While I enjoy making dishes with posh ingredients, it makes my peasant heart happy to do so with common stuff.
On the posh side, we had a simple pasta course at the weekend, just ribbed (for your pleasure, and to pick up the sauce) tubes and a small but expensive tin of black truffle slices in olive oil. Add grated Parmesan and that's it. Delicious.
On the simple side, a recent curry made with dried lentils, loads of sliced onions and garlic, a grated thumb of ginger, and a tin of coconut milk. With spices to perk it up of course. It was slurpy (the lentils cooked to dhal doneness), filling and of course cheap(-ish), and for once I got the spice balance right - a hint of heat, a lot of taste.
As so often the difference in kitchen terms between the two was time. The pasta and truffle thing took 10 minutes. The curry in all needed over an hour - 10 mins to boil the rinsed lentils, 35 more to simmer them, add to the sauteed onions and mix with the coconut milk then bubble gently away for another quarter of an hour to let the ginger, garlic and spices blend in and flavour the whole pan.
I loved both meals, but maybe because I enjoy the faffery, or possibly because the curry cost by my reckoning £2.50 (coconut milk from the Indian supermarket undercuts Messrs Sainsbury and Aldi by about 33%) it was the latter that pleased me most.
Showing posts with label parmesan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parmesan. Show all posts
Tuesday, 10 December 2019
Tuesday, 13 November 2018
The Ham Diet
The Dear Leader and I have just returned from Bologna, where we spent a long weekend being a bit cultural and very greedy. Given that ham, mortadella and salami nearly always featured at breakfast, lunch and dinner, and watching the Bolognese themselves consume vast platters of ham in the restaurants we used, I am struggling to understand how so few people we saw were fat.
It may be that such meat feasts are for dining outside the home, while vegetable-rich meals are enjoyed in the home. There were more grocers than butchers to be seen as regards shops, and the former had fantastic variety on display, not least the radicchio that seems to have gone out of favour with our supermarkets (so we are growing plenty to make up for it).
Another theory is that they walk so damn much, as we did, though we had the excuse of being visitors intent on seeing the sights (again in some cases, given we made a similar trip last November). All Saturday and Sunday the streets in the centre were thronged with families and groups of friends just strolling about, working up an appetite (or indeed an appetito).
The culinary highlight of the weekend, for me at least, was tripe in the Parma style, which was tripe stewed with tomato and a rich stock. I am a massive fan of tripe, both for its flavour and its texture. Interestingly (well, for me) that tripe dish was, in comparison to my own standby of tripe and onions, on the underdone side; just so the various pastas we had over the four days of dining, all of them done very much al dente. I will learn from that and not always think 'I'll just give it another minute.'
I've made a resolution to make use of my pasta machine again, the particular aim being to make some ravioli (tortelli etc look far too complex for my folding skills to manage). What I have in mind are some very large ravioli, stuffed with things like ricotta and parmesan, but also I am keen to try pumpkin - though not flavoured with crushed amaretti biscuits. I had that combination in one restaurant, and it was intriguing - a traditional dish of the Veneto apparently - but however interesting and (to me) new, a little went a long way.
It may be that such meat feasts are for dining outside the home, while vegetable-rich meals are enjoyed in the home. There were more grocers than butchers to be seen as regards shops, and the former had fantastic variety on display, not least the radicchio that seems to have gone out of favour with our supermarkets (so we are growing plenty to make up for it).
Another theory is that they walk so damn much, as we did, though we had the excuse of being visitors intent on seeing the sights (again in some cases, given we made a similar trip last November). All Saturday and Sunday the streets in the centre were thronged with families and groups of friends just strolling about, working up an appetite (or indeed an appetito).
The culinary highlight of the weekend, for me at least, was tripe in the Parma style, which was tripe stewed with tomato and a rich stock. I am a massive fan of tripe, both for its flavour and its texture. Interestingly (well, for me) that tripe dish was, in comparison to my own standby of tripe and onions, on the underdone side; just so the various pastas we had over the four days of dining, all of them done very much al dente. I will learn from that and not always think 'I'll just give it another minute.'
I've made a resolution to make use of my pasta machine again, the particular aim being to make some ravioli (tortelli etc look far too complex for my folding skills to manage). What I have in mind are some very large ravioli, stuffed with things like ricotta and parmesan, but also I am keen to try pumpkin - though not flavoured with crushed amaretti biscuits. I had that combination in one restaurant, and it was intriguing - a traditional dish of the Veneto apparently - but however interesting and (to me) new, a little went a long way.
Tuesday, 24 July 2018
Two New Flexible Favourites
In my last post I mentioned Ursula Ferrigno as my latest hero. Heroine? What is PC? Her books are both interesting for the Italian cultural and heritage side, and full of very cookable recipes, unlike the vegan tome the Dear Leader (eternal damnation to her enemies) kindly bought me recently, where each recipe has about 20 ingredients, some of them rarely seen in this part of Lancashire. And yes, the author looked exactly as you'd expect him to look, though as Al Gore and Bill Clinton are both vegans now, they don't all look the same. But most do. I like some vegan food, but not because it is vegan, if that makes sense. I like good food, and if it happens to be vegan, alright.
Two of Signora Ferrigno's dishes have now entered my regular repertoire. A vegetable tian, and a potato cake. Both are the sort of dishes I like - easily adapted to use alternative ingredients while sticking to the principle of the thing.
The essential tian is made with courgettes trimmed, boiled for about 12 minutes, then mashed to bits in a bowl when slightly cooled. Some short-grain rice is boiled, again cooled slightly, and added to the bowl. In too go plenty of Parmesan, a beaten egg or two, and some shredded spinach. She fries an onion and some garlic, I just bash some garlic. The Dear Leader's darkest dungeons are full of those who used three pans in cooking one thing. Mixed together, the mushy mass is seasoned and added to a flattish Le Creuset dish, topped (my touch) with more Parmesan, then baked at 180C for 35 - 45 minutes depending on how watery it began life. Fab and healthy, and with a glut of courgettes currently it is one to feature weekly for a while.
The potato cake is equally good, equally cheesy. And not vegetarian. Leftover boiled spuds are made into a sloppy mash with milk and melted butter, a Mozzarella chopped and added, plenty of grated Parmesan, and some chopped salami, along with just-cooked cubes of Pancetta. A veggie version with fried cubes of courgette (so many bloody courgettes) worked well too. In a greased pan or fireproof dish the bottom is lined with breadcrumbs, the mash etc added and flattened gently, and more breadcrumbs patted into the top. Baked for 40 minutes or so at 200C it comes out nicely browned. Put a plate over the pan, tip it up, and the cake comes out more or less intact. And it is delicious, a filler-upper that if ever it were allowed to go cold (and this would probably merit more egg in the recipe) would, cut into squares, make a fine nibble with drinks. The thought does strike one, however, that almost anything with tons of cheese, bacon and salami is likely to be a winner.
