Sunday 15 November 2009
Wednesday 29 July 2009
Now I really have seen it all... Bacon Brownies
http://bacontoday.com/bacon-brownies/
It's so dodgy, I'm even tempted to give it a try. With a proper brownie recipe, of course...
...it's now this weekend's cooking project. We're basing it on Jamie's brownie recipe, with all the nutty etc bits taken out. All we need now is some unsmoked, unsalted bacon...
It's so dodgy, I'm even tempted to give it a try. With a proper brownie recipe, of course...
...it's now this weekend's cooking project. We're basing it on Jamie's brownie recipe, with all the nutty etc bits taken out. All we need now is some unsmoked, unsalted bacon...
Tuesday 28 July 2009
Roasted vegetables
1. Go to local supermarket early, and discover they've just marked down all the vegetables.
2. Buy lots of vegetables: peppers, mini tomatoes, courgettes are all good (even when you already have courgettes ripening at home).
3. Slice courgettes and peppers; lay on baking trays. Liberally distribute tomatoes all over trays. Follow with drizzles of olive oil.
4. Stuff in oven at 200F. Go do something else, and forget about oven for two hours.
5. Switch off oven, inspect char-grilled contents and eat. Can also be added to recipes (for that authentic smokey flavour).
6. Go 'yum'.
2. Buy lots of vegetables: peppers, mini tomatoes, courgettes are all good (even when you already have courgettes ripening at home).
3. Slice courgettes and peppers; lay on baking trays. Liberally distribute tomatoes all over trays. Follow with drizzles of olive oil.
4. Stuff in oven at 200F. Go do something else, and forget about oven for two hours.
5. Switch off oven, inspect char-grilled contents and eat. Can also be added to recipes (for that authentic smokey flavour).
6. Go 'yum'.
Middle-eastern night
Hwsgo and I are currently a bit post-viral, so to up our energy levels, we're both on the (give or take a curry and naan) CFS immune-system-assisting diet. Which is basically a caeliac (or even a yeast-free) diet designed to put as little stress as possible on us by cutting out wheat, sugar, dairy and alcohol (amongst other things).
And boy do I remember that first panic of "what the heck do I eat" when I went on this diet years ago (as part of the plan to clear my ME). I mean, breakfast. Hwsgo mailed me the first morning, having noticed that everything he eats for breakfast is off the list (and he *hates* porridge oats)... but cheered up when I told him that bacon and eggs (but no ketchup) were okay. But that done, that left the even trickier question of "what do you feed an unwell (and therefore v bored) foodie on a caeliac diet". I went to the local health food shop for inspiration (and some sugar-free chocolate: it does exist, just look for xylitol in the ingredients) - all the things that I used to eat were way-out hippy, and therefore, to a foodie, completely yuck. Anything brown - ditto. Wholegrain - ditto. Maize - the same.
The answer, my friends, is very traditional: it's meat and vegetables. Eggs. Rice. Lentils. Goat's cheese. Basically, a 1970s evening diet without the chicken kiev (contains flour). And you have no idea just how quickly that can become boring...
...hence the mediterranian evening. Making home-made hummus (no dairy; tastes much better if you warm it in the pan instead of eating it raw), and vegetable couscous. Except I've just checked the label and discovered that couscous is wheat-based. Ho-hum. Back to the rice again... anything but spending the next week writing horizontally...
And boy do I remember that first panic of "what the heck do I eat" when I went on this diet years ago (as part of the plan to clear my ME). I mean, breakfast. Hwsgo mailed me the first morning, having noticed that everything he eats for breakfast is off the list (and he *hates* porridge oats)... but cheered up when I told him that bacon and eggs (but no ketchup) were okay. But that done, that left the even trickier question of "what do you feed an unwell (and therefore v bored) foodie on a caeliac diet". I went to the local health food shop for inspiration (and some sugar-free chocolate: it does exist, just look for xylitol in the ingredients) - all the things that I used to eat were way-out hippy, and therefore, to a foodie, completely yuck. Anything brown - ditto. Wholegrain - ditto. Maize - the same.
