Sooo Beige

Somewhere in this blog there's a post about grey/gray food, and how that colour is thoroughly unappetising. Last weekend I cooked a curry that was the epitome of beige, and it had the same result in terms of appeal to the eyes.


Once beige gets control, like corrupt politicians, it's extremely hard to dislodge. This was, oxymoronically, a beige black hole, the taupe singularity at its heart drawing in and destroying all other colours. I added jade frozen peas to try to brighten the thing, and seconds later they'd lost their sheen and were more brown than green. Basil and coriander went in at the last second, but they too succumbed.


Strangely the root cause of the beige was bright yellow turmeric root, that dazzling hue combining with coconut milk to end in the B word. It didn't help that the curry was bulked out with cubes of peeled aubergine, and a lot of cashews, neither of which added to the non-existent rainbow on my plate. My turmeric-dyed fingers, briefly as yellow as a lifelong smoker's, mocked the dullness of the dish.


The flavour was fine, excellent even, enlivened with a big nub of ginger (more beige) grated in, and spices various. Without a red or yellow pepper to hand, however, and tomato being wrong for it, beige the thing was. Served on beige wholegrain basmati rice. Accompanied by a pleasant hock that matched it nicely, but made me wish I'd opted for a red just to brighten our evening.


No restaurant chef would have served such a dish. At the very least it would have been garnished with something green on the side, and sweet peppers added to the ingredients list. You (and they) can take the look of dishes too far. The pointless foam. The ubiquitous single physalis, or three redcurrants, with puds. A thin squiggly line of sauce too meagre to bring flavour. Curly parsley atop steak and fish. But annoying though they be, they're better than beige.

Savour Every Morsel - Upside to Imposed Austerity

In the post Upside to Austerity  back in December 2011 I wrote about how tougher times could prove to be a plus in culinary terms if we were pushed into valuing our food more. We had in times of more than plenty overindulged, and I felt that had made us blase (still can't do accents on this system) about what we ate. I'm feeling a similar thing on our alternative eating programme (and still refusing to use the D-word).

Not that we have been going hungry, or decided to live on crispbread and gravel. But taking into account each part of a meal in terms of its nutritional elements makes one value, say, mushrooms as a source of chromium (and they are far more delicious than car trim); or the multiple virtues of green leaves.

As second and third portions are perhaps what led to us needing to stick to the AEP for a while I'm being careful with quantities in my cooking. If you have one plateful you tend to make it last longer, and to savour what you have. So this just may be imposed austerity.

There are upsides to this version too. Considering our regime more closely has led to some interesting new finds. Black rice is probably top of that list: not an austerity item as a small box cost £2.50, though that will do the carbs for three of us for at least three meals. It's actually more purple than black, that colour showing it has the same antioxidants as blueberries, blackberries etc. The gourmet benefit is that it has a fine flavour, far more interesting than plain white long-grain. The AEP benefit is that it has a lower GI rating than said white rice. I'm guessing the Emperors and tyrants who 1000 years ago kept it all for themselves (or is that marketing tosh?) were more interested in how it tastes.

One definite austerity aspect to the so-called programme is that we are eating vast amounts of fruit, so I can't remember having to throw away a single soft apple, or any rotting oranges found at the bottom of the fruit bowl (a fruit bowl rather than the fruit bowl to be more accurate) for weeks. Another is that my bread-making has been to the fore, to ring the changes with plain supermarket wholemeal. It is possible to buy a loaf for less than one of my homemade efforts costs, but the cheapo bought version would be pasty and flabby and rubbery, the admittedly less than perfectly symmetrical loaves I turn out have become lighter and tastier as I've gained experience.

Austerity and Healthy Food

Over recent years one of the regular excuses voiced about poor eating habits is that healthy food costs more than unhealthy. Since we decided on our alternative eating programme [yes there is a deliberate hint of silliness in the name] I have made one major discovery in that regard: by spreading butter thinly, and almost banning it from cooking, one uses less and thus spends less. Who knew?

Same applies to oils and dressings. I think a general rule can be discerned here: if you use thus buy less of something, it is cheaper than buying and using lots.

As we are eating less meat and more veg, the sums are in our economic favour there too.

Last night's meal was pork tenderloin marinated in ginger, cumin, pepper and cassia bark all ground up, the six little slices (£3.15 for the piece) popped in a sealable bag with that mix and some scrunched up bay leaves and lime leaves from our own trees, then left in the fridge for about seven hours before being beaten with a mallet and griddled. Result: loads of flavour to make up for the relatively small amount. It was as the divine HFW says 'meat as spice.'

What was more important to the meal was the brown rice (I used to hate it, but this stuff is almost perfumed - and I swear it used to be browner, but then Wagon Wheels used to be bigger, and all this used to be fields too) served mixed in with a pile of lightly steamed veg - carrot, mange tout, frozen broccoli, ditto peas, ditto okra, doused in soy sauce and pepped up with five-spice. Say 35p for the rice, £1.65 for the veg and soy, so the meal for three of us £5.15. Not cheap, not dear.

