Well - I've had a lot of very positive comments about this one, several along the lines of 'I am going to abduct you so you become my food slave and cook this all day'. Ahem.
I do wish that I could take credit for this recipe, but it is all due to dear old Jamie Oliver - Jamie's dinners.
For 8 (apparently - more like 4 greedy people, but don't attempt to count the calories)
Put a teasoon of bicarb on 225g dates (without stones), pour some boiling water over it and leave for ~10 mins. The dates will fizz for a bit - don't be scared, all part of the fun. Then drain and mash up. Does end up looking a bit like baby diarrhoea, don't be put off by it.
Cream 170g caster sugar & 85g unsalted butter together, add 2 whole eggs, 170g self raising flour, a good sprinkle of mixed spice and ground cinnamon. Then add ~2 tablespoons of Ovaltine (I LOVE Ovaltine, even though it is a bit 80s, they do still sell it, believe it or not). Mix together well, fold in 2 tablespoons natural yoghurt and the mushed up dates.
Pop in an overproof, buttered dish and bake at 180C for ~35mins. I have to admit the best pudding ever is out of the bottom shelf of an Aga - but living in a postage sized flat in London who has access to this kind of thing....?
While the beautiful pudding is happily baking away, make the toffee sauce. This again, works *so* well on an Aga, but never mind. Low heat on any old chavvy hob will do. Hmpf.
Melt 115g muscovado sugar, 115g unsalted butter an 140ml double cream slowly until it bubbles with excitement and smells divine.
Pop the pudding out of the oven, pour over the sauce and serve with vanilla ice cream. Mmmmm....
Saturday, 19 January 2008
Sunday, 2 September 2007
Sunday lunch in Technicolour
Suppose a friend is coming to spend the day, and she's asked what to bring for lunch. You have wine, neither of you feel like drinking anything except your elderflower cordial out of champagne flues, you have dessert ingredients to hand, so you say "could you bring the chicken?" She will say "Splendid. Will source an organic, happy, free ranging all singing and dancing little cluck-cluck." Or words to that effect.
The chicken arrives, you insert a halved lemon and peeled and halved onion with a couple of cloves of smushed garlic into its orifice, smother it in butter and salt and pepper and after an hour or two the juices will run clear and your cluck cluck will look like this:
While I give the potatoes roasted in goose fat another shake and drain and season the broccoli and beans, why don't you have a closer look:
Even if you are a rubbish carver like me, be sure, after everyone has had second helpings, to turn the carcass upside down and prise out of the underbelly the oysters. Fight over them. Eat.
For pudding, you are determined to perfect something that's been bothering you. Melt two ounces of butter with a quarter of a pint of water and bring just to the boil. Take it off the heat, drop in two and a half ounces of sifted flour all at once, then beat until it comes away from the pan easily. Set aside to cool before blending in two eggs, a little at a time, until you make a smooth, glossy paste. Pipe it onto a greased baking tray in a ring. Bake at 200 degrees C for 20-25 minutes. Pierce to release steam.
While you are waiting for it to cool, whip the double cream, and, on the advice of your guest, add caster sugar and vanilla extract to taste. Take four ounces of caster sugar and put in a heavy bottomed stainless steel pan to melt over a medium heat. Do not stir until you see the caramel forming around all the edges, then stir until all the crystals have dissolved. Take the caramel off the heat and add two tablespoons of tap hot water but stay back, as it sputters. Slice the choux in half, fill with the whipped cream, then drizzle the caramel over the top to harden. Now dribble over a melted chocolate ganache (two parts single cream to one part chocolate) and scatter over toasted almonds. Yours should be prettier than mine, as it collapsed coming out the oven:
Once you've finished eating, you will sit groaning on the sofa watching movies until it's time for a cup of tea and a game of scrabble. And maybe the last scrapings of choux ring. Mmmmmm.....
The chicken arrives, you insert a halved lemon and peeled and halved onion with a couple of cloves of smushed garlic into its orifice, smother it in butter and salt and pepper and after an hour or two the juices will run clear and your cluck cluck will look like this:
While I give the potatoes roasted in goose fat another shake and drain and season the broccoli and beans, why don't you have a closer look:
Even if you are a rubbish carver like me, be sure, after everyone has had second helpings, to turn the carcass upside down and prise out of the underbelly the oysters. Fight over them. Eat.
For pudding, you are determined to perfect something that's been bothering you. Melt two ounces of butter with a quarter of a pint of water and bring just to the boil. Take it off the heat, drop in two and a half ounces of sifted flour all at once, then beat until it comes away from the pan easily. Set aside to cool before blending in two eggs, a little at a time, until you make a smooth, glossy paste. Pipe it onto a greased baking tray in a ring. Bake at 200 degrees C for 20-25 minutes. Pierce to release steam.
While you are waiting for it to cool, whip the double cream, and, on the advice of your guest, add caster sugar and vanilla extract to taste. Take four ounces of caster sugar and put in a heavy bottomed stainless steel pan to melt over a medium heat. Do not stir until you see the caramel forming around all the edges, then stir until all the crystals have dissolved. Take the caramel off the heat and add two tablespoons of tap hot water but stay back, as it sputters. Slice the choux in half, fill with the whipped cream, then drizzle the caramel over the top to harden. Now dribble over a melted chocolate ganache (two parts single cream to one part chocolate) and scatter over toasted almonds. Yours should be prettier than mine, as it collapsed coming out the oven:
Once you've finished eating, you will sit groaning on the sofa watching movies until it's time for a cup of tea and a game of scrabble. And maybe the last scrapings of choux ring. Mmmmmm.....
