'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS ...

Hello and festive greetings to fellow food-lovers everywhere!

Christmas Eve, the best day of the year in my book, with all its delicious anticipation of good things to come.  When you've finally sat down in front of a roaring fire - perhaps with the Nine Lessons and Carols from Kings on the radio, a glass of sherry (mine's a dry Oloroso please!) and a mince pie in hand, the presents piled up under the tree, the Christmas cake iced and the candles lit - you can relax and forget about rushing about on icy roads and in busy shops because there's nothing you can do now - if you've left something off the list it's too late to worry about, so you may as well chill out and enjoy the evening in its full festive glory! 

I'm going to make the most of a couple of days off work to potter about and cook in a leisurely fashion in the familiarity of my own kitchen, something I don't do enough of these days - much as I enjoy cooking at work it's totally different. Today we baked a small ham and will have thick slices of it tomorrow morning for brunch with buttered croissants and warm crusty rolls, fresh clementine juice and lots of coffee.  Tonight we are just going to have a candlelit picnic and nibble on smoked salmon sandwiches, homemade sausage rolls, prawn cocktail and salads.   Tomorrow's main feast will be a twinkly twilight affair, after we've had time to phone our families, open our presents and play with our new toys. There's a lovely hunk of juicy venison fillet to be rolled in herbs and crushed juniper berries then seared in a smoking hot pan, finished in the oven and served rare with fresh cranberry gravy.  Venison does like a fruity accompaniment as the meat is rich, though very lean.  To accompany we have maris pipers roasted in hot goose fat, sprouts blanched and then tossed with smoked bacon and toasted almonds, honey-roast parsnips and buttered carrots.   No leaden lumps of Christmas pudding for us but we might be able to force down a couple of these little homemade Christmas puddinis (thank you Nigella!) which are tiny orbs of loveliness made with little pieces of crumbled christmas pudding, melted chocolate and sherry, rolled up and decorated to look like a mini Dickensian pud.   Genius!  

Depending on the weather we might go for a walk at some point but won't beat ourselves up if we don't manage it!  Dinner will be a late afternoon/early evening event and though it takes virtually no time to eat such a feast the amount of time and effort spent preparing it is a work-out in itself and no mistake.  For non-foodies this can seem an insurmountable marathon and I can fully understand the appeal of Aunt Bessie and other ready-made alternatives to home cooking - the main thing is that people are eating happily together on this special day.

Boxing Day is a working day for me but those of you who have made merry with turkey go forth and fashion yourselves some wonderful leftovers - I adore a cold roast turkey sandwich with cranberry sauce and stuffing and indeed the much-maligned - though goodness knows why - turkey curry, coronation turkey and turkey goujons.  Long live the turkey leftover is what I say!  

Anyway, it's time to bid you farewell and to wish all my beloved blog-readers and Lobster Cards customers a very happy Christmas.  Merry munching one and all - and to all, a good night.

AMT xx

Blustery days, dark nights

Hello!  I hope Autumn is treating you all well - didn't we have a fantastic Indian summer in October? How lucky we were!  Just a few days ago I was on the beach near Rye in hot sun, we were staying in a beautiful beach house and had lunch outside in T-shirts and evening drinks on the patio watching the sun set over the sea - amazing. The trees have been gorgeous over the last couple of weeks and a visit to the National Trust's beautiful Scotney Castle near Lamberhurst has some stunning examples, especially the maple shown here by the old boat house.

Then November arrived with gusto -  gales, torrential rain and a real nip in the air on sunnier days.  More like real Autumn. I love frosty blue mornings more than any other I think, to be able to wrap up warm without having to take your fleece off 5 minutes later, to go for a walk and come back all rosy-cheeked and in the mood for hot chocolate and crumpets by the fire.

Food-wise I adore autumn and winter, when you can slow-cook meltingly rich casseroles, make thick pureed soups and hot fruit pies and crumbles. In the pub where I cook, we have a huge log fire roaring in the grate and are serving plenty of comfort food - Thai curry, Hungarian goulash, hearty soups - spicy butternut squash, curried parsnip and roasted tomato and basil. Pies too - chicken, leek and tarragon with a puff pastry lid and a creamy fish pie bubbling with bronzed cheesy mash on top.  Yummy in your tummy and so much more satisfying to make and eat than another caesar salad, much as I love those in summer.  

There is so much produce around at this time of year, a haven for the fruit and vegetable-lover. Game is also in season - and venison will definitely feature at home and at work soon. Whether you casserole it or sear the beautiful fillet leaving it pink and juicy in the middle it's a wonderful lean and tasty meat. I love it with dauphinoise potatoes and perhaps some savoy cabbage. It's a good festive alternative to turkey as well ... but let's not go there just yet, it's only early November!  

Oh and Lobster Cards will be offering a selection of Christmas cards soon and also some items which would make great presents, so please do look out for a few new things appearing in the online shop in the next couple of weeks.

Meantime, happy cooking!

AMT

Welcome to the season of yellow fruitiness!

Hello!

1st September can only mean one thing : Christmas stuff in the shops.  Bah, I say, BAH!   That element of the onset of autumn I do not relish one little bit - can't we at least get Bonfire Night out of the way first?  BUT looking on the bright side, September also means trees groaning with ripe fruit, juicy brambles down the lane and the trees starting to turn into hues of burnished gold - with a bit of soggy brown thrown in no doubt.    

