Wednesday 30 May 2012

A pampering fit for a Queen. And an inflatable crown.


Pic from Belinda.

Ma'amite on toast for my Jubilee breakfast?  Not for me thanks

Notice the witty twist on the Marmite there? The label, presumably for a short run is a union flag with the 'Ma'amite' wording.  I quite like that.  Bit of thought going on.  I like it significantly more than I like the sticky brown stuff in the jar.  Concentrated brewers yeast on toast, originally from the Bass Brewery, has never featured on my 'to-do' list.  And I would not have naturally thought of it as a likely Jubilee commemoration product.  But then I've just read about French champagne sold at Gatwick, I think it was, with a gigantic union flag all over the bottle.

Now steady on here; French champagne wrapped in our flag?  Thin end of the wedge. Jumping on a bandwagon I suspect. Stiffly worded email to the relevant embassy required.

I do wonder what Ma'am (pronounced 'mam' so I'm told) is making of all this stuff that's out there?  Mind you, when your face is all over the stamps I guess you get used to Royal merchandising.

I fancy some fancies, personally. The nations baker, Mr Kipling has a boxed set of eight 'Great British Fancies' in a suitably patriotic box.  They taste of nothing whatsoever, but I love them and I have no idea why.  What a Great British Fancy is exactly, I have no idea on that score either.

So if my Jubilee tea is to be extended beyond cake, then as an Englishman, I have to have a sandwich.  And there are actually recipes out there for classic British/English sandwiches.  Now, I didn't realise I needed instructions.  Something out the fridge between a couple of slices usually covers it.  Anyway, I nicked this from Fortnum and Masons website:

Proper sandwiches for tea should be tiny and crustless, and cut into triangles, squares or fingers.
Cucumber: Very thin-cut brown bread spread with well-peppered cream cheese, very thinly sliced cucumber and crusts removed.
Anchovy Relish: Unsalted butter and Fortnum’s Anchovy Relish sprinkled with chopped chives.
Marmite and watercress sandwiches: Use thin-cut brown bread and roll up like a miniature Turkish carpet.

Colnbrook: Shredded boiled beef, mace, butter and shredded pickled cabbage (sauerkraut).

Mace?  Mace...? In a sandwich?
And that damn Marmite again, and how exactly do you roll a sandwich  to look like a miniture Turkish carpet? What does a miniture Turkish carpet look like?  There's no call for them where I am.

Anyway, the P Cheffers have been busy across the land making gigantic trifles in vast bowls and truly spectacular cakes all decorated with 'The Flag'.  Sales of blueberries must be at near record levels. Meanwhile I've been dragged around the shops again trying to source 'novelties' for the weekend.  We have the required bunting and flagged-up cup cake paper cases.

There was one awkward moment when my wife spotted red white and blue hair extentions in Primark.
"Do you think these will look daft...?"

Naturally, I shot her a quick look for signs of irony, but there were none. Realising there was an outside chance she might be serious, I pretended to get a text and moved off.

Aside from fancies, the weekend winner for me is the £5 inflatable pink crown in a shop I can't remember. At last, a jubilee momento that makes sense.  What's not to like about an inflatable crown? And pink at that.

Got to be better than that damned marmite, ma'am.

Wednesday 23 May 2012

Lasagne Wars. Pampered Chef to the rescue, Arnie.

We're gonna teach this lasagne a lesson or two

You wouldn't have thought lasagne trimming would be up there in the league of kitchen challenges. Just goes to show I know nothing.

A not very exciting rectangle of flat pasta.  That's it really, what else do you need to know? Well it's the perfect vehicle for minced beef and a cheese sauce and at that stage in its lifecycle it becomes a damn fine thing to eat.

I like making the finished lasagne and I like eating it ever so slightly more.  But there are issues.  The trays I cook it in are not the same size, whatever the plan, of the pasta sheet.  Which ever tray/dish I use, neither will take the sheets as they are; there are overlaps, gaps and what ever.  Now you'd think the pasta makers and the dish makers would get their heads together and draw up a detailed list of specifications and get some synergy into this.  I could then take out the sheets from the box and lay them like little duvet covers on a bed of beefy yum-ness.  Perhaps I'm over ambitious in this regard.

But at least I'm not the only one with issues. At the moment I just tend to snap off the corners with finger and thumb and make do. Other snapped bits that didn't snap well, fill in the gaps so there's a great deal of bodge and compromise.  But others have more given this more thought than I.

