Haribo, Chickpeas and the Dagenham Caveman...

They say that necessity is the mother of all invention and to be fair the evidence is pretty compelling.  Take the caveman as an example:

One day our hairy litttle friend decides he's had enough of sashimi, rubs a couple of sticks together and kazzam you have fire.

With a new world of culinary choice open to him though the daily commute for groceries becomes a real hassle - enter stage right... the wheel.

Of course during the Flinstone years the Citizens Advice Bureau wasn't up to full speed and our Neanderthal friend never got his patent application filed.  His ancestors now live in a 2 bed semi in Dagenham.

Skip to the modern age and we are still bending our minds to solve all of life's little problems.  One that I'm usually up against is arriving home to discover I have no food in the fridge.  This has led to the invention of dishes ranging from the sublime to the extreme.  Pasta with Scraps (or 'alla scrap' if I'm entertaining) has always been a favourite and my carrot carbonara was always a big hit at university.

I look at some food combinations and can only assume they were borne of similar scarcity because how else could you explain peanut butter and 'jelly' sandwiches or cottage cheese mixed with chocolate powder and a Haribo garnish (thanks to Sofia for this enigma)...

My latest creative challenge recently took the guise of a few random vegetables and a lonely looking tin of chickpeas at the back of the cupboard.  The first thing that sprang to mind was the Indian dish Chana Massala so it was into the blitzer with a classic combination of garlic, onion and fresh ginger.  Fry this off until fragrant and add stir fried aubergine, courgette and mushrooms then throw in some turmeric, ground coriander, garam massala and chili seeds.  A tin of chickpeas and a tin of tomatoes, bubble it down and it was done !

I love this dish for its clean flavours, kick of spice and the fact that I can actually imagine eating it in a tandoori - there's something quite satisfying about recreating that taste in your own home... 

Trust me this dish is so more-ish the whole pan will disappear before you can say poppadom.
 

Bolognese, Randy Politicians and the Italian Mamma

The question posed at the lunch table today was this: 

"What's the first thing that springs to mind when you think of Italy ?"

The response:

"Ferraris, pizza and a particularly randy septuagenarian Prime Minister." 

Now before anyone takes umbrage to these sweeping generalisations let us not forget that every nation is a victim of certain stereotypes and not all are as endearing as those of Bella Italia.  For me though there is one true characteristic of this wonderful stiletto-esque land mass that transcends all others and that characteristic is passion.

Everything in Italy is accompanied by it.  Watch an Italian describe the weather and you'd be forgiven for thinking that his numbers had just come up on the Euro Millions.  The plosives, the intensity and the way he grabs the air as though he were grabbing your collar with both hands to pull you closer.  I swear if you tied up his hands he'd be mute.

And what of the young Italian lovers who seem to carry the mantle of Romeo & Juliet as they shun all sense of public modesty and swap their masticated chewing gum in front of you on the train ?  The more prudish may balk but they still yearn to experience such thoroughbred abandon.

Anthropomorphically speaking though its all about the nosh.  The image of the Italian Mamma, that ladle wielding matriarch of the homestead, is one that has endured for decades.  The image is in fact so powerful that on a recent trip to Italy I saw a restaurant that had parked their Mamma outside on a chair as if to prove their authenticity.  A clever ruse it was too as they palmed me off with a microwave lasagna.  She was clearly a professional actor.

This week as an homage I've decided to make that most traditional of dishes: Spaghetti Bolognese.  And trust me, I approached the task with no small feeling of trepidation - everyone knows you screw with an Italian's Bolognese at your peril. 

Like chili con carne everyone seems to have a definitive opinion on the cooking method so I have tried to combine all the best parts of the numerous lectures I received and do them justice in one dish.  The result is a really rich, gamey Bolognese that I left to simmer for 3 hours before my hunger could take no more... 

I hope you like it and nota bene: if this is my last post I'm more than likely sleeping with the fishes ;-)

H-Bombs, Tequila and the Legacy of Lemuel Benedict

I'm dying. This could be my last blog.

The symptoms are almost beyond description: mouth feels like week old cat litter, stomach feels like I did a scene in Alien and eyes resemble, to use popular parlance, piss holes in the snow.

Thankfully by the wonders of modern technology I've saved on medical insurance and managed to self-diagnose via Wikipedia but the diagnosis doesn't look pretty. I'm staring down the barrel of either:

I) Ebola;

2) Bubonic Plague; or

3) The half bottle of tequila and 5 Jagermeisters I drank last night.

I'd pick option 1 but given that the most prominent symptom is that I look like I share hairdressers with Helena Bonham Carter its more likely the result of last night's all out renal assault. Damn you Bacchus.

Now from the ancient Chinese philosophy of Yin and Yang right up to the Muller yoghurt TV ads, the theory that all pleasure must be accompanied by pain is fairly well known. Surely though if one thinks they went to bed with Shakira yet actually woke up next to
a cold Biryani then such utter misery is undeserved ?

The gods are indeed cruel.

Now I'm not one for self-pity (yeah right) so its time to enact that age old cure-all used by hangover victims the world over: eat anything it takes to make the pain go away. You know the scenario: walk into the supermarket and emerge an hour later with 27 different items that bear absolutely no relation to each other.

