Didn't get the chance to post this yesterday but better late than never...
Cold, wet and a Cup Final to go to. A proper breakfast is called for.
Luckily the bottomless jar of Instant Pancake Mix - see earlier post and/or (although preferably not 'or' now I come to think of it...) Nigella Express.
Give the jar is essentially filled with 600g flour and you use 150g a time, even non mathematicians such as myself will not have too much trouble in working out that is four lots of pancakes. Except this particular jar seems to have gone on for ever. Mind you - why would I complain about that?!
The reason I am revisiting this recipe is twofold:
1) when Nigella says use whole or semi skimmed milk, it is possibly advisable to use whole or semi-skimmed milk. Except we had run out and as I had already got the egg in the bowl and the whisk in my hand I wasn't going to let such details thwart my lust for fluffy pancakes. And to be fair, skimmed is not a total disaster - just makes it all a little limp.
2) no matter how tired please pay attention to your cookware. Foolishly grabbed the first pan I found, not clocking it was the casualty of the mirin salmon debacle (see previous). Even though it has been utterly and throughly cleaned it clearly harbours a grudge for within seconds the house stank of the ghost of aforementioned fish and this is not an ideal accompaniment to maple syrup. Had to start all over again with a friendlier skillet...
The baby rubbed her hands with glee at the thought of a breakfast that didn't involve Hovis or Shreddies but was strangely reticent when it came to tucking in (yes, yes, the salmony reek probably played its part)
A little psychology soon solved that though - "I bet you can't get the pancake on mummy's big girl fork...wow...you are so clever" repeated until the plate was clean.
Delicious and warming though the repast may have been at the time, within minutes of arriving at Wembley I was frozen solid (indeed, I am only now regaining sensation in my toes). I was also ravenous and having mislaid my essential football-match Fruitellas before they had even been opened, rued the frying pan debacle that cost me that extra serving of brekkie.
But hey - we won. And what a great afternoon it was. And the jar still isn;t empty! So hey Mr Rooney - my next batch is for you
Monday, 1 March 2010
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
More Fairy Cakes
Yes, yes, I know we've got these covered already - but as a rainy day activity what better than these little spongey treats? ("more mixing mummy").
Pop them in the oven ("Ot, 'ot - burn your wingers" (we sometimes have trouble with the letter 'f'!)) then slather in white chocolate butter cream and go to town with the Barbie sprinkles.
A little too rich for small folk (shame eh? all the more for mummy...) but she was easily placated with a more suitable alternative so all's well that ends well...
Monday, 22 February 2010
Victoria Sponge (with a 'helping' hand)
"Come to our tea party" said a good friend.
"I'll bring a cake" I replied, conveniently forgetting my free time is currently in overdraft and finding the time to do baking would mean bumping the 101 other more urgent tasks even further down the to-do list.
But hey - no surprise that I didn't take too much convincing to forgo Tesco and laundry in favour of floury delights.
What to make? No time for pontification - ingredients for Victoria Sponge all present and correct - so Victoria Sponge (Domestic Goddess) it was
The wee un volunteered her services but I soon learned that babies are absolute rubbish when it comes to creaming butter and sugar to a mouse like consistency. Thanks heavens for the Kitchen Aid...
Fancied something different for the filling: not keen on cream (and nor is my host) so whipped up a white chocolate buttercream and studded it with juicy fresh raspberries.
The photo doesn't do its majesty justice (alas courtesy of a mobile phone) but suffice to say - all (guests) impressed and all (cake) devoured with relish.
Rich and calorific - yes - but then surely that's the point of good old English afternoon tea?
"I'll bring a cake" I replied, conveniently forgetting my free time is currently in overdraft and finding the time to do baking would mean bumping the 101 other more urgent tasks even further down the to-do list.
But hey - no surprise that I didn't take too much convincing to forgo Tesco and laundry in favour of floury delights.
What to make? No time for pontification - ingredients for Victoria Sponge all present and correct - so Victoria Sponge (Domestic Goddess) it was
The wee un volunteered her services but I soon learned that babies are absolute rubbish when it comes to creaming butter and sugar to a mouse like consistency. Thanks heavens for the Kitchen Aid...