I'll do the same thing without the meat next time, but adding a few mushrooms and more veg - a pepper, and definitely garlic. The substitutions would bring the cost down to about £3. Which to fill three stomachs healthily (three people rather than one ruminant - or do they have four?) seems like a bargain.

Colour Counts

Having written about how we are taking the health - and calorie - side of our eating more into account currently, a bit of balance. Away with the brown rice (not that I have any in the house) and the wholemeal bread (actually we had that toasted at breakfast), in with the bright celebratory colours to mark the most glorious day of the year so far, more like late May than late March here in semi-tropical Preston.


Not that colour is to be ignored as regards the healthy side of eating - the more colours, or so I reason, the broader the range of nutrients we're likely to get. It's the impact on the mood that colour brings that's more important at present though. Judge for yourselves if the main dish was colourful enough - for once I remembered to take some pictures.

I've posted before about paella as a Sunday special. We had a good friend coming round to eat with us, so an additional cause to do something a bit different.

And with the oil reduced to a minimum, none of the big cubes of bacon I generally like in my paellas, and seafood rather than chicken (it's the skin that gets you) as the protein elements, it was pretty healthy.

But it was the colour that probably did us most good. The tomatoes cooked into the rice helped, so too the sofrito that had yellow and red pepper. The saffron-infused stock added a touch of sun on what was a superbly sunny day. Even frozen peas did their bit. It was a thing of beauty to which my photography skills don't do justice.

Is Anything Simpler than Rice?

Plain boiled rice (as the takeaway menu would have it) is in one way the simplest of things. It has nothing to it  but rice, water and perhaps salt. It is of course what a lot of the world's poor have to live on, and if that's all you have then the beauty of the thing which is enhanced by comparison with more complex foods will of course be reduced - survival is not sensual. But there are few things that, when done properly, taste as good. Austere, but in itself superb.

In Taipei many years ago I dined with a couple of guys from our local agent, and two Japanese executives from a company we were trying to sell to. The meal was not the fanciest banquet ever, but undoubtedly excellent. I was surprised at the end of it when the two Japanese men complimented the rice. I always thought until then rice was rice was rice. But they were right, it had a creamy texture while being light, and the clear starchy whiteness of the flavour was beautiful. 

On the other hand, achieving that perfection is far from simple. Rice is something I find very hard to cook just  as it should be. Which is why I was so pleased with our meal last night. Chili con carne (nothing special at all) but with plain boiled rice that for once was right. I had seconds and thirds of rice, but not of the meat and veg element. The rice came in a massive bag from the Asian section of our local supermarket, not the cheapest but not the dearest brand. It was washed thoroughly, covered plus half an inch with boiling water, and left in a covered pan on very low heat for 10 minutes, then with heat off steamed for 10 more. Simple, but it worked perfectly. 

Washing the rice by the way is not what you'd do if eating to survive. During the Indian Mutiny/First Indian War of Independence, depending on your standpoint, the British in a fort under siege were fed boiled rice, while the faithful Indians serving them just had the water in which it was washed. Many of the Brits got scurvy, their servants didn't. For me, by the way, those Brits who allowed (one wonders if it was allowed at the point of a gun) their servants to be kept to rice water while they ate the good stuff deserved to suffer illness.

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?

Leftovers or Thinking Ahead?

When are leftovers not leftovers? When you cook with the deliberate intention of having something to use later on. Roast chicken always provides more than one meal (at the very least the carcass makes stock); indeed every Sunday roast should offer the basis of Monday's dinner. But it is not just meat that does the trick - think cabbage and mash making bubble and squeak; or just mash with a few strips of meat pointing the way to rissoles.

I rarely cook just enough rice for one dish, as there are so many ways to use a bowl of the stuff the next day. And even if I forget and it languishes unloved in the fridge the chickens will eventually be pleased to have it, though that is an extravagance.

Thursday's basis for the fried rice dish left plenty enough to make a simple stuffed yellow pepper each (how very Eighties), with a tin of anchovies, four cloves of garlic sliced thinly, lots of pepper and sprinkles of paprika and celery salt, plus a splash of olive oil and the juice of half a basics lemon. Stood upright in a metal cake tin, tops minus stalk back on, the filled peppers stopped one another from sagging and the filling stayed moist. They cooked for 40 minutes in the oven at 180C to a soft sweetness that contrasted beautifully with the anchovies, though Sternest Critic said I had overdone the latter.

In warmer times this with a salad would make a main meal, but yesterday they were served as a boost to our vegetable intake after the main course, and to brighten the meal with almost luminous yellow.

We still have enough rice left to make a ramekin each of cheesy rice - grated Parmesan, a dab of butter, spoon of boiling water, and some garlic, cling-filmed and cooked briefly in the microwave.

One Flame Chinese - Take-out Made in

Chinese food is one of my favourite cuisines, or several of them - there is, after all, not one single style of Chinese cookery. What I have eaten as Chinese food has changed over time and geography. In the Seventies when the first Chinese takeaways opened in my hometown there was a preponderence of really gloopy stuff, like sweet and sour sauce in which a spoon would stand. Today the dishes available from such places are - often - subtler. In the Gorleston of 1975 Peking Duck never featured on the menu.

