Not Vegetarian Exactly

Since The Dear Leader (may those who oppose her crumble into dust) became 98.75% vegetarian I have thoroughly enjoyed the challenge of cooking what I hope is interesting food that fits the bill. Given the alternative was banishment to the ice planet Hoth, that's good.


Our regular 600 kcals Monday is a reminder of the bang you get for your vegetable (and fruit) buck. One dish in the evening was a real winner, roast butternut squash with orange segments and thinly sliced onions, served as a warm salad with the orange juice and two teaspoons of olive oil as a dressing. It will appear again on a non-fast day.


I often now envy what TDL gets served as a vegetarian when we are out and about: last weekend at Higham Hall the food I had was well cooked but frankly rather dull - basically meat and gravy, two veg, spuds; on the Saturday she had a nut roast that smelled wonderful, receiving the thumbs up from the supreme ruler. This evening she is at an event in Manchester complete with full fig dinner, and I'm fascinated to find out what they will give her, partly because it's often so much more imaginative than the corporate rubber chicken or overdone beef; partly because I am happy to nick good ideas for the future.


That said, Sternest Critic and I will be having a very blokey blowout tonight - well-matured Aberdeen Angus ribeye; mushrooms; corn on the cob; peas; tomatoes; and an avocado as a starter. I don't want to give up the pleasure, and the health benefits (B12 fix, zinc, etc), of occasional carnivorous indulgence. But it will be noted that where once we'd also have been enjoying sausage, kidneys and a chop with our steak as a mixed grill male meal the bulk of what we're getting outside tonight is vegetable - and if you're picky about toms and avos, fruit. And grain for the corn. And fungi for the 'shrooms. It isn't meat anyway.

A Rainbow on Your Breakfast Plate - and in Your Gut

We - the Dear Leader, the temporarily-home-before going-off to-Gozo Sternest Critic, and your humble servant - are on a weight loss quest for a time. Well, weight loss and health drive. That means the occasional 800 calorie day, and generally eating somewhere between 1000 and 1500 calories, with a day off every now and then. That may sound restricting, and in the mathematical sense it is of course, but to be doable without becoming boring it does mean getting creative.


Our breakfasts, except when staying in hotels or at Christmas when bacon and sausages rule, are usually pretty healthy. Currently they are - thanks Donald - bigly so. And not in a bad way - no kale smoothies, in fact given we learn from Michael Moseley that smoothies go straight through the gut and mean a sugar rush, no smoothies at all. But every morning for the past fortnight we have enjoyed a bowl of fruit (along with e.g. poached egg on wholegrain toast of some sort). Again I've tried hard  to avoid that being dull, leading to me hitting the local Asian supermarket, and looking out for what's good in Morrison's, Waitrose and Sainsbury's.


Today, for example, we had cherries, kiwi, blueberries, and golden plums (£1 for a punnet of eight or ten), with a squeeze of perfumed Egyptian lime, tiny little fruits that lift flavours even more than ordinary lemons do. Tuesday we had dragon fruit and guava with some more workaday stuff. I love guava, in spite of ripe ones smelling like men's locker room sweat. The local Chinese shop had durian in, but you have to draw the line somewhere, and fruit that smells like poo is one good place.


What is austerity in this? Eating fruit is not expensive. It takes a bit of effort to seek things out, but Morrison's wonky blueberries that contributed to two for the three of our breakfasts cost 84p. I defy anybody to explain how they were wonky too. Wonky kiwis (maybe 1.358mm shorter than non-wonky?) I think were 70p for a pack of eight. I use one sliced into six to add luminous green to the plate. Little oranges another bargain; likewise grapefruit reaching its sell-by-date and no different to full price ones in feel or as it turned out flavour for 25p. I buy full price stuff too, and dragon fruit are not cheap, but overall breakfasts for the week don't break the bank.


It's cheering to see something so lovely on the morning platter. Great for the body too, with loads of fibre (kiwis for me qualify as superfoods, though shops aren't allowed to use that word now) and vitamin C, and stuff that is good for the eyes but I can't spell. Blueberries are supposed to help the memory, per clinical tests, but they taste fab with lemon or lime on them. Cherries have some special phytonutrients that you don't find in many other foods. It won't harm your - what a very British word - regularity either.


