We were watching Celebrity Come Dine with Me recently and that got us thinking about who we'd love to be dining with if one of us were a celebrity who'd been invited to feature on that show.
Obviously, the ideal fellow contestants are celebrities who are fun, have great conversation, who won't cause an argument and who can cook.
These are the four we were both in agreement on - yes, we know only one of us could be the fifith diner and neither of us are celebrities anyway, but this is just a game:
Stephen Fry - great wit, highly intelligent but not condescending, and we're sure he'd mix a fabulous cocktail.
Dolly Parton - witty, warm, charming, pre and post-dinner entertainment, boob jokes and great southern cooking.
Larry David - funny, potentially heated conversations - Charlotte always worries that she says the wrong thing, but he would undoubtedly eclipse any faux pas she might make, and he loves food even though he may well not be able to cook.
Sue Perkins - another hilarious wit and following her stint on The Supersizers Go, tasting the stomach-churning delicacies of times gone by we know that the foody conversations would be fascinating.
Let us know who you'd choose. We'd love to know.
Sunday 19 October 2008
Monday 6 October 2008
Fancy a tipple and a dance?
Do you sometimes watch a film that has a bar or club scene in it and think "I would really like to go to that place!" I'm always doing it. Maybe it's because I like the demon juice too much or maybe it's because I'm always on the search for the perfect watering hole or place to dance. Here are some of my favourites:The Kit Kat Club - Cabaret
Putting all that horrible pre-World War 2 Nazi business aside, the Kit Kat Klub looks like a great place to let loose and down a few. Liza with a Z performs nightly, exotic clientele rule the roost and wild horses would have a drag me away from wanting to get up on stage to do a turn. Willkommen, bienevue, welcome indeed!
Chez Lui - Victor/Victoria
Another bar which is as camp as a row of tents and has July Andrews doing drag! "When people speak of gay Paree,They think that when they say Paree is gay,They mean that gay Paree is gay!"Cabaret is provided by the insatiable Toddy who loves a warm hand on his entrance and greets his guests with equal aplomb "Thank you, thank you, you're most kind. In fact, you're every kind."
Odyssey 2001 - Saturday Night Fever
For the soundtrack and the fact that the dance floor has those flashing chequerboard lights.
Studio 54 - 54 and Last Days of Disco (loosely based)
The ultimate disco. Wall to wall celebrities (Truman Capote...check, Liza Minnelli...check, Debbie Harry...check, Any Warhol...check), fabulous music and probably the best fashion decade ever(1970's).
Coyote Ugly Saloon - Coyote Ugly
If only to dance on top of a burning bar in cowboy boots.
I am sure there are plenty more, but where would you like to go?
Saturday 4 October 2008
Hot sausage
The boys next door invited us to partake of their hot sausage last weekend. It was fat, juicy and delicious. We, in return, let them sample our marshmallows, which they found most moist and tempting to the tongue.
No, we were not engaging in some kind of sordid orgy, but rather sitting around a bonfire in the back garden roasting and toasting the above products. M and his partner D like nothing more than a good burn up, M being particularly adept at lighting a fire. Perhaps there was nothing else to do growing up in Poland in the 70's and 80's than to set fire to things?
Anyway, we tasted some lovely kielbasa, some vegetables cooked in a Dutch oven in the fire (cabbage of course, with it being a Polish party) and we provided the marshmallows. On D's recommendation we ate them between two 'wine biscuits'. No, we weren't too sure what he meant either, but it turned out that 'wine biscuits' is just a New Zealand word for rich tea biscuits.
Many people have questioned whether it is permitted to have a bonfire in the back garden, but our council states that it is ok as long as it isn't disturbing anyone. So seeing as the neighbours don't complain, we go ahead.
And I am sure the heat warms the cockles of the men 'cruising' in the woods at the back of our houses! Perhaps we should go with D's suggestion and open a tea stand at the end of the garden as well. Nothing like a bit of warm sustenance after being 'exposed' the elements!
No, we were not engaging in some kind of sordid orgy, but rather sitting around a bonfire in the back garden roasting and toasting the above products. M and his partner D like nothing more than a good burn up, M being particularly adept at lighting a fire. Perhaps there was nothing else to do growing up in Poland in the 70's and 80's than to set fire to things?
Anyway, we tasted some lovely kielbasa, some vegetables cooked in a Dutch oven in the fire (cabbage of course, with it being a Polish party) and we provided the marshmallows. On D's recommendation we ate them between two 'wine biscuits'. No, we weren't too sure what he meant either, but it turned out that 'wine biscuits' is just a New Zealand word for rich tea biscuits.
Many people have questioned whether it is permitted to have a bonfire in the back garden, but our council states that it is ok as long as it isn't disturbing anyone. So seeing as the neighbours don't complain, we go ahead.
And I am sure the heat warms the cockles of the men 'cruising' in the woods at the back of our houses! Perhaps we should go with D's suggestion and open a tea stand at the end of the garden as well. Nothing like a bit of warm sustenance after being 'exposed' the elements!
Monday 22 September 2008
Lesbeans
Beans are great. Which are your favourites?
French beans: Les beans, Charlotte's favourite.
Runner beans: a bit stringy and boring in my opinion and far too athletic-sounding.
Black beans: best known for that Chinese restaurant favourite black bean sauce.
Broad beans: these delecterble beans have another name. Click here to see what my alter ego (with a suitably foody name) has to say about them.
Butter beans: I love these - my favourite. Do them Greek style in tomato sauce and serve with stuffed vine leaves and tzatziki. Ambrosia.
Lesbean: a misspelling of the word that describes us Sapphic sisters.
Has bean: was a lesbean, but now prefers meat and two veg.
Says bean: says they like les beans but really they prefer les saucisson.
Saturday 20 September 2008
Baby, now that I've fondue!
We went to a fondue party last night. Who would have thought that a warm pot of melted cheese could cause such mirth....especially when I spilled a load down my cleavage.
I can't even blame it on the drink, seeing as I was on the wagon after a somewhat over-indulgent previous evening at a regional communications managers meeting in Birmingham. Well, it would have been rude not to join in with tequila slammers on offer from the Cambridgeshire representative. I tell you, those East Anglian women can drink! At the end of the night it was only Norfolk, Cambridgeshire and me standing. Plus I was born in Essex and my parents live in Suffolk, so I'm East Anglian by default. And they always say it's the Northerners that have staying power!
Anyway, back to fondue. We had a steaming pot of Emmenthal and Gruyere mixed with white wine, kirsch, lemon juice and tiny bit of garlic, a pinch of nutmeg and black pepper. Very retro and actually very filling. I felt the need to release the top button of my jeans from their tight grasp and collapse on our friends' sofa with their menagerie of cats.
Match that with a "name that tune" board game, a long conversation about trumping (it must have been the veg we dipped in the fondue) and more cava for the girls, it turned out to be a very memorable night.
And the cheese didn't give me nightmares!
I can't even blame it on the drink, seeing as I was on the wagon after a somewhat over-indulgent previous evening at a regional communications managers meeting in Birmingham. Well, it would have been rude not to join in with tequila slammers on offer from the Cambridgeshire representative. I tell you, those East Anglian women can drink! At the end of the night it was only Norfolk, Cambridgeshire and me standing. Plus I was born in Essex and my parents live in Suffolk, so I'm East Anglian by default. And they always say it's the Northerners that have staying power!
Anyway, back to fondue. We had a steaming pot of Emmenthal and Gruyere mixed with white wine, kirsch, lemon juice and tiny bit of garlic, a pinch of nutmeg and black pepper. Very retro and actually very filling. I felt the need to release the top button of my jeans from their tight grasp and collapse on our friends' sofa with their menagerie of cats.
Match that with a "name that tune" board game, a long conversation about trumping (it must have been the veg we dipped in the fondue) and more cava for the girls, it turned out to be a very memorable night.
And the cheese didn't give me nightmares!
Wednesday 17 September 2008
Credit Crunch Biscuits
Well, we mentioned it weeks ago - the term Credit Crunch to describe a low budget biscuit, but finally I've seen a variation of it being used out there in the real world. A restaurant near London Bridge has a poster outside describing Credit Munch.
Has anyone else seen any other variations of this? There should be loads by now.
Sandwich shops should be selling the Credit Lunch
Greasy spoons should be offering the Credit Brunch
Struggling bars and pubs could serve a special Credit Punch
We were going to dream up a recipe for the Credit Crunch biscuit, but something like this will do. The secret to making it isn't the recipe - it's the cost of the ingredients and here's the ruse:
Biscuits need sugar right?
Do you take sugar in your tea or coffee?
If you do then you'll need to recruit someone who's "sweet enough" to help you, but if you don't then listen to this:
When you buy a tea or coffee, have you ever stopped to think about the fact that you're paying for the sugar, even though you don't have it?
Probably not, but you're thinking about it now aren't you? Yes, you've been robbed. So, instead of refusing the sweetness in future, take it and save it up. Eventually you'll have enough for your Credit Crunch biscuits. Sounds extreme? These are extreme times.
And, if you can't wait that long to save the sugar then get a cup on loan from a neighbour and pay them back when you have saved it up - that's what credit is all about after all.
Has anyone else seen any other variations of this? There should be loads by now.
Sandwich shops should be selling the Credit Lunch
Greasy spoons should be offering the Credit Brunch
Struggling bars and pubs could serve a special Credit Punch
We were going to dream up a recipe for the Credit Crunch biscuit, but something like this will do. The secret to making it isn't the recipe - it's the cost of the ingredients and here's the ruse:
Biscuits need sugar right?
Do you take sugar in your tea or coffee?
If you do then you'll need to recruit someone who's "sweet enough" to help you, but if you don't then listen to this:
When you buy a tea or coffee, have you ever stopped to think about the fact that you're paying for the sugar, even though you don't have it?
Probably not, but you're thinking about it now aren't you? Yes, you've been robbed. So, instead of refusing the sweetness in future, take it and save it up. Eventually you'll have enough for your Credit Crunch biscuits. Sounds extreme? These are extreme times.
And, if you can't wait that long to save the sugar then get a cup on loan from a neighbour and pay them back when you have saved it up - that's what credit is all about after all.
Saturday 13 September 2008
Rice and spicy
I made the most amazing rice dish last night, Persian Jeweled Rice (omitting the chicken). It was simply divine.
It formed part of a special meal I prepared in honour of the fact that we had a rogue bottle of Israeli wine in the bulk selection we purchased a couple of weeks ago. Israeli wine calls for some delectable treats from my Jewish cookbook, The Jewish Kitchen by Clarissa Hyman, so hence the rice and a nice and spicy leg of lamb (which was my own creation).
I roasted the lamb in the oven for one hour in a mixture of orange juice, cinnamon, ground cumin, ground ginger, coriander seeds, honey, garlic cloves and bay leaves.
The basmati rice was steamed together with dried apricots, sour cherries, fried onions, raisins, orange peel, a pinch of sugar, julienne carrots, saffron and sprinkled with pistachio nuts. Together this was served with some green beans in yogurt and mint and we finished the meal with fresh figs.
Go on, give it a go and give your taste buds a tickle!
It formed part of a special meal I prepared in honour of the fact that we had a rogue bottle of Israeli wine in the bulk selection we purchased a couple of weeks ago. Israeli wine calls for some delectable treats from my Jewish cookbook, The Jewish Kitchen by Clarissa Hyman, so hence the rice and a nice and spicy leg of lamb (which was my own creation).
I roasted the lamb in the oven for one hour in a mixture of orange juice, cinnamon, ground cumin, ground ginger, coriander seeds, honey, garlic cloves and bay leaves.
