Wednesday, 23 December 2009
addenda...
I was chuckling over this Pork, knife and spoon blog - found at the height of my pork obsession when I don't seem to manage a day without sausages or bacon - when I found it was linked to this really good Gluten-Free Girl blog. I don't need gluten free food, but I can never pass up a recipe, and these cinnamon rolls look really wonderful.
Tuesday, 22 December 2009
virtual feasts
How very exciting. Do you see I have a comment from another venerable blogger? It fired me up to see the excellent Turmeric and Saffron blog. It also reminded me that although I save food-related bookmarks to delicious, I haven't updated my list of links here (on the right of this page) so have set to sharing some new favourites. Many have been recommended by Bert whenever she sees a good recipe to pass on.
I recently tried 'Stumbleupon', a website which directs you to recommended - and therefore, generally the best of the internet - websites, on topics you specify you are interested in. It is terrifically easy, and with great serendipity the first website I stumbled upon was 'Tastespotting', a veritable treat : a sort of epicenter of food blogs. A place where all good food blogs are sucked into and each displayed via one hungry-making picture. A place where one loses all sense of time as you click on the 'dirty kitchen secrets' link, or the picture of a gingerbread-house-garnish to perch on the edge of your festive hot chocolate mug. The cheesecake brownie is the best one to have caught my eye, though. A snug fit for HG's birthday cake if ever I saw one.
I also spend a lot of time looking at the Guardian 'Word of Mouth' food blogs - and reading comments from the legion followers - but have missed it off the list. For the same reasons I don't have the BBC good food, Times Online archives of Giles Coren or AA Gill, or any other of the big ones I enjoy to read: you already know about them. I also omitted Nigella Lawson's website, but only because I already devote too much time to (re)reading her books. Or maybe the pink heart background puts me off a little -?
I have a couple of very exciting library-related finds which will have to wait until January for further investigation.
I recently tried 'Stumbleupon', a website which directs you to recommended - and therefore, generally the best of the internet - websites, on topics you specify you are interested in. It is terrifically easy, and with great serendipity the first website I stumbled upon was 'Tastespotting', a veritable treat : a sort of epicenter of food blogs. A place where all good food blogs are sucked into and each displayed via one hungry-making picture. A place where one loses all sense of time as you click on the 'dirty kitchen secrets' link, or the picture of a gingerbread-house-garnish to perch on the edge of your festive hot chocolate mug. The cheesecake brownie is the best one to have caught my eye, though. A snug fit for HG's birthday cake if ever I saw one.
I also spend a lot of time looking at the Guardian 'Word of Mouth' food blogs - and reading comments from the legion followers - but have missed it off the list. For the same reasons I don't have the BBC good food, Times Online archives of Giles Coren or AA Gill, or any other of the big ones I enjoy to read: you already know about them. I also omitted Nigella Lawson's website, but only because I already devote too much time to (re)reading her books. Or maybe the pink heart background puts me off a little -?
I have a couple of very exciting library-related finds which will have to wait until January for further investigation.
Monday, 7 December 2009
light fan-Tas-tic
It is said that 'energy breeds energy', to mean that the more you exercise the more you want to: in the same way, I think good food breeds good food. Today's good breakfast led to a wonderful lunch... who knows what will happen this evening!
Fearing a breakfast slump of the type only experienced in 2007 (dark days indeed), I decided to perk up my morning with some savoury muffins and fried sausages. I was so excited that I actually woke up at 4 or 5 am, worried I had over-slept, and feeling as I had years ago on Christmas mornings when my sisters and I were so impatient to start the day. Oh for that enthusiasm now!
I had measured out the dry ingredients the night before, so in the morning I just put together the wet ingredients, grated some cheese, mixed the whole lot together and dolloped it into moulds. I chucked chipolata sausages into a frying pan and went to get dressed while the gent kept an eye on everything and made coffee. A shower later and all was ready. Given how gloomy the morning was, this was the best possible start to the day: hot, salty calories and a cooking smell to rouse even the laziest of appetites. The muffins were more heavy than sweet muffins, not at all the same texture, but welcomingly so. A couple of these were quite a defence against mid-morning hunger.
In fact, their only rivals for top-savoury-bake this year would be the watercress scones I found at a Saturday market in Alton - truly scrumptious, as the song would have it.
Lunch at Tas was fantastic. I went with work colleagues and we shared around seven meze dishes with wonderful, fresh flavours; then I had a main dish of 'kalamari', perfectly, crispily cooked, and served with a walnut sauce. I'm not sure these are flavours that I would choose to put together again - a squeeze of lemon was sufficient for me - however, the walnut sauce was beautiful in its own right, and would be pretty amazing with pasta. Next task: try and re-create the walnut sauce at home!
http://www.tasrestaurant.com/
7/12/09
Fearing a breakfast slump of the type only experienced in 2007 (dark days indeed), I decided to perk up my morning with some savoury muffins and fried sausages. I was so excited that I actually woke up at 4 or 5 am, worried I had over-slept, and feeling as I had years ago on Christmas mornings when my sisters and I were so impatient to start the day. Oh for that enthusiasm now!
I had measured out the dry ingredients the night before, so in the morning I just put together the wet ingredients, grated some cheese, mixed the whole lot together and dolloped it into moulds. I chucked chipolata sausages into a frying pan and went to get dressed while the gent kept an eye on everything and made coffee. A shower later and all was ready. Given how gloomy the morning was, this was the best possible start to the day: hot, salty calories and a cooking smell to rouse even the laziest of appetites. The muffins were more heavy than sweet muffins, not at all the same texture, but welcomingly so. A couple of these were quite a defence against mid-morning hunger.
In fact, their only rivals for top-savoury-bake this year would be the watercress scones I found at a Saturday market in Alton - truly scrumptious, as the song would have it.
Lunch at Tas was fantastic. I went with work colleagues and we shared around seven meze dishes with wonderful, fresh flavours; then I had a main dish of 'kalamari', perfectly, crispily cooked, and served with a walnut sauce. I'm not sure these are flavours that I would choose to put together again - a squeeze of lemon was sufficient for me - however, the walnut sauce was beautiful in its own right, and would be pretty amazing with pasta. Next task: try and re-create the walnut sauce at home!
http://www.tasrestaurant.com/
7/12/09
Friday, 27 November 2009
Perfect Persian
The first recipe cooked from my Persian cook book was chicken and orange stew. I found myself itching to fiddle with the ingredients - as always - but decided to cook it as suggested, then make changes next time. I think it only fair to give a recipe a fighting chance on its first outing. Hard as it was, I didn't even add cardamom or otherwise mess with the ‘plain boiled rice’ suggested to serve alongside.
Despite having few ingredients, the stew took a surprisingly long time to prepare. I was sorely grateful to the gent who quietly set to julienne-ing the orange peel and carrots whilst I got on with the rest: without him there would have been fluster and hunger. The orange peel is boiled and drained several times, presumably to remove some of the bitterness, but which creates a gorgeous marmalade fug in the kitchen: as Seville oranges are not in season, the book suggests to use sweet oranges and add lime juice to achieve the required sourness.
The outcome was a very delicately flavoured, thinly juiced stew. It wasn’t as sour as I expected (or hoped) so I am keen to try again with Seville oranges, as the recipe calls for, when the season arrives. The tangle of bright shredded orange peel and carrots was visually beautiful as well as adding the sweet/sour flavour, and the pistachio and almond nut garnish added a fantastic contrasting texture. In fact it seemed to crown the dish and make it doubly beautiful.
Although labour-intensive with some fiddly stages, the ingredients for the stew were not expensive or difficult to source. As such, I think it a perfect January weekend dish for when there is time to potter in the kitchen, and the bitter oranges are bountiful. I hope to find a few more treasures of this sort in the Persian book; dishes that have a sense of ceremony in the making, are a notch above average when cooking for friends, and yet not be elaborate to the point of onerous. Curious but, I sense, curiously addictive.
Despite having few ingredients, the stew took a surprisingly long time to prepare. I was sorely grateful to the gent who quietly set to julienne-ing the orange peel and carrots whilst I got on with the rest: without him there would have been fluster and hunger. The orange peel is boiled and drained several times, presumably to remove some of the bitterness, but which creates a gorgeous marmalade fug in the kitchen: as Seville oranges are not in season, the book suggests to use sweet oranges and add lime juice to achieve the required sourness.
The outcome was a very delicately flavoured, thinly juiced stew. It wasn’t as sour as I expected (or hoped) so I am keen to try again with Seville oranges, as the recipe calls for, when the season arrives. The tangle of bright shredded orange peel and carrots was visually beautiful as well as adding the sweet/sour flavour, and the pistachio and almond nut garnish added a fantastic contrasting texture. In fact it seemed to crown the dish and make it doubly beautiful.
Although labour-intensive with some fiddly stages, the ingredients for the stew were not expensive or difficult to source. As such, I think it a perfect January weekend dish for when there is time to potter in the kitchen, and the bitter oranges are bountiful. I hope to find a few more treasures of this sort in the Persian book; dishes that have a sense of ceremony in the making, are a notch above average when cooking for friends, and yet not be elaborate to the point of onerous. Curious but, I sense, curiously addictive.
Monday, 23 November 2009
Two delicious things to do with a pheasant
A delightful visit to the coast brought magnificent eating gifts in the form of Mrs I's roast lamb, a visit to the Millstream (more of that, later), and a pheasant and home-grown butternut squash to bring back to the big smoke. A delicious, Sussex pheasant already plucked and prepared and be-headed. Phew. For some reason I never got round to the gruesome bit of being a country girl, so not having to prep the pheasant was a great relief.
Half of the butternut squash was put to service immediately. It was chopped in two, roasted until soft and roughly scooped / chopped on top of a very plain risotto, made only with white onion and vegetable stock. Sage leaves fried in butter went atop, and some greens alongside. I love some green. It was sweet, filling and heavenly.
A couple of days later, it was time for pheasant. I peeled and chunked the rest of the butternut squash, roasting it with red onion for about half an hour before popping the bird on top and giving it a thin blanket of streaky bacon. After 30 minutes the pheasant was still a little too pink, but another 5-10 minutes rendered it perfect. The gent brought a beautiful red wine along* using his ever-ready skills to match to the dish, and we used a dash to de-glaze the roasting pan and make some gravy. Sprouts are my absolute favourite so I am undoubtedly biased, but I think their bitterness goes amazingly well with the sweet squash and salty bacon (indeed, almost anything): a mid-week feast which ended in a hands-on, thigh-bone-sucking delight.
