As my time at home rapidly approaches an end, I appreciate more than ever quite how scrumptious home cooking can be and, when one is elbow deep in daily tasks and getting things done, how incredible the interruption of a proper, home-cooked lunch can be. The world of working away from home will be a strange thing when I go back to it, I tell you. Sandwiches? Eh, wot? Pret a Manger?!? Nah, guv, not fer me thanks. I've got my hot, straight-from-the-cooker Lamb Pilaff. And that, girls and boys, is what I am going to talk to you about today.
It's going to be a bit of a 'cobbled together' recipe, as is my way - as it was all a bit handful of this, dash of that, etc etc. But 'twas too scrumptious not to share.
Ingredients
1 clove garlic, chopped
1 small onion, diced
1-2 small sticks celery, finely diced
2 cupfuls long-grain rice
1 lamb stock cube
spices: cinnamon, 2-3 cloves
handful each of almonds or cashew nuts, sultanas/raisins, chopped apricots
1/2 small onion, sliced thinly
2-3 handfuls of roughly chopped leftover lamb (from a Sunday lunch)
Method
1. Sweat garlic, onions and celery in a pan with some butter and olive oil, when golden add the rice and stir, covering the rice grains.
2. Crumble in the lamb stock, and add enough water to just cover the rice grains. Stir, and continue to stir until most liquid is absorbed. The rice should be a dark yellow colour (as a result of the lamb stock).
3. Add in the spices, dried fruit and nuts and chopped cooked lamb, stirring in, and allowing most of the remaining liquid to cook off.
4. Serve with chopped parsley scattered.
Really good warming lunch, mmm, making my tum rumble as I write in fact.
Showing posts with label recipe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label recipe. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Untitled: all options were too rude
I'm generally against essentially diarising every little bit and bob that my greedy little goblet guzzles, as it would be a little too like one of those 'food diaries' that they make you keep at WeightWatchers, however, I couldn't resist with this little cracker.
Yesterday I went and did my weekly frugal shop. I pottered into the meat section and these little babies caught my eye:
Look at those eh?! An intriguing cross between pork belly and bacon rashers, with lovely fresh pink flesh glistening seductively in between temptingly tasty layers of fat. The challenge was too good to resist. Into my trolley they went.
But then I got them home and hit the post-shopping euphoric lapse as I realised I really am quite naive in the ways of pig. Pork is just something that I've always been a nervous about. I suspect it's one of those childhood things, as there are all too many 'thin, grey, tastless, chewy' memories floating round from my schooldays. This means that, bar my two faves - bacon and sausages - the rest of the pig rarely gets a look in. My new resolution therefore: all of this is going to change as of TODAY!
Inspired by a recipe I read on one of my favourite blogs, Eggs on Sunday, I thought it was time I whipped them out of their packet for a little dance in the frying pan, just in the nick of time for my lunch. I tried a variation on Amy's recipe .
Rubbing salt and pepper into the thick rashers, I then laid them in a frying pan where some hot oil sizzled. They cooked for some 3-4 minutes on both sides until golden and cooked through, when I laid them on a hot plate to one side as I made the sauce. To the oil I added some finely diced red onion and some chopped sage, allowed it to sizzle, scraped in the remnants of the pork from the pan, and deglazed with a couple of capfuls of cider vinegar. The mixture bubbled and wafted tantalising smells. I let cook and reduce for a few moments before spooning it over my belly/rasher hybrid, and enjoyed them with some buttered leeks and garlicky mushrooms.
Heavenly.
Yesterday I went and did my weekly frugal shop. I pottered into the meat section and these little babies caught my eye:
Look at those eh?! An intriguing cross between pork belly and bacon rashers, with lovely fresh pink flesh glistening seductively in between temptingly tasty layers of fat. The challenge was too good to resist. Into my trolley they went.
But then I got them home and hit the post-shopping euphoric lapse as I realised I really am quite naive in the ways of pig. Pork is just something that I've always been a nervous about. I suspect it's one of those childhood things, as there are all too many 'thin, grey, tastless, chewy' memories floating round from my schooldays. This means that, bar my two faves - bacon and sausages - the rest of the pig rarely gets a look in. My new resolution therefore: all of this is going to change as of TODAY!
Inspired by a recipe I read on one of my favourite blogs, Eggs on Sunday, I thought it was time I whipped them out of their packet for a little dance in the frying pan, just in the nick of time for my lunch. I tried a variation on Amy's recipe .
Rubbing salt and pepper into the thick rashers, I then laid them in a frying pan where some hot oil sizzled. They cooked for some 3-4 minutes on both sides until golden and cooked through, when I laid them on a hot plate to one side as I made the sauce. To the oil I added some finely diced red onion and some chopped sage, allowed it to sizzle, scraped in the remnants of the pork from the pan, and deglazed with a couple of capfuls of cider vinegar. The mixture bubbled and wafted tantalising smells. I let cook and reduce for a few moments before spooning it over my belly/rasher hybrid, and enjoyed them with some buttered leeks and garlicky mushrooms.
Heavenly.
Oldies are Goodies
One of the very happy side effects of living in a gurt big house in the country, and away from the hustle and bustle of London and constant social shenanigans that I would normally be furiously embroiled in, is that I'm really learning the value of spending real quality time with loved ones: friends and family.
So yesterday I was very excited when one of my bestest girlfriends came down to visit, the first time we've seen each other in the eight months or so since I went abroad. I had said we had so much to catch up on we should invest in one of those chess game timers - ok, 10 minutes to you, 10 minutes to me, 10 you, 10 me...thankfully we didn't have to resort to anything quite so regimented and I think we still pretty much covered all the bases, whilst at the same time cooking and eating a really very delicious, comforting winter supper to fill our tums as we talked.
Unsurprisingly, I'm the sort who finds it hard to concentrate on even two things at once - so listening, talking AND cooking meant that proceedings went veeeery leisurely, but that was fine, we had all the time in the world!
To curb our appetites, I quickly whipped us up some of the Carrot and Ginger soup, a rerun my last entry. It was just too good not to share!
A while later, we followed this up with Roast Butternut Squash and Bacon linguine with crumbled deep fried Sage, then a Blackberry tarlet for puds.
The Butternut Squash and Bacon linguine was really a bit of an experiment using some of my favourite ingredient combinations - I often use Butternut Squash in risotto, but I'd never actually cooked it with pasta. I figured really, what can go wrong with all of those goodies included?! My hunch was right and we both agreed it got top marks:
Butternut Squash & Bacon Linguine with crumbled deep fried Sage
Serves 2
Ingredients
a quarter of a butternut squash, peeled, deseeded and diced relatively small; 3-4 rashers bacon or pancetta, diced; 1 clove garlic, chopped; 8-9 sage leaves; 1/4 pint single cream; olive oil; linguine for 2
Method
Lay foil over a roasting tray and spread the butternut squash over, drizzle with olive oil and season generously, then roast at 240C for 30 minutes until soft with a little bite.
Start cooking the Linguine.
Lay the bacon in a frying pan and fry fast until slightly crispy. Remove the bacon from the pan and lay on kitchen paper to drain the fat, then quickly fry up the sage in the remaining bacon fat, removing to drain next to the bacon once done. My bacon produced enough fat for the whole dish but if yours doesn't, at this stage add a little olive oil and add the garlic until it sizzles and starts to go golden, then the bacon, and finally the butternut squash. Season, stir and cook through for a few minutes, and then add the cream, heat through for a minute or two.
