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.
Saturday, 27 March 2010
Tuesday, 12 January 2010
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.
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.
Friday, 25 December 2009
Christmas, Osama Bin Laden and the Humble Brussels Sprout
When it comes to totally pointless traditions us Brits have surely cornered the market. Morris Dancing, The Queen and the Christmas Day Brussels Sprout are just a smattering of things that we continually humour with seemingly little thought to their merit.
But that's the point of tradition isn't it ? It doesn't need any justification because by its very nature a tradition is something we do without question - that's the way its always done. That's why abolishing the monarchy and the Christmas Day Brussels Sprout is unthinkable - they are part of the idiosyncratic fabric of this little island we call Britannia - they are things that make us, well, us.
That's not to say tradition doesn't occasionally need a face lift ... The Queen has taken to using public transport these days and I could swear there is a hint of purple rinse going on too, but what of revamping the humble sprout ?
Thought of with about as much affection as the smell they produce halfway through the Eastenders Christmas Special the Brussels Sprout only seems to rear its bulbous little head once a year in my house. I don't think its inherently evil as vegetables go but years of systematic torture at the hands of amateur cooks now ranks it alongside Osama Bin Laden as guest least welcome at a dinner party.
For that reason this week I'm resurrecting our little friend with an incredible recipe I put together using wine, herbs, garlic and pine nuts. I'm going to eat them while I watch the Queen's speech today and if the worst comes to the worst, well, I can always blame it on the dog ...
Merry Christmas everyone !
X
P.S. Morris Dancing is deeply sinister and is one tradition we can definitely do without ... ;-)
But that's the point of tradition isn't it ? It doesn't need any justification because by its very nature a tradition is something we do without question - that's the way its always done. That's why abolishing the monarchy and the Christmas Day Brussels Sprout is unthinkable - they are part of the idiosyncratic fabric of this little island we call Britannia - they are things that make us, well, us.
That's not to say tradition doesn't occasionally need a face lift ... The Queen has taken to using public transport these days and I could swear there is a hint of purple rinse going on too, but what of revamping the humble sprout ?
Thought of with about as much affection as the smell they produce halfway through the Eastenders Christmas Special the Brussels Sprout only seems to rear its bulbous little head once a year in my house. I don't think its inherently evil as vegetables go but years of systematic torture at the hands of amateur cooks now ranks it alongside Osama Bin Laden as guest least welcome at a dinner party.
For that reason this week I'm resurrecting our little friend with an incredible recipe I put together using wine, herbs, garlic and pine nuts. I'm going to eat them while I watch the Queen's speech today and if the worst comes to the worst, well, I can always blame it on the dog ...
Merry Christmas everyone !
X
P.S. Morris Dancing is deeply sinister and is one tradition we can definitely do without ... ;-)
Sunday, 6 December 2009
Einstein, the Exorcist and the Theory of Marmite
Einstein once said “the definition of madness is to try the same thing over and over again in the belief that next time you will get a different result”. If that’s the case then I must be totally off my rocker.
For year’s now I have periodically wandered through my local supermarket believing that one day I will buy a pot of Marmite, take it home and ravage with the same gusto that a libidinous Jack Russell usually takes to its owner’s leg. Not a chance. Last time I ascended on this flight of fancy my head didn’t actually spin 360 degrees but pretty much everything else remained faithful to a scene from The Exorcist.
But I want to like Marmite. I want to like it in the same way that I wanted to like olives and Guinness and beer as a child. As with all of these things its about that mysterious concept of “acquired taste”…but why the hell would we train, nay, force ourselves to like something that initially made our gills go green ? Maybe I am alone on this one but that’s certainly what I did with a number of foods growing up as a child. They just looked good even if my taste buds were telling me quite the opposite. And so I persevered until one day I liked them…and now inexplicably I love them !
I suppose a simple explanation is that we don’t acquire the taste at all, rather our palette matures such that one day we are struck by the gustatory epiphany of actually liking our former nemesis.
With that in mind this week I have decided to make another ascension of my personal Mount Sinai in the hope that I too will see my ethereal pot of burning Marmite. I’m not going to run before I can walk though so rather than eat the stuff in its unadulterated form I’m making Marmite Cheese on Toast with Red Onion Marmalade…
Tell me if you love it…or even if you hate it ;-)
For year’s now I have periodically wandered through my local supermarket believing that one day I will buy a pot of Marmite, take it home and ravage with the same gusto that a libidinous Jack Russell usually takes to its owner’s leg. Not a chance. Last time I ascended on this flight of fancy my head didn’t actually spin 360 degrees but pretty much everything else remained faithful to a scene from The Exorcist.