The basmati rice was steamed together with dried apricots, sour cherries, fried onions, raisins, orange peel, a pinch of sugar, julienne carrots, saffron and sprinkled with pistachio nuts. Together this was served with some green beans in yogurt and mint and we finished the meal with fresh figs.
Go on, give it a go and give your taste buds a tickle!
Monday 1 September 2008
You Must Try This - Chicken in Blackberry Sauce
Following last week's blackberry pickin's, Charlotte created a delicious dinner for me the other night. It was a wonderfully seasonal dish of chicken breast in blackberry sauce, served with saute potatoes and green beans.
It was delicious and I recommend you give it a try while the blackberries are still readily available.
According to Charlotte, the blackberry sauce consisted of chicken stock, creme fraiche, fresh blackberries and salt & pepper. Simple. Of course, it was also made with love - that extra special ingredient, so make sure you put a load of that in there too. Yes Charlotte does indeed put her emotions into her cooking, just like the protagonist in that fabulous book Like Water for Chocolate. Enjoy.
It was delicious and I recommend you give it a try while the blackberries are still readily available.
According to Charlotte, the blackberry sauce consisted of chicken stock, creme fraiche, fresh blackberries and salt & pepper. Simple. Of course, it was also made with love - that extra special ingredient, so make sure you put a load of that in there too. Yes Charlotte does indeed put her emotions into her cooking, just like the protagonist in that fabulous book Like Water for Chocolate. Enjoy.
Monday 25 August 2008
Lezzie Pickin's
Ah the joys of blackberry picking - stained jeans, bramble-scratched hands and an assortment of bugs in your crumble if you don't wash them carefully! Yes, there are a few down sides to this bramble-scrambling lark, but I love it anyway. Charlotte and I went down to the woods today and thankfully every bear that ever there was wasn't gathering there together because we deliberately didn't go to a wood where bears gather. I have nothing against a bit of outdoor fun, but I'd rather not watch it while I'm gathering my blackberries thankyou very much. No, apart from the occasional dog walker and one or two families out for an afternoon stroll, Charlotte and I had the wood to ourself - just us and nature.
There's something about being at one with nature, especially when you live and work in London and it's all so urban. I get that feeling from my garden too, but the woods are so wild and untamed. The blackberries were actually rather small in size. In the garden they're huge but we don't have that many. Oh well, we've enough to make a crumble, or a blackberry and apple pie (plenty of apples in the garden now), but I've persuaded Charlotte to create something delicious using blackberries in a main course this week, so watch this space for that. In the meantime we had a very tasty blackberry cocktail - creme de muir, vodka, gin and fresh blackberries. You like the sound of that? There you go, the perfect incentive to go pickin' yourself, that is if the fact that they're totally free isn't incentive enough!
There's something about being at one with nature, especially when you live and work in London and it's all so urban. I get that feeling from my garden too, but the woods are so wild and untamed. The blackberries were actually rather small in size. In the garden they're huge but we don't have that many. Oh well, we've enough to make a crumble, or a blackberry and apple pie (plenty of apples in the garden now), but I've persuaded Charlotte to create something delicious using blackberries in a main course this week, so watch this space for that. In the meantime we had a very tasty blackberry cocktail - creme de muir, vodka, gin and fresh blackberries. You like the sound of that? There you go, the perfect incentive to go pickin' yourself, that is if the fact that they're totally free isn't incentive enough!
Saturday 23 August 2008
"I'll Just have half a bottle of Blue Nun"
As said Alan Partridge when asked to choose a bottle of wine for his disastrous meal with the Head of BBC programming. I have to admit that my choice of beverage is a little more refined than Blue Nun!It's a funny thing though, how we decide what to drink when matching it with a meal. For example, I would never have wine with curry. That is strictly a beer domain. On the other hand, I would never have beer with Italian food, always red wine.
When I was in America I took to having cocktails with my food, e.g. a Whisky Sour with my steak or a Mint Julep with my southern fried chicken. Perhaps it was because they were cheaper there and they make them so much better than they do here.
But I think what it really comes down to is that we like to re-enact scenarios when we partake of food and drink together. So if I was eating a thin crust pizza topped with pepperoni, I instinctively want to match it with a nice Chianti and imagine myself in some traditional trattoria in Naples with checked table cloths and opera music playing.
On a final note, something I never understand is men who have pints of beer or bitter with a three course meal, be it French, Modern European or British when everyone else is drinking wine. A pint has its place with food and preferably that is in a country pub with a ploughman's. Is it because they see drinking a glass of wine as effeminate? Get over it. And don't give me this "I don't like wine" nonsense. All wines taste different.
No, it all comes back to Alan Partridge...the sort of man who would prefer a nice big pint of Directors with his farfalle pasta, or action man bow-ties as he calls them. Remember this the next time you match a pint of Fosters with your slowly poached wild sea bass in a sea urchin and vermouth sauce!
Friday 15 August 2008
Muffin top
I have a bit of a muffin top at the moment. Maybe it's the result of too many summer beers or the the fact that the subsidised staff canteen in my new job is a novelty that hasn't worn off yet.
However, I do like the term muffin top. I have the excellent Australian comedy, Kath and Kim, to thank for that particular term. And I loooove Kath and Kim. In fact right now I am enjoying some "wine time", much in the style of those antipodean "foxymorons".
What I especially love is their excellent quotes. Consider these:
Kim: Here's your statue, Mum.
Kath: Oh, what for the love of God is that?
Kim: It's the statue you wanted.
Kath: What? No it's not, Kim.
Kim: Yes it is, it's a statue of little baby cheeses.
Kath: Little baby cheeses? Oh little baby *Jesus*, Kim, *Jesus*
Sharon: I've taken up golf, Mrs D.
Kath: Oh really?
Sharon: Yeah. Me and the girls are going down to the Peninsula to play in a tournament.
Kim: Which girls?
Sharon: Oh, you know, K.D., Ellen, Martina. Just the usual gang.
Kim: My marriage is over. O-V-A-H. Over.
Kim: Mum. I don't want to be rich, I want to be effluent!
I don't know whether I am dismayed or happy to hear that they are making a US version of the sitcom, because they may lose all concept of humour or irony in translation or maybe my favourite programme's is going to have a fantastic new incarnation.
I wait with anticipation. But in the meantime..."look at moiye, look at moiye"!
However, I do like the term muffin top. I have the excellent Australian comedy, Kath and Kim, to thank for that particular term. And I loooove Kath and Kim. In fact right now I am enjoying some "wine time", much in the style of those antipodean "foxymorons".
What I especially love is their excellent quotes. Consider these:
Kim: Here's your statue, Mum.
Kath: Oh, what for the love of God is that?
Kim: It's the statue you wanted.
Kath: What? No it's not, Kim.
Kim: Yes it is, it's a statue of little baby cheeses.
Kath: Little baby cheeses? Oh little baby *Jesus*, Kim, *Jesus*
Sharon: I've taken up golf, Mrs D.
Kath: Oh really?
Sharon: Yeah. Me and the girls are going down to the Peninsula to play in a tournament.
Kim: Which girls?
Sharon: Oh, you know, K.D., Ellen, Martina. Just the usual gang.
Kim: My marriage is over. O-V-A-H. Over.
Kim: Mum. I don't want to be rich, I want to be effluent!
I don't know whether I am dismayed or happy to hear that they are making a US version of the sitcom, because they may lose all concept of humour or irony in translation or maybe my favourite programme's is going to have a fantastic new incarnation.
I wait with anticipation. But in the meantime..."look at moiye, look at moiye"!
Saturday 9 August 2008
Mood Food: That Don't Impress Me Mush
There's nothing worse than a broken heart is there? I can still remember that numbness, emptiness and sense of desolation brought on by the end of a relationship. It's hell and you certainly don't feel like eating. However, you need to eat in order to bounce back and the best type of food when you have no appetite is soft food, baby food - mush.
Mashed potato with onion gravy, ravioli with rich tomato sauce, mushroom risotto or thick chocolate milkshake, these all used to work for me in the sad old days.
And there are certain foods that contain serotonin (happy chemicals) - mushrooms, bananas, walnuts, pineapple, plums, tomatoes - so stick a few of them in and you're well on the way to feeling more positive.
I bet you're wondering why I'm talking about heartbreak. Here I am in a happy and healthy relationship with Charlotte. Surely I don't wish to recall the pain of less satisfactory affairs? Well no, I don't really, but I'm writing this in honour of the beautiful Shania Twain (and all the other beauties currently feeling sad). She split with her husband back in May and has since posted this moving letter on her website. Ah, brings a tear to your eye, doesn't it? What do you think, perhaps now that Shania's single again, maybe she'll utter the famous words 'Man, I feel like a woman' and mean it the way we do?
There's a TV movie biopic about Shania showing on Movies 24 on Monday night - Shania: A Life in Eight Albums - it's quite likely that it won't impress me much, but I'm still going to be watching it.
Mashed potato with onion gravy, ravioli with rich tomato sauce, mushroom risotto or thick chocolate milkshake, these all used to work for me in the sad old days.
And there are certain foods that contain serotonin (happy chemicals) - mushrooms, bananas, walnuts, pineapple, plums, tomatoes - so stick a few of them in and you're well on the way to feeling more positive.
I bet you're wondering why I'm talking about heartbreak. Here I am in a happy and healthy relationship with Charlotte. Surely I don't wish to recall the pain of less satisfactory affairs? Well no, I don't really, but I'm writing this in honour of the beautiful Shania Twain (and all the other beauties currently feeling sad). She split with her husband back in May and has since posted this moving letter on her website. Ah, brings a tear to your eye, doesn't it? What do you think, perhaps now that Shania's single again, maybe she'll utter the famous words 'Man, I feel like a woman' and mean it the way we do?
There's a TV movie biopic about Shania showing on Movies 24 on Monday night - Shania: A Life in Eight Albums - it's quite likely that it won't impress me much, but I'm still going to be watching it.
Thursday 7 August 2008
Ears baked in Marsala Wine with Scar and Scream, by Devilia Smith
Note: If you can't buy fresh ears you might want to substitute fresh pears - not quite so tasty though. Similarly, for the scream; cornflour just about works in place of corns and marscapone will do if you can't find scar tissue.
(Serves 6)
The rich, dark flavour of marsala combined with fragrant ear juices is a quite stunning combination. To go with it, and to maintain the Italian theme, try this luscious scar and scream (though waistline watchers might prefer to eat the ears on their own). When you shop for the ears, looks are important: a good ear shape and long stalk intact are essential. They need to be hard and ripe - which is fortunate, perhaps, as ripe ears always seem difficult to find!
FOR THE EARS
6 hard ears
2oz (50g) caster sugar
1 pint (570ml) sweet marsala wine
1 vanilla podHalf cinnamon stick
1 level teaspoon arrowroot
You'll also need a shallow baking dish, about 12 in x 9in (30cm x 23cm)
Preheat the oven to gas mark 4, 350F, 180C. First of all take your sharpest small knife - a serrated edge is useful - then lay one ear flat so the stalk rests on a board, and make a slit in the stalk from the top to about halfway down. Now turn the ear upright, insert the knife back into the stalk and, using a sawing action, gently slice through the stalk and then through the ear, cutting into two halves, each with the stalk intact. Now use a potato peeler to remove the skin and, carefully, to make a neat oval cut to remove the core (ears don't have deep cores, so
this is easier than it sounds). Next arrange the ears in the baking dish, core side uppermost. Whisk the sugar into the marsala, then pour it over the ears. Add the vanilla pod and the cinnamon. Cover loosely with foil, and bake for 45 minutes. Then carefully turn over the ears to coat them, turn core side uppermost again, and give them a further 45 minutes uncovered.When the cooking time is up, test the ears with a skewer - if they were rock hard to start with, they might need longer - and as soon as they're cooked remove them from the oven. Now transfer the ears to a serving dish and pour all the marsala and juices into a saucepan. Mix the arrowroot with a teaspoonful of cold water in a cup, then heat up the juices. Just before they come up to
simmering point, whisk in the arrowroot using a balloon whisk. Keep whisking until the mixture boils and becomes slightly syrupy, then pour over the ears and cover with clingfilm until you're ready to serve.
