Thanks for the cabbage

We've encountered sauerkraut in all the usual places: a memorable, heart busting triple sausages and ham platterful in Strasbourg (of course) where they manged to serve their traditional dish with some subtlety and well as monstrous portions; then there were the barrels of dozens of different ones at the Christmas market, we think it was Baden Baden, but it could have just as easily been anywhere in Alsace or southern Germany; and then the famous Eisbahn, eaten this time in Berlin where there idea of a piece of ham seemed to include best part of a leg, for one of course.
Thanks to the Polish invasion, the base ingredient - the pickled cabbage - comes in giant jars from Asda as well as the wonderful Wally's. The brand is Krakus who do all sorts of marvelous things in jars. The problem then, to recreate the idea of lots of tastes of porky things, without going over the top, and encouraging heart attacks.
The first trick is to extract the cabbage - you need about half a large (900 gm) jar for two, but it's packed in solid. I used a fork to start with, then my hands. As you pull the cabbage out, carefully pull it into its shreds, if you don't you'll just have an indigestible lump. Put into a large bowl with some crumpled bay leaves, some juniper berries and a real crunch of pepper. At this point I also added the last chunk of the home cooked ham diced into bite sized bits. Give everything a good mix by hand and cover.
At this point a pack of tasty sausages went in the oven to cook: flavour is what we're after and if you're cooking for more than two then a couple of kinds won't go wrong either. If you want a kick a piece of chorizo would be good.
The last taste was going to come from some bacon - in this case unsmoked cubes gently cooked off in a non stick pan, but again anything goes.
Once the sausages were well cooked and sticky the cabbage, well infused with its herbs by now, goes in the microwave. Give a stir halfway through. Then assemble by stirring in the hot bacon bits (and yes, the flavoursome fat ..) distributing on plates and adding the sausages.
Traditionally the only extras are steamed potatoes, plain as they come, and mustard. There's a very nice mustard and horseradish courtesy of the Poles' too, so try it for a change.

Retro wraps

Way back in those Babby Belling days (passim) someone hit on the idea of adding curry powder to baked beans: it gave a whole new life to end-of-the-month beans on toast. Then Heinz got clever and started doing them in the can, but they added raisins too, a truly terrible idea that I hope has died along with Vesta curries. Still, it gave me an idea for a quick - don't mess up the kitchen 'cos we are 'open house' - supper.
Take can of beans (yes, low sugar and salt is fine) add loads of hot stuff (Tabasco, chilli sauce etc and a fresh chilli or two), chop spring onions for crunch, and loads of small cubes of the home cooked ham.
Stuff four wraps and place in an oiled dish, cover with grated cheese, bake and eat.
Posh it ain't, but retro wraps were not bad at all.

Spiced up mussels, another variation

We've a house "Open Day" tomorrow, hence the paucity of food blogs, we daren't use the kitchen! But tonight the mussels were demanding something a bit more seasonally warming than just, say white wine and cream. So a spiced broth in which to steam them:
a glug of oil, two finely chopped small onions, a large splash each of fish sauce, white wine vinegar, lime juice, dry sherry: some larger than others depending on the result you want. A chunk of ginger, a whole but deseeded green chilli and a big handful of parsley and some lemon thyme add the spicy flavours.
Cook for 15-20 minutes and then leave to cool. Pick out all the stalky things before adding the mussels to steam. Serve with lots of finely chopped parsley (coriander would be even better methinks) and a splosh of sweet chilli sauce: maybe that's a glug too far, but this is November guys!

Stocking up makes sense

There's been much about this week on how much food goes to waste, and our own experience is that far too much languishes at the back of the fridge when the weekly restock happens. Today it was clear that with what was leftovers, and not likely to be used, there was plenty to start a fine vegetable stock.
Leftovers yielded a third of a swede, some sad but fine once peeled carrots, half a lost onion and a chunk of courgette - where did the rest go? Into the stock pot.
Incoming from the shop went the leek tops - does anyone get dirty leeks these days? - the tops of the spring onions that were already a bit limp, quite a chunk of parsley stalks and some lemon thyme. Bay leaves and marjoram, home dried, and some juniper berries and pepper corns introduced some flavour. Oh, and a couple of garlics and a chunk of ginger. All ready to hubble and bubble and do magic for tomorrow's soup.
Except, along comes himself wanting know what's happening to the piece of ham that's been waiting to be cooked for a week. So that goes in too.
Result after 90 minutes? One ham with much more flavour than it might have had otherwise and ready to be chilled down.
And the stock, strained it went back on the heat to reduce and when tested it had a fine flavour that would have made an excellent broth on its own: in the restaurant we used to take very, very hot soups bowls, put in a scant handful of julienned vegetables and pour on boiling stock like this. Just a tablespoon of dry sherry on top. Very grand, but it's the stock what does it.
Or you could convert into Tom Yam: never be without a jar of this wonderful paste. If doing for one, similar process - in a hot bowl just slice some mushrooms, or chicken or a mix, add a teaspoon - to taste - of paste and boiling stock. Stir and eat.
In the end though the stock was used to help with the left-overs mountain: sweated leeks, carrots, garlic, ginger, a chilli and half a squash soon started to smell delicious. Half the stock went in together with a handful of chopped parsley. When cooked the rest of the stock was added for a quick cool down so the vegetables could be liquidised in the pan. Checked for seasoning, but it didn't need 'owt. A handful or more of red lentils to give a bit of substance and bite and there we have it, sense of stock and leftovers.

Does a great kitchen a good cook make?

Not sure that it does, but I need a good reason to mention our's today 'cos it's up for sale. Not just the kitchen either, but the whole of the aptly named Pendenis House around it!
We're learning just how important the kitchen is by looking at other people's. We've decided that whatever its fittings and posh work surfaces, the first requirement is that it fulfills a role as the hub of the house. Ours is visible from the front door, inviting you in, it's the natural place to go when you arrive. And it runs into a breakfast room conservatory so that for informal eating the food has just seconds to the table and you can eat every meal with a wonderful view of the garden.
These are requirements that we won't want to give up.
Of course you need lots of work surfaces if you are to do decent stuff: but hey, my first bedsit had a sink and a tiny Baby Belling and still I did three course dinners! The fact is however that surfaces just attract junk in inverse proportion to their surface. And who's got room for all the appliances that you really need right there if you are going to use them?: ice cream making, espresso machine, toaster, juicer (citrus), juicer (vegetable), microwave and the Magimix.
While we have lots of storage cupboards, again, enough is never enough. So we'd really like a new house with larder (with a proper cold slab), utility room in which to store all the machines, the pots on shelves so they don't get bashed, and all the laundry junk. Wishful thinking? Probably.
Still we'll miss this one. Go have a look.
We won't promise a discount to Past Food readers, but we might manage a light lunch while you look round!