The gent and I had pretty much demolished the whole pheasant but still the carcass looked tempting, so a few days later the remaining handful of roast flesh was set aside, and the carcass was boiled into a dark stock. Onions, garlic and streaky bacon made the basis of a risotto and the pheasant stock silkily ladled in. Once cooked, a chunk of butter and the handful of leftover pheasant flesh was stirred through, and left for a couple of minutes off-heat. Meanwhile, some roasted chestnuts had been roughly chopped up and nubbled around in foaming butter to pour atop the mound of risotto. The gent came armed with gifts in either hand: a bottle of red he had been nurturing in his wine nursery** and a cheeky young savoy cabbage to steam and sit alongside the risotto. Parmesan was unanimously rejected as being completely wrong.
I actually think I enjoyed this meal more than the roast: using a proper stock makes such a different dish to using vegetable stock (Marigold powder being the staple chez Roy), the whole dish tastes just that bit richer and the rice is more unctuous and never claggy. I can never decide if the leftovers-meal is actually more delicious, or if the joy of using up scraps somehow heightens the eating pleasure? Frugality as salt? Either way, I always save a cup of rice or a few naked bones in the hopes of an unexpected delight the next day.
Well there are three recipes when I promised only two: that's the kind of good service you get round here. Have a nice day! Please tell your family and come again soon!
* el gent: it would be a complete delight if you could name it, for posterity... it was the easy-going fruity one which gave up its delights without a blush
** Casillero del Diablo -?
Half of the butternut squash was put to service immediately. It was chopped in two, roasted until soft and roughly scooped / chopped on top of a very plain risotto, made only with white onion and vegetable stock. Sage leaves fried in butter went atop, and some greens alongside. I love some green. It was sweet, filling and heavenly.
A couple of days later, it was time for pheasant. I peeled and chunked the rest of the butternut squash, roasting it with red onion for about half an hour before popping the bird on top and giving it a thin blanket of streaky bacon. After 30 minutes the pheasant was still a little too pink, but another 5-10 minutes rendered it perfect. The gent brought a beautiful red wine along* using his ever-ready skills to match to the dish, and we used a dash to de-glaze the roasting pan and make some gravy. Sprouts are my absolute favourite so I am undoubtedly biased, but I think their bitterness goes amazingly well with the sweet squash and salty bacon (indeed, almost anything): a mid-week feast which ended in a hands-on, thigh-bone-sucking delight.
The gent and I had pretty much demolished the whole pheasant but still the carcass looked tempting, so a few days later the remaining handful of roast flesh was set aside, and the carcass was boiled into a dark stock. Onions, garlic and streaky bacon made the basis of a risotto and the pheasant stock silkily ladled in. Once cooked, a chunk of butter and the handful of leftover pheasant flesh was stirred through, and left for a couple of minutes off-heat. Meanwhile, some roasted chestnuts had been roughly chopped up and nubbled around in foaming butter to pour atop the mound of risotto. The gent came armed with gifts in either hand: a bottle of red he had been nurturing in his wine nursery** and a cheeky young savoy cabbage to steam and sit alongside the risotto. Parmesan was unanimously rejected as being completely wrong.
I actually think I enjoyed this meal more than the roast: using a proper stock makes such a different dish to using vegetable stock (Marigold powder being the staple chez Roy), the whole dish tastes just that bit richer and the rice is more unctuous and never claggy. I can never decide if the leftovers-meal is actually more delicious, or if the joy of using up scraps somehow heightens the eating pleasure? Frugality as salt? Either way, I always save a cup of rice or a few naked bones in the hopes of an unexpected delight the next day.
Well there are three recipes when I promised only two: that's the kind of good service you get round here. Have a nice day! Please tell your family and come again soon!
* el gent: it would be a complete delight if you could name it, for posterity... it was the easy-going fruity one which gave up its delights without a blush
** Casillero del Diablo -?
Thursday, 29 October 2009
Food, glorious food!
What isn't made better by food?
After a trying couple of days and a few black moments, I came home to a bowl of sugarless alpen and a mint tea. I will grant you, it didn't look promising to my cold soul, but somehow it revived me marvellously. My nerves are calmed, the ghosts vanished from the corners of the room. The most meagre meal and yet still it has such a good effect.
It goes against my nature, but tomorrow I'm going to get up early and eat a proper breakfast including sharp cox's apples to wake up my tastebuds, and museli. And a nice Monmouth coffee - this is about making the world look better, after all!
After a trying couple of days and a few black moments, I came home to a bowl of sugarless alpen and a mint tea. I will grant you, it didn't look promising to my cold soul, but somehow it revived me marvellously. My nerves are calmed, the ghosts vanished from the corners of the room. The most meagre meal and yet still it has such a good effect.
It goes against my nature, but tomorrow I'm going to get up early and eat a proper breakfast including sharp cox's apples to wake up my tastebuds, and museli. And a nice Monmouth coffee - this is about making the world look better, after all!
Monday, 26 October 2009
thank you, Ikea
That rustling noise is me turning over a new leaf. Yes, again.
I am going to cook more and I start tonight. Ikea is partly the reason, the other being that autumn feeling of plenty - of harvest, pumpkins, deep stews and sticky meat that creeps through me like sap rising, to show it is autumn. Another wave of my cooking mojo returning.
In January I decided to cook a good deal from my book of Persian food* and, as with all resolutions, I tell someone so that I can't forget, or back out. Ten months later I haven't so much as opened the book and am vexed to my very soul about this. I really wanted to discover how to use some new ingredients and find some canny little recipe that just does in that sad, hungry, post-work moment. I also really wanted to use some of the fantastic cook books that I read as novels - on the bus, before bed - but never cook from.
What has Ikea to do with it? I only needed one bookcase of specific proportions, but knew it would be a gruelling evening as any trip to Ikea ends in hating oneself and everyone in sight. I saw a picture of the famous meatballs and, with jollity, decided to pre-empt the horror and head straight to the cafe. To try the meatballs! They looked awful but at least I will have tried them and be able to criticise them 'from the heart' as they say on Master Chef. There was one poor man serving a queue of about 500, the meatballs were counted onto your plate, potatoes added, and then you are given the option of 'berries and gravy': the former is jam, the latter a strange yellow liquid. If I could have found a fork I would have been happier. Or a table to sit at. Plus, it was no cheaper than an Itsu duck soup. Let's draw a veil over the rest: sadly, I never discerned what was in the yellow gravy.
Generic Ikea horror ensued: after 15 minutes I was bedazzled by choice and hadn't even got past stroking sofa covers, and admiring incidental vases. The hour mark saw me in a pretend child's bedroom gazing at an ugly lampshade. Another 10 minutes and I was in tears of indecision about which of the 47 bookcases I really wanted, and in which colour. The mist only really cleared as, Billy bookcase paid for and too heavy for me to lift, I realised the delivery service would be twice the price of the goods. So I hand-picked the most angry taxi driver to get me home. Of course, if I hadn't had the meatballs I would have had the right cash to pay him... and when I realised I was missing a crucial screw, I blamed the meatballs all over again.
My room is a pile of boxes and half-built shelving, which will have to stay like that for the next ten days (or-Royal-Mail-so) until the screw arrives in the post. The best I can make of the situation is to use this as an excuse to ignore my room - which still needs unpacking - and any chores therein, and spend my evenings in the kitchen instead. I also need to override the food-memory of those meatballs: and so, I cook.
The nursery slopes for a tired Monday night: red Thai curry. My love of it never really went away and I had a beautiful bit of cabbage left to use up. My main change is being less afraid of the nam pla, which I really disliked at first, and being much less scared of making it spicy. I now also have leftovers for lunch for a couple of days, and a warm glow that might just be smugness.
For the past hour I have been at the kitchen table reading Nigel Slater's 'The kitchen diaries' and my Persian cook book. Bliss. I am also writing a list of my fantasy-best coffee morning cakes, in anticipation of getting some cake-lovers around the table on a Saturday morning. I'm so excited I have even started choosing which coffee to get from Monmouth. Is it too much to match coffee to the cake?
I've written three lists already, am planning a family meal I won't have to do until 2010, and my head is half-way to having cooked everything. If only I could get up tomorrow and head straight to the butchers! Some days work really gets in the way of living.
*For bibliophiles out there: 'The legendary cuisine of Persia' by Margaret Shaida, Grub Street 2006, and first published by Lieuse Publications 1992 for those, like me, who find such things interesting. Purchased with a token given to me by a librarian committee I sat on until last year. I like to remember that as I gaze on the 'jewelled rice' illustration.
'The kitchen diaries' by Nigel Slater, Fourth estate (an imprint of HarperCollins), 2005
I am going to cook more and I start tonight. Ikea is partly the reason, the other being that autumn feeling of plenty - of harvest, pumpkins, deep stews and sticky meat that creeps through me like sap rising, to show it is autumn. Another wave of my cooking mojo returning.
In January I decided to cook a good deal from my book of Persian food* and, as with all resolutions, I tell someone so that I can't forget, or back out. Ten months later I haven't so much as opened the book and am vexed to my very soul about this. I really wanted to discover how to use some new ingredients and find some canny little recipe that just does in that sad, hungry, post-work moment. I also really wanted to use some of the fantastic cook books that I read as novels - on the bus, before bed - but never cook from.
What has Ikea to do with it? I only needed one bookcase of specific proportions, but knew it would be a gruelling evening as any trip to Ikea ends in hating oneself and everyone in sight. I saw a picture of the famous meatballs and, with jollity, decided to pre-empt the horror and head straight to the cafe. To try the meatballs! They looked awful but at least I will have tried them and be able to criticise them 'from the heart' as they say on Master Chef. There was one poor man serving a queue of about 500, the meatballs were counted onto your plate, potatoes added, and then you are given the option of 'berries and gravy': the former is jam, the latter a strange yellow liquid. If I could have found a fork I would have been happier. Or a table to sit at. Plus, it was no cheaper than an Itsu duck soup. Let's draw a veil over the rest: sadly, I never discerned what was in the yellow gravy.
Generic Ikea horror ensued: after 15 minutes I was bedazzled by choice and hadn't even got past stroking sofa covers, and admiring incidental vases. The hour mark saw me in a pretend child's bedroom gazing at an ugly lampshade. Another 10 minutes and I was in tears of indecision about which of the 47 bookcases I really wanted, and in which colour. The mist only really cleared as, Billy bookcase paid for and too heavy for me to lift, I realised the delivery service would be twice the price of the goods. So I hand-picked the most angry taxi driver to get me home. Of course, if I hadn't had the meatballs I would have had the right cash to pay him... and when I realised I was missing a crucial screw, I blamed the meatballs all over again.