We have 3 mature Victoria plum trees and this year there are so many rosy golden plums we will be making jam and chutney for months - hurrah.  The Bramley apple tree is weighed down with huge red and green orbs, unfortunately most of the apples on the higher branches are rotting in their too-close clumps and we can't get to them before they are ruined.  How the chickens haven't been felled by the falling ones plummeting to earth or bouncing off the shed roof I don't know!

At work we have freshly-picked brambles to go with Bramleys in yummy oaty crumbles.We made little steamed blackberry sponges too, with lemon and honey to have with hot custard or cold cream.  We're looking forward to changing the menu soon - the salads will be on the wane and there will be a welcome influx of homemade soups, casseroles and pies.   Not that any of us would complain if we had an Indian summer over the next few weeks, it would be lovely to have hot sun for a bit longer.  But I'm really looking forward to being able to cook proper comfort food again.  As the weather cools down people will drop in on their weekend hikes in boots and fleeces with rosy cheeks and cold hands ready to wrap around a mug of hot chocolate or a bowl of pumpkin soup, or to tuck into a deep-filled steak and ale pie with creamy mash to have with a pint of the local brew before they stride off suitably fortified, their breath billowing on the frosty air - or not, as the case may be ... if we have a damp and murky autumn they're more likely to be peering reluctantly into the gloom and mist and deciding to stay for another pint!

So, the nights are drawing in noticeably now - the chicks are zigzagging off to bed by 8pm and the runner beans are finally slowing down their mammoth production.  We had a tasty lunch the other day - a salad of runners mixed with cannellini beans, red onion, a garlicky vinaigrette, smoked crisp bacon and toasted flaked almonds - if I'd had some pine-nuts they would have been great instead but the almonds were tasty and it all made a suitable accompaniment to homemade puff-pastry pizza tarts filled with pesto, parma ham, ripe tomatoes and melting cheese.  Then warm oozing brownies with boozy cream afterwards ...

More veg watch : although the beans have been a huge success in our novices' veg garden, I'm afraid we were too idle with the weeding to have a successful crop of carrots and everything was a bit overcrowded so the vast courgette plants overshadowed the peppers and chillis and the courgettes never grew much bigger than a manly-size finger - tasty though.  The strawberries were delicious though we only had 7 and they got eaten straight off the plants and the tomatoes are in full swing but next year must do better with feeding them and staking them.    We've pulled out all the broad beans and peas now - moderately successful on both of those but the broccoli has been nibbled heavily and is covered in furry caterpillars, so the best we can do is feed the holey leaves to the chicks who would do ANYTHING for a bite, broccoli leaves are their absolute favourite.  They also adore the runner bean leaves so they get daily treats of both.  If only I were so easily pleased!

As regards Lobster Cards, there was an exciting event in August - the Telegraph contacted me and asked for images so that they could put a small feature in the Saturday magazine on the Food News page - it was a wonderful snippet and generated a flurry of welcome sales - things had been rather quiet over the summer so far - so thank you very much to the Telegraph and specifically to Carolyn Hart for that very timely piece of free advertising!  I've sold lots of jute bags, cards and cookie cutters and am about to introduce a new design of jute bag and some more lobstery artefacts the shop so watch this space ... and thanks to all of you who have purchased so far and for reading this blog - I'm looking forward to sharing more cooking tips and photos with you again soon.

Must go bake ...

Happy cooking!

AMT

Shall we dine?

Hello!

Sometimes it's so nice to have someone else cook for you.  Now that I cook at home AND at work I don't always want to have to think about what to have or to cook.  Takeaways - well, they have their place, but going out for dinner and being waited on is even better once in a while. We are spoilt for choice here and it reminds me that when I was growing up what little choice there was by comparison. I mean, unless you are in a tiny village most people can go out for dinner these days, not too far from home and choose from almost any international cuisine rather than just Italian, Chinese or Indian as in days of yore. I mean, amongst everything else we have two Nepalese restaurants in our small town and both are superb. But before we decide whether we fancy sushi, eclectic British, French or Himalayan Gurkha fare let us go back in time for a moment to those days when eating out was such a special treat - something that was planned for weeks and for which best dresses were donned and best behaviour was required ....

OK, so we're back in the mid-'70s. Can you tell it was my favourite era? When we were little and went out it was so exciting. Certainly there was no such thing as a gastro-pub or one of those super-family-friendly kind of places you get now - but because of that it made the event more special somehow. We couldn't just dash out to the Japanese noodle bar for a quick fix and Zizzi hadn't been invented, so what did we do? Well, when we were splashing out for an occasion we had a few favourite places near us. The Three Kingdoms was the only Chinese restaurant in town that wasn't just a takeaway and it was  attractively situated on a mad roundabout in the middle of the one-way system near the railway station.  Parking, as you can imagine, wasn't easy.  But once we had battled our way to the entrance, dodging traffic, trains and weather, we were faced with the enticingly (and forbiddingly) modern, smoky, dark plate glass frontage (you couldn't see in but They could definitely See Out) with its blue Diners Club and American Express symbols stuck slightly skew on the door. Inside there was a patterned, bamboo-y interior, around which wafted some relaxingly exotic plinky music.  Shiny and slightly fierce waiters slid about tinily between the white-clothed tables with deliciously fragrant and sizzling dishes. We'd dive on the prawn crackers (who doesn't) and then share a selection of dishes which haven't really changed at all over the years. Special fried rice, sweet and sour prawn balls with all that orange shiny gloop - divinely disgusting. Cashew or lemon chicken - bliss. Chow mein - hmm, too many slimy beansprouts for me. Crispy beef - got stuck in your teeth for weeks but one muddled through somehow. Aromatic crispy duck was the piece de resistance, with all the fun stuff attached - the waiter theatrically  shredding the meat at the table and donning a pile of thin white pancakes and accompaniments with alacrity, after which we could roll our own juicy morsels with the tiny batons of cucumber, spring onion and a lovely dollop of plum or hoi-sin sauce. Yum!  I could have eaten a whole half duck on my own I'm sure. Then of course we'd spoil it all by forcing down a few eyeballs for afters ... I mean shouldn't lychees (along with okra) be banned from the planet forthwith, or is it just moi? Anyway, so that might be a Friday night once in a while and lovely it was too. We'd get home at 10 and be allowed to stay up and watch a bit of Dave Allen or Monty Python before bed while Ma and Pa had a nightcap.  

