Roti de Cabillaud a la Sauge

Back at my place, I decided to try something out of Stephane Reynaud's Rotis for our own Christmas roast. I've been getting overexcited about this book ever since I was in Borders last week and put a copy under my coat and ran off with it down the street laughing manically the whole way... Of course not! I got if for half price, which practically felt like theft.
I love the way this book is laid out, there is one page entitled How Would You Like Your Roast Beef Cooked? the options are Rare, Medium, and Very Rare! What if I like it Medium/Well? Tough tits. Here are also suggestions for the most appropriate meat to roast each day - Monday is beef, Tuesday is veal, Wednesday is poultry, Thursday is pork, Friday is fish (lets not forget that France is a Catholic country! I love that scene in Heaven Know Mr. Allison where Robert Mitchum tells Deborah Kerr that Catholics in the Navy get called Mackerel Snappers on that account - ouch! Your mum.), Saturday is lamb, Sunday lunch is game and Sunday dinner is all the leftovers. I wonder how long I would have to be on this diet before I developed gout, but wouldn't be able to roll out of bed to go to the doctor because of how fat I'd gotten. Anyway, everything in moderation.
Here's a fun fact about sage, I've never really cooked with it but I know it's got a sort of medicinal smell and flavour, well apparently it's recently been illegalized in Russia because people have been making psychotropic drugs out of it! And here was I dropping acid when all along I had the thing right in my fridge! Well not quite, I had to go to 4 different supermarkets and a greengrocer to find my little bunch, not sure if there's a connection. It was the same story when I was trying to find a hit of, I mean purchase, chanterelle mushrooms, I could only score 100g and had to bulk it up with oysters and shitakes (that's street slang for 'all mushrooms taste the same anyway').
Would anyone eat swede if it was know universally as rutabaga? Once cooked they look almost like nice chips, but a closer look reveals their true fiborous nature. You lay the parboiled faux-chips and sauteed mushrooms in a baking tray, along with 12 leaves of the illicit herb and spring onions, and place lightly seared cod filles on top. I know it's pretty unethical to be eating cod, but to be honest we were all suffering from salmon ennui, and this is the only sizeable alternative the fishmonger could offer us. And also, cod tastes really really good. I bought an entire one, managed to just about fillet it myself and made stock out of the bones to make myself look really economical.
Result: Maybe you can just about see peeping out from the corner the swede and remains of mushrooms. Well the cod was gorgeous, it melted in the mouth but was still firm and juicy, the mushrooms were rubbery and bitter (undercooked, you idiot!), and the biggest complaint in regard to the swede was that I hadn't done anything to disguise it's natural flavour and it positively reeked of swede. Well that's it, thank God there was pudding for pudding, otherwise it might safely be said that I had RUINED CHRISTMAS!

Christmas Pudding Update

Well, it was delicious. We steamed for about 2 hours and it came out very moist and moreish. The criticism I have of shopbought puddings is that they tend tobe too dry, too sweet and full of crap that I don't like. If you think you don't like pudding, try making your own, it's pretty easy and you don't have to think a year or 6 months in advance, mine only matured for a month.
This is the boyfriend's living room, by the way - I had two Christmases this year hahahahahaha

Gravadlax

I love smoked salmon, I could eat it for breakfast - have something else for lunch - and then have some more smoked salmon for dinner, maybe, as part of a bigger meal, you know what I mean! Anyway, I like it, yeah?
I don't have the money or the equipment to actually be able to live the lifestyle described above, but Gravadlax is probably a suitable alternative. I have a great-great-aunt, my oldest relative, but still under 100, who makes the besteset, most melt in the mouth version of it. Who the hell knows what her secret is, for all I know she buys it in, every time I've asked her she replies with a peal of giggles and mumbles something about some salt and sugar and a few days in the fridge. Then she sits back, watches you inhale her creation, has a shot or two of cognac and asks when I'm going to get married. Maybe this is some kind of special fetishistic singles bashing, she'll give me the recipe when I have a man to prepare it for. Bitch. (obviously not!)
There's another bookshop going out of business near my office, it was a real mess in there and all the good cookbooks were gone, but I found this generic looking Fish & Seafood for a few pounds and decided to give it a good home. It looks like a childrens book, there's a hole in the front cover! You can see scales through it, scales like a fish has! Well anyway, that's enough excitement for now, fun is fun but let's be serious for a minute.
I've had to use my imagination to a certain extent with this recipe, I only have half the amount of salmon, and what exactly is white pepper? I've seen it in old ladies houses at the back of the cupboard, reserved for throwing into burglars eyes. So I'm using black, black like my heart.
I halved all the other ingredients, wrapped it up nice and pretty, threw it in the fridge. And now we play the waiting game...
Result:It's three days later, I've felt like a prisoner, tied to the fridge (so you know, not too bad), I had to turn this baby around every 12 hours, so no going out galivanting and painting the town red. Nevermind, here's the big payoff!
The first bite was very salty and seriously peppery, but the fattier pieces near the skin are almost perfect. Yeah, too much salt, foiled again! I'll get you yet, Penguin!

