside (it will have popped up a little) and fold the other sides to form a cross shape. This sounds complicated but is obvious once you have a go (otherwise: Youtube). Set aside on a flour-dusted tray.

Make the yoghurt by simmering the garlic cloves in boiling water for 1 minute, then draining, crushing and mixing with the yoghurt, parsley and a pinch of salt.

Make the butter by melting it and adding the spices. Heat gently, taking care not to burn it.

Cook the manti in boiling salted water for 3 minutes. Arrange on the plate with yoghurt and spiced butter. Add some dill fronds if you like. Serve immediately.

adana-yogurtlu

There are some really great restaurants very close to my house, which is both a blessing and a curse, believe me. Recently, for example, I had to introduce a ban on visiting Xinjiang restaurant Silk Road because I started to tire of cumin lamb skewers and hand-pulled noodles. Can you imagine? Then, the other night, we had to turn around while on our way to Theo’s pizzeria because omfg it was getting embarrassing to go in there.

Another ‘problem’ has been my long and well-documented love affair with the lamb Adana wrap from F M Mangal and to be honest that’s not something I’ve managed to shake off. My most recent sticky little habit? Their Adana yogurtlu (and when I say ‘recent’ I mean it’s something I’ve been addicted to for the last four years).

This is a dish that combines everything I love about Turkish food. There’s yoghurt and spiced butter, there’s charred tomato sauce and fluffy bread and there are those fatty little kebabs, hot and fragrant. The yoghurt soaks into the bread at the bottom so it swells up all plump and happy, just like me after I’ve eaten it. It’s one big mess of smoke-licked Turkish fun and for a while, I just couldn’t get enough. I fell hard. I wanted more.

yogurtlu-adana

I knew I could make it at home but really, why would I when it’s right there, just across the road? Well, because. Because I’m a cook and a food writer and I can’t bloody help myself. Also, what if someone didn’t get to experience the joy of Adana yogurtlu, just because they don’t live near an FM Mangal? That would be a sad thing indeed. They would need a recipe. I was doing it for the people *thumps hand to chest in solidarity*.

You could cook this on the BBQ like I did for this recipe but it’s cold out, guys. I whacked them under the grill making sure to get lots of nice crispy bits. The dish needs to taste mangalised (that’s definitely a word, albeit an entirely new one). It’s a great feed, I tell ya, so do consider making it unless you live opposite FM Mangal, in which case, carry on. Will I stop going to FM Mangal now I’ve made this recipe? Will I hell. I’m busy and anyway, they give us Raki.

This post is part of some work I did with Leisure range cookers (it’s the second of two recipes, the first is here). I was their ‘meat representative’. You can find out more about the campaign here.

Adana Yogurtlu Recipe

This recipe will serve 6.

You’ll find the recipe for the Adana here.

For the tomato sauce

1 regular onion, finely chopped
½ green pepper, finely chopped
3 cloves garlic, crushed or finely chopped
2 tins chopped tomatoes
2 teaspoons chilli flakes
Olive oil

Cook the onion and pepper gently in a couple of tablespoons of olive oil until soft but not coloured. Add the garlic and cook for a few mins. Add the tomatoes, salt and pepper. Bring to simmer, put a lid on and let cook very gently for about 1.5 hours. Blend the sauce. Taste for seasoning and adjust if necessary.

For the spiced butter

100g butter
2 heaped teaspoons Urfa chilli

To serve

Pitta, toasted (1 per person makes sense but hey, up to you)
Natural yoghurt (must be full fat, don’t mess about)
Chopped parsley

To assemble

Spread some yoghurt onto a plate. Layer with chopped, toasted pitta, more yoghurt, sliced Adana kebabs, tomato sauce, a final dollop of yoghurt and then a generous drizzle of spiced butter. Scatter with parsley. Serve.

 

Lamb and Date Meatballs in a Frazzled Aubergine Sauce.

When shiny aubergines are placed over a naked flame, their skins blacken and they collapse inward on themselves with a steamy sigh. Once cooled and split, the inside is gloriously smoky; a total transformation. It is this creamy flesh that blends into dips such as baba ghanoush, but I like to use it as a base for a sauce.

The meatballs are made with lamb, dates and warming spices like cumin and chilli. I’ve nicked a trick from the Italians too and mixed in some breadcrumbs soaked in milk – just a little – so they become light and extremely easy to eat. A swirl of yoghurt and a few pomegranate seeds make this dish pretty. Serve with couscous or bread to absorb the luxurious sauce.

Lamb and Date Meatballs in Frazzled Aubergine Sauce

500g minced lamb
4 dates, pitted and finely chopped
1 heaped teaspoon cumin seeds
1 teaspoon coriander seeds
1 heaped teaspoon hot chilli flakes, or to taste
1 teaspoon dried mint
1 thick slice white bread
Milk (about 4 tablespoons)

For the sauce

4 aubergines
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1/2 400g regular tin chopped tomatoes
2 black cardamom
1 tablespoon pomegranate molasses
1 cinnamon stick
300ml vegetable stock

Vegetable oil, for frying

Pierce the aubergines in several places with a fork, then place directly on the gas ring of the hob, turning occasionally, until black and shrivelled all over. Alternatively, grill them to the same effect.

Remove the crusts from the slice of bread and break into rough pieces. Place in a small bowl with enough milk to mash to a paste.

In a small frying pan, toast the cumin and coriander seeds over a low heat, stirring frequently, until they start to smell fragrant. Take care not to burn them. Grind them in a spice grinder or crush them in a pestle and mortar.

In a large bowl combine the minced lamb, bread paste, ground cumin and coriander, chilli flakes, chopped dates and mint. Season with salt and pepper. Mix well; really , really well. Get in there with your hands and knead the mixture almost like a bread dough. Make sure the dates are well distributed. Roll into walnut sized balls. Set aside on a plate.