Otherwise, there were a couple of  little genteel family-run restaurants aspiring to be a bit posh - this type was often above a shop  - with names like Le Chanticleer or La Petite Maison, where we would go for birthday meals on Saturday nights or Sunday lunchtimes. People whispered in these places, above the barely audible and crackly tape playing Vivaldi's Four Seasons or Air on the G string  - everyone behaved as if they were in church and the clink of glasses and clatter of cutlery on china was much louder than the sound of people actually enjoying themselves. You could just hear the odd "pass the salt, dear" or "waiter, could my wife have another fork please", things like that. I remember my sisters and I got the giggles terribly once, because an awfully serious and tidy silver-service waitress whose face I can remember to this day came along with the vegetables and as she got to each person she'd look us in the eye and hiss "parsley potatoes Sir/Madam?" under her breath at us one by one, until we couldn't sit up straight for trying not to laugh and tears were sprouting cos it was so funny and ridiculous. Mum and Dad were trying hard to keep us under control but were beside themselves too so it all went hopelessly wrong. Our lovely Granny always came out with us for family meals and her crisp perm would bob about anxiously above her Liberty print frock as she watched the horror unfold and whilst trying to keep a straight face herself. Which only made things worse of course. The waitress fortunately didn't take too much umbrage at our shocking manners and gave in to giggles herself eventually - she couldn't even get the words out by the time she got round to Dad - "ppppsly pppptatoes, Sssir?" - let alone deliver the green-flecked bullets to their rightful slots without pinging them on to the floor. I fear that a couple of them did bounce under the table and possibly got kicked about slightly, to a soundtrack of tutting from the lady who had got another fork.

Then there was the odd Italian "Trat" (checky tablecloths, breadsticks, floppy pasta, raffia'd Chianti bottles housing dusty red candles) or the little French-style brasserie (checky tablecloths, baskets of fake french bread, langoustines, steaks and lovely thin frites). Or if we were on holiday, perhaps driving around the Lake District or Devon, there would be hotel restaurants to eat in. I loved those. We wore our best dresses, lacy knee-socks and patent leather shoes and we would meet for drinks in the swirly-carpeted bar half an hour before our table was ready. Dad would come down in his grey flannels, navy blazer and some dreadful paisley cravat to sip a G&T, mum would waft in in a caftan on a wave of Elnette and teetering on her wedges towards her dry Martini. We would slurp lemonade or Coke on the rocks through stripy straws and then suck on the slice of lemon grimacing hideously. There was  much nipping to the Ladies to check that our alice bands were on straight before we were directed to our table. 

In the dining room, waiters pulled out red velvet chairs and pushed us up to the table, flapping proper napkins onto our laps - soooo swish and sophisticated. And they'd come round and deliver the plates and condiments swiftly and silently - shame about the "mustard, sir?" moment though ... my sister was most put out and wished she hadn't had her hair cut so short...

Menus were very limited of course, though at the time we didn't think so - they seemed just splendid. Starter choices would always include the obligatory half a grapefruit with a glace cherry perched classily in the middle. Then there might be some sliced melon with port (hmm, OK but even better if there was a sliver of salty Parma ham atop) or half an avocado pear ("eugh, it's just like eating soap" said Cousin Richard), with a pool of vinaigrette in the hollow. Or a small glass of concentrated orange or tomato juice, on a plate WITH A DOILY.  Why concentrated juice was considered an adequate starter I'll never know. Or "Soup of the Day" - woe betide if it was minestrone but I loved the French Onion with its cheesy crouton on top. If poss I went for prawn cocktail, or pâtė if it was on the menu, with bendy toast and a sprig of parsley on the side. Often, it had more than a hint of Pedigree Chum about it ... Dad once peered down at his and asked the waiter why his slice of "pâtė maison" was so perfectly round and the answer was "because chef can't buy it in square tins, sir".

Thence to the the main courses ... there were a lot of stews and breaded things, I remember. Veal escalopes - very contraversial and they were my fave, fried and with a twist of lemon on the side and some sautėed potatoes and peas  - heavenly. Gammon and pineapple - vile and to be avoided at all costs but no hotel or pub menu would be complete without it. Steak and kidney pie or Coq au Vin. Baked trout with almonds, the occasional lobster thermidor - only for super-special occasions! Dad would usually go for a mixed grill or sirloin steak - rare - and chips. Possibly with a flat grilled mushroom and a gobbet of garlic and parsley butter on the side.