Incidentally, this is what my brother made with some of the leftover pieces of salmon - probably won't make it onto the Christmas table.

Swedish Salmon

How do you solve a problem like buttloads of salmon?
My dad's wife doesn't eat too much meat so I've been looking for a nice fish to take centre stage on our Christmas table. Salmon is the biggest affordable fish, and we've got one this week, so I've been experimenting.
This Nigella Express was bought by a friend of mine to take with her to University. Emboldened by her father's spiel that he apparently learned to cook while he was living on his own for the first time in student digs, she assumed that she too would blossom and flourish when left to her own devices and return home an accomplished chef. This is the best example of why you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover that I can think of. Go to a library, flick through this thing and tell me what student you know has a fish kettle, and who in their right mind would spend their time and book/drinking money searching out baby pak choi in a remote Northern town. This book was worse than useless, it was actually a little insulting. Martini Olives anyone?
So anyway, she flung it my way in disgust. To be fair, there isn't anything too elaborate about any of these recipes, but Nigella isn't selling the recipes, she's selling a lifestyle. Inside the dustjacket is a panoramic shot of the contents of her larder, full of imported, essential preserves and condiments - The Boyfriend just looked over at me and asked what the hell I'm rolling my eyes at - uff. Ok, lets pretend I'm a millionaire.

I chopped the tail end of the salmon off to use in another recipe, but kept the tail which together with the top half of the body just fit in my biggest metal roasting tin (I refuse to buy a fish kettle on principle!). You cover it with water shove dill and a few condiments in the cavity, and surround the fish with spring onions. Bring to the boil, cover and simmer for a few minutes and then let it sit around and cool overnight. Wait, what? That's right, if you want to have it for lunch you should start making it the day before, if you plan on having it for dinner, well then, you better get your lazy ass up early in the morning! I didn't do either of those, and resolved, albeit with a heavy heart, to have it warm, in an hour or so.
I made the dressing, watched half an episode of Mad Men (oh I am so totally Joan, like you wouldn't believe), boiled a few potatoes and answered incessant questions along the lines of 'Where's my dinner? When can we eat? I can see it sitting there on the counter, it's not even doing anything! Why can't we eat it now? I'm hungry!' Not doing anything? It's infusing! *probably* I can't imagine Nigella has to deal with this kind of crap, in her house everybody's probably too busy getting buzzed up on Prosecco to notice what the food is doing.
Result: I lifted the salmon out of the liquid carefully, scraped all the flesh off and 'arranged' the pink mess on the nicest platter we had with a few drizzles of sauce on top. It was amazing, incredible, perfect and so easy! I was under absolutely no pressure and didn't even have to swear once (take that, Floating Islands!). It tasted of salmon with a slight scent of spring onion coming through, obviously. I had been worried about not having enough seasoning in the stock, but it was perfect. The dressing was hot and peppery from the mustard but cool at the same time - it really tied the room together... And the leftovers were even better the next day. I just have to wonder why in the world would Nigella give away family recipes like this!

Floating Islands

Not a good week at work. Pretty stressful, and Friday was the worst. Some dude in the office had a birthday and I had to go across town to collect the cake, taking it back to the office on the Tube was a nightmare. I gave up my seat for a Little Old Lady (LOL) and that's when the fun started, crazy people shoving me and flashing their bum cracks. Obviously mid day on a Friday is the best time to go Christmas shopping. And who knew that December was the best time of year for skinny jeans and ironic cropped t-shirts. For a guy!
So you know, by the time I got home I was a broken woman. Even a few rounds of my typical Family Friday game of 'How Much Will You Give Me To Drink This Whole Bottle Of...' with my brother didn't do much to cheer me up, so finally I've had to resort to this -

A girl at work lent me Larousse Gastronomique with a specific recommendation to make Floating Islands. Tell me it doesn't look intimidating! This is not so much a cook book as an encyclopedia of virtually every dish and cooking technique ever. I've seen this baby in a few bookshops, but have always been a little too shy to buy, but hopefully this recipe with it's total of 4 ingredients won't present me with too much difficulty.
First, the islands. I'm not going to put up recipes anymore as I'm assuming that eventually it will get me into some kind of copyright trouble, so I'll have to describe the process in more detail.

