My palate is definitely changing as I speed through the third decade of my thirties. It's clear that my taste buds are not as sensitive (and discerning?) as once they were (and I believe they are not as numerous, which somehow seems weird). Yet at the same time they appear less able to bear spicy heat.
That's not to say that I have abandoned hot foods. I hope that day never comes, as I've always loved foods with bite. Not, however, in the macho show of strength that some feel necessary - years ago I watched with awe then amusement as a very dear friend and another acquaintance ordered Phal with extra chillies. Or is that Fal? Or Phall? Or Phaal? Transliteration is a bugger. They ordered Phal. With extra chillies. After two bites their faces were purple, foreheads beaded with sweat, and within minutes you could actually see lips blistering.
In my business travel days I ate some very hot foods - soft-shelled crabs in Ipoh was one memorable feast; a Shabu Shabu in Taipei another (the stock was bright pink with chillies). That chilli heat is for me life-enhancing, a jump-start for the entire body. Which is why I never want to give it up.
The spices in your cupboard are a wonderful austerity tool. The curry about which I posted the other day proved delicious, thanks largely to the spices in it: cardamom and cumin to perfume; fenugreek and coriander seeds as a solid foundation and cassia something subtle in the background; and of course lots of pepper and some chilli for the warmth that lifts a dish and the spirits. If the lot cost 10p I would be astounded. Yet they transformed what could be extremely bland ingredients (the bulk was white fish, rice, coconut milk, onions) into something so good plates were scraped clean.
Austerity cook hat (toque - I don't think so) on: the supermarkets have shelves full of packet mixes that on a good day are 50p, generally more than £1. Schwarz keep playing tunes with pots of this, packs of that, thimbles of the other, again around the £1 mark or worse. It's a small investment to buy from the ethnic shelves half a dozen packs of whole seeds (so they will have more of their aromatic oils remaining than ground stuff) that will last a year or more, cost perhaps £6, and do 50 meals plus - you do the financial comparison. Yes you have to grind them one way or another, and it may take a few goes to get the feel of things (I still sometimes overdo pepper) but it is well worthwhile. And can be adjusted to individual dishes, and your own palate as it changes.
Friday 31 January 2014
Wednesday 29 January 2014
No Bones About It
I am an angler, at least a sea angler, and while not claiming huge technical expertise, not a bad one either. Currently I'm 50,000 words into a book on the topic, a future orphan as I've not even started looking for a publisher. I go sea fishing (almost always from boats) for innumerable reasons - buy the book if it ever gets finished, as it is more about such things than the dull minutiae of rigs and tactics - but the biggest is that we eat some of what we catch, and it's delicious.
One of the many skills I could do with honing is the art of filleting. Clumsily done it leaves too much flesh on the bones, good for stock but a bit of a waste; or leaves bones in the flesh, missing the whole point of the exercise. Supermarket fishmongers are not great at it either. Add to that the scandal about re-dating fish on those counters a year or two back and I am wary about buying their offerings. Thus I have a fondness for frozen fish: don't turn your noses up, if from a reputable source with the right green credentials it's a winner, retaining flavour and very rarely containing any bones at all. Remember Robert in the Onedin Line? Probably not. He choked on a fish bone, put off a generation of British telly watchers.
I regularly make fish chowder, like most of my cooking not so much a recipe as a few basic ideas to follow; and fish curry is another favourite. The latter is this evening's main course, the principal ingredient being the dubiously-named 'white fish fillets', actually quite nice pollock when you look further. Half a pack will provide the protein, with some onions, garlic, and for colour a bit of bell pepper. The veg are fried gently until very soft, then a freshly ground spice mix with cassia, dried chilli, pepper, cardamom, fenugreek, coriander and cumin seeds added and cooked for a minute before the still frozen fish fillets and a tin of coconut milk are put in the pan. When the fish is cooked through it's ready.
And yes it does need rice, or naan, or my homemade flatbreads, to bulk it out and soak up the juices.