Then there was The Dessert Trolley which is thankfully a thing of the past now - we'd have our beady eyes on it throughout the meal, whilst eying up our fellow diners to see who was ordering what and whether the flaccid chocolate profiteroles would all go before we had a chance to get any. It would squeak past us throughout the evening and then go back again to its dark corner minus a few more portions of ghastly gateaux, the remains of which were all the while getting warmer and runnier. (It always paid to book your table early - get in there at 7pm and you might not get salmonella by 9). Sherry trifle (Granny always ordered it and the soggier the better), lurid cream cakes of varying types, Black Forest Gateau being the most sophisticated of course, fruit fools and possibly a rubbery chocolate or lemon mousse, so loaded with gelatin that you were chewing on it for hours. Much safer to have the cheese (brie, stilton, mild cheddar) and biscuits with obligatory grapes (seeds in of course). Absolutely splendid and I wouldn't have changed any of it for the world!

Happy eating out!

AMT

Lavender Loveliness

It's been rather too cool and windy for several days now and this weather is playing havoc with both my already wild hairdo and my 9-foot beanstalks - time for some stillness and sunshine I think! I haven't spent as much time in the garden as I would have liked in the last couple of weeks but I'm choosing to believe the optimistic forecasts of a gorgeous August. The haze and cloud is good for taking floral photos though as it makes colours stand out so much better than when they are blasted in harsh summer brightness. This breathtaking field of lavender is located not in Provence but in a corner of Kent and I was lucky enough to be standing in the middle of it the other day, breathing in the headily scented air while I snapped away and came home feeling thoroughly restored. If you get a chance to visit Castle Farm near Shoreham it's well worth it both for the beautiful views and the gorgeous farm shop.  See http://www.hopshop.co.uk.  

I trundled home happily with goodies of course - some culinary lavender essence (milder than regular lavender oil) and some dried buds and a recipe leaflet and got baking forthwith. The smell of the shortbread emanating from the oven was fantastic - buttery, fragrant and sugary-warm all at once. You can use the essence for cold drinks, jams, ice-creams etc too and the the combination of citrus and lavender in baking is particularly good.  The shortbread can be served on its own or with strawberries and lavender cream perhaps.  Chocolate and lavender are also a gorgeous combination so I think some floral truffling will be occurring sometime very soon ...

Anyway, to make the shortbread just mix 100g soft unsalted butter with 50g golden caster sugar till creamy.  Add a few drops of culinary essence and some grated lemon zest.  Tip in 100g plain flour and 50g rice flour plus a good pinch of lavender buds and combine into a soft dough. Press it into a 20-inch loose-bottomed cake tin, sprinkle with sugar and mark into 8 slices with a knife. Bake for about 30 minutes at 160C/gas mark 3 until golden.  Cool in the tin and then separate into wedges.  Yum!

Next time I'm hoping my little green beans will be big enough to harvest - at the moment they are tiny, furry, spindly things.  Plenty of time for me to research tasty beany recipes for the weeks to come ...

Happy cooking!

AMT

Lazy, hazy summer days

Hello!  I hope you are all having a wonderful summer  - it's hard to believe it's 1 July already. So far so very good on the weather front, though as I write it's 32C and a little too toasty for me - the only thing for it this morning was a trip to the nearest outdoor pool for a cool dip. Tried to imagine I was back in the wonderful pool in Sydney harbour but the unmistakable twang of the Tonbridge masses soon stopped that. 

Apologies for the delay since the last blog post but life has been a bit hectic lately since one started working as a proper bona fide chef!  I know!  After many disappointments on the job-hunting front this is just perfect. A gorgeous 600-year-old pub in rural Sussex  - great location, lovely people, super menu, lots of fun and hard, hot work - despite the frightening heat in the kitchen I can't complain about spending all day doing my favourite thing AND being paid for it...  we have a super summery menu during the week and I am encouraged to think up new dishes for the specials menu on Saturday nights - plus slaving under a scary salamander and over a sizzling wok on tapas night. Time whizzes by and it's great that we use local produce - even the pub garden's own vegetables, herbs and salad leaves when we can.   

Talking of home-grown vegetables our mini plot is a blooming riot of colour and edible things now - this morning we picked enough potatoes, carrots, broad beans, peas, red onions and beet leaves to make a tasty salad to go with new-laid eggs for supper which will be delicious and totally free! The two courgette plants are like something out of Day of the Triffids and we've had to rescue the tomatoes and strawberries from being overshadowed as they need more light than they are getting at the moment. The squeaky pea pods contain glorious little jade orbs of sweetness and it's tempting just to eat them all straight from the pod but we managed to save a few for later. Only the briefest of blanchings is necessary for these, if any - same goes for the broad beans as the tiniest ones can be eaten just as they are without the need for shelling.    The beanstalks are over 7-foot tall now and covered in beautiful red flowers which means lots of beans soon - at this rate I'll be taking them to cook at work because there will be far too many for just us.  Note to self : next year try planting seeds a few weeks apart to avoid a glut all at once ...

