Everyone Loves Noodles

I was going to call this post something like 'a quick supper', which the dish was, but that would have been too Nigel Slater - good ideas, prissy-fussy writing style.

Those nearly straight to wok noodles - softened in boiling water for a minute or so - are a godsend when you need to get food on the table quickly. Work had kept me from preparing anything, and both Joe and I were hungry, so a noodle dish was the simple solution. Or as Nigel would write: Work had kept me at my desk facing a pale antique-ivory screen, looking out over the trees shedding their leaves of medieval gold. Both Joe and I were hungry. So a noodle dish made a quick and comforting supper. At this time of year noodles call to me etc.... And we're back again.

Quick tends to mean with little or no meat, thus cheap-ish. In this case I defrosted a bag of tiny prawns for the protein component, so not for pennies but still economical. Chopping veg into matchsticks in order that they cook at the same speed is easy when they are peppers and carrots, but onions are trickier, a case for judgement - you want a bit of browning, thus thin half-moons here. A red chilli cut into fairly wide slices perked the dish up, and added a touch of colour.

Thursday and not a lot of fresh veg in the kitchen, so I defrosted some broccoli florets (top bargain by the way and these were not mushy as I had feared when buying as an experiment) and when drained added them to the stir-fry that with soy sauce and a dash of sesame oil had a touch of braise about it at the end. Not a scrap left over.

The Casserole Queen

Not me - if I were the casserole queen I'd demand to use the line let them eat casserole - but some annoying actress on a TV ad, saying (obviously from her script) she merits that title because she re-heats something bought at Morrison's or Asda (I think). I hate to think what it costs to feed a family on such cook-chill stuff, but I'm willing to bet it is rather higher than the cheapo midweek chicken stew we had two nights ago: £1 for four plump chicken drumsticks, £0.50 for a half-pack (if that) of 'recipe bacon' (as ever I found one with what amount to massive bacon-chop off-cuts, perfect to dice big or small), a giant leek from the allotment, two big carrots, a parsnip, an onion, and three spuds. A single red chilli and a shake or two of smoked paprika pepped it up, celery salt and a fat clove of garlic added depth. Thickened with cornflour (how unfashionable) it was unctuous and comforting, with a bit of bite too. The juices we dipped up with doorstep slices from a cottage loaf.

If the lot - enough for dinner for we two lumberjacks currently at home, and for me to reheat next day for my lunch - came to £2.50 I'd be surprised. The sad thing is that many of those who really need to get by on such sums will be spending more on the supermarket versions, lacking the basic cookery skills to fend properly for themselves.

On Variety - but not Brucie's Version

Variety is the spice of life, and of food. That less than spectacularly original thought came to mind after I noticed someone pushing yet another wonder-super-magical-anti-everything food the other day. Cranberries or blackberries I think, but couldn't swear to it as my mind switches off as soon as these items appear on radio, TV or in an article. Eat tonnes to live forever or something. The dull truth is that the body needs a load of different minerals, vitamins and other components, so the best health policy for those not afflicted with allergies is eat as many different things as you can, not focus on the properties of one, however beneficial to certain conditions.

That translates in shopping terms into not just buying the same old same old every weekly trip to Tesco/JS/Waitrose etc. I am as guilty as the next man or woman, my basket generally contains carrots, onions, peppers and mushrooms. We all have staples, habits, tropes. Admittedly we have the allotment for other stuff (still picking Jerusalem artichokes, leeks, kale, runner beans and  red cabbage), but I am going to push myself to add different fruit and veg, different colours of the same veg and fruits, and different ways of preparing them.



I already have an unofficial policy of not having the same starch-base two days in a row, or the same meat if meat is used, but that won't be enough.

Variety in cooking styles too can't be a negative - Ruth pointed out the other day that though not on a weekly cycle repeats or close-to-repeats have of late come up every fortnight or so - Chinese, a braise, casserole, steak night, pasta with sauce, risotto, gratin, paella all favourites. So we are agreed variety is a good thing. A boring conclusion but not as boring as the the supposed king of Variety (and actual emperor of self-regard), Bruce Forsyth.