Reading Michael Moseley's Clever Gut Diet book - he is to diet and health what HFW is to ethical food - as part of the current drive to lose a bit of weight one tip was to help your biome's diversity by eating 30 different fruits and vegetables in a week. We did that in two days, and after three are on 42 and heading ever onward. Tinned stuff in there for pennies; our own veg still (PSB, swiss chard, sprouting seeds, kale and leaks at present, we had too the last of our stored squash on Monday and some of our own stored garlic, along with loads of herbs that I haven't counted in the total); wonky or (per Sainsbury's) greengrocers' F&V are super cheap. And some fruits are reduced in price (like cheese) when they are approaching ripeness.


[Standing up] I am not Spartacus. Nor am I vegetarian. Friday's evening meal will be steak for SC and me, fish for the DL. But for our own good, and with more than a nod at helping the only planet we have to live on, and because they are so tasty, F&V make up the bulk of our nutrition. If that sounds poncey, my apologies. Lunch today will be baked beans on toast. Demotic and delicious.

Intravenous Pies

Two months ago we started on what was euphemistically dubbed our Alternative Eating Programme, having determined en famille that we all needed to lose a few kilos.

There were in my case numerous reasons to think it necessary to do so - in no particular order: 

1. Some Type 2 Diabetes in the family history; 
2. My father, whom I resemble in many ways, is nowadays significantly overweight, and I have started to think about such long-term health issues; 
3. I was developing a belly that same father told me once begun could never be lost;
4. A friend, a year younger than I, died suddenly last year;
5. We are heading for the Indian Ocean this summer: surfer shorts with beer-gut  - not a good look.

I read around the subject, and it made sense to follow GI dietary guidelines, i.e. reduce fats and oils in cooking, go big on fresh fruits and veg (with exceptions - no dates, no big loss, beetroot and broad beans, more of a blow); all starches to be wholemeal; no frying unless unavoidable; grill meats. Add to that the use of plenty of chilli (it supposedly speeds the metabolism); plus zero-fat yogurts (calcium helps bind fats and rushes them through the system).

We have eaten really well since this began: no missed meals, Friday still brings plebean (alternative spelling to irritate Ms B) steak night, puddings aplenty (but fruit-based). In austerity terms it has cost more (though had we been doing this between June and September it would have been far cheaper, our allotment and garden providing masses of F&V then). I felt a bit hungry on two occasions at the day's end, but otherwise no lethargy (important given SC is entering exam period) in fact quite the opposite, no stomach complaints, nothing much to report. We feel reasonably full, our diet is balanced and varied, calorific intake probably a couple of hundred below the norm (if there is such a thing). But the weight has dropped off.

Actually I have overshot my target and am considering using pies intravenously to rebalance things. 

Apparently women do reduce more slowly than men, but The Dear Leader - less in need than her subjects - has likewise clearly slimmed down (for reasons of state security her weight is kept secret from us). Which all makes me wonder: how come slimming is such a massive industry? Is it a similar thing to processed foods - there because so many are incapable of doing the work themselves?

Buying Memories

Whether it's something to do with a growing realisation that ones time on this earth is not unlimited, or the remnants of a sense of adventure I know not, but I do like to take culinary opportunities to buy memories. For those with deeper pockets than mine (though happily they remain far from empty) such memories may include meals cooked by major chefs with major egos and international profiles. I'm happier to settle for simpler things.

One such last year was what felt like an investment in three T-bone steaks that were barbecued to perfection and gnawed until nothing of their fleshy deliciousness remained. The cost was more than £30, if memory serves, but I'm certain that it will be the yardstick against which any future T-bone indulgence is measured by our small son (a mere 6' 2.5").

On our break in Norfolk last week another such - though far cheaper - chance arose. Driving back from Potter Heigham we spotted a fisherman selling freshly boiled Cromer crabs from a trailer parked in a lay-by. Noting exotic about any of that, clearly. And why should it need to be exotic? What was marvellous was that we got to eat a whole superbly fresh crab each (the vendor removed the dead-man's fingers as we waited), the cost for the three just over £8. I guess that doesn't qualify as austerity cooking on two levels - no cooking involved, and £8 could pay for several meals if you tried.

There is something extraordinarily satisfying about eating a crab as they should be: cracking the legs and claws, poking the innumerable cavities to get the last bits of meat. That is perhaps austerity thinking in a way.