A general point from this. Dishes that are flexible are the lifeblood of the home cook. Not molecular cuisine, not painstaking measuring of precise quantities of ingredients, but an idea that will work with a snip and a tuck here and there. HF-W, another of my heroes, does tend to include variations on a theme in his books, and not be over-worried about fractions of a gramme; not really so the blessed Delia, which may be why I only turn to her at Christmas.
Two of Signora Ferrigno's dishes have now entered my regular repertoire. A vegetable tian, and a potato cake. Both are the sort of dishes I like - easily adapted to use alternative ingredients while sticking to the principle of the thing.
The essential tian is made with courgettes trimmed, boiled for about 12 minutes, then mashed to bits in a bowl when slightly cooled. Some short-grain rice is boiled, again cooled slightly, and added to the bowl. In too go plenty of Parmesan, a beaten egg or two, and some shredded spinach. She fries an onion and some garlic, I just bash some garlic. The Dear Leader's darkest dungeons are full of those who used three pans in cooking one thing. Mixed together, the mushy mass is seasoned and added to a flattish Le Creuset dish, topped (my touch) with more Parmesan, then baked at 180C for 35 - 45 minutes depending on how watery it began life. Fab and healthy, and with a glut of courgettes currently it is one to feature weekly for a while.
The potato cake is equally good, equally cheesy. And not vegetarian. Leftover boiled spuds are made into a sloppy mash with milk and melted butter, a Mozzarella chopped and added, plenty of grated Parmesan, and some chopped salami, along with just-cooked cubes of Pancetta. A veggie version with fried cubes of courgette (so many bloody courgettes) worked well too. In a greased pan or fireproof dish the bottom is lined with breadcrumbs, the mash etc added and flattened gently, and more breadcrumbs patted into the top. Baked for 40 minutes or so at 200C it comes out nicely browned. Put a plate over the pan, tip it up, and the cake comes out more or less intact. And it is delicious, a filler-upper that if ever it were allowed to go cold (and this would probably merit more egg in the recipe) would, cut into squares, make a fine nibble with drinks. The thought does strike one, however, that almost anything with tons of cheese, bacon and salami is likely to be a winner.
A general point from this. Dishes that are flexible are the lifeblood of the home cook. Not molecular cuisine, not painstaking measuring of precise quantities of ingredients, but an idea that will work with a snip and a tuck here and there. HF-W, another of my heroes, does tend to include variations on a theme in his books, and not be over-worried about fractions of a gramme; not really so the blessed Delia, which may be why I only turn to her at Christmas.
Tuesday, 11 March 2014
Roast Beef Rides Again
One of the supermarkets has been running a campaign - actually a rather laudable one - showing people that a roast will do more than the Sunday lunch for which it was bought. Roast chicken is an austerity staple, as a decent bird will give you the roast, a curry/risotto/wrap/sandwiches, and broth or at least stock made with the carcase. Beef is no slouch on the second coming front either.
Tonight we will be having one of my takes on leftover topside, and almost as importantly on the gravy that graced it. We ate this a fortnight back and it was enough of a hit for there to be requests for it to be repeated with the excellent beef (Henry Rowntree's superb Aberdeen Angus, and no he doesn't sponsor me, it's just that even a teenager notices the difference) remaining after we feasted post the England - Wales match.
The gravy (ultra-garlicky as I roasted a whole head with the beef, and squidged the soft contents into the meat juices) will be flavoured with smoked paprika, a chilli chopped very finely, Worcestershire sauce, some ground cumin, cayenne, and plenty of pepper. The beef, chopped into 5mm dice, is mixed with its gravy and a tin of Heinz beans, and the resulting mass used to fill wraps that fill a 300mm x 200mm cast iron dish perfectly. Atop this goes a sauce made with tinned toms cooked with a chopped onion and flavoured like the filling, with loads of grated cheese - cheddar and Parmesan - on top.
Cooked in a 180C oven for 30 - 40 minutes (when the cheese is browning it's ready, though I tend to warm the Le Creuset cast-iron dish over a low flame first to speed things up and ensure it is piping hot inside as well as out-) it has the added benefit of looking rather lovely.
The result is filling, rich in vegetables, and tastes good. But then in our family lore most things taste good with Parmesan. And it doesn't need a £1 packet of ready-mix fajita magic dust to give it a Tex-Mex touch.
I'll try to remember to take a photo or two.
Tonight we will be having one of my takes on leftover topside, and almost as importantly on the gravy that graced it. We ate this a fortnight back and it was enough of a hit for there to be requests for it to be repeated with the excellent beef (Henry Rowntree's superb Aberdeen Angus, and no he doesn't sponsor me, it's just that even a teenager notices the difference) remaining after we feasted post the England - Wales match.
The gravy (ultra-garlicky as I roasted a whole head with the beef, and squidged the soft contents into the meat juices) will be flavoured with smoked paprika, a chilli chopped very finely, Worcestershire sauce, some ground cumin, cayenne, and plenty of pepper. The beef, chopped into 5mm dice, is mixed with its gravy and a tin of Heinz beans, and the resulting mass used to fill wraps that fill a 300mm x 200mm cast iron dish perfectly. Atop this goes a sauce made with tinned toms cooked with a chopped onion and flavoured like the filling, with loads of grated cheese - cheddar and Parmesan - on top.
Cooked in a 180C oven for 30 - 40 minutes (when the cheese is browning it's ready, though I tend to warm the Le Creuset cast-iron dish over a low flame first to speed things up and ensure it is piping hot inside as well as out-) it has the added benefit of looking rather lovely.
The result is filling, rich in vegetables, and tastes good. But then in our family lore most things taste good with Parmesan. And it doesn't need a £1 packet of ready-mix fajita magic dust to give it a Tex-Mex touch.
I'll try to remember to take a photo or two.
Friday, 14 February 2014
Finger Fun
I have posted before about not liking recipe books, or rather of much preferring food books that focus on the history and culture of food. It's not just that the recipe ones are dull - and they are - but that I don't believe (other than in very exceptional circs) that a recipe is ever 'done'.
My continual tweaking of the pizza recipe given to me by Ron Mackenna is a case in point. The basics (for four thin crust bases) are still there - 500g flour, 325ml water, 13g salt, 7g yeast - but I have added two tbsp of olive oil to make the dough more elastic. And I now put the naked pizzas in the oven as it is turned on, giving them 10 minutes pre-cooking to ensure they cook through once the toppings are added, and by forming a skin the toppings don't soak in as much. And the flour is now 200g plain 300g white bread flour, the plain making the cooked base crisper.
The toppings have evolved too. I use a tin of toms mashed up and cooked so some of the liquid is steamed off. That's enough to coat two bases, the next stage being to cover the tomato with loads of grated Parmesan. This has the double boon of making the paste dryer still, so it doesn't ensoggify the bread, and is an excuse for using the world's greatest cheese.