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. 

There is Nothing Like an Egg

We have chickens at the bottom of our very long (and thin) garden. No neighbours at the back to annoy - there are allotments over the brook - so that's the best place for them. At present we have two laying, one in retirement (though perhaps laying very very occasionally still) that we are too cowardly to do away with, and one youngster still a good fortnight off being productive. The upshot is we get two eggs a day currently. Eggs that taste of egg are a boon to the cook.

Yesterday I made a cake spiced with mace and cinnamon, into which two very fresh eggs went. Last week egg mayonnaise, such a simple thing to do, was as ever appreciated as the eggs taste wonderful. We just gave a couple to the people who have moved in next door, saying sorry for recent escapes into their garden by the youngster who doesn't yet know better. Where she is getting through the hedge and chicken wire still a mystery.

Omelettes are equally enjoyable, and the simplest thing to make. Made with good eggs like these you don't need a filling. I have a feeling that as austerity bites further, and we find that we don't bounce back to quite as high as we were before, that more people will be keeping hens.

There is a lesson in the keeping of them for the cook or menu planner too. I am convinced the more they are out and about, adding variety to their diet (layers' pellets plus loads of scraps and plenty of seed), and the happier they are, the better the eggs. It's hard to verify this hypothesis scientifically, but I remain certain. And the stuff they eat to make the eggs better is an eye-opener: blood-worms are a special treat; wood-lice; slugs; larvae found in the soil (species unknown); grass; dandelions; the occasional mouse-head left by our cat; once or twice when we couldn't intervene in time a baby frog. Nature red in beak and claw as it were. But no complaints as there is nothing like an egg, or (Wodehouse would be proud) a good egg.

Simple Savoury Pies

One of my fondest childhood culinary memories is of a great aunt who every time we went to stay with the family would produce what used to be called a plate pie - a shallow pie-dish filled with something savoury, like (her version) mince, onions, and tiny diced carrots, sometimes with small pieces of spud to bulk it out. This was covered in decidedly thick shortcrust pastry, so it was a filler-upper. And a very cheap supper.

Cow Pie

I felt a bit ashamed the other day using bought puff pastry (but it was Sainsbury's own, far cheaper than the big brand one and no damn different) to make something along those lines. I had three chicken thigh fillets to use, some scraps of cooking bacon (I say again, what is the other stuff for if not for cooking?) one of our big thick leeks sliced finely, and a few mushrooms. Each element was cooked separately in oil and butter, one after the next - a question of capacity and washing up - then mixed in the oval dish and the lot cooked in the fan-oven at 180C for about 25 minutes (not the 10 claimed on the packet). Served with beans and stovies it was a one course meal that warmed, filled and satisfied. At a rough guess the pie cost £3.50, and for something that substantial bought in packets I reckon we'd have paid £6 in the shops.

With the upsurge in interest in baking chi-chi cakes and muffins recently it is time we had a revival of the great British pie on TV (producers, please employ me to work on this). The cow pie pictured above, enjoyed at a Keswick pub-restaurant, shows the way forward.

Star Star Anise

Home-made Chinese food too often focuses on stir fries to the exclusion of many more interesting methods and recipes. In my past life I got to travel in China, Taiwan and various Asian countries where the Chinese tended to dominate business (as they soon will around the world). A frequent favourite dish on those travels was variations on beef soup flavoured with star anise, the best being made with oxtail.

I have since found that a passable imitation can be made with leftover beef gravy (real gravy, not the stuff made with powder) or the juices from a beef stew. On Saturday we had one such, started as ever with a gently fried chopped onion, to which a finely chopped red chilli was added before the sieved juices of a stew from two days earlier were poured in and two whole star anise and a couple of big chunks of ginger were plopped in to simmer nicely for the best part of an hour (the few scraps of meat added at the last minute to avoid them going stringy along with a ready softened nest of noodles).

Not haute cuisine, but a good element of a Chinese meal that had the twin virtues of tasting great and costing next to nothing. Made with leftovers but there were no leftovers afterwards this time.