Getting behind again. There is a fair amount to catch up on...
Mrs Jiffler returned from Lincolnshire with sausages and pin wheels as requested. A wedge of Lincolnshire poacher comes smoked, giving it a more brittle texture which lends itself to jiffling hands breaking off chunks for a nibble everytime the fridge door is opened.
We both head up to Wales at the weekend to visit my folks. My Dad has prepared a fish pie for us, with the last of the peas from the garden. This is about as close to food heaven as Mrs Jiffler can imagine - the concept of fish, in a pie form, with peas turns Mrs Jiffler's eyes into saucers.
Dad has sneaked some mussels into the pie which add a bit of colour and make things a bit more special. I note that he has been more generous than usual with the parsley after my previous feedback. Good. A bottle of bubbly is opened to celebrate Mrs Jiffler's new job in Senegal, and we start to unwind after the long car journey.
On Saturday we head to a food and craft fair on a country estate near the menai straits. Sadly it was a bit underwhelming, with only a few stalls. We still escape with bara brith, mango chutney, some jam, and a few Welsh cakes to share. Heading off to Betws y Coed we scoff trays of hot, salty chips standing in the cold by the river.
Its been a few years since I last visited the Bull in Beaumaris for a meal in the Bistro. Its probably Anglesey's finest eatery (there is a flash restaurant above) and I'm hoping that standards are still high.
A few specials tempt us, and I go for local mussels in cider. Mrs Jiffler opts for a bizarre but delicious potato salad tower thing, Mum and Dad play safe with good portions of smoked salmon and chicken livers respectively (although Dad pinches a couple of mussels from my bowl).
Dad and I both opt for the belly pork main - this is a serious and even piece of meat, with crackling just right. Our portion is fist sized and comes floating on smooth mash. Mrs Jiffler attempts the Turbot special, which comes pan fried, skin side up, and thoroughly healthy looking, while my mother provokes jealousy around the table with her enormous portion of lamb with a rustic Italian
style red wine and bean sauce. we all steal some of her chips in revenge,
Shared ice creams and another round of drinks bring the night to a close. Stilll the best on the Island.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
A pheasant surprise…
I’m sorry, that’s a dreadful pun, but I couldn’t resist.
The butcher has come up trumps with a pheasant – A reasonably sized hen sets me back four quid – a little pricey, but I do live down south these days.
These birds can dry up pretty quickly in the oven, so I wrap some streaky bacon over the breast and stuff a knob of butter, a shallot and grated lemon zest into the cavity. Into the oven at 200C for 45mins to and hour… ish. This oven is still a bit cheeky. Off with the bacon for the last 15 minutes to brown the breast a bit.
Mrs Jiffler and I tuck into the breast and body meat with some mashed butternut squash and potato (with the crispy streaky snipped up and stirred into the mash). The pan juices make good gravy with a slosh of Rioja.
The whole lot disappears pretty quickly, and I feel like lighting a cigar and having a nip of brandy afterwards. A good game supper has that effect.
There are two meaty legs leftover for some home made ravioli sometime soon, and the carcass for a stock. The home-made ravioli might be a serious undertaking with a lot of swearing… lets see.
Mrs Jiffler is off again, to see family at home in Lincolnshire. I’m a bit unhappy to see her go away again for a few days, but I’m promised the usual batch of Lincolnshire food goodies - Sausage, stuffed chine, haslet, and with a bit of luck a block of Lincolnshire poacher for an autumn salad – when she returns.
The butcher has come up trumps with a pheasant – A reasonably sized hen sets me back four quid – a little pricey, but I do live down south these days.
These birds can dry up pretty quickly in the oven, so I wrap some streaky bacon over the breast and stuff a knob of butter, a shallot and grated lemon zest into the cavity. Into the oven at 200C for 45mins to and hour… ish. This oven is still a bit cheeky. Off with the bacon for the last 15 minutes to brown the breast a bit.
Mrs Jiffler and I tuck into the breast and body meat with some mashed butternut squash and potato (with the crispy streaky snipped up and stirred into the mash). The pan juices make good gravy with a slosh of Rioja.
The whole lot disappears pretty quickly, and I feel like lighting a cigar and having a nip of brandy afterwards. A good game supper has that effect.
There are two meaty legs leftover for some home made ravioli sometime soon, and the carcass for a stock. The home-made ravioli might be a serious undertaking with a lot of swearing… lets see.
Mrs Jiffler is off again, to see family at home in Lincolnshire. I’m a bit unhappy to see her go away again for a few days, but I’m promised the usual batch of Lincolnshire food goodies - Sausage, stuffed chine, haslet, and with a bit of luck a block of Lincolnshire poacher for an autumn salad – when she returns.
