Stout times

The other day I remembered with fear and trepidation that Christmas is, like, just now! And I haven’t been feeding a pudding with brandy for months yet. I hadn’t even baked it. But I’ve been keen on trying a cake this year instead of pudding since I really like to eat the stuff sliced, with a bit of mature cheese. So I found a recipe for a Dark, Sticky Guinness Christmas Cake, and off I went to the bottle store for some milk stout and the supermarket for a bunch of dried fruits.

xmas cake

Is there a nicer thing to deal with on a Saturday morning than milk stout and molasses, melted butter and sugar, dried fruit and a heady aroma of cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and ginger? I think not.

Now for the wait. The recipe doesn’t say anything about feeding it – just that it will ‘keep for up to a month’. I’ve already taken the liberty of making sure it will keep for a lot longer than that, thanks to my good friend the Three Ships Whisky. Given that puddings are generally steamed again before serving (which basically eliminates the alcohol), and that fruit cakes are NOT, I truly look forward to eating this baby.

In other news, Royal Greenland (responsible for all the little bland “prawns” Danes put on their bread) and The Shellfish Association of Great Britain have recently conspired to build the world’s biggest prawn cocktail (think 50kg of prawns, and 10 litres of “Marie Rose”, aka. 1000 Island dressing). Quite a far cry from our starter last night:

DSC00890

(Admittedly we did order just one to share, and the restaurant helpfully divided it between two plates. But it was … not… all… that… great).

Posted in Posts | Leave a comment

A (non-Orwellian) perspective on language and thought

From Adam Gopnik’s Angels and Ages: A Short Book About Darwin, Lincoln, and Modern Life (Alfred A. Knopf, 2009):

‘The subject [of this book] is liberal civilization and its language – the way we live now and the way we talk at home and in public. These are essays without an agenda, but this book is not without a thesis. The thesis is that literary eloquence is essential to liberal civilization; our heroes should be men and women possessed by the urgency of utterance, obsessed by the need to see for themselves and to speak for us all. Authoritarian societies can rely on an educated elite; mere mass society, on shared dumb show. Liberal cities can’t. A commitment to persuasion is in itself a central liberal principle. New ways of thinking demand new kinds of eloquence. Our world rests on science and democracy, on seeing and saying; it rests on thinking new thoughts and getting them heard by a lot of people….

The point is not that writing well is a proof of thinking clearly. Orwell was wrong about that, sadly. The truth is that plenty of men who have written very well have thought horrible thoughts, and the thoughts have been made to seem less horrible by being well written. No, the point is that when we do come across those who write well and see clearly, we’re right to make them heroes.’

Mr. Gopnik may be onto something. So don’t forget to recognise the people who deserve it (and to ignore those who don’t, if you can’t actually shut them up).

Posted in Posts | 1 Comment

Take one crayfish

Or two, if you are a lucky one.

crayfish1

Eat them however you like. But do not throw out the shells. These need to be roasted and then boiled with a bunch of other goodies to make an unbelievable stock. Since you’ll have no idea how to do it justice so soon after the making, stash it in the freezer, where it will probably bug you for the next 10 months or so.

Hey, I’m just saying. That’s what happened to me, so it’s not impossible.

The other day I finally got it together to face the stock. (I should give credit to Dr. Dread the anthropologist who was visiting, and who does not partake of the glorious red (or piggie) meat, meaning we were forced into a three-day omega-3 – omega-3-day? – fishy binge). I did what I had been avoiding for 10 months. I made risotto.

I’ve been avoiding it for a number of reasons. For one thing, everyone seems to talk about risotto as this easy, everyday staple that they whip up when they’ve got nothing in the kitchen. Which is fair and well, but let’s also face the fact that there are other everyday staples that are much more forgiving than risotto. Like pasta. Sure, you can overcook it, but it’s very difficult to make pasta really unpalatable. Fishcakes. (Pork belly confit!). Risotto is potentially wonderful, but only on a slippery slope to heavy, unpleasant gloop.

Also, I had no arborio rice in the house, and have resisted buying it for the last 10 months because I’m not convinced I realy need it in the kitchen. But I do have grødris, or the short fat rice used for Danish rice pudding. It looks very similar, though with slightly smaller grains. I knew it would be a risk, but since I also had a nice packet of fat prawns and a bunch of fennel in the fridge, I plunged in and stirred (adding vodka instead of wine, and a significant spike of chilli, garlic and fennel seeds to the mix).

DSC00868

I generally have no qualms boasting about something that went well in the kitchen (nor do I avoid the stupid excuses when they don’t), but this was such a success I am almost embarrassed to say how good it was. It certainly wasn’t “authentic”, but it was hands down the best risotto I’ve ever tasted. In fact if they were all like that I’d probably eat a lot more of the stuff. Of course I should really thank the crayfish, but that would be silly.

