sunday roast

With it being a Sunday I thought I would dedicate this post to the Great British Sunday Roast. Indulging in this traditional feast is one of my all-time favourite pastimes. Wake up late on a Sunday (if my body clock will allow), make a pot of tea, pop out for a Sunday paper and stroll down the road for a roast. It's good to avoid driving anywhere if possible - the walk back does wonders for the post-roast bloat.

So a couple of Sundays ago I was relishing the day ahead, having arranged to meet up with some friends at The Social, a new-ish bar on Gloucester Road. Having spent the night before there trying out their drinks menu we decided to give the food menu a try too. Now it's always a risk trying out somewhere new. I am usually a stickler for sticking to what you know or, better still, cooking one yourself. But every now and then its good to branch out, with the aim of widening the available 'good roast' options on a Sunday. So let’s cut to the chase. This was possibly THE worst roast I have ever had the displeasure to eat. We arrived, we ordered (chicken for me, beef for most of the others), we sat down and we waited with anticipation and hunger. Our food arrived not long after and it was plain to see that this was not going to be the gourmet treat we had been hoping for. We stayed positive and tried hard to praise the plate of food that lay in front of us. But it didn’t take long before the criticisms were flying. I think a simple list is the best way of relaying to you how terrible this food really was:

1. There was very little of everything. Which actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
2. The (unidentifiable) vegetables were boiled to within an inch of their lives and seemed to blend into one another, much like baby food.
3. The roast potatoes were undercooked and the skins were, well, just boring. I want crispy, crunchy bits on my potatoes please. 
4. The Yorkshire pudding was solid and kind of crumbled as you cut into it.
5. The chicken was tasteless, limp and pale. The beef looked anaemic. The vegetarian of the group described her nut roast as 'sandy'. Delightful.
6. I have saved the worst until last. The gravy. It was like no gravy I have ever seen. In fact it resembled less gravy, more the water that is left in the greasy pan after you have soaked it overnight, boiled up nice and hot. And that was poured all over our plates. We had (before seeing any of our food I hasten to add) requested more gravy, and here is what that extra portion looked like. I think the photo says it all.

Yes, those are globules of grease floating on the top. Needless to say we left hugely dissatisfied and still hungry. To the point where I went home and made myself spaghetti hoops and cheese on toast, which was tastier and didn’t cost me the best part of a tenner.

But the interesting thing is what happened when the waitress came over to clear our plates and ask if everything was ok. We all sat there, grinning through gritted teeth and nodding. There were definite mumbles of “it was great, thanks.” We talked about complaining, we certainly knew we should complain. Not in an aggressive, I-demand-my-money-back-or-else kind of way, but in a 'constructive', please-don't-ever-inflict-that-gravy-on-any-other-customer-ever-again kind of way. But was anybody 'brave' enough to say anything? Nope. Actually, I tell a lie, one of us did finally pluck up the courage to (politely) tell the chef what we really though of our meal. But the rest of us made sure that we were out of the door and halfway up the street before she did it. The Sunday Roast is one of Britain’s greatest traditions. Our inability to complain is not. 

pancake day

My boyfriend cooked me and my housemates some delicious pancakes. Lemon and sugar - classic.

dinner party

Last weekend I took on my biggest foodie challenge to date: a dinner party for 12. Now 26, I'm at the age where past dinner parties have mostly consisted of friends balancing plates of noodles on their laps. No meat, because that was far too expensive. It came to me recently that I wanted to host my first ever grown-up dinner party. Sounds rather pathetic written down, but that was my wish. Along with my housemates, I finalised a date and the lists began. Lists of who to invite, lists of possible courses, lists of ingredients, lists of things to borrow. After all of the lists, I woke up on Saturday feeling like a kid at Christmas, eagerly anticipating the mammoth task that lay ahead. I was organised to the point of considering drawing up a few spreadsheets (don't worry, I didn't). My timings were precise and the kitchen was spotless. Actually choosing what to serve turned out to be the most difficult part of the process. But here it is, the complete menu:

STARTER 

Chicken satay skewers with satay sauce

MAIN

Beef bourguinonne and dauphinoise potatoes served with Chantilly carrots and fine green beans