But I want to like Marmite. I want to like it in the same way that I wanted to like olives and Guinness and beer as a child. As with all of these things its about that mysterious concept of “acquired taste”…but why the hell would we train, nay, force ourselves to like something that initially made our gills go green ? Maybe I am alone on this one but that’s certainly what I did with a number of foods growing up as a child. They just looked good even if my taste buds were telling me quite the opposite. And so I persevered until one day I liked them…and now inexplicably I love them !
I suppose a simple explanation is that we don’t acquire the taste at all, rather our palette matures such that one day we are struck by the gustatory epiphany of actually liking our former nemesis.
With that in mind this week I have decided to make another ascension of my personal Mount Sinai in the hope that I too will see my ethereal pot of burning Marmite. I’m not going to run before I can walk though so rather than eat the stuff in its unadulterated form I’m making Marmite Cheese on Toast with Red Onion Marmalade…
Tell me if you love it…or even if you hate it ;-)
Wednesday, 30 September 2009
Thai Food and The King of Culinary Rock...
"I think they're all a bunch of c***s..."
The asterisks may cover the gender of the genitalia in question but one thing is for sure: Keith Floyd was never one to mince his words.
Keith gave this touching reciprocation of affection about his fellow celebrity chefs in his last interview with Keith Allen aired on 14 September 2009. It may not have been his epitaph but given that Keith was to pass away that very same day it resonated as a statement of his approach to, and his effect on, the world of TV cooking.
Now I'm not gonna' lie - I might love cooking but Floyd was actually a generation before me. I knew the name of course but by the time I hit university and was really watching a lot of food TV (what else was I meant to do ? Study ?!) it was the likes of Jamie and Gordon who were beginning to catch my attention. One was Naked and the other was reaching his Boiling Point and both seemed more relevant to me than their predecessors.
But with various tributes about Floyd now appearing in the press and on the television I've discovered not so much the original celebrity chef but perhaps the original rockstar chef. Floyd simply didn't give a rat's arse what people thought of him and whilst Jamie was still in nappies and Gordon barely even simmering he was taking food TV out of the studio and into the wilderness. The notion of Ainsley getting half cut on Can't Cook, Won't Cook is unthinkable but to Floyd the ubiquitous glass of wine was a trademark. I find myself watching his shows with the same nervous anticipation you might expect from an olympic figure skating final: will they win gold or will they end up splayed across the ice ?
To me its the honest, unscripted passion for food that fascinates me about Floyd and its to this that I humbly aspire in my own cooking. I'm not going to over-egg the pudding here - Keith would just tell me to "bloody well get on with it man" so for the uninitiated here are a couple of clips of the great man:
Start with this one - a classic scene where Floyd gets told in no uncertain terms by a French Madame that his food is not up to scratch:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfm4en3SC3I
Then the final interview itself:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WAbnIV2lsQ0
My most recent inspiration was Far Flung Floyd on his travels around Thailand so last week I cooked Thai for a few friends - mussaman curry and the classic moo pad grapow - here's to you Floyd !
The asterisks may cover the gender of the genitalia in question but one thing is for sure: Keith Floyd was never one to mince his words.
Keith gave this touching reciprocation of affection about his fellow celebrity chefs in his last interview with Keith Allen aired on 14 September 2009. It may not have been his epitaph but given that Keith was to pass away that very same day it resonated as a statement of his approach to, and his effect on, the world of TV cooking.
Now I'm not gonna' lie - I might love cooking but Floyd was actually a generation before me. I knew the name of course but by the time I hit university and was really watching a lot of food TV (what else was I meant to do ? Study ?!) it was the likes of Jamie and Gordon who were beginning to catch my attention. One was Naked and the other was reaching his Boiling Point and both seemed more relevant to me than their predecessors.