Fancied something different for the filling: not keen on cream (and nor is my host) so whipped up a white chocolate buttercream and studded it with juicy fresh raspberries.
The photo doesn't do its majesty justice (alas courtesy of a mobile phone) but suffice to say - all (guests) impressed and all (cake) devoured with relish.
Rich and calorific - yes - but then surely that's the point of good old English afternoon tea?
Wednesday, 17 February 2010
How I Destroyed My Pan Collection (Part 2)
Once again my pursuit of the perfect oriental salmon has cost me dear
This time Mirin Glazed (Nigella Express)
Ludicrously simple to make: mirin, soy and soft brown sugar (which within minutes of opening the bag always seems to become rock hard brown sugar and a right bugger to decant without coating the rest of the kitchen in fine muscovado scented particles...but I digress). Slosh the salmon around for a few minutes and cook, adding some rice vinegar to the sauce at the end. How could that possibly go wrong...?
By doubting the great sage is the easy answer.
The method clearly states that one should cook the salmon for 2 mins on each side but being an infidel - albeit a fleeting one - I thought that didn't sound very much and went for 3 mins instead. Result - well depends who you ask...husband said 'burnt to a cinder' though I preferred the more poetic "heavily char grilled". Semantics perhaps, but add the sticky sauce factor to the overcooking and another pan past its prime.
It is worth noting that the bits that were still edible were delicious - so much so that I made it again, following the instructions to the letter and using an old and slightly unloved pan just in case. And as is the way of such things, this hardware lives to fight another day...
My dinner was too delicious for words. Husband's raw in the middle. I assure you - and him - that this was not deliberate on my part and now I guess I just have to hope it will be third time lucky
This time Mirin Glazed (Nigella Express)
Ludicrously simple to make: mirin, soy and soft brown sugar (which within minutes of opening the bag always seems to become rock hard brown sugar and a right bugger to decant without coating the rest of the kitchen in fine muscovado scented particles...but I digress). Slosh the salmon around for a few minutes and cook, adding some rice vinegar to the sauce at the end. How could that possibly go wrong...?
By doubting the great sage is the easy answer.
The method clearly states that one should cook the salmon for 2 mins on each side but being an infidel - albeit a fleeting one - I thought that didn't sound very much and went for 3 mins instead. Result - well depends who you ask...husband said 'burnt to a cinder' though I preferred the more poetic "heavily char grilled". Semantics perhaps, but add the sticky sauce factor to the overcooking and another pan past its prime.
It is worth noting that the bits that were still edible were delicious - so much so that I made it again, following the instructions to the letter and using an old and slightly unloved pan just in case. And as is the way of such things, this hardware lives to fight another day...
My dinner was too delicious for words. Husband's raw in the middle. I assure you - and him - that this was not deliberate on my part and now I guess I just have to hope it will be third time lucky
Monday, 15 February 2010
Teething and a Dinner Party...
My inclination towards domestic goddess-hood has been severely impaired by the baby's dentistry - namely the molars that are causing her untold misery and bother (we were lucky with the rest - hardly any hassle at all - and now it is pay back time...)
So what do you do when you have had no sleep for a week, are so tired that you can't remember your own phone number and have even stopped eating toast cos frankly heating up the bread is way too much effort? That's right - you throw a dinner party.
Cursing the gene that is scientifically known as the "if you are going to do something you may as well do it properly" chromosome it was an all-out assault on the kitchen. And this was a tricky ask...
Six people - two veggies (proper no fish veggies), one person who doesn't eat cheese, one person who doesn't eat fruit or nuts in savoury dishes, one person who doesn't eat ginger or cinnamon, one person who is allergic to peppers...takes some planning let me tell you.
A simple starter seemed the best way forward - a platter of halloumi, vine leaves, hummous, pitta etc
For the main course a recipe I have been meaning to make forever but as it's something that serves 6-8 and is not easily altered had been hitherto untried...