Cheats' Moussaka

A restaurant described Moussaka as a lamb and aubergine pie ... well, I suppose it is sort of, but of the many variations I've never had it topped with pastry. The whole fandangle takes some effort, so here's the quickie version - well, at least to prep, it still takes 40 mins in the oven.
You need a really rich lamb mixture: fry off the minced, lean lamb and put aside giving a chance to reduce the fat further. Clean out the pan and soften onions, peppers, maybe a slice or two of fennel, celery and when soft add the meat back. Add tomatoes, fresh skinned or tinned (passim) and a smidge of tomato paste. I usually add ginger, garlic, thyme, rosemary and parsley as the base flavours, pimento and chilli flakes can spice it up a bit. Leave to bubble away merrily.
Slice your aubergine, circle, cross lengths, long lengths, whatever will fit your deep dish. You can salt them and dry them but I've never noticed the difference. Fry them off and as you do so layer them in the dish: aubergine at the bottom, then the mince, more aubergine, more lamb, finally aubergine. Then my cheats' topping.
For a four person dish you need half a large pot of plain yoghourt (low fat's fine) into which beat three nice eggs (a couple if you use duck's), plus salt and pepper. Now pour the mix onto the last layer of aubergine - it should be quite thick. Slip a knife down the side of the dish at intervals to give the topping a chance to slither down the side - it looks very attractive if you are using a clear soufflé dish for example. Then - most important - lots and lots of grated nutmeg, and nothing but the real thing, ready ground is just sawdust.
Forty minutes at about 160 and the topping will brown, rising like a soufflé itself. You should be able to take out a slab in a whole piece, spooning out any reluctant lamb. Serve with steamed veg.

Leek and potato soup with bits

It sounds like an oxymoron, cream of leek and potato with bits, but that's how himself likes it: something to do with with childhood memories, which in his case ain't so far away.
I've tried in the past to get to the blending stage and then to take out some of the cooked leeks and big bits of potato, chop them up and put them back in. It doesn't really do it for me because they just end up mushy on reheating. A different technique is required.
First I cut most of the leek white off and sweated the rest in the pan. Then added some chopped potatoes and the home made stock from yesterday's poached chicken, a handful of chopped parsley and seasoning.
All this took place in the giant steamer/spaghetti pot so there was plenty of space to lodge a large seive on the top, fill it with bite sized pieces of potato, and add the saucepan lid so the spuds could steam. Concurrently I gently cooked the chopped leek whites in a pan until they were sweet and sticky.
When the soup was cooked - 20 mins - so were the potato cubes. All that was left was to blend the soup, add some milk (cream would be better, but diet you know), put in the perfectly cooked spuds and leeks, and Voila, cream soup with bits.
It actually tasted better for the additional fried leeks and the cubed spuds made the whole thing very robust.
With cold roast lamb sandwiches, rather a good, doing the chores Sunday, lunch.

Retro fishpate with twists

Who - at least of my age - hasn't made tons on smoked mackerel pate? And weren't we so taken aback when they started doing fillets encrusted with pepper so that this good old sixties stand by could take on yet another life! All those cheffy variations too - adding fresh horseradish seemed positively cuisine minceur .. or not.
Fact is it's good stuff, but it needs a bit of variation after fourty years. So I tried this one: the technique, as you all know, is simply to stuff the ingredients into the Magimix in order needing to be chopped. So start with some spring onions (half a red one would do nicely too) and a good handful of parsley (get of rid of the worst of the stems but don't pick off every leaf - this is meant to be easy!); zapp. Pile in a box of philly like cream cheese ('lite for us porkies) and a pack of smoked salmon pieces and two large or three smaller skinned smoked mackerel fillets (with peppers if you like). More zapp.
It should be spreadable, but with noticeable contents, not just a mush, so I use the zapp button rather than leave it to blend.
Put into brown dishes - yes, they have to be to be properly retro. If you are being posh and not dieting then there's no doubt that a layer of clarified butter doesn't do anything but good. Freezes great. But please, please don't eat straight from the fridge .....

Mediocrity reigns when away

I spend a lot of eating time away from the kitchen and always wonder, "could I do better?". Have to say the answer's often a grumpy "Yes" and today was no exception.
Marooned in Taunton's Holiday Inn - on the same car/park industrial/shopping/estate on the edge of the town as the Express by Holiday Inn - I had a least enjoyed the excellent pool. There didn't seem much prospect of eating anywhere that wasn't a taxi ride away, and I have had not bad experiences at other HI's including Bradford and Calais (well, I know it's in France ....).
At least the blackboard of 'specials' suggested that some of it wouldn't be boil in a bag, head office designed cooking. Wrong.
Ok, I chose 'rough pate' thinking no one can muck that up, and rough at least means it won't be 'Brussels Smooth and Pink'. Wrong. The three kinds of bread were interesting, but fridge cold. Butter, when provided, practically frozen. And the pate, well cold, tasteless and yes, Pink.
My chalky, handwritten special was described as "Whitby Scampi in a sweet and sour sauce on a bed of fragrant rice". Now that sounds like a delicate enough thing, fresh pieces of scampi in a spicyish sauce with rice and a side salad.
Now imagine: a microwaved pile of rice that lost its aromatic qualities - if it ever had any - some time earlier; a pile of breadcrumbed fishy pieces of doubtful provenance - Whitby, not likely - deep fried to an inch of their existence; an even larger pile, a monstrous pile, of previously frozen peas; a tiny dish of sweet and sour sauce that had been zapped. And a typically thrown together side salad of wet lettuce, cold peppers and onions.
What's to complain about? It was what it said - just. Each item was edible - just. It filled a hole - just.
So it didn't meet my expectation, who's fault's that? Mine I suppose for imagining that £20 bought you a decent meal, not one that was just ........

The shame of food miles

From last week's bargain shop a frozen half kilo box of prepared mussels for £1.25, all ready to reheat in their shells. The only problem - they were from New Zealand, half way round the world. And of course we have perfectly good mussels from just down the road in west Wales. So what price guilt?
In this case the only answer seems to be that we'll go on eating them until they are priced in a way that makes us conscious of the real cost. There's no way anyone can grow and prepare, package and ship these mussels 12,000 miles, and sell them at a profit for that price. £2.50, not likely; £4.50 maybe, but that would then make them competitive with local products so we might not buy them. In the meantime we just eat them.
I adapted an idea on the box: melted a large chunk of butter, added a couple of tablespoons of sweet chilli sauce, the juice of half a lemon, a finely chopped chilli, and a teaspoon of ready chopped garlic.
The mussels were placed in a single layer and the sauce spooned into each one. Under the hot grill for about eight minutes and ready to eat with a large salad and lots of bread to mop up the really delicious juices.
And the guilt?

Comfort pie and no work

It's been a theme of the week, raiding the freezer, but then that's what advance cooking and planning is all about.
So after a truly hectic day - all morning fighting a licensing application as the standard bearer for hundreds of residents opposing a 120 hour a week 'social club' extension, followed by a long telephone conference, a recording for a 30 sound bite for tv news, and then live radio for the drive home ... phew I needed easy.
And I didn't have to do anything, for which I was really pleased. The fish pie (previous appearance here) had defrosted overnight and was accompanied with steamed carrots and beans. And brown sauce of course.
Even the fruit salad was there, ready to eat. Perfect Friday. Plenty of time to think about cooking again at the weekend.

Observer status as beef stew hits home

A day rushing about ended by walking into a house filled with the smells of home cooking, for which I had not had to lift a finger. The day picked up no end!
In my absence a hearty beef casserole had been made from some really good looking chunks of English beef. I was too late to observe the work, so no recipe here, but what's there to say about making a fine casserole? Leave yourself plenty of time so that cooking can be slow and easy, otherwise you just have to decide whether it is basically going to be based on a red wine and root vegetables mix, or perhaps more tomatoes and summer veg like peppers. Or, of course, a pragmatic combi of both if that takes your fancy, or you're using up stock.
I was roped in to assist for a few minutes whilst a minestrone soup was being finished - cutting off the corn cobs and measuring the tiny pasta shells: these jobs I could be trusted with apparently.
Chilling down and boxing spares and leftovers was my job after we'd happily devoured the casserole - rich, tomatoey, and full of vegetables - with steamed potatoes.