There's been much chatter of late on Her Majesty's facebook about trimming techniques.
My chum Kirsty is no namby-pamby when it comes to dealing with pasta.  Oh no.  This woman gets out the shears.  I've said before about my admiration for shears when it comes to taking out branches and stubborn undergrowth, but pasta?  I need to be careful in my critique here because any woman that resorts to shears for egg-based semolina concoctions isn't going to take nonsense from a dozy half wit bloke like me.

As a side issue, during a mad supermarket dash recently with seconds to spare, all I could see were the not really value, value sheets even below the level of value range.  They clearly had no intention of cooking even after far longer than normal in the oven. I might as well have used roof tiles.  Horrendous.  Anyway...

So...just when I thought we'd reached a level, it turns out others, like Marianne favour the Pampered Chef Japanese-inspired  Santoku knife.  This is one mean piece of (quote) '...finely crafted fully forged, high-carbon German steel for a perfect edge and sharpness, stain and corrosion resistance, and superior strength and durability.'  It also has a lifetime guarantee and a full tang. In case tangs are a new thing for you, it apparently refers to the blade going into the handle.  Hence a full tang means the blade goes right down the length of the handle, aiding balance, strength etc.

I doubt if the original lasagne makers - which were almost certainly Greek and not Italian as we might think (the main theory is that lasagne comes from Greek λάγανον (laganon), a flat sheet of pasta dough cut into strips) would have ever thought such Nato-style weaponry would be required.

Marianne quote: 'Hold the lasagne sheet at a slight angle on the choppingboard, then 'slam' your big santoku at the place where you want it cut.... it snaps in 2 pieces (well most of the time!)'

It's like reading the script from  Arnie's  'Terminator 3: Pasta, The Revenge.'  Warning, contains scenes of extreme violence and appalling language. 'Hasta la Pasta Baby...'

I'm going to look at lasagne preparation in a totally new light now.  Anyway, I'm just going to settle down  and peel an apple for lunch. I'm going to give it a go with my hedgetrimmers.

Monday 21 May 2012

Goggle free onion action thanks to Pampered Chef

Fancy a go with my chopper? (blush)


'Oh I'm definitely having one of  them,' she said, 'I can stop wearing goggles.'

Actually, I think from the description, it was more of a snorkel mask, but anyway. Whatever it was, it wasn't a standard kitchen utensil.

Now, you hear of this kind of thing but I never, honestly, thought it was true; resorting to goggles when chopping onions.  It's just at the far end of being plausible. I need to get the tea on, but before I do, where did the kids put the goggles after the Saturday swimming lesson?

Logically you need the Pampered Chef food chopper but anyway...back to the story.

Reeking of swimming baths you twang a pair of hideously tight goggles over your face, carefully adjusted just last week for an eight year old, which now push your eyeballs out alarmingly.  Disorientated, you now look at the world which seems smaller than it did two minutes ago with not absolutely everything in your vision and do the only sensible thing - grab a really sharp knife.  Undeterred by the fact that the only way you can see anything is to lean backwards at an angle, whilst standing as close to the kitchen bench as possible you now start onion chopping.

I mean, did  you really think this through? Half blind and machete-ing your way through root vegetables?

The goggles, perfect for a belly-flopping eight year old, have now significantly reduced blood supply to the side of your face and breathing is at best only available through your now wide open mouth.  Concentration levels are now at such a peak you've not realised that the tip of your index finger is almost certain to be part of the chilli con carne you're preparing because you failed to notice...

a) the pain in said finger
b) small river of blood
c) the fact that you can see less and less to be fair, because you hadn't accounted for the fact that the goggles would steam up in the warm kitchen.

And yet when the husband carries out his vigorous tree pruning outside you bellow at him, because 'he'll have somone's eye out, with that thing.'

Wrenching off the goggles which have left a perfect goggle-shaped outline around your face skin, you're now aware you've been dribbling ever so slightly from your gaping mouth, partly due to the heightened concentration levels. Looking down at your handiwork, you're surprised, not for the first time time, that you haven't got the finely chopped onion all the TV chefs seem to manage.  Instead you've got wierd big chunks because, of course, everything seemed so much smaller through  steamed up lenses.

Science bit:
1. When you cut the onion root it releases an enzyme.
2. That enzyme reacts in the rest of the onion to release a gas.
3. When that gas combines with water, it creates an acid.
4. If that water is in your eye, you have acid in your eye. That makes you cry.