Drain the linguine, retaining a tiny amount of water so the pasta doesn't dry, and toss together with the butternut squash mixture. Serve onto plates and crumble over the deep fried sage.
Thinking about it, by the time we served up, I was so eager to eat that I clean forgot parmesan, which of course would top off a truly delicious dish perfectly.
Blackberry Tarlets
Serves 2
I cheated and used preprepared, ready-to-cook tartlet cases (sorry, was BUSY during the day, can't cook everything from scratch!), but they were spectacular, so I would highly recommend cheating any day!
For the custard, beat 1 egg and add in a quarter pint of single cream, then beat in caster sugar. I've not quite figured out the right amount of caster sugar to add...I guesstimate maybe 5-6 tablespoons? Arrange the tartlet cases on a baking tray, and pour the custard in. Arrange the blackberries in the cases, and cook on about 180C for 15-20 minutes, until the pastry is cooked and the custard golden. Sift some icing sugar over the top if you want it really fancy. Me n mi amiga just gobbled ours down...hot! hot! hot!
Then the two greedy little piggies sat down with a cuppa chai and some of my special banana bread which I cooked that morning, the secret of which I will reveal when the time is right...
What else are best friends for than to help demolish the banana bread that you would otherwise be forced to eat entirely by yourself?!
Bliss.
So yesterday I was very excited when one of my bestest girlfriends came down to visit, the first time we've seen each other in the eight months or so since I went abroad. I had said we had so much to catch up on we should invest in one of those chess game timers - ok, 10 minutes to you, 10 minutes to me, 10 you, 10 me...thankfully we didn't have to resort to anything quite so regimented and I think we still pretty much covered all the bases, whilst at the same time cooking and eating a really very delicious, comforting winter supper to fill our tums as we talked.
Unsurprisingly, I'm the sort who finds it hard to concentrate on even two things at once - so listening, talking AND cooking meant that proceedings went veeeery leisurely, but that was fine, we had all the time in the world!
To curb our appetites, I quickly whipped us up some of the Carrot and Ginger soup, a rerun my last entry. It was just too good not to share!
A while later, we followed this up with Roast Butternut Squash and Bacon linguine with crumbled deep fried Sage, then a Blackberry tarlet for puds.
The Butternut Squash and Bacon linguine was really a bit of an experiment using some of my favourite ingredient combinations - I often use Butternut Squash in risotto, but I'd never actually cooked it with pasta. I figured really, what can go wrong with all of those goodies included?! My hunch was right and we both agreed it got top marks:
Butternut Squash & Bacon Linguine with crumbled deep fried Sage
Serves 2
Ingredients
a quarter of a butternut squash, peeled, deseeded and diced relatively small; 3-4 rashers bacon or pancetta, diced; 1 clove garlic, chopped; 8-9 sage leaves; 1/4 pint single cream; olive oil; linguine for 2
Method
Lay foil over a roasting tray and spread the butternut squash over, drizzle with olive oil and season generously, then roast at 240C for 30 minutes until soft with a little bite.
Start cooking the Linguine.
Lay the bacon in a frying pan and fry fast until slightly crispy. Remove the bacon from the pan and lay on kitchen paper to drain the fat, then quickly fry up the sage in the remaining bacon fat, removing to drain next to the bacon once done. My bacon produced enough fat for the whole dish but if yours doesn't, at this stage add a little olive oil and add the garlic until it sizzles and starts to go golden, then the bacon, and finally the butternut squash. Season, stir and cook through for a few minutes, and then add the cream, heat through for a minute or two.
Drain the linguine, retaining a tiny amount of water so the pasta doesn't dry, and toss together with the butternut squash mixture. Serve onto plates and crumble over the deep fried sage.
Thinking about it, by the time we served up, I was so eager to eat that I clean forgot parmesan, which of course would top off a truly delicious dish perfectly.
Blackberry Tarlets
Serves 2
I cheated and used preprepared, ready-to-cook tartlet cases (sorry, was BUSY during the day, can't cook everything from scratch!), but they were spectacular, so I would highly recommend cheating any day!
For the custard, beat 1 egg and add in a quarter pint of single cream, then beat in caster sugar. I've not quite figured out the right amount of caster sugar to add...I guesstimate maybe 5-6 tablespoons? Arrange the tartlet cases on a baking tray, and pour the custard in. Arrange the blackberries in the cases, and cook on about 180C for 15-20 minutes, until the pastry is cooked and the custard golden. Sift some icing sugar over the top if you want it really fancy. Me n mi amiga just gobbled ours down...hot! hot! hot!
Then the two greedy little piggies sat down with a cuppa chai and some of my special banana bread which I cooked that morning, the secret of which I will reveal when the time is right...
What else are best friends for than to help demolish the banana bread that you would otherwise be forced to eat entirely by yourself?!
Bliss.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Frugal Fare Challenge Day 3: Monday
Today has been very tough.
I've found out that one of the jobs which I was still holding out slight hope on had gone to another person as a result of a bit of a miscommunication between the HR lady, the Directors and the recruitment consultant. I made half a dozen furth
er new/continued feelers into the world of jobs and just received even more 'there's just not many roles at the moment'. I'm home alone, and for a whole hour I was in a bit of a slump.
So what's the best thing to do?! Cook some comfort food is what! I cheered myself up and took my mind off things by chopping leeks, sweating onions, and skimming chicken stock. It's an old friend coming to the rescue, the one dish which has supported me through thick and thin, and which never fails to comfort me with just one spoonful - I've ranted about it before, but the time has finally come for me to forsake it to cyberspace: Ma Pea's famous Chicken Soup.
Here is my hug in a bowl:
Leftovers: a couple of generous handfuls of cooked cold chicken, roughly chopped/pulled apart; 1.5litres of homemade chicken stock (see here for previous recipe)
From the fridge/veg bowl: 1 clove garlic, chopped; 1 onion, diced; 2 sticks celery, diced; 2 carrots, diced; half a leek, diced; salt, pepper; generous handful parsley, chopped coarsely
Method:
In a flat soup saucepan heat some olive oil and add the garlic. When garlic wafts are a-tantalising, add the onion and stir until coated in the oil and frying gently. Add the celery, carrot and leek and stir, covering the pan with a lid to allow to sweat for about five minutes until softened slightly. Ladle in the chicken stock, season and simmer gently for about 20 minutes, until the vegetables are tender. Keep an eye on them so that they don't overcook and lose their vibrant colour. Taste - the soup should be sumptuous and packed full of flavour, but season if it needs a little more pizzazz. Stir in the chopped chicken and the parsley, and heat through for 3-5 minutes until the soup (and the chicken) are piping hot. Serve with more iron-packed parsley.
Yet another slightly blurry photo from moi - I can't seem to figure out this fancy schmancy digital camera works....
I've found out that one of the jobs which I was still holding out slight hope on had gone to another person as a result of a bit of a miscommunication between the HR lady, the Directors and the recruitment consultant. I made half a dozen furth
er new/continued feelers into the world of jobs and just received even more 'there's just not many roles at the moment'. I'm home alone, and for a whole hour I was in a bit of a slump.
So what's the best thing to do?! Cook some comfort food is what! I cheered myself up and took my mind off things by chopping leeks, sweating onions, and skimming chicken stock. It's an old friend coming to the rescue, the one dish which has supported me through thick and thin, and which never fails to comfort me with just one spoonful - I've ranted about it before, but the time has finally come for me to forsake it to cyberspace: Ma Pea's famous Chicken Soup.
