No Way José!

As regular readers will know, this blog isn't purely about food and cooking, although I write about it a lot... and as you can no doubt gather, it would be fair to say that I enjoy food AND cooking. If I were a pixie, I'd be ground staff as I'm fairly sure that there are no wings available to lift this love of food off the ground :-) Ok. I'm not that large. I'm more towards the comfortably padded (Nigella) end of the scale (without the serious boobs... and yes, I CAN say boobs. It's my blog. So there!)


Although I intend to introduce many other skills that we shouldn't be losing as generations slip by, today I'm going to tell you a bit about my garden. There are two reasons for that. The first is that it's Spring here and the garden is full of new secrets and fresh colours and the second reason - but by no means a deciding reason - is the fact that Miss Twinset and the Other One are pixie hunting in the kitchen. They've decided that Ruby is to blame for the rapidly diminishing alcohol stores and no amount of explaining that even if she was helping herself, it would be a teaspoon full at most makes any difference. They are totally convinced that somewhere in my kitchen is an extremely sloshed (and slooshy) pixie who possibly resembles a rather ripe tomato rather than a svelte fairy, due to the numerous bottles of booze that she's liberated from the store cupboard. Of course, their search is being conducted with all the precision of a blind tattoo artist and it certainly doesn't help that their "field rations" for the day consisted of a case of wine, 2 bottles of vodka, 3 limes and a bucket of ice! So... I've run away to the garden.



Now there are a few reasons why being in the garden is therapeutic... for a photographer like me, it affords me plenty of opportunity to just play and be creative! However, as I've said before, I'm not a particularly talented gardener. It would be fair to say that I could kill gravel!! I'm the only person I know who has managed to annihilate not one, but TWO cacti in the past few months. I'm not quite sure how... It's a talent I tell you! However, I really love gardening and the satisfaction of seeing something grow and thrive. Don't look shocked... it happens. Generally when I mostly let nature take its course :-) The only part I don't enjoy as much is when José - the garden boy - taunts my lack of knowledge and skills. Considering he spends all his time leaning on a large garden fork with a tooth pic hanging off of his lip, he doesn't really have the right to an opinion. After all, I've yet to see him have a go at anything useful. It's always... "you're planting that there?" or "if you think that's best" or "and you thought it would grow (snort)"... but so much as ask him to pull a weed and he comes over all "Yo no hablo Inglés" Hmph!! He would like to point out though that he is Spanish and not South American. I think he's neither, being rather freckly and with red hair, but I'll take his word for it!



The other thing about my garden is of course that the undesirables - slugs, snails, caterpillars, weeds - all seem to find it a highly desirable and seemingly safe haven! In fact, I've no sooner rid a section of garden of some of them, then a fresh colony pops up. I swear they've mastered transporter technology and if we could listen in, we'd hear them hailing ships on all frequencies and declaring my garden a habitable area with great air and rich soil deposits. It can't help that I've planted a rich assortment of snacks for the landing parties now can it... ? No. However, I'm fighting back and perhaps... if I'm lucky... I may get a few beans and tomatoes for myself :-) Now... it's not only about flowers or vegetables or fruit. It's about ALL of them in equal measure.

You see, our ancestors (no... not 1000's of years ago... maybe just 3 or 4 generations ago) grew a lot of their own food to suit their needs. Carrots, potatoes, tomatoes, whatever... Of course, they also kept chickens, geese, goats a pig or two and perhaps a cow. We've already covered the likelihood of me keeping a cow in suburbia, but to be fair... the keeping of fowl (birds, not something bad... although a large amount of chicken poo certainly IS foul) is governed by local law. Even if it weren't... I have 7 cats and I'm against cruelty to animals. The cats, not the chickens. Imagine being able to see and smell your toy / snack and not be able to reach it? Torture! Ok... it won't be much fun for the chickens either... I'm getting off track though. My latest obsession for my garden is fruit trees. I already have an orange tree, lemon tree and naartjie tree, but I've since added an apricot tree, a pear tree, a plum tree and a nectarine tree. Now. You may be thinking back to my earlier statement about being talented enough to kill gravel and wondering how I manage to keep my garden growing at all...? If you've been keeping up, you'll know that I have a theory... and it's a doozy!