A crab and a couple of slices of brown bread and butter each were the sole components of our lunch once we had returned to my father's house (he'd lunched already and anyway hates all seafood). It needed no wine, no sauce, no cooking beyond the boiling done that morning. The taste made me happy, and so too did the way we all tackled the task. It took several soapings to get rid of the crabby scent, all adding to the memory.

Walnuts are the New London Buses

A skim through my calorie counter book yielded a few surprises. Take for example walnuts, at 50 kcals for one large nut. Which means that a smallish grilled rump steak is just about equivalent to four of them. My wife is now cursing me, as walnuts have been a regular feature in her packed-lunch salads for years.

Four teaspoons of oil have the same calorific value as that steak/those nuts too. Weird.

The nice surprises (and the steak thing counts as one of those, let's look at and possibly through half full glasses) include water chestnuts and bamboo shoots, where a small can of each runs to a total of roughly 50 kcals (one walnut - now to calories what the London bus is to height, or the area of Wales to disappearing rainforests). And a generous portion of coleslaw made with light mayo is round about - yes, you guessed, a walnut of calories. I love coleslaw.

Mushrooms, another favourite, are deceptive. Just 13 kcals for 100g raw or boiled (I guess I've done that in stews, but never on their own), they shoot up to 157 when fried in oil.

Happily eggs are pretty austere on the calorie front, at about 80 when poached or boiled. Happily, as our four hens produce enough for cooking and for our breakfast every other day.

We refuse to use the dreaded D word and to go on one, so tonight's meal will be our usual Friday fare of steak for males and fish for the supreme leader. They will, however, be carefully cooked and served with super healthy stuff again: steamed French beans and mushrooms (done in a way yet to be decided, but microwave-steamed may work), steamed new spuds. With a salad to start our virtue will be assured. Then sod it, and glory be, a Magnum - it's the weekend, and the dear leader in particular deserves a treat - Magnum Classic being five walnuts of calories.

How Much for a Memory?

Anyone who has read a few of the posts here will realize that we are not living austerely. We try to make the most of what we have, which is plenty; to reduce waste; to grow many of our own vegetables; and to eat fresh foods freshly cooked, rather than rely on cook-chill crap. I cook and shop carefully because that is the way I'm made, not because we are skint. But when we feel the need to do so we push the boat out, and Friday was one such occasion.

Last year we didn't have a single BBQ as far as I can recall. The weather for the last two weeks has been so good that we have eaten half our evening meals outside, and on Friday I thought it was time to fire up the charcoal. We don't have a good butcher nearby, though Booth's supermarket is not at all bad. I headed instead for a farm shop about five miles away, knowing they would be likely to have T-bone steaks. They did.

If there is anything that cooks better on a BBQ than T-bone I have yet to find it. It helps that the fillet is tender to start with; the bone somehow keeps the meat moist; and the fat around the sirloin caramelizes superbly. You may start with knife and fork, but unless you are totally po-faced you end with fingers, gnawing at the bone.

Behind the extravagance was the thought that this was buying a special moment for us and our son. I have a terrible feeling that our climate has changed, with a mild wet season having replaced summer as it used to be. Let's hope that is wrong, but meanwhile nothing is lost by surfing this heatwave, beyond a rather eye-watering £34 for three huge steaks. Which is still cheap for a memory. 

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. 

Fashion in Food

Fashion in food is responsible for some vile things. Food presented on bits of slate - thank you Mr Flintstone but no. The word jus. Flavour combinations that were never meant to be, but which are supposed to have us saying: "How clever." Certain celebrity chefs.

Chefs take themselves very seriously, and rightly so as it is a real skill or set thereof, but some go beyond professional right back into their own rear ends, and few critics ever tell them so, thus we continue to be peppered with daft dishes, and new trends. One thousand ways to make cupcakes etc, when one is more than enough, cupcakes are dull.

The most ridiculous combination I ever ate was in 1989, I can still recall the precise day. At the time it was probably the epitome of food fashion. I had driven from Dusseldorf to a hotel in a village near Sneek in the northern Netherlands, and needed comfort food for a particular reason beyond the lengthy trek. The menu was in Dutch, my mind was elsewhere, so I ordered what I thought was simply steak. It was steak, but surrounded by blackcurrant sauce. The meat tasted of blackcurrants, the few veg likewise. I pushed the plate aside and moved on.