So, unlike my usual way of making meringues you are instructed to whip the egg whites and fold the sugar in afterwards, um... okaaay? Next poach in boiling milk and drain on a clean kitchen cloth. If you scroll down a bit you'll see that my 'islands' are under attack from some kind of Biblical plague of locusts - that's the vanilla seeds that escaped from the pod into the milk. Nice. I couldn't be bothered to crack the glass of my scanner by heaving this cinder block of a book on to it, but trust me when I say that it's not supposed to look like that in the proper one. Nevermind, right? Onwards and upwards?
I've attempted making my own custard (Creme Anglaise, whatever tomato/tomato) once and it turned out more akin to scrambled eggs. What made me think I could do it this time? (Just for the record, it doesn't say anywhere in the recipe that you should drink a bottle of Courvoisier before you start).
Result: Well the crystal dish looks nice, right? The floating balled up Kleenex, I mean islands, taste like egg whites. The sugar didn't take, and neither did the taste of vanilla, plus they collapsed into pathetic, quivering blobs, whereas in the book each is a handsome puffy orb, drizzled delicately with caramel.
I didn't make any caramel to pour lovingly on top of this mess because the magnolia paint, I mean Creme Anglaise, that is supporting this science experiment was insanely, ridiculously sweet. To be fair the taste wasn't bad at all, it was just the texture. Eager to avoid the mistake I made on my other, and only attempt of thickening sauce with egg, I over whisked the bastard and instead of thickening to a lovely pouring consistency it separated into some kind of flavoured whipped air on top and stupid, yellow milk on the bottom.

Annie, next time you describe something as 'delicious, and so easy!' make sure you're referring to making toast or munching on an apple or something, deal?

Christmas pudding

I'm going to depart from my self imposed format for this one post, you see, the thing is, it's a matter of Christmas Pudding. The boyfriend has finally come out and told me that this is the only aspect of Christmas dinner he looks forward to, and saves room for. I've never heard of such a thing, I mean, ewww pudding, but this is the man I love so my present to him this year is to take him seriously.
No one recipe I found seemed to hit the right note with me. I've never made Christmas pudding before but I wanted to make it really special in case this was the first and only time, and this is going to be an amalgam of every recipe I currently have (and what I saw of Delia's Christmas Special the other night).

The contenders are, Good Housekeeping's Menus circa 1954, this was a birthday present, and despite the year, it's not as old fashioned as I though it might be, there's no MSG or anything like that. The oddest ingredient called for in most recipes in margarine, which I don't think is for sale in the UK anymore. Apparently margarine can be substituted for suet in a Christmas pudding - no thanks. Another ingredient deemed necessary is gravy browning, lets just say Good Housekeeping's pudding looks like a turd (I'll post a picture comparing it with mine)

Winter Puddings from the Cordon Bleu Cookery School was published in 1977 and is part of a whole set of mini books. I also have their Soups and Starters and am totally desperate for Memorable Meals and Cooking from Abroad. I always assumed Cordon Bleu to be concerned with predominantly French food, but by definition winter puddings are British fare, so Spotted Dicks and Apple Hats all round. Their recipe looks a little bland and is conspicuous by the absence of hard booze, the first suggested liquid is milk. Thanks grandma.

And I think we all know what to expect from Nigella Christmas. There's more sugar than flour here, plus honey, plus VODKA! And also bizarrely, no nuts. She also recommends making a 3 pint pudding, not to eat, but to look at. But out of all the books she is the only one who suggests leaving the mixture to infuse overnight (Delia too, of course), and also to soak the dried fruit in alcohol. I wonder if anyone has ever eaten a Christmas pudding sober.

So, the ingredients I used (and didn't take a picture of, you're just going to have to take my word for it) were

-a 500g bag of mixed dried fruits which I think was made up of raisins, currants and sultanas, although what is the big difference between the three?

-mixed peel, from a tub, not freshly made - sorry Delia

-200ml of Captain Morgan rum to soak them in. I managed about 30 minutes, but thanks for the 1 week suggestion Nigella, I'll consider that next time I want to make prison wine. (this is what the bottle looked like after the boyfriend and I finished... cooking)

-some pistachios and walnuts because the boyfriend likes nuts, despite almond being the only recommended nut (I don't want to hear any of that crap about almonds being fruit).

-stem ginger in syrup, for no reason at all other than getting carried away in the dried fruit department of the supermarket. Which is also the reason for...

-dried and maraschino cherries

-prunes, I'm getting quite a taste for them, and because Nigella said so

-dried Sweet William pears. OK, the jig is up, my boyfriend's name just happens to be William. Awww sweet! Don't all puke in your mouths at once.

