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Observer Food Monthly window at Fortnum & Mason - video

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 10:57:00 GMT

To mark the 10th anniversary of the Observer Food Monthly Awards, Fortnum & Mason have created a window display in honour of the magazine. Here's how they did it

Nigel Slater: welcome to OFM's June issue

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 07:00:00 GMT

Nigel Slater introduces a summer special from Observer Food Monthly

In this month's OFM, Kitty Travers of La Grotta Ices gets to grips with the raspberry ripple. An unapologetically nostalgic ice cream, the raspberry ripple has a secure place in my memory as the ultimate summer treat. The ice cream that carries with it the very essence of carefree, seemingly endless summer holidays, of the countryside and the sea. It is a childhood summer in a cone. Kitty's ices are special. They are made with fresh fruit, in season, and in small quantities. Of all the ices she could have perfected for us, the raspberry ripple is the one I was hoping for.

Of course, one ice cream does not make a summer, so we sent Gizzi Erskine to hunt out the best core summer foods from the high street. She came back with scotch eggs and taramasalata, pork pie and quiche. Gizzi gives us the lowdown on what to pack for an instant picnic.

As always, we have a clutch of recipes for you. Polpo's Florence Knight has allowed us a preview of some of the recipes in her new book, One: A Cook and Her Cupboard. I have been working on ideas for some quick, stress-free summer dishes that take less time to prepare than they do to eat.

Summer is not just about eating, and neither is OFM, so we have plenty of drinks in store, too. We have been working hard at selecting some of the very best wines for drinking outdoors, including some great rosés and, of course, the best fizz.

We also have Jay Rayner on kids cooking at home, lunch with the ex-head of MI5, Stella Rimington, and I should also mention that this is your last chance to vote in this year's Food Monthly Awards. So if there is a retailer, cook, producer or place that you feel deserves recognition, then now is your opportunity. Our awards are your awards, so now is the time to join in. Get your votes in this week. OFM

Nigel Slater's asparagus recipes

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 05:06:01 GMT

Eaten raw, steamed or baked, asparagus spears tossed in dressing always bring a touch of luxury to the table

My weekly train journey west allows me a glimpse of the allotments that border the tracks. A chance to marvel at the serried rows of young cabbage plants protected by nets; romantic sheds on the verge of collapse; cane teepees of young beans and furrowed earth sprouting tufts of potato leaves. A window seat permits a sneaky peep at broad beans in flower and regimented carrots, rambling brambles and strawberry beds whose crop is ahead of my own. The trip stokes envy, too, at those who had the foresight and patience to plant an asparagus bed. The emerging stalks are barely visible at speed, but the swaying fronds left behind certainly are, the sort of ferny leaves you might find in a buttonhole at a wedding.

Asparagus seems cheaper now, but still something to treat with respect. In the steamer, or lying in state in boiling water, asparagus needs a gentle hand if the long, pencil thin spears are not to break. I sometimes serve it raw, using a vegetable peeler to shave the crisp green and white stalks into long curls. They will soak up a dressing without becoming soft, perhaps a mixture of olive oil and lemon or cider vinegar and walnut oil. You could add a few drops of balsamic vinegar, too. My preference is for something a little acidic in a dressing for asparagus, so a sweet lemon, its zest grated and its flesh finely chopped, are as likely to appear in a recipe as tarragon vinegar.

Anything salty will make asparagus dance. A dusting of Parmesan in the melted butter. A soft cheese left to drool over the spears in the oven. This week I married some late, West Country "sparrow grass" with samphire. Tossed in a dressing with some long-legged summer carrots and a little walnut oil, the salad was good, but even better the second time when I left the asparagus raw. The seasons for both just collide. The interest lies as much in the textures – spiky, curly and crisp – as in the flavour.

The end of season sprue, as thin as wire, will make a flavoursome enough soup, but I like it as a pasta dish, too, when the lightly cooked tendrils of asparagus end up in a tangle with spaghettini, almost melted butter, nutmeg and grated Parmesan. A cheap supper with a smattering of luxury. The fine stuff is hopeless in a quiche, though, unless you chop it finely and toss it with fried bacon.

As with everything, the season is late this year. We may get a couple of weeks more of local spears. Maybe longer. It's a chance to experiment a little, to move on from the sublime classic of hollandaise sauce or the perfect asparagus tart. A chance to sharpen the edges, to take a punt and consider the alternatives.

Asparagus, carrot and samphire salad

A clean, crunchy summer salad. Use the long, thin spring carrots and shave them from the bottom with a vegetable peeler. Serves 2.

long spring carrots 3
asparagus spears 6
samphire a large handful
medium shallot 1, medium
white-wine vinegar
rapeseed oil

Peel the shallot and chop it finely, then put it into a mixing bowl with the white-wine vinegar. Wipe the carrots and remove their leaves. Using a vegetable peeler, shave the carrots into long, thin ribbons, letting them fall into the vinegar.

Shave the asparagus in the same way, toss with the carrots then set aside for half an hour. Wash the samphire and remove any of the stalks' tough ends. I prefer it raw, but if you wish, lightly steam for two or three minutes, drain and refresh in cold water. Add it to the asparagus and carrots.

Drain the vinegar into a separate bowl, then beat in an equal amount of rapeseed oil with a small whisk, adding salt and pepper, and fine tuning the salad until it is to your taste. Return to the bowl and toss the vegetables in it.

Asaparagus with lemon and tomato sauce

A lovely fresh way with the season's green spears using sweet Italian lemons. Serves 2.

lemon 1
olive oil 60ml
lemon juice 1 tbsp
cherry tomatoes 8
chives 6 thin leaves
basil 8 leaves
tarragon 1 tbsp
asparagus 250g

Slice the skin from the lemon then go over it carefully removing every little bit of the bitter white pith that lies underneath. I find this easiest with a small, sharp paring knife.

