Cast your mind back to the journeys you have made over the years and to all the places you have visited, and I will bet you a penny to a pound that some of the most poignant and vivid memories you retain of your travels are of the street food you ate in different countries.
I have never forgotten, for example, on my first visit to Rome, a small bakery near the Coliseum which sold red and yellow pepper pizzas by the slice, and walking out of the shop munching on the sweet, delicious, revitalising slice. I have never forgotten the skewered mussels, cooked over flames, which were then piled into a sleeve of fresh baguette, topped with harissa, and served with cool rose wine at the harbour in Sete, in the south of France.
On other trips, there were the unforgettable yoghurt and the delicious boreks eaten in Istanbul; the little squares of dense, eggy Spanish omelette with sherry, or the sweet churros; the deep-fried puris, the chicken tikka and the naan breads in India and Pakistan; the slices of pizza carried aboard the train in buckets and then sliced, as we headed north or south on an Italian train; the barbecued offal offered us at a market in Palermo, in Sicily, or the omelette sesame bread sandwich eaten on the train leaving that city in the early morning.
But street food has been found even closer to home, for I have never forgotten the stunning lamb murtabak cooked by Chris Wong, of the fine Shortis-Wong deli in Kilkenny city, which we bought one day and then brought up to the gardens of Kilkenny Castle to eat. Bliss!
Why should the memories of such simple food be so acute? Perhaps it is because the experience is so unmediated: we are hungry, the street seller offers us an immediate bowl of egg curry and a lassi, or a hot dog draped with mustard and ketchup, or a samosa which he scoops out of the hot oil, and we eat it, wipe our fingers and are satisfied. We move on, and the moment stays with us always, because it is so simple, so delicious.
"It's a sort of survival cuisine, and in some ways is the truest food you'll ever taste," writes Clare Ferguson in the introduction to her book, Street Food, and she adds: "When I think back through some of my most vivid food memories, the ones I recall most affectionately are not the ten-course feasts in grand hotels . . . most often they are the unplanned, often chaotic but delicious snacks and drinks found at foreign bus stations and in far-off spice bazaars, in roadside diners or outside ferryboat terminals, at hawker stalls, in sun-streaked piazzas, in queues at fairgrounds or on rickety verandas while waiting for the tropical rains to stop."
Ferguson has a very sure grasp of the concept of street food, and her book wanders the globe to pick the best recipes from different cuisines, abetted by some outstanding photography by Jeremy Hopley.
Of course, there is something of a contradiction in compiling a recipe book about street food, for the whole point of it is that it is not a style of food which needs domestication. Ferguson admits that some recipes resist domestication, and so it is "better by far to return to that town, that country and enjoy the real thing".
But while many will find that Street Food makes them want to rush to the travel agent rather than the kitchen, the book chooses wisely, and there are many delicious things here, from simple ideas such as Corn Dogs to involved ones such as Tunisian Brik, where crisp pastries are filled with a spicy fish mixture into which a quail's egg is broken before the parcel is wrapped up and deep-fried. Here are two delicious street food recipes from the book and, finally, a recipe for that great Kilkenny street food speciality, Lamb Murtabak, from Anya von Bremzen's Terrific Pacific Cook- book. Von Bremzen points out that the murtabak, a filled griddle bread, was invented by Indians who migrated to Malaysia, where it is enjoyed at street stalls as a before-work breakfast, accompanied by a glass of strong, cardomom-scented tea with condensed milk. I like mine as a Kilkenny lunch, preferably with a glass of stout.
Street Food by Clare Ferguson is published by Ryland, Peters & Small, £16.99 in the UK
Corn Dogs
Makes 10
10 frankfurters
flour, to coat
spicy mustard or tomato ketchup, to serve
corn oil, for frying
Corn batter
45g fine yellow cornmeal
75g plain flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
175 ml buttermilk or thin plain yoghurt
1 egg
Soak 10 wooden skewers in water for 30 minutes. When ready to cook, push a skewer lengthways down the middle of each frankfurter. Dust with flour. To make the batter, mix the cornmeal, flour, salt and bicarbonate of soda in a bowl. Put the buttermilk or yoghurt and egg in a second bowl, beat well, then stir the mixture into the dry ingredients until smooth.
Pour 5 cm depth of oil into a deep-fryer or heavy-based saucepan and heat to 190C, (375F) or until a cube of bread browns in 30 seconds.
Dip the frankfurters into the batter to coat, and shake off any excess. Add the corn dogs to the hot oil in batches of four or five and deep-fry for about four minutes or until golden brown. Remove and drain on crumpled kitchen paper. Repeat with the other corn dogs, then serve hot with a dip of spicy mustard or tomato ketchup.