OMG as I would say were I not far tooold mature. This has become a recipe. So to sidestep that fate I'd ask a question: is there any better finger food than pizza? Anyone eating pizza other than in a restaurant too posh for pizza anyway should be shot for using a knife and fork with this. It's meant to be eaten with the hands. The bread cools more rapidly than the topping (a generalisation but like most generalisations, including this one, true) so you can hold the thing without burning, but get a hot mouthful. With the basic cheese and tomato version you have a balanced mini-meal with carbs/protein/veggie fibre, anything else being a dietary bonus.
All that said, my home-cooked version is still not up to the standard of a good pizzeria pie. My wife frowns on the idea of spending £500 on a pizza oven for the garden. So the next step is to invest in a pizza stone as an approximation. And if that doesn't do the trick, I'll try the man-stuff route and see if a mate or two will help me build my own with fire-bricks and clay. Or we could walk down the road to Checco's.
My continual tweaking of the pizza recipe given to me by Ron Mackenna is a case in point. The basics (for four thin crust bases) are still there - 500g flour, 325ml water, 13g salt, 7g yeast - but I have added two tbsp of olive oil to make the dough more elastic. And I now put the naked pizzas in the oven as it is turned on, giving them 10 minutes pre-cooking to ensure they cook through once the toppings are added, and by forming a skin the toppings don't soak in as much. And the flour is now 200g plain 300g white bread flour, the plain making the cooked base crisper.
The toppings have evolved too. I use a tin of toms mashed up and cooked so some of the liquid is steamed off. That's enough to coat two bases, the next stage being to cover the tomato with loads of grated Parmesan. This has the double boon of making the paste dryer still, so it doesn't ensoggify the bread, and is an excuse for using the world's greatest cheese.
OMG as I would say were I not far too
All that said, my home-cooked version is still not up to the standard of a good pizzeria pie. My wife frowns on the idea of spending £500 on a pizza oven for the garden. So the next step is to invest in a pizza stone as an approximation. And if that doesn't do the trick, I'll try the man-stuff route and see if a mate or two will help me build my own with fire-bricks and clay. Or we could walk down the road to Checco's.
Thursday, 6 February 2014
Rich and Austere
When early in the day offered the choice of an evening meal based on bangers and mash with onion gravy, or pasta with meatballs (made of the defrosted sausages) SC chose the latter. I wanted to do something different - see Serendipity and the Death of Creation - so ended up making Pasticcio. And bloody lovely it was too.
Thanks to the divine HFW for the basic recipe, though I have eaten this before (in Greece rather than Italy as might be expected), and made it a year or so back.
It was a great example of really good food not costing a fortune: meatballs were made from the meat taken out of £2 of Sainsbury's Taste the Difference sausages; £1 packet of salami; two cloves of garlic, an egg, shallot and some Parmesan. Two 35p tins of toms and some onions, a carrot plus herbs from the garden and more garlic made a rich tomato sauce; 70p of milk and butter plus pennies of flour (and some onion, herbs and a bit of carrot for the infusion) made a bechamel. Two thirds of a 90p pack of penne provided the pasta.
What it did cost was the time I was happy to give it, breaking up my writing for magazines, and what it could have cost had we not possessed a dishwasher was my marriage. Pan for infusing milk for bechamel. Pan for bechamel. Pan for tomato sauce. Griddle for tiny meat balls. Huge pan for assembling the lot: al dente pasta pre-mixed with bechamel on the bottom, tomato sauce with meatballs in the middle, another layer of pasta and bechamel, then a load of cheese (end of some cheddar, about 75p of Parmesan, and a 55p basics mozarella.
Tot all that up and it comes to about £7.00, quite a bit for a midweek supper. But there was enough to feed at least six people, eight if they were polite. Except it was so good three of us demolished the lot. I will do it again without leaving it a year, same quantities, but to feed friends as well as us - as it looked great too which is important when being hospitable. I was glad that I did it in the wide pan with just those three layers, rather than building up what sounds like seven in HFW's recipe - everybody loves cooked cheese and that gave us plenty.
Thanks to the divine HFW for the basic recipe, though I have eaten this before (in Greece rather than Italy as might be expected), and made it a year or so back.
It was a great example of really good food not costing a fortune: meatballs were made from the meat taken out of £2 of Sainsbury's Taste the Difference sausages; £1 packet of salami; two cloves of garlic, an egg, shallot and some Parmesan. Two 35p tins of toms and some onions, a carrot plus herbs from the garden and more garlic made a rich tomato sauce; 70p of milk and butter plus pennies of flour (and some onion, herbs and a bit of carrot for the infusion) made a bechamel. Two thirds of a 90p pack of penne provided the pasta.
What it did cost was the time I was happy to give it, breaking up my writing for magazines, and what it could have cost had we not possessed a dishwasher was my marriage. Pan for infusing milk for bechamel. Pan for bechamel. Pan for tomato sauce. Griddle for tiny meat balls. Huge pan for assembling the lot: al dente pasta pre-mixed with bechamel on the bottom, tomato sauce with meatballs in the middle, another layer of pasta and bechamel, then a load of cheese (end of some cheddar, about 75p of Parmesan, and a 55p basics mozarella.
Tot all that up and it comes to about £7.00, quite a bit for a midweek supper. But there was enough to feed at least six people, eight if they were polite. Except it was so good three of us demolished the lot. I will do it again without leaving it a year, same quantities, but to feed friends as well as us - as it looked great too which is important when being hospitable. I was glad that I did it in the wide pan with just those three layers, rather than building up what sounds like seven in HFW's recipe - everybody loves cooked cheese and that gave us plenty.
Wednesday, 4 December 2013
Feast, Cost and Value
I try to shop wisely, which is not necessarily to say cheaply. If cheap means tasteless, or past its best, or downright nasty, it's a waste of money. Last week I bought a 3kg ham for £12.50, quite an outlay but an absolute bargain:
Sunday lunch - the ham simmered with vegetables and herbs, plenty of thick slices in leek and cheese sauce.
Monday to Wednesday - an equally thick slice or two at breakfast for my son, who likes nothing better.
Monday lunch - ham in my sandwich.
Monday evening - some of the stock and about 250g of cubed meat used in a main course minestrone.
Tuesday lunch - a slice for my lunch with some cheese and pickles.
Tuesday evening - turkey salmi made with more of the stock enriched with Parmesan.
There is still enough for a sandwich this lunchtime and some end bits and scraps that will be added to a salad of some sort, or maybe saved to go on one of our Thursday pizzas, and more than enough stock for another soup.
The initial cooking took 160 minutes, actually more as I brought the ham to the simmer slowly and skimmed off the scum, so it was an investment in time. But the flavours that seeped into the meat made it easy to face so many times; such stock is a boon for any cook; and subsequent uses meant just minutes of prep, if that.