DESSERT

Dark chocolate and salted peanut cheesecake

or

Apple crumble and homemade custard

Cheese and crackers

My main concern for the evening was that I would spend the entire time in the kitchen, literally sweating over a hot stove, steadily drinking myself into a stupor with the leftover red wine. But I can safely say it was one of my favourite days / nights of 2011 so far. Sure, it wasn't plain sailing from start to finish. Two of our guests brought their own chairs to the party and we had to borrow plates from the pub across the road. There was a slight glitch when everyone had arrived and I counted 12 bodies in the room. I'm not sure how but, after all of my preparation, I had planned and cooked for just 11. I quickly rearranged a few pieces of marinated chicken and crossed my fingers that there would be enough carrots to feed everyone. Each guest arrived with a cheese of their choice which made for the most impressive cheeseboard to finish off the meal perfectly. I won't bore you with every little detail though. Here are some photos instead.  



a double (boiler) delight

This is my brand new slash very old kitchen utensil. Call me dull but this excites me to the point that I will write about it on this here blog. Culinary gadgets excite me, full stop. Take me to a cook shop and I will happily spend more time than is necessary (or normal) browsing, seeking out the new inventions that endevour to make our lives hassle-free. Heart-shaped cake tins, pudding steamers, edible glitter spray, jelly moulds, foldaway pans, floral cupcake wrappers and electric jam makers. I would buy it all if I had the money and the space. And I would probably never use most of it.

So, a weekend spent with Ian's family resulted in driving home armed with his nan's old double boiler. Her days of whisking up a condiment or two are over and it has long been sat in a cupboard, collecting dust. I gladly took it off her hands and out of her way. This latest addition to my kitchen will put paid to precariously balancing bowls over saucepans of boiling water to melt only a few squares of chocolate, water splashing in to spoil everything or worse still, the bowl tipping, leaving me with nothing but a burnt-on mess. Or perhaps that's just me. A double boiler is also perfect for making lemon curd - keeping it away from the direct heat prevents the eggs from scrambling - and my kitchen was soon filled with the fresh, citrusy scent of lemon juice and sugar bubbling away on the hob. There are so many different recipes for lemon curd. Some use whole eggs but this one calls for the yolks only. It finished up smooth, silky and thick, just as it should be. This is best spread thickly onto a slice of crusty toast. Or eaten with a spoon, straight out of the jar.

lemon curd
3 lemons
220g caster sugar
3 eggs, separated
100g butter 
1. Grate the zest of all 3 lemons and squeeze the juice from them.
2. Mix the lemon juice, zest, butter and caster sugar together in a double boiler (or if you don't have one, a bowl over a simmering pan of water will do the job!) Bring to a simmer and stir until the butter has melted and all of the sugar has dissolved.
3. Beat together the egg yolks only and then beat these into the lemon juice mix. Keep stirring until the mixture thickens slightly. This should take about 10 minutes.
4. Take off the heat and strain the mixture through a sieve to get rid of the lemon rind.
5. Heat up a jar with boiling water. Pour the lemon curd into the hot jar and seal. The lemon curd will thicken as it cools down. Mmmmm.

cafe kino

Valentine's Day is arguably the most commercial day of the year. I'm pretty sure Saint Valentine would not be standing back proudly if he could see what his day has become; the truly tacky gifts, the exaggerated bouquets, the set Valentine menus that restaurants churn out, hiking the price up an extra 10 percent while they're at it. The true intention of Valentine's Day has surely been lost amongst the gimmicks, only to be replaced by stressed-out couples made to feel guilty if they so much as... gasp!... forget the obligatory 'heartfelt' card.

This is all making me sound very unromantic and against all things sentimental. I can assure you that I am none of the above, I just don't like feeling forced into it. Indeed, myself and my boyfriend exchanged said cards and paid homage to the day by treating ourselves to dinner out. We were careful in our choosing though and settled on recently-relocated Cafe Kino in Stokes Croft, Bristol. No set menus or heart balloons in sight.