Thursday, 5 July 2007
What to do when once again you've cooked a bit too much pasta? Well the scrumptiously satisfying solution is here. This is a dish that my mum always used to make when I was little, so all credit goes to her.
Drain the suplus cooked pasta and chuck it into a pan of milk. Add some sugar and a handful of raisins and bring to the boil. I recommend about 10-15 mins of simmering after that, so the raisins become plump and juicy and the whole kitchen smells wonderfully of hot, sweet milk.
In the meantime, whizz 2 or 3 eggs with a bit of vanilla essence and a sprinkling of sugar until fluffy. Mix in some quark (it's very popular in germany, but not that easy to find in the uk. It's an intermediate between philadelphia and yoghurt, apparently "virtually fat free" and very tasty), whizz a bit more and season to taste. Mmmm......
Drain the pasta and raisins. It's important to drain properly, otherwise the desert will go soggy.
Mix the pasta, raisins and quark mix. This is the point where I really have to restrain myself not to eat it all before it's cooked, it smells so nice and is so moreish....
Pop into a pyrex dish and bake in the oven for 15-20 mins at 170. It will go beautifully golden ontop.
Serve hot or cold, on its own or with fresh strawberries / raspberries.
A simple, reasonably healthy, moreish, light but also satisfyingly stodgey desert - Done. :-)
Drain the suplus cooked pasta and chuck it into a pan of milk. Add some sugar and a handful of raisins and bring to the boil. I recommend about 10-15 mins of simmering after that, so the raisins become plump and juicy and the whole kitchen smells wonderfully of hot, sweet milk.
In the meantime, whizz 2 or 3 eggs with a bit of vanilla essence and a sprinkling of sugar until fluffy. Mix in some quark (it's very popular in germany, but not that easy to find in the uk. It's an intermediate between philadelphia and yoghurt, apparently "virtually fat free" and very tasty), whizz a bit more and season to taste. Mmmm......
Drain the pasta and raisins. It's important to drain properly, otherwise the desert will go soggy.
Mix the pasta, raisins and quark mix. This is the point where I really have to restrain myself not to eat it all before it's cooked, it smells so nice and is so moreish....
Pop into a pyrex dish and bake in the oven for 15-20 mins at 170. It will go beautifully golden ontop.
Serve hot or cold, on its own or with fresh strawberries / raspberries.
A simple, reasonably healthy, moreish, light but also satisfyingly stodgey desert - Done. :-)
Tuesday, 29 May 2007
Friends with benefits
A friend of mine who lives nearby is often having gifts pressed on her by clients (not that kind of client). Around Christmas pheasant and champagne characterised our Sunday lunches. She often brings over home made soda bread and her Mum's jam to nibble on while we gossip.
A couple of weeks ago, a client brought a crop of asparagus from his gloucestershire farm, and this friend generously gave me half. What to do with uber fresh asparagus? As it happened, I had been subject to rather a glut of the stuff that week, and wanted something more creative than simply roasted with olive oil and lemon or blanched and dipped in hollandaise.
So it seemed that hoovering up the other contents of my larder might create quite a nice risotto, and I could introduce you all to my somewhat unorthodox, yet surprisingly tasty, risotto-making method.
I have been told that my order of play, ie cook the flavouring ingredients, then add the rice, then the stock, is sacreligious, but only, in my opinion, if you overcook the main ingredient. Also, my disdain for arborio risotto rice and love of basmati for keeping the risotto a meal instead of a soup has raised many eyebrows.
So, I bung asparagus, peas, and broad beans in with some softened onions and garlic, and sweat briefly before adding a handful of rice per person (I have quite small hands). I then stir the rice in with the other ingredients, essentially frying the basmati, making all the starch break down to help the sauce get properly risotto-like. Add boiling stock, and let simmer, adding stock until the rice has fluffed up but is still covered. Then leave until the rice is cooked. I stirred in some leftover goats cheese, which made it extra yummy and creamy without swamping the asparagus flavour.
This resulted in a very delicious amalgam of spring vegetables, but sadly, as ever, I have created a vegetable dish unsuitable for vegetarians because I just don't believe vegetable stock has the same emulsifying qualities of chicken stock, which are required for this most unorthodox of risottos.
A couple of weeks ago, a client brought a crop of asparagus from his gloucestershire farm, and this friend generously gave me half. What to do with uber fresh asparagus? As it happened, I had been subject to rather a glut of the stuff that week, and wanted something more creative than simply roasted with olive oil and lemon or blanched and dipped in hollandaise.
So it seemed that hoovering up the other contents of my larder might create quite a nice risotto, and I could introduce you all to my somewhat unorthodox, yet surprisingly tasty, risotto-making method.
I have been told that my order of play, ie cook the flavouring ingredients, then add the rice, then the stock, is sacreligious, but only, in my opinion, if you overcook the main ingredient. Also, my disdain for arborio risotto rice and love of basmati for keeping the risotto a meal instead of a soup has raised many eyebrows.