I suspect that it's a green thumb that's behind it all. Yup - a green thumb! Or thumbelina. Well, that sure got José's attention... his arm slid right off the top of that large garden fork right before his jaw thudded into it! I think he even dropped his tooth pic :-) You see, I don't have enough time to really devote to planting and maintaining my garden and yet it seems to do ok... even thrive! The only explanation that makes any sense to me - even though it is totally illogical to most - is that there exists a sub-culture of garden pixies. Cousins of our dear Ruby if you will. Their sole task is to look after the gardens of enthusiastic gardeners and to reward them with flowers, trees, fruit and veg at the end of it all. Green thumbs and thumbelina's :-) They're assisted by garden gnomes, of course, who generally take guarding duty, but I think mine must sleep all day while invaders sneak past them :-)

I've never been lucky enough to see my thumbelina - and yes, I feel very sure it's a girl who runs my garden - or her band of merry henchmen. Perhaps if I had some of the "breakfast punch" that the Other One makes on a Sunday, I'd be fortunate enough to catch a glimpse... after all, she sees a LOT of stuff that isn't there. Worth a thought. However, I've spent many hours photographing my garden and often photographed her assistants as you can see here. During these hours in the garden, while I fumble my way through gardening 101, I've thought a bit about my thumbelina and I've decided that she wears a pale petal dress in a fetching lilac shade in Summer and Spring and a sturdy, furry seed pod coat in Autumn and Winter. Her name? Ah José, excellent question. I had thought to call her Rose as it is my favourite flower, but I could picture her turning her little freckled nose up at such a predictable name for a garden sprite. Instead, I decided she was more likely a Delphinium (largely because it's said to mean Big-hearted, fun). Of course, Delphinium is a rather long and stuffy name, so I'm sure she prefers to be known as Phin :-)

And now... while José scrabbles about looking for his lost tooth pic, I think I had better go and see what remains of my kitchen. I saw the Other One going in the back door with a hammer minutes ago and I can't have that!

Until next time...

Do You Believe...

....in Fairies? Or to be more precise (just for the purposes of this discussion)... in Pixies? You're looking a little confused and that's understandable. You thought the blog was about restoring the skills lost between our Grandparent's generation and ours... You're not wrong. No... I haven't been smoking the origanum (oregano) again (it was one time and to be fair, the Other one was smoking it and I took it off her in disgust... she thought it was pot. I did not. I only took a drag to see if it was really making purple bunnies come out of the ceiling tiles. For the record... it didn't and it was really unpleasant.) In fairness though, there were some pretty cool Fairies in the time of our Granny & Grandpa. And I'm not just talking about the closet queers of stage and screen... So, back to the fairies with the wings... you're still not so sure? Check these out... The Cottingley Fairies... They were very famous back in 1917...! Ok, so now that we've established that fairies are a part of the "Just Like My Gran"... can we continue? Thank you.



Ok, so whether you believe in fairies, pixies, gremlins, ghosts etc or not, at one time or another we've all blamed something from that list for something... "The email gremlins must've stolen the attachment"... "The fairies must've done it"... etc :-) Well, I have another one to add to the list. The Kitchen Pixie! Who scoffed? Come on... own up. I heard you... Was it you? No matter. The kitchen pixie is very real. And I can prove it! I've established this theory after many hours of deep contemplation and much investigation and there simply is no answer that fits better than a small, quick witted vixen in a Swarovski studded ruby gown who dwells in your kitchen and ... "does" stuff.

"Like what?" our beloved Miss Twinset asks. As well she might. Here it is. My Theory. The Kitchen Pixie... hereafter known as "Ruby".... is responsible for many of the almost unnoticed things that happen in our kitchens every day. The missing lid to your favourite Tupperware? She hid it. The plate on the stove that mysteriously stayed too hot and burnt that dish? She wiggled the switch. The loaf of bread that wasn't sealed and went stale? Yup, that was her too! Now... it's not all bad. In fact, it's more good than bad. You see, she has a wicked sense of humour and the pranks are just to keep you in line.

She's also largely responsible for the strange and inexplicable good stuff too! Examples? Well, you know that silver serving spoon that you've hunted everywhere for? The one that's well and truly gone and might have been pinched by your dotty Aunt Gertrude? Well, it's Murphy's Law that when you open the silverware drawer to prove that it's gone... there it will be, glinting happily at you from the top of the pile. You stare at it in disbelief while the family member shrugs and puts it down to your failing memory. If you listen closely at that point, you'll hear the tinkling bell laughter of the little minx as she darts out of view... ! Her favourite trick though is car keys! No matter where you leave them in the house (even the freezer... don't ask, it was a long day), she'll find them and return them to where you thought you left them, hours after you looked there (twice). It's enough to drive you mad, but it's all in a days work for her!