Remove the sections of flesh and cut into tiny pieces, discarding seeds as you go. Put them into a mixing bowl then pour in the olive oil and lemon juice. Slice the cherry tomatoes in half then add to the lemon. Finely snip the chives, shred the basil and chop the tarragon, then add to the lemon and tomato. Season gently, with a little black pepper and sea salt. A few chive flowers would be an appropriate, though far from essential, addition. Set aside in a cool place for the flavours to marry.

Trim the asparagus, removing any tough ends, then steam or cook in boiling water as you wish. When it is tender, after eight or nine minutes or so, drain and divide between two plates. Spoon over the lemon dressing and serve.

Roast asparagus

Baking the spears in a foil parcel in the oven will suit those who don't like messing around with boiling water and steam, and keeps the asparagus surprisingly succulent. Serves 2.

asparagus 450g, thin spears
olive oil 2 tbsp, light and mild
lemon juice of 1

Heat the oven to 180C/gas mark 4. Place the spears on a large sheet of kitchen foil. Drizzle over the oil and lemon juice and then scatter over a seasoning of salt. Bring the edges of the foil up and seal them tightly (you want the asparagus to cook in its own steam). Bake for 15-20 minutes, or until the spears are tender.

Email Nigel at nigel.slater@observer.co.uk

Restaurant review: Newman Street Tavern

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 06:30:10 GMT

It has the menu and atmosphere of the best rural pubs. All that's missing from the Newman Street Tavern is the mud

48 Newman Street, London W1 (020 3667 1445). Meal for two, including drinks and service: £100

I have located the perfect country pub. It's a place where the cooking is shorn of dreary metropolitan clichés and posturing, where the choice of ingredients flows with the seasons, where you feel the Lawrencesque throb of nature and appetite working as one. As with any serious country pub, it's the kind of place where you could misplace a whole afternoon. And the best thing about it? You don't have to wade out into the country to find it. The Newman Street Tavern is on a corner overlooking a dusty building site just north of London's Oxford Street. Result.

I have nothing against the countryside. Some of my best friends live there. A lot of my working life involves stumbling across rutted farm fields wearing inappropriate footwear, like a character from some Howard Jacobson novel. I can do outdoors. But I'm much better at cocktails and central heating. Still, I do like the approach to food that "out there" can bring. The menu at the Newman Street Tavern sums it up perfectly. I have the paper in front of me and it feels like a place of safety. I'm stroking it. It's a bunch of ingredients – wild garlic, sweet cured trout, brown crabmeat, gulls' eggs – which bellow "Eat me!"

To all of these things chef and partner Peter Weeden does only what is necessary. That crabmeat arrives mined with pebbles of rosy roe on a thick-cut piece of warm buttered toast. It is all the richest, most intense bits of the crab, with a squirt of lemon to make it decent. Another piece of toast is smeared with laverbread, that glorious Welsh seaweed gunge which has all of the iodine and umami kick of its Japanese relatives. On top are two slices of crisp-cooked, dry-cured bacon. And then, to cool everything down, a still-warm boiled gull's egg, with a yolk soft enough to be spread.

An onion tart is where the kitchen's serious chops become obvious. If I tried to make pastry as stupidly thin and delicate as this, my kitchen would be littered with debris. I would be found sobbing in a corner, covered in pastry. This is a magnificent piece of work, the shell filled with a soft-sweet stew of tangled onions.

They do fish here, but we didn't. They had Blackface lamb and suckling kid. (The meat comes in on whole carcasses and is butchered on site.) Plus, they understand the imperative of fat; that fat is where all the flavour is. Their rounds of sweet suckling kid, the meat enclosing pearlescent jellied pebbles of the best fat, with butter-sautéed St George's mushrooms, are why I belong to a gym. They are why I wear a headband and bash away at the treadmill four times a week, arriving precisely nowhere. I do that so I can eat this. There are tiny ribs and a little bit of the belly. The Blackface lamb comes with some loin and belly and one large chop, and a proper ribbon of its own bronzed fat at its back, and tastes of a life properly led. Underneath there are salty-bitter sea vegetables, a little monk's beard and green frondy, crunchy things I cannot identify, but which I welcome all the same. There's grilled fennel with lemon and parsley and nutty little Jersey Royal potatoes.

There are two floors of solidly built pub, the walls covered with art of occasionally dodgy quality which somehow works. There are tall windows to let in the light and cheery staff to add to the lightness, and lots of wines from interesting places – wine of the month was a heavy-browed red from Turkey – many available by glass and carafe.

Obviously we did not need sticky toffee pudding or a sweet blackthorn jelly surrounded by a deep moat of Ayrshire cream. But a place like the Newman Street Tavern is not about need. It's about want. They have recently started doing brunch at weekends: brown trout Benedict, Galloway sirloin with egg and chips, green shore crab bisque and the like.

Come Fridays, some of my friends head to the country; if I need a weekend in the country I'm just going to come here.

Email Jay at jay.rayner@observer.co.uk. Follow Jay on Twitter @jayrayner1

How to make pizza dough - video

Mon, 17 Jun 2013 13:05:04 GMT

Once you know how to make your own pizza dough you'll never go back. Here's a step-by-step guide – and don't forget, you can't knead it too much

Angela Hartnett's lamb and aubergine with gremolata recipe

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 09:00:00 GMT

Lamb and aubergine are delicious together, but with mint and lemon added they taste even better

Some food marriages just work. Lamb and aubergine are a delicious combination to start with – but once you add mint and lemon, nothing tastes better.

(serves 4)

8 lamb chops
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1 tbsp of chopped mint
1 tbsp of chopped flat-leaf parsley
Rind of 1 lemon
½ tsp English mustard
150ml olive oil
100g feta cheese, crumbled
1 small aubergine, sliced lengthways

Season the lamb chops, place them in a large tray under a hot grill, for three or four minutes on each side, making sure the fat renders down to become nice and crispy.

Meanwhile, mix the garlic, lemon rind, mint, parsley and mustard with about four tablespoons of oil.