The answer, my friends, is very traditional: it's meat and vegetables. Eggs. Rice. Lentils. Goat's cheese. Basically, a 1970s evening diet without the chicken kiev (contains flour). And you have no idea just how quickly that can become boring...
...hence the mediterranian evening. Making home-made hummus (no dairy; tastes much better if you warm it in the pan instead of eating it raw), and vegetable couscous. Except I've just checked the label and discovered that couscous is wheat-based. Ho-hum. Back to the rice again... anything but spending the next week writing horizontally...
Saturday 18 July 2009
Cooking today
A bizarra accident photo involving a chihuahua and a barbeque fork set me wondering about the bizarre accident figures on this most summery of cooking methods (and no, that doesn't include burning the tips of two fingers turning the sausages over). There really *is* something for everyone on the intranet... the relevant report is available here. It's a wonderful study in stating the bleeding obvious - for instance, most bbq accidents occur in the garden... and there are two major clusters of accidents: boys under 7 burning their hands whilst playing in the garden, and men in their 20s and 30s burning their upper bodies (with a possible contibuting factor from alcohol consumption). Strangely, more women than men get injured by BBQs in the US, but this is probably because american blokes feel less of a primal need to light fires and cook mammoth in the open air.
Useful point for the day: charcoal bbqs give off carbon monoxide. Which kills people if they use BBQs inside. So don't do it, okay? Have a happy summer...
Useful point for the day: charcoal bbqs give off carbon monoxide. Which kills people if they use BBQs inside. So don't do it, okay? Have a happy summer...
Tuesday 7 July 2009
Acai
Okay, so like everyone else in the blogosphere, I seem to be plagued by adverts about how wonderful acai is for dieting. Which after a little light investigation reveals several companies running a terrible scam where £10 worth of tablets is somehow converted into hundreds of pounds being taken off the desperate and the desperately-poor, just because they didn't *very carefully* read all the small print. But I wondered if there was something in this acai thing, so I've been to Holland & Barrett and bought myself some acai, some aloe vera and some stuff made from seeds to see if it has any noticable effect. Nothing so far, unless you count ten minutes of wind.
As for dieting, I've found that the easiest way to lose weight is to listen to my partner. Much as it pains me to say it, Hwsgo is right - cutting out all sugar (the white stuff, and anything that includes "sugar" in its ingredients list) does seem to be having the desired effect, i.e. half a stone going south in little over a week so far (it won't last, hence the acai...). What is fascinating (to me at least) is just how many 'diet' foods have sugar in their ingredients. Talk about securing your market!
As for dieting, I've found that the easiest way to lose weight is to listen to my partner. Much as it pains me to say it, Hwsgo is right - cutting out all sugar (the white stuff, and anything that includes "sugar" in its ingredients list) does seem to be having the desired effect, i.e. half a stone going south in little over a week so far (it won't last, hence the acai...). What is fascinating (to me at least) is just how many 'diet' foods have sugar in their ingredients. Talk about securing your market!
Saturday 6 June 2009
4 miles and some new shoes
4.27 miles, to be precise. I forgot my running shoes this weekend (along with almost everything else that I needed for the weekend - basically have my cycling kit, a laptop and the clothes I'm standing up in), and it was time anyways, so it was down to Runners Need for a new pair. Times have changed a bit since the chaps passed you several pairs of shoes, then watched your gait as you ran up and down the road outside the shop: now it's all treadmills and video cameras on your feet. Which is quite scary really : I had no idea that I turned my ankles in quite so much - almost 90 degrees much in the case of my right foot, not quite so bad on my left. But lovely to be able to see how quickly that could be corrected, just by choosing the right running shoe. Which is a men's Brooks Adrenaline GTS 9 in a size 7.5.
