Hwngo stayed over after a hectic, rainy weekend; he nominated these two recipes for Sunday supper. They're very different, but both perfect for a tired, wet night with a good bottle of wine (Rioja).
Luckily, I had a hectic weekend too, and looked at the recipes in the morning (second attempt at morning, after getting home partied-out at 5am) instead of later in the afternoon. Both of them need to be prepared in advance, and although it wasn't a great disaster, I did push the time envelopes a little; the lamb needed marinating for at least 12 hours (it got about 8) and the fritters to cool in the fridge for at least 4 hours (hurriedly shoved into the freezer for 2-3).
Fritters. Pretty darned easy: essentially an over-thick Roux with cheese etc thrown in. Neither of us (Hwngo and myself) can understand how a Roux can go wrong; there isn't much that moderating the heat and pressing the lumps out with a spoon won't fix, but it may just be that we've done it so long that we've forgotten what we're doing right. I wasn't sure how small to cut the mozarella, so I made it 1cm cubes. I worried that they were too big, but this worked okay; instead of mozarella throughout the fritters, there was a soft bite of it every so often which gave a little variety.
I don't have any small flat metal baking tins (another kitchen deficiency that I need to correct) so I put the mixture into my fluted pie dish and shoved the whole thing into the freezer to cool. When it came out circa 3 hours later, an inch wide swath of mixture around the edge was set, and the centre was still quite runny, so maybe several hours cooling would be a sensible idea. But I cut 1" squares out of it, flour-egg-breadcrumbs (Hwngo was interested to see how the flour stops the breadcrumbs from falling off) and into a pan filled with sunflower oil (to get the right heat). The result? When I first went to Prague, I found the city that I had always hoped Paris would be (but am always disappointed... well, not so much these days, but places and tastes change). When I bit into one of these fritters, I found the cheese-in-breadcrumbs that I always want deep-fried camembert to be (but am always disappointed). And deep-fried parsley is just one of those small wonders of nature; it shouldn't happen, it shouldn't work, but it does. Yummily. We both agreed that this was excellent grown-up party food; now all I have to do is move to the city, change my life and start throwing dinner parties again. Which is really quite an excellent idea. Hwngo pointed out that I'd forgotten the lemon wedges, but we were both hungry and the fritters so lovely that I don't think they would have added a huge amount to the experience. It's better than Dutch cuisine anyways (although Indonesian can be pretty good in the Netherlands).
Lamb cutlets. Another round of finding things in a big supermarket (I'd meant to go to the organic butchers but ran out of time on Saturday, and they're -sensibly- closed on Sunday) ; got the very last jar of tahini, so big points there, spent a while hunting down the Tabasco (had forgotten it was in little bottles), and bought a fuse for the Magimix. Marinade was easy: mix, pour and shove to one side. Hummus was a little more tricky; Magimix still refuses to start (it will have to go back to its makers) and my original machine did not much more than sit on the side and whine at how many beans I was asking it to mush (it went straight onto the recycling pile). There wasn't a lot more too it really, apart from cooking the cutlets for longer than I'd normally expect, to get them nicely charred (Hwngo saved my bacon - erm lamb- there) and making the result look pretty on a place. We served them with coriander, cayenne and baby plum tomatoes (I have a great weakness for good hummus mixed with flavoursome tomatoes). It was very much a dish with North African style without actually being North African; it balanced well, and would be suitable for a more intimate party (say, a 4-person dinner party with a salad-based starter and healthy dessert) than the fritters. Another competent dish, and all the better for it; something that could be enjoyed with friends but that wouldn't badly alienate the mother-in-law. And then we flumped in a corner because even we didn't have room for any dessert.
Tuesday 18 March 2008
Saturday 15 March 2008
Starting to think fit again
Being fit isn't about timed, forced exercise: going to the gym, cycling for x minutes per day etc. We do timed exercise to get fit; to be fit, we need to live that way.
Okay, I'm not making much sense here so I'll try again. Every so often, I try to get fit; I restrict my diet, I go to the gym, I make progress until some event happens that disrupts all the carefully laid plans, and suddenly I'm carrying an extra stone of weight and don't have enough energy to get to the gym.
Being fit is thinking things like "why don't I cycle over to the airport to check the baggage allowance" (not as heroic as it sounds; I live only a couple of miles away from it) instead of paying a queen's ransom for the parking (Queen's ransom: the country might not want its king back, but a king might be prepared to pay a great deal for the right queen, and it would be a brave chancellor to stop him emptying all the coffers). I've caught myself doing this a few times over the past couple of weeks; things like "hmm, I got up early, shall I cycle the long route to work" and "I'll walk it instead". That way, I think, lies true happiness...