Heat 2 tablespoons of vegetable oil in the Le Creuset, and fry the meatballs in batches, 4 or 5 at a time, until golden brown all over. Set each batch aside while you cook the next.

To make the sauce, scrape the flesh from inside the aubergines, leaving behind the blackened skin. Chop roughly. Fry the onion until , cardamom pods and cinnamon stick until the onions are soft and beginning to colour. Scrape up the lovely meaty residues from the pan as you do this. Add the aubergines and garlic. Turn up the heat a little and Cook for about five minutes more stirring.

Add the tomatoes, pomegranate molasses and stock. Put lid on and cook for 45 mins to an hour on low heat. Taste and season. For a thicker sauce, remove the lid towards the end of cooking time to reduce it. Add back the meatballs to heat through.

Scatter with pomegranate seeds and coriander to serve.

Aubergine and Lamb Pide

I’ve got a new oven. This is brilliant for 2 reasons. Firstly, it’s all clean and shiny; I mean, how often does your oven look clean and shiny on the inside? Not very often I think you’ll find. Not if you’re a slovenly layabout like me anyway. Second, my old oven was, quite frankly, a piece of shit. It had no numbers on the temperature dial and no symbols for the oven settings and it cooked unevenly so that everything had to be turned around halfway through or it would burn on one side – not exactly ideal.

So, I cooked pide in my swanky new oven; I made nice, evenly cooked pide and I knew exactly what temperature I was cooking them at by means of the lovely little digital display (imagine my panic when I saw the temp dial had no numbers around the outside). That’s 15 minutes at 220C, in case you’re wondering.

Pide are rather similar to lahmacun* and are apparently sold on every street corner in their homeland. I topped mine with aubergine (which I blackened on the gas hob before scooping out the smoky flesh); lamb, minced; spices like coriander, cumin and cinnamon; onion, garlic and a little tomato. At one point I was feeling particularly rock and roll and recklessly squeezed in some incredible  Le Phare du Cap Bon harissa (from The Good Fork – they have some great stuff, like sardine spread, which is impossible to stop eating). Very spicy indeed. You could also use the fiery red pepper paste found in Middle Eastern shops or failing that just a decent amount of chopped red chilli.

I garnished the finished pide with diced Persian pickles (dill pickles would make a nice substitute), a sprinkle of lemon juice and some parsley. These things are essential for distracting from the richness of the lamb. The dough is a piece of piddle too. Well, it is if you have an electric mixer, anyway. It was thin, yet soft – extremely easy to demolish.

The end result is a bit like a banana shaped pizza. A delicious, meat-smeared boat of soft, spicy flatbread. Very evenly cooked.

*If you like the look of this, you’ll probably also like the look of my similar, Peckham Pizza.

Smoky Aubergine and Lamb Pide

(makes 4)

For the topping:

1 large-ish aubergine
250g minced lamb
1/2 onion, finely chopped
1/2 teaspoon coriander seeds
1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds
Pinch ground cinnamon
1 clove garlic, crushed
2 tomatoes
A squeeze of tomato puree
2 red chillies (or a squeeze of very good quality, hot harissa)

To garnish:

Chopped pickled cucumbers, chopped parsley and lemon juice

Place the aubergine on the ring of a gas hob on a low heat (or under the grill), turning often, until completely blackened and collapsed. I think the hob gets a more smoky flavour but it sure as hell makes a mess. Once cool enough, scrape out the flesh, taking care to avoid any pieces of black skin. Finely chop the flesh. Set aside and discard the skins.

Skin the tomatoes by scoring a cross in the bottom and covering with boiling water for a couple of minutes. Drain, peel away the skin and chop finely. Toast the cumin and coriander seeds in a dry pan over a low heat, moving them around; when they start to smell fragrant, tip them into a pestle and mortar or spice grinder and grind to a powder.

Sauté the onions in a little oil and when soft, add the chilli and garlic and continue cooking for 30 seconds or so, stirring. Add the spices and stir again for another 30 seconds. Add the lamb and cook, breaking up the meat with a spoon, until it is all brown and cooked through. Add the tomatoes and aubergine flesh and cook for about 10-15 minutes, until any excess liquid has cooked out. Taste and season with salt and pepper. The topping is now ready so allow it to cool.

For the dough:

For the dough I used a recipe I found online which I now can’t locate for the life of me. If it’s your recipe, I’m sorry! I’ll reproduce it here anyway.

1 x 7g sachet fast action dried yeast
1 teaspoon sugar
150ml warm water
300g plain flour
1 teaspoon salt
2.5 tablespoons olive oil + more for brushing

Mix the yeast and sugar with the warm water. You want warm water, not hot, as it will kill the yeast. Leave it to one side to activate. When it’s ready (in about 5 minutes), it should be very frothy on top. If not, your water wasn’t warm enough or it was too hot – start again.

Sift the flour and salt into the bowl of an electric mixer or large mixing bowl. Add the yeast mixture and oil. If using a mixer, set it on low speed for 10 minutes until you have a smooth, elastic dough. If mixing my hand, you’re going to have to knead it until you have the same result.

Put the dough in a lightly oiled bowl and cover with a damp tea towel. Let it rise for about half an hour, or until doubled in size. Knock back the dough then cut into 4 pieces. Roll each piece out into a rectangle with tapered ends (much easier than it sounds – they don’t need to be neat at all).

Preheat the oven to 220C

Put each rectangle onto a baking tray lined with baking paper and then smear the topping over each, spreading it evenly. Fold up the sides of each pide and crimp at the ends. Brush the edges with olive oil and bake for 15 minutes. Brush the crust with olive oil once more when cooked. Sprinkle with the garnish and serve.