Here is my hug in a bowl:
Leftovers: a couple of generous handfuls of cooked cold chicken, roughly chopped/pulled apart; 1.5litres of homemade chicken stock (see here for previous recipe)
From the fridge/veg bowl: 1 clove garlic, chopped; 1 onion, diced; 2 sticks celery, diced; 2 carrots, diced; half a leek, diced; salt, pepper; generous handful parsley, chopped coarsely
Method:
In a flat soup saucepan heat some olive oil and add the garlic. When garlic wafts are a-tantalising, add the onion and stir until coated in the oil and frying gently. Add the celery, carrot and leek and stir, covering the pan with a lid to allow to sweat for about five minutes until softened slightly. Ladle in the chicken stock, season and simmer gently for about 20 minutes, until the vegetables are tender. Keep an eye on them so that they don't overcook and lose their vibrant colour. Taste - the soup should be sumptuous and packed full of flavour, but season if it needs a little more pizzazz. Stir in the chopped chicken and the parsley, and heat through for 3-5 minutes until the soup (and the chicken) are piping hot. Serve with more iron-packed parsley.
Yet another slightly blurry photo from moi - I can't seem to figure out this fancy schmancy digital camera works....The lunch was a success: distracting me from jobsearch woes, living up to my mantra of maintaing morale through nutrition, and resigning myself to the fact that without Ma Pea around to deliver a motherly sympathy hug, chicken soup was the next best thing. Not that I'm saying she's like a big bowl of hot stock, but...
Dinner: Sausages with second Bubble & Squeak
I confess that I'm finding it slightly tricky to balance the 'variety' and keeping things interesting, with the frankly overwhelming need I feel to make the most of leftovers - waste not want not, as my granddad said to me when I was little. So rather than beat myself up about this, I really am focussing on the frugal/economic meals. Hence an almost exact repeat of yesterday's lunch. With peas instead of beetroot. Hey - it was the perfect comfort food.
Dinner: Sausages with second Bubble & Squeak
I confess that I'm finding it slightly tricky to balance the 'variety' and keeping things interesting, with the frankly overwhelming need I feel to make the most of leftovers - waste not want not, as my granddad said to me when I was little. So rather than beat myself up about this, I really am focussing on the frugal/economic meals. Hence an almost exact repeat of yesterday's lunch. With peas instead of beetroot. Hey - it was the perfect comfort food.
Frugal Fare Challenge Day 2: Sunday
Sunday was an unashamed 'let's use leftovers' day. My challenge continued.
Breakfast (storecupboard): a little muesli; scrambled eggs on toast with roast tomatoes.
Item from weekly shop: 2 eggs
Lunch: Sausages with Bubble & Squeak and Beetroot
I cooked up some sausages I'd bought - not too kooky - and then I remembered that I had some leftover mash potato in the fridge. Out it came, to be made into a curiously successful take on Bubble & Squeak, but rather than using cabbage I used...cauliflower. Today I may well have entered into the realms of using-up-food-and-creating-dishes-that-only-I-would-eat, but only others can judge that...! I served it with the last remaining beetroot to polish it off.
Item from weekly shop: sausages; Fridge/Storecupboard: all other
To make Bubble & Squeak - both my own rather eccentric version and the usual with cabbage:
A small bowlful of cold, leftover mashed potato
A dollop of butter
Salt & Pepper
a handful of either chopped, sliced cabbage or several florets of cauliflower
Seasoned flour
Oil to fry
Plunge the cabbage/cauliflower into boiling water and boil for 6-8 minutes until tender. Drain and leave to cool slightly.
In a bowl, beat up the potato with the butter, and season generously. Tip the cab/caul into the potato mixture, and stir in. Take a generous handful of potato mixture out of the bowl and with your hands form it into a patty shape, dipping the patty into your seasoned flour mixture.
Heat some oil in a small frying pan and when hot drop your potato patty into the mixture. Cook on both sides (about 3-4 minutes) until golden. Very World War II.
I'd love to say I took a glorious photo of the above, but sadly twas not meant to be and my camera just wouldn't do it justice. I think it might take better photography skills than mine to render sausages appetising looking...so you'll just have to imagine a colourful, vibrant dish!
Dinner: A different version of yesterday's Chicken Pilaff
I softened half a leek gently for about ten minutes before adding in the remains of my pilaff from yesterday, and chopping another generous handful of parsley to pack it full of iron. Delicious, economic and lots of my daily dose of vegetables. A success in my book!
Breakfast (storecupboard): a little muesli; scrambled eggs on toast with roast tomatoes.
Item from weekly shop: 2 eggs
Lunch: Sausages with Bubble & Squeak and Beetroot
I cooked up some sausages I'd bought - not too kooky - and then I remembered that I had some leftover mash potato in the fridge. Out it came, to be made into a curiously successful take on Bubble & Squeak, but rather than using cabbage I used...cauliflower. Today I may well have entered into the realms of using-up-food-and-creating-dishes-that-only-I-would-eat, but only others can judge that...! I served it with the last remaining beetroot to polish it off.
Item from weekly shop: sausages; Fridge/Storecupboard: all other
To make Bubble & Squeak - both my own rather eccentric version and the usual with cabbage:
A small bowlful of cold, leftover mashed potato
A dollop of butter
Salt & Pepper
a handful of either chopped, sliced cabbage or several florets of cauliflower
Seasoned flour
Oil to fry
Plunge the cabbage/cauliflower into boiling water and boil for 6-8 minutes until tender. Drain and leave to cool slightly.
In a bowl, beat up the potato with the butter, and season generously. Tip the cab/caul into the potato mixture, and stir in. Take a generous handful of potato mixture out of the bowl and with your hands form it into a patty shape, dipping the patty into your seasoned flour mixture.
Heat some oil in a small frying pan and when hot drop your potato patty into the mixture. Cook on both sides (about 3-4 minutes) until golden. Very World War II.
I'd love to say I took a glorious photo of the above, but sadly twas not meant to be and my camera just wouldn't do it justice. I think it might take better photography skills than mine to render sausages appetising looking...so you'll just have to imagine a colourful, vibrant dish!
Dinner: A different version of yesterday's Chicken Pilaff
I softened half a leek gently for about ten minutes before adding in the remains of my pilaff from yesterday, and chopping another generous handful of parsley to pack it full of iron. Delicious, economic and lots of my daily dose of vegetables. A success in my book!
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Frugal Fare Challenge Day 1: Saturday
Ready, set, and go...the challenge begins.
Breakfast: storecupboard muesli and some blackberries from fridge leftovers.
Lunch: Roast Chicken with baby courgettes, baby carrots and beetroot.
I'm happy to say that the veg were all participants from the fridge, eager to get involved and, most importantly, to get used. The meal proved a very colourful plateful, alongside my highly useful, very simple Roast Chicken. I'm not what you'd call a fancy, schmancy cook - I'm still just learning. And a chicken is, to me, one of the ultimate fares which can stretch 62 different ways. Forget credit cards, chickens are my flexible friends!
Requirements:
1 chicken - mine wasn't fancy, and I'm ashamed to say it wasn't organic either, so £2.75 it was.
