'Less Criminal Forms of Sin' : Sweet Potato and Coca-cola

Mark Twain once said, "New Orleans food is as delicious as the less criminal forms of sin."

And so there I was tethering on the precipice of leaving behind the grey skies of England, like so many other immigrants, for the unending sky of America. The youngest land in the world seemed to me the perfect place to escape the inevitable responsibility of adulthood – maybe I would get lost amongst the consumerist riffraff and emerge valueless and institutionali’z’ed by Capitalism. Ready for the amoral jobs that came a-knocking. Instead I found myself paralyzed in the ‘unbearable lightness of being’ that Nietzsche is always banging on about. The super-sized faces that looked down on me from a sea of billboards were all more photo-shopped than Cameron’s election poster. These strange, smooth, faultless, inhuman faces all wore the same ‘sell’ face. Smiling diligently without any emotion, wanting only to make you buy their product so that they could buy the products they want.

And in America ‘you get what you want,’ whether it’s a gift hand wrapped by a haggard speed freak with a nametag or another mortgage for a car. No one ever says no. Unless they want to. In this flux of free radicals I felt ungrounded, unsubstantial. Surrounded as I was by hot air, an infinity of meaningless images and booming voices pelting you with words like candy-coloured stones. I could not help but miss the gritty realism of England, where from the depths of recession has emerged those indefinable English attributes of having a ‘stiff upper lip’ while you ‘keep calm and carry on’. Rather than the American ethos of buying to make you happy, and if that doesn’t work, or you have no money, then drowning your sorrows in crystal meth. You only have to drive just outside LA to see the houses where they are doing a different type of cooking. Even worse for your teeth than sugar.

But America does have some soul, the illegitimate heir born before consumerism, procreated by unshakable spirit of America’s Black underbelly. You can find it down the drab streets in the parts of LA people tell you not to go to, the places where every glass surface is pock-marked with bullet holes but there’s a din inside, not coming from the TV. These are the homes where Soul Food is cooked and shared; comfort without a shiny price tag and a mind-numbing jingle. I escaped the desolate wasteland of calorie-free chemical-based non-food that rich America loves and ate unconscionable ribs, glistening in meaty juices and full to the barbequed brim with flavour, golden hush puppies and waffles & chicken. Whilst guys with impressive Afros complimented my funny accent and huge matriarchs bellowed orders in the kitchen. 

I have to agree with Mark Twain. The soul food was deep-fried, salty and mouth-wateringly rich but a hell of a lot less sinful than a Macdonald’s burger and Starbuck’s frappe with a side of exploitation.


Sweet Potato Jambalaya 


And so, here is my version of Jambalaya. A bastion of soul food and perfect for filling up on after a long day of dodging turbaned old men on skateboards, size 0 ghouls, obese MacDonald-mountains and ‘beautiful’ but vacuous people, made bug-eyed by their designer glasses.

Using sweet potato for the sauce rather than the usual tomato gives the dish additional richness and sweetness and balances out the salty chorizo perfectly. The celery also adds a aniseed note the compliments the prawns, and makes the dish taste beautifully fresh.

1 tbsp olive oil

1 large onion, chopped

1 medium cloves garlic, peeled

1 large green bell pepper, cored, seeded and chopped

6 celery stalks, diced

3 tbsp fresh Italian parsley

400g chorizo sausage, cut into 1/2-inch cubes

500g boneless, skinless chicken breast, diced

1 large bay leaf

1 tsp cayenne pepper

1 tbsp of Cajun spices

A couple of glugs of Tabasco

1 can (28 oz) diced tomatoes

1 sweet potato, boiled and blended until a smooth puree

300g cup brown rice, uncooked

150g prawns

1. Add oil to a large saucepan. Over medium heat, sauté onion, garlic, bell pepper and celery until onion is translucent.

2. Add the parsley, chorizo, chicken, bay leaf, and cayenne pepper. Stir often for 5 minutes.

3. Add tomatoes (with juice) and 2 cups cold water.

4. Add the rice and gently bring mixture to a boil.

5. Lower the heat and simmer, covered, 45 minutes or until rice is cooked and absorbs most of the liquid.

7. Stir in the sweet potato puree and then add the prawns and cook 5 minutes more. Remove bay leaf. Season to taste with Tabasco and salt.