Pretty easy to make - nothing more arduous than a load of stirring. Past practice in the art of filo made the assembly relatively unstressful too. And it looks way more impressive than it ought to so lots of 'oohs' and 'aahs' and even a 'wow' (though wasn't sure whether the astonishment displayed by guest was a genuine compliment or more of a 'blimey, who'd have thought it?'). Make of it what you will...
Off piste (in Nigella terms) for the accompaniments: Ottolenghi chargrilled brocolli salad, a green bean and sesame salad and a nifty combo of roasted new potatoes, butternut squash, sweet potato and cherry tomato. And not a morsel remained.
Desert - and the trusty apple crumble (as per previous post) plus Chocolate Raspberry Tarts (Domestic Goddess again...)
The latter was possibly the bridge too far, the straw that broke this very tired camel;'s back. Looked great, tasted good - but not enough to warrant the time and effort that were already in short supply and ended up in overdraft.
The chocolate pastry was easy enough to make (by hand) but incredibly short - and so by the time it had chilled in the fridge it was more like a big rock-hard lump of crumbliness, rather than a dough you had any hope of rolling. Disloyally perhaps, I recalled a Jamie trick of cutting and pressing slices into the little tins which worked pretty well. But then there was freezing the cases for 30 mins, then baking, then cooling, then filling - all around bath and bedtime and lots of comforting cuddles and teething powders. ..
Went my own way on the filling (when did I ever follow a recipe to the letter?) and mixed melted milky bar with marscapone which was so delicious had eaten half of it before it got near the tarts. One tip - keep at room temperature for while before serving otherwise it's not quite as soft and sumptuous as it should be...
Anyway - lots more wows, replete and happy guests - and another long, long night. We're back on the butties for a while...
So what do you do when you have had no sleep for a week, are so tired that you can't remember your own phone number and have even stopped eating toast cos frankly heating up the bread is way too much effort? That's right - you throw a dinner party.
Cursing the gene that is scientifically known as the "if you are going to do something you may as well do it properly" chromosome it was an all-out assault on the kitchen. And this was a tricky ask...
Six people - two veggies (proper no fish veggies), one person who doesn't eat cheese, one person who doesn't eat fruit or nuts in savoury dishes, one person who doesn't eat ginger or cinnamon, one person who is allergic to peppers...takes some planning let me tell you.
A simple starter seemed the best way forward - a platter of halloumi, vine leaves, hummous, pitta etc
For the main course a recipe I have been meaning to make forever but as it's something that serves 6-8 and is not easily altered had been hitherto untried...
Pretty easy to make - nothing more arduous than a load of stirring. Past practice in the art of filo made the assembly relatively unstressful too. And it looks way more impressive than it ought to so lots of 'oohs' and 'aahs' and even a 'wow' (though wasn't sure whether the astonishment displayed by guest was a genuine compliment or more of a 'blimey, who'd have thought it?'). Make of it what you will...
Off piste (in Nigella terms) for the accompaniments: Ottolenghi chargrilled brocolli salad, a green bean and sesame salad and a nifty combo of roasted new potatoes, butternut squash, sweet potato and cherry tomato. And not a morsel remained.
Desert - and the trusty apple crumble (as per previous post) plus Chocolate Raspberry Tarts (Domestic Goddess again...)
The latter was possibly the bridge too far, the straw that broke this very tired camel;'s back. Looked great, tasted good - but not enough to warrant the time and effort that were already in short supply and ended up in overdraft.
The chocolate pastry was easy enough to make (by hand) but incredibly short - and so by the time it had chilled in the fridge it was more like a big rock-hard lump of crumbliness, rather than a dough you had any hope of rolling. Disloyally perhaps, I recalled a Jamie trick of cutting and pressing slices into the little tins which worked pretty well. But then there was freezing the cases for 30 mins, then baking, then cooling, then filling - all around bath and bedtime and lots of comforting cuddles and teething powders. ..
Went my own way on the filling (when did I ever follow a recipe to the letter?) and mixed melted milky bar with marscapone which was so delicious had eaten half of it before it got near the tarts. One tip - keep at room temperature for while before serving otherwise it's not quite as soft and sumptuous as it should be...