Cafe Kino is a vegan, not-for-profit co-operative. It hosts poetry evenings and discussions about feminism which verges on conceitedness but the food and general ambience of the place does a good job of dispelling any notion of this. Don't go to Kino if you are looking for an extensive menu of fancily assembled bite size morsels of flavour fusions. The food here is simple, wholesome and packed with lentils and healthy goodness. I chose the falafels served with a pitta, homemade hummus and a 'kino salad', whilst my boyfriend went for the spicy vegan burger with hand cut chips. Washed down with Organic Westons cider and accompanied by 1920s Ragtime tunes, this was the perfect antidote to a day that revolves around schmaltzy fakery. And all for less than a tenner each. I recommend you try it.

say cheese

I spent last night eating. A lot. My friend Kat invited me over for an evening of wine, gossip and food. Fully aware that Kat does not do dinner parties by halves, I had prepared myself for some full-on feasting. Nibbles kicked the night off, followed by a huge portion of pasta (homemade - very impressive), pudding (a choice of three. I had all three) and cheese. Too full to even speak, the cheese course came accompanied with groans of protest. But it wasn't long before we were tucking into this impressive array. Creamy, hard, blue, smoked, chutney, grapes, bread, crackers.... I woke up this morning with a 'food hangover', still full from the gluttony of the previous evening, yet strangely hungry. It’s true what they say about cheese giving you weird dreams too. Mine involved carrying my parents' talking cat around in a rucksack.

One of the puddings came courtesy of myself. This lemon and polenta cake tastes light and fresh and finishes a meal off nicely. More of a pudding than a teatime cake due to its creamy filling. I gave it a retro twist by decorating it with sugary lemon slices.

lemon and polenta cake
for the cake
3 eggs
110g caster sugar
1 lemon
50g polenta
30g ground almonds
for the filling
300ml double cream
250g lemon curd
Preheat the oven to 180C.
1. Separate the eggs and whisk together the yolks and sugar until pale and creamy.
2. Finely grate the lemon. Add the juice of the lemon to the yolks and sugar a little at a time, whisking continuously until it thickens.
3. Mix the lemon zest, polenta and ground almonds together. Stir this into the mixture.
4. Beat the egg whites until almost stiff and fold them into the mixture.
5. Pour the mixture into a greased and lined 20cm cake tin. Bake for 30 minutes.
6. Once the cake is completely cool, carefully slice it in half horizontally.
7. To make the filling, beat the cream until it is firm and mix in the lemon curd. Cover one half of the cake in the cream, lay the other half on top and use the rest to cover the entire top and sides of the cake. Decorate as you like.

it's a cookie day

Whenever I find myself at a loss as to what to do with my time, baking is often up there at the top of the list (and invariably wins over such activities as hoovering the flat.) On my day off yesterday, I found myself with a spare hour ahead. With this limited amount of time, cookies sprang to mind. These are a great thing to make when you haven't got long and you're not feeling up to sourcing unusual ingredients or tackling complicated techniques. Mix the ingredients, bung in the oven, 10 minutes, done. I'm talking big, fat cookies. The kind that is soft, chewy and best served with a big mug of tea.

This is a recipe from one of my favourite books, The Hummingbird Bakery. There are so many varieties of cookie you could make. I had a tub of peanut butter in the cupboard and some leftover chocolate lying around so it seemed the obvious choice. This recipe calls for 400g of sugar (a mix of brown and white) but it seemed such a huge amount to me so I used 300g of light brown and they are definitely sweet enough. Because this makes 24, I have frozen some of the cookie dough to use on another day.  
peanut butter and chocolate cookies
225g unsalted butter
200g caster sugar
200g soft light brown sugar
2 eggs
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
240g crunchy peanut butter
340g plain flour
2 1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1/2 tsp salt
75g dark chocolate, chopped
 Preheat the oven to 170C.
 1. Cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. You can use an electric hand whisk for this.
2. Add the eggs one at a time, mixing well.
3. Beat in the vanilla extract and the peanut butter.
4. Add the flour, bicarbonate of soda and salt and mix well until a smooth dough is formed.
5. Stir in the chocolate.
6. Arrange balls of the dough on a greased baking tray, making sure that they are well spaced to allow for spreading. I only managed to get about 6 cookies on each baking tray so you will need a few!
7. Bake in the oven for 10 minutes or until golden brown and quite flat.
8. Leave the cookies to cool on the tray slightly before turning out onto a wire cooling rack to cool completely. Or eat them straight from the oven - delicious!