Numbers for Dinner

Do you find yourself at the end of the evening meal totting up the number of fruits and vegetables you have ingested that day? I all too often do, partly because I am far more aware of health matters these days than used to be the case, partly because of a residual sporting competitiveness.


The trouble is I get a bit confused about what counts, according to the official rules of the game. How much is a portion? Does a medium tomato count as one, or do I need (daftly) to suck up another couple of cherry toms to hit the tape? A few weeks back I ended up googling whether nuts (a frequent ingredient and my snack with post-prandial coffee) counted - as I recall there may be a committee working on it, though meantime the sane think of course they bloody do.


Another part of the game that bugged me was the smoothie dilemma. Not whether Hugh Grant should use Grecian 2000, but why a smoothie only counts as one, whatever you put in it - when the Dear Leader (may her enemies suffer watching reality TV for all eternity) is absent planning world domination my breakfast tends to be just coffee and a smoothie, with three or four good portions of fruit. Apparently it's because of the fruit sugars released, but given I process to a lumpy consistency does that apply?


I read yesterday that only one in four Brits reaches the five-a-day target, which is sad in health terms but also taste, and culture. Are we still brought up here to think meat and potatoes, or bacon and eggs, or fish and chips are good everyday? Nice on occasion, but missing out on so many great flavours in fruit and veg, so many options. And cheaper options too - we are not short of cash but I reel at the price for meat currently, or good meat anyway - you can buy cheap grey mince for example for not very much, except your long-term well-being.


On the competitive side, we hit eleven yesterday by my reckoning, ignoring the smoothie rule and counting ours as two, and (I'm not sure if this works according to Hoyle) counting the lettuce eaten at lunch and in the evening as two. Yet more bloody French beans were part of that total, as was kale with anchovies, boiled eggs, garlic and olive oil. Delicious. But yes, we did nail the duvet down.

Only the Lonely

Midweek the Dear Leader was away overnight on teaching duties (Fortifying Your Secret Island 101), and Sternest Critic was staying an extra night of his 'reading week' at university before venturing home for his version of R&R, S&S (sleep and steak). I was thus left alone, and was just looking to make a quick and simple supper, and to enjoy something that I would not have cooked if enjoying company.

There are some things that are best eaten alone: curried sprouts probably head that list, with the sauce I made for penne pasta - a sort of reformed putanesca - not far behind. Olive oil was warmed with sliced garlic (lots), and a red chili snipped into it in the vain hope of avoiding chili-eye, then a whole tin of anchovies chopped and added with their oil. When they were all melted together and vaguely cooked through three fresh tomatoes minus their skins were grated in and the lot heated to bubbling point. With lots of pepper and salt and a generous amount of grated parmesan it was utterly delicious, but must have given me breath like a particularly unhygienic medieval French peasant's.

Kippers I feel qualify for the best eaten apart list, unless both of you indulge. When we were on Islay and Jura last summer I opted for kippers at breakfast a couple of times, while DL went for something that when we were in the car later in the day was less assertive. But these foul smelling things (sprout curry apart) do tend to be very tasty. The exception is durian. I had heard much about it so when given the chance to try some (in Johor Bahru, just over the causeway from Singapore into Malyasia) I did. The smell, people said and wrote, is vile, but the taste sublime. They were right about the smell - think a long untended septic tank - but not the taste, which I'd describe as mildly mucal watered down mango. That is something best eaten by other people.

Free Pizza!

Ok, so not actually free. But bloody cheap, and a whole lot better than the nasty cheapo versions (and some of the dearer ones too) that the supermarkets have to offer.

I think I've posted about this before. Or written as we used to have it. The pizza base is made in my bread-maker, the recipe an adaptation of the one that its book gives - and a simple adaptation too, two tablespoons of olive oil replacing the one of melted butter in the original. This makes the dough nicely elastic, and the finished product is crisper I think.

And this is an austerity thing, with last night's three pizzas toppings included costing by my guestimate much less than £4. All were topped with tomato, a tin thereof plus a teaspoon of sugar and some salt reduced to what my accurately wife called a jam. One fishy: anchovies and little prawns, plus very thinly-sliced onion and strips of red pepper; one meaty: half a spicy chorizo sausage (I know it's Spanish but frankly don't care - and please do not pronounce it cho-ritzo or we cannot be friends), plus a liberal dusting of Parmesan and more of the same veg; and one with chicken (leftover from the weekend) and sweetcorn, plus Parmesan again. Oh, and lots of see-through-thin slices of garlic on the first two.

I don't give a tinker's that they are not 'authentic'. They were made with what we had to hand, and seemed suitable. Which probably makes them definitively peasant-fare.

The secret, which is far from secret, is to have the oven at its highest temperature, and not open it for at least 10 minutes while the pizzas (on flat metal pans) cook to crispness. When the edge is brown, they're done. And another well-known secret is that you don't need rubbery mozzarella. Good stuff is fine if you can get it, grated over the tomato or topping if you prefer, but tomato paste and a tasty topping makes for almost rustic simplicity.

I love the relaxed intimacy of eating pizza, or at least good pizza. Use a knife and fork and you look ridiculous, though we needed to with the salad afterwards. Pizza is finger-food, with finger-licking to follow.