My room is a pile of boxes and half-built shelving, which will have to stay like that for the next ten days (or-Royal-Mail-so) until the screw arrives in the post. The best I can make of the situation is to use this as an excuse to ignore my room - which still needs unpacking - and any chores therein, and spend my evenings in the kitchen instead. I also need to override the food-memory of those meatballs: and so, I cook.
The nursery slopes for a tired Monday night: red Thai curry. My love of it never really went away and I had a beautiful bit of cabbage left to use up. My main change is being less afraid of the nam pla, which I really disliked at first, and being much less scared of making it spicy. I now also have leftovers for lunch for a couple of days, and a warm glow that might just be smugness.
For the past hour I have been at the kitchen table reading Nigel Slater's 'The kitchen diaries' and my Persian cook book. Bliss. I am also writing a list of my fantasy-best coffee morning cakes, in anticipation of getting some cake-lovers around the table on a Saturday morning. I'm so excited I have even started choosing which coffee to get from Monmouth. Is it too much to match coffee to the cake?
I've written three lists already, am planning a family meal I won't have to do until 2010, and my head is half-way to having cooked everything. If only I could get up tomorrow and head straight to the butchers! Some days work really gets in the way of living.
*For bibliophiles out there: 'The legendary cuisine of Persia' by Margaret Shaida, Grub Street 2006, and first published by Lieuse Publications 1992 for those, like me, who find such things interesting. Purchased with a token given to me by a librarian committee I sat on until last year. I like to remember that as I gaze on the 'jewelled rice' illustration.
'The kitchen diaries' by Nigel Slater, Fourth estate (an imprint of HarperCollins), 2005
Monday, 19 October 2009
bloggers-block
I have had so many fantastic meals recently, and seen so many inspiring recipes, that I now have bloggers-block. Where to start? Does entrecote and dauphinoise really take priority over the discovery of more things to do with a quince? Can I look myself in the face each morning, knowing I haven't yet made comment on the sublime chicken soup - accompanied by the clever-clever phrase I found about it being Jewish penicillen?
Not to mention the eye-popping Pirate feast with regular toasts with grog ('here's to swimmin' with bow-legged wimmin.. argghhh!' - from the un-PC mouth of the pirate cap'n).
Instead of tackling the backlog I am having a coffee and pumpkin cheesecake to ease the panic. Oishii !!
Not to mention the eye-popping Pirate feast with regular toasts with grog ('here's to swimmin' with bow-legged wimmin.. argghhh!' - from the un-PC mouth of the pirate cap'n).
Instead of tackling the backlog I am having a coffee and pumpkin cheesecake to ease the panic. Oishii !!
Wednesday, 23 September 2009
Coq and bull story
Do you think that coq-au-vin is complex and time-consuming to make? I always thought this, but one glorious warm September day - perhaps our first lazy day since Cornwall - the gent and I royally trounced this myth. We started the day with brownie and banana bread for breakfast - with special thanks to HG, who bought them for me at the South bank 'Slow Food Fair' (probably on looking at my face which spoke of a work-home vortex of hell). Then, over the paper and after tending plants and clearing a cupboard, decided on the day's food.
Waitrose and Mrs I's garden provided. Lunch was Mrs I tomatoes, basil and salad from the windowsill, fig chutney - invented and made by the gent - two types of cheese, and baguette. The Cornish Nettle Yarg was amazing, rather subtle but with complexities: the strong and silent type, if you will. For fact fans, I just read that 3500kg of nettles are required by the Lynher Dairy for this cheesey purpose alone, each year:
http://www.lynherdairies.co.uk/press-releases.html
Preparing the coq was great. The gent read out Elizabeth David's stern advice on the subject (it isn't strictly necessary to use a cockerel, we were relieved to hear) and also Nigella Lawson's low fat version from 'How to eat'. She is much vaunted as the epitome of lush larding, but everyone forgets her low-cal roots. Anyway. We took the latter recipe, but left the skin on the chicken and chose streaky bacon etc. to re-lard the dish. Between us, it was no more work than any other stew or casserole, even with the flashy finishing touch of igniting brandy. Would it be vin-glorious to say it was completely delicious?
Discussion of the day: does it matter which wine you use to cook with? One school of thought suggests you shouldn't put it in the pot if you wouldn't drink it; whilst the other says you can't appreciate the wine properly once heated - so why waste the good stuff? We didn't - discuss - but I feel the gent and I fall fairly neatly either side of this divide! Thoughts on this very welcome...
Waitrose and Mrs I's garden provided. Lunch was Mrs I tomatoes, basil and salad from the windowsill, fig chutney - invented and made by the gent - two types of cheese, and baguette. The Cornish Nettle Yarg was amazing, rather subtle but with complexities: the strong and silent type, if you will. For fact fans, I just read that 3500kg of nettles are required by the Lynher Dairy for this cheesey purpose alone, each year:
http://www.lynherdairies.co.uk/press-releases.html
Preparing the coq was great. The gent read out Elizabeth David's stern advice on the subject (it isn't strictly necessary to use a cockerel, we were relieved to hear) and also Nigella Lawson's low fat version from 'How to eat'. She is much vaunted as the epitome of lush larding, but everyone forgets her low-cal roots. Anyway. We took the latter recipe, but left the skin on the chicken and chose streaky bacon etc. to re-lard the dish. Between us, it was no more work than any other stew or casserole, even with the flashy finishing touch of igniting brandy. Would it be vin-glorious to say it was completely delicious?
Discussion of the day: does it matter which wine you use to cook with? One school of thought suggests you shouldn't put it in the pot if you wouldn't drink it; whilst the other says you can't appreciate the wine properly once heated - so why waste the good stuff? We didn't - discuss - but I feel the gent and I fall fairly neatly either side of this divide! Thoughts on this very welcome...
Tuesday, 22 September 2009
In brief
Browsing some Coren back files I found a review of 'The Drapers Arms' which, delightfully, is in my area. More delightfully, it was compared - but not contrasted - to St. John. Some of the dishes sound almost identical to ones at St. John when we visited in July and I had an immediate yen to do it all again: same people, similar food, different place. And quite a lot cheaper, too.
Incidentally, one of my favourite lines was: 'travel only broadens the mind if the mind starts off narrow'. Which will get added to: 'Travel narrows the mind and broadens the waist'.
This link is to the article in the Giles Coren backfiles at the Times Online:
http://tinyurl.com/lpy2xe
Drapers Arms, 44 Barnsbury St
Incidentally, one of my favourite lines was: 'travel only broadens the mind if the mind starts off narrow'. Which will get added to: 'Travel narrows the mind and broadens the waist'.
This link is to the article in the Giles Coren backfiles at the Times Online:
http://tinyurl.com/lpy2xe
Drapers Arms, 44 Barnsbury St
Monday, 14 September 2009
Pork epiphany
I have had quite a weekend of it. First there was the roast belly pork the gent cooked: 3 hours at 140 degrees, atop a pile of onion and Granny Smith apples. The crackling was sheared off in one piece and put under the grill to, well, crackle, and everything served with (perfect) mashed potato and cabbage. The resulting meat was completely succulent and the fat, layered between the meat, plentiful and juicy but not at all gristly or difficult.
I didn’t anticipate that the joy would continue into the next day. For a train journey down to
It has to be the best sandwich I have ever eaten. And, possibly, the largest.
My father cooked on Sunday night. I was given the options of a vegetable curry or ‘beans etc.’, there being a glut of runner beans in the garden. I chose beans etc. of course, and the 'etc.' this time was a little joint of gammon, roasted under a tin foil blanket.
This time the fat presented itself in a wide halo around two thirds of the meat. As it had been covered to cook, the crust was jammy and sticky, instead of crunchy, and I wasn’t sure I would like it. As a child, pork fat was my anathema - for the hideous oyster-texture as much as the gristly bits. So I cut a wobbly flabby bit of fat with its sticky edge, dipped it in the juices swimming in the plate, and ate it. More tasty than the meat itself, salty, melting. Converted. Hidden in the kitchen, pretending to carve seconds, I rather gorged on the fat, cutting it away in chunks and eating it with my fingers. And to think I used to feed this ambrosia to our chickens as ‘leftovers’!
Tuesday, 8 September 2009
Duck or grouse!
I used to waitress in a sweet restaurant in
I love duck. I could eat duck at any moment and the recent post about Confit du Canard shows a new height in ducky obsession. I’m game for game: pheasant, venison, game pie, pigeon pie. But I had never had the opportunity to try grouse.
So when the waiter in the dimly lit, beautifully staffed Locanda Locatelli read out the specials and Grouse was mentioned I knew it was my lucky day. It was just a week after the 'Glorious twelfth' - the start of Grouse season in August - so it was already very much at the forefront of our minds and anticipating stomachs. The Scottish press had suggested it was a 'promising' year for Grouse, too. The gent’s eyes gleamed a little and I could see we were after the same dish.
The first course was like foreplay: a soft-as-clotted-cream goats cheese for me, perfectly dressed, perfectly perfect. The gent indulged in something else altogether. And the wine! The sommelier was charming and knowledgeable, but the gent gently surpassed him and chose an amazing wine which the sommelier approved of heartily. The plonk-chat was lost on me, but I was wild for the performance with a candle and decanting, and the cork being reverently presented in a dish. Top stuff!
It also complimented the grouse madly: I could barely decide which to raise to my mouth, next. The bird was much more gamey than I anticipated. And much pinker, too. The fat lady doesn't sing until the 10th December, so there is plenty of time to reprise the treat yet - and after that, there will still be pheasant. Eating seasonally has never been less of a chore.
Roast belly pork
With the ongoing theme of ‘aren’t I a lucky Roy?’ the gent took to feeding me last week. The salads were beautiful and well dressed, the pasta with sausagey tomato sauce was deliciously filling... and then there was roast belly pork.
A Borough Market excursion to meet a sister and neph started with the very best coffee I have had in a long time (Monmouth, of course), and a gent-foraged, sublime, enormous bacon and egg bap; and ended with the wild purchase of pork belly and wine to match.
As I recall, through the heady haze of anticipation, the gent cooked the pork thus: the top was rubbed liberally with salt, the whole thing roasted on a highish heat so the fat crisped. Then the crackling was sliced off the pork. The pork returned to the oven for a bit longer on a lesser temperature, and the crackling put under the grill to do its stuff.
A succulent pig, a delicious evening... aren't I a lucky Roy?!