In fairness, while she may move the whisk totally out of reach so that the sauce curdles, she's equally likely to find that missing recipe card and slip it under a magnet on the fridge (where you definitely wouldn't have put it yourself). She's actually an asset to the kitchen and her favourite thing is to watch you while you work and she's happiest while she's plotting her next escapade or surfing on sunbeams! Now, as she is the "kitchen pixie", you may wonder if she's any good at cooking. Truth is... from what I can gather... no. She's really good at eating though... as evidenced by that last cookie or slice of pie that simply disappeared from the fridge! And no... I didn't eat them! Hmph!

The trick to keeping your resident Kitchen Pixie happy is this... Provide plenty of yummy dishes for her to nibble off of. Leave the odd sparkly thing in the kitchen for her to play with (and keep) and always have something shiny (pot, spoon, bowl of water) for her to examine herself in. Oh... and don't take the pranks too personally! What happens if she's unhappy? You won't like it! I don't take any chances.... no, not even in the interests of providing a comprehensive blog on the subject. Ruby's here and I'm going to keep her happy!

So - all of you out there. Keep your eyes open and you may just catch a glimpse of a misplaced sparkle as it passes or hear a distant giggle... or find that missing pyrex dish :-) Proof that you may well have your own kitchen pixie. In the meantime... I'm going to stock up on sparkly things and see if I can't invite mine to participate more in this blog...

Until next time....

This Little Piggy...

We've all heard the children's rhyme - there's the compulsive shopaholic, the Miss Twinset wannabe, the carnivorous one who ate the cow, the vegetarian one who clucked in disapproval and the incontinent one who should've been cited for urinating in public... unless he was in diapers, in which case, it's probably not an issue. Pardon? I can't hear you when you're talking into your wine glass. That's better... breathe between mouthfuls Miss Twinset. The night is still young! Ok... you wanted to ask why he would be in diapers... well, he is usually the littlest piggy, so it's reasonable to guess that he might be a child. Yes - or a really short, old man. Happy? Great.... Still, funny how as children, we never noticed that the pigs were eating the cows. Wonder if that has some deep, dark meaning...? Anyway. Back to my piggy :-)

My piggy was none of the above. In fairness, I didn't know the piggy personally, but I do know that he (or she) had great taste (yes... tongue in cheek intended). To begin the tale of the piggy, we need to go back several weeks to a casual conversation which took place with a fellow kitchen connoisseur over the meet counter of our local supermarket. We were discussing this blog and my quest for ingredients for dishes to experiment with. I mentioned a desire to do a pork roast, but alas - queue mood music - the cuts were unsuitable, too large and expensive and with a heavy heart, we tore ourselves away. Scoot forward a bit until last week while I was still down with kidney stones and a phone call from my beloved Father who informed me that he had not only found, but (be still my beating heart) had bought me a suitably sized piece of piggy to roast. Squeeeeeee - queue jumping for joy :-)

So, the piggy had been secured - which as the Other One pointed out, didn't take much as it was already dead. Yes, she was aware of the fact that it meant we had it, but I think her sense of humour was making a rare bid for escape from the vodka haze that it found itself in that evening! The question now was what to do with it? And the first person who points out that we're going to roast it, is instructed to slap themselves on my behalf! The question was what was I going to do to it before or during cooking? Was I going to experiment wildly or do something a little more traditional? Hmmm... Considering the state of my health for the weeks preceding the grand roast, I decided to go with more traditional. Sorry, I'll be a bit crazy next time (and you know there'll be a next time!). Miss Twinset was all for doing a Riesling reduction and potato dumplings, but I told her that was a dish for a different day. So she drank it instead. No surprise really :-)

