Monday 27 July 2015

Quinoa - The Truth


There is a very fine fake quinoa cooking recipe (right) but it swears a lot. I try not to swear in these posts because of my mother who always wanted me not to swear; however these instructions nicely express what all right-thinking people feel about quinoa so I have written out the same sentiments but without the swearing.









 Quinoa Instructions 

·          - Prior to commencing cookery remember to tie your hair and beard into ponytails. Put on some pretentious music in the background, ensuring that it is loud enough for the neighbours to hear it so they will know how clever and intellectual you are. Suggested tracks: whale song, Indian chanting, ‘World music’. Avoid anything with a good tune or pleasant harmonisations.

-  This stupid stuff has to be RINSED before you can even use it. Rinse 1 part quinoa. You must do this with cold water drawn from the Yangtze River - Do not rinse it with tap water. Make sure people see you.

- Measure out 5 parts water, or stock. Measure it with your de Longhi measuring jug as used by the brigade de cuisine from Le Manoir aux Quat'Saisons or similar. If using stock this must be made from rare-breed chicken carcases sourced from an artisanal producer at the Farmers’ Market on Notting Hill High Street, and cooked on a hob costing £10,000 or above.

- Bring it to the boil in a multi-million pound Le Creuset saucier pan and then tip in the rinsed quinoa.

- Simmer for 20 minutes. This gives you time to read a sentence of Proust or carry out some kharmic mindfulness or other sophisticated activity.

- Then remove the pan from the heat and let it stand for another 10 minutes during which period you can go out to fetch the infant Tarquin from his balalaika lesson.

- Fluff up the grains with your special Fortnum & Mason Quinoa-comb, and serve with some unpalatable, difficult to procure accompaniments which show how on-trend you are.

- Tweet about it so your public knows what refined and urbane eating habits you employ. Hashtag picture of your plate.

- Do not say grace. People like you despise Christians.

- Eat, meanwhile preening yourself because you are a complete TURKEY. Share your meal with other poseurs of your acquaintance. If possible speak French at table. 
Do not reflect that, if you weren't such a Superior Being as you are, you could be enjoying a load of tasty chips, some BACON or a Mars Bar. YOU have chosen the austere, the worthy, the wholesome path. Congratulations.



Recipes of The Times

Media Cookery Writers are silly.
Daily they demand that you make meals with ingredients you have never heard of and do not know what they i) look like, ii) taste of, iii) are, or iv) may be sourced from. Doubtless these are all REALLY expensive - of that at least you may be sure. Also cookery writers think you have nothing else to do and can therefore spend valuable drinking time shelling micro-peas / spreading pesto onto individual cashew nuts / assembling intricate insalate out of tiny fronds of rocket (which they call arugula, because that's more exclusive).

Ingredients. All your ingredients have to be obscure if you are a media cook. Here are some of the items they have called for in recent months:

Dukkah. Used as a dusting on chicken, as far as I can make out.
Freekeh. If your freekeh is cracked, you can get away with simmering it for a mere 15 minutes. Uncracked freekeh takes much longer, as does farro. Even so, you must buy your farro UNCOOKED : Never buy cooked farro or freekeh: come on, what sort of a lightweight are you? However, I remain none the wiser as to what these things are for, regardless of whether they are cracked, cooked or in any other form.
Buddha's Hand. A kind of citrus fruit which has no juice or pulp - just pith and skin. Sounds useful, doesn't it? I have no idea what desperate straits one might need to be in, to use any Buddha's hand.
Maftoul. Dear Lord! For once the cookery writer, realising that no-one would know what maftoul is, helpfully revealed that it is "similar to Sardinian fregola (Sardinian, mind. Not any old fregola) and is made of toasted semolina dough." Great. Thanks, Cookery Writer. I might have bought non-Sardinian fregola if you hadn't mentioned it. Toasted semolina dough of course is every housewife's fallback, isn't it. ('No, it isn't actually. We have never encountered it,' say the housewives)
Za’atar "Written history lacks an early definitive reference to za'atar as a spice mixture, though unidentified terms in the Yale Babylonian Collection may be references to spice blends," says Wikipedia, helpfully.