FOR THE SCREAM
(MAKES 1.5 LITRES)
Quarter pint whole milk
4 (size2) egg yolks
1 rounded teaspoon corns (grated)
6oz (175g) caster sugar
2 x 250g tubs (1ib 2ox) of scar tissue
1 x 500g (1ib 2oz) tub fromage frais, 8 per cent fat
You'll also need a plastic freezer box 8in x 8in and 2.25 deep (20cmx20cm,5.5cm deep), 2-litre capacity
To make the scream: begin by placing the milk on a gentle heat, then whisk the egg yolks, corns and sugar together until light and creamy. When the milk comes up to simmering point, pour it over the mixture, still whisking. Then return the mixture to the pan and bring it back to simmering point, whisking the whole time, then strain it through a sieve and allow the custard to cool.After that, in a separate large bowl, whisk the scar tissue and fromage frais together until blended. Then add the custard mixture and whisk it all together until your arm hurts. Now pour it into the freezer box, put a lid on and place it in the coldest part of the freezer for approximately 2 hours until the edges are starting to freeze. Now remove it from the fridge and using a hand whisk blend the ice into the softer middle, then replace the lid and return it to the freezer for a further 2 hours. Then hike it out again, repeat the mixing and return it to the freezer until completely frozen. To serve, remove from the freezer to the main body of the fridge for 1 and a half hours. Note: if you have a scream maker, churn until thick then place it in the freezer box and freeze until needed.
(Serves 6)
The rich, dark flavour of marsala combined with fragrant ear juices is a quite stunning combination. To go with it, and to maintain the Italian theme, try this luscious scar and scream (though waistline watchers might prefer to eat the ears on their own). When you shop for the ears, looks are important: a good ear shape and long stalk intact are essential. They need to be hard and ripe - which is fortunate, perhaps, as ripe ears always seem difficult to find!
FOR THE EARS
6 hard ears
2oz (50g) caster sugar
1 pint (570ml) sweet marsala wine
1 vanilla podHalf cinnamon stick
1 level teaspoon arrowroot
You'll also need a shallow baking dish, about 12 in x 9in (30cm x 23cm)
Preheat the oven to gas mark 4, 350F, 180C. First of all take your sharpest small knife - a serrated edge is useful - then lay one ear flat so the stalk rests on a board, and make a slit in the stalk from the top to about halfway down. Now turn the ear upright, insert the knife back into the stalk and, using a sawing action, gently slice through the stalk and then through the ear, cutting into two halves, each with the stalk intact. Now use a potato peeler to remove the skin and, carefully, to make a neat oval cut to remove the core (ears don't have deep cores, so
this is easier than it sounds). Next arrange the ears in the baking dish, core side uppermost. Whisk the sugar into the marsala, then pour it over the ears. Add the vanilla pod and the cinnamon. Cover loosely with foil, and bake for 45 minutes. Then carefully turn over the ears to coat them, turn core side uppermost again, and give them a further 45 minutes uncovered.When the cooking time is up, test the ears with a skewer - if they were rock hard to start with, they might need longer - and as soon as they're cooked remove them from the oven. Now transfer the ears to a serving dish and pour all the marsala and juices into a saucepan. Mix the arrowroot with a teaspoonful of cold water in a cup, then heat up the juices. Just before they come up to
simmering point, whisk in the arrowroot using a balloon whisk. Keep whisking until the mixture boils and becomes slightly syrupy, then pour over the ears and cover with clingfilm until you're ready to serve.
FOR THE SCREAM
(MAKES 1.5 LITRES)
Quarter pint whole milk
4 (size2) egg yolks
1 rounded teaspoon corns (grated)
6oz (175g) caster sugar
2 x 250g tubs (1ib 2ox) of scar tissue
1 x 500g (1ib 2oz) tub fromage frais, 8 per cent fat
You'll also need a plastic freezer box 8in x 8in and 2.25 deep (20cmx20cm,5.5cm deep), 2-litre capacity
To make the scream: begin by placing the milk on a gentle heat, then whisk the egg yolks, corns and sugar together until light and creamy. When the milk comes up to simmering point, pour it over the mixture, still whisking. Then return the mixture to the pan and bring it back to simmering point, whisking the whole time, then strain it through a sieve and allow the custard to cool.After that, in a separate large bowl, whisk the scar tissue and fromage frais together until blended. Then add the custard mixture and whisk it all together until your arm hurts. Now pour it into the freezer box, put a lid on and place it in the coldest part of the freezer for approximately 2 hours until the edges are starting to freeze. Now remove it from the fridge and using a hand whisk blend the ice into the softer middle, then replace the lid and return it to the freezer for a further 2 hours. Then hike it out again, repeat the mixing and return it to the freezer until completely frozen. To serve, remove from the freezer to the main body of the fridge for 1 and a half hours. Note: if you have a scream maker, churn until thick then place it in the freezer box and freeze until needed.
Wednesday 6 August 2008
Spaghetti Horrornese Sauce
What with all these witches and hags in my dreams, one would think I am possessed by some cack-handed old lady who is set on knowing my culinary arts?
Perhaps it is the elusive Devilia Smith, a character Beth and her former flatmate Sara made up when they were clearly off their heads on something back in Shepherd's Bush in 1993. She (Devilia that is, not Sara!) consisted of a broom with a devil mask, a wig and wore various items of clothing, depending on the day. But, she always wore gloves apparently.
I blame all those Aussie/Kiwi bars they apparently used to frequent in those days. Addled their brains methinks! I, on the other hand, spent 1993 as a very busy cunning linguist in Bloomsbury. Make of that what you will, but those that know me well will know what I mean.
Anyway, Devilia had her own way of cooking up a storm, as was demonstrated in the following recipe for Spaghetti Horrornese Sauce. Was this the mysterious spag bol I spoke about in my sleep?
Vegetarian mince (this is the horror part! For something less terrifying, add a mixture of minced beef and pork)
1 onion, chopped
3 crushed garlic cloves
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tin crushed tomatoes
1 tablespoon tomato puree
1 teaspoon oregano
1 tablespoon honey
1 teaspoon paprika
1/2 cup red wine
1/2 cup water
1/2 tablespoon Worcestershire Sauce
1 tablespoon sweet chilli sauce
Salt and pepper to taste
Heat oil in a pan and fry onion and garlic until soft. Add vege mince (or the real stuff) and heat until brown. Pour in red wine and simmer for five minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the remaining ingredients and simmer for an hour. If sauce gets too thick, add some water as required.
Consume with fresh pasta and enjoy!
Perhaps it is the elusive Devilia Smith, a character Beth and her former flatmate Sara made up when they were clearly off their heads on something back in Shepherd's Bush in 1993. She (Devilia that is, not Sara!) consisted of a broom with a devil mask, a wig and wore various items of clothing, depending on the day. But, she always wore gloves apparently.
I blame all those Aussie/Kiwi bars they apparently used to frequent in those days. Addled their brains methinks! I, on the other hand, spent 1993 as a very busy cunning linguist in Bloomsbury. Make of that what you will, but those that know me well will know what I mean.
Anyway, Devilia had her own way of cooking up a storm, as was demonstrated in the following recipe for Spaghetti Horrornese Sauce. Was this the mysterious spag bol I spoke about in my sleep?
Vegetarian mince (this is the horror part! For something less terrifying, add a mixture of minced beef and pork)
1 onion, chopped
3 crushed garlic cloves
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tin crushed tomatoes
1 tablespoon tomato puree
1 teaspoon oregano
1 tablespoon honey
1 teaspoon paprika
1/2 cup red wine
1/2 cup water
1/2 tablespoon Worcestershire Sauce
1 tablespoon sweet chilli sauce
Salt and pepper to taste
Heat oil in a pan and fry onion and garlic until soft. Add vege mince (or the real stuff) and heat until brown. Pour in red wine and simmer for five minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the remaining ingredients and simmer for an hour. If sauce gets too thick, add some water as required.
Consume with fresh pasta and enjoy!
Tuesday 5 August 2008
Guest blogger coming soon...
"Hehe hehe..."
I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of light chuckling and rolled over to see that Charlotte was giggling in her sleep.
Now, dream mumblings are commonplace with Charlotte, and what's particularly amusing is that she actually responds if I talk to her. "I know what I've forgotten," she once exclaimed at me in the wee hours of the morning. "What?" I enquired sleepily. "The bed knife and fork," she informed me, clearly distressed that this specialist cutlery had slipped her mind. On another occasion I was rudely awoken to be informed that "the witch is on the laundry basket". As you can imagine, I slept much better knowing that.
Anyway, last night I asked her,"what's so funny?"
She continued to laugh, a big grin on her face.
I gave her a prod. "What are you laughing at?"
Obviously whatever it was continued to amuse her, but a small amount of further persistance finally produced the answer.
"It's the hag and the spag bol," she said, chuckling away, before telling me to let her sleep.
Of course, come morning she'd no recollection of any of this, but it's given me an idea. Watch this space because very soon a guest blogger will be making an appearance with her first post.
I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of light chuckling and rolled over to see that Charlotte was giggling in her sleep.
Now, dream mumblings are commonplace with Charlotte, and what's particularly amusing is that she actually responds if I talk to her. "I know what I've forgotten," she once exclaimed at me in the wee hours of the morning. "What?" I enquired sleepily. "The bed knife and fork," she informed me, clearly distressed that this specialist cutlery had slipped her mind. On another occasion I was rudely awoken to be informed that "the witch is on the laundry basket". As you can imagine, I slept much better knowing that.
Anyway, last night I asked her,"what's so funny?"
She continued to laugh, a big grin on her face.
I gave her a prod. "What are you laughing at?"
Obviously whatever it was continued to amuse her, but a small amount of further persistance finally produced the answer.
"It's the hag and the spag bol," she said, chuckling away, before telling me to let her sleep.
Of course, come morning she'd no recollection of any of this, but it's given me an idea. Watch this space because very soon a guest blogger will be making an appearance with her first post.
Saturday 2 August 2008
Dolly Dinners: I Will Forever Hate Rosé
This really has been the week from hell, which is why I've decided to resurrect our Dolly Dinners. Dolly always makes me smile, even when she sings sad songs.
I Will Forever Hate Roses is one of the tracks from Dolly's latest album, Backwoods Barbie, while I Will Forever Hate Rosé is one of the phrases from mine and Charlotte's latest conversations, following the backyard barbie we went to on Sunday.
It all started with the washing machine. It had a funny turn on Sunday morning and after a good hour of twiddling its knobs, we were forced to give up and switch it off in order to get to our friends' place in time for an afternoon of al fresco eating and merriment in the sun. However, if something's broken and needs fixing, it does tend to occupy my thoughts, and perhaps this is largely the reason why the first glass of wine I was given was consumed so quickly - to try and block out all thoughts of our unresolved laundry problems.