Okay, I'm not making much sense here so I'll try again. Every so often, I try to get fit; I restrict my diet, I go to the gym, I make progress until some event happens that disrupts all the carefully laid plans, and suddenly I'm carrying an extra stone of weight and don't have enough energy to get to the gym.
Being fit is thinking things like "why don't I cycle over to the airport to check the baggage allowance" (not as heroic as it sounds; I live only a couple of miles away from it) instead of paying a queen's ransom for the parking (Queen's ransom: the country might not want its king back, but a king might be prepared to pay a great deal for the right queen, and it would be a brave chancellor to stop him emptying all the coffers). I've caught myself doing this a few times over the past couple of weeks; things like "hmm, I got up early, shall I cycle the long route to work" and "I'll walk it instead". That way, I think, lies true happiness...
Thursday 13 March 2008
Running again
Well, not so much running as advanced jogging, but I did turn up at my local running club for training yesterday.
There are running clubs everywhere; some are athletics clubs that primarily cater for people who want to run round in circles on nice dogpoo free tracks, leap over hurdles, throw pointy sticks and jump into sandpits; others are road running clubs for people who think that running 6+ miles every Wednesday is a good idea. Most clubs meet at 7pm on Wednesday. I don't know why; maybe because it's a few days away from the weekend races, maybe just because it's traditional, like Quakers meeting at 11am so they can all get home in time for lunch; most clubs also have other training days, but I'll get to that in a minute.
Anyways, my local club is mixed. Pointy sticks, sandpits, small kids whizzing in every direction and folks doing that impressively graceful I-couldn't-do-that-without-falling-over thing over hurdles. And instead of heading out onto the pavement, the road running group were out on the track as well.
Let me tell you about running times. No, you can't run away now, I've already started... Road runners (the ones who run miles on pavements rather than metres round and round a track) measure their speed by the number of minutes that they take to run a mile. A good steady plodder will run a 10-minute mile; fast runners are usually around a 5 minute mile, some people are slower (12 minute miles for the terminally unfit, i.e. me at the moment) and most people are somewhere inbetween. Most clubs have several groups going out; the main group is usually 8-minute mileing, with some slower and faster groups as appropriate. Now I knew I was in trouble when I asked the first road racer who arrived (apparently they're always late so I should fit in beautifully on that count) about the group speeds... and with a totally, take-it-to-the-bank (although that is becoming something less than a good metaphor these days) face, he told me the fast ones (including the other only girl there) were 5-minutes and the slow ones like him ran at 7 minute pace. 7! What the... I *dream* of 7-minute miles, of one day being able to run fast enough to feel like I'm floating rather than fighting to keep moving. 7!
Which is how I ended up being overtaken. Lots. Often. My first track session was... on a 400m track (400m = 1/4 mile), 3 laps slowly to warm up. Then 6 faster laps with a 50-second stop between each lap. Then the trainer (70 years old, so still a spring chicken in running terms) taking a good hard look at me and leaving me to run slowly steadily and continously until everyone else was ready to go home (and I'd done 4 1/2 miles in total rather than the 6 that was planned). Well, that went well. Not. But I'm going back. I can take humiliation, and there is no pride where getting healthy is concerned. And at least if the other b*ggers are running that much faster than me, I've always got something to aim at. Even if it is at the finishing line before I've got halfway.
And anyways, I've got out of the midweek (Monday) training session because it clashes with my needlework class. Although I strongly suspect that I might be going for a run before class anyways. I will get fit, I will get fit... meanwhile, if you're reading this and not totally put off yet, most clubs are listed on the Runners World site.
There are running clubs everywhere; some are athletics clubs that primarily cater for people who want to run round in circles on nice dogpoo free tracks, leap over hurdles, throw pointy sticks and jump into sandpits; others are road running clubs for people who think that running 6+ miles every Wednesday is a good idea. Most clubs meet at 7pm on Wednesday. I don't know why; maybe because it's a few days away from the weekend races, maybe just because it's traditional, like Quakers meeting at 11am so they can all get home in time for lunch; most clubs also have other training days, but I'll get to that in a minute.
Anyways, my local club is mixed. Pointy sticks, sandpits, small kids whizzing in every direction and folks doing that impressively graceful I-couldn't-do-that-without-falling-over thing over hurdles. And instead of heading out onto the pavement, the road running group were out on the track as well.