(This strange habit of apologising for our successes reminds me of anthropology. Anthropo (man) + logia (study of) = study of man. Why does it so often come acoss as an apology for man?)

Posted in Posts | Leave a comment

Purple Haze: a hand-cut, home-made picture essay

meat collage

bread onions

burgers

eater

purple haze

Lessons learned:

1. Hand-chopped burgers held together with duck fat and smothered in mature cheddar are seriously good.

2. You cannot laugh and eat a burger at the same time. Seriously.

Posted in Posts | Leave a comment

Jumping frogs (or, “en med det hele”)

I really must do something about my food photography. The other day I decided it was time for yet another violation of my (increasingly silly, as I’m coming to see it) aversion to mixing meat and bread. It was time for hotdogs.

Of course for the novice this poses all sorts of difficult decisions when shopping: what kind of sausage? What kind of roll? (Can I really just buy the ubiquitous – and decidedly unsexy – supermarket “hotdog rolls” that are no-brainers for schoolchildren?) What condiments?

In the end, dinner was modelled on what the Danes (bless their porky perversions) call “en med det hele” – or one with everything. If you order this at a Danish hotdog stand – and which I did for the Philosophe do when we were in that country, and he liked them so much he made me order them again and again – you get a basic (roll + sausage of your choice) plus mustard, ketchup, remoulade, crispy fried onions, raw onions, and cucumber relish.

Minus the remoulade and raw onions, we concocted something pretty damn good. Start by frying some smoked cabanossi (here the important factor is the knæk):

DSC00838

For the cucumber relish, I guess gherkins would work, but even better is this “salad” of thinly sliced cucumber that’s been marinating in vinegar, sugar, salt and pepper for a couple of hours (think crunchy salty sweetness):

DSC00840

Slice up an onion as fine as it gets, toss in a little flour and seasoning (Old Bay works well), then deep/shallow fry those babies until you get some good crunch:

DSC00839

Yes, I really must do something about my food photography. It’s a real problem, especially when you get to the best part, which is the combined action of assembly and eating. When I took this next picture I just knew it wasn’t going to do the thing justice. But perhaps I should be happy to report that when it comes down to it, the eating is far more important than getting a better shot. So you’ll just have to imagine the rest.

DSC00842

Did I already say this was good? It was.

Now I have to go hand-chop some rump steak for tonight’s burgers. If there are no decent pictures, you’ll understand.

Posted in Posts | 1 Comment

What We Have Wrought

If I were to describe the single best thing about my life with the Philosophe, I’d have to borrow a line my father used to like (he said it was from Kierkegaard, though I remain unconvinced of the source): the joy of expectation.

From the day we decided to get married, we have been planning – and executing – wonderful things. First was the wedding (obviously the best of its kind). Then we designed a new kitchen together, and most recently a super sexy bathroom which we are finally getting to enjoy (how nice is it to step onto a  heated floor when you get up in the middle of the night? Very very nice). I wrote a PhD too, and then a book. Both would have been impossible without him.

Perhaps best of all is what happens in between the big projects. How browsing the web, or walking down the aisles in a supermarket has become a whole new experience, because my (constantly-running) cooking fantasies actually have a point now – sometimes they end in a dinner with friends around our kitchen table, and other times just something suitably extravagant for the two of us on a Tuesday night while we watch True Blood.

Last weekend I got to play my through a whole fantasy bonanza as I prepared a “retro-kitsch” dinner for some new (and some older) friends. We started with gougeres stuffed with duck that had been shredded from these lovely legs (part of a whole different, earlier pleasure):

DSC00821

I also tried my hand at the outrageous pork belly confit that I have been dreaming about since I saw this. I didn’t actually go as far as to deep fry the confit on that night – I tamely fried up some slices and served them on a leaf of cos lettuce with a caesar-type dressing. Being a little too eager I started them too soon, so they were on the verge of drying out – if such a thing is possible with confit, but they were still crisp and lovely. Good contrast with the lettuce and dressing. (And a few nights later I overcame my prudence and deep-fried the rest of the confit for an egg and anchovy salad. Pork confit croutons. Yes!!)

For mains we had beef ribs braised in coffee, yorkshire puddings and brussel sprouts. I’ve made toad-in-the-hole before (with boerewors!), but never these babies, which this rather poor photograph does little justice to.

DSC00837-1

I’m still not sure about the concept of having puffed up pancakes as a savoury starch, but people in the know said they were good (I believe them because they ate them all), and it’s certainly fun to watch them exploding out of their little tins in the oven.