-plain flour and white breadcrumbs - boring

-vegetarian suet left over from the Bacon Roly Poly, mmmmmmm

-a grated apple and a grated carrot. Good Housekeeping suggests either one, but I was intrigued by the carrot and wanted the two to fight it out inside the pud.

-3 eggs. 3 eggs to rule them all, 3 eggs to find them. 3 eggs to guide them all, and in the darkness bind them! (special nerd points if you know what the hell I'm talking about)

-light brown sugar, because I don't like muscavado and the whole thing was beginning to look pretty sweet to me already

-ground allspice, which I'm going to assume is the same as mixed spice

-ground cinnamon

-vanilla essense, thanks Good Housekeeping!

-ground nutmeg, along with several slices of my knuckle as I was grating it. Everybody always makes a big stink about the superiority of grinding it yourself as opposed to buying it all ready and prepared, so I guess they expect you to sprinkle your food with blood and curses! Incidentally, did you know that nutmeg is a psychotropic drug and that chomping down a couple of nuts can give you a pretty heavy high? Apparently several people a year have to be taken to the hospital to be treated for the effects of nutmeg overdose! I'm serious, this is not Captain Morgan talking!

-the rind and juice of one lemon, because I was getting all carried away with the excitement of the thing and wanted to put more and more ingredients in

-a pinch of salt

Also to go in were two silver coins which had been soaking in Coke and vinegar overnight to 'disinfect' them? Or something...

The bowl with the mixture stood in the corner and thought about what it had done over night, and in the morning I bounced to work and left the boyfriend with very particular steaming instructions, all 6 hours worth of them. I kept calling throughout the day to double check that he put a pleat in the foil cover before tying it down to let the steam expand it, and that he was checking that the water hadn't boiled away, and that he was washing the dishes, hoovering and doing my laundry as well. There must have been something wrong with his phone because it kept going dead every time right about after he said "Shut up and leave me alone" or "I'm not your maid". Strange.

It turned out that there was too much mixture for the bowl I had so we ended up making two large puds and two little ones which I'm going to give away as presents to people I want to potentially poison on Christmas day.
This is what the pretty little ones look like now that I've wrapped them all up nice and tidy

And this is what the big ugly one that my family will be enjoying looks like.

I'll post results on Christmas day after we steam it again and eat it, but at the moment it's maturing under my bed and giving off the most amazing orangey, rummy deep aroma. Just hope it doesn't go mouldy before the big day...

Christmas Bean and Turkey Pies

So my dad's wife is not a big meat eater, so like last year, this Christmas will be a pescetarian affair. For a glutton like me, this is kind of a big deal, so I'm going to try and get as much stodgy traditional yule time fare before the main event so I won't feel like I'm missing out.
What, what I ask you is more festive and Christmassy than baked beans? You know, when I get home from school, I ask mum 'What's for tea?' and she goes 'Heinz Baked Beans' 'cos they're the beans for me! I love beans, not enough to try making them myself or anything, but enough to buy this ridiculous recipe book.
I might have mentioned this before, but the boyfriend hates overly sweet food. The bird he was with before he met me blew her chances at life long happiness by serving him pasta baked with mango chutney and turkey pieces. He had two bites, made his excuses and disappeared into the night. In light of this, maybe it's a subconscious message from me that it's time for us to call it a day when I get the compelling urge to serve him turkey baked with sweet tomatoey beans and cranberry sauce. We've had a good run, but enough is enough. Lets see what happens!
Look at all this crap, are you drooling already at the prospect of putting all these condiments together?
I mix everything in a bowl and start having second thoughts. No wonder he left that girl, this is really gross! FYI my pulling dish was Thai Green Chicken Curry - which he loved - and that's how to keep your man, ladies.
Result: Christmas Bean and Turkey Pies, best served with your hand, straight into the bin.

OK, well not really, but very nearly. The taste is just so unpleasant that no amount of cider will fix it. I ended up draining my portion in Tabasco.
The pastry was fine, obviously, since I had no hand in making it. But somehow all the other ingredients conspire to blend to the point of canceling out any flavour at all. You can't taste the cranberry, which is a plus, but you don't get a taste of anything until you bite into a piece of turkey - which turns out to be revolting. You know how turkey tends to be really dry at the best of times? Well that should be the first hint to not overcook it. Having said that , I'm not sure if having fresh turkey inside would have improved it any. Maybe a combination of freshly roasted turkey, home made cranberry sauce, a dash of spices and no baked beans would have been better.
Experiment fail! There are just some things that you are not meant to eat baked beans with. I'll stick to having mine on lobster thermidor, thanks.