Glug of olive oil, 2 cloves garlic chopped, a dollop of butter, salt and pepper
Lay the chicken breast up in a high-sided roasting tray, cut away the excess skin at its neck and bottom, pop a lemon up its backsie, smear some butter all over its chest, and down into the joints of the legs/wings. Scatter the chopped garlic over, glug the olive oil across, and whack in the oven (I'm afraid to say I use an Aga, so this just means 'top oven') for 20 minutes at high heat, till the fat is bubbling and getting talkative, and the skin is lightly golden. Baste the breast and legs with the hot fat, so that the chicken glistens tastily.
Then pop some foil across the top for protection, and put back in the oven for an hour at a slightly lower heat. Baste from time to time to keep the lovely juices soaking into the chicken. The chicken is done when you pull the leg away from the body and it is no longer pink, or if you stick a knife into the leg joint and the juices run clear.
Mademoiselle la Poule, in all her glistening glory. She was a beaut. Shame about the photographer. Hopefully I will start to improve...
(My) Gravy: remove the chicken from the roasting pan and onto a carving tray, and pop the tray back onto a heat ring. Scrape all the bits into the tray, and start to heat the fat until it bubbles. Add a teaspoon of flour so that the gravy thickens, and stir vigorously to mix in. Add a teaspoon of gravy granules for colouring, and season with some salt and pepper. Then slowly add in some of the vegetable juices to bulk up the gravy. I never end up with smooth gravy, but I loathe it gloopy, so you will have to sieve out the bits, but will have a lovely juicy sauce to top your meat and veg with.
I then quickly got to work on pulling the meat off the chicken, and sending it off to the fridge packed up in foil, ready and waiting for me to conjure up some further delight with it. It would not have to wait long...
The bones were made into a lovely, scrumptious chicken stock - all the bones and the carcass went into a large saucepan, along with a whole carrot, a couple of celery sticks, the top half of a leek, a peeled, halved onion, a peeled garlic clove, 8 peppercorns, a bay leaf and some parsley stalks, with a couple of litres of water to fill and several generous pinches of salt. About an hour of bubbling later, and I had my stock! It was dutifully drained of its by now rather sorry looking occupants (oh such use and abuse!), resulting in a tasty, glisteningly perfect, and highly useful stock. The champion of frugality methinks.
Dinner: Chicken Pilaff
There is something rather retro and 70s sounding about a pilaff. Am I the only one who thinks this? But it is such a simple storecupboard dish, that can be rustled up with a variety of different ingredients, and is perfect for me to hit the 'waste not, want not' objective. So it seems a great shame for me (or anyone) to sneer, just because it sounds old fashioned.
Leftovers: a generous handful of cold chicken roughly chopped - several ladles of chicken stock
The Fruit&Veg bowl/The Fridge: a clove garlic (chopped), an onion (diced), 2 sticks celery (diced), 1 small green pepper (diced), a large handful of baby tomatoes (halved), generous handful of chopped parsley
The Storecupboard: some fastcook long grain rice of a brand I shan't mention
Method:
In a shallow saucepan, gently sweat the garlic, onion, celery and pepper in a small amount of butter and oil. Once golden, add the tomatoes (add them too early and they will just disappear and go terribly mushy), and then add a cupful of the rice. Stir to mix and to coat the rice grains in some of the fat, and then add a two or three ladlefuls of the boiling stock. Rather like a risotto, only the pilaff will not become a creamy mass, but will retain its ricey origins. Now leave to simmer for as long as your rice packet tells you (mine was 10 minutes). Do not stir and fuss around, as this breaks up the rice grains and results in a big old mess. Should you notice that the liquid is becoming rather sparse, simply add another ladleful. The rice should, after the recommended period of time, have absorbed up the liquid, and be cooked whilst still retaining bite. Stir in your chicken and your parsley and heat the chicken for a few minutes, until hot through. Scatter with parsley and serve as is.
My picture does not nearly do the tastiness justice, but you will fast become used to this. I repeat: I am not a photographer, I am not a photographer. Maybe I'd do better if I just drew the food!
Day 1 - £2.75 actually spent, plus a smidgen of 'cheat items'. At the end of the week I will tot up what I actually spent where, to give you an accurate idea.
Breakfast: storecupboard muesli and some blackberries from fridge leftovers.
Lunch: Roast Chicken with baby courgettes, baby carrots and beetroot.
I'm happy to say that the veg were all participants from the fridge, eager to get involved and, most importantly, to get used. The meal proved a very colourful plateful, alongside my highly useful, very simple Roast Chicken. I'm not what you'd call a fancy, schmancy cook - I'm still just learning. And a chicken is, to me, one of the ultimate fares which can stretch 62 different ways. Forget credit cards, chickens are my flexible friends!
Requirements:
1 chicken - mine wasn't fancy, and I'm ashamed to say it wasn't organic either, so £2.75 it was.
Glug of olive oil, 2 cloves garlic chopped, a dollop of butter, salt and pepper
Lay the chicken breast up in a high-sided roasting tray, cut away the excess skin at its neck and bottom, pop a lemon up its backsie, smear some butter all over its chest, and down into the joints of the legs/wings. Scatter the chopped garlic over, glug the olive oil across, and whack in the oven (I'm afraid to say I use an Aga, so this just means 'top oven') for 20 minutes at high heat, till the fat is bubbling and getting talkative, and the skin is lightly golden. Baste the breast and legs with the hot fat, so that the chicken glistens tastily.
Then pop some foil across the top for protection, and put back in the oven for an hour at a slightly lower heat. Baste from time to time to keep the lovely juices soaking into the chicken. The chicken is done when you pull the leg away from the body and it is no longer pink, or if you stick a knife into the leg joint and the juices run clear.
Mademoiselle la Poule, in all her glistening glory. She was a beaut. Shame about the photographer. Hopefully I will start to improve...
(My) Gravy: remove the chicken from the roasting pan and onto a carving tray, and pop the tray back onto a heat ring. Scrape all the bits into the tray, and start to heat the fat until it bubbles. Add a teaspoon of flour so that the gravy thickens, and stir vigorously to mix in. Add a teaspoon of gravy granules for colouring, and season with some salt and pepper. Then slowly add in some of the vegetable juices to bulk up the gravy. I never end up with smooth gravy, but I loathe it gloopy, so you will have to sieve out the bits, but will have a lovely juicy sauce to top your meat and veg with.
I then quickly got to work on pulling the meat off the chicken, and sending it off to the fridge packed up in foil, ready and waiting for me to conjure up some further delight with it. It would not have to wait long...
The bones were made into a lovely, scrumptious chicken stock - all the bones and the carcass went into a large saucepan, along with a whole carrot, a couple of celery sticks, the top half of a leek, a peeled, halved onion, a peeled garlic clove, 8 peppercorns, a bay leaf and some parsley stalks, with a couple of litres of water to fill and several generous pinches of salt. About an hour of bubbling later, and I had my stock! It was dutifully drained of its by now rather sorry looking occupants (oh such use and abuse!), resulting in a tasty, glisteningly perfect, and highly useful stock. The champion of frugality methinks.
Dinner: Chicken Pilaff
There is something rather retro and 70s sounding about a pilaff. Am I the only one who thinks this? But it is such a simple storecupboard dish, that can be rustled up with a variety of different ingredients, and is perfect for me to hit the 'waste not, want not' objective. So it seems a great shame for me (or anyone) to sneer, just because it sounds old fashioned.