Last night we felt a bit Italian and griddled some chicken and thin slices of aubergine in olive oil to go with a thick, garlicky tomato, red pepper and basil sauce. It was baked it in the oven with lashings of buffalo mozzarella on top and a sprinkling of breadcrumbs and parmesan, served with a simple rocket salad and some warm, crusty ciabatta and it was delicious (and may well go on the specials menu). We closed our eyes and pretended we were on a shady terrace in a land of sunkissed cypress trees and olive groves with just cicadas for company. Once we opened them again of course we were back in our slightly dusty Kentish living room eating at the coffee table, with the Simpsons on the tv, the sound of the neighbours' kids bouncing on their trampoline and the chickens squawking outside the window - so back to earth with a bump... but one can dream!

We've also recreated some of the tapas dishes from the menu at work too - calamari dipped in milk and seasoned flour then deep-fried for a couple of minutes till crisp, hot chorizo sausage lightly sauteed or baked, serrano ham and crusty bread, a soft spanish tortilla, some prawns marinated in garlic and chilli then thrown in a hot wok till pink. All of these are simple and quick and with a green salad make a delicious meal, especially if you are sipping a chilled glass of Fino with it. It's tempting to imagine you are sitting in a plaza on a sultry evening in Seville, perhaps under an orange tree with the sound of flamenco music wafting on the air - but hey, under the umbrella on our slightly scruffy patio with the traffic whizzing by will have to do!

So long for now and happy cooking!

AMT

Bank holiday yumminess

Well here we are at the end of May already, the days are still lengthening and the bank holiday turned out to be lovely and warm on the whole.  Having been limply laid low with cold and cough during the week I was glad to get my tastebuds back in time for some groovy outdoor moments.  We had a very tasty supper involving some fresh morels, about which I shall wax lyrical briefly.  They are a wondrous thing and if you are a person who thinks of the mushroom season as only being one of damp and musty autumnalness then remember that morels are around only at this time of year and should therefore be celebrated if possible!  They're not cheap at around £35 p/kg but you only need a very few to make a meal special and they are in season for such a short time you can't really overspend on them - much ... anyway I was fortunate enough to be bumbling about my favourite Borough Market taking pictures and snaffled a few as they were being packed away.

Divine little frilly, earthy sponges, they soak up flavours and juices like anything.  They were sauteed in butter with chopped shallots and garlic then simmered with brandy, stock and cream.  Some fresh tarragon and parsley was stirred in towards the end and they were delicious settled unctuously atop some crisp griddled toast, with roasted asparagus, some Italian ham and an egg on the side - this would also be a delicious brunch dish.  So go make magic with morels while you can!  Clean and dry them as best you can first but don't worry about a bit of stray earth - their honeycombed surface makes this a little tricky - and remember that they do need to be cooked through, as unlike some other edible mushrooms they are poisonous when raw.  

On Sunday we fancied a Stateside brunch in the garden so we made proper American blueberry pancakes and served them with crispy strips of salty, smoky, grilled bacon and more blueberries and strawberries plus generous ribbons of maple syrup.  I like using buttermilk instead of ordinary milk and self-raising flour, they seem to be lighter and tastier somehow. Add a pinch of cinnamon and some grated orange or lemon zest and they go into yet another league. There's something so perfect about the salt/sweet combination here, with the juicy fruit and syrup, the bacon and the warm soft pancakes with crispy edges that makes each mouthful so darned moreish. Our eggs have extra huge orange yolks at the moment hence the colour of the pancakes are sunshine yellow here in the photo. Later on we lazed about in the shady bits of the garden with a refreshing glass of Pimms - the first of the season to go with with the rest of our first punnet of British strawbs, which were really juicy ones from Downingbury Farm in Pembury.  

On Monday the weather turned stormy on and off so our barbecue was a bit hit and miss - we struggled on though!  Ingredients-wise we decided to go all Greek for a change.  Shop-bought taramsalata, home-made hummus and kalamata olives to nibble on while we cooked.   Organic lamb mince with chopped red onion, oregano, garlic, ground cumin and coriander, fresh rosemary, mint, some lemon zest and lots of seasoning made little kofta patties to serve with home-made tztatziki, pitta bread and a fresh Greek salad.  Beautiful freshly-podded broad beans just shelled and mixed with wild garlic pesto, olives and feta cheese made a good side dish and roasted peppers in the lamb and pitta sandwich were a lovely sweet and smoky accompaniment.  Couldn't find any Retsina in the local offy which was a shame as I love it with Greek food, but a chilled, dry rose slipped down very well.  Good job there's no Ouzo in the house is all I can say or a few plates might have been smashed - mind you I seem to do a good job of smashing plates by accident at the mo!

Happy cooking!

AMT

    

Homage to the Egg

Last night we whisked the last 5 eggs we had left and tipped them happily into a frying pan sizzling with onion, bacon, roasted peppers and sliced potato where they settled into the gaps and fluffed up into a yummy tortilla. We sprinkled herbs from the garden, paprika and mature cheddar on the top, flashed it under a hot grill for a few minutes then cut it into wedges and enjoyed it with some freshly-picked salad leaves. It was one of those meals that makes you feel terribly smug cos you haven't had to go out and buy anything for it and boy was it tasty.  This kind of dish is perfect cold or at room temperature too and it's a very popular dish in Spanish tapas bars.  The Italian version is called frittata - either way it's delicious.  But little did we know that this feast of rural egginess might have been the last one we had of its kind .....