So, I bung asparagus, peas, and broad beans in with some softened onions and garlic, and sweat briefly before adding a handful of rice per person (I have quite small hands). I then stir the rice in with the other ingredients, essentially frying the basmati, making all the starch break down to help the sauce get properly risotto-like. Add boiling stock, and let simmer, adding stock until the rice has fluffed up but is still covered. Then leave until the rice is cooked. I stirred in some leftover goats cheese, which made it extra yummy and creamy without swamping the asparagus flavour.
This resulted in a very delicious amalgam of spring vegetables, but sadly, as ever, I have created a vegetable dish unsuitable for vegetarians because I just don't believe vegetable stock has the same emulsifying qualities of chicken stock, which are required for this most unorthodox of risottos.
SO skanky
Dear foodies,
Forgive me for I have sinned. Yes, I did want an easy way out of having chips with my Borough market steak. Yes, I did think buying oven chips would be more economical than buying a deep fat fryer.
Please forgive me. I have been punished enough. By the smell of SO urine that came off those SO skanky chips. By the SO industrial grease that seeped from them onto my beautiful baking tray. By the SO flaccid excuse for fried potatoes, with a lumpy interior and a soggy skin.
They were SO bad.
Sniff.
Forgive me for I have sinned. Yes, I did want an easy way out of having chips with my Borough market steak. Yes, I did think buying oven chips would be more economical than buying a deep fat fryer.
Please forgive me. I have been punished enough. By the smell of SO urine that came off those SO skanky chips. By the SO industrial grease that seeped from them onto my beautiful baking tray. By the SO flaccid excuse for fried potatoes, with a lumpy interior and a soggy skin.
They were SO bad.
Sniff.
S&M Night - not what you may think
When we were meandering around tower bridge recently, we came across the refurbished ex-camel pub, now called the Bridge Lounge & Dining room. As the camel had been quite a favourite of mine (lots of organic wines that were surprisingly tasty), we decided to pop in to see what had become of the venue.
I must say the inside doesn't look much different than before. Still quite dark and mellow, a whiff of local pub mixed in with the vibes of a bar displaying a hint of trendiness without the footless tights, skinny jeans & stripy tops. Not over-run, a nice selection of "alternative" city types that managed to venture beyond the Barrow Boy & Banker, and some locals & a sprinkling of students. An allround pleasant experience.
We settled down with our drinks (pretty decent views of tower bridge I must add). A couple of sips later we regretted not having chosen the table by the door. We had only just spotted the extensive number of signs advertising "S&M Night". Tonight. Now. Aaaaah.
But fear not - it actually turned out to be Sausage & Mash night, amazing stuff. Every Monday this incredible pub serves 7 different types of sausages (even catering for the strange species of vegetarians) with 4 different types of mash and a selection of gravies to go with it. For £5 you get 3 enormous sausages, a huge pile of mash and lashings of delicious gravy. Mmmmmm......
The sausages were all of exceptional quality, delicious flavour, cooked to perfection and served in a very appetising manner. We were also very impressed with the mash (tasted like home-grown, organic potatoes hand mashed with love in a Hugh FW-esque environment) and gravy (mmmm...). The service was friendly & efficient, the cutlery was clean (yes you may mock but on far too many occasions I have discovered previous guest's dinner remains nestling cosily between the prongs of my fork - not something to wet your appetite) and the experience exceptionally pleasant.
In conclusion - this is the best sausage & mash I've had in a long while, especially at such a great price & so conveniently located. Yummy.
I must say the inside doesn't look much different than before. Still quite dark and mellow, a whiff of local pub mixed in with the vibes of a bar displaying a hint of trendiness without the footless tights, skinny jeans & stripy tops. Not over-run, a nice selection of "alternative" city types that managed to venture beyond the Barrow Boy & Banker, and some locals & a sprinkling of students. An allround pleasant experience.
We settled down with our drinks (pretty decent views of tower bridge I must add). A couple of sips later we regretted not having chosen the table by the door. We had only just spotted the extensive number of signs advertising "S&M Night". Tonight. Now. Aaaaah.
But fear not - it actually turned out to be Sausage & Mash night, amazing stuff. Every Monday this incredible pub serves 7 different types of sausages (even catering for the strange species of vegetarians) with 4 different types of mash and a selection of gravies to go with it. For £5 you get 3 enormous sausages, a huge pile of mash and lashings of delicious gravy. Mmmmmm......
The sausages were all of exceptional quality, delicious flavour, cooked to perfection and served in a very appetising manner. We were also very impressed with the mash (tasted like home-grown, organic potatoes hand mashed with love in a Hugh FW-esque environment) and gravy (mmmm...). The service was friendly & efficient, the cutlery was clean (yes you may mock but on far too many occasions I have discovered previous guest's dinner remains nestling cosily between the prongs of my fork - not something to wet your appetite) and the experience exceptionally pleasant.
In conclusion - this is the best sausage & mash I've had in a long while, especially at such a great price & so conveniently located. Yummy.
Fine beans and mushrooms - a quick side dish
Very quick one here. I wanted something a little tastier than plain veg to accompany some roasted chicken pieces, so undertook the following as a side for two...