Leftovers: a generous handful of cold chicken roughly chopped - several ladles of chicken stock
The Fruit&Veg bowl/The Fridge: a clove garlic (chopped), an onion (diced), 2 sticks celery (diced), 1 small green pepper (diced), a large handful of baby tomatoes (halved), generous handful of chopped parsley
The Storecupboard: some fastcook long grain rice of a brand I shan't mention
Method:
In a shallow saucepan, gently sweat the garlic, onion, celery and pepper in a small amount of butter and oil. Once golden, add the tomatoes (add them too early and they will just disappear and go terribly mushy), and then add a cupful of the rice. Stir to mix and to coat the rice grains in some of the fat, and then add a two or three ladlefuls of the boiling stock. Rather like a risotto, only the pilaff will not become a creamy mass, but will retain its ricey origins. Now leave to simmer for as long as your rice packet tells you (mine was 10 minutes). Do not stir and fuss around, as this breaks up the rice grains and results in a big old mess. Should you notice that the liquid is becoming rather sparse, simply add another ladleful. The rice should, after the recommended period of time, have absorbed up the liquid, and be cooked whilst still retaining bite. Stir in your chicken and your parsley and heat the chicken for a few minutes, until hot through. Scatter with parsley and serve as is.
My picture does not nearly do the tastiness justice, but you will fast become used to this. I repeat: I am not a photographer, I am not a photographer. Maybe I'd do better if I just drew the food!
The Pilaff in all its retro glory - complete with apparently equally retro plate. What a perfect couple.
Day 1 - £2.75 actually spent, plus a smidgen of 'cheat items'. At the end of the week I will tot up what I actually spent where, to give you an accurate idea.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
I ate (his) liver with some....ciabatta and onions???
My kidney adventures seemed to develop this alarming taste for the wobbly stuff, and within days I was searching out my next inside-y treat. Offal-shopping seemed to rouse this peculiar sense of humour in me, as I clanged open the door to my local butcher's like Billy the Kid entering a saloon, heavy boots clunking and spurs jangling (though in reality this may have been more - skipping in in my ballet pumps, short dress swishing, eyelashes batting). 'I'll have some of your liver', I growled. Happily, butchers are in (full-time) possession of my (part-time) gruesome sense of humour and this request prompted one of the butchers guffawing heartily, yelling 'of course you can luv', and then miming a slicing action to his colleagues lower back.
I reassessed: 'ok then, maybe not your liver, but what other liver do you have?'. Calves' and Lambs' is the usual choice, and if you're lucky, the butcher's. Lambs', however, comes in at a mere £3.99 a kilo, but also with the warning that it is 'a bit stronger tasting, more in your face'. Away with subtlety, give me economy good sir! So 150g of their finest Lambs' liver it was for me! 60p lunch.
I huddled over a bunch of recipe books for this one, and ended up coming up with a mixture of Nigel's and Nigella's.
Liver and onion ciabatta
Serves 1
Ingredients
150g Liver - bat your eyelashes at the butcher and ask him to slice it very thinly
2 tablespoons flour seasoned well with salt and pepper
Groundnut oil or butter to fry
1/2 an onion, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon of pomegranate molasses stirred into a cup of water (or 1 pomegranate squeezed - distinctly more messy)
A ciabatta roll, sliced lengthways
Method
Soften the onions slowly in a frying pan for about ten minutes. When nicely golden, add half of the pomegranate molasses water, and cook for a further 5-10 minutes, until the onions have fully absorbed the water and are a sumptuous, slithery mass. Remove from the frying pan onto a heated plate and cover to retain the heat. Start to toast the ciabatta.
Re-oil the pan and coat the liver with the seasoned flour, then fry briskly for about three minutes on both sides, before the liver cooks through so that it retains pinkness.
Load the toasted ciabatta up with the liver and the onions, and meanwhile deglaze the pan with the rest of the pomegranate sauce, and pour over to soak into the crusty ciabatta roll.
It was a real treat: the perfect, comforting, lunch for one on a cold and crispy late Autumn day. The soft sweetness of the liver is stopped from being overbearing by the mass of caramelised onions, and that particular tart sticky sweetness of the pomegranate sauce. I mopped up the sauce with the ciabatta and a crisp, simple chicory salad and had to rouse myself from a trance at the end of the meal.
I reassessed: 'ok then, maybe not your liver, but what other liver do you have?'. Calves' and Lambs' is the usual choice, and if you're lucky, the butcher's. Lambs', however, comes in at a mere £3.99 a kilo, but also with the warning that it is 'a bit stronger tasting, more in your face'. Away with subtlety, give me economy good sir! So 150g of their finest Lambs' liver it was for me! 60p lunch.
I huddled over a bunch of recipe books for this one, and ended up coming up with a mixture of Nigel's and Nigella's.
Liver and onion ciabatta
Serves 1
Ingredients
150g Liver - bat your eyelashes at the butcher and ask him to slice it very thinly
2 tablespoons flour seasoned well with salt and pepper
Groundnut oil or butter to fry
1/2 an onion, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon of pomegranate molasses stirred into a cup of water (or 1 pomegranate squeezed - distinctly more messy)
A ciabatta roll, sliced lengthways
Method
Soften the onions slowly in a frying pan for about ten minutes. When nicely golden, add half of the pomegranate molasses water, and cook for a further 5-10 minutes, until the onions have fully absorbed the water and are a sumptuous, slithery mass. Remove from the frying pan onto a heated plate and cover to retain the heat. Start to toast the ciabatta.
Re-oil the pan and coat the liver with the seasoned flour, then fry briskly for about three minutes on both sides, before the liver cooks through so that it retains pinkness.
Load the toasted ciabatta up with the liver and the onions, and meanwhile deglaze the pan with the rest of the pomegranate sauce, and pour over to soak into the crusty ciabatta roll.
It was a real treat: the perfect, comforting, lunch for one on a cold and crispy late Autumn day. The soft sweetness of the liver is stopped from being overbearing by the mass of caramelised onions, and that particular tart sticky sweetness of the pomegranate sauce. I mopped up the sauce with the ciabatta and a crisp, simple chicory salad and had to rouse myself from a trance at the end of the meal.
Friday, November 7, 2008
A load of old (w)offal
Cor, blimey guv'nor but I've been eating an offal lot of awful recently. I mean, erm, offal, OFFAL.
Those of a weak constitution I suggest you look away now, as I'm about to get grizzly on you.
Now, I should probably start off by telling you that I have a remarkable tendency to faint dead away at the sight or mention of blood, or indeed insides of any description. I must be one of the few people ever to attempt to donate blood and to FAIL. I failed to give an entire pint of blood in the allotted time - I was so tense that my blood omitted to flow fast enough for the requisite 15 minute maximum. Nurses across the world have had to rouse me from dazed stupors of such a description.
So it might come as a surprise that I am also, somewhat paradoxically, the sort of girl who wants, and indeed proactively seeks, to eat such (to some) grizzly innards as kidneys and liver. I'm also researching what other body parts I've yet to try. Ma Pea is eternally perplexed at how she has managed to produce an offspring who, rather than requesting sweets, manicures or undies, instead requests animals' insides.
In these penny-pinched times (yes, you've guessed it, this is another of my frugal goodies), eating the whole of the animal is not only not wasteful, but also terribly kind on your wallet. Calves' or lambs' liver and kidneys provide a very cheap and nourishing meal, jam-packed full of iron and nutrients. Some of you may find this abhorrent, but don't knock it until you've tried it! With a very particular, slightly creamy texture, it might take a little getting used to, but I think it is well worth persevering with educating your palate. It is also worth saying that, should you be funny (like I am - I know, wimp) about handling the slithery organs, ask the butcher to remove whatever needs removing, and then you needn't touch them at all. See why not below!