Now you might have thought that running was a cheap sport. You get into your trainers, go out on the street - no membership fees, no price-per-run. It's not. As soon as you start running distance - and by distance I mean anything over about 15 miles a week - you're into serious shoe money, of the sort that only my girlfriends shopping in Covent Garden can equal. The Adrenalines were £85, and to keep my feet safe, I now need to replace them every 3 or 4 months. Which is roughly equal to a deal on a gym subscription: £28 per month (my works gym is £15, but that's subsidised). Then there's race fees (because you can't run for long before wondering what it's like to run in company agaist the clock), which are admittedly partly offset by the free t-shirts that most of them give out, although a love of bright colours seems to be important for this right now. And then there's the Runners World magazine habit, and all the detritus that seems to come with running distance - the funny-shaped water bottles, runners pouches, lightweight jackets etc. None of which I bregrudge - I'm just sticking to the trainer tax (and there are ways to make those cheaper: Adrenaline 9s are £76.50 at wiggle, Adrenaline 8s were £40 at prodirectrugby.com and so on - basically, go back one version at the right time and you can get your shoes for roughly half price) and race fees for now.
So, having bought my trainers, I needed somewhere to christen them, and it's only a week to the Bluewater 10k, so I really do need to go out and pound those pavements. D duly threw me out for a run that we'd mapped, discussed, planned on a 3-mile route that even I couldn't get lost on. I got lost. It involved a park with activity stations - I found a park with activity stations, but this being London and London being full of parks, it was the wrong one. Never mind - I ran round, made a guess at the right way home, checked a local bus-stop map and miraculously (for me) set off in the right direction. Running verdict? Right knee blew out again (swelled up during the run and had to be manipulated back into the right place relative to my leg) but no other problems with the shoes - feet v. comfortable in them. Run quite a fun one through some well-mixed urban terrain - projects to city farm and victorian ornamental park. Could have run on for a mile or two, but not sure about anything longer than that - will have to work hard before I can start to attempt the underround seriously.
Now you might have thought that running was a cheap sport. You get into your trainers, go out on the street - no membership fees, no price-per-run. It's not. As soon as you start running distance - and by distance I mean anything over about 15 miles a week - you're into serious shoe money, of the sort that only my girlfriends shopping in Covent Garden can equal. The Adrenalines were £85, and to keep my feet safe, I now need to replace them every 3 or 4 months. Which is roughly equal to a deal on a gym subscription: £28 per month (my works gym is £15, but that's subsidised). Then there's race fees (because you can't run for long before wondering what it's like to run in company agaist the clock), which are admittedly partly offset by the free t-shirts that most of them give out, although a love of bright colours seems to be important for this right now. And then there's the Runners World magazine habit, and all the detritus that seems to come with running distance - the funny-shaped water bottles, runners pouches, lightweight jackets etc. None of which I bregrudge - I'm just sticking to the trainer tax (and there are ways to make those cheaper: Adrenaline 9s are £76.50 at wiggle, Adrenaline 8s were £40 at prodirectrugby.com and so on - basically, go back one version at the right time and you can get your shoes for roughly half price) and race fees for now.
So, having bought my trainers, I needed somewhere to christen them, and it's only a week to the Bluewater 10k, so I really do need to go out and pound those pavements. D duly threw me out for a run that we'd mapped, discussed, planned on a 3-mile route that even I couldn't get lost on. I got lost. It involved a park with activity stations - I found a park with activity stations, but this being London and London being full of parks, it was the wrong one. Never mind - I ran round, made a guess at the right way home, checked a local bus-stop map and miraculously (for me) set off in the right direction. Running verdict? Right knee blew out again (swelled up during the run and had to be manipulated back into the right place relative to my leg) but no other problems with the shoes - feet v. comfortable in them. Run quite a fun one through some well-mixed urban terrain - projects to city farm and victorian ornamental park. Could have run on for a mile or two, but not sure about anything longer than that - will have to work hard before I can start to attempt the underround seriously.
Oh stupidity (but fun) - the Underround
A runner of my acquaintance (okay, it's Kevin from the office) has challenged me to the Underround. It's a marathon. For fell runners. Who live in London. Actually, it's inspired: use the stairs and escalators on the underground as a fell running circuit. 24 miles, 42 stations: run between stations, then run down the stairs/escalators to the yellow line on the platform then back up to the surface again. It's probably not to be attempted during rush hour, but on a quiet Sunday...
Anyways, I have two 10ks and a 10 mile to complete before then. But I might start practicing on small or not-so-small sections of the route, just so I don't get lost (and run even further than I need to) on the day. Heck, I could start an offshoot and plot out the Underround 10k, 10 mile and half marathon...