Ok, so once the piggy had defrosted (it had been kindly frozen for freshness until I was ready), it was time to prep the dish. For those of you who haven't been reading since the beginning... step 1 is turning on the oven! In this case, the oven was only preheated to 100 deg Celsius (212 F) as I had decided to slow roast this overnight for maximum tenderness. It also meant that I could ignore the meal for the better part of 12 hours and still get it done :-) To prepare the dish, I peeled 3 carrots and an onion. This (the onion) was chopped into 1/8ths and then I took a sweet Golden Delicious apple and chopped it into 1/8ths also... and cored it of course :-) These were placed into the bottom of my roasting dish with a little oil and some soya sauce. As you can possibly see from the pic, I spiced these ingredients. The pork was also heavily spiced with an assortment of things including loads of black pepper, salt, garlic flakes, dried garlic and even some barbeque spice! Yes. I am aware that this is not beef. Barbeque spice is not an elitist spice. No matter what rumours you may have heard. Moving on... when the meat was prepared, I put it on top of the onions, carrots and apple. Nifty tip... before you spice the top of the meat, dry it off with some kitchen roll. My kitchen guru told me (and he's right) that this will help it crisp up nicely :-)

I then popped the lid on and.... What? You're interrupting me. Can't you just mix another batch of martini's?? Why is there a lid? Well, you need to cover it to retain moisture so that the dish doesn't dry out and burn. I thought that was fairly obvious? (Picture a manicured hand tapping me on the shoulder) True. Considering that the audience may have more of the Other one in it than Miss Twinsets... I suppose it wasn't that obvious. May I continue? Thank you. Ok... so I put the lid on and put it into the preheated oven. This was done around 9pm on the Saturday evening and I went to bed and slept soundly while the piggy was snug and warm in the oven :-) The following morning, around 9am, I took it out of the oven and added some more carrots (just 'cos I really like them) and put it back in the oven.

While the dish was keeping warm, I peeled and chopped the potatoes that had to be added during the final few hours of cooking. When I'd quartered the medium sized spuds, I spiced them with salt and fresh ground black pepper and then tucked them into the roasting dish like a blankie round the piggy :-) No, not pigs in blankets, that's a different dish altogether! Ok, so the spuds are in and - as it's nearly 10am on a Sunday, the air is filled with the sounds of a cocktail shaker being shaken by a pro! Miss Twinset has opened her Sunday wine and has decided it's a good vintage after all. Took 2 glasses, but who's counting? I asked her not to breathe too close to me while I was cooking as I needed to be sober to finish this dish. That and the fact that I didn't know how alcohol would react to my pain meds :-D

After about 40 min or so, when the potatoes had cooked (with a turn in the middle of the cooking time), I removed the lid and turned up the heat a little so that the top of the pork could crisp. I let this cook for about another 40 min until it was ready and then removed the pork, potatoes, carrots and onions from the juice in the base of the roasting dish. This was then placed onto the stove top and over a medium heat, I added gravy powder to the juices. It's important to stir this constantly so that it doesn't go lumpy. If you add too much and it turns into "one slice or two?" gravy, you can simply add some more water to thin it out.

This was so easy to do and it was completely delish after having slow roasted overnight. In fact, it flaked apart when I tried to slice it and the bones came away totally clean - to the despair of my dog who had been holding out hope that there'd be something in it for him. I did give him some of the meat, but only a little bit as it was simply too yummy to share :-) Out of interest, the apple simply adds a touch of fruitiness to the gravy and is completely optional! I could've made my own apple sauce (and probably should've as it would've been a great way to use up the apples that are auditioning for the role of corpse on CSI in my fruit bowl), but I didn't. Store bought can be just as good and as it happens, I had some in the cupboard.

Miss Twinset is lobbying hard for a Riesling pork dish next time round (I had a great dish in a cloister in Germany... if I find the recipe I'll definitely make it), but the Other one is mumbling something about using brandy or rum or vodka... oh wait, not the vodka. That's for drinking :-)

So.... until next time....

Comfort Food...

... is never going to be a salad!!

Ok, so as it happens, I have been down with a kidney stone attack since 31 August... hence the silence on the blogging front! Sorry. Pain trumps typing every time :-) Now you may be wondering why I'm blogging now... Am I better? NO!! Cough. Urm... No, not at present. However, I've got really great drugs and I missed you guys :-) Strange but true :-) I won't dwell on it too much, but I have to tell you that it's a special kind of pain and something you cannot explain to someone else. If you've had it... you'll know. If you haven't... pray! Pray that you never do!