Thursday, 3 September 2009
cornish delight
The Greenhouse, St. Keverne, Cornwall
www.tgor.co.uk
So small it was almost like a front room turned restaurant, and run by just two rather dedicated people, I loved The Greenhouse from first bite of chewy new bread to the last spoon of pud. The alpha and omega of dining.
The menu was full of seafood and local produce. I know 'seasonal' and 'local' food is the big fat middle-class cliche of our time, but here it was sincere and so easily the best bet - given the plethora of farms in the area, and the sea pretty much acting as doorstep.
One of the multi-tasking two runs bread-making classes, my local hosts reliably informed me. I jested (not) that I would judge the place by their bread - and frankly, it exceeded expectation. I don't know how to describe it without the words 'fresh + chewy + crusty + holey' so I will leave it at that. For the rest, I'm going to give you a medley of what I remember from round the table: I didn't eat four meals.
There were battered sprats 'like giant whitebait' with an aioli, pigeon breasts with crispy fried black pudding, mussels, and a generous scoop of ducks pate on toast. We shared with each other liberally, tasting everything.
The next course was a shore of seafood. Crab with mayonnaise and chips rendered the gent unusually silent, except for the click of shell against plate and a murmur of 'claws are the best bit'. Fish (fried brill?) decorated with more mussels, and a Goan fish curry - at the top end of spicy - pleased Mr and Mrs Host; I had a most delicate, soft baked megrim sole with crab sauce, and just a few buttered potatoes alongside. My lack of notebook shows: I can't recall the names of anything properly, how vexing. I hope the gent can at least recall what we drank, as it was terrific, and two bottles made their way to our table.
The only criticism suggested at our table, was that the starters were perhaps too large: four sprats, for instance, would have been a more perfect size for the appetite whetting morsel a first course should be. Six were more of a meal. Nonetheless, after this barrage of delights, we bravely pushed forward to a pudding course, crossing spoons to share this time. I believe a banana vacherin (?) was polished off with delight on the other side of the table: I was too busy with my face in a treacle tart with Roskilly's clotted cream to take much notice. Dark with treacle, not just golden syrup, this was as amazing as it sounds.
It was a beautiful evening. Locals obviously loved it - as did a certain television celebrity - and I hope it continues to be successful. I couldn't help but notice that this week there is a wild rabbit and mushroom terrine on the menu...
www.tgor.co.uk
So small it was almost like a front room turned restaurant, and run by just two rather dedicated people, I loved The Greenhouse from first bite of chewy new bread to the last spoon of pud. The alpha and omega of dining.
The menu was full of seafood and local produce. I know 'seasonal' and 'local' food is the big fat middle-class cliche of our time, but here it was sincere and so easily the best bet - given the plethora of farms in the area, and the sea pretty much acting as doorstep.
One of the multi-tasking two runs bread-making classes, my local hosts reliably informed me. I jested (not) that I would judge the place by their bread - and frankly, it exceeded expectation. I don't know how to describe it without the words 'fresh + chewy + crusty + holey' so I will leave it at that. For the rest, I'm going to give you a medley of what I remember from round the table: I didn't eat four meals.
There were battered sprats 'like giant whitebait' with an aioli, pigeon breasts with crispy fried black pudding, mussels, and a generous scoop of ducks pate on toast. We shared with each other liberally, tasting everything.
The next course was a shore of seafood. Crab with mayonnaise and chips rendered the gent unusually silent, except for the click of shell against plate and a murmur of 'claws are the best bit'. Fish (fried brill?) decorated with more mussels, and a Goan fish curry - at the top end of spicy - pleased Mr and Mrs Host; I had a most delicate, soft baked megrim sole with crab sauce, and just a few buttered potatoes alongside. My lack of notebook shows: I can't recall the names of anything properly, how vexing. I hope the gent can at least recall what we drank, as it was terrific, and two bottles made their way to our table.
The only criticism suggested at our table, was that the starters were perhaps too large: four sprats, for instance, would have been a more perfect size for the appetite whetting morsel a first course should be. Six were more of a meal. Nonetheless, after this barrage of delights, we bravely pushed forward to a pudding course, crossing spoons to share this time. I believe a banana vacherin (?) was polished off with delight on the other side of the table: I was too busy with my face in a treacle tart with Roskilly's clotted cream to take much notice. Dark with treacle, not just golden syrup, this was as amazing as it sounds.
It was a beautiful evening. Locals obviously loved it - as did a certain television celebrity - and I hope it continues to be successful. I couldn't help but notice that this week there is a wild rabbit and mushroom terrine on the menu...
Monday, 24 August 2009
confit de canard
Confit de canard: five syllables of seduction. In Paris the gent and I had this at Brasserie Balzar, where it came gorgeously crisped, accompanied by a wonderful gravy and sautee potatoes. We enjoyed a wonderful, chewy, strawberry Beaujolais (2006) and the amazing moustache on our waiter. The next restaurant served the confit without gravy, and with fried potatoes. Unforgettable times.
Here is the perennially wonderful Nigel on the subject:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2003/feb/09/foodanddrink.shopping6
To find the optimal way of cooking this the smartest thing to do, of course, iwould be to look at recipes and writing from the best cookery writers. However, I am curious about how much of a difference the differing methods make. I am keen to make this myself so I can play with the curing stage, and the time spent poaching in fat. I would, secondarily, be interested to see if the the length of time it is stored in the hard-fat block changes the end product.
In my grand plan I will make three versions varying the curing stage and treat them the same for the rest of the cooking stages. Then from this, I will take the best curing method and start again: cure it the best way and cook it for three different lengths of time to find the optimal result.
Now all I need is an empty weekend, a kitchen to myself, and a working oven.
Here is the perennially wonderful Nigel on the subject:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2003/feb/09/foodanddrink.shopping6
To find the optimal way of cooking this the smartest thing to do, of course, iwould be to look at recipes and writing from the best cookery writers. However, I am curious about how much of a difference the differing methods make. I am keen to make this myself so I can play with the curing stage, and the time spent poaching in fat. I would, secondarily, be interested to see if the the length of time it is stored in the hard-fat block changes the end product.
In my grand plan I will make three versions varying the curing stage and treat them the same for the rest of the cooking stages. Then from this, I will take the best curing method and start again: cure it the best way and cook it for three different lengths of time to find the optimal result.
Now all I need is an empty weekend, a kitchen to myself, and a working oven.
Saturday, 15 August 2009
Hobnobbing
I didn't realise how much I utilise the oven until over-summering in this flat without one.
I have several times planned an oven-cooked meal and had the raw ingredients in my shopping basket, before recalling that I have only a hob to cook with. One shameful supermarket chicken pie - now languishing in the freezer - made it all the way home and out of the cardboard before I remembered. I actually considered how else I could make it edible - slicing it up to fry? Steam?
The last thing to catch me out was planning this Italian aubergine dish, which Bert had raved about:
http://www.lifestylefood.com.au/recipes/1993/eggplant-parmigiana-melanzana-alla-parmigiana
I have been meaning to make this for some time from an Anna del Conte recipe but am separated from my cook books. And, as I later recalled, aubergine in hand, oven. So until I am back in my own flat, this dish will have to go on the backburner.
Is it wrong to laugh at your own jokes?
I have several times planned an oven-cooked meal and had the raw ingredients in my shopping basket, before recalling that I have only a hob to cook with. One shameful supermarket chicken pie - now languishing in the freezer - made it all the way home and out of the cardboard before I remembered. I actually considered how else I could make it edible - slicing it up to fry? Steam?
The last thing to catch me out was planning this Italian aubergine dish, which Bert had raved about:
http://www.lifestylefood.com.au/recipes/1993/eggplant-parmigiana-melanzana-alla-parmigiana
I have been meaning to make this for some time from an Anna del Conte recipe but am separated from my cook books. And, as I later recalled, aubergine in hand, oven. So until I am back in my own flat, this dish will have to go on the backburner.
Is it wrong to laugh at your own jokes?
Wednesday, 22 July 2009
Cooking comfort
I am frazzled. I have had such a wonderful month - two blogs nearly completed to describe it all - but I have barely had a night at home.
Tonight I needed a quick fix of comfort so I made cauliflower cheese, my top nursery food. I can't go without carbs at bedtime, so I had this with rice (incidentally, macaroni is my usual pairing). I made the cheese sauce with a dab of English mustard and mature cheddar - and extra cheddar shaved over: a blanket of comfort.
Last week I returned from a visit to my Mother laden with her garden produce: tomato (including tigerella toms), cabbage, runner beans and baby courgettes in yellow and green. Something my mother always cooks with the summer 'glut' is steamed runner beans, served with fried tomato and bacon. That's it: super quick, and ever so fresh tasting. I had a wave of nostalgia from being in my childhood house, so I re-created this dish back in London to remind me of home. I also had gnocchi with it, t
o use up some leftovers, and make it more substantial. No dressing - just the bacon fat drizzled over and pepper ground over.
o use up some leftovers, and make it more substantial. No dressing - just the bacon fat drizzled over and pepper ground over.Tonight I needed a quick fix of comfort so I made cauliflower cheese, my top nursery food. I can't go without carbs at bedtime, so I had this with rice (incidentally, macaroni is my usual pairing). I made the cheese sauce with a dab of English mustard and mature cheddar - and extra cheddar shaved over: a blanket of comfort.
St. John, Smithfield
To start, rolled pig's spleen wrapped in bacon, some vinegary cornichons alongside. We drank 'Domaine des Roy' 2008 - delighting my vanity - which the gent described as 'like a handful of lake reeds dipped in lemon juice'.
JD: 'What is a spleen for?'SD: 'Venting'
SD and PB had an amazing terrine, of which was said: 'How can you, like, mash up a pig and a pigeon and come out with something so light?' and to which I will add, after only a taste I am spoilt for life. I have added terrine to my list of dishes to cook.
At this point we moved on to drink a wine so good that I was moved to take a bad photograph to remember the name: notes reveal it to be 2002 for sure, and 'Laurier domaine' for unsure. The gent and I feasted on pigeon, peas and bacon with buttered greens. The pigeon very pink, very soft, more strongly flavoured than I anticipated.
And so to the finale: Madeleines were freshly baked for us, and a sweet muscat wine imbibed by the gent. The torrential rain and amazing storm which we slipped home in was not enough to quench the inner glow of that whatsit-red, beautiful, inventive food and new friends.
ugly kolrabi!
Some veg-box kolrabi, rescued from neglect in the bottom of the fridge, needed eating. A quick glance through some books brought about this dish, which accompanied fish and potato for a quick dinner.Thinly sliced, raw kolrabi layered up in a shallow bowl
Lemon juice and olive oil
Thyme from the garden, semi-denuded from the twig and scattered over
I was surprised by how tasty this was, and would definitely make it again for a speedy and different supper.