Wrapping it easy

Turns out today was a double leftovers, so not much cooking involved, but non the less memorable for that.
We don't normally do lunches together when I'm working - the office is just five minutes walk - as our body clocks don't seem to say 'food' at the same times during the day. So my eye was caught by the two left over chapatis and the knowledge that there was leftover vegetable curry from last night. Wrap the two up and zap - scrummy indeed.
Supper, pasta and salad. Lazy is good.

Tuesday is Two Curry Night

Part of Monday's mega shop had included bargain vegetables like okra and aubergine so a vegetable curry was well in mind. We stopped off at the Indian supermarket where they had run out of fresh coriander of all things, so it had to be a bunch of methi instead. We also got tinned chick peas, what turned out to be a great new pickle, and the odd spices we'd run out of.
The heart of the meal was to be lamb curry - yep, straight from it's short rest in the freezer.
To go with it a vegetable curry of ochra, baby aubergines, a bit of onion and that can of chick peas. All the veg were put to sweat whilst I added some coconut milk to the base curry sauce that someone had already thoughtfully prepared from scratch. As soon as the vegetables were ready the sauce was sploshed on, the chopped methi and peas added and the whole left to simmer.
Even the rice had been precooked - seven portions of organic brown, white and wild rice mix, all ready for the freezer too. So all there was to do was to heat and eat: we just put a portion in a dariole dish and cling film for reheating in the microwave. The size of the dish btw helps avoid over large portions.
The ready made chapatis were unusually good, being reheated by placing directly on the iron heat diffuser we use on the cooker - a kind of mini griddle. The new chutney great. Plain yohourt to blob on and all is good.

Virtuous Sunday

Chaos still abounds so the soup came in handy for lunch: lots of cheese grated on top and chunky bread beside. Easy and a great comfort after yesterday's efforts. Masses left over too.
Supper, another one in the bag as it were: a particularly special dried pasta from our friends Napolina (passim) called torchietti, mixed plain and spinach, and a freezer box of home made meat sauce. Positively the last of the salad ingredients laying about: red cabbage, cucumber, grated carrot and celeriac all with a nice olive oil and a splash of balsamic.
Two very nice and very easy meals reaping the benefit of earlier hard graft: virtue rewarded indeed.

The great Saturday clear out

The kitchen was a disaster zone, what with re-painting and stuff going on all around. Food planning as you have seen, had fallen off the radar, with meals out, and too often taken on the run. So a look in the 'fridge revealed any amount of 'left-overs' that needed attention and a couple of hours of serious food bashing.
First the chicken left overs: very substantial and a valuable carcass. So, meat stripped and back in the 'fridge the carcass goes in the stew pot with the ends of leeks, some garlic, a diced chunk of the lurking celeriac, carrots, a nub end of fennel that has been making chunky salads, and a handful of fresh and dried herbs. Now, I'm thinking, if I can just get enough stock for a big vegetable soup and a risotto ... Oh, and the French beans, I stick half in a sieve to steam over the stock, ready for a salad: forward planning or what.
There are two approaches I think to veg soup - the refined 'cream of' variety, and I had plenty of carrots say to do carrot and coriander, or the chunky, stand up your spoon version, like a minestrone, with or without pasta. I had so many bits and bobs of veg that I decided on the latter.
So I started chopping for sweating leeks, carrots, onion, mushrooms, bits of sundry peppers; then dicing potato, celeriac; shredding some red baggage, and top/tailing the rest of the French beans. Everything in little boxes ready for the stock. Then veg to sweat, added stock and cook a bit more, then add the 'boiling' veg such as the potatoes which we don't want to overcook, and finally the cabbage and beans. I beefed up the stock just a bit with a sprinkle of Marigold meaning I could leave out salt altogether, added lots of pepper and took off the heat the instant the vegetables were nearly cooked. Furthermore, I also plunged the pan into a sinkful of cold water, stirring every now and then to get the heat down as quickly as possible: this is soup for reheating, and we don't want overcooked mush.
Now, whilst doing all that chopping I also prepped the risotto - the leeks, peppers and a bit of carrot just remained to be sweated off, some chorizo sliced and the rice added and the stirring commenced. I honestly believe that a good risotto simply means hard labour with almost constant stirring (though I use a wooden spatula to lift the rice from the pan, rather than a spoon which bashes it about too much). The home made hot stock works a treat and near the end I add the frozen peas, although baby frozen broad beans are great too, and a quite excessive amount of the left over chicken which has been diced into mouth bite bits. Finally butter, cheese and a five minute rest.
Of course I had sorted out all the other lurking things in the 'fridge, so a chunky salad went on the table with the chicken dish, the forth in a row this week!

The Basque take on the chicken challenge

What's with the menu planning this week, if it ain't an ocean of fish, we get a farmyard of birds, and chickens anywhere we look to eat. This time though we'd left the meal to our host, naturally, of a delightful dinner that, as usual in her hands, managed to be serious scoff and wine without any of the social drawbacks of pompous, patronising guests or attempts at country house posh service. So, just great company and perfect food.
Starter - which vanished in a trice I noticed - was a decorous plate of salami, Parmesan and slow roasted tomatoes of unctuous sweetness and moorishness. It really was a little platter of such simplicity - although the tomatoes no doubt took hours of slow cooking - that got the taste buds slavering in anticipation and the food notes - all Mediterranean - should have given us a clue to the next course.
The one dish meal, in the ubiquitous Le Crueset (passim) - turned out to be Basque chicken. I don't know the recipe, but it seemed like a chicken paella ie the rice was slow cooked in the pan in the oven, with brown long grain rice still with a bite and yet wonderfully moist from the sauce. The chicken had been carefully portioned - no bones I think judging from the other plates - and the whole cooked with chorizo, peppers, olives, tomatoes and whole segments of orange, complete with peel. I suspect the blessed Delia at work here.
Seconds for the greedy, then attempts to eat the Gorgonzola that went wonderfully with the wine, brought back from its chateau just a few weeks ago by other guests.
Real pudding - well a cake of such denseness and taste that a slice needed the fresh orange and grapefruit slices to meliorate its richness, and the blob of creme fraiche went down well too.
Perfect then on every count? You bet.

Tasty roast on the run then toast on the lap

Straight off the train and only time for a rushed late lunch. Him indoors had roasted a handsome fowl the night before that had full happiness - and potential flavour - credentials - organic, free range. Generous chunks went on some handy leaves and a shared box of M&S pasta salad grabbed at the station. Very nice too, but what was the hint of flavour on the bird I asked? Lime pickle apparently - a not too hot one, generously slathered over the bird with the usual oiling and seasoning.
So, unwittingly we had a revisit to the Nandos of the night before, but much better.
It was such a late lunch that supper was a slice and a half each of Welsh rarebit, not even any more salad: sometimes enough is enough. Apparently "The spelling "Welsh rarebit" is a humourless euphemism" seems odd to me!

Did my chicken die happy?