Bacon Roly-Poly

No I'm not dead after eating all those maggots, better luck next time!

I have been busy lately though, what with celebrating the shit out of my birthday, and then paying for my overindulgence. But I'm back in business and will hopefully be a lot more regular in posting about my gastronomic journey of self discovery. Food is so interesting, and you end up learning so much about a culture from the food they eat. For example, I wasn't born in England, and first time I went to a friend's house and their parents gave me a boiled pudding to eat, I thought they were cracked. But if I've learned anything it's that first impressions are always wrong, and Spotted Dick is not as nasty as it sounds.

I borrowed this little book from the boyfriend's mum, and if ever there was a tool conceived to lure the many bacon fetishists away from their favorite foodstuff, it might be this. The thin volume includes a guide to purchasing the bacon, curing methods, history and appropriate accompaniments, followed of course by the recipes. "Not just bacon & eggs!" boasts the back cover proudly, and proud it should be as stuffed into a mere 70 pages are recipes that fit into the following categories - Breakfast, Lunch, Tea Time, Supper, Party Bacon and Outdoor Bacon. Cold Pressed Bacon, anyone? How about Crusty Bacon? No, not in the mood? Strange. Nothing a few Bacon and Pineapple Kebabs won't fix, I wouldn't worry about it.

My Bacon Roly Poly sits in the Lunch section, but check out what happens at Tea Time in the illustrator's house.
'Helloooo there! Got any bacon spare for me and my horse?'

OK, fun is fun, but lets get down to business. For some bizarre reason I couldn't find suet in the supermarket. What, are you trying to say it's not a popular ingredient? Apparently you have to be considerate as to the age of the recipe when buying suet, real ye olde cooks would render their own from a giant hunk of beef fat, but the pellets of ready made stuff you can find in dry form on the shelf has flour added to make it stable so you might need to adjust the amount of flour in the recipe. None of this applies to me because I have to make do with vegetarian suet made from palm oil.
So, cooked bacon mixed with raw onion (which of course was a lot of fun to grate), and a miniscule amount of dried herbs, rolled up in a mixture of flour, water and palm oil pellets.
I didn't have any pudding cloth so used foil to wrap my little baby, and after boiling it looked like this
Now, I'm not the brightest tack, but my general rule is - when food has turned black that's a bad sign. Lets see how accurate the omen was.
Result: Well, what did you think it was going to taste like? Salty
And also, for something that's been boiling for an hour and a half it's surprisingly dry. Maybe I should have used less flour, or real suet, or a better recipe.
I'm going to go ahead and assume that the resoning for putting raw onion as opposed to cooked into the mix is to keep as much of the sharp overpowering taste as possible so that the strong sweetness of the onion can battle with the saltiness (and nothing else) of the bacon in your mouth.
If like me you don't find such sensory assaults pleasant then pile your plate high with vegetables, drown the whole thing in gravy and take a big sip of cider after each bite. Seriously, the more you drink, the better it tastes. I can't explain why, I'm not a scientist, but after 2 litres - right about when pronouncing 'roly poly' becomes a challenge - it be some tasty stuff.
Peace out, blud.

Pastitsada kerkiraiki and maintanosalata me pligouri

Oh my God, what a fricking mouthful. I'm a little perverse, I guess, there are English names for these dishes in the book, but I like the original titles. It makes it harder for people to stumble on to my blog, and I only want hardcore die-hard fans! I signed up to Google Analytics to be able to check how many hits I get a day, and found out that besides refering sites like the amazing Foodie Blogroll, the only other source of traffic I had was people Googling 'klops' and stumbling on my failed attempt at the Jewish classic. Try Googling 'kerkiraiki' and see how far you get, even if you spell it right...
Anyway, in case you couldn't tell, the book I'm using is Vefa's Kitchen (from my birthday trousseau!)
I'm not sure I asked for this for any reason other than to complete my Phaidon cookbook set. The only experience I have with Greek food is blurred drunken memories of the office Christmas party at 'The Real Greek' last year. I occasionaly have a lump of feta in my fridge, and I quite like teramasalata - the end.

Like it's Spanish compatirot, this book provides the recipes in the simplest possible format. Two or three to a page, with a few photographs here and there, both of which elements make it almost impossible to know what the final product is meant to look like. Perfect for a novice!
I decided not to make the pasta, and instead of basil I had fresh thyme, um... and canned tomatoes are just as good as fresh, right?
I'm not really a big fan of beef, it always makes me super bloated, and there is a not in the book to say that Greeks tend to eat veal rahter than beef - good luck finding it, blah blah blah, changer le disque! I'm going to stop bitching about stuff, I'm a little older - SERENITY NOW!
Grating the onion was no fun, and it's a little crazy to me to put cinnamon in savory dishes, but what do I know.