But with various tributes about Floyd now appearing in the press and on the television I've discovered not so much the original celebrity chef but perhaps the original rockstar chef. Floyd simply didn't give a rat's arse what people thought of him and whilst Jamie was still in nappies and Gordon barely even simmering he was taking food TV out of the studio and into the wilderness. The notion of Ainsley getting half cut on Can't Cook, Won't Cook is unthinkable but to Floyd the ubiquitous glass of wine was a trademark. I find myself watching his shows with the same nervous anticipation you might expect from an olympic figure skating final: will they win gold or will they end up splayed across the ice ?
To me its the honest, unscripted passion for food that fascinates me about Floyd and its to this that I humbly aspire in my own cooking. I'm not going to over-egg the pudding here - Keith would just tell me to "bloody well get on with it man" so for the uninitiated here are a couple of clips of the great man:
Start with this one - a classic scene where Floyd gets told in no uncertain terms by a French Madame that his food is not up to scratch:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfm4en3SC3I
Then the final interview itself:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WAbnIV2lsQ0
My most recent inspiration was Far Flung Floyd on his travels around Thailand so last week I cooked Thai for a few friends - mussaman curry and the classic moo pad grapow - here's to you Floyd !
Monday, 3 August 2009
Designer Thoughtfulness, Italian Food and the Greatest Question of our Time…
There are myriad debates that will rumble on into eternity: The Beatles or The Stones ? Christianity or Islam ? Socialism or Capitalism?
This week I want to tackle the greatest of them all: Fresh Pasta or a New Handbag ?
That Chanel and Bertorelli might not be the most common of bed fellows I will readily concede. Nor could I claim that one is a practical substitute for the other since even the most devout fahionista is unlikely to match their new Jimmy Choos with a sack of durum wheat before they flounce into Cipriani or the like.
No, what I want to get to understand, nay prove, is that something as simple as a quickly thrown together home cooked dinner costing a few quid from the local store is worth far more than any offering from Rodeo Drive.
I happen to be sitting on Rodeo Drive right now. I’m sipping on an organic soy milk frappe-something-or-other witnessing American consumerism in action. And though the constant stream of stick thin perfect 10’s with day-glo dentistry and perma tan legs seem happy with their recent purchases; you just know they secretly yearn for the carbohydrate laden indulgence of a good bowl of penne.
Last week the debate came to a head when I met Lisa and Haley who run London’s elite introduction service Elect Club. Having almost received a mortal head wound from aforesaid Chanel handbag I proposed an experiment on a scale arguably comparable to the Large Hadron Collider – get their male members into the kitchen to prove that fresh pasta could take down Coco’s finest.
So this week’s video is a simple guide to a three course Italian meal that even the most kitchen-averse could handle. And the results of the debate ? Well that’s for you to decide. Guys: what reaction did you get ? Girls: would you really prefer this season’s Louboutin’s to your boyfriend’s seasonal cooking ? We might not solve world peace today but at least we can tick this conundrum off our list…
This week I want to tackle the greatest of them all: Fresh Pasta or a New Handbag ?
That Chanel and Bertorelli might not be the most common of bed fellows I will readily concede. Nor could I claim that one is a practical substitute for the other since even the most devout fahionista is unlikely to match their new Jimmy Choos with a sack of durum wheat before they flounce into Cipriani or the like.
No, what I want to get to understand, nay prove, is that something as simple as a quickly thrown together home cooked dinner costing a few quid from the local store is worth far more than any offering from Rodeo Drive.
I happen to be sitting on Rodeo Drive right now. I’m sipping on an organic soy milk frappe-something-or-other witnessing American consumerism in action. And though the constant stream of stick thin perfect 10’s with day-glo dentistry and perma tan legs seem happy with their recent purchases; you just know they secretly yearn for the carbohydrate laden indulgence of a good bowl of penne.
Last week the debate came to a head when I met Lisa and Haley who run London’s elite introduction service Elect Club. Having almost received a mortal head wound from aforesaid Chanel handbag I proposed an experiment on a scale arguably comparable to the Large Hadron Collider – get their male members into the kitchen to prove that fresh pasta could take down Coco’s finest.
So this week’s video is a simple guide to a three course Italian meal that even the most kitchen-averse could handle. And the results of the debate ? Well that’s for you to decide. Guys: what reaction did you get ? Girls: would you really prefer this season’s Louboutin’s to your boyfriend’s seasonal cooking ? We might not solve world peace today but at least we can tick this conundrum off our list…
*** Comments Below - let the debate begin...! ***
Monday, 6 July 2009
Culinary Terrorists and the Chorizo Hamburgers...