Let me tell you about running times. No, you can't run away now, I've already started... Road runners (the ones who run miles on pavements rather than metres round and round a track) measure their speed by the number of minutes that they take to run a mile. A good steady plodder will run a 10-minute mile; fast runners are usually around a 5 minute mile, some people are slower (12 minute miles for the terminally unfit, i.e. me at the moment) and most people are somewhere inbetween. Most clubs have several groups going out; the main group is usually 8-minute mileing, with some slower and faster groups as appropriate. Now I knew I was in trouble when I asked the first road racer who arrived (apparently they're always late so I should fit in beautifully on that count) about the group speeds... and with a totally, take-it-to-the-bank (although that is becoming something less than a good metaphor these days) face, he told me the fast ones (including the other only girl there) were 5-minutes and the slow ones like him ran at 7 minute pace. 7! What the... I *dream* of 7-minute miles, of one day being able to run fast enough to feel like I'm floating rather than fighting to keep moving. 7!
Which is how I ended up being overtaken. Lots. Often. My first track session was... on a 400m track (400m = 1/4 mile), 3 laps slowly to warm up. Then 6 faster laps with a 50-second stop between each lap. Then the trainer (70 years old, so still a spring chicken in running terms) taking a good hard look at me and leaving me to run slowly steadily and continously until everyone else was ready to go home (and I'd done 4 1/2 miles in total rather than the 6 that was planned). Well, that went well. Not. But I'm going back. I can take humiliation, and there is no pride where getting healthy is concerned. And at least if the other b*ggers are running that much faster than me, I've always got something to aim at. Even if it is at the finishing line before I've got halfway.
And anyways, I've got out of the midweek (Monday) training session because it clashes with my needlework class. Although I strongly suspect that I might be going for a run before class anyways. I will get fit, I will get fit... meanwhile, if you're reading this and not totally put off yet, most clubs are listed on the Runners World site.
Thursday 6 March 2008
2008 exercise plan
I now have a set of fitness goals for the year. And just for posterity/ so people can laught at me at the end of the year, they're:
Okay, I've also knocked up an exercise plan that fits (as far as possible) into the rest of my life and gives me that all-important rest day every week (ironically it's today, even though I didn't purposely plan it that way!). So...
- Get below 165lbs on the scales (and to 155 if I can).
- Push the whole stack on the leg press machine.
- Get bike to 30mph (without hills, following winds, and for a reasonable period of time).
- Walk a 25-mile day.
- Do a 10k in under 60 minutes.
- Swim 100 lengths without stopping.
Okay, I've also knocked up an exercise plan that fits (as far as possible) into the rest of my life and gives me that all-important rest day every week (ironically it's today, even though I didn't purposely plan it that way!). So...
- monday: run lunchtime, cycle to work, weights in evening
- tuesday: cycle to work, weights&swim in evening
- wednesday: cycle to work, run in evening
- thursday: cycle to work (optional); rest day (am diving in the evening)
- friday: walk/cycle in afternoon (leave work at lunchtime on friday); weights&swim in evening
- saturday: run/weights morning, cycle all day (optional, depending on shopping trips etc)
- sunday: walk/cycle all day
1 recipe: Smoked Haddock Baked with Potatoes (p?)
First difference between book versions spotted! I cooked this using Hwngo's book (first edition hardback, well-thumbed and -ahem- slightly foxed with various food products, aka much loved...) . My version suggests removing the fish bones with tweezers; his doesn't (I didn't; the chances of finding tweezers in a batchelor pad are... well, quite good actually, but I didn't want to ask...).I'm starting to think that West Sussex is deeply conservative/ old-fashioned. Again I had problems finding good fish, so I went to the fish man at Tesco's yesterday lunchtime (he knows his halibut); no smoked haddock because he tends to get this in at the end of the week. I can only conclude that there are either a lot of weekend Simon cookbook users in the area, or there are still lots of people here eating fish on a Friday. Anyways, 3 packs of the thickest lumps of fish I could find later...
There are 3 layers of potatoes in this recipe and not a lot of cooking time (1 hour in total), so slice the potatoes very thin (mine were about 1mm) or risk having them crunchy at the end. I bought a whole bag of parsley but only used half of it; the recipe would have coped well with all of it. I overpoached the fish slightly and had a long job removing the skins; 15 minutes poaching instead of 20-25 would have made this an easier job and left the fish a little less flaky.