Tuesday, 7 July 2009
birthday food
Having just moved my life into storage for the summer, birthdays were the last thing on my mind. The gent – henceforth to be called ‘The dreamcake’ – soothed me with words of encouragement and housed me for a homeless weekend. (By the foodie by, to say thank you for this I took us to a local Vietnamese place on Saturday evening, which I am still in two minds about. I really want to like it, but it is speedy and shonky rather than delectable.)
Then on Sunday I awoke to scrambled eggs and smoked salmon on muffins, with juice and tea. It was properly the best scrambled egg in the world: buttery and soft. Later I was royally treated to high tea at the palace of tea-time in Stokie: they bake the cakes on the premises and their sandwiches are really delicious. We discussed how to keep sandwiches fresh for picnics, whilst piling jam and cream onto scones, and the dreamcake took photos so we can forever remember the great china and the auspicious day.
We lazed in the park with the papers after this: he read out the restaurant review and I read out bits of an interview with Mr Vivienne Westwood.
A brief savoury interlude of pesto pasta revived us, and then the dreamcake again lived up to his name and revealed a hazelnut cake he had made himself! Imagine! Unable to find ground hazelnuts he had had to roast, skin and be-crumb the nuts himself – an absolute labour of love – with the inventive method of encasing the nuts in greaseproof and bashing with a rolling pin.
Reader, not only was the initial of my name outlined on top of the cake, but the whole thing tasted moist and divine. And with Valdo prosecco alongside, I was in heaven.
It will over-gild the lily to report this, but a birthday isn't a day for modesty, so I will go ahead: I was gifted a box set of original Elizabeth David paperbacks, and 'Venus in the Kitchen' by Pilaff Bey. They are in my new bedroom and I can’t wait to cook from them to test out the stove. And, perhaps, the dreamcake.
Then on Sunday I awoke to scrambled eggs and smoked salmon on muffins, with juice and tea. It was properly the best scrambled egg in the world: buttery and soft. Later I was royally treated to high tea at the palace of tea-time in Stokie: they bake the cakes on the premises and their sandwiches are really delicious. We discussed how to keep sandwiches fresh for picnics, whilst piling jam and cream onto scones, and the dreamcake took photos so we can forever remember the great china and the auspicious day.
We lazed in the park with the papers after this: he read out the restaurant review and I read out bits of an interview with Mr Vivienne Westwood.
A brief savoury interlude of pesto pasta revived us, and then the dreamcake again lived up to his name and revealed a hazelnut cake he had made himself! Imagine! Unable to find ground hazelnuts he had had to roast, skin and be-crumb the nuts himself – an absolute labour of love – with the inventive method of encasing the nuts in greaseproof and bashing with a rolling pin.
Reader, not only was the initial of my name outlined on top of the cake, but the whole thing tasted moist and divine. And with Valdo prosecco alongside, I was in heaven.
It will over-gild the lily to report this, but a birthday isn't a day for modesty, so I will go ahead: I was gifted a box set of original Elizabeth David paperbacks, and 'Venus in the Kitchen' by Pilaff Bey. They are in my new bedroom and I can’t wait to cook from them to test out the stove. And, perhaps, the dreamcake.
Monday, 29 June 2009
Monday, 22 June 2009
and full of vitamin a, too
Busy times, busy eating. But before I can blog any of it, I have a debt to repay.
A while back I offered a carrot hummus recipe I had cooked from a Moro book*, in exchange for the answer to a crossword clue. The clue was guessed, my curiosity satisfied: herewith my repayment.
shopping list:
scrub and chop the carrots into small chunks for roasting. toss about in a roasting tin with a fair amount of virgin olive oil, cover with foil and roast gas 6 (200 degrees c) for around an hour until soft. i thought they would take less cooking, but they are surprisingly recalcitrant.
now you should mash this. the gent nobly tried with a masher, then a potato ricer, but the frustration was least, and the puree finest, using a hand-held whizzy thing. i imagine this is what a food mixer / blender was invented for.
* Casa Moro, published by ebury press.
A while back I offered a carrot hummus recipe I had cooked from a Moro book*, in exchange for the answer to a crossword clue. The clue was guessed, my curiosity satisfied: herewith my repayment.
shopping list:
- the inevitable left over bag of carrots from your box this week / month (limit to around 800 g)
- 100g feta
- a handful of fresh mint
- virgin olive oil
- 1 tbsp caraway seeds, roughly bashed about with pestle and mortar
scrub and chop the carrots into small chunks for roasting. toss about in a roasting tin with a fair amount of virgin olive oil, cover with foil and roast gas 6 (200 degrees c) for around an hour until soft. i thought they would take less cooking, but they are surprisingly recalcitrant.
now you should mash this. the gent nobly tried with a masher, then a potato ricer, but the frustration was least, and the puree finest, using a hand-held whizzy thing. i imagine this is what a food mixer / blender was invented for.
incidentally, the stunning geometric-print tea towel you see there was designed and hand-printed by the talented 'flotsam and jetsam'. if you like it, she sells on etsy.
onwards! stir in the bashed up caraway, half the mint torn or chopped, and a good few glugs of virgin oil - 2 or 3 tbsp - and season to taste. mix well, then turn into a shallow bowl or plate.
crumble the feta over; chop or snip the rest of the mint over; dribble with oil so it pools in the nooks.
Eat this lukewarm, when the flavours seem fuller, with toasted pitta to scoop it up. The book has a really beautiful way of preparing the pitta, which really does make a difference. Moreover, the book is amazing and beautiful and you would be mad not to put it on your Christmas list. Amazon have a wish list facility which anyone can find on google and thus know what to buy to win your affection. Top tip for any altruistic stalkers out there.
We now have three bags of carrots chez Roy, so the lucky gent might find this week's theatre picnic is a taste of the Spanish sun. If I were reading this the next statement would make me unbearably sick with jealousy, so I completely understand that you might hate me when I say, with great excitement, that I am going to Moro soon and I absolutely can't wait.
Convoluted sentence over, I'm off to bed to read the Moro cookbooks.
onwards! stir in the bashed up caraway, half the mint torn or chopped, and a good few glugs of virgin oil - 2 or 3 tbsp - and season to taste. mix well, then turn into a shallow bowl or plate.
crumble the feta over; chop or snip the rest of the mint over; dribble with oil so it pools in the nooks.
Eat this lukewarm, when the flavours seem fuller, with toasted pitta to scoop it up. The book has a really beautiful way of preparing the pitta, which really does make a difference. Moreover, the book is amazing and beautiful and you would be mad not to put it on your Christmas list. Amazon have a wish list facility which anyone can find on google and thus know what to buy to win your affection. Top tip for any altruistic stalkers out there.
We now have three bags of carrots chez Roy, so the lucky gent might find this week's theatre picnic is a taste of the Spanish sun. If I were reading this the next statement would make me unbearably sick with jealousy, so I completely understand that you might hate me when I say, with great excitement, that I am going to Moro soon and I absolutely can't wait.
Convoluted sentence over, I'm off to bed to read the Moro cookbooks.
* Casa Moro, published by ebury press.
Wednesday, 3 June 2009
Last weekend in May
On the most glorious sunny Sunday, after the gent's patented perfect scrambed eggs - this time with smoked salmon, on English muffins - with Monmouth coffee and smoothie, I didn't think the day could get any better.
Really, that should be the review in itself. You should read that sentence and then imagine it lasting half an hour, and then you will nearly have lived it.
Anyway, there is more: we sprung out to the park like May lambs gambolling, lounged with the paper like lizards, made daisy chains like a gardening gaoler ... but it was all too much bliss really. We soon got hungry and went to 'The Dervish' for mezze and a beer. Favourite dishes were broad beans with yogurt, spicy minced lamb pieces (I still have the taste from 'Mangal 2' the week before), and a mellow aubergine dish. We filled our boots for just over a tenner each, the food arrived quickly and tasted of holidays and garlic: in short, it's on the 'love list'.
In other news, I have been reading about the designer 'Alabama Chanin' on Burda Style and found it a brief oasis for my eyes. Although I have to confess that anything that uses the word 'lifestyle' usually makes me roll said eyes. I have an old white dress and had been thinking of stitching over it in white to make it more interesting, and am encouraged to see the same idea looking so beautiful, here:
http://www.alabamachanin.com/content/bridal-page-2
Burda interview with Ms Chanin:
http://www.burdastyle.com/blog/show/952
There is no website for the Dervish, so you'll just have to use your imagination as to the 'lifestyle' it evokes...
Really, that should be the review in itself. You should read that sentence and then imagine it lasting half an hour, and then you will nearly have lived it.
Anyway, there is more: we sprung out to the park like May lambs gambolling, lounged with the paper like lizards, made daisy chains like a gardening gaoler ... but it was all too much bliss really. We soon got hungry and went to 'The Dervish' for mezze and a beer. Favourite dishes were broad beans with yogurt, spicy minced lamb pieces (I still have the taste from 'Mangal 2' the week before), and a mellow aubergine dish. We filled our boots for just over a tenner each, the food arrived quickly and tasted of holidays and garlic: in short, it's on the 'love list'.
In other news, I have been reading about the designer 'Alabama Chanin' on Burda Style and found it a brief oasis for my eyes. Although I have to confess that anything that uses the word 'lifestyle' usually makes me roll said eyes. I have an old white dress and had been thinking of stitching over it in white to make it more interesting, and am encouraged to see the same idea looking so beautiful, here:
http://www.alabamachanin.com/content/bridal-page-2
Burda interview with Ms Chanin:
http://www.burdastyle.com/blog/show/952
There is no website for the Dervish, so you'll just have to use your imagination as to the 'lifestyle' it evokes...
Monday, 1 June 2009
bits and pieces
Quo Vadis was a happy oasis for an impromptu visit on Friday night. After the V&A's 'Hats: an anthology' exhibition, a beer was in order. And after a beer comes food. I always warm to a place that takes scotch eggs or pork pies seriously, and seeing scotch eggs on the menu certified Quo Vadis a good-hearted place.