The bulgur salad was an afterthought, so I don't have a photo of the ingredients. But I'm I'll give you some cradit and assume that everyone knows what, you know, tomatoes and parsley look like. To be honest, I was pretty hungover when I was making this, and the memory of the new camera was kind of messing me about as well. Excuses excuses...
Result: The salad is that little lump in the background, roasted vegetables on the side and the big pile of stuff right at the front is the beef stew. The colour is pretty amazing, and the grated onion melted into the sauce - so good!
You don't really get anything particularly 'Greek' until you try the salad, the parsley and lemon juice are really tangy and refreshing. I would like to make a point of not mentioning the bulgur, but I just can't keep it to myself... so disgusting... well I'll just say it:
I've never really cooked bulgur wheat, I heard it's good for you and all that crap so I bought a bag ages ago, I tried cooking it like porridge, wasn't impressed with the results, decanted it into a pretty glass jar, and forgot abou it at the back of the cupboard.
I now know that you're actually meant to prepare it like cous cous by soaking it in water. So, I put the dusty old bulgur in the bowl, fill it with water and forget about it for 30 minutes. I'll type the next bit slowly because it literally made me stop in my tracks - when I came back to drain it there were a dozen maggots floating on the surface of the water. Ew. I ran out of the kitchen screaming, I don't care how old I am, I'm still a girl! 'It's all protein' said my dad. No way!

Beef Stew with Pata from Corfu
1/4 pint olive oil
1.5 kg lean stewing beef or veal cut into serving pieces
1 large onion, grated
1kg tomatoes, peeled, seeded and chopped
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon sugar
1 small cinnamon stick
2 cloves
1 tablespoon chopped fresh basil
salt and pepper
500g thick tube shaped pasta
grated cheese to garnish

Heat 120ml of the oil in a heavy pan over high heat. Add the meat and cook, stirring frequently, for about 8 minutes, until browned all over. Add the onion, reduce the heat, and cook, stirring occasionally for 5 minutes, until softened. Add the tomatoes, tomato paste, vinegar sugar, cinnamon stick, cloves and basil and season with salt and pepper. Cover and simmer, adding water if necessary, for 1 1/4 - 1 1/2 hours, or until the meat is tender and the sauce is reduced.
(then there are instructions for boiling the pasta too, but I didn't do it)

Parsley and Bulgur Wheat Salad
80g medium bulgur wheat
80g finely chopped fresh parsley
15g finely chopped fresh mint
1 large tomato, peeled, seeded and chopped
4 finely chopped scallions
50ml freshly squeezed lemon juice
3 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper

Put the bulgur wheat into a bowl, pour in 250ml water, and set aside for 30 minutes, then drain off any excess liquid. Transfer the drained bulgur wheat to another bowl and stir in parsley, mint, tomatoes, scallions, and half the lemon juice. Set aside for another 30 minutes. Best the oil with the remaining lemon juice, the salt, and pepper and pour the mixture over the salad.

Update

Hey y'all! What be hippedy-happenin'?
If I seem a little out of it, it's because I've been celebrating the shit out of my birthday this weekend! Oh yeah, I'm a big girl now.
And look at some of the goodies I got,
yeah, you know what I'm talking about. And not to mention the bitchin' camera the boyfriend got me as well!!!!
See you l8r (see how I'm trying to hold on to the remnants of my youth/ immaturity?)

Koori Fish

Hands up everyone who's been singing 'ding dong, the witch is dead', you can all go jump in a lake!

I haven't really been up to much except totally overdosing on 'Masterchef: The Professionals', and once you've sat around for a few hours straight catching up on all the episodes you've missed, everything begins to look so easy. Words like 'emulsion', 'albumen' and 'mirepoix' begin to sound like legitimate nouns, meaning I no longer need to Google them while scratching my head, drooling, and going 'duuuuuh?'. And I am inspired to have a go at some aspik ('Aspik anyone?' Sounds dirty, probably won't make it on to my fantasy dinner party menu...), fennel pollen, smoked butter, and all the other crap nobody has ever heard of. One day *sigh*

And then I wake up, and realise that I still have to have something to eat, today.
We have a whole side of salmon in the fridge, and although it's been decimated by my brother's sushi attempts, there is still enough for a couple of meals.
I was determined to not resort to Sophie Grigson's 'Fish' book again. I don't know why I hate her, I just do. Not enough to throw out the book, because I have to admit to myself, it's pretty useful, but enough to feel a fantastic sense of one-upmanship when I think I've 'outwitted' her somehow. It's my birthday in a couple of days, by the way, so maybe I will finally grow out of having arguments in my head with imaginary friends...