Several ladies asked for further demonstations of my P Chef chopper at my last cooking show.  And of course, it's always incredibly amusing to ask a bloke if they can use his chopper.  It was over an hour into the demonstration, but they got there in the end. 'Oooh - shall we leave you two to it..?'  (Cue sniggering and discreet blush). Excitment over, they bought armfuls of the thing, I'm pleased to say.

It is extraordinarily efficient, even a slippery morsel of smoked salmon destined for a tartlet gave way to my chopper action (you see, you've got me started now - I'm half expecting Sid James to appear - Carry on Pampering.)

Nuts, mushrooms, cooked meats all succumb to the blades and the dishwasher does the rest.

And the woman featured at the start of this tale can now look forward to less hazzardous veg preparation and less facial disfigurement.



PS.  If your interested in finding out more, just contact me as ever at mikegetscooking@gmail.com and why not join this blog?  You can 'join' the page via a button on the right hand side or follow me at facebook.com/mikegetscooking

Thursday 17 May 2012

Men are useless with dishwashers - official.






Why are men so  totally and utterly useless at using the dishwasher?

I mean, what could be simpler?  You put the stuff in the machine and it washes it. As long as they don't put bits of double gusset angle throcket from the motorbike or the dog in there for a quick rinse, what's to argue about using the thing?

This rose its head again after I suggested in the last post, about the floppy fish finger, that I couldn't manage without a dishwasher under any circumstances.  Two points hadn't crossed my mind.  I didn't realise that dishwasher misuse was such an open sore in the female community and that I wasn't the only one who was told off on a daily basis for my crass ignornace of dishwasher protocol.

After the last post I had several 'Oh God my husband is such a ....' etc and so on.  I'll spare you the detail but fill in the gaps yourself.  To be honest I found it quite liberating on a personal level.  So I'm not the only total...... after all!

Two areas of confrontation.   Why do men think it is actually OK to only empty only half the dishwasher at a time and the direction of cutlery in the cutlery tray.

Typical rebuke in my kitchen is as follows.

"Why have you put the knives pointing down and the forks pointing down again. AGAIN! I mean how many more times!"

"Because the pointy bits are facing down and I won't stab myself."

"But they don't clean properly that way!"

"How does the direction of a stabby bit affect the cleaning of..."

"You just do, that's all!  And you don't put bowls facing that way and how do you expect that to clean when it's balanced on that, I mean...."

(Sigh...wife takes most of dishwasher content out and restacks muttering severely, you won't hear the last of this. Fast forward to later in day)

To precis this, I've just emptied the bottom half of the dishwasher, the big stuff, because we're going out in five minutes, top stuff remains.  Dishwasher spot check.

"Why have you only done half the dishwasher?"

"Because we're going to be late and at least I've got some done", I whine pathetically waiting for the gale force response.

" I can't leave the kitchen in this state...."

"But they're in the dishwasher, the door's closed..." Voice trails away knowing the argument is at best lame and unconvincing.

But at least, I'm not the only one.  I feel so much better now.

I'd go back to rubber gloves but we'd never agree on the colour.  Pink?  Pink?!

-------------
PS Nothing to do with anything on here.  This is a personal message from me, sorry to interrupt but I was just wondering if any dear reader knew of a roomshare in  London/south of England.  Middle son seriously desperate and needs a lucky break. New job, no room. Sods Law. Short term even a floor crash so he can look for a room. I thank you.


Tuesday 15 May 2012

Pampered Chef stoneware saves your fish fingers from unsightly floppiness.


Is there anything more disappointing than a limp fish finger.

Sad, floppy and minus most of its Cap'n Birdseye crumb coating, or Tesco, or ASDA, Aldi or wherever your reshaped and crumbed finger has come from.  Example: fish fingers on a metal tray. Turn after half through the cooking time and watch the underside coating stay exactly where it was, as a now semi-naked fish finger flops over. Heartbreaking.  No, seriously. Admittedly if the fingers are in a sandwich then who's to know the coating content, but you know; there are issues here.

The ice crystals from said finger, melt, form tiny puddles and leave the sodden findger just too heavy on its fragile underbelly. Flip, rip and disappointment.  If only there was an answer, if only they could be cooked on something that took care of the frozen bit.

Over the horizon like helicopters in Apocalypse Now looms...stoneware.  They shun cleansing, refuse to let anything stick to them and can handle almost anything you care to throw at them.  Weapons of Mass Cooking.

A round stone in my house, for example has been used for pizza, potatoes, bacon, sausage, pies, so on and etc. And nothing, absolutely nothing has stuck to it. The only alarming point is the marked colour change of the stone. When you take it out of the box, it has the flawless complexion of Gwyneth  Paltrow.  Mine is now more like Charles Bronson.  I have no idea why but I think of a flattened turtle shell when I look at it.  