Fast-forward to 10.30pm. After guffawing and cringeing in equal measure to an episode of Fawlty Towers ("the Psychiatrist" in case you wanted to know) we snuggled down and soon husband was snoring lustily and I was stuffing in the orange foam earplugs to drown out the manly rumbles ...when out on the lawn there arose such a clatter I sprung from my bed to see what was the matter (thank you Clement Clark Moore).... actually, it was husband who leapt out of bed like a coiled spring whilst I fell out of bed unceremoniously and disorientatedly whilst trying to extract the plugs - they had gone in a bit too far - and wondered what the heck was going on at 2.30am. The window was flung open and soon it became clear that the thing we most dreaded happening was taking place on the patio. This was no Saint Nick and Eight Tiny Reindeer prancing sweetly in our garden, but our chicks being attacked in their beds by an unidentified and evil Creature ... We rushed downstairs in our T-shirts and pants, our beloved Colin and Dave squawking and flapping in terror amidst the sounds of wood being scratched and pummelled by the Predator. It disappeared over the fence as soon as we opened the back door - luckily from the catty squealing noises heard amongst the chaos it seemed not to be a fox unless it had problems with its vocal cords. Garden lights went on and we could see that a break-in of major proportions had happened. The circular airhole (about 2-3 inches across) in the end hatch of the ark had been used shamelessly as an access point for a paw which had gone in, levered a horizontal plank of wood right off the door and thereby created plenty of room to get the whole arm in, the claws out and so attack the innocently dozing chicks inside.  They were cowering at the back clucking frantically when we arrived and there were feathers everywhere - the damage had been done. It was awful seeing those feathers and hearing the distressing cries for help from our little Adorables. We plucked them out of their nests in some trepidation, checked them over  - no blood thank goodness and surprisingly no visible bald bits considering the volume of debris outside on the patio. Other clumps of feathers were found on the grass showing the exit route of the Creature to the fence.

After a quick cuddle the chicks zigzagged woefully towards the house in the dim light and perched wearily under the laurel tree together looking up at me for reassurance while husband raided the shed for tools, spare bits of wood and wire. I chatted to the victims while he fixed the broken door and put strengthening batons over the door and a bit of old fireguard mesh over the breathing hole so nothing like this could happen again. It wasn't long before Dave dozed off in the corner, chirruping in her sleep - interestingly the smaller of the two, Colin, stayed watching guard with me on the deck, quite alert despite the dim light and she burbled all the while to Dave who answered her dreamily. Eventually it was time to gather them up and bundle them back to bed - Dave fell asleep again halfway through the door and we had to prise her foot off the doorframe to get her in but they were all safe and sound in the new Fort Chix.

Phew! Could have done without that. By the time we crawled back into bed it was 3.30am and it took a while for the adrenalin to subside. This morning the chicks appeared to have forgotten all about their traumatic ordeal - one good side-effect of having such a tiny brain seems to be that one can't remember to harbour grudges - and have been as happy as anything running around the garden with no discernible limps or lasting damage. But they're getting extra sweetcorn and kale from me today as a treat for being such brave little soldiers... and they both laid huge eggs this morning, the shells strong and smooth with no crinkly bits at all - we had heard that often after a shock the eggs can emerge very misshapen.

So this post is dedicated to the humble egg and its amazing origins. They are so nutritious and versatile and if you get eggs from happy hens (or ducks, quails, geese or ostriches!), super-tasty and colourful. Apart from omelettes and the breakfast/brunch side of things they are a vital part of so many dishes from around the world. Without them there would be no mayonnaise, hollandaise or meringues, nor a decent cake. Macaroons wouldn't exist, nor biscotti and that would make sitting in an Italian cafe so much less fun.  There would be no custard or decent ice-cream, no mousses or zabaglione, no cheesecake, creme brulee or bread and butter pudding. Not to mention an absence of pancakes or Yorkshire pudding, aagh! The world would be a sorrier place without eggs therein, let's face it.  

Egg-fried rice makes a great meal in itself with a few tasty additions - fry a chopped onion and some garlic in a hot wok with a little Chinese Five Spice powder, throw in a handful of frozen peas and maybe a few prawns. Add 150g cooked basmati rice and a couple of lightly whisked eggs and you have a wonderful bowl of Oriental yumminess. Or split it between two of you as an accompaniment to stirfried chicken and vegetables - just marinate a couple of chopped chicken breasts in soy sauce, honey, ginger, garlic, orange zest and chilli for an hour or so in the fridge, fry quickly over a high heat with some onion in a teaspoon of sesame oil, add a small bag of stirfry veg and toss it all about for a few minutes. Serve with the salty, sticky, spicy sauce soaking into the rice. Sprinkle with toasted sesame seeds for extra crunch if you like.  Tasty, easy, quick and nutritious - and pretty economical too.  

You'll never starve if you have a few eggs in the house ...

Happy cooking!

AMT

Retro recollections

Those of us born in 1965, like me, will remember the '70s and all that this era had to offer in terms of gastronomy, making home entertaining seem so glamorous.   Pretty gruesome, some of it, if you think of the astonishingly gaudy spectacles that the scary TV chef Fanny Craddock used to produce, with vast mounds of piped, frilly whipped cream and hideous adornings of radioactive angelica and cherries.  Yes, you could tell even on a black and white telly. It was hilarious when contestants on the Generation Game tried - badly of course - to emulate her creations, but given the chance I'd have had a go! Then there was lovely Graham Kerr, the Galloping Gourmet. His recipes were undeniably rich, lots of cream and butter I remember, but somehow he seemed so much classier in his presentation techniques than Ms Craddock and his sunny temperament made him eminently watchable.  In our house we were glued to both shows and didn't answer the phone when they were on! 