Pumpkin Soup
Pumpkins are cheap at the moment, for obvious reasons. Mrs Jiffler has returned from Rwanda and was expecting a friend to visit for the afternoon while I was at work. I thought I’d rustle up some pumpkin soup the night before so they could spend less time making lunch and more time catching up. It went down a treat apparently.
Pumpkin and Red Pepper Soup
Ingredients:
One pumpkin – not one of the monster ones, something that you can hold in one hand will do.
About a litre of chicken stock (good stuff, from the weekend roast, will make all the difference here)
A small red pepper, chopped
A medium sized red onion
1 small red chilli
Butter or olive oil
A juicy clove of garlic
A generous amount of single cream
A handful of fresh coriander
Large teaspoon of ground cumin
Salt and pepper
Chop the onion and gently fry with the garlic and chilli in butter in a heavy bottomed pan until the onion starts to go soft and sweet. Meanwhile, peel, de-seed and chop the pumpkin into cubes. Fry the pumpkin cubes and chopped pepper in with the onions and garlic until they start to change colour to a deeper amber colour. Stir in the cumin and cook for a few seconds. Pour in the chicken stock and leave to chunter away gently until the pumpkin is soft (about 20-25 minutes). Add the chopped coriander and cook for a minute more.
Take the soup off the heat and pout into a blender. Make sure there is an outlet in the top of the blender as the steam will shoot out as you blend. Blend to the desired consistency – I went for smooth, but a few lumps here and there is a bit more rustic.
(You can keep the soup for a day or so in the fridge, or freeze at this point)
Pour the mixture back into the pan and stir in a generous amount of single cream. Heat, season, and serve hot on a cold day.
Serving ideas:
Mrs Jiffler sliced some chorizo very thinly and fried until crispy, then stirred it into the soup – she reckons this is marvellous. You could also grate in a bit of parmesan if you fancy. This soup would go nicely with a ciabatta style bread, or better still, some fresh sourdough.
Pumpkin and Red Pepper Soup
Ingredients:
One pumpkin – not one of the monster ones, something that you can hold in one hand will do.
About a litre of chicken stock (good stuff, from the weekend roast, will make all the difference here)
A small red pepper, chopped
A medium sized red onion
1 small red chilli
Butter or olive oil
A juicy clove of garlic
A generous amount of single cream
A handful of fresh coriander
Large teaspoon of ground cumin
Salt and pepper
Chop the onion and gently fry with the garlic and chilli in butter in a heavy bottomed pan until the onion starts to go soft and sweet. Meanwhile, peel, de-seed and chop the pumpkin into cubes. Fry the pumpkin cubes and chopped pepper in with the onions and garlic until they start to change colour to a deeper amber colour. Stir in the cumin and cook for a few seconds. Pour in the chicken stock and leave to chunter away gently until the pumpkin is soft (about 20-25 minutes). Add the chopped coriander and cook for a minute more.
Take the soup off the heat and pout into a blender. Make sure there is an outlet in the top of the blender as the steam will shoot out as you blend. Blend to the desired consistency – I went for smooth, but a few lumps here and there is a bit more rustic.
(You can keep the soup for a day or so in the fridge, or freeze at this point)
Pour the mixture back into the pan and stir in a generous amount of single cream. Heat, season, and serve hot on a cold day.
Serving ideas:
Mrs Jiffler sliced some chorizo very thinly and fried until crispy, then stirred it into the soup – she reckons this is marvellous. You could also grate in a bit of parmesan if you fancy. This soup would go nicely with a ciabatta style bread, or better still, some fresh sourdough.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
October 31st
Locatelli’s column in the Guardian (fast becoming my favourite bit of the Saturday paper) is talking pheasant ravioli. I tear out the column and wonder where I can get hold of a pheasant.
During my lunch hour I stroll down to Adeyfield and pop into Nelson’s butchers. Sadly, its the only independent butchers in Hemel Hempstead, and does its best to be a cut above the supermarkets. People must just get on the Tescos conveyor belt in this town and accept what they’re given, which is sad as there is plenty of money about. Anyhow, I wonder in and ask the chief if he can get hold of a pheasant for me – and I swear the guy looks proud! He looks like he’s been vindicated, by a young(ish) bloke walking in and doing what would be unthinkable in Tescos – ordering some decent meat. We arrange for a hen for me to pick up on Friday, and he promises to ring if there is a problem.