I saw an ad for KFC the other night. Family Feast (TM!) - 10 bits of sad chicken, various 'sides' that largely seemed to consist of the vaguely named 'fries' (are they potato or corn starch?), plus a few beans and some cobettes (what a vile word), and a bottle of fizzy drink. It cost significantly more than that ham.
Sunday lunch - the ham simmered with vegetables and herbs, plenty of thick slices in leek and cheese sauce.
Monday to Wednesday - an equally thick slice or two at breakfast for my son, who likes nothing better.
Monday lunch - ham in my sandwich.
Monday evening - some of the stock and about 250g of cubed meat used in a main course minestrone.
Tuesday lunch - a slice for my lunch with some cheese and pickles.
Tuesday evening - turkey salmi made with more of the stock enriched with Parmesan.
There is still enough for a sandwich this lunchtime and some end bits and scraps that will be added to a salad of some sort, or maybe saved to go on one of our Thursday pizzas, and more than enough stock for another soup.
The initial cooking took 160 minutes, actually more as I brought the ham to the simmer slowly and skimmed off the scum, so it was an investment in time. But the flavours that seeped into the meat made it easy to face so many times; such stock is a boon for any cook; and subsequent uses meant just minutes of prep, if that.
I saw an ad for KFC the other night. Family Feast (TM!) - 10 bits of sad chicken, various 'sides' that largely seemed to consist of the vaguely named 'fries' (are they potato or corn starch?), plus a few beans and some cobettes (what a vile word), and a bottle of fizzy drink. It cost significantly more than that ham.
Thursday, 28 November 2013
Creative Austerity
Is it possible to be both creative and economical? Stupid bloody question really, as some of the world's great dishes are peasant in their roots, and thus made using the simplest ingredients. The mushroom lasagna I cooked the other night was not exactly simple, but it was economical, and it was the tastiest thing I have put on the table in months.
Mushrooms in place of a meaty ragu was an idea I'd been mulling over for a while, partly because I've committed to doing more vegetarian dishes. An interview with a vegetarian chef (she was making Christmas dinner lasagna) was another spur. Even plain button mushrooms are moist enough to help with cooking the pasta, a nice protein boost, and both cheaper and healthier than using beef.
The milk for the bechamel was flavoured as ever with onion, carrot, pepper and herbs - bay, thyme and sage - so was packed with flavour already. I made the sauce, though, with about 50g of Stilton. Blue cheese goes well with mushrooms, and this made the sauce - stiff as behoves bechamel for lasagna - really special.
The market-bought 'shrooms were just sliced and sweated in vegetable oil (plus a teeny bit of truffle oil from a bottle someone kindly bought for us last Christmas), then the lasagna was layered sauce, pasta, sauce, fungi, grated cheddar, pasta, sauce, fungi, cheddar, pasta, sauce, grated Parmesan.
It cooked to cheesy brownness in 40 minutes at 180 Celsius, filling the bottom two floors of the house with appetite-inducing aromas, within which the few drops of truffle-oil played a surprisingly big role. Ruth was out at a leaving do (plenty of those at the university currently), but SC and I, having already prepared a plea in mitigation with a tomato and cucumber salad, finished all bar a mouthful, both of us tempted to seconds and thirds.
Back-of-the-envelope calculations make the cost well under £3, and it was good enough and solid enough (unlike my ragu version) to have graced at least a gastro-pub table, if not somewhere more upmarket. It would have fed four with ease too.
So yes, sometimes you can be creative and economical. Long-winded answer really.
Friday, 18 October 2013
The Vital Ingredient
If there is a secret society dedicated to rewarding the makers of superb lasagne I am in for a major windfall. I've not heard about such a group, but if it's secret I wouldn't have. Last night's effort was per Sternest Critic, not easily pleased in such matters, a personal best. And the ingredient that made it so was time.
I can make a lasagne from scratch in an hour, 40 minutes of that time being what it spends in the oven. But then the meat ragu has not had time for the flavours to cook down and blend, and the bechamel is not going to be bechamel but a plain white sauce.
Yesterday's schedule gave me free time in the middle of the day, when I prepared the milk for the sauce, heating it with a quartered onion, bay leaves pepper and nutmeg, plus chunks of carrot and celery, then leaving the lot to infuse for another four hours. After basic browning the ragu was simmered for about 45 minutes to dry it out - one recent version of the dish was more soup than solid - and again left for the flavours to mix and mature.
Time is clearly something in short supply for many - working from/at home and my own boss (if Ruth says so) I'm lucky - but surely not so rare that the vile Just Eat (fast food dross) campaign can be excused? Is it over the top to suggest our society is doomed if the fast-foodsters win? Yes. But still.
My conscience pricks me: there was another vital ingredient in the probably-not-award-winning lasagne, about 150g of cheese. Cheese in the bechamel, cheese on top of the meat layers, and a thick layer of finely grated parmesan on the top that came out of the oven at the Goldilocks moment.
I can make a lasagne from scratch in an hour, 40 minutes of that time being what it spends in the oven. But then the meat ragu has not had time for the flavours to cook down and blend, and the bechamel is not going to be bechamel but a plain white sauce.
Yesterday's schedule gave me free time in the middle of the day, when I prepared the milk for the sauce, heating it with a quartered onion, bay leaves pepper and nutmeg, plus chunks of carrot and celery, then leaving the lot to infuse for another four hours. After basic browning the ragu was simmered for about 45 minutes to dry it out - one recent version of the dish was more soup than solid - and again left for the flavours to mix and mature.
Time is clearly something in short supply for many - working from/at home and my own boss (if Ruth says so) I'm lucky - but surely not so rare that the vile Just Eat (fast food dross) campaign can be excused? Is it over the top to suggest our society is doomed if the fast-foodsters win? Yes. But still.
My conscience pricks me: there was another vital ingredient in the probably-not-award-winning lasagne, about 150g of cheese. Cheese in the bechamel, cheese on top of the meat layers, and a thick layer of finely grated parmesan on the top that came out of the oven at the Goldilocks moment.
Wednesday, 3 July 2013
One Flame and Three Courses for under £1.50
Doing the university visit round with SC made me feel firstly terribly sad - it is only about three weeks since my first day at uni in 1977 - and secondly inspired to share a few things about student food survival learned - annoyingly - after my student days.
Student finances are tight. But however fun the cheapo fried chicken thing briefly is, most students not in fully catered accommodation want a proper meal now and again. There is something civilised and satisfying about sitting down at a table with cutlery and plates, the mealtime spreading before you. This got me thinking of how to do a de Pomiane (several courses very rapidly prepared) for not very much money, and with the one flame proviso. The first result is as follows, a three course meal for under £1.50, ready in about 10 minutes.
First step is get a big pan of hot water boiling - pasta for the main. Little pans don't do it. You want a big volume of water so when the pasta goes in the water is only below boiling-point briefly. Pasta done in water not yet boiling, or in too little, goes gluey.