Now, I am a strictly low maintenance washer upper. I don't do it if at all possible, is what I'm saying. It was the tradition where I came from and maybe you too - female cooks food, male immerses everything in vast quantities of suds, scrubs violently, leaves slippery pools of water everywhere, mostly on the kitchen floor as a sud-dy mess drips off the draining board, male sleeps noisely in chair, female goes back to kitchen, wipes up mess, making mental note to give male a piece of her mind later, then washes the pots herself, properly this time, returns to male and 'accidently' kicks him on the way to sitting down. Just another Sunday.

Thank the Lord for dishwashers.  If ever there was a piece of kit that I w ould rather not do without it's the dishwasher. Except emptying it, obviously, I'd rather not do that. Pampered  Chef stoneware positively dislikes suds and all things detergent.  In fact, it will have nothing to do with the stuff. No suds, bubbles or anything of the sort.  After a good workout in the oven all it requires is a light shower.  A soak if the sausage fat is particularly diagreeable, but more than often a splash or two of hot water is all it asks for. If it was a human it would probably be a bloke: minimum personal hygiene, in and out of the shower, no shampoo.

I just can't get enough of the stuff.  To prove a point I cracked an egg onto my round stone and baked it in the oven with some other bits.  You rarely if ever need any oil of any sort. Yet even that lost its grip and slid onto a plate. Horrible to eat, naturally, it was like a plastic something you might have bought from a joke shop, but the point was made.

Bin the tin, kids. Stoneware, my friends.  It's the future.

Monday 7 May 2012

Lamb and feta meatballs


And so...the end result of what you heard on the last post...Tasty it was too, thanks for asking.

Lamb and feta meatballs with warm chickpea salad



I do happen to be a fairly serious fan of the humble meatball.  

Just for a change, here's a Pampered Chef- Greek-style version - lamb and feta meatballs witha warm chickpea salad and yogurt with pita bread.  Click on the small arrow on the soundcloud box and have a listen to how it all went...remember you can always make a comment or join the page or join me at http://www.facebook.com/mikegetscooking



Sunday 6 May 2012

Mini apple and blackberry crumbles

A quick peek around the kitchen suggested a couple of mini apple and blackberry crumbles might be in order. No shopping, it's the kind of stuff that's already sitting there. So this is what I did ...

Thursday 3 May 2012

Coffee, white no sugar. Is it too much to ask, Casper?



All I want is a coffee.  Just a cup of coffee.  White, no sugar thanks.

It's amazing how difficult that is to get these days. Whatever happened to the white and no sugar please? Sadly, it's no longer fashionable, that what's happened to it.  Because if there is such a drink in the high street coffee house or department store cafe, it's been forced to have a name change. In some cases the end result has had a good Gok Wok-ing and been turned into something else, but the same. Plain is dull, plain is uncool, plain is...well, plain. Sandwiches are paninis. The white sliced is now ciabatta or rosetta, maggiolino and tartaruga.  Boys can't be called Colin anymore, it's Casper, girls are Mozarella or something or other.

Somewhat parched and mildy delirious after a lengthy shopping bout with my wife I ventured into a well- known high street coffee establishment.  Now that alone is a major shift in English culture that we seem to have quietly accepted, and I have no complaint there, as such.

"Just a coffee please...ordinary coffee..."
"Latte?"
"Just a coffee, thanks"
"Espresso Macchiato?"
" Ermmm...?"
"Iced Caffe Americano"
" Just a...."
Lattecino, Moccaccino, Mokka..."
"...white, no su..."
" Breve, Espresso Romano, Espresso Ristretto, CaffÈ Freddo..."
" Look, all I want is a normal black coffee I can put some milk in and no s...."
" Espresso Con Panna, Cafecito, frappa thingy, wotta-chino, flappa wappa, giddy up a ding dong?"

(Pause)

"Can I have a cup of tea..?"
"Fair trade..?"

I left, still thirsty, sans caffeine and in a thoroughly unpleasant mood which was severely cranked further when my wife said, " Never mind....I just want to to pop into Clarks to see if they've got any shoes for work." 

Pop?  Pop? Name me a woman who has ever popped for shoes.

Next time, I'm taking a flask.

(PS...please feel free to leave a comment or join the site)
(PPS... Yes, the above does sound a little far fetched but honestly, it did happen, in Lincoln, even down to the shoes...ask my wife.  Particularly the shoes bit. Don't get me started.)