Inspired by an excellent article in Waitrose Food Illustrated interviewing Fergus Henderson, he of St John fame, and a vociferous advocate of 'nose to tail eating', I decided to try Ma Pea's own version of Devilled Kidneys. As Fergus says, rather considerately I think, "Once an animal has been knocked on the head, surely it's only polite to eat it all?". Well, quite.
Starting with the kidneys.
Devilled Kidneys
Serves 2
4 Lambs kidneys, skins removed and chopped into mouthfuls
2 tablespoons flour, seasoned with plenty of salt and pepper and a teaspoon of English mustard powder
Groundnut oil to fry
tsp Gravy Granules
Splash of Sherry
The Perfect Piece of Toast
Put all of your seasoned flour mixture onto an A4 sized piece of tin foil, and plop the kidneys into the middle of the mixture. Coat the kidneys by pulling the foil from either side so that they are rolled around in the mixture in the middle.
Heat the oil in a frying pan on a high heat, and lift the coated kidneys out into the frying pan, moving round in the pan until the kidneys achieve a brown crust. At this stage add your gravy granules and a small dash of water (you can at this stage add some cream and some dijon mustard if you are feeling really swish) and season generously. Once the kidneys are curled but not overcooked, serve them on your buttered toast. Deglaze the pan with a dash of sherry, and pour the decadent mixture over the kidneys and toast.
I feel rather like a squire or a count when I eat this dish - there is something naughty and decadent about it. Offally good show ol' chap. I say. Wot wot.
Those of a weak constitution I suggest you look away now, as I'm about to get grizzly on you.
Now, I should probably start off by telling you that I have a remarkable tendency to faint dead away at the sight or mention of blood, or indeed insides of any description. I must be one of the few people ever to attempt to donate blood and to FAIL. I failed to give an entire pint of blood in the allotted time - I was so tense that my blood omitted to flow fast enough for the requisite 15 minute maximum. Nurses across the world have had to rouse me from dazed stupors of such a description.
So it might come as a surprise that I am also, somewhat paradoxically, the sort of girl who wants, and indeed proactively seeks, to eat such (to some) grizzly innards as kidneys and liver. I'm also researching what other body parts I've yet to try. Ma Pea is eternally perplexed at how she has managed to produce an offspring who, rather than requesting sweets, manicures or undies, instead requests animals' insides.
In these penny-pinched times (yes, you've guessed it, this is another of my frugal goodies), eating the whole of the animal is not only not wasteful, but also terribly kind on your wallet. Calves' or lambs' liver and kidneys provide a very cheap and nourishing meal, jam-packed full of iron and nutrients. Some of you may find this abhorrent, but don't knock it until you've tried it! With a very particular, slightly creamy texture, it might take a little getting used to, but I think it is well worth persevering with educating your palate. It is also worth saying that, should you be funny (like I am - I know, wimp) about handling the slithery organs, ask the butcher to remove whatever needs removing, and then you needn't touch them at all. See why not below!
Inspired by an excellent article in Waitrose Food Illustrated interviewing Fergus Henderson, he of St John fame, and a vociferous advocate of 'nose to tail eating', I decided to try Ma Pea's own version of Devilled Kidneys. As Fergus says, rather considerately I think, "Once an animal has been knocked on the head, surely it's only polite to eat it all?". Well, quite.
Starting with the kidneys.
Devilled Kidneys
Serves 2
4 Lambs kidneys, skins removed and chopped into mouthfuls
2 tablespoons flour, seasoned with plenty of salt and pepper and a teaspoon of English mustard powder
Groundnut oil to fry
tsp Gravy Granules
Splash of Sherry
The Perfect Piece of Toast
Put all of your seasoned flour mixture onto an A4 sized piece of tin foil, and plop the kidneys into the middle of the mixture. Coat the kidneys by pulling the foil from either side so that they are rolled around in the mixture in the middle.
Heat the oil in a frying pan on a high heat, and lift the coated kidneys out into the frying pan, moving round in the pan until the kidneys achieve a brown crust. At this stage add your gravy granules and a small dash of water (you can at this stage add some cream and some dijon mustard if you are feeling really swish) and season generously. Once the kidneys are curled but not overcooked, serve them on your buttered toast. Deglaze the pan with a dash of sherry, and pour the decadent mixture over the kidneys and toast.
I feel rather like a squire or a count when I eat this dish - there is something naughty and decadent about it. Offally good show ol' chap. I say. Wot wot.
A Yeast Feast
Apologies for my title, I know it is hackneyed and old fashioned (I listened to the best show on BBC iPlayer's rerun of Radio 4 'Beanz Meanz Rhymez' comparing and contrasting copywriting and poetry writing - fascinating. Was most upset to discover that my two favourite things, silly rhymes and terrible alliteration, are officially passe. Well, of course I knew it already, but it was still devastating to hear it confirmed.)
Apologies also for my lengthy absence. Things have been busy on the job/interview front, that was until the economic situation really started to strike in earnest. So I'm having to take a more creative approach to life. But it's alright, for my writing at least - it is looking like for a while I may be returning to the Good Life, as well as possibly, possibly setting up my own business. The this time back in the country, and minimised incomings, is providing the perfect setting for me to explore a food theme that I find quite fascinating, and which, after all, may be relevant for a LOT of people out there, who are having to start to tighten the purse strings, but still need to feed themselves (and others) with less dosh. More nosh for less dosh so to speak. Oh gosh, sorry, I think the habit may be somewhat difficult to break!
So to start off what is going to be an ongoing theme, something cheap, cheerful and STRESS-RELIEVING.
Eh? Stress-relieving? Wot??
Ahhhhh, yes. Stress relieving. Take a lovely, long deep breath and say together with me:
'frreeeeeessssh breeeeadd' 'freeeeesshhhhh hoooomeemaaaade breeeeeaddddd'.
Yip. That's right. Make yourself up a generous dollop of yeasty bread dough (sadly not dough of the £££ variety, soz), and not only will you have plenty of bread for the following few days' sarnies, and toast for all those buttered soldiers you eat with your boiled egg, but you will also have a free punchbag. Any money stresses instantly relieved, 100% guarantee or your money back.*
So here it is, a simple, foolproof wholemeal bread recipe.
Ingredients:
1lb Wholemeal Flour
1/2 lb Strong White Flour
1 pkt dried yeast (you can of course use fresh yeast but I'm going to be doing this at a later date)
salt
olive oil and warm water to about 3/4-1 pint
Method:
Mix flour, yeast and salt and add about 1 pint of liquid, depending on the flour. Best to make a sloppy dough and then add more water in order to knead it. Knead roughly until smooth - about 2 minutes.
Pop in a large mixing bowl and cover with cling film, leaving to rise for about an hour (somewhere warm and without a draft).
Pound down until you've removed the air, and knead for about 10 minutes, until there are small bubbles under the surface of the dough. If you've not kneaded before, push the dough away from you with the heel of one hand, stretching the dough out and pulling back with a knuckle to reform, then repeat).
Using one large and one small bread tin, line both with greased greaseproof paper. Split the dough between the two accordingly, roughly forming the dough into loaf shapes. Leave to rise again for another half hour to an hour.