Put spag for (hungry) one in the water, then prep your first course, tomato salad. One large tomato or two medium ones should be sliced quite thinly (easy with a serrated blade), the slices laid in one layer on a plate big enough for them all. Dress with just a couple of drops of oil per slice and a tiny bit of salt, plus pepper if you fancy. Add wafer-thin slices of raw onion, or garlic, to pep it up if you want, and to increase the vitamin C content. First course is done, but as the toms have probably been in the fridge, let them warm for a minute or two before eating, and this allows the salt to work too.
Grate a small amount of Parmesan - a little goes a long way. My tip is buy Lidl's for price and quality. This with a thin slice of butter and a crushed clove of garlic is your pasta sauce.
Eat the tomato salad, then when the spag is ready (don't buy quick cook, it's pointless and not as nice), about eight minutes, drain the water off (but leave it moist), and in the hot pan mix with your cheese, butter, and crushed clove of garlic (peel the clove, put it under a broad-bladed knife turned sideways, and thump it hard).
Pudding is an apple. Granny Smiths are tasty, crunchy, and you can get seven or eight for £1.50 if you look in the right place.
Not too much protein in this, though the cheese has about 7g, and the spag 11g, so roughly a third of our daily need, but I'll post another three-course cheapo menu later in the week to address that.
The economics: Two medium toms from Sainsbury's £1 pack with seven in cost 29p. 500g of own-brand spag £1, they suggest 100g for a main course, to fill up I'd say 150g at least so 30p. 10p for butter, and about 40p for Parmesan (200g for £3.75, so 21g for 40p - you need the flavour and the calcium). An apple for 22p. Garlic two cloves 4p. Half a medium onion 5p. Total £1.40.
Student finances are tight. But however fun the cheapo fried chicken thing briefly is, most students not in fully catered accommodation want a proper meal now and again. There is something civilised and satisfying about sitting down at a table with cutlery and plates, the mealtime spreading before you. This got me thinking of how to do a de Pomiane (several courses very rapidly prepared) for not very much money, and with the one flame proviso. The first result is as follows, a three course meal for under £1.50, ready in about 10 minutes.
First step is get a big pan of hot water boiling - pasta for the main. Little pans don't do it. You want a big volume of water so when the pasta goes in the water is only below boiling-point briefly. Pasta done in water not yet boiling, or in too little, goes gluey.
Put spag for (hungry) one in the water, then prep your first course, tomato salad. One large tomato or two medium ones should be sliced quite thinly (easy with a serrated blade), the slices laid in one layer on a plate big enough for them all. Dress with just a couple of drops of oil per slice and a tiny bit of salt, plus pepper if you fancy. Add wafer-thin slices of raw onion, or garlic, to pep it up if you want, and to increase the vitamin C content. First course is done, but as the toms have probably been in the fridge, let them warm for a minute or two before eating, and this allows the salt to work too.
Grate a small amount of Parmesan - a little goes a long way. My tip is buy Lidl's for price and quality. This with a thin slice of butter and a crushed clove of garlic is your pasta sauce.
Eat the tomato salad, then when the spag is ready (don't buy quick cook, it's pointless and not as nice), about eight minutes, drain the water off (but leave it moist), and in the hot pan mix with your cheese, butter, and crushed clove of garlic (peel the clove, put it under a broad-bladed knife turned sideways, and thump it hard).
Pudding is an apple. Granny Smiths are tasty, crunchy, and you can get seven or eight for £1.50 if you look in the right place.
Not too much protein in this, though the cheese has about 7g, and the spag 11g, so roughly a third of our daily need, but I'll post another three-course cheapo menu later in the week to address that.
The economics: Two medium toms from Sainsbury's £1 pack with seven in cost 29p. 500g of own-brand spag £1, they suggest 100g for a main course, to fill up I'd say 150g at least so 30p. 10p for butter, and about 40p for Parmesan (200g for £3.75, so 21g for 40p - you need the flavour and the calcium). An apple for 22p. Garlic two cloves 4p. Half a medium onion 5p. Total £1.40.
Wednesday, 12 June 2013
Lidl Wonder
The supermarket Lidl gets lampooned by comics, though I wonder when for example multi-millionnaire Russell Howard last shopped in one. It's an easy target, the focus being on value rather than looks and gimmicks so attracting the less well-off as a large part of the clientele. Food writers, however, have a lot of positives to say about the store: on my recent press trip to SW France the topic came up and they received nothing but praise, with one of the five almost in need of counselling for an addiction. On last year's jaunt to Parma (never did get the freebie ham I was promised, never mind, life is a veil of tears etc) the same thing was discussed, with similar pluses (one wine highly recommended by a guy who knew his stuff).
It is the 'continental' goods that get the thumbs up from foodies: their Parmesan is absolutely excellent and inexpensive; lardons are equally good, chunky with a smoky flavour; and Black Forest ham is superb. On a mission to get their super-cheap and high quality paper goods yesterday I bought among other things the ingredients for tonight's aubergine parmigiana, so pretty healthy, great flavours, and economic.
2 x aubergines @ 40p each (top bargain)
1 x tin of chopped toms 31p
1 tray lardons (of 2 tray pack for £1.79) so 90p
Parmesan 50g (200g pack £2.89) 72p
Added to this will be a tsp of sugar, an onion or two finely chopped, several cloves of garlic likewise, and a spoon or two of olive oil. The lot still coming in at under £3 by my reckoning. If it is preceded by pasta with chilli, garlic and olive oil (I love the way Italian household meals tend to comprise two complementary dishes like that), the three of us will feed well, with three fine contributions to our five- for which here read seven-a-day.
The method is simple for anyone who cooks at all: peel and slice the aubergines quite thinly, salt if you wish but often these days that's not needed, bitterness in the fruits now much reduced. Blanch the slices for a minute in water acidulated with either a squeeze of lemon or a glug of wine/cider vinegar. Make a sauce by frying the lardons and onion, adding garlic as they are nearly done, then stirring in chopped toms and a tiny bit of sugar, cooking for at least 15 minutes, preferably a very slow simmer for 40.
In an oven-proof dish assemble: thin layer of sauce, layer of aubergine slices, grating of Parmesan, repeated until finishing with a good layer of Parmesan. Pop in a medium/low oven say 160 centigrade for about 80 minutes, though it is flexible and could cook (well watched) at say 220 centigrade in 35- 40 minutes, though the flavours won't have developed as well.
It is the 'continental' goods that get the thumbs up from foodies: their Parmesan is absolutely excellent and inexpensive; lardons are equally good, chunky with a smoky flavour; and Black Forest ham is superb. On a mission to get their super-cheap and high quality paper goods yesterday I bought among other things the ingredients for tonight's aubergine parmigiana, so pretty healthy, great flavours, and economic.