Food should lift us. But that day even the best steak in the world would have failed to raise my spirits. On the journey I'd tuned to BBC radio to listen to the football, the voice of Peter Jones normally so bright immediately registered as devastated. It was April 15th. He was commentating, if that is the right word, on the unfolding of the Hillsborough tragedy. I had to pull off the road as I started to sob. There are so many more things more important than provenance, jus, and cupcakes.

The Juice on Jus - Maxing One Flame Flavour

An aspect of the post yesterday about cooking a steak or a lamb chop set me to thinking about how much flavour can be won or lost after the meat has been lifted from the pan. Unless you have cooked it too long you are likely to have some of the juices glistening in the skillet in front of you, and maybe some scraps adhering to the surface where the flesh caught briefly. The austerity cook, or any decent cook really, wants to make the most of these, and with just a tiny effort you can capture them in a simple sauce to accompany the meat. My apologies to anyone for whom this is second nature.

The first method is deglazing: add a good dash of alcohol to the hot pan, scrape the bits up and stir in the juices, then reduce for a second and pour over the chop. Wine is ideal, white or red, if you have some on the go, or the dregs of a bottle saved with a Vacuvin. Cider is good, and suits say thin pork escalopes done this way. From reviewing I have loads of brandies and rums that I find useful for this, though only a small amount is needed, the flavour being powerful - and take care you don't inadvertently flambe yourself. Best of all is dry vermouth with the bonus of herby notes. The resulting liquid can be thickened with butter, a dab of French mustard, a slurp of ketchup - tomato or mushroom - or a slurp of cream (not creme fraiche for me). If no suitable alcohol is to hand water's ok, but you gain no taste.

Bunnahabhain Distillery

Alternatively a pat of butter or some cream will mix with the juices, but be conservative as otherwise you'll not taste anything else, and here the pan must not be too hot or you'll waste juice and all.

It doesn't have to be just meat. During a press trip on Islay chef Francois Bernier seered locally dived scallops in a dry pan, then used Bunnahabhain whisky to stretch the juices, and in that case to flambe the scallops, with if memory serves a spoon of butter to bind the results together. This was one of the best things I have ever eaten, and with all due respect to Francois, so simple. He, by the way, was using a single Calor Gas burner to cook at the distillery.

One Flame Cooking Fang Man Style

This evening's meal includes the ultimate bloke-carnivore thing, the flash-fry steak. Sternest Critic likes his still capable of movement, oozing red juices that might put Dracula off, which means about 30 seconds each side on a very hot and minimally oiled pan. My wife and I both go for rare edging towards medium-rare.

Again when in France with just the one Calor Gas burner a small steak was frequently the protein component of an evening meal, some balance provided by carbs from the ubiquitous French stick, veg from the traiteur section of the supermarket - a small tub of celeri-remoulade, Russian or lentil salad or something similar - followed by a cake and some fruit and cheese. So a three/four course meal with only one thing needing heat. With a bit of forethought I'd have a few mushrooms to pop in the pan with the steak, broadening things a bit, or a drained tin (no freezer) of French beans. 

French beans cooked in the leftover meat juices from steak, with a knob of butter and a crushed clove of garlic, is something I'll still do for three of us now, good way to use the jus (a word that like pod people took over without us noticing) and no additional washing up, and it forces me to give the meat a couple of minutes' rest. We have a dishwasher but old habits die hard and the fewer times it runs the better, economically and environmentally.

De Pomiane takes such thinking further in his Cooking in Ten Minutes, dashing off a five course meal in that time, a trick that I'll try every now and then. It's not hard with some thought: starter some slices of salami or a pack of mixed charcuterie and a gherkin or two. Main course steak or lamb chop, both fine underdone though if you get the pan heating when the whistle blows you can have it well done, should you (why?) wish to do so, with said mushrooms or green beans as above; next a small pack of pre-washed salad (I never buy the big ones as they are too much for three people and the remains inevitably wilt and lose their attraction) with any suitable additions available from the fridge like cucumber and red pepper, dressed with my own vinaigrette (bought stuff is stupidly expensive and far too sweet), followed by a simple pud - bought pastry, ice-cream bought or homemade, or virtuously some fruit, with cheese after if we are going the full English route, or before if it's continental that night. You can argue either way and feel free to do so, just don't look down your nose at someone who orders it differently. 

The secret with such a meal is not to have too much of any dish. It's a taste of something and move on when you want to, though you have to time things around the steak.