The great cream crisis 2008

Kendal has exhausted its supply of cream. Morrisons, Booths, Iceland, and several smaller shops are all out: not a drop of single, nor a blob of double, nor a dollop of extra thick double to be found.

Foodies are staring into the abyss. An elderly man scrapes a dry piece of Christmas pudding around a lonely bowl, the dough moistened only by his tears. Children ask for pudding, too young to understand the terror engulfing our town. Mothers can only bite down on their ring fingers, pensively looking out onto the frosty morning.

I have moved to Leeds, and I am currently emptying what cream I can find into a bath tub.

Nanaimo bars

Nanaimo is "the city so beautiful it's alright to stare". It has a proud tradition of bathtub racing. And it has punched well above its weight in the culinary world, giving us the gift of the Nanaimo bar.

I owe thanks to a former housemate for this discovery, or rather, his Mum; he always brought back a neatly packed box full of the sweets coming back after Christmas.

The recipe is simple, with minimal cooking required. The only thing I did differently was to toast the walnuts after chopping them. This is a universal way of intensifying the flavour of any nuts. I'd also suggest working rapidly with the chocolate topping, as it starts to cool quickly after resting on top of the icing.

Cut them into bite sized chunks. They are far too sickly to have in any kind of quantity, but are perfect with an after dinner coffee.

The recipe is copyright Ben's Mum.

A wholesome recommendation

From the back of "Little Town Dairy" soured cream

Goose for Christmas

In a change from our usual free range chicken, we are having goose this year. Mother scotch woodcock has ordered it from Booths at a cost of £42. My job is thinking up something to do with the leftovers.

That's right: forty-two whole English pounds. Booths, accurately known as "the Waitrose of the North" has a posh xmas catalogue, in which the affluent consumer can order goose, caviar, ribs of beef, smoked salmon, and anything else to aid a luxury food pre-emptive strike against the Joneses. Blinis at dawn.

Inevitably, upstart discount store Aldi has yet again got one over its middle class relatives, by selling whole geese for £15.99. It's there at the bottom, underneath the ladies party tights and CD Rom gift packs.

A toffee hammer!

AKA the world's most specific kitchen utensil.

It could have other uses - bashing out miniature fillet steaks, crushing up walnuts, or if your tool box gets robbed.

Whatever happens, the user must have to really like bonfire toffee.

Aldi, Lidl: take note

Those of us with tastebuds have long suspected that there is a big difference between a dirt cheap wine (less than £3) and a cheap win (£4 or so). Here's why.

Duty on wine is based on volume, while VAT is based on price. This means that whether you have a bottle of Chateau Lafite, or a bottle of Lambrusco, you pay the same duty. A pound extra on wine will actually go towards the quality. Imagine what £10 must do.

This is from another (but welcome!) cookbook given as a birthday present, The Cook's Pocket Bible by Roni Jay.

A note on knives

What is the difference between chefs and the rest of us?

Knifes. Hulking great knives.

A good chef knows knives intimately. The chefs I’ve been able to chat to closely could give me 20 minutes on the relative merits of Victorinox and Global.

I’d go for Global, if only because they are based on samurai swords.

I have an Sheffield Steel cook's knife, it suits me well. Knives need to be looked after, which means handwashing, not leaving them to soak for several hours, and certainly not cutting directly onto metal, the cardinal sin of knife use.

Whenever I’m in someone else’s kitchen, quietly judging their cooking skills, I am often dismayed by the low standard blades used for cooking. A good knife is safer to use than a bad one; it is also much easier.

At a kitchen I worked in recently, one of the other temporary workers was a trained chef, and it showed. He turned a cucumber into uniform slices in well under a minute. All I heard was machine gun like tapping. This is a proper, pro-skill; not something your average domestic chef will ever master. It may look like showing off, but in a busy kitchen it is an essential skill.

I felt very mortal – I must get practicing.

Jaime Oliver - don't call him a knobhead

Jaime's back, with Jaime's Ministry of Food. It makes terrific telly, with the people of Rotherham being as abrasive as you might expect with a poncey southerner.

The South Yorkshire accents are wonderful. Already he has been called a knobhead - this would never happen to Valentine Warner.

Rotherham saw a local revolt against his school meals revolution, when famously local mum Julie Critchlow was seen passing burgers through the school fence.

Jame now aims at another culinary revolution, by turning the whole town onto fish in a bag and basil oil. The plan is to teach a dedicated few a handful of recipes, who will then teach another two, and so on.

Does Mrs Critchlow think it will succeed? "No".

It started well. Jaime's meatball recipe was enjoyed and passed on, even if as Mrs Critchlow suggested it was just because Jaime's new students were simply sucking up. But at by the end of the show, none of the students had passed on the salmon recipe, and many of the participants were pointing out that their priorities were paying the bills, not shopping for fresh veg.