So, this is a half victory really. The recipe I found calls for generic sounding 'fish steaks', I presented this as evidence to the boyfriend that I need a few more books, specifically seafood, and I swear to God, I think he said something like "Use the ones you have, or else I'll take them away and then you won't have ANY!". After I was done ROFLing I started cooking.
I used whole cumin and coriander seeds, smashed up in the pestle and mortar a bit, instead of ground. As I was 'grinding' them I wondered if it was too late to ask for a new coffee grinder for my birthday. Sad and pathetic? Yes (especially since they're so cheap, I could pick on up from Argos on my way from work tomorrow) I immediately remembered one Christmas when my mother expectantly tore the paper off a large box and found it full of spatulas and a frying pan. She shot us the dirtiest looks while we were opening our hoverboards or Tamagotchis or whatever it is the young people like.
Anyway, remember the apocalyptic scene I was afraid of when I was deep frying the Coxinhas Encantadas? I said that every time I deep fry something I expect to be burned or mutilated in some freak accident. Well, despite the precautions a paranoid imagination affords you, I was entirely unprepared for what happened next. After cooking the powdered spices for a few minutes I started throwing the rest of the ingredients in and the fucking chilli exploded! My face and arms were covered with beads of um... you know, very hot oil - hardcore!
Of course, in retrospect I realised that most people would prick the pepper to let steam escape, but I guess the authors didn't feel like mentioning that in the recipe, bunch of sadists. Girls are the worst.
Anyway, apart from that little bit of excitement, the rest of the preparation went smoothly.
Result: Really good. I never really make Indian curries, I'm much more comfortable in the Thai subset, so this might very well go into my repertoir. The salmon kept all of it's fishy taste and was still moist and juicy, but after a bite or two you could taste the warmth of the chilli. Keeping it whole releases a very mild flavour (that I'm still not sure was worth the maiming I got!).
Try it if you dare.

Tiramisu with Prunes and Lime Curd

So I spend a lot of time reading other people's food blogs (but definitely never at work, Annie!), and a real shame is that I've set myself such strict parameters as to where I get the recipes for my own blog from, that I don't necessarily give myself the opportunity to try all the yummy looking things others have come up with. So when I saw this book, "There's a Mouse in the Soup... Recipes and Stories from Culinary Blogs" I wanted it BAD.

Reader, I fell off the wagon. The goddamn airplane has crashed into the mountain and I ended up buying 5 books in total. Luckily for me (Oh my God, Schadenfreude, I going to hell), the bookshop was going out of business, so they were practically giving everything away.

I got my Karmic ass kick later in the afternoon. Remember all the trouble I had finding Orange Blossom Water for my last dessert? Well when I went shopping for ingredients I discovered that the gigantic Sainsbury's near the boyfriend's house runneth over with the stuff, in much larger bottles for an eighth of the price I paid. Humbug.

Anyway, this recipe is from a French blog: http://lacuillerenbois.canalblog.com. It's still up, but obviously all in French.

I don't know why I chose this dish. I don't like prunes, I don't know anyone who likes prunes, and I don't want to know anyone who likes prunes! The boyfriend and his mum claim to enjoy them but they're both lying.

I didn't have enough limes, so used a couple of tangerines as well. Also, in view of the incredible amount of sugar in this recipe I substituted the sugar cane syrup for honey so that, you know, once all my teeth fall out from eating the first three layers, the honey soaked into the pancakes at the bottom will soothe and alleviate my bloody gums. God, what an imagination I have, I always prepare myself mentally for the worst case scenario. For example, the top layer has two raw eggs in it, will we all get salmonella? What if we don't eat it fast enough, how long will it keep in the fridge? Like if I go out for dinner with some girls from work tomorrow or something, and then get home really late, and I'm not really hungry anymore, and then the next day someone comes over and I tell them to help themselves to whatever in the fridge and they accidentally eat some and get REALLY SICK! Do I want to be responsible for something like that?

I wanted to make half the amount, in case it's really disgusting, but ended up doing the quantity given in the recipe due to the boyfriend's twisted, perverted supplications.
Result: This 'tiramisu' is missing the two things I most enjoy, coffee and alcohol, so I assumed it would turn out like some bastardized trifle. How wrong I was. You can really taste the tea that the prunes are soaked and cooked in, and the horrible strong taste that I dislike so much in the prunes themselves melts into something that almost resembles damson gin. Me and the boyfriend were standing over the pan, waiting for it to cool, and sneaking spoonfuls of the mixture like a couple of dorks. So, you know, I've been cured of my prune antithesis. The recipe suggests adding sugar to the prunes to taste, but it wasn't necessary.
The problem came when everything is put together, it's too fricking sweet. The top layer is the worst, all you can taste is raw egg and sugar. You know Mascapone on it's own would have been fine, it's almost as though the original recipe has been changed for the sake of change.
So that's it, my foray into the world of desserts is over. I'm still convinced that I'm not missing much. Next time - meat!