• Four large flat mushrooms, each cut into medium chunks
• A generous handful of fine green beans, topped, tailed and cut into quarters
• Fresh thyme leaves stripped from the stalk
• A couple of squeezes of lemon juice
• A little olive oil and a knob of butter
Boil the beans in water for four or so minutes - so they're about half-cooked. Drain and keep on the side.
Melt the butter and olive oil in a frying pan. The butter gives the mushrooms that lovely dark colour; the oil stops the butter from burning. Then in with the mushrooms for a few minutes until they're brown and starting to soften. Then chuck in the beans and toss around a bit. Another few minutes over a moderate heat and then finish off with the thyme and lemon juice. Give it a final minute or so for the flavours to mix and then serve. Simple!
• Four large flat mushrooms, each cut into medium chunks
• A generous handful of fine green beans, topped, tailed and cut into quarters
• Fresh thyme leaves stripped from the stalk
• A couple of squeezes of lemon juice
• A little olive oil and a knob of butter
Boil the beans in water for four or so minutes - so they're about half-cooked. Drain and keep on the side.
Melt the butter and olive oil in a frying pan. The butter gives the mushrooms that lovely dark colour; the oil stops the butter from burning. Then in with the mushrooms for a few minutes until they're brown and starting to soften. Then chuck in the beans and toss around a bit. Another few minutes over a moderate heat and then finish off with the thyme and lemon juice. Give it a final minute or so for the flavours to mix and then serve. Simple!
Wednesday, 23 May 2007
Bolognese - definitely tasty
So, my writing on here hasn't really gotten off to a very 'regular' start (I should eat more prunes), hopefully that will improve soon enough!
Some thoughts on Bolognese: few tomatoes and a long time cooking. To explain, I try to add very little (if any) tinned tomatoes, instead using a few chopped fresh ones, and always cook for at least an hour and a half. I find the following makes a good sauce in a quantity that will serve three hungry or four average:
• 500g good beef mine. This HAS to be GOOD mince, and none of that lean crap. As Fitz suggests, the description 'steak mince' should get the right thing from the Butcher, or buy the organic stuff from the supermarket
• A couple of medium carrots, chopped not too finely
• A dozen or so good sized mushrooms, quartered
• Half a large onion, chopped finely
• Half a dozen tomatoes, quartered
• A third of a bottle of red wine
• 200ml Double cream (optional)
• Beef or vegetable stock (make up a litre and see how it goes - you'll need more if cooking for a long time)
• A couple of Bay leaves
Use a good dish for this - something like a Le Cruset is perfect.
Brown the onions in some olive oil, then lightly brown the mince. No need to cook the mince all the way through - it's going to cook for quite a while! Then add the carrots, mushrooms, tomatoes and Bay leaves and give it a good stir. Salt, pepper and a few herbs can be added here to taste. Finally, add stock to cover and the wine.
You'll end up with a lot of liquid in the pan - don't worry. Leave bubbling gently (I find a diffuser helps) on the heat with the lid off. Check back every twenty minutes or so, stir and add more stock if the sauce is drying out - you want to keep it pretty liquidy until about 20 minutes before you're ready to serve. At this point just keep the heat on, don't add more liquid and stir more frequently to prevent burning. There should be very little liquid left just before serving.
As a final touch - and this is optional but recommended - stir the cream a minute or two before before serving. Makes a wonderfully rich sauce. Enjoy!
Some thoughts on Bolognese: few tomatoes and a long time cooking. To explain, I try to add very little (if any) tinned tomatoes, instead using a few chopped fresh ones, and always cook for at least an hour and a half. I find the following makes a good sauce in a quantity that will serve three hungry or four average:
• 500g good beef mine. This HAS to be GOOD mince, and none of that lean crap. As Fitz suggests, the description 'steak mince' should get the right thing from the Butcher, or buy the organic stuff from the supermarket
• A couple of medium carrots, chopped not too finely
• A dozen or so good sized mushrooms, quartered
• Half a large onion, chopped finely
• Half a dozen tomatoes, quartered
• A third of a bottle of red wine
• 200ml Double cream (optional)
• Beef or vegetable stock (make up a litre and see how it goes - you'll need more if cooking for a long time)
• A couple of Bay leaves
Use a good dish for this - something like a Le Cruset is perfect.
Brown the onions in some olive oil, then lightly brown the mince. No need to cook the mince all the way through - it's going to cook for quite a while! Then add the carrots, mushrooms, tomatoes and Bay leaves and give it a good stir. Salt, pepper and a few herbs can be added here to taste. Finally, add stock to cover and the wine.
You'll end up with a lot of liquid in the pan - don't worry. Leave bubbling gently (I find a diffuser helps) on the heat with the lid off. Check back every twenty minutes or so, stir and add more stock if the sauce is drying out - you want to keep it pretty liquidy until about 20 minutes before you're ready to serve. At this point just keep the heat on, don't add more liquid and stir more frequently to prevent burning. There should be very little liquid left just before serving.
As a final touch - and this is optional but recommended - stir the cream a minute or two before before serving. Makes a wonderfully rich sauce. Enjoy!
