There are literally 1000s upon 1000s of food blogs. Far too many to consider. Why would I bother pursuing a food blog with so many in mind, you may ask. My first move towards blogging was defined by my move to Israel. I took writing oh so seriously, in the hope that I could build up my meager writing repertoire to become a full-fledge Lois Lane. Yet, after five years, nothing materialised for me and my writing career in Israel, minus a few spats on some Israeli lifestyle sites. ”Failure!”, screeched the little old bubbe sitting on my right shoulder.

After a 5-year vacuum of parties in smoky bars, heart-wrenching conversations over wine-stained tables and smelly cheese, and a few extra ripples of flab fuelled by a never-ending social existence of dinners of tapas, chicken wings and mini pizzas in hip Tel Aviv bars, food and drink became my definition. My love for food and cooking reached an all time high as I realised the main satisfaction I got from day-time television was reruns of Ina Garten and Everyday Food martians.

In a hope to save my hedonistic soul, I thought blogging about food and life would make it a tad worthwhile. My last blog became slightly too self-indulgent, all emotions and experiences of the Aliyah movement turned into a cheerleading dance and a preview for a Dr. Phil intervention. My new venture required a bit of a punch. Hence the food blog. A place where food would guide me through life.

A year down the line and my food blog has drowned in the online universe of annoyingly beautiful food blogs, decorated  with baby pink gingham backdrops, flattering fonts and perfectly shot photos of effortlessly exquisite creations. To get any street cred, you have to be part of Martha’s Circle or at least have the stamping of some type of food blog award. The others, like me, are sitting on the sideline, waiting for a response, an answer in the comments box, or at least a #FF tweet on twitter … see, I am getting it! Despite all this, I still have to remind myself why I bother in the first place. First, this is for me. And second, I need to stop obsessing over the competition and taking this food blog thing too seriously. I am no professional photographer and I haven’t (yet)written for a ton of glossy magazines. But there is hope for us all, and that’s why so many of us bother with the chore of blogging in the first place.

You may be rolling your eyes, demanding to know, is this post just another self-depracating rant? Well, there is meaning to the madness, and a recipe is insight. This blog comes after a year since the inauguration of the Dining Minx. And so, I wanted to recap my underlying voice in this overcrowded discourse: leftovers.

This recipe is for those who are wary about cooking chicken soup, for sake of a whole, entire chicken. It capitalises on the discarded chicken discarded, and turns this humble flesh into a delicious chicken stew, with a Spanish twist. This recipe was taken from the summer edition of Jamie Oliver’s magazine. I urge you to check out this delightful, unpretentious and inviting food magazine, made by one of my all-time favourite TV chefs, Jamie Oliver.

Leftover Chicken with Tomatoes & Crispy Chorizo

Ingredients

1 Yellow Pepper
1 Orange Pepper
Olive Oil
1 Onion, finely sliced4 garlic cloves, finely sliced
1 kg mixed tomatoes, roughly chopped (if the tomatoes do not have great flavour, replace this with 3 cans of chopped tomatoes)
1 heaped tsp sweet paprika (instead, I used smoked Spanish paprika)
1 red chilli, deseeded and finely sliced (you can replace with half a tsp of dried chilli flakes)
A few sprigs of oregano, leaves picked and chopped (or 1 tbsp of dried oregano)
1 poached chicken (on the off chance you haven’t got a spare poached chicken and you aren’t planning on making a batch of chicken soup, you can replace this with a rotisserie chicken from the supermarket)
200ml chicken stock
2 fresh chorizo sausages (I don’t eat pork so I replaces these with less authentic beef chorizo sausages)
1 heaped tbsp creme fraiche (I omitted this)
2 tbsp balsamic vinegar

1. (The first part of the recipe is for scorching the peppers. If you don’t have the energy for this step, you can replace it with pre-scorched peppers, available in supermarkets in the canned food section.) Blacken the peppers over a gas flame or under the grill then pop in a sandwich bag or bowl covered with clingfilm to steam. After 15 minutes, they should be easy to peel, so get rid of the skin (In a more simple fashion, I slice the peppers in half, lay them flat on a board and scrape the skins off with a sharp knife).

2. Heat a little oil in a large frying pan on a medium heat. Once hot, add the onion and fry for a couple of minutes, then add the garlic, tomatoes, paprika, chilli and most of the oregano. Cook for about 5 minutes, or until starting to soft. Meanwhile, pull the chicken off the bones in chunky pieces. Get rid of the bones and skin. Add the chicken to the pan with the stock. Tear the peppers into strips and add to the pan. Stir well. Leave to bubble away for 25 minutes, or till sauce has reduced and is thick and shiny.

3. Put a second frying pan on a high heat. Split open the skins on the chorizos. Add a splash of olive oil to the pan then add the meat from the sausages and the fennel seeds. Stir with a wooden spoon, squashing and breaking the meat into crumbs. Cook for about 5 minutes, stirring, or until dark golden, crisp and smelling fantastic.

4. Add a good lug of extra-virgin olive oil and generous pinch of salt and pepper to your chicken pan. Take the pan straight to the table, dollop over the creme fraiche, drizzle with the balsamic and scatter with the crisp chorizo (if you haven’t munched on it all, already) and reserved oregano.

Serve this with flat bread or even white rice.