If it had been red wine or white wine, things wouldn't have turned out as they did, I'm sure of it. I know my boundaries with those beverages, but the problem with rosé is that it looks so innocent - that delicate blushing hue, it's so bloody deceptive. It's not innnocent at all. Our friends laid on a fantastic, delicious and perfectly cooked spread of barbequed meats and colourful, tasty salads - some had chopped appple and pear in, which I thought worked really well with the meat. The conversation flowed. The afternoon was immensely enjoyable, until I stopped counting the number of glasses I'd consumed. It was quite bizarre that everyone turned up with bottles rosé, us included.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, Charlotte ended up with her head down the toilet and I, slightly less inebriated, managed to walk her home, only to drunkenly slip as I closed the sliding doors of our double wardrobe, so that my hand ended up taking the brunt of the heavy oncoming wood panel. The following morning saw me down the hospital and my hand was in a sling for two days subsequently.
In addition to these disasters, it turns out that the washing machine can't be mended until next week, which means that we're going to have to handwash our smalls - not an easy task with only one working hand. And, completely unconnected (although I'm sure the curse of the rosé is responsible), our phoneline has been severed by the builders outside and I've woken up with a sore throat this morning.
This is why I will forever hate rosé.
I Will Forever Hate Roses is one of the tracks from Dolly's latest album, Backwoods Barbie, while I Will Forever Hate Rosé is one of the phrases from mine and Charlotte's latest conversations, following the backyard barbie we went to on Sunday.
It all started with the washing machine. It had a funny turn on Sunday morning and after a good hour of twiddling its knobs, we were forced to give up and switch it off in order to get to our friends' place in time for an afternoon of al fresco eating and merriment in the sun. However, if something's broken and needs fixing, it does tend to occupy my thoughts, and perhaps this is largely the reason why the first glass of wine I was given was consumed so quickly - to try and block out all thoughts of our unresolved laundry problems.
If it had been red wine or white wine, things wouldn't have turned out as they did, I'm sure of it. I know my boundaries with those beverages, but the problem with rosé is that it looks so innocent - that delicate blushing hue, it's so bloody deceptive. It's not innnocent at all. Our friends laid on a fantastic, delicious and perfectly cooked spread of barbequed meats and colourful, tasty salads - some had chopped appple and pear in, which I thought worked really well with the meat. The conversation flowed. The afternoon was immensely enjoyable, until I stopped counting the number of glasses I'd consumed. It was quite bizarre that everyone turned up with bottles rosé, us included.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, Charlotte ended up with her head down the toilet and I, slightly less inebriated, managed to walk her home, only to drunkenly slip as I closed the sliding doors of our double wardrobe, so that my hand ended up taking the brunt of the heavy oncoming wood panel. The following morning saw me down the hospital and my hand was in a sling for two days subsequently.
In addition to these disasters, it turns out that the washing machine can't be mended until next week, which means that we're going to have to handwash our smalls - not an easy task with only one working hand. And, completely unconnected (although I'm sure the curse of the rosé is responsible), our phoneline has been severed by the builders outside and I've woken up with a sore throat this morning.
This is why I will forever hate rosé.
Tuesday 29 July 2008
If you fancy a quickie...
Carry on at your Convenience
Chloe Moore: Come on Fred, I'll get you something to eat.
Fred Moore: I could do with a bit.
Sid: Spoken like a true man!
Convenience food, what do you make of it? Not that any of us can afford it at the moment with the credit crunch (aren't you getting really sick of hearing that term now? It's everywhere.)
My personal favourite convenience food is a Chinese takeaway. However, that has to be a solitary indulgence seeing that Beth doesn't particularly care for it. Although I always find that I order far too much as piggy's eyes are far bigger than her stomach!
I tend to over indulge on the appetisers and so hence find the main event a bit of a let down. Just let me loose on ordering crispy Peking duck with pancakes, seaweed, capital spare ribs, sesame prawn toasts etc and I go quite doo lally!
Though I am quite partial to a pizza as well. But, it must have a thin crust and plenty of pepperoni. The best one I've had was in New York at John's Pizzeria in Greenwich Village. Lots of spicy Italian sausage to tickle my taste buds (and that's not a phrase you often hear a gay girl say!)
Chloe Moore: Come on Fred, I'll get you something to eat.
Fred Moore: I could do with a bit.
Sid: Spoken like a true man!
Convenience food, what do you make of it? Not that any of us can afford it at the moment with the credit crunch (aren't you getting really sick of hearing that term now? It's everywhere.)
My personal favourite convenience food is a Chinese takeaway. However, that has to be a solitary indulgence seeing that Beth doesn't particularly care for it. Although I always find that I order far too much as piggy's eyes are far bigger than her stomach!
I tend to over indulge on the appetisers and so hence find the main event a bit of a let down. Just let me loose on ordering crispy Peking duck with pancakes, seaweed, capital spare ribs, sesame prawn toasts etc and I go quite doo lally!
Though I am quite partial to a pizza as well. But, it must have a thin crust and plenty of pepperoni. The best one I've had was in New York at John's Pizzeria in Greenwich Village. Lots of spicy Italian sausage to tickle my taste buds (and that's not a phrase you often hear a gay girl say!)
What? No crumpet?
Carry on Behind:
Prof. Roland Crump: We can't share a caravan.
Prof. Anna Vrooshka: You thinking you getting crumpet, no?
Prof. Roland Crump: Certainly not, where on earth did you learn that expression?
Prof. Anna Vrooshka: Crumpet, is to squash it, it is in dictionary, crumpet is to squash it together.
Prof. Roland Crump: Oh! You mean cramped.
Prof. Anna Vrooshka: It's what I say crumpet.
Prof. Roland Crump: Crumpet, crumbit, crampit, well I'm not staying round here much longer, I'm going to the pub to see if they have rooms there.
Prof. Anna Vrooshka: Maybe you're getting crumpet in pub also?
##
Our friends had a party last Saturday to celebrate their seventh anniversary. It was a lovely event: well planned out with a delightful theme....but there was no crumpet!
You thought we were talking about tasty totty didn't you? Well, you'd be wrong. This was a very civilised afternoon tea dance with finger food (and we mean actual food!) - e.g. fairy cakes, cucumber sandwiches, rock cakes, Tunnocks tea cakes (with lovely gooey insides), tinned salmon sandwiches and lots and lots of tea. However, there was a lack of that other delicacy associated with English afternoon tea, i.e. the crumpet. But there was so much of all the other treats that perhaps it really didn't matter.
We love it with lashings of melting salted butter and jam, ideally strawberry. How do you like it (we're still talking about crumpet by the way)?
Prof. Roland Crump: We can't share a caravan.
Prof. Anna Vrooshka: You thinking you getting crumpet, no?
Prof. Roland Crump: Certainly not, where on earth did you learn that expression?
Prof. Anna Vrooshka: Crumpet, is to squash it, it is in dictionary, crumpet is to squash it together.
Prof. Roland Crump: Oh! You mean cramped.
Prof. Anna Vrooshka: It's what I say crumpet.
Prof. Roland Crump: Crumpet, crumbit, crampit, well I'm not staying round here much longer, I'm going to the pub to see if they have rooms there.
Prof. Anna Vrooshka: Maybe you're getting crumpet in pub also?
##
Our friends had a party last Saturday to celebrate their seventh anniversary. It was a lovely event: well planned out with a delightful theme....but there was no crumpet!
You thought we were talking about tasty totty didn't you? Well, you'd be wrong. This was a very civilised afternoon tea dance with finger food (and we mean actual food!) - e.g. fairy cakes, cucumber sandwiches, rock cakes, Tunnocks tea cakes (with lovely gooey insides), tinned salmon sandwiches and lots and lots of tea. However, there was a lack of that other delicacy associated with English afternoon tea, i.e. the crumpet. But there was so much of all the other treats that perhaps it really didn't matter.
We love it with lashings of melting salted butter and jam, ideally strawberry. How do you like it (we're still talking about crumpet by the way)?
Friday 25 July 2008
Seneca is well known throughout Rome as a truly great Sage
Seneca: "Yes…..and I know my onions!" (Carry on Cleo)
We have loads of sage growing in our garden. I only cut my bush back a few weeks ago. It's amazing how quickly it grows during the summer! The mad thing is that we Brits don't tend to eat much sage at this time of year. Casseroles, sage and onion stuffing, these are all winter foods, so what do I do with the abundance of this herb? I asked the sage of the kitchen (Charlotte) but this evening she's too busy drinking champagne and listening to Abba to impart her wisdom, so the question remains unanswered for now...
We have loads of sage growing in our garden. I only cut my bush back a few weeks ago. It's amazing how quickly it grows during the summer! The mad thing is that we Brits don't tend to eat much sage at this time of year. Casseroles, sage and onion stuffing, these are all winter foods, so what do I do with the abundance of this herb? I asked the sage of the kitchen (Charlotte) but this evening she's too busy drinking champagne and listening to Abba to impart her wisdom, so the question remains unanswered for now...
Thursday 24 July 2008
Stop Messing About
Eton Mess is basically what happens to a Pavlova once I have it in front of me. So, I think unless you're going to present this decadent dessert with a bit of comedy thrown in, as we have in the picture further down this page, then why bother wasting the time to balance your meringue nest on top of the carefully sculpted fruit and cream base - just mess it all up.
It couldn't be easier - fruit, cream and meringue nests mixed together and dolloped into a Martini glass. There's nothing to it and it's delicious.
I don't know what feels naughtier - eating Eton Mess or watching Nigella preparing it...
Wednesday 23 July 2008
Carry On Capers
People, it seems, either love of hate them. I'm talking about capers, not Carry On films, although the marmite rule probably applies there too.
Charlotte loves them and there's always a jar in the fridge, but I'm more fussy. I personally dislike their flavour if it's not balanced out with strong meats or cheeses. It's too sharp, or 'tart', as my Nana used to say.
Charlotte once made me a toasted bagel with cream cheese, topped with gherkins and capers for breakfast. It was the only meal she's ever made that I can remember feeling disappointed by. It was a rather jarring sensation to wake up to such an acidic taste. But what do you do in that situation, when your loved one has gone to the trouble of preparing something for you and it's not quite hit the right spot?
Carry on Eating that's what, and since UKTV Gold are currently promoting their Carry On extravaganza this weekend, I've been inspired to make Carry on Eating the theme of my blog posts over the next few days, so brace yourself for the double entendres.
In the meantime, I'd love to hear about your own Carry On Eating experiences. Fly in your soup, hair in your salad or just something you've been served up that you simply can't stand - have you ever forced something down just to be polite?
Now, you can't say I didn't warn you about the double entendres.
Monday 21 July 2008
MOOD FOOD: Solidarity Salsa
The mouthy blonde that works near my desk had been telling her colleagues about her weekend this morning and had just informed them that one of her female friends had voiced a preference for women rather than men.
"You'd better be careful you don't find yourself alone with her," the frumpy brunette on the end of the row commented loudly, "she might make a move on you!
Now, maybe I've been lucky in my life so far as I've never witnessed a comment like this first hand. I know enough people who have though. It's up there in the top ten lesbian -directed insults, along with "what do you do in bed?" and "but you don't look like a lesbian." Perhaps it was because it was a Monday morning, or perhaps it was because I was working pretty much on my own today with no close colleagues to talk to, but that comment hit me hard. It's funny what your mind does in these situations - it rages, it races, it plays out revenge scenarios or dreams up bitingly witty retorts, but rarely does it tell you to actually stand up and confront the person with the insults head on. No, I just sat there quietly fuming, feeling increasingly isolated in a workplace full of heterosexuals and that's when I found myself standing on a precipice, thinking about heading to the work cafe to fill my emotional void by filling my stomach. You know what I'm talking about - comfort eating.
What a dark tale this is turning out to be eh? Don't worry, I turned it around - it has a happy ending.