Monday, 21 May 2007
Port and fruit jelly
Just what can you do with 2/3 of a bottle of port that will soon go off, when your hangover prevents the obvious solution? Make it into a childrens’ dessert, of course! Well, a version of the kids’ classic anyway. Port jellies were apparently popular in the good old days (I have no idea when), so I decided it could not be too hard, and went with the following:
About half a bottle of port (350ml)
About 150ml of orange juice
A little water (100-200ml)
Sugar (to taste, you won’t need much, if at all)
A cinammon stick
7 or 8 gelatine leaves
Fruit – I used grapes and strawberries
Mint leaves
First I filtered the orange juice through a clean tea towel, so the jelly would be clear. Then I put the port, juice and water in a pan with the cinammon stick, and very gently heated it, making sure not to boil. Meanwhile I prepared the gelatine (soaked it), then added it to the mix. I tasted the liquid, I did not add sugar, but you could if you wanted. I then put some of the fruit in glasses, poured the liquid to the top, and put in a couple of mint leaves in for flavour and garnish. Then in the fridge for a while (12 hours or so). That is about it.
It was pretty good – rich and spiced (like sweet mulled wine), which went well with the fresh summery fruit and mint. However, the jelly process cunningly disguises the fairly potent alcohol content, so beware!
About half a bottle of port (350ml)
About 150ml of orange juice
A little water (100-200ml)
Sugar (to taste, you won’t need much, if at all)
A cinammon stick
7 or 8 gelatine leaves
Fruit – I used grapes and strawberries
Mint leaves
First I filtered the orange juice through a clean tea towel, so the jelly would be clear. Then I put the port, juice and water in a pan with the cinammon stick, and very gently heated it, making sure not to boil. Meanwhile I prepared the gelatine (soaked it), then added it to the mix. I tasted the liquid, I did not add sugar, but you could if you wanted. I then put some of the fruit in glasses, poured the liquid to the top, and put in a couple of mint leaves in for flavour and garnish. Then in the fridge for a while (12 hours or so). That is about it.
It was pretty good – rich and spiced (like sweet mulled wine), which went well with the fresh summery fruit and mint. However, the jelly process cunningly disguises the fairly potent alcohol content, so beware!
Wednesday, 9 May 2007
That's some damn fine coffee you got here in Twin Peaks...
What is more American than pie? As in "motherhood and". From Dale Cooper's damn fine cherry pie to Fox Mulder's gorging on sweet potato pie in episode 20 of series 3 (am I confirming your stereotypes of bloggers yet?), from politicians to preachers, aligning yourself with a fruit filled baked good always put you on the side of the good guys on that side of the pond.
Image source
In Britain, however, we do things differently. Pies are generally savoury. What's more, we can spell savoury. And being a lavish consumer of pies doesn't necessarily make you popular with the electorate. In all seriousness, one is assuming that in a couple of months' time we shall be addressing the current, beleaguered Deputy Prime Minister as Lord Prescott of Melton Mowbray.
Like John, I have spent a fair amount of time living among Americans, enjoying their hospitality, and my first Christmas with a kitchen of my own seemed a good time to repay their generosity. In the interests of preserving my dear friends' concept of what is British (we all own horses, say, and love the Queen) I threw a Christmas tea party. Being but a poor student, people were invited to bring their own baked goods, riffs upon our transatlantic culinary traditions, to share.
Where one runs into problems with such a strategy is that you are somewhat hostage to another's self-assessment of his or her cooking ability. Like a visitor at an Abstract Expressionism exhibition who has never seen the still life and landscape tableaux the artists created before leaving figurative art behind, the "intuitive" cook looks at Jamie Oliver and Delia Smith and thinks "I can do that" without ever learning to follow a recipe.
One guest had made shepherd's pie before, tasted pork pie and even heard of what those poor benighted souls insist on terming "steak and kidney pie"*. She was therefore accustomed to the British habit of calling meat filled pastry "pie". However, she had also heard of our traditional Christmas foodstuff: mince pies.
While these two facts combined to create something containing enough minced beef to adhere to the historical purity of mincemeat pie, the real issue lay in the fact that suet is unavailable in North Carolina. If you should find yourself in the old north state any time soon around the holiday season, I have one word of advice on the subject of suet: Crisco is no substitute.
*Warning, do not confuse Americans, even well-travelled ones, with words like "pudding". No matter how cringeworthy you find the term, stick with "dessert." In the US, pudding is not the sweet course at the end of a meal, but the gloopy custard-like banana or chocolate flavoured stuff you get at school. To introduce the concept of a whole course devoted to pudding, especially a savoury one like "steak and kidney pudding" would cause a minor international incident. Corollary to this: my fellow Britons, note that it may say "entree" but they mean main course.
Image source
In Britain, however, we do things differently. Pies are generally savoury. What's more, we can spell savoury. And being a lavish consumer of pies doesn't necessarily make you popular with the electorate. In all seriousness, one is assuming that in a couple of months' time we shall be addressing the current, beleaguered Deputy Prime Minister as Lord Prescott of Melton Mowbray.
Like John, I have spent a fair amount of time living among Americans, enjoying their hospitality, and my first Christmas with a kitchen of my own seemed a good time to repay their generosity. In the interests of preserving my dear friends' concept of what is British (we all own horses, say, and love the Queen) I threw a Christmas tea party. Being but a poor student, people were invited to bring their own baked goods, riffs upon our transatlantic culinary traditions, to share.
