Category Archives: Food

Notes from a Small Kitchen

First up, meatballs. I had intended to make them last night, but Julia was hungry, time was short, the night was cold and the chip shop was soooo tempting.

I had mushy peas with mine and followed up with an apple and a pear. I’d had a banana with my breakfast cereal and salad with lunch so that scraped my five a day. This is important as five a day, which was once sufficient, has now become ten. I didn’t know there were ten sorts of fruit and veg, and until last week certainly had no intention of ever eating 10 sorts in one day.

Getting 10 sorts of fruit and veg into me takes a technique that is closer to loading a cannon than it is to cookery. However, it’s something I will have to work on.

I have a simple meatball recipe. Meat, breadcrumbs, milk, egg and stuff. In this case  the meat was minced pork and the “stuff” was a chopped spring onion and parsley. The milk to dampen the breadcrumbs and the egg all contribute to making a nice, tender meatball. You can do without them, but the end product is more suitable for playing golf than eating.

The bread crumbs may look a bit strange but don’t worry, the bits are just chopped up grains because I used the crusts of a seeded loaf to make the crumbs.

You can season it I suppose but the pork ones always seem to be OK with just herbs. I do season the beef ones a bit, normally using Worcestershire sauce or black pepper. You can also use dried herbs and grated parmesan.

Mix it all together with your hands and roll into balls the size of a walnut (a walnut in its shell, to be precise). Either poach it in a tomato sauce (about 40 minutes) or oven bake for 20 minutes at 180 C, 350 F or Gas Mark 4.

I based the bean burger recipe on one by Mark Bittman that was passed on to me by Laurie Graves.

My recipe was a tin of chickpeas, half an onion, parsley, a good shake of chilli powder, a teaspoon of cumin, an egg, some brown linseed (which was just hanging about needing to be used)  and enough oats to make the mixture dry enough to work. I made six burgers but we will only eat four for tea.

We ate them with roasted vegetables and stir-fried black kale, as pictured in the featured image. They still need a little work but are already much better than the previous recipe I was using and as good as any I’ve eaten recently when eating out.

 

 

Looks like a curry…

If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, we have at least to consider the possibility that we have a small aquatic bird of the family Anatidae on our hands.

Douglas Adams,  Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency

Most people are familiar with the Duck Test. but how many people can tell the difference between a stew and a curry?

For instance, I cooked a spicy dish of beef and vegetables tonight, what was it?  I ate it and I’m not sure.

It included carrot, sweet potato, parsnip, onions, mushrooms, ginger, chillies and lentils. With the exception of parsnip I’ve had them all in curries before – either from Indian or Chinese restaurants.

So was it a curry?

The ingredients don’t seem to be a reliable indicator. You can make curry without using curry powder. You can serve either dish with a variety of breads and rice, though the jury is out regarding potatoes.

After giving it an evening of thought, and discussing the nuances of potato cuisine, we’ve come up with the following guidelines (which probably don’t apply outside the UK).

If you serve it with dumplings it’s a stew.

If you use a recipe (no matter how vaguely remembered) it’s probably a curry.

If you use the random ingredients you happen to have to hand, it’s probably a stew.

As a result of this discussion I’ve also identified  a possible gap in the market for a takeaway stew restaurant, but that’s a discussion for another day.

 

 

 

A New Dawn…

I slept better last night.

This is probably due to my management of liquid intake during the evening (as what goes in must come out) but may also be due to the events of the day. I certainly feel happier than I have for some time.

Three notable things happened, two of which produced a feeling of wellbeing. Those two were the conversation with the new tenants and a visit to the farmer’s parents (where we completed a jigsaw to check it had all its pieces before it went to the charity shop). I like jigsaws.

The third event was lunch at the Garden Centre. I swear they have reduced the size of the paninis. It’s difficult to say without evidence to back it up, but it seemed to me that the bread was shorter and the fact was concealed with artistic arrangement and an extra dab of salad (which is, let’s face it, just adding insult to injury).