I was lucky enough to visit mainland China about a dozen times and Taiwan far more often when I worked in industry, so had the opportunity to try authentic Chinese food. On the mainland I ate in Hong Kong, Shenzhen, and Shanghai, the food in the latter - especially in the countryside beyond the city - very different from the first two. Taiwanese food was different again, perhaps for economic reasons then with meatier dishes to the fore, and fantastic seafood (barbecued chilli whelks one of the best things I ever tried). 

Travels in the USA meant trying their version, again with its own characteristics. I still don't get the point of fortune cookies. 

All of which is a long-winded way of saying that I love food made in a Chinese style. So I make my own attempts at it. One of my favourites, and something that qualifies as austerity cooking and one flame cookery, is fried rice, which was the core of last night's meal, and we would not have been deprived had it been all of the meal. 

White rice carefully and lengthily washed in a fine sieve to ensure the grains keep separate later was boiled quickly (boiling water covering it and a half inch more, slow simmer in covered pan for five or six minutes, then taken off the heat and left to steam for another ten minutes). While it steamed finely chopped carrot, red onion, yellow pepper, and a red chilli seeds-and-all were fried gently in rapeseed oil, then the boiled rice was added with about three tablespoons of soy sauce, the mixture stirred together and allowed to fry again very gently for five minutes. Defrosted sweetcorn and peas, and a handful of basics prawns were thrown in, and two brutally crushed garlic cloves to max their impact. A shake of 5-Spice powder completed the flavour enhancement.

I did enough for six, and the three of us ate it. Which when you think about the millions who have to survive on a bowl or two of plain boiled rice a day gives pause for thought.

Another no-flame dish complemented this, a way of using a bit of leftover (uncooked) white cabbage - the Chinese love their brassicas. The thick stalky bits were removed, leaves rolled together like a cigar and chopped very finely, then with a few spoons of boiling water and another of soy added to their bowl along with another smashed garlic clove it was cling-filmed and cooked on medium-high in the microwave for a couple of minutes or so to steam it. Virtuous and delicious. 

Shopping Diversity

I have written previously about the money to be saved buying stuff from the 'ethnic' aisles in supermarkets, one example of where this makes sense being coconut milk, about half the price of the posher tin elsewhere. I have started looking at the similar freezer section, and found a couple of bargains there.

The first is frozen okra, cut into short pieces, the bag I think 99p containing enough for three meals' worth (I'd guess 500g). We had some in last night's curry, still tasty, easily prepared (stewed in a homemade, tomato-rich sauce), and a bit of a change. That curry btw was served with rice from a mega bag also in the Asian shelves, better quality than the 'normal' white rice we had previously and pound-for-pound much cheaper.

The other is much dearer, but on the bang-for-your-buck scale is still value for money - large freshwater prawns, raw, prepared with heads off and the body split beneath so they open out nicely in cooking, and are easy to peel. There is no comparison in terms of flavour with the very disappointing Taste the Difference king prawns 3m along the freezer, the freshwater ones reminding me of superb meals in Indonesia and the Philippines. A large bag is more than £6, but there's lots of meat (more than in the BOGOF bags that would cost £5) and tons of taste. Defrosted slowly then simply fried with salt and garlic they need nothing else to make a finger-licking starter - an occasional treat but a genuine one, and genuinely big.

Risotto for Pennies

Risotto in some form features on the menus of many high-end restaurants, with a twist or two to make it different. The basic dish, however, is good old-fashioned peasant cooking. Which means it can also be cheap (another thing that appeals to restaurateurs but that's another area altogether). Last night I fed the three of us for I'd reckon under £2, though how you cost the leftover chicken from the weekend roast is tricky.

In the morning I made the stock from the chicken carcase, stripped of flesh, very necessary to decent risotto and it's sensible to squeeze the most in money and flavour terms from your bird. An onion (5p), bayleaf from the garden, and two Sainsbury's basic carrots (a knobbly carrot is a carrot is a carrot), (10p) simmered very gently for an hour to make wonderful liquor and to fill the whole house with its scent.

The evening meal was done in 25 minutes. Another onion (5p) chopped fine and fried in oil, with a similarly treated red pepper (again knobbly basic, 25p), then a third of a pack (say 45p) of basic cooking bacon (top bargain, you tend to get big thick slices that make chunky dice as used here), half a pack of risotto rice (so less than 50p) fried until coated, then usual risotto method - add hot stock until it is soaked in, cook at medium heat giving a stir every now and then, more stock, until the rice has only the memory of chalkiness at its heart. Add diced leftover chicken to just warm through (cook it too long and it goes stringy and unpleasant), a knob of butter to melt and give it a lovely unctuous texture, season and serve. As we are not on our uppers I went wild and grated some parmesan, probably adding another 70p to the overall reckoning, though even then discounting the chicken it comes to well under £2. A veggie version using mushrooms in place of the meats (and mushroom stock) - Sainsbury's today selling a (special offer) carton of brown mushrooms for 50p - is equally good.

The world, by the way, is becoming full of special offers as we become more discriminating (meaner) about our food purchases. Local fresh foods particularly so.