Anyway - lots more wows, replete and happy guests - and another long, long night. We're back on the butties for a while...
Thursday, 28 January 2010
How I Destroyed My Pan Collection (Part 1)
Once upon a time I had a fragrant home and a drawer full of lovely shiny pans. Alas no longer: the house reeks and the bin is full of cookware - and it's all down to my pursuit of the perfect oriental salmon.
I write this in loving memory of my griddle.
Let us begin this sorry saga with the tale of Salmon Marinated in Den Miso (How To Eat).
I should have known better: miso and I have history. For many years I had heard folk eulogise about the mythical black cod in miso. I was not tempted for cod is not a fish I hold any fondness for. It works in fish fingers but otherwise it is bottom of my list of piscine delights.
But then, at a family function, everything changed. Black cod in miso set before me and I too discover that this is surely the most delectable dish on the planet.
Suddenly my dreams were filled with oriental delights and with a trip to taste the fabled Nobu dish out of my impecunious reach, I looked up their recipe on the internet and figured I'd do it myself. First the purchase of all the necessary ingredients: white miso paste, mirin, sake. Then the fish - and with Tesco not exactly having the great range of Japanese exotics I plumped for the poor relation, the bog standard cod. A major error on my part.
I boiled my paste. I anointed the fish. I covered and marinated for several days. I prepared the accompaniment of sushi rice and green vegetables and then I cooked.
Two mouthfuls later the whole lot was in the bin and we were making toast. Bleurgh.
Many months later, when I could once again contemplate miso without feeling faintly nauseous, I came across Nigella's aforementioned recipe and loving salmon as I do, figured this could be the answer.
Trouble is, the oriental supermarket round the corner had now closed down and miso paste was no longer so easy to find in this neck of the woods. The salmon sat slowly decomposing in the fridge throughout my search and then triumph! In the nick of time, on the very day of the "use before" I proudly bore home my trophy and poured, mixed and bubbled to make my sweet smelling marinade, following the instructions to the letter. Until... "marinate the fish for 48 hours"???????
Perhaps I should have read the recipe in full before starting my labours for now I faced a conundrum - leave the fish another two days but risk killing ourselves? Or speed up the process to five hours, 35 minutes? I chose the latter.
That evening I griddled as instructed and a heady aroma filled the house. And stayed. For three days.
The fish itself? Sublime, divine, and any other complimentary adjective you care to throw at it. But the pan was history, congealed with sweet stickiness for just too long (the salmon took a good 10 mins to cook through). No amount of soaking or scrubbing could save it and so I bid it farewell, with grateful thanks for many years of service and the realisation that by the time you factor in a replacement, it would have been cheaper to go to Nobu after all.
I write this in loving memory of my griddle.
Let us begin this sorry saga with the tale of Salmon Marinated in Den Miso (How To Eat).
I should have known better: miso and I have history. For many years I had heard folk eulogise about the mythical black cod in miso. I was not tempted for cod is not a fish I hold any fondness for. It works in fish fingers but otherwise it is bottom of my list of piscine delights.
But then, at a family function, everything changed. Black cod in miso set before me and I too discover that this is surely the most delectable dish on the planet.
Suddenly my dreams were filled with oriental delights and with a trip to taste the fabled Nobu dish out of my impecunious reach, I looked up their recipe on the internet and figured I'd do it myself. First the purchase of all the necessary ingredients: white miso paste, mirin, sake. Then the fish - and with Tesco not exactly having the great range of Japanese exotics I plumped for the poor relation, the bog standard cod. A major error on my part.
I boiled my paste. I anointed the fish. I covered and marinated for several days. I prepared the accompaniment of sushi rice and green vegetables and then I cooked.
Two mouthfuls later the whole lot was in the bin and we were making toast. Bleurgh.
Many months later, when I could once again contemplate miso without feeling faintly nauseous, I came across Nigella's aforementioned recipe and loving salmon as I do, figured this could be the answer.