Anyways, I have two 10ks and a 10 mile to complete before then. But I might start practicing on small or not-so-small sections of the route, just so I don't get lost (and run even further than I need to) on the day. Heck, I could start an offshoot and plot out the Underround 10k, 10 mile and half marathon...
Wednesday 3 June 2009
Fat burn at last!
A small training note today, so I remember this. Another 3 mile run this morning. It's a boring run, but the roundabouts mean that I know the exact mileage when something significant happens. And this morning, the fat-burning started. I haven't felt the dip then rise of the switch from food-burn to fat-burn for -erm- possibly a year or two now (it usually happens dead on 2 miles at a 10-minute-mile pace), but this morning it happened. The first half mile was horrible: leaden, slow, headachy (beer and chinese last night - hangover guaranteed), the next couple okay, but then I slowed down at mile two. Leaden, heavy, difficult to push through until, at 2 and a quarter miles, I suddenly picked up and started running smoothly again. Which felt good - as though I was flowing across the pavement, rather than thudding my feet on the long grind across it. I even put in a small sprint finish, just to feel the joy of getting my limbs to move as fast as they could - which admittedly isn't terribly fast, but it's fast enough to feel good.
Monday 1 June 2009
First run
First run for ages this morning. A 3-mile there-and-back run: 2 mile there and back, then 1 mile there and back, all distances marked with convenient roundabouts. It's boring, but it works: it gives me a set of timed distances that I can lengthen or shorten as I wish. And therein lies a potential problem. The cheat options on a round route are more limited: walk, take a short cut, turn back on yourself. But on a there-and-back, there's a continual negotiation about just how far the run needs to be today... I had the talk with myself at 1/2 mile ("could just do a mile") and 1.5 miles ("could just do two").
But I did do the whole run, because there's a lot of truth in the saying "the road to hell...". Haven't you ever wodnered why there are so many fat swimmers and dog walkers out there? You know that they do regular exercise, but somehow they just don't get any thinner. Well, that's been happening to me recently. And the trouble is that doing exercise is not the same as doing enough exercise. I can run a mile in the morning and tell myself that I've been running, but I haven't really. No, really. I've do 10 minutes of kidding myself that 10 minutes is enough to make me thin and sexy again. What I need to do is run regularly, and run long enough to kick into fat-burning, which in my case is about 40 minutes of strong exercise, i.e. about 60 minutes of the gentle trot that I did this morning. That's why I always seem to lose weight from races: it's not the race adrenalin, but the distances (10k, 10 miles) that does it. This also applies to cycling (less than 20 miles is a nice little ride, or training for doing more than 20 miles), swimming (what do you mean, 'rest at the end for a while'?) and going to the gym (if you're not moving, you're not training, no matter how pretty you look posed there in a leotard). All of which is horribly dispiriting when you actually start to train, because for a long time the short runs are all you're capable of doing. But like all these things, it's a long game. And thin fitness comes to she who waits. As long as she's moving plenty whilst she's doing that waiting.
But I did do the whole run, because there's a lot of truth in the saying "the road to hell...". Haven't you ever wodnered why there are so many fat swimmers and dog walkers out there? You know that they do regular exercise, but somehow they just don't get any thinner. Well, that's been happening to me recently. And the trouble is that doing exercise is not the same as doing enough exercise. I can run a mile in the morning and tell myself that I've been running, but I haven't really. No, really. I've do 10 minutes of kidding myself that 10 minutes is enough to make me thin and sexy again. What I need to do is run regularly, and run long enough to kick into fat-burning, which in my case is about 40 minutes of strong exercise, i.e. about 60 minutes of the gentle trot that I did this morning. That's why I always seem to lose weight from races: it's not the race adrenalin, but the distances (10k, 10 miles) that does it. This also applies to cycling (less than 20 miles is a nice little ride, or training for doing more than 20 miles), swimming (what do you mean, 'rest at the end for a while'?) and going to the gym (if you're not moving, you're not training, no matter how pretty you look posed there in a leotard). All of which is horribly dispiriting when you actually start to train, because for a long time the short runs are all you're capable of doing. But like all these things, it's a long game. And thin fitness comes to she who waits. As long as she's moving plenty whilst she's doing that waiting.