On the way out I spot some minted lamb shanks, a decent size, at £3.50 a pop. I hesitate for a minute, as it’s a bit much for a Tuesday night dinner… but there will be some left for a butty tomorrow… and I can keep the bone for a stock (I have a collection of lamb bones in my freezer, Mrs Jiffler will no doubt throttle me for using up valuable ice cream space when she gets back from Rwanda)… there is a fiver in my pocket…
It goes in the oven for a slow roast with a couple of shallots and glug-glug-glug og marsala. 160 degrees, covered for 45 mins then uncovered for 45 more. It comes out nicely cooked, perhaps slightly overdone (the oven has a vicious edge), but the gravy looks a bit too black. I try dipping some sweet potato mash in and the gravy is burnt, so goes straight down the sink. A partial success though as the shank is juicy, and the mash gets an extra knob of butter to loosen things up. Not much in the way of leftovers for a sandwich tomorrow though…
During my lunch hour I stroll down to Adeyfield and pop into Nelson’s butchers. Sadly, its the only independent butchers in Hemel Hempstead, and does its best to be a cut above the supermarkets. People must just get on the Tescos conveyor belt in this town and accept what they’re given, which is sad as there is plenty of money about. Anyhow, I wonder in and ask the chief if he can get hold of a pheasant for me – and I swear the guy looks proud! He looks like he’s been vindicated, by a young(ish) bloke walking in and doing what would be unthinkable in Tescos – ordering some decent meat. We arrange for a hen for me to pick up on Friday, and he promises to ring if there is a problem.
On the way out I spot some minted lamb shanks, a decent size, at £3.50 a pop. I hesitate for a minute, as it’s a bit much for a Tuesday night dinner… but there will be some left for a butty tomorrow… and I can keep the bone for a stock (I have a collection of lamb bones in my freezer, Mrs Jiffler will no doubt throttle me for using up valuable ice cream space when she gets back from Rwanda)… there is a fiver in my pocket…
It goes in the oven for a slow roast with a couple of shallots and glug-glug-glug og marsala. 160 degrees, covered for 45 mins then uncovered for 45 more. It comes out nicely cooked, perhaps slightly overdone (the oven has a vicious edge), but the gravy looks a bit too black. I try dipping some sweet potato mash in and the gravy is burnt, so goes straight down the sink. A partial success though as the shank is juicy, and the mash gets an extra knob of butter to loosen things up. Not much in the way of leftovers for a sandwich tomorrow though…
Weekend in Manchester?
This weekends nutrition has mainly come from alcoholic drinks. Two small highlights were my friend’s chocolate, pecan and banana cake (H – the recipe?), and a meal at the revamped ‘Koffee Pot’ in the Northern Quarter in Manchester. Formerly a greasy spoon frequented by down and outs, the arrival of a funky hostel in the building above has brought new custom and a revamp. Its now a funky, slightly rock and roll, enterprise in only the way that little businesses in Manchester can be. There Sunday breakfast is a treat, with quality sausages, bury black pudding and a decent brew. My friend L has smoked haddock rarebit, which comes served on crumpets and looks pretty cute. I might try that at home sometime when Mrs Jiffler is not expecting it.
Apart from that its party food and a bite on the go. Oh, I popped into Wing-Fat in Chinatown for a big pack of my favourite fresh udon noodles. They have razor shell clams again, but they look a bit manky. That means they must be on the beaches again in the North West. I’ll ask Dad to keep an eye out…
Apart from that its party food and a bite on the go. Oh, I popped into Wing-Fat in Chinatown for a big pack of my favourite fresh udon noodles. They have razor shell clams again, but they look a bit manky. That means they must be on the beaches again in the North West. I’ll ask Dad to keep an eye out…
The Greek
The originally named ‘The Greek’ restaurant has opened up down the road, so a few of us from work trundle down for a look see. Expectations are medium, and we go for mixed meze to put things to the test.
Our cold meze are a generally up to scratch. The usual taramasalata and houmous comes out, with some interesting potato salads and beans. The waiter takes us through the dishes carefully even telling us that the taramasalata is made from cod’s roe (rather than the smoked roe of grey mullet as you get in Greece, but its that fish in Hemel issue vs snobbish jiffler thing again…).