Half a pack of the fish costs £1.50, the veg maybe 60p, spices bought in big packs from the ethic shelves at Sainsbury's a few more pennies, and the coconut milk from our local Chinese store 89p. So with the rice it is going to be way under £3.50 to feed three of us. I buy rice in 5kg bags, again ethnic shelf jobbies, on a price per kg basis so much cheaper than 1kg versions.
Bargains like that make me feel better about splashing out on stuff like the obligatory roast for a winter Sunday, but even in a relatively affluent household the prices of lamb and beef are getting to be eye-watering. It's almost enough to turn us vegetarian. But not quite.
One of the many skills I could do with honing is the art of filleting. Clumsily done it leaves too much flesh on the bones, good for stock but a bit of a waste; or leaves bones in the flesh, missing the whole point of the exercise. Supermarket fishmongers are not great at it either. Add to that the scandal about re-dating fish on those counters a year or two back and I am wary about buying their offerings. Thus I have a fondness for frozen fish: don't turn your noses up, if from a reputable source with the right green credentials it's a winner, retaining flavour and very rarely containing any bones at all. Remember Robert in the Onedin Line? Probably not. He choked on a fish bone, put off a generation of British telly watchers.
I regularly make fish chowder, like most of my cooking not so much a recipe as a few basic ideas to follow; and fish curry is another favourite. The latter is this evening's main course, the principal ingredient being the dubiously-named 'white fish fillets', actually quite nice pollock when you look further. Half a pack will provide the protein, with some onions, garlic, and for colour a bit of bell pepper. The veg are fried gently until very soft, then a freshly ground spice mix with cassia, dried chilli, pepper, cardamom, fenugreek, coriander and cumin seeds added and cooked for a minute before the still frozen fish fillets and a tin of coconut milk are put in the pan. When the fish is cooked through it's ready.
And yes it does need rice, or naan, or my homemade flatbreads, to bulk it out and soak up the juices.
Half a pack of the fish costs £1.50, the veg maybe 60p, spices bought in big packs from the ethic shelves at Sainsbury's a few more pennies, and the coconut milk from our local Chinese store 89p. So with the rice it is going to be way under £3.50 to feed three of us. I buy rice in 5kg bags, again ethnic shelf jobbies, on a price per kg basis so much cheaper than 1kg versions.
Bargains like that make me feel better about splashing out on stuff like the obligatory roast for a winter Sunday, but even in a relatively affluent household the prices of lamb and beef are getting to be eye-watering. It's almost enough to turn us vegetarian. But not quite.
Monday 27 January 2014
One Flame Feast - Lamb Boulangere
Taking SC to one of his potential university choices at the weekend made me think about communal student life again.
Musing afterwards on what would make a great student Sunday meal Lamb Boulangere came to mind. In the current cliche it ticks all the boxes (except vegetarian, sorry): almost no fail; can be made to feed six or eight with ease; just one pot to wash up; can be left to its own devices (if you have good security in the flat).
Some cooks suggest pre-heating the meat at high temperature, but the original idea was that in the days before working class homes in France had ovens they benefited from their neighbourhood baker's, after it had done the Sunday bread, the dish cooking slowly in the cooling oven.
There are few ingredients: for six people 1kg to 1.5kg of potatoes, peeled and cut into slices about 3mm thick; 0.5kg to 1kg of onions cut into very thin slices; between 3 and 12 cloves of garlic depending on your taste, thickly sliced; a boned shoulder of lamb (boned makes carving thus life easy) weighing 1.5kg to 2kg; water and salt and pepper (you can use a chicken stock cube to make the liquid more interesting, but it's not needed as the lamb cooking slowly oozes its juices and fat into the veg and the water).
Wipe a roasting tin with butter or oil, then layer up the spuds and onions, with garlic slices and seasoning every now and then. Finish with a layer of potato slices. Pour in boiling water to about 10mm below the top of the veg, then lay the meat on top, cover the lot with foil, and put in an oven at 140C and leave it for at least four hours, preferably six, and if it fits your life better, up to eight will do no harm
Twenty minutes before you want to eat take it out of the oven, remove the meat to rest (rolled in the foil to keep warm, with a tea-towel or two on top for extra insulation). Turn the oven up much hotter, 220 to 230C, and let the top layer of spuds crisp up - this is the only time it needs an eye on it, as soon as the edges start to go from golden brown to black, it's ready.