Remove the lamb chops and rest them somewhere warm.

Add the rest of the oil to the grill pan. Season the aubergine and grill on medium for a few minutes either side until soft (if necessary, give them a couple of minutes in the oven at 180C).

Place the chops and aubergine on a serving dish, scatter the feta on the aubergine, then spoon the mint and parsley dressing over the whole dish.

• Angela Hartnett is chef patron at Murano restaurant and consults at the Whitechapel Gallery and Dining Room, London.

Twitter.com/angelahartnett

Junk food still marketed to children as companies bypass rules

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 01:02:00 GMT

Clampdown on marketing to British children through TV advertising is not enough to protect them, says WHO report

Food companies are accused on Tuesday by the World Health Organisation, the public health arm of the UN, of finding ways to bypass the rules on advertising unhealthy products to children and fuelling the obesity epidemic.

Attempts by the authorities in Britain to clamp down on marketing to children through television advertising are not enough to protect them, a major report by the WHO says. There are tough rules on advertising during children's TV programmes but not on shows such as ITV1's Britain's Got Talent and The X Factor, which research shows are widely watched by younger viewers.

Increasingly, food companies are also targeting children through computer games, mobile phones and social networks such as Facebook.

The WHO report calls for tighter regulation across the whole of Europe of the marketing to children of foods high in fat, salt and sugar.

"Millions of children across the region are being subjected to unacceptable marketing practices," said Zsuzsanna Jakab, regional director of WHO Europe. "Policy simply must catch up and address the reality of an obese childhood in the 21st century.

"Children are surrounded by adverts urging them to consume high fat, high sugar, high salt foods, even when they are in places where they should be protected, such as schools and sports facilities."

Britain has done more than some other European countries to guard children against advertising for unhealthy food, snacks and sweets, says the report, but it is not one of the six countries – Denmark, France, Norway, Slovenia, Spain and Sweden – that have fully implemented a European code on restricting marketing to children. There are, says the report, gaps and weaknesses in the UK regulations.

There are strict rules to prevent foods with high salt, fat and sugar content being advertised on TV during children's programmes, and the broadcasting regulator, Ofcom, said this reduced children's exposure to advertising for crisps, sugary drinks, fried chicken nuggets and the like by 37% between 2005 and 2009. But, says the report, there has been an overall increase in advertising for junk foods at other times of the day "and children continued to be exposed to HFSS (high fat, salt and sugar foods) advertising, especially during TV programmes between 6pm and 10.30pm".

This is what is called family viewing rather than children's TV.

According to the Children's Food Campaign, the TV programme most watched by four- to 15-year-olds is Britain's Got Talent, which airs from 8pm to 9pm, with more than 1 million child viewers. Next most watched by children are The X Factor and I'm a Celebrity. Commercials running during Britain's Got Talent typically include ones for fizzy drinks and chocolate.

The report says: "Overall these data suggest that despite full implementation of the regulation, children in the UK appear to be exposed to just as much food advertising as before full regulation."

Food companies are increasingly using the internet and mobile phones to interact with children. Online advertising overtook TV advertising in the UK in 2009. Data from 2011 shows that 65% of children aged between five and seven in the UK used the internet on computers in their home, which rose to 85% of children between eight and 11.

Advertisers are increasingly using social media sites such as Facebook and messaging services, which are popular with young people, says the report. Food companies have developed their own websites which are attractive to children, inviting them to become fans of the brand. There are no restrictions on the use of cartoon characters owned by a company to promote the products.

"Advergames" are increasingly popular, too. "Most major food companies have developed game-playing and fantasy video sites for young children," says the report. A Chewits site, for example, has an animated dinosaur seeking out sweets. Leaf International, which owns Chewit's, has said other parts of the website contain information on how the sweets should be consumed responsibly.

"Some sites offer videos or advertisements which, in countries such as Norway, Sweden and the UK, might be considered to be breaking the local regulations if the same advertisement were to be shown during children's TV," says the report.

Many children have mobile phones – one in eight aged eight to 11 and one in 50 aged five to seven in the UK own a smartphone.

Vending machines in schools are not allowed to contain junk food, but there are no restrictions on them in sports centres and other places children go, says the report. Food companies are allowed to sponsor events, such as the children's Amateur Swimming Association awards by Kellogg's and the Olympics, where Coca-Cola and McDonald's were big sponsors.

The British Heart Foundation said junk food marketing to children was a major concern. "Even if there's no junk food in your kitchen cupboards, you can guarantee unhealthy products are finding their way into your home," said Simon Gillespie, the BHF's chief executive.

"Every day, children are faced with adverts for foods that are high in fat, sugar and salt – through the TV, computer, their smartphone or in print.

"Restricting TV advertising has helped to limit ads on kids' programmes, but some of the shows most watched by children, such as the X-Factor, are still fair game. Weak online regulation also offers retailers loopholes to reach children through 'advergames', downloads and competitions.

"As it stands, nearly one in three children in the UK are classed as overweight or obese. We desperately need a system that protects our children from sophisticated marketing campaigns, and helps parents to close the door on junk food advertising."

The Advertising Association, a trade body, said: "Despite advertising's minimal role, there are strict content rules across all media in the UK to ensure food ads don't encourage unhealthy lifestyles – with an extra layer of protection for children. Effective self-regulation and a responsible industry will play important parts in helping to tackle obesity."

A Kellogg's spokesperson said it was completely aware of the impact of its business, "which is why [we] are responsible about how we market our products, particularly to kids in the UK.

"In fact, we think we've got a good story to tell. So, we have no kid-targeted websites for Coco Pops or Frosties and our Facebook pages are locked to anyone below 16 years old. And, our on-pack promotions are for things like free adult tickets to Alton Towers."

He added: "When you do see our advertising on kids TV, it is there because the products it is promoting meet the very strict regulations about what food can be advertised to children."