Fried whitebait gets everyone smiling and pretending not to be greedy, although the accompanying calamari has been in the pan for a bit long and is chewy. The plates are cleared and a few dishes of Greek salad appear - a bit light on spring onions, and with the seeds still in the cucumbers which is a major faux-pas as far as I’m concerned. The others look fairly happy with it though, especially when a huge plate of meat and grilled halloumi appears and almost gets a round of applause. A plate of kleftico is melting off the bone and thankfully spend most of the time at my end of the table. Accompanying roast potatoes are a bit weird, like they were pre-frozen, but the assorted gammon, lamb, chicken and sausages are a pleasure. We ask for the leftovers to be wrapped in foil so I can drop them round at my neighbour’s later.
Coffee is the genuine deal and comes with decent Turkish delight, rounding of a satisfying meal and providing enough sugary energy to get me rolling up the hill home. One of the most enjoyable evenings out I’ve had in a good while – with great company as well as food – was completed by busting a senior colleague and junior (although recently promoted) colleague enjoying an illicit liaison in a pub in the Old Town… we laughed all the way home.
Our cold meze are a generally up to scratch. The usual taramasalata and houmous comes out, with some interesting potato salads and beans. The waiter takes us through the dishes carefully even telling us that the taramasalata is made from cod’s roe (rather than the smoked roe of grey mullet as you get in Greece, but its that fish in Hemel issue vs snobbish jiffler thing again…).
Fried whitebait gets everyone smiling and pretending not to be greedy, although the accompanying calamari has been in the pan for a bit long and is chewy. The plates are cleared and a few dishes of Greek salad appear - a bit light on spring onions, and with the seeds still in the cucumbers which is a major faux-pas as far as I’m concerned. The others look fairly happy with it though, especially when a huge plate of meat and grilled halloumi appears and almost gets a round of applause. A plate of kleftico is melting off the bone and thankfully spend most of the time at my end of the table. Accompanying roast potatoes are a bit weird, like they were pre-frozen, but the assorted gammon, lamb, chicken and sausages are a pleasure. We ask for the leftovers to be wrapped in foil so I can drop them round at my neighbour’s later.
Coffee is the genuine deal and comes with decent Turkish delight, rounding of a satisfying meal and providing enough sugary energy to get me rolling up the hill home. One of the most enjoyable evenings out I’ve had in a good while – with great company as well as food – was completed by busting a senior colleague and junior (although recently promoted) colleague enjoying an illicit liaison in a pub in the Old Town… we laughed all the way home.
Hemel Hempstead foodie paradise!
Well not quite. You still can’t buy decent fish anywhere in town. However I’ve just found an independent supermarket called ‘Hemel Food Stores’. I went in there a few years ago after it opened on the site of an old Sainsbury’s in town. It was pretty low quality stuff back then – tins and packets and cheap pop – but I went for a return visit on the recommendation of a exotic food loving colleague.
Lemon grass, fresh dill, papaya and bora (!) all within the first aisle got my heart beating – after the last year or so of Chinatown and asian veg on my doorstep I was back in business. What’s more the place caters for the Greek, Turkish, Asian, and Polish communities – who are shopping in force at this place.
I escape with bundles of fresh herbs (sans supermarket style plastic boxes and absurd prices), lemon grass, preserved chilli-stuffed with sheeps cheese, tins of stuffed vine leaves, tahini paste, giant beans in sauce,an enormous plastic jar of lime pickle, kalamata olives, and even a tin of stuffed red peppers (I’m nervous about opening these as they are almost guaranteed to be vile). Makes Hemel more bearable after all my whinging.
Lemon grass, fresh dill, papaya and bora (!) all within the first aisle got my heart beating – after the last year or so of Chinatown and asian veg on my doorstep I was back in business. What’s more the place caters for the Greek, Turkish, Asian, and Polish communities – who are shopping in force at this place.
I escape with bundles of fresh herbs (sans supermarket style plastic boxes and absurd prices), lemon grass, preserved chilli-stuffed with sheeps cheese, tins of stuffed vine leaves, tahini paste, giant beans in sauce,an enormous plastic jar of lime pickle, kalamata olives, and even a tin of stuffed red peppers (I’m nervous about opening these as they are almost guaranteed to be vile). Makes Hemel more bearable after all my whinging.
Hemel Hempstead foodie paradise!
Well not quite. You still can’t buy decent fish anywhere in town. However I’ve just found an independent supermarket called ‘Hemel Food Stores’. I went in there a few years ago after it opened on the site of an old Sainsbury’s in town. It was pretty low quality stuff back then – tins and packets and cheap pop – but I went for a return visit on the recommendation of a exotic food loving colleague.
Lemon grass, fresh dill, papaya and bora (!) all within the first aisle got my heart beating – after the last year or so of Chinatown and asian veg on my doorstep I was back in business. What’s more the place caters for the Greek, Turkish, Asian, and Polish communities – who are shopping in force at this place.
