Mentioned this notion before: that some things are best left to their own devices to develop taste and unctuousness by natural processes. This is probably akin to the biological and physical actions called ‘rotting’ in other situations, but let’s not dwell on that.
Supper tonight was a perfect example of many things: the virtue of making a curry from the finest ingredients (in this instance the remains of a leg of lamb that had first been baked on a bed of vegetables to which a can of beer had been added; plenty of herbs and three hours on a very low oven – thank you for the inspiration Rick Stein), not eating it all at once (another virtue indeed), and the festering effect of freezing.
I hope no-one out there’s in the camp that decries microwaves and freezers as devices of the culinary devil. For us they are essential to eating well, cheaply and sometimes fast.
So take the curry: one click top box full of lamb with aubergine and defrost, along with a couple of portions of frozen mixed rice (wild, brown and organic white) cooked to store a week ago. Now, there were last night’s left over potatoes (red salad ones as it happens) and they got diced and thrown into the lamb to reheat.
Now this sort of meal can easily be lacking the fresh veg we need – so I made large bowl of raita: peel and chop half a cucumber; finely chop about a third of a red onion; sprinkle with salt; then fold into thick plain yoghourt. Now you don’t want anything too posh for the yoghourt: it mustn’t have any sense of sweetness for my taste, so the extraordinary River Cottage yoghourt that tastes as though it’s made from double cream is no good. Sprinkle on a quarter teaspoon of garam masala and a pile of chopped coriander and you’re done.
Make sure curry and rice are piping hot. Serve in deep bowls and feast. Chapatis, nan breads et al will bulk out the fibre if you need too …. but they really need to be home made so no time tonight ….
Recent food
Flat pack bread – the result
So proof of the pudding – in this case the bread – is in the eating. And the Ikea loaf in the box has passed with flying colours.
First this morning it made toast. Now any bread this substantial is going to make quite a slice and this was no exception, but it became crisp and chewy with a good bite. Not quite the long taste of a sourdough, but interesting enough and fine with peanut butter and home made lime marmalade – separately that is.
Tonight we had it with a selection of cheeses and it again was good – not overpowering, but interesting and moorish.
So, it does work. And I expect it to improve with age over the next few days – if it lasts that long….
The rest of supper was an organic chicken roasted with fresh herbs on a bed of thinly sliced fennel. Great taste, tough to eat. The roasted vegetables were refreshed with half a tin of tomatoes, and there were steamed red potatoes. Altogether good, if disappointing, expensive bird. The left overs had better be good.
Bread in a box? Seriously?
Well, yes. It’s seems that Ikea can even flat pack food. We all know, don’t we, that its food shop has great crisp bread, scrummy herrings of all sorts and wonderful red berry compote (far too slurpy to be called jam by the British and great on home made muesli (passim)) and of course meat balls? Now it has added Swedish rye bread in a box.
It has been blogged about before, but I hadn’t noticed and this one didn’t have much success.
The first thing is that although not cheap (about £2) the contents of the box seems to have a fine provenance: the home of Nordic rye bread and a family firm of millers who are big time in that part of the world. They are called Finax and as well as bread, produce muesli and a whole range, no less, of shake in the box products, especially muffins. See a fun video here.
So, what do you get? Well a box obviously, and of the Tetrapak kind since it was invented thereabouts. The instructions are clear: add water (for this you do need a thermometer, which as a sometimes souredough maker we had), and shake for 45 secs. I’d recommend a bit longer since there was a lump of hesitant ingredients lurking in a corner when I tipped it out straight into a greased bread tin: wait for 45 mins. It didn’t rise much but you wouldn’t expect a bread of this sort to. Into hot oven and wait another hour (again this might seem a long time, but par for the course for this sort of bread).
What’s it like? No telling, yet. I’ll turn it out and let it fester: most rye bread is best left for a day so I suspect it’ll be started at breakfast tomorrow. I’ll let you know.
For now it’s off to finish the roasted veg, steamed broccoli and grilled organic burgers from the happy pig man (Caermynydd Piggery Free Range Pork 01974 821 361 01545 571 607) at the Riverside food market.
Lazy food days
It started Friday because sister in law needed birthday pub lunch and The Halfway is a few yards from the office and home. A perfectly competent fish and chips did the job, but why the bullet sized peas? 
They’re one thing that freezes well so either buy decent ones or make them mushy. Supper reduced to bread and cheese to compensate.