Now, what has this got to do with comfort food you may be wondering? Well, the truth of it is that kidney stones and medication can leave you feeling very sick. It's times like that that you need to find something to eat that appeals to you and that can be a hard thing! It doesn't help to have Miss Twinset sipping her glass of white wine and nibbling daintily on a cracker that's oozing one of those cheeses that smells like it was kept in a college freshman's gym bag for a month. That is not a smell you want when you're feeling sick let me tell you! I asked her not to do that and she dabbed at the crumbs on her lips with her hanky (yup, still lace trimmed) and frowned at me while she delicately speared a preserved fig slice from the main platter. She and the Other One had decided that they weren't going to cook while I was down and instead they had their tipple of choice, a cheese and fruit platter and a mixed box of crackers. I'm tempted to say that they ARE a mixed box of crackers, but that is a terrible injustice... to crackers :-)

So. While she was frowning at me, I was watching the cheese on the cracker as it glanced around shiftily and tried to decide when to make a break for it. I had visions of moving a sofa cushion months from now and finding that oozing lump of cheese holding court with the small change and crumbs that have congregated back there. It's a worrying thought. So, desperate to avoid that, I drew her attention back to the plate before her and then checked on the Other One who was shaking a fresh batch of martini's, stealing ice out of the wine cooler. Miss Twinset can cook of course, we've established that, but I just didn't feel like any of the food in her repertoire. I also didn't feel like coaching her through a new dish. Again :-)

Now. What I felt like was bacon and "Corned Beef Hash". The hash is simple enough to make, but when it comes to comfort food - especially when you're sick - it's best to do it yourself :-) First things first though. I had had a craving for bacon all week and as this was my first foray into the kitchen (other than for an almost unending parade of marmite, syrup and peanut butter sandwiches), I decided to make the most of it! So, bacon was my absolute first step... Now you may be wondering what is in the picture with the bacon. It's actually fried potato skins... waste not want not! They're really yummy and since I'd just peeled the potatoes for the hash, it was convenient. I also fried them with the bacon, so they had a great flavour.... but that wasn't the main reason I got out of bed :-)

Ok, so while the bacon was cooking for lunch, I peeled the potatoes and onions and chopped them all. The onions went into the same oil that the bacon had come out of. Miss Twinset glared disapprovingly at me, but I have to say, you can't waste flavour like that. I asked her if she'd throw out the last half glass of a bottle of wine and her horrified look said it all! So, with her safely tucked into the corner and the Other One still in the sitting room battling the ever escaping cheese, I carried on with the task at hand. It's strangely comforting to be cooking - especially something you want to eat! The onions were cooked until they were soft and browned (they picked up all the great bacon flavour).

In the meantime, while that was going on, I had put the chopped up potatoes on to boil. These would be mashed with milk, butter, salt and pepper when cooked... YUM! I could probably have eaten just the potatoes at that point... I don't often eat potato anymore and it's a treat :-) It's also a fantastic stress reliever when you've been held hostage by pain all week! You get to bash out all your frustration and I think it's fair to say that there wasn't a single lump left in that pot when I was done... I felt a bit better though. Shrug.

Now we come to the corned beef. This is always a troubling part of the dish for me. After all. It's meat. In a tin. That has a shelf life of 5 years. All of this is ok, but I always wonder why the tins are rusty when they were only made a few months ago? By now, the Other One had joined us in the kitchen and she was really turning her nose up at corned beef on the chopping board. I forget how sheltered she is with all her staff. And booze. I admit though that it never looks as great as it tastes. The only time I cannot eat it is when I find a bit of blood vessel in there. It's a bit like vienna's or polony. Don't ask. Don't tell. "La la la la la - I'm not listening to you - la la la la la" Yes. My fingers ARE in my ears.

Now, back to those onions that you've fried... yes we did - earlier. Focus! Add the chopped up corned beef to the frying pan. At this point, you can also add chopped tomatoes (I didn't have any) and then you fry this mix for a little longer until the corned beef breaks up. You can also add seasoning like salt, pepper, chutney - whatever takes your fancy really. Then, you tip the mashed potato into the frying pan and smoosh (we've covered this before... it's a real cooking term) the entire lot around until it's picked up all the flavour from the pan. Then you tip it all into an ovenproof dish and sprinkle cheese on top and bake it briefly in the oven ... or, if you're like me, you just microwave it melt the cheese :-)

It's certainly the ugly step sister of meals, but it tastes really great!! Comfort food the way comfort food was meant to be!

Until next time...