So there I was standing at the coffee bar, faced with an assortment of biscuits, brownies, flapjacks and scones, and maybe it was the strains of Abba's The Winner Takes it All coming from the cafe radio, or the sight of a gay business card in my purse, but in that moment I saw the light. That ignorant girl this morning hadn't been talking about me when she'd said her hurtful words, yet I'd felt it as though she had been - how's that for solidarity? Far from being isolated, does this not show that we gays and lesbians feel for each other, look out for each other, and identify with each other, even if we've never met? I would say so.
I'm so glad that I didn't end up shoving some sweet and stodgy cake down my throat earlier - I'd have only ended up feeling sick for the rest of the day. Instead, I'm now very peckish and hoping to persuade Charlotte to make some of her delicious hot and fiery salsa as a pre-dinner snack this evening. Hopefully the heat in the sauce will spur us on to get just a little bit heated as we discuss this topic, but that's great. What healthier antidote is there to office homophobia than sharing a tasty morsel with your loved one, while putting the world to rights.
Sunday 20 July 2008
A little bit of spice
How wonderful is curry? I just love, love, love it. It's one of my favourite meals to have out, especially in a social context with lots of friends.
There is nowt better that a group of friends chewing the fat over a heaving table of naans, pilau rice, steaming curries, dahl and Asian larger, as we did with our neighbour last Saturday.
We started the evening off with cocktails in our local posh brasserie, Joanna's. It's a great place to eat as well and their cocktails are sublime. Proper stuff, not all this nonsense with masses of fruit juice, which dilutes the alcohol. We opted for classic and simple - a mint julep, cosmopolitan and mojito.
And then for curry. Everyone has a local curry house they recommend, don't they? Our favourite local place is the Gurkha Cottage, which is actually Nepalese. We always order the same as well. Gurkha chicken, which is a variation on butter chicken, mixed kebab starter, momo balls, rice and sometimes a naan, plus lots of Gurkha beer. As our neighbour is vegan, we ventured into new territory and tried a few select veggie dishes, which were divine.
It's cheap, cheerful and you get a free sherry at the end. It's just the walk back on an incredibly full stomach that's the bugger!
There is nowt better that a group of friends chewing the fat over a heaving table of naans, pilau rice, steaming curries, dahl and Asian larger, as we did with our neighbour last Saturday.
We started the evening off with cocktails in our local posh brasserie, Joanna's. It's a great place to eat as well and their cocktails are sublime. Proper stuff, not all this nonsense with masses of fruit juice, which dilutes the alcohol. We opted for classic and simple - a mint julep, cosmopolitan and mojito.
And then for curry. Everyone has a local curry house they recommend, don't they? Our favourite local place is the Gurkha Cottage, which is actually Nepalese. We always order the same as well. Gurkha chicken, which is a variation on butter chicken, mixed kebab starter, momo balls, rice and sometimes a naan, plus lots of Gurkha beer. As our neighbour is vegan, we ventured into new territory and tried a few select veggie dishes, which were divine.
It's cheap, cheerful and you get a free sherry at the end. It's just the walk back on an incredibly full stomach that's the bugger!
Thursday 17 July 2008
Girl on Grill Action
I love a good barbecue. I jump at any opportunity to start creating inventive marinades or rubs, slathering them on fine cuts of meat and then whacking them on the grill. The smell of of the meat and sauce marrying together over hot coals gives me an immense sense of pleasure.
Am I the only person who gets excited perusing the vast array of barbecue sauces on the market today? There are so many to choose from! My personal favourite is Cattlemen's, which can be purchased in Sainsbury's or Waitrose. I get equally excited about salad dressings. Try Brianna's Rich Poppy Seed, if you can find it.
Of course, barbecues can also go woefully wrong. This can be the case if you use inferior cuts of meat or frozen burgers and sausages. They just lack the depth of flavour that comes with finer cuts, quality ground beef or speciality sausages.
There are a vast array of things you can cook on a grill, and not all meat based. You can make souvlaki, BBQ maple ribs, grilled sweetcorn with butter and chilli flakes, citrus monkfish, halloumi, blue cheese burgers...the list goes on.
One of my finest memories involves a barbecue. Beth, our friends and I had just arrived at the Moonshine Cabin in the Great Smoky Mountains at the start of our holiday to Dollywood and Nashville. As a pinky orange sun was setting over the horizon, we cracked open some ice cold bottles of local beer, got the hot tub going and struck up the grill. We ate our charcol grilled steaks with salad whilst the eagles flew in the distance and Johnny Cash played on the stereo. Can it get any better?
Am I the only person who gets excited perusing the vast array of barbecue sauces on the market today? There are so many to choose from! My personal favourite is Cattlemen's, which can be purchased in Sainsbury's or Waitrose. I get equally excited about salad dressings. Try Brianna's Rich Poppy Seed, if you can find it.
Of course, barbecues can also go woefully wrong. This can be the case if you use inferior cuts of meat or frozen burgers and sausages. They just lack the depth of flavour that comes with finer cuts, quality ground beef or speciality sausages.
There are a vast array of things you can cook on a grill, and not all meat based. You can make souvlaki, BBQ maple ribs, grilled sweetcorn with butter and chilli flakes, citrus monkfish, halloumi, blue cheese burgers...the list goes on.
One of my finest memories involves a barbecue. Beth, our friends and I had just arrived at the Moonshine Cabin in the Great Smoky Mountains at the start of our holiday to Dollywood and Nashville. As a pinky orange sun was setting over the horizon, we cracked open some ice cold bottles of local beer, got the hot tub going and struck up the grill. We ate our charcol grilled steaks with salad whilst the eagles flew in the distance and Johnny Cash played on the stereo. Can it get any better?
Monday 14 July 2008
Something Fishy
Can you recall the last time you had a meal that was so brazen in its simplicity but somehow managed to capture your epicurean senses in a way that far exceeds a five course gastronomic feast? We recently had the pleasure of experiencing this sensation at the Sole Bay Fish Company in Southwold Harbour, Suffolk.
The setting was rustic. A wooden fishmonger's hut with a wet fish bar, mismatched tables and chairs, checked table cloths and a distinct smell of the sea. The dish was equally uncomplicated. Just a large platter piled high with crab, lobster, whelks, cockles, crevettes, mussels and crayfish. Prior to this we consumed some Colchester native oysters with a few drops of Tabasco, and malt vinegar.
This fishy feast was accompanied by a bottle of sparkling Chardonnay and some crusty brown bread. Both of which were brought on to the premises by ourselves as recommended by the establishment. They provide the glasses, you provide the vino.
I've heard an equally rustic culinary experience can be had closer to London at the Company Shed in West Mersea, Essex. So, get yourself down there...there is definitely something fishy going on!
The setting was rustic. A wooden fishmonger's hut with a wet fish bar, mismatched tables and chairs, checked table cloths and a distinct smell of the sea. The dish was equally uncomplicated. Just a large platter piled high with crab, lobster, whelks, cockles, crevettes, mussels and crayfish. Prior to this we consumed some Colchester native oysters with a few drops of Tabasco, and malt vinegar.
This fishy feast was accompanied by a bottle of sparkling Chardonnay and some crusty brown bread. Both of which were brought on to the premises by ourselves as recommended by the establishment. They provide the glasses, you provide the vino.
I've heard an equally rustic culinary experience can be had closer to London at the Company Shed in West Mersea, Essex. So, get yourself down there...there is definitely something fishy going on!
Friday 11 July 2008
A Broad Appeal
The Norfolk Broads can be very appealing, especially on a sunny day after cycling 10 miles with the promise of an ice cold beer and rustic food in a riverbank hostelry awaiting you.
Well, that's what we had in mind when we approached the Reedham Ferry Inn. However, the truth was that we ended up in a very common trap. This was a place brazenly serving mediocre food in the knowledge that their transient tourist clientele are unlikely ever to complain or return(think theatreland restaurants in London).
There I was faced with a beef salad on iceberg lettuce, when the menu clearly stated char grilled steak salad on rocket. But what can you do when you are literally trapped as you have to take a small ferry boat to get to it? Do I take it back and risk having a nice dribble of spit in the dressing? My therapy was to cut my losses and then bitch it off on all available internet forums promoting the Broads.
Not only that, we got charged £4 to take our bikes over on the ferry, but those pedestrians who parked their very environmentally unfriendly cars on the other side got to go free!
We did, however, make up for it in the evening. We were taken for a meal at the Lavender House just outside Norwich. Here the food is lovingly prepared with panache, style and extreme enthusiasm. Amongst other things, we dined on crab cocktail with sweetcorn ice cream and cucumber jelly, fillet and shin of beef with smoked mashed potatoes, iced peanut butter parfait with banana marshmallow and the most delectable after dinner chocolates, especially the caramels with sea salt.
Alongside the main courses you also get pre-courses, such an amuse bouche of shellfish consume and a pre-dessert of butternut squash mousse topped with maple syrup and a coconut creme. Now this was a place worth travelling to, a place where they value the customers and food alike.
Well, that's what we had in mind when we approached the Reedham Ferry Inn. However, the truth was that we ended up in a very common trap. This was a place brazenly serving mediocre food in the knowledge that their transient tourist clientele are unlikely ever to complain or return(think theatreland restaurants in London).
There I was faced with a beef salad on iceberg lettuce, when the menu clearly stated char grilled steak salad on rocket. But what can you do when you are literally trapped as you have to take a small ferry boat to get to it? Do I take it back and risk having a nice dribble of spit in the dressing? My therapy was to cut my losses and then bitch it off on all available internet forums promoting the Broads.
Not only that, we got charged £4 to take our bikes over on the ferry, but those pedestrians who parked their very environmentally unfriendly cars on the other side got to go free!
We did, however, make up for it in the evening. We were taken for a meal at the Lavender House just outside Norwich. Here the food is lovingly prepared with panache, style and extreme enthusiasm. Amongst other things, we dined on crab cocktail with sweetcorn ice cream and cucumber jelly, fillet and shin of beef with smoked mashed potatoes, iced peanut butter parfait with banana marshmallow and the most delectable after dinner chocolates, especially the caramels with sea salt.
Alongside the main courses you also get pre-courses, such an amuse bouche of shellfish consume and a pre-dessert of butternut squash mousse topped with maple syrup and a coconut creme. Now this was a place worth travelling to, a place where they value the customers and food alike.
Tuesday 8 July 2008
Gimme, gimme, gimme...
...some Spam after midnight! Today we shall be marvelling at the comforting qualities of the naughty but nice Spam Fritters we ate last night as well looking forward to seeing Mamma Mia! later on this week.
On a comfort food note, we were pleased to hear about your own comfort faves and also interested to see that no one has specified a sweet treat as their perfect nurturing nosh. It seems chocolate addicts are not as common as we thought.
Anyway, back to the spam fritters. For those of you that may remember these from your childhood school dinners, Spam Fritters consist of a slice of spam, coated in a batter and deep fried. Healthy? No. Tasty? You betcha. Top your fritter with a little balsamic vinegar and ketchup (not Heinz) and consume. A sort of mix of retro chav and foodie finesse.
On the Abba note, do you like what we cooked up for the title of this post? What others can you think of?
Chicken pizza
Voulez-vent
I have ice cream
On a comfort food note, we were pleased to hear about your own comfort faves and also interested to see that no one has specified a sweet treat as their perfect nurturing nosh. It seems chocolate addicts are not as common as we thought.
Anyway, back to the spam fritters. For those of you that may remember these from your childhood school dinners, Spam Fritters consist of a slice of spam, coated in a batter and deep fried. Healthy? No. Tasty? You betcha. Top your fritter with a little balsamic vinegar and ketchup (not Heinz) and consume. A sort of mix of retro chav and foodie finesse.