I had a tasty fish pie served in an individual baby casserole dish, the gent had slow braised ox cheeks which were sticky and meaty, surrounded by rich bacony bits. The greens were garlicky and buttery. I thought it suffered from 'looks small on the plate but mysteriously fills you up' syndrome, but this is always OK in the end, despite any initial anxiety. And then we both attacked a passion fruit brulee with vim. Next time I'd like to try the gull's eggs starter...
http://www.quovadissoho.co.uk/
This website was mentioned in the Guardian Guide this weekend and I wanted to make a note for myself. 'The history of eating utensils': how could anyone resist a peek?
http://research.calacademy.org/research/anthropology/utensil/index.html
I had a tasty fish pie served in an individual baby casserole dish, the gent had slow braised ox cheeks which were sticky and meaty, surrounded by rich bacony bits. The greens were garlicky and buttery. I thought it suffered from 'looks small on the plate but mysteriously fills you up' syndrome, but this is always OK in the end, despite any initial anxiety. And then we both attacked a passion fruit brulee with vim. Next time I'd like to try the gull's eggs starter...
http://www.quovadissoho.co.uk/
This website was mentioned in the Guardian Guide this weekend and I wanted to make a note for myself. 'The history of eating utensils': how could anyone resist a peek?
http://research.calacademy.org/research/anthropology/utensil/index.html
Tuesday, 12 May 2009
if you can't eat it, it's not love
This is out of my blog-league, and completely irrelevant to food, but i am so in love with this blogger, her wonderful style and way of talking - i mean writing - that i have to give her a mention:
http://www.thesmallobject.com/stenopad/wordpress/
I had been thinking recently that it would be good to have somewhere to store information about anything crafty I undertake, but was quite decided that it wouldn't be another blog as I am already so badly disciplined with this food one. I am so entirely sporadic and un-dedicated that it would be massively infrequent: something else to start, neglect and feel bad about.
In addition, being an irritating purist over cataloguing means I can't bring myself to add craft posts to this food blog. Messy, messy! Currently i jot notes and drawings in a book and take photographs to keep track, but - and you knew there would be a but - inspiration has been creeping up on me in waves. First the cheap fabric at Shepherd's Bush market... next the subscription to Vogue... threading up my beautiful Singer sewing machine ... reading up on how to expand a trouser dart ... scribbling down how to make a circle skirt to go Lindy hop dancing in, from here:
http://www.burdastyle.com/
...it all adds up to a bit of an infatuation. I am certain it won't overtake the food though: let's face it, you can't exactly eat sewing. It's just useful to be able to expand a trouser dart when you've eaten too much.
http://www.thesmallobject.com/stenopad/wordpress/
I had been thinking recently that it would be good to have somewhere to store information about anything crafty I undertake, but was quite decided that it wouldn't be another blog as I am already so badly disciplined with this food one. I am so entirely sporadic and un-dedicated that it would be massively infrequent: something else to start, neglect and feel bad about.
In addition, being an irritating purist over cataloguing means I can't bring myself to add craft posts to this food blog. Messy, messy! Currently i jot notes and drawings in a book and take photographs to keep track, but - and you knew there would be a but - inspiration has been creeping up on me in waves. First the cheap fabric at Shepherd's Bush market... next the subscription to Vogue... threading up my beautiful Singer sewing machine ... reading up on how to expand a trouser dart ... scribbling down how to make a circle skirt to go Lindy hop dancing in, from here:
http://www.burdastyle.com/
...it all adds up to a bit of an infatuation. I am certain it won't overtake the food though: let's face it, you can't exactly eat sewing. It's just useful to be able to expand a trouser dart when you've eaten too much.
Thursday, 7 May 2009
love-ly food
I chide myself that I don't seem to have made a note of the superb, if dodgily named, 'Food lab' by 'Mood for food'. I fell in love with it incrementally: first the coffee, then the people, the chilled out music. Then I had a savoury muffin with Rose, which we envisaged as a sweet muffin but stuffed with glorious savoury cheese and bacon and herbs... but which was an ENGLISH muffin filled with bacon and egg. And top notch.
Next I was seduced by the cakes: properly, deliciously home made and the prices not so N1 that I couldn't go back again. But this all felt like dipping one's toe, so the last couple of times I went the whole breakfast hog and had eggs florentine - fast turning into my benchmark breakfast of choice.
And what eggs! Interestingly, on the first occasion the spinach had chilli flakes mixed through which, though not an upfront flavour, gave a delicious background note. The second time, the flakes came as a wide, sprinkled smile under the muffin/egg eyes. Disconcerting and it didn't taste as well, but I still thoroughly enjoyed it.
The eggs benny, breakfast of choice for the gent, deserve a mention too: a democratic exchange meant we tasted both. And, I suspect, both enjoyed our own the most.
http://www.moodforfood.co.uk/
Next I was seduced by the cakes: properly, deliciously home made and the prices not so N1 that I couldn't go back again. But this all felt like dipping one's toe, so the last couple of times I went the whole breakfast hog and had eggs florentine - fast turning into my benchmark breakfast of choice.
And what eggs! Interestingly, on the first occasion the spinach had chilli flakes mixed through which, though not an upfront flavour, gave a delicious background note. The second time, the flakes came as a wide, sprinkled smile under the muffin/egg eyes. Disconcerting and it didn't taste as well, but I still thoroughly enjoyed it.
The eggs benny, breakfast of choice for the gent, deserve a mention too: a democratic exchange meant we tasted both. And, I suspect, both enjoyed our own the most.
http://www.moodforfood.co.uk/
cold comfort
I have said it before and I'll say it again: if you have a cold you need some comfort and some spice. And if it's swine flu then you'll need even more comfort, to get rid of the taste of tamiflu.
See how topical I am? I was aching all over and decidedly grumpy by lunchtime today so I cold-shouldered my stilton leftovers feast and headed to Peyton and Byrne to pretend I'm a lady what lunches. I think I ate carrot soup - I guessed from the colour - but having taste buds in a state of hibernation I wasn't sure of anything but the salt. Textures however are the taste-disabled person's friend: the bread was crispy outside, chewy within; the butter a fat sheet over this, the soup very thick, very pureed.
Recalling the gent, I delicately pushed rather than pulled the spoon. And it was a good portion too! The only disappointment of the hour was that I couldn't get the last crossword clue. If someone knows 'beat' in 6 with letters something like _E_E_T then please tell me, and in return I'll tell you the best thing to do with a carrot mountain.
Time for a honey and lemon, I think...
http://www.peytonandbyrne.com/
See how topical I am? I was aching all over and decidedly grumpy by lunchtime today so I cold-shouldered my stilton leftovers feast and headed to Peyton and Byrne to pretend I'm a lady what lunches. I think I ate carrot soup - I guessed from the colour - but having taste buds in a state of hibernation I wasn't sure of anything but the salt. Textures however are the taste-disabled person's friend: the bread was crispy outside, chewy within; the butter a fat sheet over this, the soup very thick, very pureed.
Recalling the gent, I delicately pushed rather than pulled the spoon. And it was a good portion too! The only disappointment of the hour was that I couldn't get the last crossword clue. If someone knows 'beat' in 6 with letters something like _E_E_T then please tell me, and in return I'll tell you the best thing to do with a carrot mountain.
Time for a honey and lemon, I think...
http://www.peytonandbyrne.com/
Tuesday, 5 May 2009
Christian festival, pagan weekend
Mayday bank holiday and the christening of my ginger neph. On Sunday morning I took break from filling vol-au-vents with my aunt, sister and Mrs I., to slip away into the garden. The month of May can transform anywhere: pink-white apple blossom confetti-ed the lawn, wild strawberries flowered, and that bright green blanket of spring was everywhere. Which is a rather florid way of saying the whole garden seemed to be waiting for the party to begin.
Catering for 70 must be daunting, but aunts and uncles appeared with plates of sandwiches, someone manned a bar, Rose conjured up a beach bucket to fill with bags of children's snacks and Mrs I's tray bakes of cake filled borrowed plates.
The meringues especially remind me of family weddings more than 20 years ago.
Whilst not being strictly necessary at 4pm, the food drew people outside, gave strangers a talking point and helped rescue more than one stilted conversation. It was all madly appreciated and I hope Mrs I. was not too tired from all the organising... Liz and Mark's champagne 'for when everyone has gone' was perfectly pitched!
And the left over brie and stilton was a great lunch with olives and salad today.
Tuesday, 28 April 2009
Aus: reprise
I am one lucky
Tipped off by melly bo, the gent had secured us two tickets… actually, scrap that, maybe it would be best to walk you through this? Yes, I think so.
So please imagine you are unbreakfasted, tripping through the streets of Marylebone early on a Sunday morning; the kind of spring morning that causes deep excitement and hope, even without certain good times ahead of you.
Your gentleman friend leads you to La Fromagerie, where you and around 20 other folk squeeze around tables, are served coffee, juice, and a pumpkin cinnamon muffin… and in walks bill granger. To give you a cooking demonstration. And chat about his culinary begninnings, powdered gravy and ‘owning the morning’.
Obviously it doesn’t get much better, but here is what we ate:
Coffee, juice
Pumpkin cinnamon muffin
Banana bread
Strawberry and rhubarb crisp with yoghurt
Ham and egg Alsatian tart (the very best thing of the morning)
Bill-dressed salad (salad sourced from only 3 miles away) with fromagerie cheese
prosecco
I got to bashfully raise a hand as someone who had been to bills recently, AND he signed my book. AND he likes my name! Although that could be a book signing thing to say when you have nothing else to say, as Stephen Fry said that too.
I was on swinging on a cloud after all that so can't recall the name of the delicate pyramidal cheese the gent chose, and which we ate later with oat cakes.
Things to look up:
Bill liked a restaurant called Petersons (sp?) - run by a chap or chapess by the name of ‘sky’ or somesuch.
All the Bill Granger books I haven't read yet.
The oils / vinegars mentioned by the fearsome fromagerie lady, and which Bill used to dress the salad.
Join the Fromagerie email list.
Tuesday, 7 April 2009
pellegrinis
Pellegrinis, Melbourne, in pictures:
penne pellegrini, which was a cross between school dinner and made by mumma: hearty, huge, unsophisticated. i think i've blogged about this elsewhere, but i like the picture reminders. the melon granita was amazing and just what i wanted, but didn't know it.
Sunday, 5 April 2009
sourdough
sourdough starter
150g strong white flour
50g spelt flour
1 tbsp good honey
150ml warm water
mix until a soft dough. cover with a split freezer bag, elastic band round. put in a warm place (30 degrees c) for 36-48 hours until dough loose and smells alcoholic. it will have darkened on top and bubbles begin to appear.
Feeding the yeast: day 3
30g spelt flour
280g strong white flour
150ml warm water
take yeast starter, add spelt and strong flour with warm water. mix, cover with plastic again. set aside 24 hrs in warm place (less than 24c will stop fermentation) - until mix expands and smells sweet and lightly fermented.