Another cross country travel, with the usual Great Western delays meaning a grabbed hot sandwich of unmentionable grossness. I was running an afternoon into evening meeting that included two muslims making their Ramadan fast, so 6.37 pm assumed some importance and everyone indulging in a sugar rush of M&S goodies. That still left me with the usual late night problem: what to eat this late in Luton?
Everyone said chicken at Nandos, and I have been pleasantly surprised there before. It does grilled chicken, sloshed in their own peri peri sauce that ranges from tasty to very hot. That’s pretty much it in various combos.
I chose a simple half chicken, medium sauce and two sides: that’s coleslaw and chips in everyday parlance. It took about 15 minutes and arrived piping hot and didn’t take long to eat. A bottle of Stormhoek Pinotage 2006 held its own against the flavour. And the whole bill around 20 quid. What’s not to like?
Well, my chicken’s life causes me a bit of concern. The website says all the birds are fresh, never frozen. That would suggest they haven’t come too far, so low food miles - though the whole of Europe is within range of a ‘fridge lorry. But what of their lifestyle? There’s absolutely no option to buy-up and choose a free range or even organic bird. And since Nandos make no claims, we must assume the worst: intensively farmed, very short lived birds. Not very happy ones.
So do I boycott Nandos for ever? Do we need to inspire a MacDonald’s like customer revolt? Maybe, but I’ve other battles on my plate. Wouldn't it be better for Nandos to come clean and say: it’ll cost you £XX more to know your chicken had a happy life. Who wouldn’t want to pay?

Spanish omelette to the rescue

The plan said roast chicken, the realities took over as time and energy ran out. With a fridge full of vegetables and a box of eggs - oh and some left over potatoes, what about a Spanish omelette?
For me the spuds are a distinguishing feature of this dish: ideally start with raw ones, cube them small, fry in shallow oil until browned all over and cooked. Set aside on kitchen paper putting into the omelette pan when adding the eggs.
We however had some left over 'yellow' potatoes, so these were just cubed and got ready with the other veg. For four people you need a small non stick pan that is going to be full of veg before you add the eggs, but frying the veg is easier if you use another, bigger pan. So, start with some strips of bacon , lardons or bits of chorizo, then the onion, peppers, some finely sliced fennel, chopped aubergine and courgette (very small) and celery if you have it Sweat for a bit then add some mushrooms. When you think that everything is cooked add the potatoes and a good handful of frozen peas - for me these are as essential as the spuds.
Put the veg into the clean, smaller pan and bring up the heat. Beat your eggs - six will do for this sized pan - with some cream/milk, lots of seasoning, chopped fresh herbs, pour into the hot vegetables. You should now have a pan dangerously full! Stir the egg into the centre as it sets for a minute or two keeping the heat high. As soon as it looks as though it is setting, turn the heat down, smooth off the top and leave to cook for a few more minutes, the bottom should be nicely browned.
Did I say the grill should be on? Mmm.... You might want to grate cheese on the top of the omelette before you put it under the grill for final cooking. Unlike a quick omelette we are looking to get this cooked right through, so a few minutes under the grill may be needed. When done remove from pan onto a board or plate. Do not eat!
Why? Because like a lot of food it really tastes best neither hot - straight out of the pan, nor cold - straight out of the fridge. So leave well alone for fifteen minutes whilest you prep a big bowl of salad, it'll taste better for the anticipation.
PS: Of course leftovers go in the fridge to keep: if you haven't got time to let it warm up naturally, 20 or 30 seconds max in the microwave should do the trick but don't overheat 'cos it will be rubbery and horrid and such a waste of all that effort.

Mexican ad lib?

The chores had piled up and late home from the office means one thing, instant grub. There were two portions of vegetable chilli in the freezer and a pack of 'seeded' wraps. Maybe something with a Mexican twist, you know those tortilla things that go crunchy, what they called??
Oiled baking dish took four well stuffed, rolled up wraps quite snuggly. Lots of cheese on top and a hot oven for 30 minutes ish. I wanted them piping hot and a bit crunchy too.
Himself wanted boiled yellow potatoes - some sudden fancy, who's to say no?
And another crunchy salad of all sorts (what we going to do when the newly discovered pointy red cabbages finish?).
Big plates (it was really too much) and lots of not-too-hot lime pickle. Sour cream would have been good but that would have entailed planning, and the whole point was, it wasn't.

Mustard seed mayhem

It was the bean spouts what did it. I only know two things to do with them - salad or a stir fry. So working backwards from a vegetable stir fry it seemed like Chinese tonight.
There were store cupboard (well, freezer) king prawns and a bit of a bag of small ones, and lurking in the store cupboard proper a jar of Thai red curry paste.
So chop, chop later and we had the ingredients for:
The prawn curry - fried off mushroom slices, added three big teaspoons of the paste and fried that off too. Then one of those tiny boxes of coconut cream and two finely chopped red chillis: the paste said it wasn’t hot. Left to stew, the prawns, now defrosted of course, added just a few minutes before it was piled into the serving dish.
The stir fry had lots going in it. First some leek, then sliced fennel strips, two colours of pepper, small chunks of aubergine and some garlic. I’d started the fat in the wok with some mustard seeds and the first veg hit the pan as they started to fly all over the kitchen. The trick is a very hot pan, lots of stirring, and not letting the veg steam but really fry. Finally the bean spouts and some pak choi. A splash of fish sauce and some dry sherry and into a hot dish to wait for the …
Fried rice. Precooked long grain, chilled down so every grain is separated. Into the wok some more light oil, chopped leek, mushrooms, courgette - whatever as long as its cubed and small. Then work quickly - the rice will stick if you give it half a chance. Wizz about till well heated then push all to one side. Break an egg into the space you’ve made in the pan and with the heat still on full, bash it about to scramble/omelette it. When it’s cooked smash it up and distribute through the rice. You should be able to see flecks of yellow egg. I like a splash of rich soy sauce at this point, but you can leave that to the eaters.
At the moment of serving the dishes, stir in chopped coriander leaves into the curry, sprinkle masses of whole plucked leaves onto the veg - the aroma is delicious.
Hot bowls. Chop sticks for authenticity. Forks for greedy.
The only, only drawback of such is a meal is the endless washing up, a wrecked stove - all that heat - and bloody mustard seeds underfoot…..
(PS it means shrimp, prawn etc)

Half a lamb shoulder

Not a piece of meat I'd seen before and not from Mopsa, so assumed it needed a bit of help to be tasty. It looked at though it would take a good stuffing so the end bone removed, and a bit of judicious trimming and bashing (rolling pin does fine) and there's something resembling a flat, oblong piece of lamb.
Over to the Magimix with its small bowl. First some fresh crumbs from a very tasty rye sourdough: put aside. A smallish onion and two garlic cloves wizzed small and tossed into a pan with some oil. Followed a few minutes later with a handful of finely chopped mushrooms.
When very softened, the vegetables and the crumbs are combined with some dried rosemary (crumbled in) and the juice of half a lemon. Lots of seasoning.
The lamb was stuffed and tied into a roll - looked like it would do a generous three when sliced.
It weighed about 1kg, so an hour at 180, plus a rest. A tray of chopped veg (fennel, courgette, peppers, aubergine, red onion, garlic - coated first in a bowl with olive oil) sat on top in the small oven.
The gravy (juices, red wine and v old home made chutney) finished it all off.

Bad, bad boys' breakfast

Two croissants fresh from the baker, sliced carefully in half. Cover with generous slice of Parma ham. Slice a melty cheese and cover the ham. Turbo oven at 230 for five minutes 'till the cheese melts and exposed bits of ham start to crinkle. Flip together. Eat whilst too hot with coffee.
Calories and fat content: OTT, probably as bad as a fry up, but somehow more 'sophisticated'!
Who's kidding who?