The spuds and onions are dished up with plenty of juice, and chunks of meat (not slices) placed on top. If you get the last 20 minutes right you'll have a few crispy bits as a pleasant contrast to the melting mass.
Though it is perfect in itself, some peas, carrots or even baked beans would bulk it out a bit if youthful appetites demanded. With 1.5kg of spuds, 1kg of onions, and a whole garlic bulb the veg component would be about £2.80. A 1.5kg rolled shoulder of lamb is about £12.50. So for six people for a Sunday lunch it would be £2.55 each. Go wild with a whole bag of frozen peas and you're still under £3 per head, cheaper than an espresso and a brownie at Costa Fortune.
Musing afterwards on what would make a great student Sunday meal Lamb Boulangere came to mind. In the current cliche it ticks all the boxes (except vegetarian, sorry): almost no fail; can be made to feed six or eight with ease; just one pot to wash up; can be left to its own devices (if you have good security in the flat).
Some cooks suggest pre-heating the meat at high temperature, but the original idea was that in the days before working class homes in France had ovens they benefited from their neighbourhood baker's, after it had done the Sunday bread, the dish cooking slowly in the cooling oven.
There are few ingredients: for six people 1kg to 1.5kg of potatoes, peeled and cut into slices about 3mm thick; 0.5kg to 1kg of onions cut into very thin slices; between 3 and 12 cloves of garlic depending on your taste, thickly sliced; a boned shoulder of lamb (boned makes carving thus life easy) weighing 1.5kg to 2kg; water and salt and pepper (you can use a chicken stock cube to make the liquid more interesting, but it's not needed as the lamb cooking slowly oozes its juices and fat into the veg and the water).
Wipe a roasting tin with butter or oil, then layer up the spuds and onions, with garlic slices and seasoning every now and then. Finish with a layer of potato slices. Pour in boiling water to about 10mm below the top of the veg, then lay the meat on top, cover the lot with foil, and put in an oven at 140C and leave it for at least four hours, preferably six, and if it fits your life better, up to eight will do no harm
Twenty minutes before you want to eat take it out of the oven, remove the meat to rest (rolled in the foil to keep warm, with a tea-towel or two on top for extra insulation). Turn the oven up much hotter, 220 to 230C, and let the top layer of spuds crisp up - this is the only time it needs an eye on it, as soon as the edges start to go from golden brown to black, it's ready.
The spuds and onions are dished up with plenty of juice, and chunks of meat (not slices) placed on top. If you get the last 20 minutes right you'll have a few crispy bits as a pleasant contrast to the melting mass.
Though it is perfect in itself, some peas, carrots or even baked beans would bulk it out a bit if youthful appetites demanded. With 1.5kg of spuds, 1kg of onions, and a whole garlic bulb the veg component would be about £2.80. A 1.5kg rolled shoulder of lamb is about £12.50. So for six people for a Sunday lunch it would be £2.55 each. Go wild with a whole bag of frozen peas and you're still under £3 per head, cheaper than an espresso and a brownie at Costa Fortune.
One Pot Two Dishes - One Flame Rides Again
My son, aka Sternest Critic, has some quirky dislikes. One is that he likes meat that is stewed (let's face it he likes meat), but hates it to come with the liquid in which it cooked. A neat solution to this enjoyed last week was a version of the French Pot au Feu, where the liquid is served as a soup before the rest makes it to table as a main course. Two courses, one pot.
It helped the soup part that the dish was made with stock prepared previously using free bones from the butcher (I've taken to doing this when buying a load of meat, and never get any hassle) and another from the freezer, the penultimate bit of our Serrano ham bone. Those had cooked with some veg and other flavour enhancers, so the stock itself would have done as a soup (some more in fact did at the weekend, with mushrooms, noodles and star anise). But after it had in addition been the cooking medium for chuck steak and shin, with more veg, it was excellent - served without any thickening, likewise sans meat and veg, it was a really really good beef consome.