Pacific Poke
Serves 4
250g sugar
7-8 ripe bananas, mashed (about 1 kg)
180 ml milk
60g arrowroot powder
375 ml canned coconut milk, plus extra to serve
icing sugar, for dusting
Put the sugar into a 25 cm heavy-based stainless steel or non-stick frying-pan. Add 180 ml boiling water and heat gently until the sugar has dissolved. Stir in a layer of mashed bananas and cook over moderate heat until it begins to stick and turn dark and slightly pink. Every eight minutes or so, scrape the thick paste off the base with a wooden spatula and continue cooking until a new layer begins to stick. Continue this process until the banana turns a rich, darkish colour and is reduced to about 250 ml (about 50 minutes). Cool slightly.
Whisk the milk and arrowroot in a bowl, until smooth. Stir the mixture into the banana, then transfer to a lightly oiled, round, 17 cm ovenproof dish, about 2.5 cm deep. Bake uncovered in a preheated oven at 180C (350F) gas 4 for 111/4 hours, or until set.
Pierce all over with a fork or skewer, then pour on the well-stirred coconut milk. Return the pudding to the oven for 20 minutes and turn off the heat. Leave for 30 minutes, then remove from the oven. Let cool a little, then cut into wedges and serve cool or cold, dusted with icing sugar and drizzled with a little extra coconut milk.
Lamb Murtabak
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 1/2 cups finely chopped onion
1 1/2 lbs ground lamb
1/3 cup dark raisins
1 tablespoon chopped garlic
2 teaspoons grated fresh ginger
1 teaspoon minced seeded fresh hot green chilli
1 1/2 teaspoons best-quality curry powder
1/2 teaspoon pure chilli powder, or more to taste
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon ground cumin
4 large eggs, lightly beaten
salt and freshly ground black pep- per, to taste
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
pinch of sugar, or more to taste
1/4 cup chopped fresh coriander leaves
1/4 cup chopped fresh mint leaves
griddle bread dough (recipe follows)
3 tablespoons vegetable oil, or more as needed, for frying the breads
herbed yoghurt for serving
Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-low heat. Add the onion and cook until softened, about seven minutes. Raise the heat to medium-high, add the lamb and raisins, and cook, breaking the lamb up with a fork until it is no longer pink, about five minutes. If the lamb throws off too much liquid, tilt the skillet and spoon it out. Add the garlic, ginger, green chilli, curry powder, chilli powder, coriander and cumin, and cook, stirring, for three minutes.
Add the eggs and cook, stirring well, until the eggs are cooked through, about three minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Add the lemon juice, sugar, coriander and mint. Transfer to a bowl and let cool. (The filling can be prepared up to a day ahead.)
Spread about three tablespoons of the filling into the middle of a square of griddle bread dough, leaving a two-inch border. Fold the top and bottom edges over the filling to meet in the centre, then fold in the sides. Flatten each packet with your hands, pushing the filling into the corners, until you have a thin five-inch square. Repeat the procedure with the remaining balls of dough and filling.
Preheat a large griddle or cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat and brush with some oil. Add a murtabak and fry until crisp and golden, about one-and-a-half minutes on each side, keeping the uncooked breads covered with plastic wrap. Repeat with the rest of the breads, transferring the cooked ones to a large platter. Cut each bread into four squares and serve hot or warm, with herbed yoghurt.
Griddle bread dough
21/4 cups all-purpose flour, plus about 1/4 cup, as needed
1/2 cup whole-wheat flour
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
3/4 cup low-fat plain yoghurt 2 tablespoons butter, melted vegetable oil
Sift the flours and salt into a large bowl. Make a well in the centre and pour in the eggs, yoghurt, and melted butter. Mix in the flour with your hands until you get a rather soft dough. Transfer the dough to a floured board and knead, adding more flour as necessary, until the dough is smooth and elastic, and no longer sticky, about 10 minutes. Shape the dough into a ball, coat with oil, cover with plastic wrap and let stand to "relax" for one hour. (The dough can be made a day ahead, covered with plastic wrap, and refrigerated.)
Divide the dough into 12 parts and shape each one into a ball. Brush each ball generously with oil and let stand, covered, for 15 minutes.
On a floured surface, with a floured rolling pin, roll out one ball as thin as you can manage, to form a square. With your hands, stretch the dough carefully in all directions, especially around the edges, until it is paper thin. You should have about an eight-inch square. Fill as directed in the recipe above.