2 x aubergines @ 40p each (top bargain)
1 x tin of chopped toms 31p
1 tray lardons (of 2 tray pack for £1.79) so 90p
Parmesan 50g (200g pack £2.89) 72p
Added to this will be a tsp of sugar, an onion or two finely chopped, several cloves of garlic likewise, and a spoon or two of olive oil. The lot still coming in at under £3 by my reckoning. If it is preceded by pasta with chilli, garlic and olive oil (I love the way Italian household meals tend to comprise two complementary dishes like that), the three of us will feed well, with three fine contributions to our five- for which here read seven-a-day.
The method is simple for anyone who cooks at all: peel and slice the aubergines quite thinly, salt if you wish but often these days that's not needed, bitterness in the fruits now much reduced. Blanch the slices for a minute in water acidulated with either a squeeze of lemon or a glug of wine/cider vinegar. Make a sauce by frying the lardons and onion, adding garlic as they are nearly done, then stirring in chopped toms and a tiny bit of sugar, cooking for at least 15 minutes, preferably a very slow simmer for 40.
In an oven-proof dish assemble: thin layer of sauce, layer of aubergine slices, grating of Parmesan, repeated until finishing with a good layer of Parmesan. Pop in a medium/low oven say 160 centigrade for about 80 minutes, though it is flexible and could cook (well watched) at say 220 centigrade in 35- 40 minutes, though the flavours won't have developed as well.
Tuesday, 4 June 2013
The Other Benefit of Good Food
My English reticence fights against what I want to say here, but the topic is one worth mentioning, so apologies and onwards.
Good food isn't just about the minerals and vitamins that it puts into our bodies, but the way it helps take out the unwanted stuff.
On the Michelin-starred restaurant trip last week we ate some very creative and superbly cooked food, drank excellent Gaillac wines, and lived well. Except that my innards felt left out of the fun, and though they didn't strike they certainly worked to rule. No wonder, as though I was eating perhaps 15 different fruits and vegetables a day, one leaf or a paper-thin shaving of asparagus doesn't hack it on the fibre front.
Yesterday I calculated our evening meal alone - Salade Nicoise of a sort, and fish baked in a crumb and Parmesan crust - had seven full portions of good f&v. French beans, lettuce, peas, sweetcorn (ok it's a grain, but...) tomatoes, peppers, cucumber and a few other salad leaves into the bargain. The plates did not resemble late period Monets, but they did satisfy stomach, soul and my digestion.
It isn't just the posh plates that lack fibre. On a long airport bus trip in Florida in 2007 we were horrified by an early morning phone-in programme. A 'nutritional expert' was promoting his expensive wonder-tablets for American women who only troubled the sewage-system once a week.
This chap's pitch was the miracle drug would solve all their problems. Having watched such women eating nothing but meat, starch and sugary stuff during our stay in the sunshine state it was clear they actually needed an occasional piece of fruit, or a salad worthy of the name. If they'd only opened their minds it would have opened their bowels. And it's all in the best possible taste, as Kenny E used to say.
Good food isn't just about the minerals and vitamins that it puts into our bodies, but the way it helps take out the unwanted stuff.
On the Michelin-starred restaurant trip last week we ate some very creative and superbly cooked food, drank excellent Gaillac wines, and lived well. Except that my innards felt left out of the fun, and though they didn't strike they certainly worked to rule. No wonder, as though I was eating perhaps 15 different fruits and vegetables a day, one leaf or a paper-thin shaving of asparagus doesn't hack it on the fibre front.
Yesterday I calculated our evening meal alone - Salade Nicoise of a sort, and fish baked in a crumb and Parmesan crust - had seven full portions of good f&v. French beans, lettuce, peas, sweetcorn (ok it's a grain, but...) tomatoes, peppers, cucumber and a few other salad leaves into the bargain. The plates did not resemble late period Monets, but they did satisfy stomach, soul and my digestion.
It isn't just the posh plates that lack fibre. On a long airport bus trip in Florida in 2007 we were horrified by an early morning phone-in programme. A 'nutritional expert' was promoting his expensive wonder-tablets for American women who only troubled the sewage-system once a week.
This chap's pitch was the miracle drug would solve all their problems. Having watched such women eating nothing but meat, starch and sugary stuff during our stay in the sunshine state it was clear they actually needed an occasional piece of fruit, or a salad worthy of the name. If they'd only opened their minds it would have opened their bowels. And it's all in the best possible taste, as Kenny E used to say.
Tuesday, 7 May 2013
The Hungry Gap and One Flame Pasta
For those unfamiliar with the term, the hungry gap is the time of year when the winter crops have pretty much ended and the spring plantings not reached maturity. We have shops to get round the starvation problem these days, but for food gardeners it's an annoyance.
There are things like the pea-shoots mentioned the other day that will grow under cover year round, but you really crave fresh stuff smelling of outdoors if you love veg. Yesterday we had a dish that we made in our first home in Norfolk in the mid-eighties, when we had even less spare cash than today. It's just pasta (ideally penne or similar with a bit of substance) cooked al dente then drained (but leave a spoonful or two of liquid behind) and mixed while still hot with a good serving-spoon of butter and a load of freshly picked herbs from the garden.
We gathered little leaves of new-growth sorrel, a few sprigs of rosemary, some crispy tubes of Welsh onion, plus chives, sage and marjoram and a handful of over-wintered parsley, cut them fine with a mezzoluna, mixed into the pasta along with the butter and a good grating of Parmesan (Sternest Critic asked the other day is there any vegetable that doesn't go with Parmesan?), seasoned with crunchy salt and wolfed it. Still cheap, still good, still very quick and easy, ideal after a tiring day.
On Sunday a similarly rapid restorative dish met with approval, pasta puttanesca - pasta whore-style, so called apparently because it could be made on one burner (hmm) in minutes as trade allowed, though the strong flavours and smells masking others is an alternative explanation. This for me needs spaghetti or linguine, cooked until right at the point of being ready, then well drained. To the pasta pan add a few good glugs of basic olive oil (extra virgin somehow inappropriate) that has had a load of crushed garlic and a finely chopped chilli or two infusing in it for a few minutes or an hour if you think ahead. Stir together over a very low heat (don't fry the spag) until the garlic scent rises and the chilli fumes make your eyes water, then season with plenty of salt and lots of pepper. It is coarse and satisfying and the perfect thing to serve with a glass of ropy red wine - you could be drinking the finest Barolo for all your taste buds will be able to tell.
There are things like the pea-shoots mentioned the other day that will grow under cover year round, but you really crave fresh stuff smelling of outdoors if you love veg. Yesterday we had a dish that we made in our first home in Norfolk in the mid-eighties, when we had even less spare cash than today. It's just pasta (ideally penne or similar with a bit of substance) cooked al dente then drained (but leave a spoonful or two of liquid behind) and mixed while still hot with a good serving-spoon of butter and a load of freshly picked herbs from the garden.