Saturday got off to a flying start with a Big Breakfast (poached eggs, mushrooms and tomatoes with Sunflower seeded toast) so lunch was off the agenda. However, a surprise find at Ogmore Castle and the nearby farm tea rooms meant a slice of ‘Judith’s’ white chocolate cake with a dark chocolate granache: one between two mind you. Quite the most amazing view and a cake to go back for.
So, again some bought stuffed pasta for supper and early to bed.
Real Sardines on Toast
For this you need some left over (or specially done, worth it) grilled sardines, not a tin (delicious though they are in their own right).
Carefully fillet the by now cold fish – you can be picky about only using really nice bits, free of bones, they are so very cheap.
Toast a slice of good bread per person – we used tonight a seven seeds, wholegrain; sourdough would be good, Ciabata if it’s your thing. Butter. Cover with chopped crisp lettuce stuff (or posh leaves if you want, but I like crunchy for this).
Now lay the fish on top, be generous. Sprinkle on a good quantity of chopped red onion and finish with a dollop of salsa – shop will be fine. Stick a gherkin or two alongside.
Eat and be surprised.
It was an occasion when the starter was infinitely better than what followed – an indifferent stir fry of fresh vegetables, hair noodles and spicy sausage. The spicy wasn’t, I’d held back on the black bean sauce, the vegetables didn’t shine and the hair noodles were just – well, hairy. Win some, lose some.
Terrine defrosts with impact
So craving meat, we decided to start with a terrine salad – before the half dozen sardines to share. This was no more complicated than remembering to take a two-slice pack out of the deep freeze where it had lain for a week or so.
It’s original purpose had been to provide a starter for guests (one of whom turned out not to eat meat, alongside another who wouldn’t be able to eat it because of the fat content – hey, ho such is home catering.) It was prepared as a special treat for the partner of the low-fat guest since he, gamely and for his own health, usually stuck with the house rules. So a good one was required.
We happened to have a liver from the last dead pig so the other meat required was a good 600 grams of minced pork (organic and almost no fat) from the butcher. The technique is simple, but likely to be gory for some. This suits a large – 14 inches or so – terrine.
You need a Magimix or similar to avoid too much chopping. Start with the fresh breadcrumbs: as usual you get out what you put in so nice sourdough or decent brown organic with a bit of rough stuff is good. You need a good couple of handfuls of roughish, not fine crumbs. Then blitz a load of fresh herbs – parsley and sage are pretty essential. If you like crunchy bits why not stick a few whole pepper corns in for zapping too? I don’t think you can really overdo the herbs ….
In a large bowl really mix the minced meat, crumbs and herby seasoning together: at this point using hands is definitely best.
Back to the Magimix – which you don’t need to have cleaned if you are doing things in this order – in which we are going to chop the liver, unless that is you want to do it by hand. For the machine, you need to have removed all the obviously unnecessary bits and cut the liver into big chunks. Then, using the zap (or pulse) button chop the liver. If you end up being too energetic and are left with a mush, don’t worry.
Mix liver into meat (spatula for me at this point) add one whole egg and a glug of something alcoholic – red wine, Marsala, Port all work. If you have some, a tablespoon or good glug of cognac is good too. We need a pretty moist, but not sloppy consistency. Season aggressively. If you want to check the seasoning take a teaspoonful of the mix and quickly fry a little ball in a non stick fry pan – and taste.
Now prep your terrine: you need a good quantity of rindless (saves a lot of work) streaky bacon, unsmoked. I use a rolling pin to spread it out – a meat basher does the job too if you have one. You need to line the dish so that you have enough hanging over bits of bacon to cover the top when it’s filled.
Pile about half of the meat mix into the baconed terrine. Then add a layer of goodies – this is what make it so interesting to eat, and pretty to look at when sliced. For this particular one I used a roasted Guinea Fowl – laying long shreds in the centre of the dish. Then a good sprinkling of pine nuts (lightly toasted if you have time) chopped nuts, whatever. Some chunky strips of ham covered everything. We’re putting in texture, contrast and eye candy here.
Pile the rest of the meat on top making sure it envelopes the middle layer of extras, pull all the bacon slices over it, put half a dozen bay leaves prettily on the top and it’s done. It needs a baine marie (big baking pan/dish half filled with boiling water) and a slowish cook, medium oven for a couple of hours covered with foil. If the skewer comes out clean it’s done.
As soon as it’s cool enough to handle, fold the foil into a shape that neatly fits the top of your dish. Then precariously balance tins along the whole length – you want as much weight as you can to compress the terrine while it cools.
When cold (probably overnight) put in fridge and try to resist eating for at least 24 hours. There’s an important cooking technicality called ‘festering’ and it applies to curries, terrines, and even some cakes.