Some ingredients are Superfoods which are a deluded idea and quite wrong. Celebrities often promote these sort of crackpot manias. Superfoods are supposed to do all manner of miraculous cures if you eat them instead of proper food; but they do not. Scientists have proved it. The celebrities want you to eat prickly cactus juice, Maca powder (ground-up Peruvian radishes) and chaga fungus as these will rebalance your pH, stabilise your BP, reduce depression and PTSD, make your skin lovely and other wild and unsubstantiated claims eg. chaga fungus will cause you to be immortal, says Katy Perry, who ever she is. We have only just finished being told we must have drinks made out of blenderised kale, and THAT was bad enough. And now they say that the blendered kale was in vain. Look, health freaks, the radish powder will soon turn out to be just as useless, mark my words.

How do you even pronounce half these stupid ingredients? I mean "chorizo" FPS (for Pity's sake) is that Cheritzoh, or Korr-eye-zo, or chorrizzoh or korrizzo or WHAT? quinoa? za'atar? Come ON people. Actually I have been told many times, how to pronounce chorizo but I can never remember. It is information which the human brain can not be bothered to retain.

Even ordinary things like tomatoes are required to be rare-breed or of fanciful provenance.
This leads to preposterous announcements such as :
"Tomatoes must be heritage, and mozzarella must be buffalo." I have no idea what that means. The most desirable tomatoes are in fact heirloom but these are virtually unobtainable. Heirloom (adj.) means so scarce and expensive that they have to be inherited rather than purchased. 
"Note: if your limes are not Goan you had better leave them out altogether."
"It is imperative that any tuna be yellow-fin and longline-caught" - or you might as well forget it.
"Hand-roll the sushi" if you do not wish to suffer instant social death.

The things they expect you to do to figs are nobody's business. Really in this country if you get a decent fig you are so happy you would not dream of doing anything to it. You just eat it, and be jolly grateful. You do not fashion it at considerable length into Sweet Spiced Freekeh with Grilled Figs. Have SOME sense.

Media cooks inhabit a different gastronomic planet from normal people. Normal people need to eat cheaply and quickly without infringing on their other activities unnecessarily. Media cooks sit around thinking up ridiculous ideas and making a lot of work for their underlings and any readers foolish enough to try one of their recipes. Here are some examples:


Hangover Hash. 

Cooking time 2 hours. The writer has failed to grasp the fundamental fact about hangovers which is That They Are An EMERGENCY. One cannot simply wait TWO HOURS for help. Also the sight of a raw egg (see picture) is not beneficial.
Persons suffering from a hangover would NOT appreciate this revolting looking dish being presented to them 2 hours after their suffering began. Plenty of ibuprofen, some orange juice and a bacon sandwich, taken with a glass of claret, prescribes Dr Mel, and dose to be taken STAT immediately, not in 2 hours' time.


Friday Night Pizza. 

All you need to know about this is that the recipe begins "Make the cauliflower base". Yes! Can you imagine how nasty a pizza with a base made out of cauliflower must be? UGH. If you read further (not recommended) you will see that it also contains chia seeds, whatever they may be, and almond meal; and the finished pizza is served sprinkled with nutritional yeast flakes. Absolute purgatory.



Fresh Blueberry Fudge. 

When you peruse the recipe, you will realise this is definitely not fudge. Fudge is made of sugar, butter and milk and has to be boiled to Fudge Point. Not "place cashews in a bowl" or do anything with "rice malt syrup" as is suggested here. Good Lord. Discard.






Poached Quince and Winter Fruit in Spiced Wine. 
I hardly know where to start in describing what is wrong with this recipe. You must acquire "2 Quince". (Not quinces.) How ridiculous. The plural of quince is quinces and to suggest otherwise is to be an affected poser. I'd be jolly surprised if a quartered quince cooked in 29 mins' poaching as claimed here. What the devil kind of quinces were they using? You add some Cox's apples and some ripe pears for the last 4 minutes of poaching. This chef has never cooked Cox's apples before has he? You can tell. Then you put in some blackberries and prunes. You serve this concoction ice cold with some red wine sorbet. It sounds most unsuitable for a chilly winter evening when everyone would much rather have blackberry and apple crumble which would have been a far better use of the ingredients. N.B. Quinces and blackberries are not ripe both at the same time so this recipe was not going to work anyway. Media cooks never have a clue about what is ripe at any particular season so they are always writing recipes that are completely impossible to do.