The company says that its partnership with the Amateur Swimming Association is one involving the corporate brand, Kellogg's, and there is no branding for products such as Coco Pops.

McDonalds reacted to concerns about involvement with the Olympics by insisting sponsorship was essential to the successful staging of the Games, while also announcing plans to launch campaigns focused on "activity toys" and vouchers for sports sessions.

A Coca-Cola spokesperson said the company "takes seriously its commitment to market responsibly across the globe, across all advertising media, and across all of our beverages". "Our worldwide responsible marketing policy states that we do not target any of our marketing messages on TV, radio, internet, mobile phone and product placement mediums where children under 12 make up more than 35% of the audience.

"Our sponsorship of sporting events highlights our commitment to making a positive difference in all the communities we serve. We care about people's well-being and want to make a positive difference in their lives, both physically and emotionally. We also aspire to help people lead active healthy lifestyles through the beverage options we produce, the nutritional information we provide and our support of programs that encourage active, healthy living.We sponsor more than 280 physical activity and nutrition education programs in more than 115 countries. We are also the longest, continuous standing partner of one of the largest sports platforms in the world, the Olympic Games – proof of our commitment to using the power of our brands to encourage more people to become active through sport."

Rick Stein's India; The Borgias – TV review

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 06:00:08 GMT

What gave Rick Stein the idea that he was the man to reclaim Indian curry? And why hasn't he heard of Kolkata?

• Rick Stein's India on iPlayer

Last week, Brian Sewell complained that the BBC's factual programming was all travelogues fronted by celebs. Cue Rick Stein's India (BBC2), which opened with a couple of obligatory elephant shots, before cutting to a luxury houseboat where one servant was performing a headstand while another was playing the flute as the dawn rose on a picture-perfect lagoon. This was Rick's base from which he would explore the country and return to cook some of the dishes he picked up on his travels. Nice work if you can get it. For about the first time ever, I found myself in total agreement with Sewell.

Stein's self-appointed mission was to reclaim the reputation of the Indian curry from all those who thought it was just a prawn vindaloo to be washed down with three pints of lager. I'm not sure if there's much overlap between those who really do think the prawn vindaloo is the be-all-and-end-all of Indian cuisine and Stein's TV audience, but what became less clear the longer the programme went on was why Stein thought he was the right man to do it; he is best known for his seafood restaurants in Padstow and hasn't previously appeared to give India or its food much of a thought before he turned up there with a camera crew. He seemed especially surprised to find that Calcutta was now called Kolkata and that Madras was now Chennai.

"I hope you don't mind if I bring this up," Stein asked one of his food guides in Kolkata, "but do you find it offensive that the British refer to all Indian food as curry?" The guide said he was very glad that Stein had brought this up as Indians did find the generic name a little offensive. Whereupon Stein went on to refer to almost every dish as curry to keep things simple.

This apart, Stein was a hyper-enthusiastic traveller as he sampled both the street and restaurant food with a breathless commentary that included gems such as "plumptious prawns" and "mustard seeds are cases that encase …" He wasn't, though, a particularly challenging observer: neither his statement that "the most interesting thing about India is curry, first, second and last" nor his conclusion that all the poor people in Kolkata looked really happy were opinions that might be universally held.

Nor was he so interested in the cooking styles he learned that he could be bothered to attempt them back on the houseboat. Rather than experimenting with local culinary traditions – the women in the refuge added vinegar to their curry – and exploring different tastes, Stein chose to make his own versions of their recipes. So rather than serve up anything authentically Indian, Stein delivered food that had been adjusted for western tastes and which might be found at an Indian theme night at one of his Cornwall restaurants. Still, neither Sewell nor I can say we weren't warned: the programme was called Rick Stein's India, and that's what we got.

"There's treason afoot. Best keep your eyes open," said an extra employed to cart the most recent mound of stiffs away from the Vatican toward the end of The Borgias (Sky Atlantic), which began its third and final series. The advice was well-meant, but unhelpful. I had my eyes open throughout and I'm still not sure I followed everything that was going on: mainly because almost every scene was filmed in the near dark. This was a more convincing setting than that for Sunday's The White Queen (BBC1) – a comic hybrid of a Persil advert and a Vogue photo shoot for Tudor-boho chic, but one more conducive to playing murder in the dark than exposition: there are enough killings in the programme as it is, without having to worry if a character has been whacked by accident.

Still, if you've stayed with The Borgias for this long, you probably aren't too worried about keeping up with the plot as you got the basics long ago. Trust no one. Alliances made one minute can be toast the next, so just enjoy the ride. Last night's season opener took a while to get going as the first 25 minutes was taken up with the non-event of "would Pope Alexander VI [Jeremy Irons] survive the poisoning cliffhanger that ended the second season?" Once Irons had vomited theatrically, the mayhem was free to restart. He might take himself a wee bit seriously and his personal views may be decidedly dodgy, but I'd watch Jeremy in The Borgias rather than his son, Max, in The White Queen any day. Even though I can't always see him.

• Watch this: TV highlights

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Nigel Slater's penne with marinated anchovies recipe

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 11:07:01 GMT

A crisp and piquant light summer lunch

The recipe

Boil 150g of mini penne pasta until al dente, then drain. In a large nonstick pan, cook a couple of handful of breadcrumbs in a little olive oil until golden, then remove. Add 50g of butter, a chopped red chilli and then, 30 seconds later, the juice of half a lemon. Add 100g of marinated anchovy fillets, a large handful of roughly chopped parsley and then the browned breadcrumbs and drained penne. Toss briefly. Serves 2.

The trick

Marinated anchovies are the pale, silvery fillets you can buy from the deli counter or in a jar. They add piquancy rather than the simple salty hit of a classic little brown anchovy fillet in oil. Look out for mini penne, like the large tube pasta we know so well, but more appropriate here because of its diminutive size.