Muhallabia

So last time we had Crapaud, and today it's Muhallabia. Stop giggling in the back there children! When you can compose yourselves, we'll carry on...

Ok, so like I've mentioned before I don't really like dessert, and I don't drink cow's milk, um... and I'm not that jazzed about nuts. And sugar is bad for you. So will this big gelatinous boob convince me to change my ways?

Initially all signs point to no. What the hell is Orange Blossom Water? In the back of the book there is a note to say that it can be found in major supermarkets, Middle Eastern and Turkish shops blah blah blah, yeah, maybe in Lebanon. I must have gone to five different stores and it was nowhere to be found, so I kind of put this dish on the back burner, it wasn't meant to be, I made my peace with the infuriating situation. Then a couple of days ago I finally saw a bottle in Planet Organic. They charged me a terrifying, tear-inducing amount for it, but if it's so expensive, it must really be worth it, right?

Maybe, lets see.

The smell of warm milk is really comforting and takes me back to my childhood when I was given some to drink at bedtime if I couldn't sleep. Years later I decided that milk is probably poisonous because of the lactose and stopped drinking it, but now I think it's time to stop the tantrum and get with the program!

I had a little swig of the Orange Blossom Water to see what all the fuss is about, there is almost no taste except maybe a slight bitterness, great, worth the effort.

Result: The bastard didn't set! I left it in the fridge for 24 hours and still didn't dare to try and turn it out. I followed the recipe to the letter, but the problem must be that '1 leaf of gelatine' is pretty vague.

To be fair, I've seen other recipes for this online that call for arrowroot as a thickener and it's served in little bowls and not rolling around on a plate, so I'm not too depressed about what is ultimately my failure!

The taste - I think the best description is that it smells and tastes like perfume. I once heard a story that one time my grandad was so hard up for booze that he drank a bottle of my grandmother's perfume, I don't know if that's true, but after trying this pudding it seems a lot more plausible. The smell of orange blossom and rose is almost overpowering, but if you manage to ignore it, the taste is quite pleasant. I was trying to put my finger on what it could be compared to, and it's just like custard. If it was warm and you had a thing against eggs, this could be your bag, baby. However, it must be said, that my brother, who's been known to have 4 spoons of sugar in his coffee, found this too sweet. Proceed with caution.

Crapaud

I disobeyed the master's wishes, and bought a new book.
This little treasure was £2.50 in the Red Cross bookshop, and if I wasn't so tired I would come up with a clever joke about how red and cross it made the boyfriend, but you can just use your imagination.
The cover is a bit confusing to me, but maybe that's just because I've never been to the Caribbean. I mean, all you lucky dogs who summer there must instantly think 'Jamaica!' when you see a bunch of parsley. Or 'Barbados!' when a half peeled orange rolls toward you. Of all the cookbooks I buy, my favorite ones tend to be the specific county cuisines. I know I'll probably never go to these places, so at least I can try to recreate the flavour at home... with a nice bunch of parsley.
In all seriousness, I bought this book because there is a recipe for frogs legs in it. I still had a half a kilo in the freezer from my previous effort, and was tentatively on the lookout for something different. They could have given it a better name than Crapaud though.
I looked everywhere for ground cloves, but obviously there's no such thing. Our coffee grinder went gently into that good night a while ago and I haven't gotten around to replacing it, so crappy pestle and mortar take the stage. Reminding myself how much I hate cloves doen't make the process in any way satisfying, and when that's followed by grating the onion I feel really hard done by.
I let the concoction sit and think about what it's done in the corner for an hour, and then flour and fry. Unlike chicken, or whatever, frog never quite aquires that golden hue. If anything, it just goes paler the longer if fries. Very attractive.
Result: Quite nice. A little like wings, but more chewy, with a pretty mild taste. It would have benifited from a bit more salt, maybe, and you can't really taste the cloves (yes!). The main flavour is onion, and lime juice once you add some. I fried up some little lumps of onion from the marinade and it all goes together and everything. Yeah, I would give it a medium score.
So, I'm glad I tried it and would have it again, but lets not get carried away by the excitement of the thing, yeah? You're eating frogs