The layers worked well but I forgot to put potatoes on last and ended up with some decorative tomato slices on top. This didn't really make a difference, aside from putting some colour in the (yummy) brown crust. The result was edible. Not the most spectacular-tasting Simon so far, but a dependable cold-evening recipe nonetheless.
Hwngo made one of his excellent rhubarb crumbles. He says it's easy to make, but I think that really translates to 'easy to make if you have years of cooking experience'.
Tuesday 4 March 2008
Gardening News
A snottogram from the council last week; I have 4 weeks to tidy my plot or lose it. Now I agree with keeping the plots cultivated, growing vegetables etc, but it's still winter. It's cold out, there's no planting to be done and even the slugs are fast asleep. Luckily Hwngo came over and did some sterling rotavating work last weekend, so my (our?) conscience is clear. Maybe the letter's just the council's version of an annual "wake up, you need to start digging your potato beds" call. Whatever.Speaking of potatoes, I'm chitting. Well, they are, and with very little help from me; chitting really just consists of standing a bagful of spuds on their ends in the light and warm until nice strong shoots shoot(please pardon pun, is late) out of their ends. And then, when they're big and strong, the potatoes go into the ground and come out a few months later as kit-form dinner. I have a bag each of Charlotte (yummy last year), Red Duke of York and Epicure; the Red Duke of York are already close to being ready to plant (see photo). And if someone steals my potato crop again, I shall be very very cross and consider spiking the bed with Scoville-rated surprises.
But next I need to build my first raised beds and sort out a bed plan and planting schedule. Because my house is dark (trees), I can't bring my seeds on early, but I'll still need to start planting them from the end of this month. In this year's packs are:
* Continental salad blend (sow march-sept)
* Chicory Orchidea Rossa (sow feb-aug)
* Chicory Variegata Di Castelfranco (plant feb-aug)
* Shallot Zebrune (plant feb-apr)
* Tomatillo Purple de Milpa (plant feb-apr)
* Carrot Purple Haze (plant apr-july)
* Tomato Black Cherry (plant feb-apr)
* Climbing bean Blauhilde (plant apr-july)
* Dwarf bean Purple Teepee (plant apr-july)
* Broccoli Rudolph (plant apr-june)
* Pak Choy (plant apr-july)
* Climbing french bean (plant apr-july)
* Chicory Agena (plant July-Aug)
* French sorrel Rumex Scutatus (plant mar-apr, 2 packs)
* Cos lettuce Marshall (plant mar-july)
* Sweet pea Fragrant Skies (plant Jan-May; because it's nice to have some flowers in the veg patch)
And yes, many of those vegetables are black...
1 recipe: onion tart (P136); 1 rotw: millionaire shortbread; 1 experiment: arab-style sweetmeats
First, the shortbread. From a Guardian recipe, and a special request from Hwngo in return for starting running again. 1 square = 1 40-minute run. Which means I'll either go shortbreadless or have to fit a run in sometime tomorrow.It is almost impossible to buy unsalted peanuts after 7pm here: Sainsbury and Tescos both nada. I wonder why: is it a response to increasing peanut allergies, or the perceived unhealthiness of this very fatty nut? In the end, I resorted to buying salted peanuts and soaking them in water until they didn't taste of salt anymore.
I have learnt a few things from this recipe. You can beat up peanuts in a pestle and mortar reasonably successfully (the magimix is unwell and I keep forgetting to buy it a new fuse) . The base expands to about twice its original size and smells truly deeply disgusting when it first comes out of the oven (but only for about half an hour), and it's a bad idea to slip and drop most of a can of cold cream into a panful of hot sugar. I think there may be toffee lumps in my caramel; the not-so-innocent should be warned...
The experiment worked nicely. I had some leftover pastry from the onion tart (more soon), some dates and apples hanging around and some grated pistachios (yes, really; from a Greek supermarket in North London) in the cupboard. Thin slice and dice the apples, rough chop and de-stone the dates, mix with some lemon juice and a little sugar, then divide the mix out into small pastry cases (think exotic mince pies). Bake at 180 for about 20-25 minutes, then devour because you've been so excited about cooking that you've forgotten to eat supper. Relax.
The onion tart is meant to be a surprise but of course won't be if Hwngo reads this before I arrive. I thought it best to take extra supplies (am doing Smoked Haddock Baked with Potatoes and Cream tomorrow) lest the poor thing have to suffer his own gourmet cooking. I mean, chocolate, cream and butter could happen. Oh. They already have. Whoops.
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