Feeding the ferment : day 4
400g strong white flour
200ml warm water
200g mix from day 3
mix together until thick dough forms. cover and set aside as before for 12 hours, until dough rises.
Maturing the ferment: day 6-9
slow fermentation to ensure it matures gently. keep bowl on bottom shelf of fridge for 2-5 days, depending on how sour you would like it. ferment is ready when skin on top is pulled back and the dough beneath is 'buttery coloured and full of bubbles, like honeycomb'. should be sticky and smell alcoholic and slightly acidic.
the future of your ferment:
refresh every 2-3 days to keep alive. keep back 400g and ditch the rest. mix with 400g water and 800g strong white flour. mix, cover with freezer bag, secure and store in fridge.
making and baking
700g strong white flour
90g spelt flour
400g ferment
650ml water (body temperature)
1 tbsp salt
semolina and flour to dust
combine flours, add ferment, ripping it to pieces. add water, mix until a dough.
work the dough (place away form you, stretch, flip back on itself, stretch sideways - 10-15 mins) sprinkle with 1 tbsp salt, knead until elastic and smooth; finish it in a ball.
put in a tea-towel lined basket or bowl. cover with another towel and set in a warm place for 1 hr.
turn onto floured surface: fold outside edges in a few times, rotate as you go. return to rest for another hour.
divide into two: prove for 16-18 hrs in slightly warm place (17-18 c). dough should double in size and be springy to touch. coat top in flour.
oven 250 (230 fan): place in baking trays ready. remove trays, dust with semolina, turn dough onto tray, round (floured) side upwards: slash or score top. open oven, spray with water, chuck tray in (or place tin of water on bottom shelf of oven). Bake 5 mins. reduce heat to 220c (200c fan), bake 25 mins further until golden and bursting, and base hollow when tapped. if need to cook longer, reduce heat to 210 (190 fan) for another 10-15 mins.
150g strong white flour
50g spelt flour
1 tbsp good honey
150ml warm water
mix until a soft dough. cover with a split freezer bag, elastic band round. put in a warm place (30 degrees c) for 36-48 hours until dough loose and smells alcoholic. it will have darkened on top and bubbles begin to appear.
Feeding the yeast: day 3
30g spelt flour
280g strong white flour
150ml warm water
take yeast starter, add spelt and strong flour with warm water. mix, cover with plastic again. set aside 24 hrs in warm place (less than 24c will stop fermentation) - until mix expands and smells sweet and lightly fermented.
Feeding the ferment : day 4
400g strong white flour
200ml warm water
200g mix from day 3
mix together until thick dough forms. cover and set aside as before for 12 hours, until dough rises.
Maturing the ferment: day 6-9
slow fermentation to ensure it matures gently. keep bowl on bottom shelf of fridge for 2-5 days, depending on how sour you would like it. ferment is ready when skin on top is pulled back and the dough beneath is 'buttery coloured and full of bubbles, like honeycomb'. should be sticky and smell alcoholic and slightly acidic.
the future of your ferment:
refresh every 2-3 days to keep alive. keep back 400g and ditch the rest. mix with 400g water and 800g strong white flour. mix, cover with freezer bag, secure and store in fridge.
making and baking
700g strong white flour
90g spelt flour
400g ferment
650ml water (body temperature)
1 tbsp salt
semolina and flour to dust
combine flours, add ferment, ripping it to pieces. add water, mix until a dough.
work the dough (place away form you, stretch, flip back on itself, stretch sideways - 10-15 mins) sprinkle with 1 tbsp salt, knead until elastic and smooth; finish it in a ball.
put in a tea-towel lined basket or bowl. cover with another towel and set in a warm place for 1 hr.
turn onto floured surface: fold outside edges in a few times, rotate as you go. return to rest for another hour.
divide into two: prove for 16-18 hrs in slightly warm place (17-18 c). dough should double in size and be springy to touch. coat top in flour.
oven 250 (230 fan): place in baking trays ready. remove trays, dust with semolina, turn dough onto tray, round (floured) side upwards: slash or score top. open oven, spray with water, chuck tray in (or place tin of water on bottom shelf of oven). Bake 5 mins. reduce heat to 220c (200c fan), bake 25 mins further until golden and bursting, and base hollow when tapped. if need to cook longer, reduce heat to 210 (190 fan) for another 10-15 mins.
a toblerone by any other name...
i can't tell you how good my eggs florentine breakfast was. the photo does it no justice. so instead i will make a note that the occasion is Bert's birthday and we ate at the 'Bogey Hole' cafe on Bronte beach.
in the oven is Bert's birthday cake: Nigella's 'Madeira cake' (from Domestic Goddess, I think - her first mother-in-law's recipe) . HG actually made it while i ate falafel, sitting in the sun, however we then did a combined effort on a toblerone mousse. you might wonder why you would want to change anything about a toblerone, however i licked the bowl clean and i promise you it's worth the effort.
300g dark toblerone (we used milk...)
2 eggs
2 tbsp sugar
1/2 cup + 2 tbsp whipping or double cream
Melt toblerone in one bowl.
Mix eggs and sugar in another, then fold in chocolate and blend well.
In a third bowl whip cream until stiff peaks. Carefully fold in chocolate mix, spoon into Bert's martini glasses and champagne saucers, chill 2 or 3 hours.
the actual instruction for melting chocolate is just bonkers: 'Put toblerone in bowl and cover completely with boiling water. Allow to stand briefly until chocolate softens. Carefully pour off water.' but next time I'll give it a go.
in the oven is Bert's birthday cake: Nigella's 'Madeira cake' (from Domestic Goddess, I think - her first mother-in-law's recipe) . HG actually made it while i ate falafel, sitting in the sun, however we then did a combined effort on a toblerone mousse. you might wonder why you would want to change anything about a toblerone, however i licked the bowl clean and i promise you it's worth the effort.
300g dark toblerone (we used milk...)
2 eggs
2 tbsp sugar
1/2 cup + 2 tbsp whipping or double cream
Melt toblerone in one bowl.
Mix eggs and sugar in another, then fold in chocolate and blend well.
In a third bowl whip cream until stiff peaks. Carefully fold in chocolate mix, spoon into Bert's martini glasses and champagne saucers, chill 2 or 3 hours.
the actual instruction for melting chocolate is just bonkers: 'Put toblerone in bowl and cover completely with boiling water. Allow to stand briefly until chocolate softens. Carefully pour off water.' but next time I'll give it a go.
Saturday, 28 March 2009
bills #3
having visited bill grainger's restaurants in darlinghurst and surrey hills, i was delighted - nay, ecstatic - to discover there is a third version in woollahra, paddington. to re-cap my earlier experiences, i adored the darlinghurst place but was less in love with the surrey hills version, so my expectations were tamed a little.
bills woollahra is a beautiful spot, a cool, shaded courtyard away from the heat of the day already brewing at 8 or 9 am. to give you an idea of the area, this is a snippet of overheard conversation between two aus-sloaney women with yappy dogs 'you have to take him to board there - they hand-feed him poached chicken'.
however pampered the dogs, the people are every bit as lucky. i started with a flat white coffee, then submerged myself in corn fritters with bacon and tomato, and a side of avocado chunkily chopped up with spring onions. bert and the murph shared the same, plus a bowl of seasonal fruit. hg had creamy curds of scrambled egg on sourdough toast. i tasted the eggs an
d speculated out loud how they were made. 'his book uses cream in them' bert said, then added 'if you really want to know why don't you just ask him?' and nodded to the table behind me, where bill grainger himself sat.
bill! in all of his white teeth, man-tan, white-t-shirted glory! the man who put the inverted commas around 'lifestyle' in australia! look at his picturesque kitchen... and family... and wife! actually, melly bo is convinced it's a charade and he protests too much; that he's as gay as he is camp. i digress: how rude of me to gossip. the breakfast was delicious, the star-spotting wasted on someone as shy as me who would never disturb a breakfasting celeb, and the whole morning immortalised.
it didn't escape my attention that bill is doing a book signing in ten days...
links:
bills
http://www.bills.com.au/
another blogger has written about bills, darlinghurst here. i am fascinated by the whole blog and it's rating system.... and also the list of other breakfast blogs:
http://thebreakfastblog.blogspot.com/2005/05/bills-darlinghurst.html
bills woollahra is a beautiful spot, a cool, shaded courtyard away from the heat of the day already brewing at 8 or 9 am. to give you an idea of the area, this is a snippet of overheard conversation between two aus-sloaney women with yappy dogs 'you have to take him to board there - they hand-feed him poached chicken'.
however pampered the dogs, the people are every bit as lucky. i started with a flat white coffee, then submerged myself in corn fritters with bacon and tomato, and a side of avocado chunkily chopped up with spring onions. bert and the murph shared the same, plus a bowl of seasonal fruit. hg had creamy curds of scrambled egg on sourdough toast. i tasted the eggs an
d speculated out loud how they were made. 'his book uses cream in them' bert said, then added 'if you really want to know why don't you just ask him?' and nodded to the table behind me, where bill grainger himself sat.bill! in all of his white teeth, man-tan, white-t-shirted glory! the man who put the inverted commas around 'lifestyle' in australia! look at his picturesque kitchen... and family... and wife! actually, melly bo is convinced it's a charade and he protests too much; that he's as gay as he is camp. i digress: how rude of me to gossip. the breakfast was delicious, the star-spotting wasted on someone as shy as me who would never disturb a breakfasting celeb, and the whole morning immortalised.
it didn't escape my attention that bill is doing a book signing in ten days...
links:
bills
http://www.bills.com.au/
another blogger has written about bills, darlinghurst here. i am fascinated by the whole blog and it's rating system.... and also the list of other breakfast blogs:
http://thebreakfastblog.blogspot.com/2005/05/bills-darlinghurst.html
Wednesday, 25 March 2009
Vegetarian Chopped Liver
Note to self about this great Jewish cook book I have been reading at Verity's. I was excited to finally discover what kreplach and cholent are, and I just adore the writing. I can't say any more now as Bert has just covered the table in cheese, olives, beer, fresh bread... Very Good Times!
