At a recent travel media event in Chester I ran into old acquaintances from the Tunisian National Tourism Office. I couldn’t resist quizzing acting director Fakhri Khalsi about Harissa. This fiery chilli paste is a staple presence across the cuisines of North Africa; is Tunisia truly its epicentre? The answer was yes but it’s hard to replicate the ones made in home kitchens there; so many commercial jars you’ll find in the UK are travesties of the real thing.
Disconcerted, I told Fakhri I’d sourced one version (from Isca cafe/deli/natural wine store in Levenshulme) that seemed the real deal. “Unlikely, he replied then… “Well, there is Lamiri, which is imported from Tunisia – it is authentic”. That’s the one. Crafted from smoked baklouti chillies, dried in tradiitonal log ovens, the jar proclaiming “no added rose petals, xanthum gum or other nonsense ingredients… good enough for Grandma’s couscous”.


That enlightened purchase left me ready for the arrival of Gurdeep Loyal’s cookbook Flavour Heroes (Quadrille £27), sequel to Mother Tongue, arguably my favourite food tome of 2023. It is constructed around “15 modern pantry ingredients to amplify your cooking”. These are in order: harissa, pecorino Romano, gochujang, Thai green paste, yuzu koshō, tamarind, mango chutney, chipotle paste, toasted sesame oil, miso, ‘nduja, Calabrian chilli paste, dark roasted peanut butter, instant espresso powder, dark maple syrup and, front of the queue, you guessed it, harissa.
It’s hard to review/road test a book when you are finding it hard to get past cooking every dish in the first chapter. In the process nearly emptying that precious jar of Lamiri. This weekend we dined royally off Harissa and Pink Peppercorn Fish Fingers with Dill Pickle Tartare and Herby Harissa Shawarma with Shallot Raita (plus a mighty fennel pickle of my own). The former were a notch up on Nigella’s celebrated version, the smokey chicken skewers a whoosh of coriander, mint and dill overload.



It more than lives up to the Mother Tongue manifesto: “Food is a living form of culture that evolves: its boundaries are fluid, blurred, porous and dynamic… authenticity is an unending reel of culinary snapshots, an evolving spectrum that captures many transformative moments along flavourful journeys in generations of kitchens.”
But in a recent podcast interview the 40-year-old second generation gay British Punjabi from Leicester confessed the follow-up was a more personal mission statement. More relaxed. Boundaries already pushed. Plural identities reflected and then resolved in an eclectic pantry, out of which he conjures up a parade of glorious dishes.
Out of reviewing Mother Tongue I unravelled a welter of ‘Second Generation’ Asian food strands. Check out the link. Gurdeep remains my go-to fashioner of extraordinary cross-cultural flavours. My personal fusion contribution in the main image? Pairing the shawarma with risotto primavera packed with broad beans and peas from our garden.


UPDATE ON A REVIEW IN PROGRESS
OK, I skipped Pecorino and cooked a couple of recipes from ‘Gochujang’. Mainly because, like so many fellow foodies, I have a tub of this gloopy Korean chilli paste nearing its eat by date in the back of the fridge. Plus I also had some buttermilk left over from making soda bread, perfect for fashioning ‘Bonfire-Buttermilk Korean Fried Chicken’, where smoked salt helps recreate a barbecue vibe. Brown sugar, mustard, soy, ginger, ketchup and, of course, gochujang make for a tangy sauce. Topped with a garlicky pangrattato.
The second dish, ‘Fennel Sausage, Gochujang and Vodka Pacchieri’ is even punchier. I share Gurdeep’s passion for fennel, so into the ragu of crumbled fennel sausage and tomato I sprinkled not just crushed seeds but also fennel pollen. Soured cream tempered the two hefty tablespoons of gochujang; tenderstem broccoli added crunch greenery. When I make this glorious dish again I shall default to rigatoni. Pacchieri is a bruiser of a pasta. Next up, watch this space, to showcase Ingredient No 9 Toasted Sesame Oil – ‘Sesame Prawn Tostados with Charred Corn’.