Where one runs into problems with such a strategy is that you are somewhat hostage to another's self-assessment of his or her cooking ability. Like a visitor at an Abstract Expressionism exhibition who has never seen the still life and landscape tableaux the artists created before leaving figurative art behind, the "intuitive" cook looks at Jamie Oliver and Delia Smith and thinks "I can do that" without ever learning to follow a recipe.
One guest had made shepherd's pie before, tasted pork pie and even heard of what those poor benighted souls insist on terming "steak and kidney pie"*. She was therefore accustomed to the British habit of calling meat filled pastry "pie". However, she had also heard of our traditional Christmas foodstuff: mince pies.
While these two facts combined to create something containing enough minced beef to adhere to the historical purity of mincemeat pie, the real issue lay in the fact that suet is unavailable in North Carolina. If you should find yourself in the old north state any time soon around the holiday season, I have one word of advice on the subject of suet: Crisco is no substitute.
*Warning, do not confuse Americans, even well-travelled ones, with words like "pudding". No matter how cringeworthy you find the term, stick with "dessert." In the US, pudding is not the sweet course at the end of a meal, but the gloopy custard-like banana or chocolate flavoured stuff you get at school. To introduce the concept of a whole course devoted to pudding, especially a savoury one like "steak and kidney pudding" would cause a minor international incident. Corollary to this: my fellow Britons, note that it may say "entree" but they mean main course.
Sunday, 6 May 2007
Smiths of Smithfield - go for brunch!
Just a quick one: Susy & I recently discovered the joy of brunch in the downstairs bar of Smiths of Smithfield. Awesome. Rock up any day of the week and you can enjoy brilliant traditional breakfasts (all under seven quid). At weekends, there are some more interesting brunch specials such as corned beef hash and eggs Benedict. All washed down with good mugs of tea (or a Guinness). Excellent.
Thursday, 26 April 2007
Home-cured bacon: the results
So, after 5 days sitting around in the rub it's time to taste...I took the bacon (yep, bacon, no belly now!) out and gave it a good rinse to remove all the rub. You can see from the picture just how dark it looks after five days.
Using a very sharp knife it was possible to cut some reasonably thin slices - probably twice the thickness of a standard rasher. All adds to the home-made feel, I think! What's more, they did actually look like bacon rashers!
Of course, no point in waiting to try... so into the frying pan. I used a little butter here but really there's more than enough fat on the rashers to just shove them in. Smelt like bacon too...
And finally! A proper, home-made bacon sandwich (well, OK, I didn't make the bread. Next time).
The bacon tasted pretty damn good in my opinion :) Perhaps a little too salty - possibly I rubbed the cure in a little too powerfully? Or maybe one day less? Apparently you can remove some of the saltyness by soaking the bacon for a while in cold water, but I've decided to just risk the heart on this occasion. Mmm, tasty.
Wednesday, 25 April 2007
Bread dilemma
Top questions to establish:
Is it culinary sacriledge to toast a fresh loaf of bread?
Should you butter the toast when it's hot, leaving it for a moment, so the butter melts into the toast? Or should you butter the toast when it's cold, having recovered from the strains of the toaster in a toast rack?
Should you keep your bread in a bread bin, or in the fridge, or in the freezer?
Do you slice bread thick or thin? Do you slice it differently when you're slicing it for toast?
How far are you allowed to toast bread? Should it still be soft in the middle, or crunchy all the way?
Are you allowed to toast a "continental, crusty" loaf?
Is it culinary sacriledge to toast a fresh loaf of bread?
Should you butter the toast when it's hot, leaving it for a moment, so the butter melts into the toast? Or should you butter the toast when it's cold, having recovered from the strains of the toaster in a toast rack?
Should you keep your bread in a bread bin, or in the fridge, or in the freezer?
Do you slice bread thick or thin? Do you slice it differently when you're slicing it for toast?
How far are you allowed to toast bread? Should it still be soft in the middle, or crunchy all the way?
Are you allowed to toast a "continental, crusty" loaf?
Home-cured bacon: Days 2 – 5
Bit of a delay on posting this - didn't have my camera lead! Anyways, enough of my forgetfulness and on with the bacon...Days 2 – 5 are a bit repetitive, so I'm only posting this once! Basically, I removed the bacon from fridge. There was a fair amount of dark liquid sitting at the bottom (see picture): excellent, the process is working! The belly also started looking more bacon-like, even after just 24 hours. Apparently, if there's not much liquid, your fridge might be too cold - try a cold room like a pantry instead.
I drained off the liquid and the really wet salt at the bottom. Then I took more of the rub and, well, rubbed it in. Then back to the fridge (with the weights on top) for another 24 hours. By the time it got to day 5 it was soo tempting to tuck in, but I waited... results coming soon!
Monday, 16 April 2007
Lemon chicken and chocolate strawberries
Lazy weekends seem to be the best time to mess about in the kitchen, and this one proved no exception. I am not very good at recipes – I hate carefully measuring things in the kitchen and am not very organised, so I wandered around waitrose until inspiration came over me, in the form of some free range chicken legs and thighs (I always buy free range or organic chicken and eggs when I can; the inside of a battery farm is one of my more disturbing memories). I thought simple would be good, so this is what I tried:
Lemon and herb chicken
4 chicken legs (or 8 thighs), with the skin on
2 onions
1 lemon
4 or 5 cloves of garlic
A bunch of basil and a bunch of flat-leaved parsley
Olive oil
Butter
Some sherry
I put the chicken in a bowl with a good few dollops of olive oil, the zest of the lemon, a squeeze of lemon juice and half the herbs, roughly chopped. I seasoned it lightly, mushed it all together with my hands, and let it sit whilst I prepared the rest of the ingredients. I put the oven on hot (200 oC at least), then crushed and finely chopped the garlic, then loosely chopped the 2 onions. I also sliced up half the lemon into 8 or so chunks.