A salad by any other name

Start the dressing in a big bowl: olive oil, fish sauce, lime juice, chopped red chilli (sans seeds) a grind of pepper. Add chopped red cabbage (those pointed Cambridgeshire ones are ideal), strips of red and green pepper, a handful of tiny florets of cauliflower, a couple of chopped tomatoes. Stir and leave a bit.
Now for the smoothy textures: small chunks of ripe avocado and fresh mango – stir about so that they start to flavour the vegetables and are a bit squidgy.
Eat. Notice the hit of chilli, the crunch of veg, the softness of the fruits, the tingle of lime and the saltiness of the fish sauce. Salad hardly describes it.
We carbed out with cappelletti stuffed with meat and cheese.
An easy peasy Friday night.

Infinite variations on fishy pies

Knocking up a fish pie should be in everyone’s repertoire of great standbys, whether it has a Fish Pie top (potatoes) or a Fisherman’s (pastry). What goes underneath can adopt the same approach and, if crafty, entail just washing up one pot – apart from the topping that is. With variations of fish and the vegetables you need never cook two the same.
I use a large sauté dish or fry pan – a wok would do just as well – to make the filling from start to finish. It seems daft to make enough just for two/three, (who wants to chop half an onion?) so we usually end up making enough for two pies with the second going straight in the freezer as soon as the finished (but uncooked) pie is chilled down.
So, into some oil in your chosen pan put a chopped onion, followed in cooking order by a pepper, some carrots – diced, and any combination of courgette, fennel (not too much), celery (ditto). Sweat until they’ve lost their bite. Then add a generous heaped tablespoon of cornflower and wiz about a bit, it doesn’t need cooking, but ordinary flour would if you use that. Add two teaspoons of the ubiquitous Marigold vegetable stock powder, or a crumbled cube of something.
Now you’re ready to turn the mess into a rich sauce: start adding milk, first in glugs, then as it thickens and cooks, more at a time until you have a rich, coating texture. Now add frozen peas or beans or even sweetcorn – if you like bright colour! – and let it all come back to the boil. Add some fresh herbs: parsley finely chopped, some fennel if you have it, or whatever. Check the seasoning and overdo the pepper if anything. If you want it to be extra creamy add grated cheese, or do the Jamie Oliver thing and slosh in double cream!
Now the fish. Today I used a couple of slabs of salmon and a big handful of prawns. In truth I prefer solid white fish, cod if we can afford it, but see what’s on offer. And of course, smoked haddock – especially with a cheesy sauce – is quite a distinctive version.
Turn everything over carefully in the sauce and take off the heat.
You should have enough stuff to fill two 2/3 person dishes ready for topping. If using mash, make sure it’s extra creamy: I smooth it flat with a spatula then do plough lines with a fork, going both ways, just like mum taught me. More cheese on top maybe? Dot with butter.
Then 200°C for about 35 – 40 minutes.
It’s got to be peas or steamed beans to go with it.
Afterthoughts: so you don’t fancy freezing one – then use the remaining filling for delicious puff pastry pasties – but watch when eating they tend to be very hot! Or just serve on a baked potato with extra cheese. Or pile into those individual shop bought Yorkshire Puddings ….

Pot luck Paella really is

Supper pot luck invites from us mean just that: a pot of stuff, and on this occasion quite a bit of luck. The food of course has to have a bit more effort that an everyday evening, but not such that it gets into dinner party realms: and it needs to support a nice bottle of wine (each, that is!).
So the paella recipe in this Sunday’s OFM, itself from a classic Spanish cookbook called 1080 got the mind and juices thinking. And a very large (500 gms) Octopus clinched it: Octopus and prawn paella.
Now it seems to me as a frequent risotto cooker, that the difference between the two classic rice dishes are few: the kind of rice, of course, that paella is finished in the oven, and that risotto has cheese and creamy unctuousness resulting from 30 minutes of hard stirring. So, on the face of it, paella is a cinch.
For once I followed the recipe, adapting to my more limited choice of ingredients. Measured rice (half what is proposed) to 250 gms and half the quantity of stock 1.5 pints. The method was simple: brown finely chopped onion and garlic, add skinned chopped tomato and cook that. Add the chopped up octopus and the rice, cooking in the oil until opaque. Slosh in stock, some parsley that has been ground up with the saffron (I added some sweet paprika). Stir in peas (I used frozen, recipe says tinned!!!). Put sliced peppers on top. Stick in oven.
Twenty minutes later I looked and had a fine dish of rice soup. Far, far, far too much liquid. Small panic as guest is a) great cook, b) mother of daughter who runs own v successful catering outfit, c) at my left shoulder. Send her away and ladle out large quantity of delicious broth (tomorrow’s fish soup?) Turn up the gas and pray.
After a minute or to all begins to look well. Add prawns and more parsley. Rescue now forgotten French stick just in time. Try to look cool and serve.
Result? Well, a result. Full of flavour in spite of light hand on seasoning. Rich and creamy and quite like a paella. The fish was very meaty and contrasted well with the prawns and rice.
The reason for the problem? For a start I automatically put the lid on the casserole that was substituting for a paella dish – wrong, no chance for evaporation. But I still think it was too much stock. So next time I’ll do the “just under an inch above the rice” measurement that I always do – and leave the lid off…
PS The picture is from the book - not my effort!!

Eating on the run, never great ...

When travelling, days can go by on grabbed sandwiches and indifferent meals out. Monday was to be a case with end-to-end meetings and the last session finishing at 9.30 pm in Worcester – so a stay over needed.
I got a head start with the food, being warned there would be nothing from when I left till bedtime, by taking a brown baguette stuffed with home-made pate (see earlier). This was eaten greedily and in haste after quickly booking in to the Travelodge in the centre of the town. (For those in need ok – big rooms, dull, dull, dull, mine had great view of the Malverns over a forest of air conditioning units for the local shops. Expensive parking.)
Next door there is a Pizza Express open ‘till 11 pm, so look no further. I’ll skip the detail ‘cos here’s a more than detailed review of someone else there recently. For me it was too small, too bland – and that was the Diavolo! – and the only atmosphere that provided by well-oiled take awayers. The staff were efficient and charming.
No, the best pizza we’ve had in a long time was in Mali Velinj in Croatia: sitting on the side of the harbour, fish at our feet, literally. The dough was so good they sold it plain to eat with olive oil. The fish topping … well it hadn’t been dead long. They do take outs …..
At home we’ve settled on Jamie Oliver’s recipe for dough that includes semolina – not flour, the real thing. And a very fine crust it produces. More difficult to adopt his Italian, more is less approach: we’re in the British school of the more the better. Both view points worth exploring by trial and error.