The twist

Serious anchovy lovers should try anchovy fillets bottled in oil. Or, back with the marinated anchovies, toss them with stoned and chopped black olives, red and yellow cherry tomatoes, mozzarella, leaves broken from a tight little gem lettuce. Blitz a couple of large handfuls of basil leaves in 4 tbsp of olive oil, then warm in a frying pan. Add small chunks of torn-up ciabatta or baguette to the pan, letting them soak up the basil oil as they crisp. Toss them over the salad with a glug or two of olive oil.

Email Nigel at nigel.slater@observer.co.uk

How to make banana bread - Bondi Harvest video recipe

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 23:56:00 GMT

Chef Guy Turland introduces us a naughty but nice australian breakfast institution. Banana bread is everywhere, so here's the secret to making a loaf to be proud of

The future of food: insects, GM rice and edible packaging are on the menu

Sat, 15 Jun 2013 23:01:14 GMT

As the global population rises and food prices do too, many scientists are looking for alternatives to traditional foodstuffs

Eating insects

Two billion people around the world, primarily in south-east Asia and Africa, eat insects – locusts, grasshoppers, spiders, wasps, ants – on a regular basis. Now, with food scarcity a growing threat, efforts are being made to normalise the concept of entomophagy, or the consumption of insects, for the other 5 billion. Last year, the UN's Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO) published a list of more than 1,900 edible species of insects; the EU, meanwhile, offered its member states $3m to research the use of insects in cooking.

Why? Because insects, compared to livestock and fish, are a much more sustainable food source. They are available in abundance: for every human on Earth, there are 40 tonnes of insects. They have a higher food conversion rate than even our fastest-growing livestock (meaning they need to consume less to produce the same amount of meat) and they emit fewer greenhouse gases. As a fast-food option, which is how people treat them in countries such as Thailand, insects are greatly preferable to the water-guzzling, rainforest-destroying, methane-spewing beefburger. They are nutritious too: rich in protein, low in fat and cholesterol, high in calcium and iron.

That leaves the issue of palatability. Insects are generally viewed with disgust in the west, but attitudes are beginning to change. Thanks to adventurous restaurants – Copenhagen's Noma has served up ants and fermented grasshoppers – and pioneering organisations such as Ento in London, we are coming to terms with the notion that insects might actually be nice to eat.

Edible packaging

Our current food system is monumentally wasteful. Last January, a report found that almost half of the world's food is thrown away each year. In the UK alone, according to the government's waste adviser, Wrap, we generate 6.6m tonnes of food, drink and packaging waste per annum, at a cost of £5bn.

The fight against waste has thrown up some intriguing solutions.

For Harvard bioengineer David Edwards, the answer to the packaging problem is simple: just eat it. Last year, Edwards launched WikiCells, a company that makes edible packaging for fruit juices, coffee, ice cream and other products. Mimicking the design of a piece of fruit, the packaging consists of a soft skin "entirely comprised of natural food particles held together by nutritive ions" encased in a protective outer layer that is edible or at least biodegradable. Not only are the membranes more environmentally friendly than plastic, they are designed to taste good too.

Other packaging innovations promise to lengthen the shelf life of perishables, which would mean a reduction in food and drink waste. Pepceuticals, a company based in Leicester, is developing an antimicrobial film that it claims "should significantly prevent the deterioration of … fresh meat and save waste".

Food replacement and eco-food innovation

One of the hottest trends attracting investors' in Silicon Valley has a lot to do with our future eating habits. A growing number of young entrepreneurs, driven by ecological as well as profit motives, are seeking to replace resource-hungry foods such as meat with synthetic and plant-based alternatives – and the likes of Twitter founders Evan Williams and Biz Stone are giving them financial support.

Their motives are well-founded. With the global population expected to reach 9 billion by 2050, and as western eating habits spread to countries such as China and India, more efficient and environmentally friendly ways are needed to produce protein-rich foods. Imitation meat is not a new concept, but Bay Area innovators, such as Beyond Meat, are making a chicken substitute good enough, they claim, to compete with the real thing. Meanwhile, Hampton Creek Foods, founded by 32-year-old entrepreneur Josh Tetrick, is working on a plant-based replacement for egg yolks to go in muffins, mayonnaise and other sauces.

Augmented-reality kitchens

As the popularity of programmes such as MasterChef and Great British Menu indicates, we have become a nation of food enthusiasts. For every budding culinary genius among us, however, there will always be a kitchen klutz who bungles the recipe and burns everything to cinders. What we need, in the view of Japanese computer scientist Yu Suzuki at Kyoto Sangyo University, is a helping hand from technology. Going several steps further than the online how-to video, Suzuki and colleagues have kitted out a kitchen with ceiling-mounted cameras and projectors that overlay cooking instructions on the ingredients. Detecting the outline of a fish, for example, Suzuki's system will help you fillet it by highlighting where an incision needs to be made.

Meanwhile, Jinna Lei, a computer scientist at the University of Washington, is developing a system that uses depth-sensing cameras to keep track of what the cook is doing. When a mistake is made, the system will prompt the cook to make amends.

While this may sound like good news, some critics believe these innovations will also minimise the basic joys of cooking. Technology writer Evgeny Morozov says: "Such standardisation can make our kitchens as exciting as McDonald's franchises."

Enhanced rice

Thirty years ago, scientists announced the creation of the world's first genetically modified plant. The new technology, it was hoped, would increase crop yields worldwide and ease global malnutrition. Since then, the fortunes of GM food have been decidedly mixed. Its uptake has been limited to just a few countries and many of its promises – including, more recently, the hope that GM crops would help reduce climate change emissions – have yet to be realised.

But in spite of continuing resistance to GM food among environmentalists and those wary of the corporations that control it, breakthroughs are expected.

Next year, it is hoped that golden rice – normal rice modified to produce beta-carotene, which the body converts into vitamin A – will be planted by farmers in the Philippines. If successful, golden rice will help counter blindness and other diseases in children in the developing world.