There are certain seismic events which have the ability to unite the greatest of our gene pool. The Olympics, The G8 summit and of course the Taste of London Food Festival.
A yearly event, "Taste" (as the cognoscenti call it), brings together the great and the good of UK cuisine so that hordes of foodies can queue up to eat their finest offerings from paper plates on plastic garden furniture.
I turned up this year having undergone an entire day of Yom Kippur style fasting to find that something was strangely amiss - sitting on an upturned vegetable crate outside Regent's Park was the one and only Mushroom Man himself, Antonio Carluccio. Further surveillance revealed Michel Roux jnr. pacing moodily around a police car whilst various other tv chefs who I couldn't quite place impatiently twiddled their thumbs. It looked like the culinary version of Edward Hopper's Nighthawks.
As it turns out the denizens of global terror were giving up on Parliament and turning their attention to far bigger targets: Gordon Ramsay at Stall 55E. Speculation was rife as to the source of the terrorist threat but AA Gill and Ainsley Harriet were both in the frame. As it turns out the suspect package was no more threatening than a dirty nappy in a Lidl Bag (or was that a misplaced sous vide concoction a la Blumenthal ?) and after 45 minutes we were in...
A yearly event, "Taste" (as the cognoscenti call it), brings together the great and the good of UK cuisine so that hordes of foodies can queue up to eat their finest offerings from paper plates on plastic garden furniture.
I turned up this year having undergone an entire day of Yom Kippur style fasting to find that something was strangely amiss - sitting on an upturned vegetable crate outside Regent's Park was the one and only Mushroom Man himself, Antonio Carluccio. Further surveillance revealed Michel Roux jnr. pacing moodily around a police car whilst various other tv chefs who I couldn't quite place impatiently twiddled their thumbs. It looked like the culinary version of Edward Hopper's Nighthawks.
As it turns out the denizens of global terror were giving up on Parliament and turning their attention to far bigger targets: Gordon Ramsay at Stall 55E. Speculation was rife as to the source of the terrorist threat but AA Gill and Ainsley Harriet were both in the frame. As it turns out the suspect package was no more threatening than a dirty nappy in a Lidl Bag (or was that a misplaced sous vide concoction a la Blumenthal ?) and after 45 minutes we were in...
Ingredients
500g best quality minced beef
200g shredded chorizo
Half cup of breadcrumbs
1 whole egg
Tablespoon of pine nuts
Ketchup
Dried oregano
Chilli seeds
Salt and pepper
Mild goat's cheese
Method
Firstly prepare to be astounded by your cooking prowess - this one is as easy as finding dirt on a Labour politician.
Put the minced beef, shredded chorizo, egg (sans shell please), a good squeeze of ketchup, and a couple of good pinches of oregano and chilli seeds in a bowl.
Next put your pinenuts in a dry frying pan over a medium high heat and toast them to a golden colour whilst making witty innuendos to your guests about burning your nuts.
Add the pinenuts to the mixture, season with salt and pepper then get your hands dirty to mix it all up. At this stage I always take a teaspoon of the mixture and cook it in the frying pan to check the seasoning. Not enough Ketchup ? Give it another squidge. Flavour of the beef not quite standing out ? Season that bad boy.
Chill the mixture for at least 20 minutes before dusting some flour on the work surface to make your patties. Grab a handful just smaller than a tennis ball and roll it in the flour before giving it a bit of a slap and neatening up the edge.
Now here's he crucial bit - you can fry, grill or barbeque your burger but don't start basking in your prospective culinary glory just yet or you'll end up overcooking it. I would recommend cooking the burger on a medium high heat for a few minutes each side and topping it with some mild goat's cheese for the last couple of minutes. Medium rare is best in my book.
This burger is so damn good that it doesn't need a bap - for the carb inclined though a nice fresh ciabatta is the best option with a simple side salad and a nice cold Budweiser.
Next week I'm planning a fantastic summer dish which first saw the light of day when I shot a pilot show in LA last year so check in with me then.
Enjoy !
x
(P.S. You've got to love Shoreditch House - I am typing this as Sophie Ellis Bextor is standing two metres away preparing to do a live set...wonder what her favourite dinner would be ?)
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