'The art of Jewish Cooking' by Jennie Grossinger, Bantam Books, 1958 ISBN 0553205838
Incidentally, other great titles in the Bantam series of this time include: ' Fasting as a way of life', 'Blend it splendid'
'The art of Jewish Cooking' by Jennie Grossinger, Bantam Books, 1958 ISBN 0553205838
Incidentally, other great titles in the Bantam series of this time include: ' Fasting as a way of life', 'Blend it splendid'
Tuesday, 24 March 2009
are raisins ever welcome in a puttanesca?
to me, the answer is no. and the overwhelming majority of the straw poll i conducted (well, only bert so far) agreed with me.
a puttanesca is so easy and already super-flavourful ... why add raisins? there was also a smattering of toasted pine nuts which i'm not sure a purist would have necessarily added. i got my recipe from anna del conte so i am pretty sure it's a regular version.
well. i just had to get that off my chest.
in other news, bert made the most terrific salads this evening. there was tabbouleh, a fennel dish with lemon and orange zest, and also a salad of spinach, pumpkin and chevre cheese. super, super tasty and fresh. i am still craving fruit and veg after the long flight so this was perfect. there was fresh baguette with a virgin oil to dip into, plus another dish of sesame seeds and spice to dip the oily bread into. hg and i are being thoroughly spoiled here; we are going to have to think of something good to cook for bert and jim this week to say thank you. thinking cap on...
a puttanesca is so easy and already super-flavourful ... why add raisins? there was also a smattering of toasted pine nuts which i'm not sure a purist would have necessarily added. i got my recipe from anna del conte so i am pretty sure it's a regular version.
well. i just had to get that off my chest.
in other news, bert made the most terrific salads this evening. there was tabbouleh, a fennel dish with lemon and orange zest, and also a salad of spinach, pumpkin and chevre cheese. super, super tasty and fresh. i am still craving fruit and veg after the long flight so this was perfect. there was fresh baguette with a virgin oil to dip into, plus another dish of sesame seeds and spice to dip the oily bread into. hg and i are being thoroughly spoiled here; we are going to have to think of something good to cook for bert and jim this week to say thank you. thinking cap on...
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
I have just had my second free coffee in two days. If only this were the start of a beautiful trend! Yesterday I benefitted from a latte surplus to requirements, and today I was apparently recognised as a regular who hasn't been seen in a while and this was a ploy to lure me back. Either that or I was being chatted up: I'm not very good at spotting the difference.
There's no reason for me to be impartial so.... Pret: the coffee shop that keeps on giving.
There's no reason for me to be impartial so.... Pret: the coffee shop that keeps on giving.
Saturday, 28 February 2009
Come dine with Katie!
Before we even started there was a strong gin, served with my very favourite thing in all the world: devils on horseback. The beautiful little smoked salmon blinis were just lovely, but nothing can beat a sweet-salty prune and bacon combination.
On to the menu...
Smoked mackerel pate with oat biscuits
Chicken breast stuffed with mozzarella and chorizo served with crushed new potatoes with herb butter, and vegetables. The herb butter on the potatoes were really delicious, I could eat a whole pile of potatoes dressed like this. The chorizo was just a little overpowering for the chicken and mozarella, but entirely delicious all the same.
Pink chamapgne and rhubarb jelly with ice cream. This was awaited with curiosity by everyone... would you be able to taste the champagne? Warmed on the tongue, the jelly fizzed a little, as if a dab of sherbert was hidden in there. The rhubarb lent a clean, sour note, and the clotted cream ice cream was definitely needed to counterbalance this with its sweetness. The two together were amazing.
Coffee and chocolates.
And what chocolates they were. Handshaped dark chocolate with nuts: no after eights for this lady!
On to the menu...
Smoked mackerel pate with oat biscuits
Chicken breast stuffed with mozzarella and chorizo served with crushed new potatoes with herb butter, and vegetables. The herb butter on the potatoes were really delicious, I could eat a whole pile of potatoes dressed like this. The chorizo was just a little overpowering for the chicken and mozarella, but entirely delicious all the same.
Pink chamapgne and rhubarb jelly with ice cream. This was awaited with curiosity by everyone... would you be able to taste the champagne? Warmed on the tongue, the jelly fizzed a little, as if a dab of sherbert was hidden in there. The rhubarb lent a clean, sour note, and the clotted cream ice cream was definitely needed to counterbalance this with its sweetness. The two together were amazing.
Coffee and chocolates.
And what chocolates they were. Handshaped dark chocolate with nuts: no after eights for this lady!
Katie also entertained us royally throughout, but I don't need to elaborate on that. Let's just say I was better at conducting with a chopstick than I thought... and Andy looks really cute in a white bear suit.
andy's brekkie
Putting the cart before the horse, here is the breakfast Andy made for us all, the night after Katie's meal:
I don't often crave a fry up, but if I know Andy is in front of the oven then I know it's going to be good.
Wednesday, 11 February 2009
pheasant, not peasant!
Having mortally offended my male parent by forgetting to take my brace of pheasants at Christmas, I had to accept the penalty of a 50% reduction in his affection... and was given one, naked pheasant last weekend.
Lucky me! And twice lucky that I didn't have to pluck and singe it, either. Having a constraint can be much easier sometimes. The constraint was time, the solution was casserole.
I chunked up the bird, taking off the leggy bits and breasts, and chopped the rest of the carcass in two. I browned it all in oil then removed to a plate, then flash-fried some diced pancetta in the pan and set aside with the pheasant.
Next, two small onions chopped finely and two cloves of garlic, sweated down.
Pheasant back in the pan, a glug of marsala, half a diced up squash and a few choice carrots... some marigold stock and a random 250 ml or so of beef stock from the freezer, which I was sick of seeing in there. Finally, some mushrooms from our veggie box were cleaned and added whole. It cooked for an hour then sat and mellowed until the next day.
After some wonderfully awkward, quiff and two-left footed dancing, dinner was dead quick. The casserole re-heated quickly with a dash of cream, and served with date cous cous* and toasted flaked almonds.
The gent chose wine from the very tiny Tesco selection. The label tells me it is 'Caves Saint-Pierre' and a 2007 Cotes du Rhone. The gent told me it is a mixture of grapes and not just from one grape. Or the other way round, and this is good because it avoids the flower bomb effect. Or, fruit bomb. Of cherry flavour, was it -? Perhaps I should have asked *before* we drunk it :/
*cous cous aside: it happened to be wholewheat cous cous, to which I added cinnamon, turmuric, chopped dates and marigold stock
Wednesday, 7 January 2009
baby it's cold outside
Ah, the winter illness of choice: colds.
First port of call is drinks of hot honey and lemon, with ginger syrup and brandy or whiskey. As a second line of defence (and comfort) I follow Bert's rule of 'red wine and something schpicey' - and indeed Mel's spicy Malaysian chicken curry on Monday momentarily let me breathe. Last night though, I needed a bit of comfort with the spice and didn't have the energy to take any time over it, so fell back on the old faithful of chicken and chorizo stew.
The result of a dish my sister Katie cooks, crossed with a Nigel Slater recipe I chanced upon, it is now dear to my tastebuds. I made a note about this stew only in September, and the little tinkering changes I made this time were only for the convenience of using up the rest of a swede, and because I found the right pulses this time and used chickpeas... and also a couple of handfuls of red lentils. I cooked it for longer too, (guessing at the gas mark and timing which I lost from the Nigel receipe) two hours and another 30 mins sans lid. My only note to self - and one I make rather firmly - is that I really have to buy the hot paprika. The sweet is lovely and smoky, but not quite the wake up that I was looking for.
I am also going to stick to my guns and only use the butchers from now on too: half a dozen chicken thighs and the same of cooking chorizo only came to about 6 pounds. Between the butcher and the return of our veg box this week, we will have everything we need.
Looking back to September made me tidy the blog a bit, publishing a neglected item and deleting notes. Now last year is tied up it is time to look forward to the new year... just keep away from the 'flu if you can!
Sunday, 4 January 2009
The List
I keep mentioning The List, but can't find it written down anywhere. So, for posterity...
The Fat Duck
Arbutus
El Bulli
River cafe
Locanda Locatelli
St. John
I don't care how obvious they sound, or that they might have closed before I find the money to visit them. Or that my 'top five' appears to be six. Dreaming is three quarters of any pleasure.
Moro has been moved to 'The List of Places to Re-visit'. As has Salt Yard. As has 'bills' in Sydney - only, with bills, I already have my next visit there pencilled in for March. Bring on the ricotta pancakes and sunrise juice! Good times!
The Other List: suggestions and recommendations from friends, of places nearer to home... and budget. And the ones that didn't fit into the top five.
Del Parc (167 Junction road, N19)
Obviously, J. Sheekey
Hoxton Apprentice. Similar to Jamie Oliver's Fifteen, but with a Prue Leith menu and aiming to apprentice not just chefs but also waiting staff etc.
All things dim sum, recommended by both Melly bo and Giles Coren:
Yauatcha, Hakkasan, Royal China.
There should also be a subsection of 'very cheap and possibly dodgy' for those skuzzy places near where I live. To be added.
Salaam-namaste Indian, and Busaba for lunchtime proximity:
http://www.salaam-namaste.co.uk/
http://www.busaba.com/
[yum. i want the duck massuman curry with coconut rice... or sticky rice... and thai calamari, and jasmin cha and if someone else could order the pad thai jay that would be great, because I want to try that too. if i liked crab then the crab version of pad thai looks good. but i don't, so you can keep it. also, we might as well get some hot sake, right?]
The Fat Duck
Arbutus
El Bulli
River cafe
Locanda Locatelli
St. John
I don't care how obvious they sound, or that they might have closed before I find the money to visit them. Or that my 'top five' appears to be six. Dreaming is three quarters of any pleasure.
Moro has been moved to 'The List of Places to Re-visit'. As has Salt Yard. As has 'bills' in Sydney - only, with bills, I already have my next visit there pencilled in for March. Bring on the ricotta pancakes and sunrise juice! Good times!
The Other List: suggestions and recommendations from friends, of places nearer to home... and budget. And the ones that didn't fit into the top five.
Del Parc (167 Junction road, N19)
Obviously, J. Sheekey
Hoxton Apprentice. Similar to Jamie Oliver's Fifteen, but with a Prue Leith menu and aiming to apprentice not just chefs but also waiting staff etc.
All things dim sum, recommended by both Melly bo and Giles Coren:
Yauatcha, Hakkasan, Royal China.
There should also be a subsection of 'very cheap and possibly dodgy' for those skuzzy places near where I live. To be added.
Salaam-namaste Indian, and Busaba for lunchtime proximity:
http://www.salaam-namaste.co.uk/
http://www.busaba.com/
[yum. i want the duck massuman curry with coconut rice... or sticky rice... and thai calamari, and jasmin cha and if someone else could order the pad thai jay that would be great, because I want to try that too. if i liked crab then the crab version of pad thai looks good. but i don't, so you can keep it. also, we might as well get some hot sake, right?]
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