We gathered little leaves of new-growth sorrel, a few sprigs of rosemary, some crispy tubes of Welsh onion, plus chives, sage and marjoram and a handful of over-wintered parsley, cut them fine with a mezzoluna, mixed into the pasta along with the butter and a good grating of Parmesan (Sternest Critic asked the other day is there any vegetable that doesn't go with Parmesan?), seasoned with crunchy salt and wolfed it. Still cheap, still good, still very quick and easy, ideal after a tiring day.
On Sunday a similarly rapid restorative dish met with approval, pasta puttanesca - pasta whore-style, so called apparently because it could be made on one burner (hmm) in minutes as trade allowed, though the strong flavours and smells masking others is an alternative explanation. This for me needs spaghetti or linguine, cooked until right at the point of being ready, then well drained. To the pasta pan add a few good glugs of basic olive oil (extra virgin somehow inappropriate) that has had a load of crushed garlic and a finely chopped chilli or two infusing in it for a few minutes or an hour if you think ahead. Stir together over a very low heat (don't fry the spag) until the garlic scent rises and the chilli fumes make your eyes water, then season with plenty of salt and lots of pepper. It is coarse and satisfying and the perfect thing to serve with a glass of ropy red wine - you could be drinking the finest Barolo for all your taste buds will be able to tell.
Monday, 29 April 2013
Political Leftovers
Unpalatable though it is to find myself in agreement with Britain's richest MP, but Richard Benyon was in essence correct about the wastage element of our food culture. His estimate of £50 per month per family of food thrown away is within the bounds of reason.
As I understand his statement he was not advising people to live on leftovers, but to make the most of what they have. That this should have caused an uproar says much about the ridiculous nature of our party system - if your opponents say one thing the opposite must be true, even if it is simple common sense.
The use-by-date and sell-by-date thing is another aspect of this. On Sunday I was shopping and spotted a piece of Parmesan near its SBD at a third of the original price. Parmesan, which if stored properly will last months and months. It was not what I had gone for (chicken for a paella), but in the basket it went. This is not to advocate buying dodgy food, but to point out that sometimes bureaucratic neatness is out of kilter n the kitchen.
We just cleared one of our store-cupboards out, so I am as guilty as the next cook, a pack of Quinoa that seemed like a good idea at the time never even opened, and the dregs of several bags of flour joining it. Some candied peel found at the very back was three years out of date, and though I reckon being candied it was still ok three years is a bit too much leeway to ask, so our chickens are getting it in small doses and seem quite keen.
Chickens are a wonderful way of reducing food wastage, as I have posted before. A rather manky carrot is in their box waiting to be cut into tiny bits, a treat for them that will add to the beta-carotein content of tomorrow's eggs. As our earning power inevitably gravitates ever closer to that enjoyed in the BRICS nations with which we compete I guess more of us will keep these excellent birds. Even Mr Benyon may - though given he is worth £110 million pounds, apparently, it would not be out of necessity.
As I understand his statement he was not advising people to live on leftovers, but to make the most of what they have. That this should have caused an uproar says much about the ridiculous nature of our party system - if your opponents say one thing the opposite must be true, even if it is simple common sense.
The use-by-date and sell-by-date thing is another aspect of this. On Sunday I was shopping and spotted a piece of Parmesan near its SBD at a third of the original price. Parmesan, which if stored properly will last months and months. It was not what I had gone for (chicken for a paella), but in the basket it went. This is not to advocate buying dodgy food, but to point out that sometimes bureaucratic neatness is out of kilter n the kitchen.
We just cleared one of our store-cupboards out, so I am as guilty as the next cook, a pack of Quinoa that seemed like a good idea at the time never even opened, and the dregs of several bags of flour joining it. Some candied peel found at the very back was three years out of date, and though I reckon being candied it was still ok three years is a bit too much leeway to ask, so our chickens are getting it in small doses and seem quite keen.
Chickens are a wonderful way of reducing food wastage, as I have posted before. A rather manky carrot is in their box waiting to be cut into tiny bits, a treat for them that will add to the beta-carotein content of tomorrow's eggs. As our earning power inevitably gravitates ever closer to that enjoyed in the BRICS nations with which we compete I guess more of us will keep these excellent birds. Even Mr Benyon may - though given he is worth £110 million pounds, apparently, it would not be out of necessity.
Tuesday, 19 March 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, 19 February 2013
One Flame Demitarian?
I heard someone from the World Food Programme (I think) this morning on Today, talking about the need to reduce our use of animal protein, indeed animal products, to slow our damage to the environment. He used the term 'demitarian', to convey the idea of cutting meat/milk/cheese etc consumption, but not stopping it. Not sure if I like the word, but the sentiment is good.
Other posts have covered how I am trying to reduce our meat usage. It is not hard, except in terms of breaking a habit - meal plan so often starts with a lump of protein. Last night's meal probably didn't quite fit the demitarian party line, but came close. It was a meal that de Pomiane would have smiled at too, ready in 20 minutes but with only five minutes' work involved. Good one for the student and austerity cook too, cheap and cheerful, one-pot cooking, and pretty healthy: first course a mix of hors d'oeuvres, second linguini with Parmesan and butter.
The idea for the hors d'oeuvre-fest came from the almost summery weather: grated carrot (squeezed to get rid of excess moisture, it makes it fluffier) with tiny rings of spring onion and flecks of Maldon salt; a tin of good sardines in oil; a few slices of salami; some olives; fingers of cucumber and yellow pepper, and a load of tiny tomatoes that wonder of wonders actually tasted of tomato, and they were only £1 for a bag at Sainsbury's, enough for three or four such servings.
Two large platefuls ready in three minutes, lots of colour and a feeling of virtue. It's a sociable course too, diners reaching over for a bit more of this or that, pass the mayo or pepper.
Two large platefuls ready in three minutes, lots of colour and a feeling of virtue. It's a sociable course too, diners reaching over for a bit more of this or that, pass the mayo or pepper.
Second course was cooking while we tucked into our starter, and again it is a friendly dish, twirling of pasta on fork and slurping of the dripping threads.
Grated carrot btw is one of my favourite standby things when a meal needs a salad. Last night two carrots was plenty, but another one or two, dressed with oil and lemon and crunchy salt makes a rapid salad on its own. The vibrant orange brightens any table too, and for pennies - about 20p I guess, with 5p for olive oil, and another 10p for a wedge of lemon.
When people say cooking is a chore, I wonder have they ever tried it. And how can anyone not have five minutes spare to do something fun in their day that feeds the family?
Thursday, 10 January 2013
Half the World's Food Wasted
The Institute of Mechanical Engineers has garnered headlines with its report stating that up to half the world's food goes to waste. Some of the causes are beyond ordinary households to fix, but there are plenty of actions we can take to make some difference.
1: Buy local fruit and vegetables from local markets, where how a potato looks, or the size of a turnip, or a little blemish on an apple, are not regarded as vital. If you buy from supermarkets, make a point of buying stuff like the 'basic' bags of peppers, which are misshapes and 'the wrong size' (what utter bureaucratic idiocy, wherever it comes from). They, like market produce, are cheaper and taste no damn different.