This is the secret of Jaime's TV shows. Few other personalities are quite so prepared to be humbled - this is an ongoing theme of his shows, from rebellious students on Jaime's Kitchen, to kids preferring junk to home made foccacia on Jaime's School Dinners, to Italians stubbornly refusing to enjoy his food on Jaime's Great Italian Escape.

For even putting himself in a position to be called a knobhead, Jaime should be saluted.

Sloe progress

The virtue of the sloe was highlighted by TV's newest (and poshest) chef Valentine Warner in last weeks episode, here is a recipe.

It really is worth doing, provided you can cope with the idea of waiting for 3 months for something to be ready.

The recipe is old-school Constance Spry, who suggests that you use the boozy leftover sloes in a pies. That is perhaps taking avoiding waste a step too far. The age of the recipe is given away by measuring the berries in pints.

My attempt at picking them last year was marred only by having no idea what I was looking for. I ended up with sloes, elderberries, and lots of rose hips. I've included a pic to save on phone calls from the middle of a field.

Sloe gin
1 and a half pint sloes
Quart gin (a 750ml bottle will do - cheap stuff is fine)
3/4 pounds caster sugar
Few drops almond essence
1l kilner jar

Prick each sloe a couple of times with a sharp fork. Put all the ingrediants into the jar, and shake. Leave to develop somewhere cool and dark for at least three months, shaking every so often. Once the time is up, strain using muslin or filter papers. Make sure you have a nice bottle on hand to decant into.

Creamed goats cheese tagliatelle with summer vegetables

Yes, I know it ain't so hot out there anymore, but I made this in honour of the final few peas desperately clinging on in our back garden and the penultimate courgette in the bottom of the fridge.

Anything else green and fresh will do; asparagus, broad beans, tender stem broccoli etc, but for the rest of the year you might just have to pick out what is in the freezer.

I used up a little cylinder of Cornish goats cheese. You could also use a piece from the goats cheese logs which are in most supermarket delis, but I find the flavour odd and the texture too chalky.

The dish is designed so you can cook up everything in the time it takes for the pasta to boil.

Creamed goats cheese tagliatelle with summer vegetables (serves 2)
Approx 100g goats cheese
2tbsp double cream
Two cloves of garlic, peeled
1 medium courgette
Handful of peas
Butter
200g tagliatelle

Put on lots of hot water to boil. You'll need some for the pasta, veg, and the garlic. Salt a pan of water generously and put the pasta on. Next, add an inch or so worth of water into a small pan, and gently poach the garlic for 5/6 minutes, until soft.

Cut the courgettes into rounds, then quarter the rounds. Cook the courgettes in plenty of salted water until soft, adding the peas for the last minute if using fresh.

Mash the goats cheese until soft, stir in the cream and add the finely chopped garlic. It will still have a stiff texture.

Heat a knob of butter in a large frying pan until foaming, throw in the veg and stir around for a couple of minutes, to allow the veg to soak up the butter. Add the mashed goats cheese, turn the heat down and stir until the cheese has oozed to a melting quality and coated the veg all over. By now, the pasta should be done, so drain and add to the pan. Toss some more.

Serve on hot plates, grind over lots of black pepper.

Sauce gribiche

For breast of lamb Ste-Menehould or breadcrumbed fish.

Sauce gribiche
1 shallot
1 tbsp of chopped parsley
3 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp lemon juice
1 tbsp finely chopped gherkins/ cornichons
Zest of half a lemon
Yolk of a hard boiled egg, chopped

Stir all the ingrediants together

Breast of lamb Ste-Menehould

"It is very cheap (breast of lamb was 8d a pound at Harrods last Saturday)" - Elizabeth David

I love the irony of going to a luxury store to buy one of the cheapest cuts of meat available.

This recipe is from An Omelette and a Glass of Wine, and is reprinted in its entirety by Simon Hopkinson in Roast Chicken and Other Stories. I've blogged the recipe, having just cooked it for tea, because although the Elizabeth David reads well, and Simon Hopkinson is right to say "it really is very easy", I think the recipe could do with a bit more instruction.

Incidentally, while I don't know if it is still available in Harrods, you can get it in Morrisons. I bought a good pounds worth for a little under £2.

Breast of lamb Ste-Menehould (serves 2)
Approx 1lb/450g breast of lamb in one piece
2 small onions, sliced
2 carrots, sliced
Bouquet garni (any combination of thyme, parsley, bay leaf or rosemary)
2 ounces of streaky bacon, in one piece (optional)
Breadcrumbs
Dijon mustard
1 egg, beaten

Switch on the oven, setting it on its lowest heat. In a generous, oven proof pan heat some olive oil or butter. Sweat the carrot and onion over a medium heat until softened. Add the meat, herbs, and bacon (if using) and add enough boiling water to cover. Season. Bring to the boil on the hob, then transfer to the oven. Cook for at least two hours on the lowest setting. After two hours or so the meat should be meltingly tender, and offer a skewer no resistance.