I put a heavy frying pan on full heat with some more oil, then once it was hot, I seared the chicken pieces for 5 or so minutes, until it was getting brown on each side and the herbs were burning. I put them in a pyrex dish just big enough for them, and put them in the oven whist I made the sauce.
Turning the heat down a touch, I put in the garlic, and added the onions before the garlic started browning. I added a lump of butter to keep it all frying. Once the onions were looking translucent, I deglazed the pan with a good slosh of sherry, maybe as much as a wine glass. I then threw in most of the rest of the herbs, leaving a few for the end, and the chunks of lemon. After letting it boil for a minute I poured the mixture over the chicken in the oven, and added enough hot water from the kettle to ¾ cover the chicken pieces, and returned the dish to the oven. 20 minutes later, when the top of the dish was starting to burn, and the liquid was bubbling, I covered it in foil and left for another hour.
I served the chicken, then finished the sauce with another knob of butter, the rest of the herbs, and a squeeze of lemon juice. We had it with jacket potatoes, garlic mushrooms and sugar snap peas, but it would also be excellent with creamy mash or some couscous. It was pretty good, the chicken taste remained, but with a basil, lemon flavour, and the sauce was pungent and tangy, which went well with a stodgy potato. I think you could also add some sort of veg to the sauce and make it more of a stew without much difficulty, and a couple of spices would turn it into something rather Moroccan, so I think I will try this one again!
Chocolate dipped strawberries
100 grams of good, dark chocolate (we used lindt)
25-30 ripe, washed and dried strawberries.
The other culinary delight was not down to me at all, but the lovely Rebecca. Seeing Godiva (an excellent chocolate shop) had strawberries dipped in dark chocolate, but unwilling to pay £5.60 per 100 grams (about 3 strawberries) she made her own, with ripe strawberries dipped in chocolate just melted in a bowl over boiling water. They looked most elegant dipped ¾ into the chocolate, with the stalk and a flash of red flesh still visible. After letting them set on greaseproof paper, they were done. They were incredible, but the leftovers were not as good; the fridge made the strawberries too cold and the chocolate too brittle. Definitely for room temperature! She made about 25 for £4 of ingredients, about 30 times cheaper than Godiva!
Lemon and herb chicken
4 chicken legs (or 8 thighs), with the skin on
2 onions
1 lemon
4 or 5 cloves of garlic
A bunch of basil and a bunch of flat-leaved parsley
Olive oil
Butter
Some sherry
I put the chicken in a bowl with a good few dollops of olive oil, the zest of the lemon, a squeeze of lemon juice and half the herbs, roughly chopped. I seasoned it lightly, mushed it all together with my hands, and let it sit whilst I prepared the rest of the ingredients. I put the oven on hot (200 oC at least), then crushed and finely chopped the garlic, then loosely chopped the 2 onions. I also sliced up half the lemon into 8 or so chunks.
I put a heavy frying pan on full heat with some more oil, then once it was hot, I seared the chicken pieces for 5 or so minutes, until it was getting brown on each side and the herbs were burning. I put them in a pyrex dish just big enough for them, and put them in the oven whist I made the sauce.
Turning the heat down a touch, I put in the garlic, and added the onions before the garlic started browning. I added a lump of butter to keep it all frying. Once the onions were looking translucent, I deglazed the pan with a good slosh of sherry, maybe as much as a wine glass. I then threw in most of the rest of the herbs, leaving a few for the end, and the chunks of lemon. After letting it boil for a minute I poured the mixture over the chicken in the oven, and added enough hot water from the kettle to ¾ cover the chicken pieces, and returned the dish to the oven. 20 minutes later, when the top of the dish was starting to burn, and the liquid was bubbling, I covered it in foil and left for another hour.
I served the chicken, then finished the sauce with another knob of butter, the rest of the herbs, and a squeeze of lemon juice. We had it with jacket potatoes, garlic mushrooms and sugar snap peas, but it would also be excellent with creamy mash or some couscous. It was pretty good, the chicken taste remained, but with a basil, lemon flavour, and the sauce was pungent and tangy, which went well with a stodgy potato. I think you could also add some sort of veg to the sauce and make it more of a stew without much difficulty, and a couple of spices would turn it into something rather Moroccan, so I think I will try this one again!
Chocolate dipped strawberries
100 grams of good, dark chocolate (we used lindt)
25-30 ripe, washed and dried strawberries.
The other culinary delight was not down to me at all, but the lovely Rebecca. Seeing Godiva (an excellent chocolate shop) had strawberries dipped in dark chocolate, but unwilling to pay £5.60 per 100 grams (about 3 strawberries) she made her own, with ripe strawberries dipped in chocolate just melted in a bowl over boiling water. They looked most elegant dipped ¾ into the chocolate, with the stalk and a flash of red flesh still visible. After letting them set on greaseproof paper, they were done. They were incredible, but the leftovers were not as good; the fridge made the strawberries too cold and the chocolate too brittle. Definitely for room temperature! She made about 25 for £4 of ingredients, about 30 times cheaper than Godiva!