For the first serving (this has made at least ten portions!) cheat by carefully removing the whole terrine from its dish – discarding the jelly that will have collected if you have fat sensitive friends like me (oh happy dog!) and with a very sharp knife cut the slices you need, putting the rest back into the now cleaned dish. You get an ‘Ooh Aah’ factor from the luscious slice on its plate with a few leaves and, yes a fanned gherkin (posh Cornichons in a separate dish please).
Leftovers, slice, pack in pairs with kitchen paper in between, and freeze in bags. Defrost naturally and they’re just as scrummy as the day they were made.
This is not a dish for the fainted hearted, either in making or eating. Yep, real meat.
Starting with left overs
There are some kitchen jobs that define the notion of boredom and make little or no difference to the outcome: halving and deseeding grapes, taking the pips out of tomatoes or cucumbers. Some mind numbing tasks however have a real impact or are essential: double shelling big broad beans springs to mind. And shucking the left over mussels …
They had to be done before bed last night and the box had a lot more in than I had anticipated meaning that they deserved something more than left over status. So although ‘starters’ aren’t usually on the menu in the week, that’s what they became. A heafty slosh of lime juice in some Hellman’s made a good mayo and all there was to do was make a pile of leaves, mussels and mayo.
The surprise was how good it was. I’d have never have thought of cooking fresh mussels for this sort of thing – even for a posh nosh night with guests. How wrong can you be? They were incomparably better than anything from the fishmonger, fresher, juicier and with a much more subtle taste than bought pre-cooked. So next time I do a starter like this, fresh it has to be, in spite of all that shelling……
To follow in this fishiest of weeks: a couple of large trout simply grilled, on a plate with fresh steamed spinach and some sauteed brown mushrooms. Too much already?
Fishy week ahead
The bags gave it away: the weekly shop has loads of fish. Apparently we’ve been eating too much meat. Fine by me.
First off then the mussels. Not from the Menai Straits here in Wales where 50% of the UK’s mussles are landed, no these were from West Scotland, via Morrisons, a pretty unusual supermarket choice for us.
So one chopped leek, a handful of spring onions, a lump of fennel all chopped and sweated in a bit of olive oil. Half a bottle of white wine, some chopped parsley, seasonings and a ten minute bubble in our largest saucepan (a Robert Welch steamer without the steamer bit).
Whilst that looks after itself, the scraping and de-bearding of the mussels – boring but not a culinary challenge, but I bet that’s what puts people off. And we had two bags – one never seems enough and the two were going to make us fuller than full and leave some for a salad tomorrow.
They seemed very fine, few broken or open ones (bin these) and were soon ready to cook. I have to admit that the other half of Belgium’s national dish (the chips) were a low fat, skins on , oven cook variety that promised lots of flavour and few calories … well you can’t have everything.
In with the mussels, on with the lid. Wait. A big stir – there was a ton of the beasts – and a bit longer. Then, when they were all opened they were piled high in deep bowls, with a large plastic mixing bowl for the debris.
Not neat or decorous eating, you have to get in there with the shell you use as a clamp for the next tasty mollusc extracted from its shell. Of course, some people hate them and assume that you’ll die from poisoning instantly.
For us, the first of our fishy suppers: quick, inexpensive and a dish quite without equal. The chips? Ok, ish.
Muesli as Luxury
If you stay at Holiday Inn Expresses (which I do often and recommend as the best of the cheap brands) the best you get for breakfast is Alpen. Now once we thought that was very good for you, but now we know that it’s sugar laden (although it says not!) and tastes like, well yes, sawdust.
I remember the shock of real Bircher Muesli when staying at the Hilton in Brussels where in the little bar/breakfast room reserved for boring business men (actually all men) they served the most delicious and luxurious freshly made muesli. Hooked I was on stuff ‘invented’ in 1887.
Now Google off and see that there are 80,000 entries and most of them recipes claiming to be original. Well here’s my version, modeled on the luxurious, but healthy one I tasted that day.
I make enough in one go for about four portions – that’s two days for two of us if it doesn’t get snacked. Keeps ok, the apple will discolour whatever you do. But fresh is best. Start before going to bed.
First cast your oats – two generous handfuls of the best you can get, look for organic and not too milled. Supermarket ‘best’ is ok but never, but never try this with Quaker Oats! A further handful of sultanas and cover the lot with apple juice – not too much, when you wake up you want the oats and fruit to have soaked up the juice and be plump and squidgy, not swimming in it.