For dessert, ice cream cake. Which really means a base of crushed (home-made) ginger-chocolate biscotti, topped with (home-made) ginger ice cream, and served with a warm (home-made) rumtopf sauce – which means plums that have been macerating in rum and sugar for 6 months, then pureed, then heated in the microwave.

By all accounts, it was a great meal, a great evening, and great fun to put together. I can’t take all the credit, of course – we did also drink some very lovely wine, and the table was populated with lovely people, my Philosophe included.

Was it a once off? Certainly not. Such is our life. On Monday we celebrate our second anniversary. Only two years! So young, and so much, still, to expect. If I wasn’t me I’d wish I was.

PS. If you like all things deep-fried, check out Chicken Charlie on The Tonight Show.

Posted in Posts | 1 Comment

Slow cooked meats and crinkled sheets

Not having a bathroom turns out to be an amazingly effective way to not do a whole lot things you’d think have nothing to do with having a bathroom. Like cooking, because everything is so dusty. And working, because how can I settle down without being able to get up to pee every 5 minutes. Of course I don’t actually do this, but it’s important to know that I can, so instead I end up spending afternoons in other places where they have flushing toilets, and coffee and whisky and wine and food. As we discovered with our new kitchen last year, half the price of renovations is hidden in all the money you spend trying to get away from the temporary devastation of your home.

But things come together after they fall apart, and we now have floor tiles and a flushing toilet and hot water in our taps again. Showering still has to take place elsewhere, but it won’t be long now before I can go back to my normally obsessive behaviour of visiting the gym only five instead of seven days a week. (Funny how you start to think that everyone notices when emerge from the gym looking fresh after just 10 minutes, and probably think you’re hopelessly conning yourself that somehow being in the vicinity of active gym bunnies has some effect).

Anyway, I’ve been trying to capitalise on quiet kitchen space this weekend, so yesterday I tried David Lebovitz’s recipe for carnitas: what we enjoyed for dinner was obviously inauthentic because we resorted to pita breads rather than tortillas, but the combination of very slowly cooked pork that was somehow crispy and super tender, together with avo, and some fresh herby chilli-ish salsa was right up there.

Next up are a couple of ducks legs which have been marinading in Mr. O’s suggested soy sauce, star anise, five spice and cinnamon concoction for a couple of days. They are halfway through their 3 hours of slow roasting in the oven, and the aromas are beginning their rounds. It won’t be confit, but it will be a juicy, ducky, crisp-skinned delight (which may even stretch to a Peking pancake or two sometime during the week).

Otherwise I have been delighted (thanks to a food listserv I belong to!) to find a very helpful instructional video on Youtube demonstrating the correct method to fold a fitted sheet. She makes it look so damn easy! I tried, and failed. Watched again, tried again, and failed again. I even submitted myself to pausing after every step to make sure I got it right. I still failed. I guess I should be thankful that I’m the only one in our household that cares about what the inside of a linen cupboard looks like. But damnit, I must figure it out.

(On a concluding note, I finally got round to reading the latest “food” edition of The Nation. Unsurprisingly, much of it is drivel, with the usual suspects – Alice Waters, Michael Pollan – saying the same thing they always say. The one article I do recommend is a literature review by Brent Cunningham (Columbia Journalism Review’s managing editor), and a very good critique of the evangelising tendency of “foodies”. Here’s a taste:

‘It is always easier, of course, to identify a problem than to solve it, but the good-food revolution feels stuck, unsure how to move beyond its evangelical phase, which has been fairly successful in raising awareness about the ills of the industrial food chain. To be sure, far from the panel-and-documentary circuit, some important work is under way to change how our food is produced and consumed: the efforts by governments and nonprofits to make farmers’ markets food-stamp friendly; the growth in states and cities of food-policy councils, which bring together citizens, government officials and other stakeholders in the food system to work on all manner of food-related issues; the increasing number of mayors who are adding good-food initiatives to their agendas (…). Yet these efforts are nascent and uneven, and the tenor of the movement is still dominated by big ideas with a facile and vaguely paternalistic quality that is frustrating. Eat less meat. Plant a garden. Cook. Understand that “cheap” food has hidden costs. Appoint a food czar.’

Hear hear. The food czars abound. Now, how do we dis-appoint them??)

Posted in Posts | 1 Comment

It Must have Been Something She Ate

Poor little Mogwai wasn’t a happy cat the other day. Normally a greed-bucket of note, she turned her nose up at at least four meals. Here she is empathising with Jeffrey Steingarten.

DSC00786

(She’s all better now. She managed about a third of my bowl of – heavily wasabi-spiced – popcorn last night).