The original stock benefited btw from a beetroot being one of the vegetables, giving an earthy depth, but more importantly a fine colour.
The solid components were tasty enough, the beef not needing a knife to cut it, but not in the same league as the soup.
I've been trying to think of similar two-dishes-one-pot stuff, with little success. The only one that sprang to mind could in fact be a threefor, doing a similar stew for the soup and solids, but cooking a sweet dumpling or several in with the savoury bits. To modern eyes that may seem odd, but to cooks of centuries past (including the last one) with limited cooking equipment it made sense, and our contemporary separation of sweet and savoury would seem weird to medieval cooks in particular, but even our grandmothers (for those of us in the third decade of our thirties) were not averse to such things.
I have made apple dumplings in this way to eat as pudding, the edge with its meaty tang not putting anyone off devouring them.
It helped the soup part that the dish was made with stock prepared previously using free bones from the butcher (I've taken to doing this when buying a load of meat, and never get any hassle) and another from the freezer, the penultimate bit of our Serrano ham bone. Those had cooked with some veg and other flavour enhancers, so the stock itself would have done as a soup (some more in fact did at the weekend, with mushrooms, noodles and star anise). But after it had in addition been the cooking medium for chuck steak and shin, with more veg, it was excellent - served without any thickening, likewise sans meat and veg, it was a really really good beef consome.
The original stock benefited btw from a beetroot being one of the vegetables, giving an earthy depth, but more importantly a fine colour.
The solid components were tasty enough, the beef not needing a knife to cut it, but not in the same league as the soup.
I've been trying to think of similar two-dishes-one-pot stuff, with little success. The only one that sprang to mind could in fact be a threefor, doing a similar stew for the soup and solids, but cooking a sweet dumpling or several in with the savoury bits. To modern eyes that may seem odd, but to cooks of centuries past (including the last one) with limited cooking equipment it made sense, and our contemporary separation of sweet and savoury would seem weird to medieval cooks in particular, but even our grandmothers (for those of us in the third decade of our thirties) were not averse to such things.
I have made apple dumplings in this way to eat as pudding, the edge with its meaty tang not putting anyone off devouring them.
Thursday 16 January 2014
Right and Wrong
One of my favourite food writers was, is, Elizabeth David. This in spite of her undoubted snobbishness, and her highly prescriptive thoughts on certain foods. She, though not with 100 per cent consistency, believed in authenticity. Pizza was one such food she tended to see as to be done in a particular way or not at all. It was right (her way) or wrong (any other way).
I can agree that the dumping ground pizza - anything and everything added to one - is horrible. Again my kindergarten kids mixing paint analogy, you add too many colours and you just get muddy brown. But as the pizza base is such a great carrier of toppings I don't see it should be limited to tomato, mozarella and maybe an olive or three.
The smell of pizza dough is drifting through the study door even now, ready to form four bases. Just 500g of flour, 325ml of water, a sachet of dried yeast, 13g of salt and two tbsps of olive oil so the cost is well under 50p. A Sainsbury's basic mozarella (I've tried others, and only the pizza mozarella from Waitrose makes any real difference, and that's a trek across town) is I think 45p, to be used on two of the four, along with to be spread as taste fits: five or six cloves of garlic, a small red chilli, an onion, and a basic red pepper, another 45p the lot, and a tin of chopped toms 32p.
We have a small amount of turkey-breast leftover from Sunday's crown, that with some defrosted sweetcorn will add a few more pennies. A £1 taster-pack of peperone will make the basis of another topping, with three or four mushrooms, and an 80p tin of anchovies plus a few leftover olives a third. A few leaves from a £1 bag of baby spinach leaves will find a home on one of them, probably the turkey jobbie, the balance to make a small salad to assuage the guilt. So three pizzas, a garlic bread, and a small salad will set us back under £5.
None of those is going to be authentic, in Elizabeth David's terms, except maybe the garlic bread. But my son when we go out for pizza often goes for chicken and sweetcorn; and spinach with cheese of any sort is great. Plus an Italian peasant of yore would have done the same thing - it is pan y companatico, bread and something that goes with bread - when we had the whole Serrano ham slivers of that went perfectly.