Retro chicken hits the spot - 40 years on

It says that Robert Carrier's Great Dishes of the World was published in 1967, which is probably when I bought it. But he'd started writing in the Sunday Times before that and in those days (pre-Murdoch and its many rightward swings) I was an avid reader. So, it may have been even earlier when I made my first dish of chicken cacciatore, and it's been recycled ever since, as basic a dish for chicken as doing a stir fry.
Of course it's never the same every time you cook it, partly because you never mean to cook it: I mean, who would serve such a retro dish these days? Us of course.
I can't check the great man's recipe 'cos it's in a box of books whilst the conservatory is painted, but they all have the same thrust. Take large retro Le Creuset casserole (without handle type). Brown off the chicken - it can be a whole one in eight pieces, whole breasts, pieces eg chopped breast and thigh, any combination will do. As usual, don't be tempted to use cheap and nasty for this, it'll just be stringy and chewy, but a top of the range, corn fed organic is over the top, it's subtlety will simply be lost. Set chicken aside. Then soften onion and an excess of garlic, adding red and green pepper, again slices, chunks, whatever. Add the chicken back into the pan and give a good glug of red wine, boil most off.
Now to tomatoes: some no doubt suggest the real thing but here it's a waste of effort (considerable to peel the things) and you don't get the taste. Napolina is the brand for my money, a bit more than the own brands (13p for a tin of tomatoes, who you kidding?) but a great taste. And you need tomato paste as well.
Somehow I always end up with more sauce than it needs, but don't worry too much, any left over will make an instant pasta dish.
Now for flavouring: basil is a must, and lots of freshly chopped parsley. You can add chopped mushrooms, or a dash of mushroom ketchup. If you've used cheap tomatoes you may need a hint of sugar, and a glug of balsamic if the wine didn't enrich enough. Lots of seasoning too. I am sure there's a refined version of this to be had in Italy where each delicate flavour settles on the palate, but in 60's Britain we needed impact, so go for it.
Finally, cook off in a medium oven: you want the chicken to be intensely flavoured and the sauce rich and reduced. Whether you add black olives before you put it in the oven, or 20 minutes from the end is a matter of taste again, as is stoned or not. I love the rich olive taste so it's stones in, and straight in for me and watch the fillings.
What to eat with it? A mash of some sorts is great in the winter: potato and celeriac, creamed potato. For a Saturday lunch how about baked potato? Even chips: my first experience of casserole and chips was in a French restaurant in Stratford upon Avon circa 1966 and it quite blew me away.
Pasta if obvious is good, but something that's going to catch the sauce, so shells or penne rather than long straight stuff. And us last night? Dietary steamed veg, cauliflower, tiny carrots and broccoli. Great.

Not quite an Adriatic seafood supper

As the picture testifies our recent Croatian boat trip saw us eat a magnificent lunch of mackerel, freshly caught, with the heads hand fed to squawking sea gulls. I think we probably had four fish each - so tonight's two didn't look too greedy.
Four in a dish, well seasoned, a splash of olive oil, a finely chopped red onion, slices of lemon, and few sprigs of fresh thyme. A glug of apple juice is a suggestion in a Good Housekeeping recipe so it can't be wrong. Foiled and a hot oven for 30 minutes about.
I wanted a chunky salad: so pointed red Cambridgeshire cabbage - shredded, sliced mushrooms, more red onion, a tiny chilli, chunks of tomato. Tossed in best olive oil well seasoned and just before serving some shredded Cos lettuce folded in. I have found a trick for this sort of composed salads which is to mix everything 'dry' as it were before dressing. Somehow the flavours blend better than if you just give it a toss when dressing.
There was a fresh sourdough rye loaf to mop up juices and horseradish cream - made for us dieters with yoghourt, and non the worse for it.
I promised not to mention last night's takeout. Yuk.

Lip smacking leftovers

We noted earlier that the organic chicken hadn't lived up to its potential when roasted. It needed a second chance. So yesterday it was stripped from the carcass and every bit of bone and skin went into the stockpot with carrots and onions, bay leaves (home dried), peppercorns and water. Forgotten about on a bubbling boil for a couple of hours it yielded some excellent stock.
Happy Dryw (the dog) got a carrot or two.
In the weekly shop there were four fresh sweetcorns, most surprisingly au naturel and not vacuum packed to within an inch of their lives. The corns were stripped (just use a large, very sharp knife to cut the kernels off the corn) into the stock. I added a couple of teaspoons of Marigold organic vegetable stock for colour and taste. Ten minutes of boiling and I thickened a little with two teaspoons (heaped) of cornflour stirred into half a big tub of yoghourt until smooth. (You could use cream or fromage frais but that diet thing ...)
Into the bubbling soup with the chopped chicken - there was quite a lot - and a quick cook through. It needed quite a bit more seasoning.
The result, significantly better than the same dish made with just any old chicken and frozen sweetcorn (something we have done regularly). Goes to show, again, what goes in the pot in terms of quality, comes out.
Big bowls were followed by a small slice of Mediterranean vegetable tart (shop), with plenty in the fridge for later lunches. So, in the end, chicken did good.

Emptying the shopping bags

Ok, so I mostly don't get the horror of the supermarket shop, but I do get the job of emptying all those bloody Bags. Do we really need/eat all this stuff? Apparently we do.
Rarely do I feel like a proper cook after this - just too much food - and the exercise usually involves finding stuff hidden in the back of the fridge that has to be eaten now!
So there was a less than a portion of roasted vegetables, and half a tin of tomatoes that demanded attention. And a pack of shop made (Tesco Finest) cannelloni stuffed with ricotta and spinach. They all seemed destined for each other.
The left-overs were bunged in a saucepan with a glug of mushroom ketchup, a splash of balsamic vinegar and attacked with the hand held blender until pureed. A handful of chopped purple basil (again nearing the end of life) and parsley perked the whole thing up. Voila, instant sauce to cover the pasta which went into a dish into a hot oven for 25 minutes. Oh, and a grate of cheese on top.
Not half bad too it turned out. I have done the stuff your tubes with cheesy spinach mix: comparing effort to result the shop ones came out on top. The sauce, well a happy happen chance of leftovers.

The Art of Festering - and nearly instant food

Mentioned this notion before: that some things are best left to their own devices to develop taste and unctuousness by natural processes. This is probably akin to the biological and physical actions called 'rotting' in other situations, but let's not dwell on that.
Supper tonight was a perfect example of many things: the virtue of making a curry from the finest ingredients (in this instance the remains of a leg of lamb that had first been baked on a bed of vegetables to which a can of beer had been added; plenty of herbs and three hours on a very low oven - thank you for the inspiration Rick Stein), not eating it all at once (another virtue indeed), and the festering effect of freezing.
I hope no-one out there's in the camp that decries microwaves and freezers as devices of the culinary devil. For us they are essential to eating well, cheaply and sometimes fast.
So take the curry: one click top box full of lamb with aubergine and defrost, along with a couple of portions of frozen mixed rice (wild, brown and organic white) cooked to store a week ago. Now, there were last night's left over potatoes (red salad ones as it happens) and they got diced and thrown into the lamb to reheat.
Now this sort of meal can easily be lacking the fresh veg we need - so I made large bowl of raita: peel and chop half a cucumber; finely chop about a third of a red onion; sprinkle with salt; then fold into thick plain yoghourt. Now you don't want anything too posh for the yoghourt: it mustn't have any sense of sweetness for my taste, so the extraordinary River Cottage yoghourt that tastes as though it's made from double cream is no good. Sprinkle on a quarter teaspoon of garam masala and a pile of chopped coriander and you're done.
Make sure curry and rice are piping hot. Serve in deep bowls and feast. Chapatis, nan breads et al will bulk out the fibre if you need too .... but they really need to be home made so no time tonight ....

Flat pack bread - the result

So proof of the pudding - in this case the bread - is in the eating. And the Ikea loaf in the box has passed with flying colours.
First this morning it made toast. Now any bread this substantial is going to make quite a slice and this was no exception, but it became crisp and chewy with a good bite. Not quite the long taste of a sourdough, but interesting enough and fine with peanut butter and home made lime marmalade - separately that is.
Tonight we had it with a selection of cheeses and it again was good - not overpowering, but interesting and moorish.
So, it does work. And I expect it to improve with age over the next few days - if it lasts that long....
The rest of supper was an organic chicken roasted with fresh herbs on a bed of thinly sliced fennel. Great taste, tough to eat. The roasted vegetables were refreshed with half a tin of tomatoes, and there were steamed red potatoes. Altogether good, if disappointing, expensive bird. The left overs had better be good.