On the Abba note, do you like what we cooked up for the title of this post? What others can you think of?
Chicken pizza
Voulez-vent
I have ice cream
Sunday 6 July 2008
Postparton Depression
As a child, did you ever get that wave of sadness come over you after Christmas day?
This is what it's like today after last night's Dolly Parton concert.
She was fantastic - beautiful, charming, witty and she sang beautifully. In addition to the tracks she performed from her Backwoods Barbie album, she also did the old favourites which had everybody up dancing. A surprising, and moving, choice was Shattered Image. This clever song is a clearly heartfelt plea to the media to think twice about some of the cruel remarks they churn out about her. "Stay out of my closet if your own's full of trash," she says.
This weekend the UK failure of Dolly's Imagination Library (launched in Rotherham last year) is plastered all over the news. It's so sad. Dolly, as the figurehead, is being portrayed as the failure when it should be the businesses and the parents in that Yorkshire town who get the blame for caring enough to get behind the scheme. She did mention the Imagination Library last night and every time she referred to its UK arm, the audience cheered and clapped. Clearly I'm not alone in my admiration of a scheme that encourages youngsters to love the English language.
Anyway, I could ramble on for ages about Dolly. If you've ever seen her perform live I'm sure you know what I mean. Talking to other people last night, it's clear that she has a bewitching quality. Once you've seen her, you're totally hooked on the Dolly drug, which is great, apart from the fact that you get horrible withdrawal symptoms, as I have today.
So I think today comfort food is the answer. What comfort food works best for you? Your suggestions will be very welcome.
Saturday 5 July 2008
Dolly Dinners: Applejack
I still have time to talk about the wonders of Applejack before seeing Dolly in the flesh. You see I hate cider, leaves a nasty aftertaste I find, but Applejack, although also made from apples doesn't taste of them. Some may disagree, but to me, it's more like whisky or bourbon, which incidentally I love - my favourite of all tipples. Tennessee bourbon is best.
Unfortunately the bottle of Applejack we had in our stocks has long gone so there's no chance of me downing a drop in honour of Dolly. It's probably just as well though - I want to be sober for later and it's strong stuff.
Is it on the trolley?
So asked Victoria Wood in her famous sketch. But, who actually remembers the sweet trolley?
I certainly do. Puts me in mind of all the holidays we spent in Trust House Forte hotels in Devon and Cornwall when I was a child. As I recall the menus always looked like this:
Starter
Chilled juice - orange, grapefruit or tomato
Soup of the day
Prawn cocktail
Farmhouse Pate
Egg Mayonnaise (with a little bit of paprika sprinkled on top!)
Main
Steak Diane
Rainbow Trout with almonds
Coq au vin
Rack of lamb (wearing those little fluffy chef's hats at the end of each bone)
Something veggie, but I never remember what it was.
And then the sweet trolley. This is where the meal really came into its own. There were trifles, profiteroles, black forest gateaux, a very sad looking fruit salad and pavlova. Cream was queen and you could finish off with a rather lacklustre cheeseboard.
Even today, my favourite meal consists of prawn cocktail, steak Diane and sherry trifle. Although today I use quality ingredients dahhhhling! What are your retro food memories?
I certainly do. Puts me in mind of all the holidays we spent in Trust House Forte hotels in Devon and Cornwall when I was a child. As I recall the menus always looked like this:
Starter
Chilled juice - orange, grapefruit or tomato
Soup of the day
Prawn cocktail
Farmhouse Pate
Egg Mayonnaise (with a little bit of paprika sprinkled on top!)
Main
Steak Diane
Rainbow Trout with almonds
Coq au vin
Rack of lamb (wearing those little fluffy chef's hats at the end of each bone)
Something veggie, but I never remember what it was.
And then the sweet trolley. This is where the meal really came into its own. There were trifles, profiteroles, black forest gateaux, a very sad looking fruit salad and pavlova. Cream was queen and you could finish off with a rather lacklustre cheeseboard.
Even today, my favourite meal consists of prawn cocktail, steak Diane and sherry trifle. Although today I use quality ingredients dahhhhling! What are your retro food memories?
Friday 4 July 2008
Dolly Dinners: You Choose
We have so many Dolly Dinners up our sleeves, so we're inviting you to choose from our top ten list:
Why D'ya Come in here Cookin' Like That?
Let us know which Dolly Dinners you'd like to hear about. Believe it or not, we have a story for each and every one.
A fool for cheese
Well firstly, yes I am a fool for cheese and secondly, that's the deal I have struck with Beth today. She must buy me cheese from Neal's Yard Dairy on her way home from work and I will make a blueberry fool with our homegrown blueberries and the excess yogurt we have in the fridge.
Now the cheese must be honking! By that I mean its aroma must be incredibly pungent. An Époisses de Bourgogne or Stinking Bishop should do the trick. Am I alone in my adoration of cheese that quite frankly smells like manure? Maybe, but it tastes wonderful.
Here's how to make the fool:
1 cup fresh blueberries
1 tablespoons water
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 pint whipping cream
1/4 pint plain yogurt
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
Place the berries in a medium saucepan and stir in the water and sugar. Cook the mixture over medium heat, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes or until the berries are soft and have released their juices. Remove the pan from the heat and set it aside to cool.
Meanwhile, whisk the cream for about one minute until soft peaks form and then mix in the yogurt and vanilla extract.
Pour the cooled blueberry sauce over the whipped cream/yogurt mix and gently fold the mixture until the blueberries and the cream are well combined. Refrigerate for at least two hours, then spoon the dessert into serving dishes.
Now the cheese must be honking! By that I mean its aroma must be incredibly pungent. An Époisses de Bourgogne or Stinking Bishop should do the trick. Am I alone in my adoration of cheese that quite frankly smells like manure? Maybe, but it tastes wonderful.
Here's how to make the fool:
1 cup fresh blueberries
1 tablespoons water
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 pint whipping cream
1/4 pint plain yogurt
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
Place the berries in a medium saucepan and stir in the water and sugar. Cook the mixture over medium heat, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes or until the berries are soft and have released their juices. Remove the pan from the heat and set it aside to cool.
Meanwhile, whisk the cream for about one minute until soft peaks form and then mix in the yogurt and vanilla extract.
Pour the cooled blueberry sauce over the whipped cream/yogurt mix and gently fold the mixture until the blueberries and the cream are well combined. Refrigerate for at least two hours, then spoon the dessert into serving dishes.
Thursday 3 July 2008
Dolly Dinners: Beth's Cup of Ambition
Every morning during the working week I do jump out of bed, stumble to the kitchen and pour myself a cup. Dolly describes my morning ritual perfectly.
Unless I've got a hangover, my cup of ambition is always coffee - it's one of the few things I have every single day. I'm very particular about it too. You see it has to be black (unless it's the weekend) and it has to be proper coffee (no decaf or instant thank you very much). Am I alone or are others as precious about their morning cup as I am?
Anyway, enough about coffee and on to my ambitions. I have to say that my biggest ambition in life has been to find love and happiness and I'm overjoyed to say that I've certainly achieved that. If I never achieve any of my other ambitions in my lifetime it really doesn't matter.
Nevertheless, there's nothing wrong with having dreams, so here they are (in no particular order):
1) See homophobia wiped out totally throughout the world.
2) Help counteract the ever-plummeting levels of illiteracy that I witness every day. You won't believe how wound up I get when I see a rogue apostrophe, or lack of one. I could really get on my high horse but I'm restraining myself. Does anyone else out there feel as passionately as I do? Get in touch, let's form a vigilante group. If you care its you're duty to do something to help secure the English languages surival. AGGGGHHHHH. I'm going to have a sleepless night now that I've written that sentence. Don't be surprised if it's edited out by the morning.
3) Meet Dolly Parton. She is indeed a goddess, and in addition to all the wonderful songs that she sings and writes, I have so much respect for her because she is actually doing something actively to deal with the concerns I've just ranted about above. See here to find out about her Imagination Library.
4) Finish the book I've been writing for the past three years by the end of this year.
5) Get a hairdresser that will always cut my hair the way I want it. Maybe I should follow Dolly's example and start wearing wigs. She's got sense. There's no chance of a bad hair day then.
What do you reckon, will I achieve any of the above, or should I wake up now and smell the coffee?
Unless I've got a hangover, my cup of ambition is always coffee - it's one of the few things I have every single day. I'm very particular about it too. You see it has to be black (unless it's the weekend) and it has to be proper coffee (no decaf or instant thank you very much). Am I alone or are others as precious about their morning cup as I am?
Anyway, enough about coffee and on to my ambitions. I have to say that my biggest ambition in life has been to find love and happiness and I'm overjoyed to say that I've certainly achieved that. If I never achieve any of my other ambitions in my lifetime it really doesn't matter.
Nevertheless, there's nothing wrong with having dreams, so here they are (in no particular order):
1) See homophobia wiped out totally throughout the world.
2) Help counteract the ever-plummeting levels of illiteracy that I witness every day. You won't believe how wound up I get when I see a rogue apostrophe, or lack of one. I could really get on my high horse but I'm restraining myself. Does anyone else out there feel as passionately as I do? Get in touch, let's form a vigilante group. If you care its you're duty to do something to help secure the English languages surival. AGGGGHHHHH. I'm going to have a sleepless night now that I've written that sentence. Don't be surprised if it's edited out by the morning.
3) Meet Dolly Parton. She is indeed a goddess, and in addition to all the wonderful songs that she sings and writes, I have so much respect for her because she is actually doing something actively to deal with the concerns I've just ranted about above. See here to find out about her Imagination Library.
4) Finish the book I've been writing for the past three years by the end of this year.
5) Get a hairdresser that will always cut my hair the way I want it. Maybe I should follow Dolly's example and start wearing wigs. She's got sense. There's no chance of a bad hair day then.
What do you reckon, will I achieve any of the above, or should I wake up now and smell the coffee?
If you want the rainbow...
Just look outside the window. There is a glorious one over South London right now.
But as Dolly says "if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain". Keep this in mind on Saturday if you're going to Gay Pride. It's a way of remembering those people that put up with a hell of a lot of rain, fighting for equality, so that we, our supporters, family and friends can march with dignity and pride and enjoy a day filled with gay celebration!
But tonight I have to admit that I am feeling a little moody. Is it the rain or the fact that Beth is working late? Who knows? But to break this spell I am going to have a lovely large glass of red wine and make a mood lifting moussaka. The recipe comes from Falling Cloudberries: A World of Family Recipes by Tessa Kiros, which is quite simply my favourite cookbook in the world.
I can then imagine that I am sitting on a tranquil Greek island watching the sun go down whilst I gently sip my wine, which reminds me, the film of Mamma Mia opens next week and I must book tickets. As well as Dolly, I am also a total fool for Abba. How camp and predictable!
But as Dolly says "if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain". Keep this in mind on Saturday if you're going to Gay Pride. It's a way of remembering those people that put up with a hell of a lot of rain, fighting for equality, so that we, our supporters, family and friends can march with dignity and pride and enjoy a day filled with gay celebration!
But tonight I have to admit that I am feeling a little moody. Is it the rain or the fact that Beth is working late? Who knows? But to break this spell I am going to have a lovely large glass of red wine and make a mood lifting moussaka. The recipe comes from Falling Cloudberries: A World of Family Recipes by Tessa Kiros, which is quite simply my favourite cookbook in the world.
I can then imagine that I am sitting on a tranquil Greek island watching the sun go down whilst I gently sip my wine, which reminds me, the film of Mamma Mia opens next week and I must book tickets. As well as Dolly, I am also a total fool for Abba. How camp and predictable!