Bake for 1/2-3/4 hour at 350F. until golden. Test with a skewer, and when the loaf is removed from the oven and tin, it should sound hollow when you knock the bottom.
Delicious thickly sliced plain or toasted for the ideal golden, crumbly, slightly chewy, buttered vehicle for Marmite, or your favourite marmelade!
*please do not hold me to this, I advise you also take up some yoga, or maybe start babysitting for a bit of extra cash
Apologies also for my lengthy absence. Things have been busy on the job/interview front, that was until the economic situation really started to strike in earnest. So I'm having to take a more creative approach to life. But it's alright, for my writing at least - it is looking like for a while I may be returning to the Good Life, as well as possibly, possibly setting up my own business. The this time back in the country, and minimised incomings, is providing the perfect setting for me to explore a food theme that I find quite fascinating, and which, after all, may be relevant for a LOT of people out there, who are having to start to tighten the purse strings, but still need to feed themselves (and others) with less dosh. More nosh for less dosh so to speak. Oh gosh, sorry, I think the habit may be somewhat difficult to break!
So to start off what is going to be an ongoing theme, something cheap, cheerful and STRESS-RELIEVING.
Eh? Stress-relieving? Wot??
Ahhhhh, yes. Stress relieving. Take a lovely, long deep breath and say together with me:
'frreeeeeessssh breeeeadd' 'freeeeesshhhhh hoooomeemaaaade breeeeeaddddd'.
Yip. That's right. Make yourself up a generous dollop of yeasty bread dough (sadly not dough of the £££ variety, soz), and not only will you have plenty of bread for the following few days' sarnies, and toast for all those buttered soldiers you eat with your boiled egg, but you will also have a free punchbag. Any money stresses instantly relieved, 100% guarantee or your money back.*
So here it is, a simple, foolproof wholemeal bread recipe.
Ingredients:
1lb Wholemeal Flour
1/2 lb Strong White Flour
1 pkt dried yeast (you can of course use fresh yeast but I'm going to be doing this at a later date)
salt
olive oil and warm water to about 3/4-1 pint
Method:
Mix flour, yeast and salt and add about 1 pint of liquid, depending on the flour. Best to make a sloppy dough and then add more water in order to knead it. Knead roughly until smooth - about 2 minutes.
Pop in a large mixing bowl and cover with cling film, leaving to rise for about an hour (somewhere warm and without a draft).
Pound down until you've removed the air, and knead for about 10 minutes, until there are small bubbles under the surface of the dough. If you've not kneaded before, push the dough away from you with the heel of one hand, stretching the dough out and pulling back with a knuckle to reform, then repeat).
Using one large and one small bread tin, line both with greased greaseproof paper. Split the dough between the two accordingly, roughly forming the dough into loaf shapes. Leave to rise again for another half hour to an hour.
Bake for 1/2-3/4 hour at 350F. until golden. Test with a skewer, and when the loaf is removed from the oven and tin, it should sound hollow when you knock the bottom.
Delicious thickly sliced plain or toasted for the ideal golden, crumbly, slightly chewy, buttered vehicle for Marmite, or your favourite marmelade!
*please do not hold me to this, I advise you also take up some yoga, or maybe start babysitting for a bit of extra cash
Friday, October 24, 2008
Souper Duper Chestnut Trooper
We experienced an avalanche in Surrey yesterday.
Of sweet chestnuts.
Piles and piles of the things in their bombastic bright green, spiked and rather aggressive jackets, they've covered the road in a number of the places Ma Pea and I have been walking. With our trusty plastic bag to hand, and humming in cheerful anticipation of our FREE edible wares, we got collecting! For MP I think there was an element of childhood glee there, it was clear that she had done this before. Like excited toddlers, we both pounced on the ominous looking spiky bundles and, as I'd never been chestnut-gathering before, she taught me how to gently scuff it with your shoe until the case bursts open to reveal three or four glossy brown chestnuts nestled inside. What treasure!
There is something incredibly satisfying about finding your own lunch. Maybe I'll become one of these outdoor scavengers, shooting squirrels and roasting them over an open fire, with a few choice funghi thrown in for good measure. I can just picture it now...or maybe I'll just stick to the aga.
The glut called for nothing less than a heavenly soup. So here it is.
Chestnut, Bacon and Potato Soup
Serves 4
Ingredients
50g Butter and glug of oil
250g bacon, cut into small cubes
1 onion, diced
3 celery sticks, diced
2 cloves garlic, diced
1 litre of stock
1 sprig fresh rosemary
3 sprigs fresh thyme
300g potato cut into small pieces
400g chestnuts
salt, pepper
If your chestnuts are fresh, wash them and make a small incision in each, putting them on a roasting tin to roast for 20 minutes at high heat, or until they have burst out of their skins. Let them cool and then peel them to remove both the outside and inside skin.
If packaged, pour boiling water over the vacuum pack, and leave for a few minutes until loosened, then cut open the top of the bag to release the chestnuts.
In a large saucepan, melt the butter and add a glug of oil, browning the bacon gently until it releases its fatty juices. Add the chopped onion, celery and garlic and soften gently for 15 minutes. Add the stock, thyme and rosemary and season well, bringing the mixture up to the boil.
Chop the chestnuts to small pieces and add them, along with the potatoes into the soup. Simmer for 20 minutes, by which time the potatoes will be butter smooth. Serve with a glug of olive oil and a generous dollop of chopped parsley.
A cracking autumn warmer.
Of sweet chestnuts.
Piles and piles of the things in their bombastic bright green, spiked and rather aggressive jackets, they've covered the road in a number of the places Ma Pea and I have been walking. With our trusty plastic bag to hand, and humming in cheerful anticipation of our FREE edible wares, we got collecting! For MP I think there was an element of childhood glee there, it was clear that she had done this before. Like excited toddlers, we both pounced on the ominous looking spiky bundles and, as I'd never been chestnut-gathering before, she taught me how to gently scuff it with your shoe until the case bursts open to reveal three or four glossy brown chestnuts nestled inside. What treasure!
There is something incredibly satisfying about finding your own lunch. Maybe I'll become one of these outdoor scavengers, shooting squirrels and roasting them over an open fire, with a few choice funghi thrown in for good measure. I can just picture it now...or maybe I'll just stick to the aga.
The glut called for nothing less than a heavenly soup. So here it is.
Chestnut, Bacon and Potato Soup
Serves 4
Ingredients
50g Butter and glug of oil
250g bacon, cut into small cubes
1 onion, diced
3 celery sticks, diced
2 cloves garlic, diced
1 litre of stock
1 sprig fresh rosemary
3 sprigs fresh thyme
300g potato cut into small pieces
400g chestnuts
salt, pepper
If your chestnuts are fresh, wash them and make a small incision in each, putting them on a roasting tin to roast for 20 minutes at high heat, or until they have burst out of their skins. Let them cool and then peel them to remove both the outside and inside skin.
If packaged, pour boiling water over the vacuum pack, and leave for a few minutes until loosened, then cut open the top of the bag to release the chestnuts.
In a large saucepan, melt the butter and add a glug of oil, browning the bacon gently until it releases its fatty juices. Add the chopped onion, celery and garlic and soften gently for 15 minutes. Add the stock, thyme and rosemary and season well, bringing the mixture up to the boil.
