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!
Monday 25 August 2008
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.
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