Piedmont Peppers

A late veggie supper

Over lunching and other confessions

One day last week for reasons I'm not sure about today. I over lunched on steak and onion sandwiches, so much so it was late evening before I was ready to eat again. The chicken thighs destined to be a 'coconutty' curry didn't really appeal after the carnivore excesses earlier in the day and were left in the fridge. A rummage in the veg rack exposed a shapely red pepper and half a dozen or so small tomatoes still clinging to their vine. Bring on the olive oil and garlic!

Piedmont style roast peppers were the order of the moment.

Every food writer, restaurateur and chef worth their Maldon flakes (one of the few good things to come out of Essex) have sung the praises of this classic since Elizabeth David first brought it to the worlds attention nearly sixty years ago in her book Italian Cooking. Though I don't in anyway class my opinion to be on par with the great Smith's, Taruschio,s, Hopkinson's and Slater's of this world I feel I must also add my endorsement - Piedmont roasted peppers are possibly the closest you can get to a perfect dish. Simple to prepare, six ingredients (even if you include the olive oil and bread to mop up the lovely juices) it is simply superb. Praise indeed from a flesh eater like me, although I do have reservations about the anchovy but more about that later.

In varying quantities and using different peppers and tomatoes this little beauty can be served up as everything from tapas, lunch ,swanky starter, accompaniment (I particularly like it with lamb chops) and in this case supper. So how do we go about creating this meat free master piece – by the way, I recently heard an article on Radio 4's Today program in which John Humphries and John Rentoul of The Independent bemoaned the use of the word 'so' to start a sentence.

So here goes then... The pepper must be red, you may, just about get away with those yellow or orange ones but the green ones are definitely a no no here. If you are trying to impress you could use those long slender Romano's or even, if you can get them the little Spanish Piquillo. I suppose if you were making tapas this one would be the one of choice. Apparently Piquillo means "little beak". How brilliantly descriptive, why do other nations have such a way with words? I know bell pepper could be considered equally descriptive of our standard supermarket capsicum, except of course they do tend to come in all sorts of lop sided shapes (an issue we must discuss) but it doesn't exude the same love and passion. “Little beak”, makes me smile.

So back to the choice of pepper, fancying up aside, the standard bell pepper is the one I prefer if only because the shape and size gives you a nice deep container to stuff with tomato and hold the olive oil. However as previously mentioned these peppers come in all sorts of odd shapes. So select your pepper with care. I like to go for a symmetrical squarish pepper and test it on a flat surface to see if it sits nicely on its side, turning it over to test the other side. This is important, so take your time and ignore any funny looks you may get. I was once approached by a member of staff in a local supermarket while squatting down and squinting at four or five peppers I'd sat on their ends and lined up, looking for a couple that would be suitable for stuffing from the top. The lady was very understanding and helpful. Whether she got some mileage out of the encounter in the staff canteen later I will never know.

So we have our peppers, what about our tomatoes. Well flavour and sweetness are key here and I find smaller tomatoes tend to match this criteria and also pack better into the peppers. I always skin my tomatoes for this dish, in fact I seem to be skinning my tomatoes for most things at the moment. There is something very satisfying about poring boiling water from a kettle onto a bowl of tomatoes and watching the skins splitting ready to be slipped off, even if sometimes you need to encourage the tough ones with a quick jab from the point of a knife.

So lets do a bit of an assembly job and get these beauties into the oven. Identify the sides of your pepper you are going to sit them on and cut down through the stalk, trying to keep the two halves as equal as possible. Remove the seeds and the white core but keep the stalk on. Although totally indigestible it helps the pepper keep its shape in the oven. Place in an oven proof dish cut side up and scatter a few thin slivers of garlic in each. I like to put the garlic in the bottom of the pepper for it to soften and flavour the tomato juices as they cook as opposed to trying to tuck bits in later which inevitably means some will remain exposed to become burnt to a crunchy bitterness. Sprinkle a few salt flakes in with the garlic before adding the tomatoes. Depending on the size of your toms halve or quarter them so you can pack them into the peppers, squeezing them up into the shoulders around the stalk. If you have tomatoes over when your peppers are stuffed to bursting just halve them, slip a sliver or two of garlic between the seeds and flesh and sit them cut side up in the dish alongside the peppers. Now drizzle a little olive oil on the extra tomatoes and lot and lots of oil onto and into the peppers. A decent fruity olive oil is good here as you will find out later. Sprinkle with a little more salt and a grind or two of black pepper before sliding the dish into an oven that has been preheated to 180/200ish. Give it about an hour or until the peppers and tomatoes are soft, squidgy and just starting to char.

So an hour and a bit later the roasting is done and the peppers have been left to cool down a bit, some say they should be left to cool to room temperature but I'm not that patient. Lets get tucking in. Serve up the pepper and any spare tomatoes. Top with a leaf or two of basil if you happen to have some to hand and spoon over ALL the lovely olive oily juices from the baking dish. These will ooze over the plate as soon as you cut into the pepper. Perfect for mopping up with chunks of crusty bread or in this case the thick slices left over from the lunchtime steak sandwiches. I'm not too proud to admit, in the privacy of my own home I have on occasions finished off this juice by laying a slice of Chorleywood process ready sliced into the juice and eating it with a knife and fork. Told you to use a good olive oil didn't I and while we are in confession mode I like to have a glass of the red with this dish which for some reason is better if drunk from a short glass tumbler rather than a stemmed wine glass. It just seems to add a wonderful touch of rusticity. If I was totally honest my tumblers are actually pots from a long gone yoghurt maker, but I like them.

So what about the anchovies? Although I'm a great fan of anchovies (I can eat them straight from the jar till my kidneys scream), and I like to add their unami taste enhancing properties to other dishes in much the same way I like to add cheddar to beef and ale pie. I have to say I'm not a fan of them in this dish. I blame Simon Hopkinson for this, he adds a couple of the little salty fillets after cooking. I tried this and it's not for me. I notice Delia and others tuck theirs (anchovies that is) between the tomatoes along with the basil before cooking, perhaps that is the way to go. Nigel doesn’t go down the anchovy route but goes for a drizzle of basil oil before serving which sounds good to me. One of his other suggestions is to replace the anchovy with capers. Now that also has some appeal but in the interest of balance I must point out other alternatives are available.

So having just read through this blog before I hit the publish button I am quite please to say I've managed to start at least eight sentences with 'So' (always fancied myself as a bit of a rebel).

How do you feel about that Mr Humphries...