Sticky fingers
Here's the recipe for those glazed maple ribs.
Ingredients
2 1/2 lbs pork spareribs
6 fluid ounces maple syrup
2 tablespoons brown sugar
2 tablespoons ketchup (not Heinz...we don't like them and are boycotting all products after pulling their "gay deli" ad after a mere 200 complaints from homophobic bigots!)
1 tablespoon cider vinegar
1 tablespoon Worcestershire Sauce
Salt
2 teaspoons mustard (Swedish or German style is best)
A glug of Bourbon (Jack Daniels or Jim Beam)
Place ribs in a large saucepan, cover with water and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat, cover and simmer for one hour. Drain and place in a shallow dish. In a small saucepan, combine the maple syrup, brown sugar, ketchup, vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, salt, mustard and Bourbon.
Bring to a boil, stirring, and then remove from the heat and pour over the ribs. Toss the ribs to coat well, cover and marinate in the refrigerator for at least two hours. Transfer ribs to a pre-heated oven and cook for about 20 minutes, or until tender and glazed. Serve hot.
Ingredients
2 1/2 lbs pork spareribs
6 fluid ounces maple syrup
2 tablespoons brown sugar
2 tablespoons ketchup (not Heinz...we don't like them and are boycotting all products after pulling their "gay deli" ad after a mere 200 complaints from homophobic bigots!)
1 tablespoon cider vinegar
1 tablespoon Worcestershire Sauce
Salt
2 teaspoons mustard (Swedish or German style is best)
A glug of Bourbon (Jack Daniels or Jim Beam)
Place ribs in a large saucepan, cover with water and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat, cover and simmer for one hour. Drain and place in a shallow dish. In a small saucepan, combine the maple syrup, brown sugar, ketchup, vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, salt, mustard and Bourbon.
Bring to a boil, stirring, and then remove from the heat and pour over the ribs. Toss the ribs to coat well, cover and marinate in the refrigerator for at least two hours. Transfer ribs to a pre-heated oven and cook for about 20 minutes, or until tender and glazed. Serve hot.
Wednesday 2 July 2008
Dolly Dinners: Charred Candy Crispness
(Hard Candy Christmas from The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas)
I had some delicious glazed ribs this evening. If it had been yesterday (very hot and very sunny) maybe we'd have cooked them outside in the garden and eaten al fresco with the birds and the trees out back as dining companions. However, today is a rainy old day so no chance of a backwoods barbie (please feel free to groan at my very laboured attempt to weave in the name of Dolly's latest album and accompanying tour...did we mention we were going to see her on Saturday?)
Anyway, the ribs. Juicy, sweet and salty deliciousness combined with a slight crispness round the edges. Charlotte has promised to reveal her secret recipe for these shortly, so come back soon.
I had some delicious glazed ribs this evening. If it had been yesterday (very hot and very sunny) maybe we'd have cooked them outside in the garden and eaten al fresco with the birds and the trees out back as dining companions. However, today is a rainy old day so no chance of a backwoods barbie (please feel free to groan at my very laboured attempt to weave in the name of Dolly's latest album and accompanying tour...did we mention we were going to see her on Saturday?)
Anyway, the ribs. Juicy, sweet and salty deliciousness combined with a slight crispness round the edges. Charlotte has promised to reveal her secret recipe for these shortly, so come back soon.
A little bit of what you fancy does you good
I watched a dramatisation of the life of East End lass Marie Lloyd last night. Marie Lloyd, if you don't know, was one of the greatest English music hall singers of the Victorian and Edwardian eras, whose songs were rife with double entendre, e.g. "she'd never had her ticket punched before" wink, wink!
As one of her most famous songs states "a little bit of fancy does you good", a view that I hold very true to my heart, certainly when it comes to food. And, if the recent Victorian episode of the excellent The Supersizers Go... (featuring our superb Sapphic sister Sue Perkins and honorary heterosexual hottie, Giles Coran) was anything to go by, then those Victorians certainly had a lot of what they fancied. To find out more about the era, read Tipping the Velvet, it's fabulous and
adds another dimension to eating oysters!
So I thought I would share my very fanciable recipe for roast potatoes with you, guaranteed to make you fancy more that just a little bit.
Heat up some goose or duck fat in a roasting tin in a pre-heated oven. Cut some King Edward or Heritage potatoes three ways (so each potato has three edges) and then par-boil for five minutes in hot salted water. Drain and then add a little cornmeal or dried polenta to the saucepan (1 teaspoon) along with salt and pepper and some rosemary and then shake the pan as so to loosen the edges of the potatoes. Place the potatoes one by one in the hot fat, making sure there is good space between each of them and cook for 30 - 35 minutes.
Your tatties should come out crisp and golden on the outside and delectably fluffy on the inside. Fancy that?
On another note and another era, check out the Supersizers Go Seventies. A time when we worshipped at the altar of Angel Delight and had an uncharacteristic, but definite fear of Fanny (Fanny Cradock that is)!
As one of her most famous songs states "a little bit of fancy does you good", a view that I hold very true to my heart, certainly when it comes to food. And, if the recent Victorian episode of the excellent The Supersizers Go... (featuring our superb Sapphic sister Sue Perkins and honorary heterosexual hottie, Giles Coran) was anything to go by, then those Victorians certainly had a lot of what they fancied. To find out more about the era, read Tipping the Velvet, it's fabulous and
adds another dimension to eating oysters!
So I thought I would share my very fanciable recipe for roast potatoes with you, guaranteed to make you fancy more that just a little bit.
Heat up some goose or duck fat in a roasting tin in a pre-heated oven. Cut some King Edward or Heritage potatoes three ways (so each potato has three edges) and then par-boil for five minutes in hot salted water. Drain and then add a little cornmeal or dried polenta to the saucepan (1 teaspoon) along with salt and pepper and some rosemary and then shake the pan as so to loosen the edges of the potatoes. Place the potatoes one by one in the hot fat, making sure there is good space between each of them and cook for 30 - 35 minutes.
Your tatties should come out crisp and golden on the outside and delectably fluffy on the inside. Fancy that?
On another note and another era, check out the Supersizers Go Seventies. A time when we worshipped at the altar of Angel Delight and had an uncharacteristic, but definite fear of Fanny (Fanny Cradock that is)!
Dolly Dinners: A cup of ambition
Nine to five
Now I'm not stuck in the rigours of a nine to five routine, my ambition for today was to take myself into town, sample some more culinary delights and spend some time at Mediatheque on the Southbank. Here you can view the BFI's film archives for free and it's great place to spend some spare time, as the archive has over 1000 titles right at your fingertips, including such gems as Abigail's Party, the Wicker Man (original version naturally) and a whole host of gay films and TV programmes.
However, my plans have been thrown into disarray as I have pulled what seems like a nerve in my back, and so am housebound. So, I will throw my energy into consuming the tasty breakfast muffins I made the other day, along with my cup of ambition (pictured) and catching up on viewing my DVD collection.
Speaking of ambition, what are yours? Here's just a few of mine:
1. To take a road trip from Santa Fe to San Francisco, taking in the Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, LA and Highway 1 on the way - My ambition was further quenched by the advertising launch we attended the other day, hosted by Amro Holidays, the gay owned travel company. They've launched a new US campaign on the tube network, specifically at Leicester Sq and Covent Garden stations. Take a look the next time you go up the escalator and maybe do a bit of cruising to see who else is checking it out! We will do the trip in time...just need to stock up on Valium to cope with the flights!
2. Wipe out homophobia - we live in hope, but doesn't it seem to be getting worse?
3. Run my own deli or become a food writer - a long term ambition, but it would be great. All that fine food and being able to talk about it as my job.
4. Write a book - either something set in the Studio 54 days or a wartime lesbian love story.
5. Meet Dolly Parton - What else can I say....she is a goddess!
Now I'm not stuck in the rigours of a nine to five routine, my ambition for today was to take myself into town, sample some more culinary delights and spend some time at Mediatheque on the Southbank. Here you can view the BFI's film archives for free and it's great place to spend some spare time, as the archive has over 1000 titles right at your fingertips, including such gems as Abigail's Party, the Wicker Man (original version naturally) and a whole host of gay films and TV programmes.
However, my plans have been thrown into disarray as I have pulled what seems like a nerve in my back, and so am housebound. So, I will throw my energy into consuming the tasty breakfast muffins I made the other day, along with my cup of ambition (pictured) and catching up on viewing my DVD collection.
Speaking of ambition, what are yours? Here's just a few of mine:
1. To take a road trip from Santa Fe to San Francisco, taking in the Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, LA and Highway 1 on the way - My ambition was further quenched by the advertising launch we attended the other day, hosted by Amro Holidays, the gay owned travel company. They've launched a new US campaign on the tube network, specifically at Leicester Sq and Covent Garden stations. Take a look the next time you go up the escalator and maybe do a bit of cruising to see who else is checking it out! We will do the trip in time...just need to stock up on Valium to cope with the flights!
2. Wipe out homophobia - we live in hope, but doesn't it seem to be getting worse?
3. Run my own deli or become a food writer - a long term ambition, but it would be great. All that fine food and being able to talk about it as my job.
4. Write a book - either something set in the Studio 54 days or a wartime lesbian love story.
5. Meet Dolly Parton - What else can I say....she is a goddess!
Tuesday 1 July 2008
Dolly Dinners: Touch Your Woman Tuna Sandwich
Touch Your Woman, Dolly Parton
We had a delicious lunch last Sunday after our Sainsbury's shopping spree, which involved making a very special tuna sandwich.
Take two slices of brown or granary bread. It must be brown or granary, white bread just doesn't cut it with a tuna sandwich, unless it's a toasted tuna melt. Actually, I'm a bit anal about which bread goes with what food, i.e. toast with marmite has to be on white bread, but toast with peanut butter has to be on brown. I'm the same with the container from which I drink my tea. It must be a bone china cup. Mugs are only good for soup and coffee.
Anyway....Take two slices of brown bread and do not butter the bread (another thing I am anal about, butter only suits toast). In a bowl mix one tin of tuna with a little mayo, chopped celery, chopped red pepper, gherkin and spring onion. Bind with a little Tabasco sauce and spread over the bread. Slice down the middle and consume.
It certainly has a little bit of bite and a definite kick, guaranteed to touch your woman's taste buds!
We had a delicious lunch last Sunday after our Sainsbury's shopping spree, which involved making a very special tuna sandwich.
Take two slices of brown or granary bread. It must be brown or granary, white bread just doesn't cut it with a tuna sandwich, unless it's a toasted tuna melt. Actually, I'm a bit anal about which bread goes with what food, i.e. toast with marmite has to be on white bread, but toast with peanut butter has to be on brown. I'm the same with the container from which I drink my tea. It must be a bone china cup. Mugs are only good for soup and coffee.
Anyway....Take two slices of brown bread and do not butter the bread (another thing I am anal about, butter only suits toast). In a bowl mix one tin of tuna with a little mayo, chopped celery, chopped red pepper, gherkin and spring onion. Bind with a little Tabasco sauce and spread over the bread. Slice down the middle and consume.
It certainly has a little bit of bite and a definite kick, guaranteed to touch your woman's taste buds!
Dolly Dinners: Front Porch Punch
My Tennessee Mountain Home, Dolly Parton
Sittin' on the front porch on a summer afternoon...
Chance would be a fine thing. Our front garden is a building site at the moment and since there's a ten foot drop from our front door, we can't enter our home, unless we go round the back.