Meanwhile, another series of enhanced rice varieties is being developed using only conventional plant-breeding techniques. Zhikang Li, the Chinese plant breeder behind green super rice, which produces more grain while proving more resistant to droughts, floods and disease, hopes that his innovation will feed an extra 100 million people.

Andoni Aduriz, Morgaine Gaye, Charles Spence and Mike Knowlden will demonstrate ideas of food futures and "techno-emotional cuisine" at the Sunday afternoon session of FutureFest on 29 September

Food aversions: why they occur and how you can tackle them

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 09:06:00 GMT

We reject certain foods for a reason, and by finding out why, we can try to overcome the aversion. Have you ever trained yourself out of a food hatred?

Like favourite childhood scars, food aversions are deeply personal, often come with a backstory, and are ripe for comparing with others. This is classic ice-breaking conversation territory in the west, where there is no shortage of foods to happily loathe without risk of malnutrition. When I was little, being the only one in nursery who didn't partake in the free milk (yuck!) made me feel special. Taking refuge under my aunt's dining table, during a particularly smelly cheese course, gained me so much attention that the event has become family lore.

Nowadays, I'm ashamed of my childish rejection of certain foods and have been working on beating them. But I take reassurance from the fact that most people can drum up at least one item they won't eat. Fresh celery is the "devil's weed" to Guardian restaurant critic Marina O'Loughlin . And even Angela Hartnett can't stand coriander and desiccated coconut.

Whys and wherefores

Part of the fun of food-aversions chat is trying to explain them. People sometimes deduce that I'm allergic to dairy but I can eat cheese and the likes of gooseberry fool until, ahem, the cows come home. To get to the bottom of it, I call the psychology professor who has all the answers in this field, Paul Rozin of the University of Pennsylvania. Only, it turns out that, as far as most idiosyncratic aversions are concerned (the commonest type of food dislike), there are no answers.

Rozin and Jane Kauer, also of Pennsylvania University, are working on a paper that involved surveying nearly 500 people about their hatred of, say, raw tomatoes or white foods. Most had no idea what sparked these aversions, but they tended to have started in childhood.

Very few innate aversions do the rounds. So-called supertasters are oversensitive to bitter and some other tastes. And Hartnett has probably inherited the OR6A2 or "coriander-hating" olfactory gene. But it is possible to train ourselves out of these. Rozin himself, who is not immune to the joys of sharing food foibles, is "hypersensitive to bitter, so I can't drink coffee, but I love dark chocolate. It's sort of weird." It has taken him 20 years of concerted effort to appreciate beer, "but it is bitter", he winces.

Some people (especially kids) are simply more food neophobic – less accepting of new tastes – than others. "We can measure that," says Rozin. But otherwise, flavour preferences are learned. One of the secrets of homo sapiens' success is that we're naturally omnivorous. We can get nutrition from many sources.

The best-known reason we become averse to foods is as a result of them making us sick. (Although this doesn't explain most quirky food hates, says Rozin.) It's not a conscious thing; brains do it to protect us from further poisoning. But they can get it wrong. If you eat something new – say sea urchin – the same day some bacteria in your regular salad get the better of you, your brain will probably choose sea urchin over salad as its new nausea trigger.

It's a powerful process. If you nibble your favourite comfort food when you've got flu, you could unwittingly be programming yourself to go off said food. For this reason, people are often advised to lay off beloved foods when undergoing chemotherapy.

That said, these aversions can be reversed, especially if the culprit is something you've eaten many times before with no ill effects.

Learning to love thine enemy

When the American food writer, Jeffrey Steingarten, switched careers from law to gastronomy, he felt duty-bound to overcome his many food-hates, which included anchovies, kimchi and Greek food (yes an entire national cuisine). He simply ate and ate and ate these foods until his prejudiced palate relented.

There is a well-documented psychological phenomenon whereby "mere exposure" to anything results in an increased liking for it. But when it comes to food, there's also a physiological reason why familiarity increases preference. A study published last month by Dana Small of Yale University has demonstrated this for the first time in humans. "When you ingest something," says Small, "all these hormones are released. Your blood glucose changes, you've all these metabolic effects that are critical for changing the brain's representation of flavour. If you experience a novel flavour and experience positive post-ingestive effects, then the next time you ingest that flavour you'll find it better and will be more likely to eat more of it."

Happiness makes food taste better

Never underestimate the positive effects of mood and circumstance. Surely I'm not the only one who has recoiled at the thin, tart-yet-deliciously-cheap local wine on the first night of a holiday, only to be basking in glass upon glass by the end. Exposure + good times = love. Then there was when I met the brother I never knew I had for the first time. He cooked his favourite pasta dish, with about 1,000 olives. I despised olives, but so delicate was the situation that I couldn't possibly let on. By the end of the meal, I bloody loved olives.

The third way

Steve Tromans uses a combination of hypnotherapy and neuro-linguistic programming to treat people with extreme aversions, his modus operandi is to get his clients to think the same way as someone who can eat the food in question. "I saw a woman recently," he says, "who had only eaten chips, white bread, strawberry jam, nuggets and burgers since the age of three." She had nearly choked to death around that age.

This woman was asked to imagine eating a piece of orange. Impossible, she said. He then asked her to close her eyes and imagine someone across the room eating it. They named her Barb, and she looked just like the client. Tromans suggested other "camera angles" from which to picture this eating – and before the client knew it, she had a Barb's-eye view. "I thought, I'm going to carry on doing this until she realises she is imagining eating it," says Tromans. "By the end of the session she could eat nine different fruits."

I recently bit the bullet and sipped some milk to find I didn't even dislike the taste. I still don't like the idea of it, though. Next, I upped the ante with some feta cheese. I got some quality stuff that lacked that rancid punch, and by day three the goaty aftertaste was becoming quite acceptable. Easy. The main challenge is finding the time and inclination to eat stuff you don't fancy. Have you trained yourself out of a food hatred? How did you do it?

How to make the perfect sangria

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 11:47:00 GMT

Is sangria a holiday thirstquencher or drink of el diablo? What do you put in yours, and if you're not a fan, do any other summer punches hit the spot?