Bread in a box? Seriously?

Well, yes. It's seems that Ikea can even flat pack food. We all know, don't we, that its food shop has great crisp bread, scrummy herrings of all sorts and wonderful red berry compote (far too slurpy to be called jam by the British and great on home made muesli (passim)) and of course meat balls? Now it has added Swedish rye bread in a box.
It has been blogged about before, but I hadn't noticed and this one didn't have much success.
The first thing is that although not cheap (about £2) the contents of the box seems to have a fine provenance: the home of Nordic rye bread and a family firm of millers who are big time in that part of the world. They are called Finax and as well as bread, produce muesli and a whole range, no less, of shake in the box products, especially muffins. See a fun video here.
So, what do you get? Well a box obviously, and of the Tetrapak kind since it was invented thereabouts. The instructions are clear: add water (for this you do need a thermometer, which as a sometimes souredough maker we had), and shake for 45 secs. I'd recommend a bit longer since there was a lump of hesitant ingredients lurking in a corner when I tipped it out straight into a greased bread tin: wait for 45 mins. It didn't rise much but you wouldn't expect a bread of this sort to. Into hot oven and wait another hour (again this might seem a long time, but par for the course for this sort of bread).
What's it like? No telling, yet. I'll turn it out and let it fester: most rye bread is best left for a day so I suspect it'll be started at breakfast tomorrow. I'll let you know.
For now it's off to finish the roasted veg, steamed broccoli and grilled organic burgers from the happy pig man (Caermynydd Piggery Free Range Pork 01974 821 361 01545 571 607) at the Riverside food market.

Lazy food days

It started Friday because sister in law needed birthday pub lunch and The Halfway is a few yards from the office and home. A perfectly competent fish and chips did the job, but why the bullet sized peas? They're one thing that freezes well so either buy decent ones or make them mushy. Supper reduced to bread and cheese to compensate.
Saturday got off to a flying start with a Big Breakfast (poached eggs, mushrooms and tomatoes with Sunflower seeded toast) so lunch was off the agenda. However, a surprise find at Ogmore Castle and the nearby farm tea rooms meant a slice of 'Judith's' white chocolate cake with a dark chocolate granache: one between two mind you. Quite the most amazing view and a cake to go back for.
So, again some bought stuffed pasta for supper and early to bed.

Real Sardines on Toast

For this you need some left over (or specially done, worth it) grilled sardines, not a tin (delicious though they are in their own right).
Carefully fillet the by now cold fish - you can be picky about only using really nice bits, free of bones, they are so very cheap.
Toast a slice of good bread per person - we used tonight a seven seeds, wholegrain; sourdough would be good, Ciabata if it's your thing. Butter. Cover with chopped crisp lettuce stuff (or posh leaves if you want, but I like crunchy for this).
Now lay the fish on top, be generous. Sprinkle on a good quantity of chopped red onion and finish with a dollop of salsa - shop will be fine. Stick a gherkin or two alongside.
Eat and be surprised.
It was an occasion when the starter was infinitely better than what followed - an indifferent stir fry of fresh vegetables, hair noodles and spicy sausage. The spicy wasn't, I'd held back on the black bean sauce, the vegetables didn't shine and the hair noodles were just - well, hairy. Win some, lose some.

Terrine defrosts with impact

So craving meat, we decided to start with a terrine salad - before the half dozen sardines to share. This was no more complicated than remembering to take a two-slice pack out of the deep freeze where it had lain for a week or so.
It's original purpose had been to provide a starter for guests (one of whom turned out not to eat meat, alongside another who wouldn't be able to eat it because of the fat content - hey, ho such is home catering.) It was prepared as a special treat for the partner of the low-fat guest since he, gamely and for his own health, usually stuck with the house rules. So a good one was required.
We happened to have a liver from the last dead pig so the other meat required was a good 600 grams of minced pork (organic and almost no fat) from the butcher. The technique is simple, but likely to be gory for some. This suits a large - 14 inches or so - terrine.
You need a Magimix or similar to avoid too much chopping. Start with the fresh breadcrumbs: as usual you get out what you put in so nice sourdough or decent brown organic with a bit of rough stuff is good. You need a good couple of handfuls of roughish, not fine crumbs. Then blitz a load of fresh herbs - parsley and sage are pretty essential. If you like crunchy bits why not stick a few whole pepper corns in for zapping too? I don't think you can really overdo the herbs ....
In a large bowl really mix the minced meat, crumbs and herby seasoning together: at this point using hands is definitely best.
Back to the Magimix - which you don't need to have cleaned if you are doing things in this order - in which we are going to chop the liver, unless that is you want to do it by hand. For the machine, you need to have removed all the obviously unnecessary bits and cut the liver into big chunks. Then, using the zap (or pulse) button chop the liver. If you end up being too energetic and are left with a mush, don't worry.
Mix liver into meat (spatula for me at this point) add one whole egg and a glug of something alcoholic - red wine, Marsala, Port all work. If you have some, a tablespoon or good glug of cognac is good too. We need a pretty moist, but not sloppy consistency. Season aggressively. If you want to check the seasoning take a teaspoonful of the mix and quickly fry a little ball in a non stick fry pan - and taste.
Now prep your terrine: you need a good quantity of rindless (saves a lot of work) streaky bacon, unsmoked. I use a rolling pin to spread it out - a meat basher does the job too if you have one. You need to line the dish so that you have enough hanging over bits of bacon to cover the top when it's filled.
Pile about half of the meat mix into the baconed terrine. Then add a layer of goodies - this is what make it so interesting to eat, and pretty to look at when sliced. For this particular one I used a roasted Guinea Fowl - laying long shreds in the centre of the dish. Then a good sprinkling of pine nuts (lightly toasted if you have time) chopped nuts, whatever. Some chunky strips of ham covered everything. We're putting in texture, contrast and eye candy here.
Pile the rest of the meat on top making sure it envelopes the middle layer of extras, pull all the bacon slices over it, put half a dozen bay leaves prettily on the top and it's done. It needs a baine marie (big baking pan/dish half filled with boiling water) and a slowish cook, medium oven for a couple of hours covered with foil. If the skewer comes out clean it's done.
As soon as it's cool enough to handle, fold the foil into a shape that neatly fits the top of your dish. Then precariously balance tins along the whole length - you want as much weight as you can to compress the terrine while it cools.
When cold (probably overnight) put in fridge and try to resist eating for at least 24 hours. There's an important cooking technicality called 'festering' and it applies to curries, terrines, and even some cakes.
For the first serving (this has made at least ten portions!) cheat by carefully removing the whole terrine from its dish - discarding the jelly that will have collected if you have fat sensitive friends like me (oh happy dog!) and with a very sharp knife cut the slices you need, putting the rest back into the now cleaned dish. You get an 'Ooh Aah' factor from the luscious slice on its plate with a few leaves and, yes a fanned gherkin (posh Cornichons in a separate dish please).
Leftovers, slice, pack in pairs with kitchen paper in between, and freeze in bags. Defrost naturally and they're just as scrummy as the day they were made.
This is not a dish for the fainted hearted, either in making or eating. Yep, real meat.