TV shows aside, this was around the time that my mother was running a small catering business with her friend Barbara. They never really made any money cos they didn't charge enough but the quality was tip-top and they got loads of work. They used to cater for weddings, christenings, bar mitzvahs and garden parties and I used to help enthusiastically both in preparing the food and waitressing at the dos. I was only about 9, 10, 11 at the most and loved every minute of it, all the excitement of getting a booking, recipe-researching, budgeting and shopping at the cash and carry and getting to lick the beaters a lot. Not to mention the extra pocket money and it made a nice change from ironing Dad's shirts and washing the car! Our kitchen was far from state-of-the-art when we first moved in 1975 and there were sometimes 100 or more guests to cater for, but it all got done somehow. We were glad of the extra fridge and freezer in the outhouse, however!

Salmon koulibiaca I remember thinking was beyond the realms of anything I'd ever seen before - it seemed so exotic. Lovely buttery puff pastry (home-made back then and I got to decorate the top) encasing a moist filling of juicy flakes of salmon, cooked rice, herbs and lemon that was delicious hot or cold.  Cool cucumber salad made with the thinnest slices of peeled and seeded cucumber, marinated in sugar, white wine vinegar and freshly chopped dill. Coronation chicken in huge bowls with toasted almonds on top. Garlic bread (I was in charge of making the garlic and parsley butter). Strange things called Leberknoedel (German-style liver dumplings) cropped up occasionally and I have to say they weren't my favourite things! And there was a delicious dip called Liptauer with cream cheese, sour cream, paprika, shallots, capers and I think caraway seeds to have with pretzels or bread which I could quite happily have eaten straight out of the bowl with a spoon ... and frequently did.  Happy days!

At home, our young and trendy parents had lovely dinner parties on Saturday nights.  We weren't posh by any means, but home entertaining was a big thing in those days. I can remember being very young and being so excited about these events, helping with the preparations during the day (tasting copiously as I went of course), polishing the teak, the silver and wine glasses, making the table look beautiful, putting the baby sister to bed, then waiting for the magical hour when the guests would arrive. With the help of the Cordon Bleu Cookery Course, its slim collectable volumes housed in dark blue plastic box files, Robert Carrier, Elizabeth David and Larousse amongst others we delved deep into the art of haute cuisine and managed to knock up plenty of delicious concoctions.

Baths would be run and the aroma of Badedas would fill the house. Mum would slide into on an evening dress or a cheesecloth top and bellbottoms, her funky orange Charles Jourdain slingbacks and backcomb her hair when the Carmen rollers were removed; Dad would polish his short-back-and-sides, slap on the Givenchy Gentleman and slip on crisp slacks and a polo neck. Bach's B Minor Mass or a Brahms symphony might be put on the record player - but if we were lucky the Best of the Carpenters or Simon & Garfunkel (or Demis Roussos perhaps!) My other sister (as opposed to the aforementioned baby one) and I would brush our hair till it shone, put on our best dresses - velvet or broderie anglaise probably, though we had a matching pair of long flowery frocks with a fetching lace trim for special occasions, which we thought were all the rage - and were allowed to stay up late and greet the guests and chat about school and music lessons. We would take the coats, throw them on mum and dad's bed and then come down to pass round the drinks and nibbles (there were always drinks and nibbles, I loved that bit of the evening and still do). Stuffed olives, pistachio nuts, cheese straws and - very classy this - smoked oysters or mussels. John West still do them and I always have some in the larder. I became dab hand at making the perfect G&Ts, Whisky and Gingers and things with Maraschino cherries in (lots of these would be eaten in the process, lovely). Sometimes there'd be a sing-song (German lieder, barber shop quartets or madrigals rather than rock and roll!) Everyone smoked in those days, so the grown-up and intoxicating aromas of alcohol and Dunhill International were mixed with whatever delicious cooking smells wafted through from the kitchen. At this point if we weren't eating with the adults, sister and I would disappear upstairs to play Ratrace or Jackstraws, but would often creep down later to the half-landing to eavesdrop on conversations, nick food from the kitchen and try and catch a glimpse of them eating and laughing in the dining room.  

Typical dishes for one of these fabulous "soirees" might have been a starter of prawn cocktail (I loved making the Marie Rose sauce - mayonnaise, double cream, lemon juice, tomato ketchup, tabasco and a dash of dry sherry or brandy), or the lightest of salmon mousses which had been chilled in - and then divested of - its fish-shaped copper mould, decorated with cucumber slices and served on a scalloped stainless steel platter. Then maybe a delicious Steak Diane, or something Veronique or Boeuf Bourgignon (all garnished with curly parsley) or a fantastic meat fondue with lots of yummy dips to go with it (I was the dip meister). Puddings were absolutely divine - Gateau Diane with its gorgeous curls of dark chocolate "caraque" (that was Dad's speciality); chewy, crisp hazelnut meringue with cream and raspberries, lemon syllabub, chocolate mousse, Danish apple pudding (chilled layers of pureed apple with butter-fried crisp breadcrumbs and toasted almonds with whipped cream on top).  Then there was Creme Caramel and something called Spanish Chocolate Pudding that involved soaking boudoir biscuits in lashings of Grand Marnier to line the serving dish and filling it up with a mixture of butter, Bourneville, more Grand Marnier, sugar, egg yolks and goodness knows what else. Soooooo yummy and rich. But the piece de resistance would be Crepes Suzette, flambeed at the table to much oohing and ahing. Then if anyone had any room there would be cheese and biscuits - perhaps a slice of runny Brie, some Danish Blue, Boursin and one of those logs of creamy cheese flavoured with orange and rolled in slivers of almond. Afterwards, to strains of "I'm so full I can't move" there was a mass exodus to the lounge to play bridge. The coffee percolator would go on, the Remy Martin and port would come out, cigarettes would be lit and sister and I would sneak down to the dining room once they were safely ensconced to hoover up any leftovers then peer through the gap in the door to watch them at the green baize table, the smoke hanging in a visible layer below the ceiling.

