Normally when I go to the Farmer’s Market in New Ferry on the second Saturday of the month the chicken I buy from the stall on the right hand side as you go in is roasted for Sunday lunch along with dirty potatoes and carrots and a vegetarian alternative. You will have seen pictures.I have done something different today.

One of my favourite cookbooks is Middle Eastern Food by Arto der Haroutunian. He was born in Syria but ended up in Manchester  with a chain of six restaurants and two hotels. The book takes in all the cooking of the region including recipes from Armenia, Arabia, Israel  and Iraq. I picked it up in Blackwells in Oxford and have never seen another copy.

As you might expect there are three methods set out for the cooking of rice including a detailed run through of the 14 steps an Iranian housewife must go through in order to make a proper bowl of chelo, crusty steamed rice.I will be following some of the steps this evening.

The chicken recipe is tashreeb dijaj whole chicken in a spicy sauce. Rub the chicken down with a quartered lime, then rub it down some more with a mixture of salt, pepper and tumeric. Your hands will be stained yellow. Heat butter in a large pan with a lid and brown the chicken. Addd a couple of chopped cloves of garlic, some split cardamon pods and two bay leaves. pour over a pint of water, bring to a simmer, put the lid on and let it cook on a low heat for an hour or so until done. For added sourness I threw in some dried limes I picked from the International Store.

Remove the chicken from the pan and keep warm, reduce the sauce, strain and pour over the chicken and serve with the rice.

For pudding we had the quince cooked in syrup with a whipped cream flavoured with calvados – deep dark and delicious.

Cora had made a cheesecake during the afternoon and the kids ate that.

We continued to listen to the Soul Jazz compilation of Southern Rock.

Taken from Dorothy Hartley’s Food in England by Palladius. She tells us that quince is hard and pear shaped, bright yellow when ripe and red when cooked. It has a most delicious aroma.

I bought a bagful from the grocers – eight in all. They will keep in the fruit bowl for a few weeks.

Jane Grigson has a few pages on quince in her book Good Things. Perhaps the most tempting recipe is a Moroccan Meat Stew made with chicken, ginger, butter and quince. I am not sure I will be able to persude the children but I might do it for myself on Friday evening.

Christopher Lloyd repeats the recipe in his book Gardener Cook and notes that he had scribbled into the margin of his battered old copy of Good Things so good and easy.

He suggests that should you see a quince tree in someone else’s garden laden with heavy yellow fruit in late October you should not be shy of knocking on the door to enquire as to whether they are willing to share that autumns harvest. I remember walking through Woodstock many years ago and seeing just such a quince tree bowed down with the weight of its fruit. Of course I walked on rsather than knocking on the door.

We have a small quince bush against the wall in the veg plot but although it flowers well it has not given any fruit much larger than a marble. However it seems to be doing better each year – last year the fruit grew no bigger than a pea.

This afternoon I am going to cook two of quinces I bought from the grocers in syrup and lemon juice.The recipe comes from Simon Hopkinson’s The Vegetarian Option. The quinces need to be quarted and put into a lidded oven dish with 8 tablespoons of syrup, a teasoppon of lemon juice and a few grindings of white pepper. He actually suggests maple syrup but wasn’t able to pick that up yesterday and I am sure that Lyle’s Golden will work just as well.

The dish goes into a low oven for an hour until the fruit is tender. He suggests eating it whipped cream flavoured with eau de vie an olf bottle of which we have in the basement.

There are quince in the greengrocers on Oxton Road.. I was in there first thing and as I walked out Kazim pointed them out to me. i bought just the one  but then as I drove over to The Farmers’s market in New Ferry I convinced myself that one would not be enough and a half dozen or so would look good in the kitchen until I got round to cooking them.

So I stopped again at the greengrocers to get me a bagful. The had some giant pomegranates which looked too good to resist so I took one of those as well.

Having put them into the basket I wemt round the back to let Kazim know I was getting them.

He was sat with Nadir at a rickety table having lunch. There was a small shelf with a kettle and some pots and pans for cooking. They had plates of vegetable and rice stew which they were eating with bread. Kazim invited me to have a taste and he explained how he made it with kohlrabi, onions,carrot, turnips fried in olive oil. Once this had started to cook he threw in a good handful of rice and then water. He had to keep stirring it to stop it from sticking and burning. Shortly before it was ready a couple of peeled tomatoes were stirred.

He put two spoonfuls on a plate for me and flavoured it with soy sauce and olive oil. It was very good. i must try and get there foir lunch next week.

As it was lunch had been bought at The Farmers Market. Two packs of lamb chump from Bryn Cocyn Farm.

I cooked the same potato cake I had cooked last night except this time it was for two. The turning over with a plate worked perfectly again.

The lamb was fried off in olive oil having been seasoned well with salt and pepper. Just before serving I stirred in some finely chopped lemon peel, parsley and garlic.

Listening to another Soul Jazz compilation – Country Soul Sisters – 25 tracks from Dolly Parton, Tammy Wynette to Kitty Wells and Bobbie Gentry

There was a remarkable golden light when I walked into the kitchen at 7.20 this morning. It was as if the trees in the garden had reached up higher into the sky so the light was filtered through their yellow orange late autumnal leaves. It only lasted a few minutes and by the time I had had my shower and was down again it had gone back to the lowering grey clouds and the weather report’s threat of rain. Later the day was coloured with disorder.

The drive home in the evening was taken up with guilty pleasues. I will write elsewhere about the glory of Soul Jazz compilations. Today it was the turn of Volume 2 of Delta Swamp Rock. Unless you are the sort of person whose heartbeat quickens at the name Duane Allman it is unlikely to do much for you, but it ticked all my boxes. Coming out of the tunnel it kick started into the start of Freebird and I found myself tapping fingers on the steering wheel to that bit towards the end when the twin guitars start to squeal.

So Friday evening are mostly taken up with the noise and guitars, not a bad combination.

At home the autumnal theme continued with the food. Last week I had picked up a partridge at Wards. A partridge is one of the great pleasures of autumn. If you see them on sale buy it. One is the perfect size for one helping.

I squashed up a clove of garlic and stuffed that into the cavity. The seasoning was a dash of olive oil, salt, pepper and a good pinch of ras el hounet.

In the meantime I made my potato cake. One large peeled potato very finely sliced with one of the knives capable of taking off the top of a finger. Butter was melted in a black iron pan and the layers of potato were added with more seasoning of salt and pepper. That was kept on a low heat for about 30 minutes. In the meantime the partridge went into a medium oven.

The potato cake was turned over. This involved a moment of doubt. If it had stuck or was undercooked the whole thing would be a failure. It worked this evening. The bottom was starting to brown and the sugars in the potato had started to coalecse. A small plate was placed over the pan and I flipped it over. It fell away perfectly and I was able to slid it back into the pan and onto the stove for another twenty minutes or so to cook through whilst the partridge was done.

The potato cake was then slid onto a plate and the partridge placed on top. It was delicious. Although I started with a knife and fork I finished with my fingers – snagging and picking every last meat and picking up my glass of wine in my fists.

We listened to the Dexy’s album and I was taken away again by thought of having seen them do it all on the stage a few weeks ago.