Soulsubsistence the Food Blog is back: Cauliflower Cheese Soufflé Pie

It’s time Soulsubsistence became a blog about food and Cumbria and Cumbrian food once again. We have recipes to share, food ideas for the fussiest, most intolerant eaters, and at least one shareable cooking disaster every couple of weeks.

Continue reading “Soulsubsistence the Food Blog is back: Cauliflower Cheese Soufflé Pie”

The Cauliflower Pizza Crust Epidemic.

I swear Cauliflower Crust has gone viral. The Daily Dish Recipes swears it is a kid proof, fussy eater’s cauliflower. The type they don’t realise about until they’ve eaten it.

I had to try it, but I knew I’d want to write about it, so I made mine a little different. Small, and perfectly formed.

I did the Paleosisters’ recipe for the first batch (sort of – how heavy is 1 cup of grated cheese?!? American recipes still baffle me), using Jarlberg (because it goes stringy) and chucked in some self-raising flour to boost the quantities for the second lot. The garlic was CRUCIAL to the flavour. (Missed it out of the second batch and missed it, a lot).

Tips to help yourself:

  • grease the pan. Plenty of oil. Don’t skimp.
  • eat them while they’re warm.

Gaps in the production line already. These had great flavour with the backdrop of sweet, nutty, Norwegian cheese.

Two bites and it’s gone!

I wanted to finish them off as mini pizzas – it’s part of the cauliflower’s disguise, almost, so pesto, harrisa, a slice of mozzarella, a couple of spring onions and some pieces of Polish sausage finished the deal … Topped with perfection!

The reason there are only seven cooked final babies in this photo is simple.

A self-confessed cauliflower hater entered the house with several bags of clothes shopping, ate six pizza bites in a row whilst describing her shopping trip and then apologised for eating so many at once. Then I remembered to take a photo.*

Later I was telling her about this recipe. “You’d probably better not try it out on me,” was the response. “Of all the vegetables, that’s the one I’ve never been able to stomach. (Pause) Why are you laughing? (Pause) Was that … Was that the recipe?”

So it does work.

*I am doomed to take out of focus photos of food for the rest of eternity. I’m sure of it.

Mackerel Days

Fish is fabulous food, easy to digest, full of flavour and simple to incorporate into everyday cooking. Because we’ve somehow become a nation of fish haters, suspicious fears of bones and skin creeping into our everyday psyche, we’ve forgotten how good it can taste when it isn’t battered within an inch of its life.

The good news is that tinned fish is about as nutritious as fresh. Mackerel is wonderful out of a tin. Mix the spicy tomato sauce type with mushrooms, onion, garlic and chilli and eat with pasta for a cheap and sapiditous meal. (About 88p a tin in some supermarkets).

Plain mackerel is also good.

Break up one portion of tinned mackerel fillets (in sunflower oil is better, but brine is fine) in a bowl. Dice a small piece of onion, as much as to taste and add to the bowl with a few pieces of finely chopped chilli, a squeeze of lime, a scraping of lime zest and a pinch of salt. Mix together, not too thoroughly; it isn’t mackerel mush on the menu.

Toast half a tablespoon of fennel seeds in a small dry frying pan until they begin to pop (keep shaking the pan until they do, burning is NOT your friend). Pound the toasted seeds in your mortar, smelling the warm, heady licquorice from the forming powder. A teaspoon of this is all you need in your mackerel salad to give it a different flavour. It enhances the smoky quality of tinned mackerel and evokes warm open campfires and incense.  (Alternatively, add a teaspoon of ready powdered fennel, but it doesn’t do the same job.)

It’s best scooped into the cavities of Cos lettuce leaves (and in the case below, accompanied by a bit of caulislaw).