Turn the oven up to a moderate heat - gas mark 5 will do. Remove the meat from the cooking liquor, and allow to cool. Pat the meat dry, and cut the meat with the grain into strips 2" thick. Paint one side of the meat with mustard, toss in the egg and then roll in the breadcrumbs, coating all sides of the meat. Once this has been done to every piece, cook in the oven for a further 15-20 minutes, until the breadcrumbs are dry and crunchy. Drizzle the top of each piece with some melted butter, then flash under the overhead grill until the butter sizzles. Dish up on hot plates, and serve with green veg and mashed potatoes.

This would go really well with a sauce gribiche.

Cheese and mayonnaise . . .

. . . DO NOT belong together.

Thar's nowt like Yorkshire prudence

God bless Yorkshire, a sunny place on our glorious green Earth where an absurd bargain can still be had. Shopping at the Hyde Park exotic food store, we bought:

1 aubergine
2 vegetable samosas
Large bunch of parsley
2 courgettes
A head of celery
Bulb of fennel
5 onions
4 potatoes
6 apples
A lemon and lime
3 heads of garlic
3 nectarines
8 bananas
2 tins of tomatoes
Tin of chick peas
Tin of cannelloni beans
2 red peppers
Box of rice crispies (the costliest item at £2.50)

All for a little over £15.

Sadly, they don't sell fillet steak or petrol.

How do you like your placenta?

I've known that a placenta is edible, and to some, a delicacy, ever since watching the old-school Hugh Fearnley-Whitingstall programme TV Dinners. But I did not know the practice had such high profile admirers until an article in today's guardian, which reveals Tom Cruise planned to eat his daughter Suri's (eeeeeeeeewwwww).

But what nutritionally do you get from a placenta? Does it pack lots of flavour?

Unless the Mum happens to be particularly stoical, it is unlikely to be organic. But on the other hand, it is a good way to avoid waste.

The recipes on the Internet are disappointing. A good meat recipe should have the meat as the principle ingredient, rather than a constituent. You shouldn't add meat to a dish just because you can. Then again, I've never gorged on my new born infant's placenta, so what little I know.

Here is a recipe for placenta pate, a dish TV Dinners found was not to OFCOM's taste.

Mum's tarragon chicken

A bit more from Elizabeth David, and a recipe right in my personal "top 5 things to eat" list.

The following recipe is much more my Mum's. Most Elizabeth David recipes tend to be light on detail, such as for how long to cook the thing. Here is a bit more instruction. You end up with a juicy, nicely roasted bird with crisp skin, accompanied by a delicious, fragrant gravy.

I've been told that the trick is to search out French tarragon, as opposed to Russian, as there is a big difference in flavour. There is a little bunch in a ceramic pot outside our back door, but it has failed to sprout so you can't have any.

Mum's tarragon chicken (serves four)
1 x Medium free range chicken, approx 3lb or 1 1/2 kg
50g butter
Large tablespoon French tarragon
Large clove of garlic
Small glass of brandy
Creme fraiche

Pre-heat the oven to gas mark 6/ 200c/ 400f. Make a herb butter, by mashing together the softened butter with the tarragon, finely chopped garlic and plenty of seasoning. Smear the bird all over with the butter, and shove some under the skin. Cook the chicken on a wire rack, resting the bird on its side, turning it over half way through, for 1 hour 20 minutes. When the time is up, heat the brandy in a small saucepan, ignite, and pour all over the bird. Turn the oven off, open the oven door, and return the bird, to allow the meat to rest and the flavour of the gravy to develop. 15 minutes will do it. Finally, place the bird on a carving tray, and whisk a couple of tablespoons of creme fraiche into the juices. Serve the gravy separate.

Bad recipes

An occasional series proving even the great and good suffer inexplicable lapses in taste.

Skimming through Elizabeth David's beautifully readable cookbooks, you forget how earthy and robust much of her recipes are. And nothing is quite as no-frills as Kokkoretsi, Greek offal kebabs. The name alone is ominous, with an internment camp punishment ring to it. No doubt "mountain herbs and lemons" could make anything palatable, but it wouldn't change the fact that this is one of the most alarming recipes ever written.

Kokkoretsi, from Elizabeth David's "A Book of Mediterranean Food"
"The insides of a sheep - heart, liver, lungs, kidneys, brains, sweetbreads, everything - are cut into small pieces, heavily seasoned with mountain herbs and lemon and threaded on to skewers. The intestines of the animal are cleaned and wound round the skewers, which are then grilled very slowly on a spit. They are, in fact, a sort of primitive sausage, the intestine on the outside acting as a sausage skin".

Mmmmm. Mmm.

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