It’s a re-run of the eternal Little Chef Breakfast Conundrum – you know something is lacking but you can’t quite recall what it is. I’m sure that the Olympic Breakfast is half a tomato and a full sausage down on what it used to be. If only I had photographs…

With the panini all I needed was a ruler.

Julia, as usual, has little sympathy with my quest for value, or my thirst for scientific knowledge.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Olympic Breakfast with fried bread option

I can’t imagine Pierre Curie met with such obstruction in his scientific research/

Ice cream for breakfast

Ice cream must contain all the calcium and vitamins of milk, and with the addition of honey and walnuts it has to be positively healthy. It It also tastes good.

I can’t think why you don’t see it recommended as breakfast more often.

It’s difficult to write a follow-up to that; I’m just sitting here thinking of a brave new world where we have ice cream for breakfast.

At the risk of treating this like Twitter, I think I’ll leave it there, as I really can’t think of anything more to say.

 

Driving through history

I ended up in Beeston this morning after I took the wrong road (the Nottingham one, not the Cheshire one – once I see Beeston castle I really have gone wrong!). As a result I was able to eat breakfast (see Pies and Prejudice for more details), drive past a former silk mill (burnt down in the riots of 1831) and have a look at the new tram system.

We were actually on our way to Chilwell (a name you may recognise if you are into the history of shell-filling factories in the Great War) to do some shoe shopping. I need big shoes, have no sense of style and dislike spending money, so it’s off to Sports Direct for a selection of their discounted size 12 Karrimoor shoes.

Having secured my shoes I was then struck by an idea.

It wasn’t the best of ideas, but a while later we found ourselves in the car park at Denby Pottery. It was a visit of mixed fortunes.

They are changing things round so we weren’t able to look round the museum, which is being relocated, and they didn’t seem to have a very good selection of animal models. This was a shame as I like to look round the museum and I was hoping Julia might express a liking for one of the animals as I’m desperately looking for presents for our wedding anniversary and her birthday. Check the 1930s section of this page to see what I mean.

On the other hand they do have a new farm shop run by prize-winning pie makers Walter Smith. They also have meat, black pudding and a fine selection of oils and stuff.

As a result I now have a pie to test and a bottle of Cranberry Balsamic vinegar that is so good I’d be happy to drink it neat.

No pictures today – I originally set off to buy shoes, not photograph them. I really must remember in future.

 

 

 

New Recipes

 

I had a go at empanadas  over the weekend. They turned out well, but then it’s hardly rocket science.

After whipping up a savoury filling – onions, mince, smoked paprika, chilli powder and tomato ketchup – and cutting some circles out of ready rolled pastry, it was just a matter of egg glaze and 20 minutes in the oven. If I do it again I will make my own pastry and do something more impressive with the filling, but for a start I was quite happy. Julia was happy too, as she had something to snack on when she got home after a ten hour shift.

We also had Indian Shepherd’s Pie. I pretty much followed the recipe on this one, though, as eagle-eyed readers will see from the photo, I couldn’t be bothered to dice carrots for the filling.

I’m not quite sure what the origins are for this pie. Most recipes seem to imply it’s British Shepherd’s Pie with Indian spices, but one, from Jamie Oliver, calls it Masala Kheema. This doesn’t mean anything of course, as I could throw some spice into a cauliflower cheese and call it Gobi Paneer.

One thing that is clear is that the marketing genius who came up with the name Empire Pie could have done better. Enough has already been said on the subject, so I’ll leave it there.

Enough has already been said on the subject of the baked Brie and berries, mainly by Julia. I took the recipe from another blog (which I can’t find at the moment to thank) and made a mess of it. I didn’t add sugar to the berries (which turned out to be a mistake) and I didn’t seal the pastry properly. None of this was the fault of the recipe, but it did result in what looked like a small explosion in a biological warfare facility.

I didn’t take a picture of that one.

 

 

 

Escape to Derbyshire (Part 2)

After lunch, the sun went in, which was a shame because I had wanted some shots of autumn colour and what is scarlet and gold in sunlight is just shades of brown when overcast.

After buying our selection from the shop we decided that the cafe, despite some excellent reviews on Tripadvisor, looked a bit busy and cramped so we decided to give it a miss.