Today though I'm taking a more focused approach - the sniper rifle as opposed to the H-Bomb - today I have the elixir to tame even the wildest withdrawal ... A classic Eggs Benedict. A combination of deliciousness that would have dietitians running for the hills I make mine with smoked Canadian bacon as opposed to ham.

Next time you wake up looking like an extra from 28 Days Later give it a try, it might just save your life.

Damien Hirst, Gilt-Edged Toilets and the Humble Shepherd's Pie

The evolution of perceived luxury is an incredible thing. Once upon a time the height of epicurean extravagance was considered to be the addition of a bidet to you en-suite bathroom or having Egyptian cotton bed sheets.

Nowadays though the bidet has to be encrusted with diamonds à la Hirst whilst our bed sheets must be woven from the wool of an extinct Tibetan sheep by a hand maiden named Rapunzel. Keeping up with the Jones’ is so 1990 – now its all about keeping up with the Al Maktoums.

Now don’t get me wrong I’m no stranger to decadence – last week I even bought a ready meal from Marks & Spencer (its not just food…) but recently there is a trend that has irked even my conception of what is acceptably pretentious: Gold plated food.

I crap you not.

A few days ago I tried out a new restaurant with some friends and after a 6 course tasting menu to underwhelm the appetite of even the skinniest Lilliputian I happened across a dessert that promised to save the day. The description mentioned something about golden pastry and cinnamon apples such that the reminiscence of strudels gone by was too much to resist. Unfortunately what turned up looked more like a Fabergé egg on an off day (with a price tag to match).

Suspecting a security guard might cosh me over the head for even picking up my fork it took me a couple of minutes to muster up the courage to take a bite. But take a bite I did…and impressed I was not. By its very nature the notion of a dessert fondled by Midas is style over substance and goes against everything I love about food – hearty, simple dishes that make your insides want to take you on a spa day to say thank you.

Call me traditional but there is a time and a place for gold. The Crown Jewels yes; your new dentures no. Spanish Doubloons yes; your twice baked cheese soufflé no.

If you happen to be the wife of a Russian oligarch and you like your pudding to match your handbag then this is the stuff for you…if not then this week’s recipe is probably more up your street – quick and simple yet unctuously tasty its time to get your teeth into my traditional English Shepherd's Pie...

P.S. Best eaten with a cold glass of Dom P ;-)

Circus Acts, Superman and the Egg White Omelette...

Performing mice, trapeze artists and a human chandelier. Nope, not another episode of Come Dine with Me, but my weekend at the training camp for the new Cirque de Soleil show in Macau... Technically its not Cirque at all but a company called Dragone - bigger, better, brighter ...and then there's me.

Watching these guys reminds me of watching kung fu movies with my brother when were were kids. You watch enough and suddenly you get to thinking you can do it too. Our mum's antique coffee table never did recover.

This time a few days with the pro's had me convinced I could match them at their own game and they were more than happy to oblige me with a ride on the wires ... See below for your general amusement.

As you might have guessed, lunchtime here is as exciting for me as the performances themselves. These guys are the best in the world at what they do and they need a diet to match.

Every lunchtime sees an Olympian's banquet of fresh fish, steak, salads, freshly baked wholemeal breads, pates and more ... Today I tucked into seared beef with soya sauce and ginger, puy lentils and courgettes, butternut squash with pumpkin seeds and green salad with with beetroot, walnuts and feta. Luckily this was after the bungee or I would have ended up re-decorating.

As it turns out only lunchtime is catered here so for the rest of the day the x-men need to fend for themselves. Some clearly more competently than others. For the more kitchen averse amongst them my dinner recommendation was something fast, high in protein and low in carbs and fat. enter stage right: egg white omelette with grilled chicken. Its the perfect meal for anyone in training or on a diet and you can customise it anyway you like with mushrooms, tomatoes, ham and a simple side salad.

Right, I'm off to work on my triple salco.

Muffin Tops, Colonic Irrigation and The Culinary Resolution

"Muffin Tops", that perennial nemesis of the perfect beach body. The phrase in itself is beautifully descriptive in its depiction of those dimpled, dough-like slabs unfurling over our post-Christmas belts and your average gym operator just loves them. Around 4.5 million people in the UK have a gym membership and when do most of them join ? Yep. January.

For some the battle is lost before its even begun - the thought of being seen in the buff on the way to the showers and the threat of athletes foot (a misnomer to most) is too much; the temptation of the SITC/Entourage boxset too great. For others the will (if not the physical capacity) is there, until one false move on the bench press almost leads to asphyxiation and the embarrassment is just too much to go back.

And so summer comes in all its flesh bearing glory, but the waist line still looks like it could do with 30 minutes in the baker's oven. Its time to get inventive. But as you lie there wrapped in Nepalese seaweed and clingfilm with a vacuum tube lodged in your most holy of holys, you can't help but think what could have been. That's why this week I am shifting the focus to tasty, healthy eating. Training for the summer starts here and it doesn't necessarily mean a gallon of hot water with tree sap and a side order of military boot camp.

Ratatouille was the only way my mum could get me to eat healthy food as a kid - its basically vegetables in disguise and teamed up with Salmon en Papillote (easy as pulling your hamstring) you're already on your way to skinny muffins.

If you like the recipe let me know and if there's something else you're hankering to learn shoot me a message and I'll feature your recipe in one of my next posts.

Chiropractor strictly optional.