In the morning finish off: grate one large or two small apples into the mix. We’re now enjoying early Worcesters from the farmers’ market at Riverside. Call Old Sandlin Fruit apples and pears 01886 833200 07768 748 798 – use their juice for absolute heaven.
Then add a couple tablespoons each of seeds, sunflower, pumpkin, whatever and quite a lot more of roughly chopped nuts, again whatever takes your fancy, but mixed and either plain or slightly roasted. You want to end up with a ratio of soaked oats and other stuff of about 50:50, this is meant to be scrummy, not scrimpy.
When you’re convinced it’s mixed to distribute all the tastes fairly, add some creamy stuff. Yes, low fat natural yoghourt will do, but if dieting is not on the agenda – when’s that? – use fromage frais low or full fat. I have been known to use clotted cream! You want a sticky mass consistency not sloppy.
Finally put in a bowl and eat, on its own, or with a generous blob of compote, or just a chopped banana if you want a sugar kick.
After a few ‘testings’ you’ll have perfected your own particular mix of crunchy, vibrant, fresh goodness. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s not the original recipe, ‘cos it is, it’s your original recipe and that’s so much nicer.
A late Sunday lunch thanks to Waitrose
There are only two Waitrose supermarkets in Wales. We couldn’t afford to shop there much anyway, but that is still bad news. Our nearest at Barry is always empty (of customers that is) but well stocked and personed (how do we do without manned?) by very nice staff.
Enough of adverts: we were starving having been walking at Pothkerry Country Park and needed a quick fix when we got home.
Thinking of the success we’ve had twice with feeding people with various of Nigel’s Chicken Rice Salad (done with duck once for posher friends), I cobbled this together as I ran round.
This was a substantial two: double rice and stuff for four, there’s enough chicken for four easy.
Lazy warm chicken salad al la Slater
Grab: one hot chicken, pouch of Tilda cooked rice (I used lime and coriander), bag of leaves – ought to include rocket I feel, spring onions, tasty tomatoes. (The last two items had come previously from Darts Farm very excellent shop. We also ate there really good – as good as you get – fresh fish and chips. Recommended)
You will also need lime juice, fish sauce, decent olive oil, a fresh chilli or two, some flat leaf parsley and fresh mint: but you have all those things lying around, don’t you?
How to: snip of top off rice pouch and microwave (yes, we have one! I know ….) for two minutes or a bit less. We only want it warm not piping hot.
In a big bowl mix two glugs each of oil, fish sauce, lime juice. Add chopped herbs and onions and finely chopped chilli to taste – it needs a kick.
After the rice has calmed down a bit add to the bowl and give hearty stir to ensure all the rice has a chance to soak up some more flavour. If you are using left over rice (hell of a lot cheaper of course) you may want to boost the seasoning a bit more.
Now you’ve choices. If you are following the Slater route you’ll chop up the chicken nicely, add to the rice and add sprouts. That’s good. Today I did it easier. Into deep plates I piled the leaves, made a bit of a space and put the rice in the middle – yes it wilts the leaves a bit..
Then some nice chunks of the quite warm bird on top, some slices of the flavoursome tomatoes, a splash more oil and off to table. Crunchy bread, red wine, sleep (well it is Sunday).
Prep time less than ten minutes. Cost, extravagant ‘cos lazy, but it was Waitrose so it all tasted great.
You will also need lime juice, fish sauce, decent olive oil, a fresh chilli or two, some flat leaf parsley and fresh mint: but you have all those things lying around, don’t you?
How to: snip of top off rice pouch and microwave (yes, we have one! I know ….) for two minutes or a bit less. We only want it warm not piping hot.
In a big bowl mix two glugs each of oil, fish sauce, lime juice. Add chopped herbs and onions and finely chopped chilli to taste – it needs a kick.
After the rice has calmed down a bit add to the bowl and give hearty stir to ensure all the rice has a chance to soak up some more flavour. If you are using left over rice (hell of a lot cheaper of course) you may want to boost the seasoning a bit more.
Now you’ve choices. If you are following the Slater route you’ll chop up the chicken nicely, add to the rice and add sprouts. That’s good. Today I did it easier. Into deep plates I piled the leaves, made a bit of a space and put the rice in the middle – yes it wilts the leaves a bit..
Then some nice chunks of the quite warm bird on top, some slices of the flavoursome tomatoes, a splash more oil and off to table. Crunchy bread, red wine, sleep (well it is Sunday).
Prep time less than ten minutes. Cost, extravagant ‘cos lazy, but it was Waitrose so it all tasted great.
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