Trouble is, the oriental supermarket round the corner had now closed down and miso paste was no longer so easy to find in this neck of the woods. The salmon sat slowly decomposing in the fridge throughout my search and then triumph! In the nick of time, on the very day of the "use before" I proudly bore home my trophy and poured, mixed and bubbled to make my sweet smelling marinade, following the instructions to the letter. Until... "marinate the fish for 48 hours"???????
Perhaps I should have read the recipe in full before starting my labours for now I faced a conundrum - leave the fish another two days but risk killing ourselves? Or speed up the process to five hours, 35 minutes? I chose the latter.
That evening I griddled as instructed and a heady aroma filled the house. And stayed. For three days.
The fish itself? Sublime, divine, and any other complimentary adjective you care to throw at it. But the pan was history, congealed with sweet stickiness for just too long (the salmon took a good 10 mins to cook through). No amount of soaking or scrubbing could save it and so I bid it farewell, with grateful thanks for many years of service and the realisation that by the time you factor in a replacement, it would have been cheaper to go to Nobu after all.
Tuesday, 26 January 2010
Bad bad bad (and good good good)
Am very bad person. Blog has taken a back seat to more glamorous projects (new book!) though the cooking has continued. So time to play catch up with the results.
First up - oooh, let's go for Smoked Trout Pate (Nigella Express)
I was asked to provide a starter for 17 for a festive meal. The instructions were "not soup, you're coming late so not something that needs a lot of heating". Helpful eh?
I was thinking canapes - trays of glam bites that would wow everyone in sight. But on a practical level (not least in terms of reheating/assembly/transportation/gradual soggification) that plan ended up in the bin.
So taking a gamble that no one had anything against fish I went for two simple options. One: tiny squares of pumpernickel topped with cream cheese and smoked salmon (a winner). And two: the aforementioned pate.
Simple is an understatement: shove cheese, olive oil, fish, lemon juice and cayenne pepper into a processor. Whizz it around for a bit and hey presto. Delicious in the extreme and plaudits all round.
As appears to be my wont, I omitted one ingredient. Didn't put in any horseradish because I figured the rest of the jar would rot at the back of the fridge and in my new, improved, waste-not regime that's a no no. But it was mighty fine even without and indeed the baby and I made it again yesterday, she sampling each ingredient first (bar the cayenne pepper - she may be too young to call Child Line but I figured it might be classed as cruelty nonetheless).
"Oooh salmon" she said enthusiastically. "yum yum bubblegum"
I did start to explain the difference between salmon and trout but a) figured at 20 months it's not up there on her need-to-know list and b) ran out of things to say after "one's a bit bigger than the other".
First up - oooh, let's go for Smoked Trout Pate (Nigella Express)
I was asked to provide a starter for 17 for a festive meal. The instructions were "not soup, you're coming late so not something that needs a lot of heating". Helpful eh?
I was thinking canapes - trays of glam bites that would wow everyone in sight. But on a practical level (not least in terms of reheating/assembly/transportation/gradual soggification) that plan ended up in the bin.
So taking a gamble that no one had anything against fish I went for two simple options. One: tiny squares of pumpernickel topped with cream cheese and smoked salmon (a winner). And two: the aforementioned pate.
Simple is an understatement: shove cheese, olive oil, fish, lemon juice and cayenne pepper into a processor. Whizz it around for a bit and hey presto. Delicious in the extreme and plaudits all round.
As appears to be my wont, I omitted one ingredient. Didn't put in any horseradish because I figured the rest of the jar would rot at the back of the fridge and in my new, improved, waste-not regime that's a no no. But it was mighty fine even without and indeed the baby and I made it again yesterday, she sampling each ingredient first (bar the cayenne pepper - she may be too young to call Child Line but I figured it might be classed as cruelty nonetheless).
"Oooh salmon" she said enthusiastically. "yum yum bubblegum"
I did start to explain the difference between salmon and trout but a) figured at 20 months it's not up there on her need-to-know list and b) ran out of things to say after "one's a bit bigger than the other".
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