Sunday 5 April 2009
Jamie said cook... fish
Hwsgo cooked for me again. I'm not sure if he's being nice about the damaged wrist, or just terrified at the thought of my cooking, but once again he scurried round my kitchen making delicious things out of everyday green and vegetal stuff that usually just sits in the fridge and glowers at me for a week (what can I say: I've been busy working til late every day).
So today's dinner was stuffed, rolled and baked sardines with pine nuts and fresh herbs. Or rather, it was stuffed, rolled etc mackeral with etc etc because my local supermarkets have still not got their act together on the fish front. Again. So having looked at the beautifully displayed set of less-than-appetising swimmers in Sainsbury's (which is probably as good a metaphor for style over substance as we'll get this week), we trotted off into the place whose name we omit. Which to be fair has a good fish counter, with non-sunken eyes and a lady on it who was both civil and helpful about what we could substitute because they (and she was genuinely apologetic about this) didn't have any fresh sardines. So four little mackeral heavier, we went home to cook. Or rather Hwsgo went home to cook: I went home to watch the master at work and look helpful in the hope of being allowed to wield a big knife at something soft.
Hswgo modifed the recipe a bit. He'd been baking some glowering tomatoes that had been rapidly reaching the too-soft-to-fight state of their existence, so he used some of these, in the recipe, removing their skins because they were a bit too hot to handle. He also left out the garlic (I think) and the fennel (definitely), and toasted some fresh bread because its breadcrumbs were too soft. One cooking note though: since the mixture goes underneath the fish, it makes sense to prepare the mix before the fish instead of the order (fish first) suggested in the book.
Anyways, this all produced a most excellent lunch, evidenced perhaps by the complete lack of leftovers afterwards (and the lethargy with which we crawled from the table to the sofa to doze). Hwsgo told me a while ago about a Sicilian dish that he'd like to try sometime, and fromt he comments he made about this, it sounds like the Jamie fish recipe (modified) was very similar to it. It was, of course, delicious, and I suspect that Hwsgo was very wise in holding on the fennel: as it was, it was a perfectly balanced set of ingredients having a very civilised Sunday lunch together.
So today's dinner was stuffed, rolled and baked sardines with pine nuts and fresh herbs. Or rather, it was stuffed, rolled etc mackeral with etc etc because my local supermarkets have still not got their act together on the fish front. Again. So having looked at the beautifully displayed set of less-than-appetising swimmers in Sainsbury's (which is probably as good a metaphor for style over substance as we'll get this week), we trotted off into the place whose name we omit. Which to be fair has a good fish counter, with non-sunken eyes and a lady on it who was both civil and helpful about what we could substitute because they (and she was genuinely apologetic about this) didn't have any fresh sardines. So four little mackeral heavier, we went home to cook. Or rather Hwsgo went home to cook: I went home to watch the master at work and look helpful in the hope of being allowed to wield a big knife at something soft.
Hswgo modifed the recipe a bit. He'd been baking some glowering tomatoes that had been rapidly reaching the too-soft-to-fight state of their existence, so he used some of these, in the recipe, removing their skins because they were a bit too hot to handle. He also left out the garlic (I think) and the fennel (definitely), and toasted some fresh bread because its breadcrumbs were too soft. One cooking note though: since the mixture goes underneath the fish, it makes sense to prepare the mix before the fish instead of the order (fish first) suggested in the book.
Anyways, this all produced a most excellent lunch, evidenced perhaps by the complete lack of leftovers afterwards (and the lethargy with which we crawled from the table to the sofa to doze). Hwsgo told me a while ago about a Sicilian dish that he'd like to try sometime, and fromt he comments he made about this, it sounds like the Jamie fish recipe (modified) was very similar to it. It was, of course, delicious, and I suspect that Hwsgo was very wise in holding on the fennel: as it was, it was a perfectly balanced set of ingredients having a very civilised Sunday lunch together.