I escape with bundles of fresh herbs (sans supermarket style plastic boxes and absurd prices), lemon grass, preserved chilli-stuffed with sheeps cheese, tins of stuffed vine leaves, tahini paste, giant beans in sauce,an enormous plastic jar of lime pickle, kalamata olives, and even a tin of stuffed red peppers (I’m nervous about opening these as they are almost guaranteed to be vile). Makes Hemel more bearable after all my whinging.
Lemon grass, fresh dill, papaya and bora (!) all within the first aisle got my heart beating – after the last year or so of Chinatown and asian veg on my doorstep I was back in business. What’s more the place caters for the Greek, Turkish, Asian, and Polish communities – who are shopping in force at this place.
I escape with bundles of fresh herbs (sans supermarket style plastic boxes and absurd prices), lemon grass, preserved chilli-stuffed with sheeps cheese, tins of stuffed vine leaves, tahini paste, giant beans in sauce,an enormous plastic jar of lime pickle, kalamata olives, and even a tin of stuffed red peppers (I’m nervous about opening these as they are almost guaranteed to be vile). Makes Hemel more bearable after all my whinging.
On the move
Getting into the swing of the new kitchen now. I’m still gathering store cupboard essentials together and so on, but I’ve had a few satisfying meals this week. OK, they’re old standards (Sausage and Mash, Roast Chicken, Tom Yam Gai, and a variation of Mrs Jiffler’s risotto) but I’m just getting used to the oven. I’m not sure what the weekend brings food-wise as there aren’t any plans to go out (although a new greek restaurant has just opened down the road). I might make a special trip to the butchers near work, and stop by the market on Saturday – I could do with some new recipe action…
A few years ago I had a job for the European Commission that involved a lot of travelling about the UK, Ireland, and occasionally continental Europe. All the early starts and long journeys by train and plane did my head in after a bit, especially as the food on offer in these circumstances is never as good as it should be. An endless round of flatulence-inducing buffet lunches, teatime sandwiches in airport departure lounges, and early morning coffees on train platforms were neither nutritious nor satisfying. I put on a fair amount of weight as well.
I seem to be slipping into that familiar trap with this new job as it requires me to spend a fair amount of time out of the office. Thankfully not on planes, but I’ll be doing a fair amount of rail travel over the coming months - multiple visits to London, Cheshire, Lancashire, Warwickshire and Devon are all on the cards between now and Christmas. So far I’ve been reasonably good – there have been one or two packaged sandwiches and expensive train station coffees, but otherwise I’ve been carrying a bit of fruit with me to pick at, and trying to make sure I eat something balanced in the evening instead of just flaking out on the sofa and shovelling whatever I can find in the fridge into my mouth.
I got thinking how there are plenty of people around who are living this sort of lifestyle – tiring train journeys, low quality, fatty food on the go, and no time or energy to cook when they get home. Looking around on the train there are dozens of them, clutching laptops and wearing dark circles under their eyes. There is definitely a market for a self-help book along the lines ‘how work on the go and still eat well’. I might give it a crack (when I can find time between changing trains at Watford maybe?).
A few years ago I had a job for the European Commission that involved a lot of travelling about the UK, Ireland, and occasionally continental Europe. All the early starts and long journeys by train and plane did my head in after a bit, especially as the food on offer in these circumstances is never as good as it should be. An endless round of flatulence-inducing buffet lunches, teatime sandwiches in airport departure lounges, and early morning coffees on train platforms were neither nutritious nor satisfying. I put on a fair amount of weight as well.
I seem to be slipping into that familiar trap with this new job as it requires me to spend a fair amount of time out of the office. Thankfully not on planes, but I’ll be doing a fair amount of rail travel over the coming months - multiple visits to London, Cheshire, Lancashire, Warwickshire and Devon are all on the cards between now and Christmas. So far I’ve been reasonably good – there have been one or two packaged sandwiches and expensive train station coffees, but otherwise I’ve been carrying a bit of fruit with me to pick at, and trying to make sure I eat something balanced in the evening instead of just flaking out on the sofa and shovelling whatever I can find in the fridge into my mouth.
I got thinking how there are plenty of people around who are living this sort of lifestyle – tiring train journeys, low quality, fatty food on the go, and no time or energy to cook when they get home. Looking around on the train there are dozens of them, clutching laptops and wearing dark circles under their eyes. There is definitely a market for a self-help book along the lines ‘how work on the go and still eat well’. I might give it a crack (when I can find time between changing trains at Watford maybe?).
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