At that point I decided to chance my arm and mentioned in a casual manner that the refreshments at the Brierlow Bar bookshop were always acceptable.

“We aren’t buying any books.”

“Nothing, my dear,” I said, “could be further from my thoughts.”

As a salesman I was always told that sincerity was the hardest thing to fake, but I like to think I’m pretty good at it.

Half an hour later we stepped into the shop, turned to the toilets (it’s my age, you know) and…

…they have built a whole new cafe.

My jaw dropped.

Change, I find, is not the same thing as improvement. However, in this case the change does seem to be an improvement.

We had prize-winning Novus tea, served in a pot, with extra hot water, tea strainers and milk in one of those little bottles that looks like an old-style school milk bottle. The tea is bright and golden when poured and tastes very pleasant. I’m afraid I don’t have a wide vocabulary of tea terms.

Being (a) surprised and (b) thirsty, I didn’t really take in much else about the place. The tables have good chunky tops and varied ironwork supports and the chairs are a mixed bag of second hand items (or an eclectic mix as we bloggers call them). However, the important things to note are that you can browse the cookery book titles whilst seated, no important books have been lost to the cafe and after two large cups of tea we still couldn’t see the bottom of the pot. I like that. Quality is good in tea, but quantity is even better.

In the end I was allowed to buy four books – two for me and two for Julia, so I’m still wondering who did best out of this visit.

 

 

Escape to Derbyshire (Part 1)

As I was sorting laundry this morning (another day off – we really are spoiling ourselves) we had a postal delivery for Number Two son.

“Why don’t we nip up to Sheffield and give it to him.” I suggested. (Having already suggested Stoke on Trent, which is usually a winner, and Bakewell as days out, I was becoming desperate at the thought of another day of housework).

It worked, and Julia texted him to arrange it. After waiting for a reply and wondering what would happen if she rang him in the middle of a lecture, she finally rang him. Me? Well, to be honest, at 10.15, I didn’t think there was much chance of catching him in the middle of a lecture.

I was right. What actually happened was that we woke him up.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, we popped up to Sheffield, got caught in traffic,  dropped off the letter, took him to lunch at KFC, lectured him on the importance of eating properly (yes, I know…) and did various parent things.

I also took a photo of one of the gardens in his street. The one with Virginia creeper growing up the telegraph pole was quite impressive but the one with the beans was more interesting.

 

The garden next door to the beans had a fine display of fuchsias, which was a coincidence as we’d been eating fuchsia berries from our garden this morning. I’ve eaten fuchsia berries before and not been impressed but these are supposed to be juicy and delicious. To be fair, it’s been a poor year, and they aren’t in a great position, but they didn’t seem any different to the others I’ve tried. Interesting idea though – plenty of flowers and a claimed 300 berries per plant. It’s the one in the header picture.

After that, having cunningly secreted the postcode of the Riverside Herb Centre in my shirt pocket, I entered the details in the satnav (I’m finally moving into the 21st Century) and set off. It was a visit of mixed results, with virtually no plants available. Fortunately there is a shop selling a variety of products, including oak-smoked rapeseed oil. I’ll cover that in a later post, once I’ve decided what to do with it. I checked on the internet and the main suggestions are to use it for salad dressing. It doesn’t seem very imaginative.

We also bought black onion seed, garam masala, beeswax hand lotion and a packet of ginger creams. They will probably appear in reviews on the other blog.

After that, well that’s going to be Part 2.

 

 

A yolk about eggs

We collected the eggs today, not that there were many, as we’ve sent most of the hens to market and it’s the wrong time of year. (Of course, from a chicken’s point of view, it’s always the wrong time of year to go to market).

In fact there were two eggs, and being from bantams, they were both small. One was much smaller than the other. On Monday I weighed three of these eggs and they weighed just over 90 grams, which isn’t much more than one decent egg. In fact I used all three of them in place of the one required for the Grantham Gingerbread.

 

This put me in mind of a limerick, (which I altered to match the circumstances).

 

There was a young hen from Devizes,

Whose eggs were two different sizes.

One was so small,

it was no use at all,

But the other won several prizes.