Monday 30 March 2009
Key Lime... er Crumble
Hwsgo has been innovative in the kitchen. Perhaps my "try it and see" style of cooking is rubbing off on him after all. Anyways, he found himself without a lemon (a terrible sin in his household) whilst making an apple crumble, and substituted it with a lime instead.
It's quite a revelation. All the liminess of a key lime pie, but underlaid with the sweet crunch of a proper British crumble. It wouldn't work with nuts in the crumble mix, but with a 'normal' Jamie Oliver 8:4:3 (flour:butter:sugar) mix, it works intriguingly well. Although stewing the apples with a little water seems to have left the results a little on the damp side, it's a very tasty damp side.
Go, innovation, go!
It's quite a revelation. All the liminess of a key lime pie, but underlaid with the sweet crunch of a proper British crumble. It wouldn't work with nuts in the crumble mix, but with a 'normal' Jamie Oliver 8:4:3 (flour:butter:sugar) mix, it works intriguingly well. Although stewing the apples with a little water seems to have left the results a little on the damp side, it's a very tasty damp side.
Go, innovation, go!
Sunday 15 March 2009
Seedlings
I have delivered lots of seedlings to Hwsgo. They may die, but they probably won't. Apart from the Basil, which is midway through a typical basil sulk that it may or may not recover from. We really need an amalgum of our two homes: mine has radiators, double-glazing and big windowsills, but Hwsgo's has lots of light. Heat, light, water, food: doesn't take much to make a plant grow, but it's surprisingly difficult to get all these things in the same place.
Plants delivered are (so Hwsgo doesn't forget what he has): rocket (currently under debate), parsley (the stuff that looks like grass), coriander (2 types in 1 pot), basil, and sunflowers and sweetpeas for colour. I'm taking the chilli and lobelia back home for a bit more heat treatment, and I have tomatoes and tarragon still under observation there at the moment. Now I have empty windowsills, I'm tempted to grow on something more. A pot of strong mint would be good, some more coriander (can never have emough of that), and some more herbs seems about right. I already have carrot and radish seeds waiting to be put into veg buckets at home - will see how I do with them too. It's just a shame that my garden is too dark to grow much in it (neighbour: big trees). One day I'll move somewhere lighter.
Plants delivered are (so Hwsgo doesn't forget what he has): rocket (currently under debate), parsley (the stuff that looks like grass), coriander (2 types in 1 pot), basil, and sunflowers and sweetpeas for colour. I'm taking the chilli and lobelia back home for a bit more heat treatment, and I have tomatoes and tarragon still under observation there at the moment. Now I have empty windowsills, I'm tempted to grow on something more. A pot of strong mint would be good, some more coriander (can never have emough of that), and some more herbs seems about right. I already have carrot and radish seeds waiting to be put into veg buckets at home - will see how I do with them too. It's just a shame that my garden is too dark to grow much in it (neighbour: big trees). One day I'll move somewhere lighter.
Simon: Omelette Arnold Bennett (p195, 89, 187)
A complicated recipe. Oh boy, is this a complicated one. Not because the steps involved are complex in their own right, but because of the sheer number of things that you have to do at the same time. Although I suspect this can be simplified in practice: maybe we were just in a complicated mood.
The recipe uses two sauces, bechamel and hollandaise, mixed together. First, you have to find the sauces in the book: use the numbers above because the ones in the recipe don't work. And try to do things in order: the bechamel needs 30 minutes to steep, so do that then start poaching the fish, then make up the hollandaise. Yesterday, I messed up - we were cooking this as a two-hander, Hwsgo was around the hob, and my confidence as a saucier just went. I turned the heat up too high, didn't stop early enough, and the egg part of the hollandaise started to go scrambled. A trip downstairs to buy more butter and ten minutes later I'd produced an okay sauce, but it really wasn't a good moment for me. I guess, like transplanting seedlings, it takes a degree of concentration and sympathy for the thing being handled.
There's a lot of seasoning in this recipe (in each sauce and in the omelette mix too), so you need to be careful with the salt: it's easy to overdo it. There's also a lot of stuff going on at once, although having cooked this recipe, I see no reason why the sauces couldn't be made well in advance, leaving just the fish and egg mix to be concentrated on.