Store-cupboard Necessities

Last night's main course made me think about what things are the absolute store-cupboard necessities in this household. That was because I was making fish pie, one component of which for me has to be smoked fish, tinned kippers the easiest way of doing that (cheap, no bones worthy of note, bags of flavour).

Tins of anchovies would have to be up there too: to make my own pizza or add to bought-in; in fish soups to give background; used in a stuffing for veg like peppers; and with discretion in salads. Baked beans another: tonight we are having a rib-fest, so a tin of Heinz with some spice and BBQ sauce will fill out the meal, but they are great added to stews at the end of cooking to sweeten and bulk out, and have numerous other uses though please not the 1970s thing of serving them cold as a salad. Bleaugh. Green lentils in a tin, however, do make a fine salad with some not very delicate slices of onion, a load of crushed garlic, and if to hand some tomato and cucumber, the lot doused in a mustardy vinaigrette.

And no cupboard of mine would ever be without pasta and rice, both the basis of rapid and good meals. In fact I have at least three of each so the changes can be rung.

Ah! and tinned tomatoes, how could I forget? The sauce (with a bit of fiddling) for that pasta, an enhancement to stews and curries, a topping (once reduced) for a pizza...

Some look down on tinned food, and of course fresh is very desirable. But on a wet Thursday when you have forgotten your fridge was nearly empty they are a godsend.

What would you not be without in the larder?

Starter, Side, or Supper? (and Inadvertent One Flame Cookery)

I had some kale from our allotment to use yesterday, so fell back on something mentioned on a previous post - remove the stems, wash (very carefully in salted water, it often harbours scale insects and the occasional tiny slug, though supermarket stuff almost certainly just needs a quick rinse) and steam the leaves, then cut them fine and add a boiled egg or two, a tin of anchovies and their oil, some crushed garlic, and a good grating of parmesan. All this chopped together and mixed up is put still warm on hot buttered toast. The flavours are not exactly subtle, but on a damp November evening robust is good.

When I was planning our evening meal I had this in mind, and tried to think of how to turn it from what is a good starter or maybe a side dish, into a main course. Potatoes, rice or pasta would be inappropriate. Another veg in it would be too much, even finely diced onion. A vegetable with it seems weird. The only thing that tempted me was adding a fried mushroom or two (with hindsight perhaps steaming one or two briefly would be better), but even that didn't get my vote. The only way I can think of (any ideas gratefully received) to make this a main course would be to do lots of it, but good though it is...

So some things are perhaps not meant to be a full supper, or dinner, or tea,  depending on how you style your main meal. Pity, as it is cheap, tasty, nutritious, and just takes ten minutes to knock up. I ended up making a small amount of spaghetti with meat balls (three sausages to use up) and mushrooms and a simple tomato sauce to follow it. 

Though it was not what I had in mind when actually making it, if you boil the egg first this is another one flame cooking thing (provided you have a toaster, though good crunchy bread would be equally good), and a very healthy one too. And there is a minimum of washing up, always a plus. 

And Yet More Courgettes

Well into September and the courgettes keep coming, and I have to find different ways to serve them.

Our favourite way of using them is as what is impolitely termed by my wife and son 'courgette muck'. This simply involves slowly cooking sliced or chunked courgettes in plenty of olive oil, then when they are soft enough bashing them with a wooden spoon or potato masher, depending on what texture you're after, and adding salt and crushed garlic (lots of crushed garlic) to boost the flavour.

It is something that can be used in a variety of ways (btw HF-W does something very similar), including last night's effort of a pasta course (little tubes) with nine skinned tomatoes (Spanish, from Lidl) and a dollop of Heinz tom sauce to sweeten it a bit, plus a half teaspoon of cayenne to give it some zing. Moist, loads of flavour, and a teeny bit virtuous into the bargain.

Having an allotment (and maybe nine courgette plants) means we can afford to pick baby courgettes: they are good just cleaned and thinly sliced in salads or dressed as a salad in their own right; or boiled whole for three minutes then served as a vegetable accompaniment or sliced warm and dressed with olive oil, salt and garlic. Raw or boiled these little ones are also nice grated and enlivened with oil and lemon.

The ones we miss and then discover as proto-marrows tend to go into soups to bulk them out, or if they are too huge onto the compost pile, the rule being that the bigger the courgette the poorer it tastes.

Large ones in need of something to sharpen them up are good sweet and sour (Italian cookbooks and various Middle Eastern ones have something along these lines). Thick slices of courgette are cooked slowly in olive oil for a couple of minutes, then sweet and sour elements added to cook for a few minutes longer. Wine vinegar works better than lemon juice for the sour, and just a couple of teaspoons of sugar (the books always say Demerara but white granulated works better for me), plus some spices and herbs according to your palate and needs round it off. A few chopped anchovies changes it again, garlic is always a good partner, and additions like sultanas, finely chopped red chilli peppers, and pine kernels make the dish prettier and more substantial.

To peel or not to peel? Given much of the goodness is in the peel or near to it, if they scrub up nicely then intact is best. But if they have become too muddy to wipe clean then I peel them as thinly as possible and use the peelings cut up with scissors for a nutritious treat for the chickens.

The plan this year is to transfer one courgette plant deliberately started late into a big pot and as the weather cools transfer it to the greenhouse. Potting it on is this afternoon's task: though the days currently are warmer than most of the summer, the chilly early mornings herald the first frosts soon.