When my editor suggested sangria for the column, I had a flashback to a Spanish holiday spent with a schoolfriend when I was about 14. After her parents had gone to bed, we climbed out of a window, and reached an agreement with her elder brother at the nearby bar: buy us a couple of jugs of sangria, and you won't see us for the rest of the evening. I will draw a veil over the rest, except to say that Kingsley Amis clearly wasn't thinking of teenage girls when he described sangria as "cheap, easy to make up and pretty harmless – so that you can drink a lot of it without falling down".

Even today, it's a combination that screams headache to me. But, professional to the tips of my espadrilles, I gamely agreed to address my fear head on, and spend a Saturday evening drinking sangria. (The things I do for this column!)

Preliminary research revealed that, though no doubt there are unscrupulous bars that use it as a handy way to dispose of stale wine, sangria has a more sophisticated side, hitherto unknown to me – I found a Basque version infused with spice and juniper berries, and a white sangria flavoured with albarino and sake. But there's no getting around the issue: I'm going to have to give the classic blood-red one a whirl, and hope for the best.

The wine

Obviously the most important aspect of any wine-based cocktail – which is to say, don't seize the opportunity to use up that half bottle of cooking wine that's been hanging around the hob for a month. Conversely, Larousse Cocktails' specification of rioja seems a bit OTT – the cheapest bottle I can find is over £6, and once everything else is added, no one can tell it from the "cheap Spanish red" called for by Victoria Moore in How to Drink.

That turns out to be garnacha, as specified by Frank Camorra of Melbourne restaurant MoVida, which works perfectly well in all the recipes – indeed anything dry, red, relatively full-bodied and halfway drinkable will do.

You can stop there if you like, but, after trying a recipe from New York's Pata Negra (frequented by Deb Perelman of the superlative blog Smitten Kitchen), I'm adding some chilled, fruity Spanish rose as well: it brings a deliciously refreshing note to what, after all, is very much a hot weather drink.

The hard stuff

Innocent that I am, it came as something of a surprise that sangria was spiked with stronger alcohols. There's a bewildering range of options, but brandy, whether Spanish, or French (trust Larousse) seems to be a given.

Vodka, as used by Dale DeGroff ("widely acknowledged to be the world's greatest living bartender" according to the jacket of his excellent book, The Craft of the Cocktail) seems like booze for booze's sake (as does the gin in Moore's recipe), but I like the orange curacao he deploys.

In fact, orange-flavoured spirits are a popular choice, used by Larousse, Moore and MoVida, which makes sense, as sangria often includes oranges in some form and they're a classic pairing with red wine in recipes like duck a l'orange and, of course, mulled wine.

MoVida also adds a sweet Spanish liqueur by the name of Licor 43; the name is apparently a boast about the number of herbs used in the recipe, but according to DeGroff, the predominant flavour is vanilla. I'm not keen on it, Spanish or not, but I do like its sweetness – something echoed by Moore's fortified wine: marsala, madeira or malaga will all do. The madeira I go for blends in better than the Licor 43, adding a rich, honeyed sweetness far more delicious than the boring old sugar used in the other recipes.

Moore, who says she got her recipe "passed over the fence" by her parents' late next-door neighbour, who had collected it from a Marbella restaurant in the 1980s, also adds golden rum and red vermouth. Unsurprisingly, she says, said neighbour was never short of barbecue invitations, although I do wonder how safe it would be to combine such a concoction with naked flames. It definitely has some poke, but I think these ingredients are what might be termed "optional extras". Like sparklers, and paper parasols, say.

Mixers

Orange juice, of course, is quite popular: Larousse and DeGroff both add it, but I think his muddled fresh fruit adds a much fresher, zestier acidity to the jug. He also uses grape juice, but as I've already lost my heart to Moore's fortified wine, I won't be needing any.

Unless you want to be under the table before sunset, you'll need something to dilute this heady mixture. Soda water, as used by DeGross and Larousse, does the job rather too well: the sangria tastes muted. Moore uses lemonade but best of all is the orangeade deployed by Pata Negra and MoVida – the New Yorkers recommend "a less sweet brand such as the Spanish KAS or San Pellegrino aranciata, or use Fanta". The Italian aranciata I find has a more sophisticated, bitter edge than your average fizzy orange drink, while giving the sangria a fruitier, richer flavour than straight sparkling water.

Fruit, spices and sweeteners

Thanks to the orangeade and the fortified wine, there's no need to add any extra sugar as Pata Negra, Larousse and DeGroff do.

It does help, if time permits, to let the base ingredients mingle for an hour or so before adding the fruit and orangeade – Larousse and MoVida stick in a cinnamon stick, which is a nice idea, if you don't mind your sangria tasting ever so slightly like cold mulled wine. I'd prefer to keep the flavours rather fresher.

Apart from the muddled oranges, fruit should, I think, be seasonal – and in small enough chunks to be eaten, because one of the joys of sangria is the big juicy mouthful of alcoholic fruit lurking at the bottom of the glass. MoVida use plums, which would be lovely later in the summer, but for now I'd go for strawberries, peaches or anything else you can find going cheap. Basically, when it comes to sangria, the more the merrier.

Perfect sangria

1 orange, sliced
1 bottle of cheap but nice Spanish red
400ml Spanish rose
50ml brandy
50ml marsala, madeira or malaga
Seasonal fruit, to finish
500ml orangeade, preferably of the less sweet variety, chilled
Ice

Put the orange slices in the bottom of a large jug or bowl, and muddle, or squash, using a wooden spoon or similar. Add the wines and spirits, cover, and leave in the fridge to get to know each other for at least an hour.

Add the fruit and, if your jug is large enough, the orangeade, and serve over ice. If not, serve the orangeade separately, for people to top up with (which runs the risk of being left with lots of mixers, and some very drunk guests).