2: If you grow your own, use it. Either side of us neighbours have perfectly good fruit trees that over the years have been little picked if at all. Happily we have been allowed to harvest the damsons from a tree on one side and mirabelles from a much neglected tree on the other. New occupants of the damson side so I hope they make the best of what they have available fresh and free.
And strangely I have noticed how some fellow allotment growers don't harvest some of their crops, either because they are grown out of habit though not liked, or too much of something is grown (so gift them), or a touch of the can't be bothereds sets in.
3: Learn to use leftovers. All it takes is a little imagination: yesterday I was making a big omelette for our evening meal, into which cubed went three stovie potatoes left from the previous day, bulking out the onion, yellow pepper (yes, basics range) and Parmesan.
4: Don't buy on automatic. I wonder how internet grocery purchases are affecting wastage - we all tend to laziness, and not changing a list even if you go off something, or have plenty already, is going to lead to waste.
5: Learn to preserve stuff better. That may be simply keeping certain fruits and veggies in the fridge, or actually making pickles and jams. Last year was rubbish for apples, strawberries and raspberries here, what we got was eaten fresh or made into ice cream as regards soft fruit, so no jams or jellies made for once. But we have some from 2011 still good.
6: In a country where obesity is a major problem, think about portion size.
The economic benefits will be immediate if the shopping bill is reduced, as it can be for most of us. But longer term as demand drops here so should prices, and the developing world will get a better share of food resources. It won't cure the planet's ills, but every little helps.
Another action, not for everybody though: get chickens (who love leftover spuds, greens, stale bread, cucumber skin if you don't use it, any toms that have got mould, etc etc). One fine day we'd love to have a pig or two, though as our deeds say we can't that has to wait until we move sometime in the future.
1: Buy local fruit and vegetables from local markets, where how a potato looks, or the size of a turnip, or a little blemish on an apple, are not regarded as vital. If you buy from supermarkets, make a point of buying stuff like the 'basic' bags of peppers, which are misshapes and 'the wrong size' (what utter bureaucratic idiocy, wherever it comes from). They, like market produce, are cheaper and taste no damn different.
2: If you grow your own, use it. Either side of us neighbours have perfectly good fruit trees that over the years have been little picked if at all. Happily we have been allowed to harvest the damsons from a tree on one side and mirabelles from a much neglected tree on the other. New occupants of the damson side so I hope they make the best of what they have available fresh and free.
And strangely I have noticed how some fellow allotment growers don't harvest some of their crops, either because they are grown out of habit though not liked, or too much of something is grown (so gift them), or a touch of the can't be bothereds sets in.
3: Learn to use leftovers. All it takes is a little imagination: yesterday I was making a big omelette for our evening meal, into which cubed went three stovie potatoes left from the previous day, bulking out the onion, yellow pepper (yes, basics range) and Parmesan.
4: Don't buy on automatic. I wonder how internet grocery purchases are affecting wastage - we all tend to laziness, and not changing a list even if you go off something, or have plenty already, is going to lead to waste.
5: Learn to preserve stuff better. That may be simply keeping certain fruits and veggies in the fridge, or actually making pickles and jams. Last year was rubbish for apples, strawberries and raspberries here, what we got was eaten fresh or made into ice cream as regards soft fruit, so no jams or jellies made for once. But we have some from 2011 still good.
6: In a country where obesity is a major problem, think about portion size.
The economic benefits will be immediate if the shopping bill is reduced, as it can be for most of us. But longer term as demand drops here so should prices, and the developing world will get a better share of food resources. It won't cure the planet's ills, but every little helps.
Another action, not for everybody though: get chickens (who love leftover spuds, greens, stale bread, cucumber skin if you don't use it, any toms that have got mould, etc etc). One fine day we'd love to have a pig or two, though as our deeds say we can't that has to wait until we move sometime in the future.
Friday, 4 January 2013
Two Reasons for Shopping at Morrison's
My normal shopping run is done at Sainsbury's, merely because it's five minutes by car. I buy plenty of meat and good cheese at Booth's, paper-goods and Parmesan at Lidl, but don't often venture to Morrison's as it is a 15-minute drive. As I was on another errand that took me near there today, however, I did my weekly shop in the store, and was again impressed.
It was not the fact that the end bill was definitely cheaper than I'd have paid at Sainsbury's, whatever their special offer guarantees say. It was the meat and veg that shone out as so much better.
As to the meat: their range of cuts is far wider, and the meat just looks better than JS's does. Lamb ribs, pork ribs in the piece, pork hock, ham hock, hearts, pig's trotters, crackling sheets, and plenty of other cheaper options that indicate they have confidence those shopping there know how to cook.
I was sorely tempted by the trotters, one of my favourite things, but SC loathes them and Ruth doesn't care for them. There is another cook book in that - in my business travel days I made a point of eating trotters whenever I saw them, which means I have fond culinary memories of a couple of Chinese versions (one of them another thing where star anise lifted a dish), one a stew thing, the other a dim sum platter; a Portuguese stew with chick peas; Ste Menehould breaded trotters in France (when I ordered these the French colleague dining with me accused me of not being English, which for the French is a compliment I think); and a spicy chorizo-enriched stew in Bilbao.
The fruit and veg section has kept up the campaign started some time ago to expand the offer - lots of varieties of mushrooms, for example, along with a good selection of exotics. I didn't go mad, but along with the usual stuff bought frisee and plantain which would not normally feature on my list.
I admire their courage, presenting the market with a chance to cook proper food, to try new things, and to enjoy cheap cuts along with the steaks and roasts. Two racks of pork ribs are now in our freezer for either a pig-out of BBQ ribs one night, or as starters for two different Chinese meals, and our Friday-night-is-steak-night for SC and self will be with two small but thick pieces of rump each (a bargain because of the size), bulked out with a lamb cutlet that the butcher cut from the carcase for me as they had none left when I asked.
Tuesday, 13 November 2012
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.
Tuesday, 23 October 2012
Umami - Not Uvavu
My recent trip to Parma revived my interest in both Parmesan cheese and the taste for which we use the Japanese term umami. Last night's meal was turkey and mushroom risotto, which was enlivened by the use of a fair sprinkling - more like covering - of Parmesan. I had tasted the risotto before and after the addition, and can say for sure that it wasn't just an addition. There is a culinary magic at work that, as with the best food and wine pairings, produces a third flavour out of the ether. The dish became far more savoury, the mushrooms and bacon cubes (recipe bacon cut by me, as ever) altered in taste too, and there was a richness well beyond what you'd expect from the weight of the grated cheese included.
So reaching for the cheese is not uvavu - for those of a very young persuasion check out Shooting Stars with the wonderful Vic and Bob. It is umami.
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