The reciprocal dinner parties at other people's houses were also great fun because we used to tag along in our pyjamas, do the drinks/nibbles/sing-song ritual and then be sent upstairs, but we were of course too excited to sleep being in a strange bed so would play drawing on each other's backs and read Little House on the Prairie till we eventually dozed off. I have hazy recollections of being carried down to the car in the early hours, wrapped in blankets, half asleep.  

Those were the days! I vowed from then on to carry on the traditions of entertaining at home and have had quite a few successful evenings over the years but nothing will ever seem as sophisticated as those spectacular and atmospheric 1970s dinner parties that Mum and Dad used to have.  To this day the smell of Meths and Goddard's silver polish takes me right back to those times and I am proud to say that I still have a lovely orange Le Creuset fondue set which gets a good airing now and then ...

Happy cooking!

AMT

The merry, merry month of May

Saturday 2 May 2009

Wonderful - the bank holiday weekend stretches ahead luxuriously with, unusually, the promise of glorious sunny weather.  The ceanothus is looking gorgeous and the farm shops are brimming with good things - baskets of local asparagus bundles and bright green just-picked herbs.  The fish van came round yesterday from Rye and we just managed to snaffle some gurnard and red mullet before it all went.   We'll grill the fillets tonight and serve them with sizzling chorizo, garlic, thyme and lemon, steamed buttered asparagus and some new potatoes with chives.    Huge herby sausages from the Rare Breed Pig company and chubby chicken drumsticks will go on the grill tomorrow.    A good tip is to simmer sausages in water for 10 minutes or so before offering them to the barbecue to avoid the "burnt on the outside, raw in the middle" problem that so often occurs.  Similarly with chicken on the bone, either simmer it or bake it in the oven first and then just finish it off on the grill for the last few minutes to get a nice smokey taste on the skin and to ensure the meat is cooked right through to the middle.

Talking of chicken .... our two little hens are in their absolute element these days (aside from a slight setback during the rain on Monday where quite a lot of forlorn bedraggledness occurred) - they are dashing around the garden chortling and hoovering up bugs and slugs, staying up late every night - and getting up very early in the morning ... They're both laying again (one had a few months off in the winter)  and twice this week we've had one big egg and one the size of a grape - they look so sweet next to each other.  The little, extra-speckeldy ones have such tiny yolks but are just as tasty as the regular ones so they still get eaten!

Baking included lemon muffins with homemade "jam" in the middle.  Basically some leftover raspberries an blueberries, about 120g each, were warmed up with a little icing sugar till bubbling and then thickened slightly with cornflour.  Whisked for a couple of minutes over the heat and a gorgeous, jewelly, glossy jammy sauce appeared.  Half the muffin mixture was then put into the paper cases, followed by a spoon of the jam, then the rest of the mixture was added with a sprinkling of sugar on top.    Baked for about 20 minutes in a hot oven and they were done and really yummy.  Any jam will do of course but the impromptu fruit compote made a lovely juicy middle to the buns.    

For the next week or so we're going to be frugal and try not to do any major food shopping, just be inventive with whatever we have in the fridge, larder and freezer.  The rule is only to shop for staples - milk, butter, teabags, onions, garlic, olive oil, cheese etc.  Rummaging about we find a tin of organic chickpeas - fabulous.  Chickpeas automatically = nubbly homemade hummus to have with hot toast or crackers.  Just drain the chickpeas, whizz with garlic, lemon juice and slowly-added olive oil, some chilli powder or tabasco.  If you have some tahini then a dollop of this makes it authentic, but I sometimes toast sesame seeds and add them instead for some crunch.  Tasty, nutritious, filling and CHEAP.   If you have other canned legumes - a can of butter beans or pinto beans for example -these also make a lovely dip or spread for lunch.   A bag of pasta, a tin each of tomato and tuna and you have the ingredients for a pasta bake.  Find frozen peas and you can make soup, or a puree to accompany lamb, chicken or fish.   Sardines in tomato sauce - yummy on toast.  A bag of noodles and a can of coconut milk with jars of thai or indian spices will make a soothing, spicy, soupy supper.    Plenty of choice - thought I think we will draw the line at the can of horrid hotdogs (where did they come from??) 3 years past their sell-by date!

By the way a good tip (pun intended) for keeping asparagus fresh  - if you're not eating it on the day you buy it, put the stems in a jug of water like you would cut flowers and they'll last a few days without going bendy!

Happy cooking!

AMT