Sangria: holiday thirstquencher or drink of el diablo? What do you put in yours, and if you're not a fan, do any other summer punches hit the spot?

A guide to tipping in restaurants

Mon, 17 Jun 2013 17:42:44 GMT

Tipping etiquette can be a nightmare, especially on holiday. A waiter tells you how not to be hounded out after your meal

What should we make of the £50 tip David Cameron supposedly left in Pizza Express? After years of working in restaurants, I have to say, £50 is a big tip. Both to give and receive. And if he was in the Jazz Club bit of Pizza Express in Dean Street, which it looks like he was, there was service charge on that bill as well.

Leaving a tip equal to the bill could be seen as a little ostentatious. It could be construed as a PR stunt. An over-the-top gesture to make up for the last tipping disaster in Tuscany, perhaps?

To be fair to the PM, on his Tuscan jaunt, holiday tipping etiquette can be an unparalleled nightmare. When to tip and when not to tip? If you should, then how much? We're British, we wouldn't want to cause offence abroad right? So herewith, for Cameron and anyone else in need, a waiter's guide to tipping:

Where don't you tip?

In Japan, it just isn't done . Because of a tip's nature as a gift or a favour, it can be perceived as an implication of servility. The price is the price. End of story.

Where do you tip?

Everywhere else.

Even in France and Australia, where service is included in the prices, it is never embarrassing to leave a tip on the table. In fact, in countries where it isn't required it's all the more appreciated. As a waiter, I find it hard to imagine anyone being upset with extra cash.

Same goes in places with service charges – everywhere from Britain to the Philippines. The service means that you should never feel obliged to tip, that money (should) be given to the staff. And if you have any worries, get it taken off the bill and leave cash instead. But do note: in restaurants where people are well paid, the service charge will often be shared with the kitchen staff as well – which is a good thing, helping everyone earn a bit more.

How much do you tip?

The standard service charge is 12.5% of the bill in Britain, certainly in London. And 10% still seems to be accepted in places not charging for service. In North America, less than 20% can get you in trouble. There are stories of people being hounded out of restaurants for tipping 10%, which quite frankly is terrifying. If the wages are so low and people are that desperate, why don't restaurants add a service charge as Thomas Keller's Per Se and French Laundry do?

At the upper level? Quite frankly, there's never too much. If you're worried about leaving too much, you're my favourite type of customer. Say what you want about Cameron's tip being over the top, but whoever got it probably ended their night smashing tequilas and drinking beer at El Camion with the rest of Soho's restaurant staff.

But – and this is important – if you're leaving a good tip, don't make a big song and dance about it, expecting the waiter to fawn over you while your guests look on adoringly. Do it discreetly and enjoy the feelgood factor inside instead.

Whatever else you do, don't be one of the keep-the-change crowd. I serve them all the time, and it makes me want to kill people. I had a table recently who I'd gone to all sorts of trouble with: gone through the menu with the vegan, the coeliac and the person who doesn't like onions. I got the kitchen to alter dishes for the child at the table and gave them samples of six wines. They paid in cash, and as I approached with the change, the matriarch put her hand round mine and said: "Don't worry about that, you've been great. Keep it." I opened my hand – 16p.

And don't use money to beg forgiveness. This is a classic tactic of the business chump, desperate to look important in front of guests. Cold and cruel throughout the meal, this customer can be found dismissing the waiter with waves of the hand and maintaining a lack of eye contact. Then, when the guests have left, a distinct warming up and two crisp 20s left on the table. I'll take the money, but it isn't nice – and it makes me feel sullied and cheap.

When shouldn't you tip?

When the service really isn't worth what they're charging – asking for things that never arrive and old fashioned nonchalance are the worst of the worst. As long as someone is trying, I tend to be very forgiving. What many people think of as "slow service" is often more the kitchen's fault than the waiter's. And plates left on the table can be an attempt to disguise the impending 40-minute wait for the next course.

If I feel that a restaurant simply isn't run well enough to allow the waiter to do their job, I normally pay the service or leave a tip and never go back. Which, now I say it, sounds very British.

So, tipping, how do you do yours?

Technology that traced Osama bin Laden now used to extend life of cakes

Mon, 17 Jun 2013 21:40:47 GMT

Hyperspectral imaging to be employed to study deterioration of sponges and cupcakes and prolong their shelf life

It took 10 years and an elite unit from America's navy seals to hunt down Osama bin Laden. Now the technology used to track the most elusive terrorist in history is at the centre of another top mission to help to enhance the life of cakes in British bakeries.

Strathclyde University has been awarded a grant to examine how the imaging used on the helicopters that surrounded Bin Laden's Pakistan compound in 2011 might be used to perfect cupcakes, Victoria sponges and a host of other staples of the British diet.

They are working with a British food company, Lightbody, to try to accurately plot the deterioration of a cake and formulate a recipe with the best fat, sugar and liquid proportions for taste and shelf life.

"With hyperspectral imaging, you can tell the chemical content of a cake just by taking a photo of it. That allows the baker to optimise the process for shelf life and taste. It tells you what's going on, how the sugars are breaking down, how the fats are breaking down. If bakers can get the formula right, they can extend the shelf life and sell their cakes further afield," said Stephen Marshall, professor of image processing at the university.

In a military context, hyperspectral imaging captures hundreds of values in the electromagnetic spectrum which enable scientists to identify objects without sending them to a laboratory.

A hi-tech snapshot creates an electromagnetic "fingerprint" of the objects which can be used to identify minerals, crop disease, and movements of people and vehicles under military surveillance.

In the hunt for Bin Laden, it would have identified movements of people and vehicles simply by capturing changes in the grounds surrounding the terrorist's compound.

Strathclyde and Lightbody received a grant of £25,000 from the Interface Food & Drink, a Scottish fund designed to forge links between business developers and academic research.

Howell Davies of Interface said: "You can basically take a picture of something and analyse the product without taking it away for testing in a lab. You can see things that you can't see with the human eye."