In other news, we have no bathroom these days. Only a proper holy grail:

DSC00792

Soon to be replaced with underfloor heating, a rocking shower, heated towel rails, and a Geberit (“excellence in sanitary technology” – you gotta love it). Yes, we will be kings again.

Posted in Posts | Leave a comment

Bread and meat

Being a Dane (when I feel like it), I’ve never had a taste for closed sandwiches. Which is not to say that I don’t love bread – I do, in all its glorious chewy starchiness. But in my universe, the best bread is eaten solo, with butter (perhaps cheese), while the main focus of sandwiches are the toppings, in which case all that bread is just a silly distraction (also, incidentally, why I love rice cakes: just platforms for piling on toppings).

This also means that if I order a burger anywhere, I’ll simply ignore the bread and eat the meat. (This is actually a fairly normal Danish way of dealing with minced beef. Hakkebøf, or “chopped steak”, is simply a meal of beef patties with lots of fried onions. Yum.)

Until last night. The Philosophe braai-ed (=bbq) us a couple of his 11 secret-herbs-and-spices burgers, including some Bobby Flay-inspired tip which involved spreading a cheesy-tomato mixture on the burgers in their final minutes of cooking on the grill. I had baked us some rolls earlier in the day, which we then sliced and buttered and gave a light toasting on the coals. If ever there was a time to try to full monty burger experience, this was it.

DSC00783

Mustard on the top half, chutney (!!), and pickles on the other. I closed that baby up, squashed it down, and went hand-to-mouth. And you know what? I finally get it! There is indeed a reason that these things have been around for so long. It was delicious. (Though it leaves no room for a brownie for dessert).

Then there was the Beef Wellington I whipped up the other night. There was nothing classical about it – I wrapped the fillet in onions and chorizo (no bacon/prosciutto or mushrooms in the house), and the pastry was not puff but some leftover croissant dough I had. Still, it’s a wonder what you can conjure with a couple of things from the fridge (yes, there just happened to be a piece of beef fillet in there too):

DSC00781

Ignoring the fact that the meat was raw the first time I cut it open – meaning we had to wait another 10 minutes for dinner – the combination of crispy pastry and melting tender meat when we finally got stuck in is truly good, even in all its kitschy glory. Now I understand why Gordon Ramsay keeps putting it on the Hell’s Kitchen menu (and I confess I had a moment of terror as I imagined his voice in my head when I first sliced it open: “you stupid c**t, you f**ked it up… throw it out…clear down and GET OUT! (Sotto voce) Holy f**k!).

No, thankfully there ain’t no Ramsay in this house. But we do have a black pig that roams about the neighbourhood. Sometimes it hurtles down the street for no apparent reason other than glee at being a pig (what’s not to love?).

DSC00779

Are you thinking what I’m thinking? That’s right. Pulled pork sandwiches. Twice-cooked pork bellyEn croute. Somebody stop me.

Posted in Posts | Leave a comment

Is that duck fat in my brownie?

Nah, just kidding, of course I didn’t make brownies with duck fat. But recently the aromas of brownies and duck fat (cooking separately) in our kitchen were positively intoxicating, and made me think of an article I read many years ago when Ferran Adria was still a novelty (“Is that Ham Fat on my Cherry?”).

The point of the exercise was the exact opposite of what Adria and his disciples are known for. This was about making two classics: duck confit – starting with fresh duck legs and two jars of duck fat, and the great Brownie-off, where Glen the sailor and I were up against Betty Crocker. More on the brownies in a minute. First the duck (a picture essay will suffice).

DSC00772

+ leftovers from a previous can of confit in a pot =

DSC00774

+

DSC00773

+ 4 hours gentle cooking + 24 hours in the fridge =

DSC00775

+ gentle dislodging heat, then fierce pan heat =

DSC00777

Yes, that skin got mighty crispy, and yes the meat was falling of those skinny bones. Unfortunately the skin was also VERY salty, and – incredibly – the meat got a bit dried out during its final minutes in the oven while we waited for the third frying of some superlative frites (fried in duck fat, of course).  So the process must be repeated, perfection seekers that we are. But we did eat well that evening.

Which leads me to the brownie-off. What can I say? Our two esteemed judges were unanimous in all their rankings, and the winner was….

Betty Crocker.

The woman who does not exist, and who puts her name to a box of who-knows-what brown powder that you simply add half a cup of oil and a couple of eggs to, makes the best brownies. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: technology is wondrous stuff.

(Don’t get me wrong: of course my brownies were the real best – what do “judges” know anyway?). At least I’m not a sore loser.

Posted in Posts | Leave a comment