Authenticity be buggered, this is just the best thing to eat on our one night where we slob out and dine in front of the TV.
I can agree that the dumping ground pizza - anything and everything added to one - is horrible. Again my kindergarten kids mixing paint analogy, you add too many colours and you just get muddy brown. But as the pizza base is such a great carrier of toppings I don't see it should be limited to tomato, mozarella and maybe an olive or three.
The smell of pizza dough is drifting through the study door even now, ready to form four bases. Just 500g of flour, 325ml of water, a sachet of dried yeast, 13g of salt and two tbsps of olive oil so the cost is well under 50p. A Sainsbury's basic mozarella (I've tried others, and only the pizza mozarella from Waitrose makes any real difference, and that's a trek across town) is I think 45p, to be used on two of the four, along with to be spread as taste fits: five or six cloves of garlic, a small red chilli, an onion, and a basic red pepper, another 45p the lot, and a tin of chopped toms 32p.
We have a small amount of turkey-breast leftover from Sunday's crown, that with some defrosted sweetcorn will add a few more pennies. A £1 taster-pack of peperone will make the basis of another topping, with three or four mushrooms, and an 80p tin of anchovies plus a few leftover olives a third. A few leaves from a £1 bag of baby spinach leaves will find a home on one of them, probably the turkey jobbie, the balance to make a small salad to assuage the guilt. So three pizzas, a garlic bread, and a small salad will set us back under £5.
None of those is going to be authentic, in Elizabeth David's terms, except maybe the garlic bread. But my son when we go out for pizza often goes for chicken and sweetcorn; and spinach with cheese of any sort is great. Plus an Italian peasant of yore would have done the same thing - it is pan y companatico, bread and something that goes with bread - when we had the whole Serrano ham slivers of that went perfectly.
Authenticity be buggered, this is just the best thing to eat on our one night where we slob out and dine in front of the TV.
Wednesday 15 January 2014
Sources of Inspiration
Cooks can get ideas from numerous sources (and sauces - so sorry, couldn't stop myself). The cooking of one's childhood; travel; books; TV programmes - the good ones (so IMHO forget anything with Gordon Ramsay, Nigella Lawson, Too Fat Bikers and The Hairy Women survivor, and generally the artful Jamie Dodger - a bit woo, a bit wah, a bit wey, know what I mean? amen); meals in restaurants; seeing fine ingredients...
Two recent meals have been inspired, if that is the right word, by my shopping shortcomings: risotto is hard to make without risotto rice; and a potato gratin for three needs more than a spud each. So what was to have been turkey risotto turned into chunky turkey broth (hence lack of spuds next day); and the gratin to accompany lamb chops became savoury (basmati) rice.
The rice thing was of course not any sort of innovation, indeed it's a real standby (though the quantity we had would have required about six of the packet varieties). But it was satisfying to produce something that met our needs, was tasty, and actually looked lovely (a handful of corn kernels, another of peas, some fried onion, green pepper and a red chilli for colour).
Without blowing my own trumpet (I have neither the wind nor the flexibility) the near seamless change was because I know how to cook. One of the few sensible educational measures introduced in recent years has been funding to teach kids cookery. Again, not exactly an innovation. But it will, we can but hope, inspire a generation of home cooks rather than another wave of self-adoring chefs, and mean that the hypnotic power of the ready-meal is broken.
Two recent meals have been inspired, if that is the right word, by my shopping shortcomings: risotto is hard to make without risotto rice; and a potato gratin for three needs more than a spud each. So what was to have been turkey risotto turned into chunky turkey broth (hence lack of spuds next day); and the gratin to accompany lamb chops became savoury (basmati) rice.
The rice thing was of course not any sort of innovation, indeed it's a real standby (though the quantity we had would have required about six of the packet varieties). But it was satisfying to produce something that met our needs, was tasty, and actually looked lovely (a handful of corn kernels, another of peas, some fried onion, green pepper and a red chilli for colour).