Hopefully this will explain why we broke our promise to begin talking about our week of Dolly Dinners on Sunday, leaving you with just a couple of pavlova puppies as a teaser. Sometimes, when your home is in upheaval, your life feels that way too, don't you agree? That's why this evening I asked Charlotte to transpose her kitchen creativity onto the TV-stand-cum-drinks-trolley we keep in our dining room and mix me up a cocktail to distract me from the mess outside.
So now I've got a tall glass of red sunset coloured crushed ice. Apparently my drink contains strawberries and mangoes, but I've not been told what spirit. It's rum probably and it's deceptively strong and already doing the trick. I'd better be careful not to enjoy this too much or I might forget and decide to pop out the front door for something later and have a nasty accident.
I look forward to drinking this again when our front porch is finally built and I can sit there on a summer afternoon, imagining that I'm in Dolly's famous song. But do we get junebugs or fireflies in South London?
Sittin' on the front porch on a summer afternoon...
Chance would be a fine thing. Our front garden is a building site at the moment and since there's a ten foot drop from our front door, we can't enter our home, unless we go round the back.
Hopefully this will explain why we broke our promise to begin talking about our week of Dolly Dinners on Sunday, leaving you with just a couple of pavlova puppies as a teaser. Sometimes, when your home is in upheaval, your life feels that way too, don't you agree? That's why this evening I asked Charlotte to transpose her kitchen creativity onto the TV-stand-cum-drinks-trolley we keep in our dining room and mix me up a cocktail to distract me from the mess outside.
So now I've got a tall glass of red sunset coloured crushed ice. Apparently my drink contains strawberries and mangoes, but I've not been told what spirit. It's rum probably and it's deceptively strong and already doing the trick. I'd better be careful not to enjoy this too much or I might forget and decide to pop out the front door for something later and have a nasty accident.
I look forward to drinking this again when our front porch is finally built and I can sit there on a summer afternoon, imagining that I'm in Dolly's famous song. But do we get junebugs or fireflies in South London?
Sunday 29 June 2008
MOOD FOOD: Sleepy summer salad
Anyone who's suffered from insomnia will know that getting through a day at work after a bout of nocturnal turning and tossing is an ordeal, but going out and making conversation with friends at the end of the working day is impossible, no matter how much you love them.
Mattress moulding, blind shutting, duvet tossing, work worrying, surreal thought drifting, cat in kitten heels pacing (must make that vet appointment for the nail clippings) ylang ylang on pillow resorting, my night of sleeplessness couldn't have been any worse. Imagine my delight therefore, when, wilting after a day at work, Charlotte phoned me to say that we weren't going out after all, we were staying in for dinner with some treats from John Lewis Foodhall.
It turned out that going out on a Monday night was not the most appealing prospect for our local friends (I'd be the same) and that Charlotte and her mother were tired after their excursion around town.
So 40 winks after getting home, and another 10 winks for good measure, I sloped downstairs in my pyjamas to see what Charlotte had rustled up. A lidded pan was bubbling on the stove and I was sent out to get some mint from the garden. I was too tired still though to be kitchen detective and numbly I trundled out into the fresh evening air to snip some exhilaratingly fragrant leaves from the plant on the patio.
Returning to the kitchen, I watched the kitchen queen tear some rocket leaves onto a large plate and then open a series of exciting deli pots. Because Charlotte's mum hates both the seeds and skins of cucumber, the slender green vegetable got subjected to some harsh penetration by the apple corer by mum bought me from Lakeland. It worked a treat though and this was then chopped into small chunks, flung into the rocket along with an assortment of other ingredients and within minutes the plate was magically transformed into a pile of treasures, glistening with some mouthwateringly fragrant dressing.It was the perfect antidote to my drowsiness - fresh, fragrant and hydrating, with enough variety of textures to keep me awake just that little while longer. Plump, juicy artichoke hearts, rich sun-dried tomatoes, the occasional caper, goat's cheese crumbles, cucumber chunks, tasty dressing and the perfect accompaniment, minted, buttered new potatoes.
Mattress moulding, blind shutting, duvet tossing, work worrying, surreal thought drifting, cat in kitten heels pacing (must make that vet appointment for the nail clippings) ylang ylang on pillow resorting, my night of sleeplessness couldn't have been any worse. Imagine my delight therefore, when, wilting after a day at work, Charlotte phoned me to say that we weren't going out after all, we were staying in for dinner with some treats from John Lewis Foodhall.
It turned out that going out on a Monday night was not the most appealing prospect for our local friends (I'd be the same) and that Charlotte and her mother were tired after their excursion around town.
So 40 winks after getting home, and another 10 winks for good measure, I sloped downstairs in my pyjamas to see what Charlotte had rustled up. A lidded pan was bubbling on the stove and I was sent out to get some mint from the garden. I was too tired still though to be kitchen detective and numbly I trundled out into the fresh evening air to snip some exhilaratingly fragrant leaves from the plant on the patio.
Returning to the kitchen, I watched the kitchen queen tear some rocket leaves onto a large plate and then open a series of exciting deli pots. Because Charlotte's mum hates both the seeds and skins of cucumber, the slender green vegetable got subjected to some harsh penetration by the apple corer by mum bought me from Lakeland. It worked a treat though and this was then chopped into small chunks, flung into the rocket along with an assortment of other ingredients and within minutes the plate was magically transformed into a pile of treasures, glistening with some mouthwateringly fragrant dressing.It was the perfect antidote to my drowsiness - fresh, fragrant and hydrating, with enough variety of textures to keep me awake just that little while longer. Plump, juicy artichoke hearts, rich sun-dried tomatoes, the occasional caper, goat's cheese crumbles, cucumber chunks, tasty dressing and the perfect accompaniment, minted, buttered new potatoes.
G-Cups and Sauces
I'm currently counting down to Next Saturday, a big day in our calendar.
Because we're two gay girls living in London you'd assume that I'm referring to the annual Gay Pride celebrations, but no. You see, there's one thing (in fact, you could say two things) forgiveably bigger than Gay Pride for us gay girls, and for those gay boys too.
Dolly Parton. Singing her heart out in venues throughout the UK this week, she'll be performing at the O2 at the weekend and we're going to see her on Saturday night. We saw her in concert last March at Wembley and instantly got hooked on the Dolly drug, ravenously consuming her extensive back catalogue, her film repertoire and her autobiography over the subsequent months. In fact, the hunger was so great that it had us heading to Dollywood and Nashville last autumn. Does this make us sound like obsessive fans? I guess it does, and admittedly at times like this week we probably are.
So, to honour our hunger for all things Dolly and mark the countdown to Dolly Day, Charlotte and I will be having a week full of Dolly Dinners. Will it be pink iced buns toped with glace cherries and big round blancmanges or will it be southern-style barbecue sauces and other delectables from the little lady's own cookbook, Dixie Fixin's? Well, you'll have to wait and see. We're off to Sainsburys now and later today will be munching our way through the first delicious Parton Plate.
Because we're two gay girls living in London you'd assume that I'm referring to the annual Gay Pride celebrations, but no. You see, there's one thing (in fact, you could say two things) forgiveably bigger than Gay Pride for us gay girls, and for those gay boys too.
Dolly Parton. Singing her heart out in venues throughout the UK this week, she'll be performing at the O2 at the weekend and we're going to see her on Saturday night. We saw her in concert last March at Wembley and instantly got hooked on the Dolly drug, ravenously consuming her extensive back catalogue, her film repertoire and her autobiography over the subsequent months. In fact, the hunger was so great that it had us heading to Dollywood and Nashville last autumn. Does this make us sound like obsessive fans? I guess it does, and admittedly at times like this week we probably are.
So, to honour our hunger for all things Dolly and mark the countdown to Dolly Day, Charlotte and I will be having a week full of Dolly Dinners. Will it be pink iced buns toped with glace cherries and big round blancmanges or will it be southern-style barbecue sauces and other delectables from the little lady's own cookbook, Dixie Fixin's? Well, you'll have to wait and see. We're off to Sainsburys now and later today will be munching our way through the first delicious Parton Plate.
A culinary landscape
I've been celebrating my new found freedom this week, whilst I take a sabbatical between jobs. This offers the opportunity to take advantage of London's rich culinary landscape by partaking of some of my favourite meals out as well as sampling some new restaurants.
I began the week with one of my personal indulgences, which unfortunately Beth doesn't share - dim sum. I always head for the Imperial China in Lisle Street. It's a traditional place, and not quite as glaringly contemporary and trendy as some recent additions to the area but it suits me none the less. You enter over a little wooden bridge spanning a small pond and then indulge yourself in a heady world of succulent steamed char sui buns and a perfectly crisp Vietnamese spring rolls. To me it's perfection.
The next day, my mum and I headed down to the Horniman Museum in Forest Hill and then decided to have lunch at the Rosendale in West Dulwich, voted London's best gastro pub last year. The lunch menu was sufficiently creative and we feasted on a shared platter of barbecued meat and prawns on skewers. The quality was great and washed down with half a Leffe, it certainly hit the spot.
Later in the week Beth had a day off work, and so we ventured into town again. This time our destination was Ottolenghi in Islington, somewhere I had desperately wanted to visit, so much so that I was willing to haul my cookies into North London for the pleasure! Did it live up to expectations? Well the answer is..I don't know! But one thing is certain, the service is crap. We waited ten minutes to be seated in a half filled restaurant, despite there being an abundance of staff. Our anxious looks were ignored, whilst "supposedly" more trendy and affluent North Londoners' needs were swiftly catered for. Eventually we saw them clearing a small table for us, to then see it being nabbed under our noses by someone already seated at the communal table. No apologies, nothing. Were they aware that we were going to probably spend a nice sum of money, plus splash out for a bottle of lunchtime vino? No idea, but somehow I just think our faces didn't fit.
How did it end? We headed down to the safety of South London. Borough Market to be exact. We feasted on chargrilled burgers in Black and Blue and experienced swift, friendly service throughout. And yes the place was full of suits, but it didn't matter, everyone was treated as an equal. As they say "it's grim up North!"
I began the week with one of my personal indulgences, which unfortunately Beth doesn't share - dim sum. I always head for the Imperial China in Lisle Street. It's a traditional place, and not quite as glaringly contemporary and trendy as some recent additions to the area but it suits me none the less. You enter over a little wooden bridge spanning a small pond and then indulge yourself in a heady world of succulent steamed char sui buns and a perfectly crisp Vietnamese spring rolls. To me it's perfection.
The next day, my mum and I headed down to the Horniman Museum in Forest Hill and then decided to have lunch at the Rosendale in West Dulwich, voted London's best gastro pub last year. The lunch menu was sufficiently creative and we feasted on a shared platter of barbecued meat and prawns on skewers. The quality was great and washed down with half a Leffe, it certainly hit the spot.
Later in the week Beth had a day off work, and so we ventured into town again. This time our destination was Ottolenghi in Islington, somewhere I had desperately wanted to visit, so much so that I was willing to haul my cookies into North London for the pleasure! Did it live up to expectations? Well the answer is..I don't know! But one thing is certain, the service is crap. We waited ten minutes to be seated in a half filled restaurant, despite there being an abundance of staff. Our anxious looks were ignored, whilst "supposedly" more trendy and affluent North Londoners' needs were swiftly catered for. Eventually we saw them clearing a small table for us, to then see it being nabbed under our noses by someone already seated at the communal table. No apologies, nothing. Were they aware that we were going to probably spend a nice sum of money, plus splash out for a bottle of lunchtime vino? No idea, but somehow I just think our faces didn't fit.
How did it end? We headed down to the safety of South London. Borough Market to be exact. We feasted on chargrilled burgers in Black and Blue and experienced swift, friendly service throughout. And yes the place was full of suits, but it didn't matter, everyone was treated as an equal. As they say "it's grim up North!"
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