Coca-cola Chocolate Cake


In America no one ever does anything by half’s, which is something I’m inclined to agree with when it comes to food. If you’re going to have chocolate cake have the richest, moistest chocolate cake you can, not a diluted healthy version - eewh! With added coco-cola this cake is devilishly sweet and tangy. Why not try it the American way just once?

I also discovered the American way of measurement in baking using Cups. It’s such a good way of cutting out the scales as middleman and saving on washing up. If you don’t have some measuring cups you can just used a regular sized cup and it shouldn’t upset the ratio too much. Just add more flour if the mixture ends up too wet or some more Coco Cola if its too dry.

2 cups self-rising flour

2 cups sugar

3 tablespoons cocoa

1 cup Coca-Cola

1 cup butter

2 eggs, beaten

1/2 cup buttermilk

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Frosting:

1/2 cup butter

1 tablespoon cocoa

6 tablespoons Coca-Cola

1 small box icing sugar,

1/2 cup chopped pecans

1. Grease and flour a large cake tin and set aside.

2. In a large bowl combine flour and sugar. In a saucepan combine the cocoa, Coca-Cola, and butter, bring to a boil. Combine the boiled mixture with the flour and sugar mixture.

3. In a separate bowl mix eggs, buttermilk, baking soda, and vanilla; add to the other mixture.

4. Pour into prepared pan and bake at 180 degrees for about 35 minutes, until firm in the middle.

5. Then make the frosting: In a saucepan, bring butter, cocoa, and Coca-Cola to a boil. Stir in the sugar and mix well. Stir in nuts.
6. Finally spread over the cake and serve with fresh oranges. 

Real World Porridge

And at last I have been forced to succumb to the food of the romanceless; oats. This staple of Scottish fare may have nourished many ginger man-mountains, and even my brother while living rough in Australia (don’t ask), but for me it is a symbol my generation’s lot. The world is not our oyster – it’s our bowl of porridge. Only Goldielocks would truly understand.

And we weren’t prepared for this. Being born in the eighties fostered a certain apathy and expectation of the boom to continue, of heaps of commodities and only so much time to consume them.


Instead it’s the end of the month and after rent and too many small luxuries, I have barely two pennies to rub together. Renting in central London comes at a hefty price and my job in media subsidizes its “take it up the ass” minimum wage only with free lubricant (booze). This cheap buyoff works like a charm in our binge-drinking nation. The memory enema that is booze is the only panacea we post-student hobos have. At least porridge lines the stomach.


But Britain redeems itself as I wander home through the corridors of my building; my nose is accosted with the beautiful Asian and Middle Eastern aromas that permeate its walls at dinnertime. Transparent sustenance maybe, but it invades me with nostalgia for travelling. Oscar Wilde once said that, “a man who lives within his means suffers from a lack of imagination” but I find that living within my meager means sparks mine.

And when faced with an uninspiring ingredient, my mind wanders to strange places to find inspiration - or not so strange, as in this case. I had a mind blank over oats. But then remembered some of the recipes people had divulged to me over the years, whether intentionally or not. From these people I found the spark for my inspiration that oats could not ignite. So here are their recipes, tweaked (made palatable) by me.

Smoked Mackerel with parsley porridge and pumpkin 

This is a very strange recipe, from a very strange girl. English, tall, aristocratic waith with long peroxide blonde hair puffed out like candyfloss. I met her of all places in China, on a lovely paid-for holiday for Oxbridge types, a scam in Chinese education-consumerism, but with good heart. You see if you put people passionate about learning in front of a group of eager students we cant help ourselves. We devised how to twist the lesson plans, from ‘super heroes’ to Nietzsche’s Ubermensch, ‘over man,’ unintentionally making the scam actually genuine. I’m not sure what the 16 year olds made of it…

Anyway, this is the only savory porridge recipe that’s ever been suggested to me. Most people would reel in horror at the mention of mackerel porridge, but I saw potential, from the unlikely tastebuds of one person who dared to really push the boundaries. I’ve challenged myself to somehow make it work. I believed it could, and it does. Smoked Mackerel is intense, with a deep fishy saltiness and creamy fattiness. It needs clean flavors to cut through its intensity, like fresh parsley and tart blackcurrants. I’ve rounded this dichotomy of flavors by serving it with peppery rocket and soothing pumpkin puree. A congee with a difference, which we actually tried in China and no one liked.