The omelettes are tasty and we enjoyed eating them, but we both agreed in the end that given the amount of work (and number of pans) involved, there are many other Simons that we'd rather have eaten for dinner. This recipe is definitely filed under "things that we're happy to buy in restaurants rather than making ourselves".
The recipe uses two sauces, bechamel and hollandaise, mixed together. First, you have to find the sauces in the book: use the numbers above because the ones in the recipe don't work. And try to do things in order: the bechamel needs 30 minutes to steep, so do that then start poaching the fish, then make up the hollandaise. Yesterday, I messed up - we were cooking this as a two-hander, Hwsgo was around the hob, and my confidence as a saucier just went. I turned the heat up too high, didn't stop early enough, and the egg part of the hollandaise started to go scrambled. A trip downstairs to buy more butter and ten minutes later I'd produced an okay sauce, but it really wasn't a good moment for me. I guess, like transplanting seedlings, it takes a degree of concentration and sympathy for the thing being handled.
There's a lot of seasoning in this recipe (in each sauce and in the omelette mix too), so you need to be careful with the salt: it's easy to overdo it. There's also a lot of stuff going on at once, although having cooked this recipe, I see no reason why the sauces couldn't be made well in advance, leaving just the fish and egg mix to be concentrated on.
The omelettes are tasty and we enjoyed eating them, but we both agreed in the end that given the amount of work (and number of pans) involved, there are many other Simons that we'd rather have eaten for dinner. This recipe is definitely filed under "things that we're happy to buy in restaurants rather than making ourselves".
Monday 9 February 2009
Simon: Onion Soup (p137)
So the first question is "why is it white". Or rather, "why isn't it brown". After a little cookbook-riffling from Hwsgo, the answer was clear: french onion soup is, as we suspected, brown because the onions are caramelised in a little sugar.For a while, when I was working regularly in France, I searched hypermarches and small shops alike for a white French soup, possibly garlic, that my father had eaten there and wanted more of if he could get it. I think, on tasting, that this may be the soup in question. Despite the fact that I had, in a slightly wine-enhanced state, halved every quantity in the recipe except the white wine vinegar, this soup had a delicacy that seemed divorced from its origins as a pile of onions, a tub of chicken stock and some ordinary butter. Most of the time, the ingredients of said soup sat around doing their stuff (sweating, simmering, resting) during dinner: the only really active part of the recipe involved squishing them through a large sieve to remove the (now-exhausted) pieces of onion. And that, apart from a little discussion over just how high a heat a soup should be simmering on (Hwsgo seems to be amongst those cooks who manage to produce amazing things despite believing that there are only 2 settings on each cooker ring, i.e. low and blast it), was about all the attention that it needed.
So. A white, onionless, French onion soup. Absolutely delicious (under the over-vinegaring), especially with the giant cheesy croutons (gruyere is good) that Hswgo prepared for it, and one I'm going to try again soon (and not just because I have a glut of onions in the kitchen).
Saturday 24 January 2009
More shopping
Back now, from a trip to Cambodia (food yum) and Thailand (food also good, but not quite as yum as Cambodia) with a brief stop in Cairo (coffee good, food an interesting combination of sweet and savoury) and back to the weekly shop and attempts to (mostly) feed myself without either a) getting fatter, or b) creating things that even I don't want to eat. That, and continuing with the attempt to eat more fruit and veg.
And so to shopping. Two people, two shopping trolleys, two weekly shops. And for once, just once, I win! Hwsgo's veg to other food ratio was appalling - around 1:1 (under hot debate); mine, on the other hand, was a virtuous 16:6 (and that's only because the new potatoes and peppercorns both count as non-veg). That's 2.6 to 1.