Here is a recipe from my own recipe book. When this was invented there was MUCH derision I can tell you. My husband's contribution to world nutrition. I think it is well within the spirit of Media Cookery.
Lunatics' Beetroot.
Method:
Mix together beetroot, hardboiled egg and tomatoes (chopped). Place in a teapot. (Don't ask.)
Fry bread.
Spread the mixture from the teapot over the fried bread.

Traditionally served in the Lunatic Asylums of Gothenburg when the full moon is at perigee. 

Variations suggested by jeering members of the family : throw some muesli and plenty of salt over the dish. Aniseed balls may also be added, and shavings of hazelnut.


Actually Lunatics' Beetroot is quite good, as long as you don't add any of those toppings. Better than Friday Night Pizza anyway.


Wednesday 15 July 2015

The National Trust

The National Trust annoy me with their high-handed treatment of US - us who are their owners, if they could just bear that in mind. They charge fortunes for entry and begrudge letting you in even then; they keep wanting to sell off land that's been given to them to defend and preserve, because they can't cope on the BILLIONS of pounds they have at their disposal; and they repeatedly let places burn down due to criminal levels of carelessness, thereby depriving the nation of multiple priceless irreplaceable assets that they had been charged with looking after. They are arrogant, which they have no business to be because they are shoddy. 

A visit to Dunster Castle revealed some prime examples indicating the shocking state of the National Trust. First we were accosted by a hostile old lady who demanded to see our tickets, as though we were sneaking in without paying - but we were only going in to the GROUNDS, and why should we pay for that? My husband has a Life Membership Card anyway and that entitles him and guest to get in free which the old lady did not believe and he had to speak quite sternly to her and tell her she must look it up on the internet. It is as well to maintain an air of authority on these occasions. Do not be cowed by the minions. I was only sorry he did not claim to be Goat Luttrell (previous owner of D Castle) and that he would buy this place and install a jukebox.

We went on, and were soon stopped by another fierce unwelcoming harridan at another machine gun post, demanding to see our tickets again. We showed the trout, and told her we'd already been checked. She retorted that there are "hundreds of places where they (sic) can get in" which nicely demonstrated that the National Trust's corporate hostility to the people they are supposed to serve is both strong and diligent.
National Trust Border Guards in action. 

Victim of difficult new stairs
The next annoying thing was that they have got a long stairway of wrongly-sized steps incompatible with legs of normal human length. The steps were recently installed at great expense, and who ever designed them has obviously never walked on stairs in his life. Presumably it was someone on the committee's brother/nephew/godchild; it definitely was not any graduate of the Royal College of Staircase Design, or even any pupil in their Kindergarten.


Then there was a silly map pointing the wrong way. North was indicated towards due West. Fools. And it takes them a whole year to put in a few herbaceous perennials. Work did not seem to be progressing very successfully either if I may say so. It was a proper mess, such as one can see in many a garden without paying entry fees of £7.50 per person.




There were haughty 'Private' notices everywhere, forbidding the nasty unwanted visitors to have access to any of the most interesting-looking places. Really who do these people think they are? They would do well to remember that these places are the property of the nation, i.e. the general public, whom they clearly much despise. 

We declined to take tea as it was being served in polystyrene cups which are most disagreeable to drink out of. At the prices on show one would expect Ming at the least.






There were some quite nice flowers out in the gardens, I will give it that, and charming views, but you can get these anywhere.


















They had let in some pretty girls, which pleased all the men but annoyed me. Here they are (right). Out you go, Girls.

There were tractors, strimmers and chainsaws loudly at work all over the place which detracted from everyone's enjoyment so the fee for entry ought to have been waived anyway.
Also they are idiotically resurfacing the car park. Why they need to do it at all I can not imagine, and certainly not in the middle of the busy season. Again, "Fools". The car park was fine before, and what they really needed to do was sort out the utterly STUPID road in and out of the car park which is long and single lane but serves for both coming in and going out. Given that the majority of National Trust visitors are aged approx. 90 and suffer from degenerative neck problems so they can't reverse this road is completely useless for the purpose.

On our way out that Miss Blennerhasset woman who had first tried to keep us out bestowed upon me a final vindictive glare.

The last view we had of Dunster was this - an officious National Trust official raking in the cash from the extortionate parking fees. 

Humourless, ungenerous and grasping, I'd say of the whole Dunster ethos. Not a rewarding experience for the visitor.