Parsley Butter

1 garlic clove

3 small shallots

2 tbsp butter

1 tsp of Dijon mustard

handful of rocket leaves

handful of fresh parsley

25g of cream cheese

1. Blend together all of the above ingredients until you have a smooth green coloured butter. Refrigerate.

2. place 40g (per person) of oats in a pan and cover with milk, simmer gently and when the porridge is nearly done add the parsely butter.

3. flash fry one smoked mackerel fillet per person.

4. Make a pumpkin puree by blending chunks of pumpkin with a pinch cumin and cayenne pepper to taste.

5. Assemble the three elements of the dish and serve.

Matcha tea, raspberry and chocolate motchis

Every so often I come across a certain type of person. Seemingly unexpected but oddly symptomatic of some deep discontent, or at least emo-style discontent. Any guesses? It’s people who love Japanese culture. And I mean love it. This love comes in varying degrees, from a love of karaoke, sushi and anime all the way to deep intellectual examination of its culture, usually starting at ‘the Art of War’ and ending as some enduring philosophical psyche stamp. Such a one was the guy who, before my eyes, managed to transform porridge into something like onigiri and motchi, with that same doughy, chewy texture. All he did was leave it in the microwave for too long. Although he still claims it was intentional. I’ll take it as a sign of fate, that something of himself imbued itself into the recipe with a slight of hand. I decided to use matcha tea in this recipe because of our many highly caffeinated adventures on the stuff. (seriously try it)

1.     Take a bowlful of porridge and put in as little water as possible to just cover it.

2.     Microwave for 1 min or until the porridge is very thick and sticky. Take spoonfuls of the mixture and use your hands to roll into balls.

3.     I then made a chocolate soup our of melted chocolate diluted with milk until the desired consistency and placed the porridge balls on top of it.

4.     I sprinkled them with sweetened matcha tea and served with raspberry jelly.

Orange and Chrysanthemum set porridge

This recipe is inspired by someone I have never met. One of those people you brush up against in the tide of life, but never see or know. A person made out of mediation on an object. In this case it was some used pots and pans I lifted from a bin. I’m not above a bit of freeganism when the time calls for it. I was living in a building surrounded by international students leaving this isle behind and discarding their debris. What was once practical necessities was now erroneous baggage, to be picked up by some other person in need. My whole kitchen was fitted out this way. I even found a huge unopened bag of chrysanthemum tea, which I’ve only ever had in china before. I knew this lightly floral and earthy scent would go well with porridge in a dessert, more sophisticated in reality than its humble ingredients would suggest.

750 ml milk

225 g oats

3 tbsp chrysanthemum tea 

150 g sugar

3 tbsp rose water

1.     Gently warm the milk in a medium-sized saucepan on the hob. 

2.     In a separate larger saucepan cook the porridge and chrysanthemum tea for about a minute, stirring until the oats become translucent. 

3.     Halfway through the cooking time, stir in the sugar and two leaves of gelatine. 

4.    Then remove the saucepan from the heat and add the rosewater. Leave to cool slightly. 

5.     Line four individual pudding moulds with cling film. Then carefully fill with the porridge mix, patting down to ensure there are no gaps. Cover with more cling film and chill until completely set - this should take about 2 hours. 

6.     To serve, carefully turn the puddings onto plates and decorate with some dried chrysanthemum petals and coulis.

And so, In an attempt to transform porridge into something more palatable, I’ve used all my innovation to take it’s earthy Scottish heritage and combine it with the flavors of more exotic places, where flavor isn’t somewhat ironic and may actually awaken your nose and taste buds from their salt & butter stupor.