Starting with left overs

There are some kitchen jobs that define the notion of boredom and make little or no difference to the outcome: halving and deseeding grapes, taking the pips out of tomatoes or cucumbers. Some mind numbing tasks however have a real impact or are essential: double shelling big broad beans springs to mind. And shucking the left over mussels ...
They had to be done before bed last night and the box had a lot more in than I had anticipated meaning that they deserved something more than left over status. So although 'starters' aren't usually on the menu in the week, that's what they became. A heafty slosh of lime juice in some Hellman's made a good mayo and all there was to do was make a pile of leaves, mussels and mayo.
The surprise was how good it was. I'd have never have thought of cooking fresh mussels for this sort of thing - even for a posh nosh night with guests. How wrong can you be? They were incomparably better than anything from the fishmonger, fresher, juicier and with a much more subtle taste than bought pre-cooked. So next time I do a starter like this, fresh it has to be, in spite of all that shelling......
To follow in this fishiest of weeks: a couple of large trout simply grilled, on a plate with fresh steamed spinach and some sauteed brown mushrooms. Too much already?

Fishy week ahead

The bags gave it away: the weekly shop has loads of fish. Apparently we've been eating too much meat. Fine by me.
First off then the mussels. Not from the Menai Straits here in Wales where 50% of the UK's mussles are landed, no these were from West Scotland, via Morrisons, a pretty unusual supermarket choice for us.
So one chopped leek, a handful of spring onions, a lump of fennel all chopped and sweated in a bit of olive oil. Half a bottle of white wine, some chopped parsley, seasonings and a ten minute bubble in our largest saucepan (a Robert Welch steamer without the steamer bit).
Whilst that looks after itself, the scraping and de-bearding of the mussels - boring but not a culinary challenge, but I bet that's what puts people off. And we had two bags - one never seems enough and the two were going to make us fuller than full and leave some for a salad tomorrow.
They seemed very fine, few broken or open ones (bin these) and were soon ready to cook. I have to admit that the other half of Belgium's national dish (the chips) were a low fat, skins on , oven cook variety that promised lots of flavour and few calories ... well you can't have everything.
In with the mussels, on with the lid. Wait. A big stir - there was a ton of the beasts - and a bit longer. Then, when they were all opened they were piled high in deep bowls, with a large plastic mixing bowl for the debris.
Not neat or decorous eating, you have to get in there with the shell you use as a clamp for the next tasty mollusc extracted from its shell. Of course, some people hate them and assume that you'll die from poisoning instantly.
For us, the first of our fishy suppers: quick, inexpensive and a dish quite without equal. The chips? Ok, ish.

Muesli as Luxury

If you stay at Holiday Inn Expresses (which I do often and recommend as the best of the cheap brands) the best you get for breakfast is Alpen. Now once we thought that was very good for you, but now we know that it's sugar laden (although it says not!) and tastes like, well yes, sawdust.
I remember the shock of real Bircher Muesli when staying at the Hilton in Brussels where in the little bar/breakfast room reserved for boring business men (actually all men) they served the most delicious and luxurious freshly made muesli. Hooked I was on stuff 'invented' in 1887.
Now Google off and see that there are 80,000 entries and most of them recipes claiming to be original. Well here's my version, modeled on the luxurious, but healthy one I tasted that day.
I make enough in one go for about four portions - that's two days for two of us if it doesn't get snacked. Keeps ok, the apple will discolour whatever you do. But fresh is best. Start before going to bed.
First cast your oats - two generous handfuls of the best you can get, look for organic and not too milled. Supermarket 'best' is ok but never, but never try this with Quaker Oats! A further handful of sultanas and cover the lot with apple juice - not too much, when you wake up you want the oats and fruit to have soaked up the juice and be plump and squidgy, not swimming in it.
In the morning finish off: grate one large or two small apples into the mix. We're now enjoying early Worcesters from the farmers' market at Riverside. Call Old Sandlin Fruit apples and pears 01886 833200 07768 748 798 - use their juice for absolute heaven.
Then add a couple tablespoons each of seeds, sunflower, pumpkin, whatever and quite a lot more of roughly chopped nuts, again whatever takes your fancy, but mixed and either plain or slightly roasted. You want to end up with a ratio of soaked oats and other stuff of about 50:50, this is meant to be scrummy, not scrimpy.
When you're convinced it's mixed to distribute all the tastes fairly, add some creamy stuff. Yes, low fat natural yoghourt will do, but if dieting is not on the agenda - when's that? - use fromage frais low or full fat. I have been known to use clotted cream! You want a sticky mass consistency not sloppy.
Finally put in a bowl and eat, on its own, or with a generous blob of compote, or just a chopped banana if you want a sugar kick.
After a few 'testings' you'll have perfected your own particular mix of crunchy, vibrant, fresh goodness. Don't let anyone tell you it's not the original recipe, 'cos it is, it's your original recipe and that's so much nicer.

A late Sunday lunch thanks to Waitrose

There are only two Waitrose supermarkets in Wales. We couldn't afford to shop there much anyway, but that is still bad news. Our nearest at Barry is always empty (of customers that is) but well stocked and personed (how do we do without manned?) by very nice staff.
Enough of adverts: we were starving having been walking at Pothkerry Country Park and needed a quick fix when we got home.
Thinking of the success we've had twice with feeding people with various of Nigel's Chicken Rice Salad (done with duck once for posher friends), I cobbled this together as I ran round.
This was a substantial two: double rice and stuff for four, there's enough chicken for four easy.

Lazy warm chicken salad al la Slater

Grab: one hot chicken, pouch of Tilda cooked rice (I used lime and coriander), bag of leaves - ought to include rocket I feel, spring onions, tasty tomatoes. (The last two items had come previously from Darts Farm very excellent shop. We also ate there really good - as good as you get - fresh fish and chips. Recommended)
You will also need lime juice, fish sauce, decent olive oil, a fresh chilli or two, some flat leaf parsley and fresh mint: but you have all those things lying around, don't you?
How to: snip of top off rice pouch and microwave (yes, we have one! I know ....) for two minutes or a bit less. We only want it warm not piping hot.
In a big bowl mix two glugs each of oil, fish sauce, lime juice. Add chopped herbs and onions and finely chopped chilli to taste - it needs a kick.
After the rice has calmed down a bit add to the bowl and give hearty stir to ensure all the rice has a chance to soak up some more flavour. If you are using left over rice (hell of a lot cheaper of course) you may want to boost the seasoning a bit more.
Now you've choices. If you are following the Slater route you'll chop up the chicken nicely, add to the rice and add sprouts. That's good. Today I did it easier. Into deep plates I piled the leaves, made a bit of a space and put the rice in the middle - yes it wilts the leaves a bit..
Then some nice chunks of the quite warm bird on top, some slices of the flavoursome tomatoes, a splash more oil and off to table. Crunchy bread, red wine, sleep (well it is Sunday).
Prep time less than ten minutes. Cost, extravagant 'cos lazy, but it was Waitrose so it all tasted great.

Eat your heart out Nigel

Ok, so the wondrous, never to be slated Nigel did it first. And wrote a bloody good book that we use all the time to feed our faces with. But I have been meaning since the beginning of blogtime to focus on food, recipes and stuff, but only intermittently covered it in my other blog (here).
Lots of people, especially those who have eaten Chez Cox have said, "why don't you do a food blog?"
So here it is. With all due deference to the amazing Nige.
The rules are simple:
- it's food what we've eaten
- if home cooked you get the essential on how to replicate (not quite the same as a recipe note ...)
- we confess if it was ghastly
- sometimes I'll do historical entries eg stuff from the hotel I ran
- plagiarism will always be acknowledged.
So, here we go, and guess what ... the first lunch is influenced by ......