Now I need to cook it. It's Saturday, and being a good slobby Saturday (give or take an hour's happy walk around the park), it's roast chicken and vegetables night. I've also been taking stock in my food cupboards - it's still January, and I have several things in the cupboards that didn't get eaten last year that I'm planning to eat up soon so they don't take up any more cupboard or (more importantly) head space when I'm working out what to eat. Some things (pickles, japanese ginger) will go into my lunchbox. Others will be part of specific meals. The jar of lentils will become Simon's lentilles aux petites salles and one of Jane Grigson's stock lentil dishes. The linseed will find its way into anything I can safely hide it in (like veg chilli): I've always seen it more as medicament than food anyway. The Mister Mash is self-explanatory, maybe used for a very lazy day. And the two boxes of specialised stuffing (cranberry and orange etc) will be mixed up with veg and stuffed into some baked peppers. The Thai basil leaves will end up in something suitably thai curried; the truffles, saffron etc will just stay in as stock cupboard items. The bocadelia sandwich paste that my parents brought back from Spain (on a small mixup between bocadillos, e.g. sandwiches, and boquerones, the fat little anchovies) will go into sandwiches and baked potatoes. And at that point, my cupboards will hopefully be optimised. Well almost. I'm not sure what to do with a large pot of Horlicks (although I should sleep well if I drink it), and that just leaves the large bag of chilli flakes and 5 different types of sugar (tea and coffee-drinkers keep leaving sugar in my cupboards). I'm sure I'll think of something.
Meanwhile, a small note to self. If, as today, I use the Jane Grigson recipe for Hummus, I need to remember to halve all the quantities except the chickpeas. I think she quotes the chickpeas at dry weight, rather than canned weight - if you try the recipe as set with canned peas, you end up with a very garlicky and unfortunately quite runny (til your partner throws in a bag of walnuts) mix. Also if you put the parsley into the mixer, then don't be surprised if the mix comes out green and looking suspiciously like pesto. Tasted okay though.
And so to shopping. Two people, two shopping trolleys, two weekly shops. And for once, just once, I win! Hwsgo's veg to other food ratio was appalling - around 1:1 (under hot debate); mine, on the other hand, was a virtuous 16:6 (and that's only because the new potatoes and peppercorns both count as non-veg). That's 2.6 to 1.
Now I need to cook it. It's Saturday, and being a good slobby Saturday (give or take an hour's happy walk around the park), it's roast chicken and vegetables night. I've also been taking stock in my food cupboards - it's still January, and I have several things in the cupboards that didn't get eaten last year that I'm planning to eat up soon so they don't take up any more cupboard or (more importantly) head space when I'm working out what to eat. Some things (pickles, japanese ginger) will go into my lunchbox. Others will be part of specific meals. The jar of lentils will become Simon's lentilles aux petites salles and one of Jane Grigson's stock lentil dishes. The linseed will find its way into anything I can safely hide it in (like veg chilli): I've always seen it more as medicament than food anyway. The Mister Mash is self-explanatory, maybe used for a very lazy day. And the two boxes of specialised stuffing (cranberry and orange etc) will be mixed up with veg and stuffed into some baked peppers. The Thai basil leaves will end up in something suitably thai curried; the truffles, saffron etc will just stay in as stock cupboard items. The bocadelia sandwich paste that my parents brought back from Spain (on a small mixup between bocadillos, e.g. sandwiches, and boquerones, the fat little anchovies) will go into sandwiches and baked potatoes. And at that point, my cupboards will hopefully be optimised. Well almost. I'm not sure what to do with a large pot of Horlicks (although I should sleep well if I drink it), and that just leaves the large bag of chilli flakes and 5 different types of sugar (tea and coffee-drinkers keep leaving sugar in my cupboards). I'm sure I'll think of something.
Meanwhile, a small note to self. If, as today, I use the Jane Grigson recipe for Hummus, I need to remember to halve all the quantities except the chickpeas. I think she quotes the chickpeas at dry weight, rather than canned weight - if you try the recipe as set with canned peas, you end up with a very garlicky and unfortunately quite runny (til your partner throws in a bag of walnuts) mix. Also if you put the parsley into the mixer, then don't be surprised if the mix comes out green and looking suspiciously like pesto. Tasted okay though.
Addendum. Hwsgo has counted up his trolley items (which I also photographed, but will keep hidden to protect the not-so-innocent) and claims a 1:1 ratio. Based on some out-of-shot onions and not counting the wine. Hmmmm.
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