Without blowing my own trumpet (I have neither the wind nor the flexibility) the near seamless change was because I know how to cook. One of the few sensible educational measures introduced in recent years has been funding to teach kids cookery. Again, not exactly an innovation. But it will, we can but hope, inspire a generation of home cooks rather than another wave of self-adoring chefs, and mean that the hypnotic power of the ready-meal is broken.
Sunday 12 January 2014
Not So Bare Bones
The aroma of ham stock pervades the house. A month to the day since I bought the Serrano ham from Aldi its remnants have this morning been hacked from the bone and frozen, to enrich stews and soups in months to come. In good Ba Ba Blacksheep style we got three bags full, plus the knuckle wrapped up separately.
The ham was advertised as 6.5kg, though I didn't weigh it, and cost £40. Those remains must total a good 750g, and even the main bone isn't going to waste, simmering with stock vegetables and herbs various in a pot with the capacity of a cricket club tea urn. When the stock is right - as soon as I finish this - I'll pour it through a sieve into a cold metal bowl to cool before skimming, which given there is a load of fat and skin in the makings may well account for 10 per cent of the volume. Some will go in the fridge for imminent use, some freeze for future value.
As I do whenever I see those annoying TV adverts for stupid piddly stock pots I'm tempted now to say balls to Marco Pierre White. That idea that a magic bought ingredient will make your cooking cheffily brilliant is just so wrong. Good ingredients can help, but a miniscule plastic pot of jellied goo probably doesn't qualify, and is not going to turn a thin ragout into a rich and fragrant feast. A properly - lovingly - made stock just may. Thus tomorrow's turkey risotto made with some of the ham stock has a decent chance of being really flavoursome, the meat and bones backed up by carrots, onions, garlic, bay, pepper, cassia bark, celery and thyme.
On Friday I asked the Booth's butcher for some beef bones for another stock, and was surprised that he fished out two short bones from what may have been flat-rib, very meaty indeed. No charge - I heard someone say the other day that butchers pay to have the bones taken away, so welcome such requests. That price definitely fits the austerity remit. Again simmered (and carefully skimmed of gunk), but this time with lots of star anise and chillis along with the stock vegetables, they made the basis of a fine noodle soup (per SC damp noodles, though I notice that he had no problem downing plenty). Naturally both of these exercises took a lot longer than peeling the lid off a Knorr potlet, but it's worth it. One more chorus of balls to Mr W.
Monday 6 January 2014
Duck - no Grouse
When I invested in the Aldi Serrano ham I also bought and put in the freezer a stuffed duck that if memory serves cost £8.99. It was a standby, and a way of avoiding the shops as much as possible over the Christmas and New Year hols. I hate that mad crush, the irrational belief that the supermarkets may never open again, contrary to all experience and the message of major ad campaigns, so illogically you need to shop every day.
It proved a luxurious bargain. With bread sauce (better than the version I made on Christmas Day), glazed carrots and a mash of spud and parsnip it was the basis of a good meal for four. But the bonus was the cereal-bowlful of duck fat that has since enriched several soups, and last night (a week on) made crispy golden cubes of potato. Only goose-fat can rival it for that quality of crisping stuff up.
Half the bowl remains - a little goes a very long way, and it keeps for several weeks. So midweek we'll have a crispy potato gratin, not even needing cheese or onions, though I'll be tempted to slip some shavings of the enduring Serrano ham in there for interest and protein, and a thinly-sliced sliver or two or garlic. The spuds need to be cut as thinly as possible, probably on the blade on the grater, then fried quickly in the fat and tipped into a gratin dish and mixed with the garlic and ham to finish in a hot oven - it's done when it's brown on top.
Served with a green salad or some home-made coleslaw and followed by the survivors from the box of Christmas mandarins it's a moderately healthy supper for pennies. Fewer than 250 pennies if you reckon on 60p of spuds, 2p of garlic, 50p of ham, 75p for the salad element (over-costed as a cos lettuce now £1 in the shops and half of one will suffice) and 50p for three mandarins. A bit more if I go for the slaw.
