Nearly Vegetarian III

On Thursday I did another vegetarian meal. Nearly vegetarian. As the intention is to cut down on meat rather than cut it out, it passes my personal test.

This, a cheaty mushroom tart, was one of the best things I've done in a while. Even SC said it was not at all bad, a paean of praise from him. Some bought puff pastry rolled out to fit my flat griddle pan, which cooks pastry nicely, was covered with a grated mozzarella, a couple of slices of Parma ham in thin ribbons, about 75p of mushrooms (and given they were bought from Morrison's this meant a lot of mushrooms) previously cooked in a little butter and a lot of garlic, then drained to keep the sogginess to the minimum. The whole thing was covered in grated Parmesan, and cooked in a hot oven (220C) for about 15 minutes.

What made it look nice was having the filling inside a margin about 2cm from the edge, the surface of the puff pastry barely cut through with the tip of a sharp knife. This rises up to make a neat wall that keeps the filling from spilling out at all.

Served with a green-ish salad (strips of red pepper perked up the colour) it was at least three of our five a day. Five minutes of prep, five to cook the 'shrooms, 15 to cook the pastry itself. It would have taken that to do a packet pizza, which for anything half-way acceptable would have cost the £4 that I reckon that set us back. And packet pizza would not have tasted half as good.

Parson Woodforde and the Great British Pie

Not that I am stuck in the past, but my new reading is Parson Woodforde's diary, or at least the Folio Society's selections from it. Somewhat less than brilliant observations: how did the middle classes and above actually manage to stand in the 18th century? The good parson drank vast quantities of wine, cider, beer, arack, punch, rum and brandy, yet it was his brother Jack who was the sot. And what did it do to their livers? One wonders if the frequent reports of deaths of apoplexy were the terminal points of organ damage caused by alcohol.

From the foodie point of view (or has foodie become as unacceptable and derogatory as luvvie now?) there is much to be gleaned from the pages of his journal. He lived well, and his guests could generally rely on a table laden with several major main-course components - a fowl, boiled pork, rost (his spelling) beef, perhaps a leg of mutton.

Somewhat inspired by this at the weekend I served visiting friends a roast chicken and a venison and beef pie, along with vegetables various. Not unsurprisingly the pie was the hit - everybody loves a pie. Please someone commission me for that TV series/book/world pie-tasting tour. Venison from Lidl, beef from Henry Rowntree, both meats cooked together in a low (125C) oven with bay, thyme, carrots and onions for two and a half hours, then freshly cooked onions, carrots and turnips added and the lot covered with cheaty Jus-Rol puff pastry. I am a fan of own brands, but for some reason the Jus-Rol stuff seemed better than the last lot of Sainsbury's I used - though they may be made together for all I know. The juice from the oven cooking was reduced and thickened with cornflour (how terribly unfashionable) then half of it spooned into the meat and veg before the pastry lid went on. About 30 minutes at 180C finished the thing off, the puff pastry lifting clear of the filling at the end. This was a pie, a Great British Pie.