Chop the chestnuts to small pieces and add them, along with the potatoes into the soup. Simmer for 20 minutes, by which time the potatoes will be butter smooth. Serve with a glug of olive oil and a generous dollop of chopped parsley.
A cracking autumn warmer.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Simple Sustaining Supper
With barely a moment’s breather between soup and main, Ma Pea and I got cooking the next course, a very satisfying Haddock Kedgeree. The recipe is one we’ve used in the family for a long while, but which initially came from dear ol’ Delia. I refer to her with such affection because well, we all know and love her don’t we, us Brits. She’s held many a hand through a Roast Lunch or entire Christmas dinner, and taught many a novice how to boil an egg. All of this recent hoo ha about her new cheats aside (seriously, who is so lazy that they use pre-packed chopped onion?!), her old classics really do methodically demonstrate to the novice cook how to yield results in the kitchen, confidently and efficiently, 100% of the time.
So, let's talk Kedgeree.
Buttery Haddock Kedgeree
Serves 4 generously portioned suppers
Ingredients
Butter
1 onion
1 teaspoon curry powder
8fl oz long-grained white rice
16fl oz water
1.5 lb smoked haddock fillets
2 hard-boiled eggs, peeled and chopped
3 heaped tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
1 tablespoon lemon juice
salt, pepper
Place the haddock in a pan with the water, bringing them to the boil and simmering gently for 8 minutes. Drain off the water into a measuring jug. Transfer the haddock into another dish and cover with foil.
In the same saucepan, melt a generous knob of butter, and soften the onion in it for 5 minutes. Stir in the curry powder, cook for half a minute and then stir in the measured rice and 16 fl oz of Haddock water. When simmering, cover with a tight-fitting lid and cook very gently for 15 minutes or until the rice is tender.
Remove the fish skin and flake the meat. When the rice mixture is ready fork in the flaked fish, hard-boiled eggs, parsley, lemon juice and the remaining couple ounces of butter. Season and serve.
Again, another tres simple, cheap and simple supper. Stellar.
So, let's talk Kedgeree.
Buttery Haddock Kedgeree
Serves 4 generously portioned suppers
Ingredients
Butter
1 onion
1 teaspoon curry powder
8fl oz long-grained white rice
16fl oz water
1.5 lb smoked haddock fillets
2 hard-boiled eggs, peeled and chopped
3 heaped tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
1 tablespoon lemon juice
salt, pepper
Place the haddock in a pan with the water, bringing them to the boil and simmering gently for 8 minutes. Drain off the water into a measuring jug. Transfer the haddock into another dish and cover with foil.
In the same saucepan, melt a generous knob of butter, and soften the onion in it for 5 minutes. Stir in the curry powder, cook for half a minute and then stir in the measured rice and 16 fl oz of Haddock water. When simmering, cover with a tight-fitting lid and cook very gently for 15 minutes or until the rice is tender.
Remove the fish skin and flake the meat. When the rice mixture is ready fork in the flaked fish, hard-boiled eggs, parsley, lemon juice and the remaining couple ounces of butter. Season and serve.
Again, another tres simple, cheap and simple supper. Stellar.
Soup - basic adaptable recipe
I have spent my entire life watching my mother, known throughout the land as Soup Queen (by friends, family members, my father in particular, ex-boyfriends, and even strangers), producing delicious, nutritious, steaming great bowls of soupy goodness. It is a rare talent and, frankly, she’s spoilt me for life. None of those cartons of Covent Garden soups, or particularly those tins of Heinz, will ever, ever quite cut it (bar Heinz tomato soup, which, for nostalgia’s sake, will always hold a special place in my heart). I have ordered soups from fancy restaurants – they’ve disappointed. I’ve ordered soups from little cafes – let’s not even talk about it. Suffice to say that as a result of her heavenly concoctions, the humble soup will always remain on a lofty, and practically unattainable, pedestal.
It is therefore about time I learnt her secrets for myself (after all, it is hardly a secret that dad married her for her soups…). I have made soups before, but I think that learning the adaptable basics from mum is a lesson well overdue.
Drumroll, then, for….our first soup lesson together. Lacking in pictures, en ce moment, but rest assured I will be rectifying this situation shortly.
Chickpea & Bacon Soup
Makes 8-10 hearty helpings of slurpy wonderment
Ingredients
Olive oil
1 clove garlic, chopped
4-5 rashers smoky bacon, chopped small
2 small onions, diced
3 small carrots, diced
2 celery sticks, diced
generous quantity of parsley, chopped fine
1 tin chopped tomatoes
1 chicken/ham/vegetable stock cube
1 tin chickpeas, drained
salt, pepper
In a large saucepan sweat the bacon with the garlic and a couple tablespoons olive oil, until lightly browned, remove into a bowl.
Again in a couple tablespoons olive oil sweat the onions, and add the carrot and celery to soften.
Stir the bacon back in and add the tin of chopped tomatoes, plus one tin of water (using the empty tomato tin), and the tin of chickpeas. Crumble in a stock cube and, if still lacking for liquid, add a little extra water. Add in a couple of handfuls of chopped parsley, and simmer for 20-25 minutes until the vegetables are tender.
Whiz 2-3 ladlefuls of the mixture up in a blender to thicken, and stir back into the soup. Taste for seasoning and add salt/pepper accordingly (bearing in mind that the stock cube and the bacon will automatically make the soup quite salty).
Serve with a generous amount of parsley.
Honestly, this soup was to die for. In fact, I’m just about to have some of the leftovers for lunch! Dead cheap to make and very economical as it goes such a long way, packed with taste, high in protein – with the pulses and the bacon – and with a hefty whack of your daily five. What more could you want?!
It is therefore about time I learnt her secrets for myself (after all, it is hardly a secret that dad married her for her soups…). I have made soups before, but I think that learning the adaptable basics from mum is a lesson well overdue.
Drumroll, then, for….our first soup lesson together. Lacking in pictures, en ce moment, but rest assured I will be rectifying this situation shortly.
Chickpea & Bacon Soup
Makes 8-10 hearty helpings of slurpy wonderment
Ingredients
Olive oil
1 clove garlic, chopped
4-5 rashers smoky bacon, chopped small
2 small onions, diced
3 small carrots, diced
2 celery sticks, diced
generous quantity of parsley, chopped fine
1 tin chopped tomatoes
1 chicken/ham/vegetable stock cube
1 tin chickpeas, drained
salt, pepper
In a large saucepan sweat the bacon with the garlic and a couple tablespoons olive oil, until lightly browned, remove into a bowl.
Again in a couple tablespoons olive oil sweat the onions, and add the carrot and celery to soften.
Stir the bacon back in and add the tin of chopped tomatoes, plus one tin of water (using the empty tomato tin), and the tin of chickpeas. Crumble in a stock cube and, if still lacking for liquid, add a little extra water. Add in a couple of handfuls of chopped parsley, and simmer for 20-25 minutes until the vegetables are tender.
Whiz 2-3 ladlefuls of the mixture up in a blender to thicken, and stir back into the soup. Taste for seasoning and add salt/pepper accordingly (bearing in mind that the stock cube and the bacon will automatically make the soup quite salty).
Serve with a generous amount of parsley.
Honestly, this soup was to die for. In fact, I’m just about to have some of the leftovers for lunch! Dead cheap to make and very economical as it goes such a long way, packed with taste, high in protein – with the pulses and the bacon – and with a hefty whack of your daily five. What more could you want?!
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