Over Christmas the most frequently spotted dish here was said coleslaw. There is a small bowlful in the fridge now. What can be easier than grating a big carrot and an apple, plus half a small onion for bite, cutting some white cabbage very finely, and mixing with Helmann's? We ate it alongside sarnies, with the inevitable (and wonderful) cold meat aftermath, and at a small party after New Year's Eve. We'll have more this week one way or another. By my reckoning a big bowlful costs say 10p for a carrot, 30p an apple, 30p for the cabbage, and 5p for the onion. Two big spoons of mayo runs to maybe 20p. So 95p for roughly five times the volume of a supermarket carton that costs more than that, and isn't as fresh by a long chalk.
And the Winner Is...
Not the Oscars, but my thoughts on the best food of the Christmas break, from which I am returning today.
Of the bought-in stuff there is no debate, the bargain Serrano ham from Aldi at £39.99 including stand, knife and sharpening steel was clearly the best. When we first cut into it my heart sank, as those two or three initial slices were not tasty. It improved after a day or so, and is now (kept in a cold conservatory) deeply salty-meaty.
As it won't last forever ham has of late been included in numerous recipes, like last night's chicken in wine (dry January so party leftover finding a home too) and cream, and our pizza-fest. Such luxury.
Is it strange or not that the best thing I cooked was one of the simplest, done in haste? Returning from picking up my father to spend Christmas with us I was allowed three minutes to sit down, then asked what was I going to cook. As a restorative and with an eye on the upcoming relative lack of veg I did a take on Jane Grigson's classic curried parsnip soup, or maybe an unnatural union between that and potage bonne femme.
My version was a curried vegetable soup, with just one (very big) parsnip though that did dominate the flavour. As ever chopped onions were sweated in a little butter, to which four large carrots, that parsnip, three potatoes, two leeks, and several cloves of garlic were added, all chopped or chunked. Hot water and a cheaty spoonful of Swiss vegetable bouillon powder went in, plus - and this was not planned, I found a dearth of ready-made curry powder - my own version ground from pepper, cumin, fenugreek, a tiny bit of star anise, a tsp of turmeric and more of coriander seeds. Simmered for 20 minutes until the veg were beyond soft it was finished with a little cream then zapped with the stick of ultimate power. It was warming, tasty and even a little virtuous.
If you cost it out the veg maybe ran to £1.50, the cream 25p, and the curry ingredients 10p. So four fed for well under £2, and it kept us going (in two senses) until the evening when the chocolates, snacks and other indulgences kicked in. They cost a bit more.
Of the bought-in stuff there is no debate, the bargain Serrano ham from Aldi at £39.99 including stand, knife and sharpening steel was clearly the best. When we first cut into it my heart sank, as those two or three initial slices were not tasty. It improved after a day or so, and is now (kept in a cold conservatory) deeply salty-meaty.
As it won't last forever ham has of late been included in numerous recipes, like last night's chicken in wine (dry January so party leftover finding a home too) and cream, and our pizza-fest. Such luxury.
Is it strange or not that the best thing I cooked was one of the simplest, done in haste? Returning from picking up my father to spend Christmas with us I was allowed three minutes to sit down, then asked what was I going to cook. As a restorative and with an eye on the upcoming relative lack of veg I did a take on Jane Grigson's classic curried parsnip soup, or maybe an unnatural union between that and potage bonne femme.
My version was a curried vegetable soup, with just one (very big) parsnip though that did dominate the flavour. As ever chopped onions were sweated in a little butter, to which four large carrots, that parsnip, three potatoes, two leeks, and several cloves of garlic were added, all chopped or chunked. Hot water and a cheaty spoonful of Swiss vegetable bouillon powder went in, plus - and this was not planned, I found a dearth of ready-made curry powder - my own version ground from pepper, cumin, fenugreek, a tiny bit of star anise, a tsp of turmeric and more of coriander seeds. Simmered for 20 minutes until the veg were beyond soft it was finished with a little cream then zapped with the stick of ultimate power. It was warming, tasty and even a little virtuous.
If you cost it out the veg maybe ran to £1.50, the cream 25p, and the curry ingredients 10p. So four fed for well under £2, and it kept us going (in two senses) until the evening when the chocolates, snacks and other indulgences kicked in. They cost a bit more.
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