Sunday, 8 April 2007
Arkansas BBQ sauce
So, I decided to do justice to those ribs left over from the home-cure bacon belly in the classic American fashion. I found this recipe for "Arkansas BBQ sauce" through the magic of Google and did a little editing to come up with (in more standard units):
• 120ml water
• 85g brown sugar
• 90ml Worcestershire sauce
• Large tablespoon Dijon mustard (or slightly more American mustard if you have) (or very much less English mustard!)
• 60ml tomato ketchup
• Teaspoon ground black pepper
• 1 fresh red chilli, de-seeded and finely chopped
• 700ml red wine vinegar (yes, this is a lot!)
• 250ml white wine
• A pinch of salt (NOT the 85g in this recipe!)
Shoved everything in a NON ALUMINIUM pan, brought to the boil and simmered pretty strongly for about 45 minutes. The ketchup seemed to go white and clumpy at the start, which wasn't pretty, but sorted itself out. I did make the mistake of breathing in the pan fumes to see what they smelt like. Don't try this... the vinegar is rather potent!
It didn't reduce as much as I had thought, but what the hell - maybe I'll try simmering for longer next time. Put the ribs in a (again, not aluminium) oven dish, poured over the BBQ liquid and marinaded for about an hour. Not strictly necessary, but probably improves the flavour. Then in the oven at about 180 degrees C for 45 minutes, turning once.
Quite a lot of liquid remained at the end. Ribs were very tasty (perhaps a little vinegary), if I say so myself - not massively sticky, but certainly BBQ.
• 120ml water
• 85g brown sugar
• 90ml Worcestershire sauce
• Large tablespoon Dijon mustard (or slightly more American mustard if you have) (or very much less English mustard!)
• 60ml tomato ketchup
• Teaspoon ground black pepper
• 1 fresh red chilli, de-seeded and finely chopped
• 700ml red wine vinegar (yes, this is a lot!)
• 250ml white wine
• A pinch of salt (NOT the 85g in this recipe!)
Shoved everything in a NON ALUMINIUM pan, brought to the boil and simmered pretty strongly for about 45 minutes. The ketchup seemed to go white and clumpy at the start, which wasn't pretty, but sorted itself out. I did make the mistake of breathing in the pan fumes to see what they smelt like. Don't try this... the vinegar is rather potent!
It didn't reduce as much as I had thought, but what the hell - maybe I'll try simmering for longer next time. Put the ribs in a (again, not aluminium) oven dish, poured over the BBQ liquid and marinaded for about an hour. Not strictly necessary, but probably improves the flavour. Then in the oven at about 180 degrees C for 45 minutes, turning once.
Quite a lot of liquid remained at the end. Ribs were very tasty (perhaps a little vinegary), if I say so myself - not massively sticky, but certainly BBQ.
Saturday, 7 April 2007
Home-cured bacon: Day 1
By far my favourite food writer is Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, and by far my favourite food book his excellent The River Cottage Meat Book. It therefore seems appropriate that the first bit of food exploration that I babble on about here is inspired by that very book: home-cured bacon.It turns out that making your own bacon (I'm not talking in euphemisms here, by the way) isn't particularly difficult. In fact, for me the most difficult part was finding five straight days where I knew I could devote ten minutes to the hunk of meat. Days finally found, it was off to the butchers...
£11 bought me more or less a whole belly of pork. Actually, I'm not positive that this is a whole belly - from descriptions of belly size, I was expecting something a little longer (more 1m than the 60cm this approximated to). Certainly enough to get started on though. A small effort to remove the bones (which went on to be some pretty tasty BBQ ribs - more another time) and a slice across the middle to product two roughly square belly pieces and it was ready for the cure.
For the cure, I followed Hugh's lead and combined:• About a kilo of sea salt
• 200g brown sugar
• a few finely chopped bay leaves (I used fresh, but dried should do)
• a dozen or more crushed juniper berries
• about 25g ground black pepper
Lots of recipes also include a couple of spoons of saltpetre, which I didn't have. Not compulsory, but if you wish I've subsequently found a fair bit of information on this page.
Important to note that you shouldn't use a metallic bowl at any point: the salt will wreak havoc.
I rubbed a few handfuls (not all!) of the cure into the belly pieces - I had to rub quite hard to get it to really stick. Note this is a messy process - do outside, or at least over a sink! Then stack the belly pieces on top of each other in a (non-metallic!) container; I was really classy and went for the washing up bowl.
All that was left was to weight down the bellies to help squeeze out that belly-bacon separating liquid. Branston Baked Beans (sorry, Heinz - your taste really doesn't stack up) and a couple of tins of Baxters Mushroom Potage provided the necessary mass and the whole thing disappeared into the fridge... until day two.
A quick introduction
Very briefly, and hopefully from not too far up my own arse: I'm hoping that this blog will allow myself and a few others to record some 'hopefully tasty' recipes, recommendations and facts for friends, family and others who may stumble across it.
Actually, that about sums it up. Enjoy!
Actually, that about sums it up. Enjoy!
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