Never again. And that's not a new year resolution but a cast iron promise. HNY BTW. The end of Christmas day having consumed enough bubbly to kill a grizzly bear is not, repeat not, the time to make generous but ultimately foolish gestures like "Say what - I'll cook Cuisse de Canard for everyone on New Years Eve". Everyone meaning dinner for ten.
First, catch your duck legs. There was no Harrods or Fortnum and Masons bat a trawl around all of the butchers of York finally yielded success. As my mum often says "Its always in the last place you look". Mind you, I foiled her once long ago by continuing looking for something after I'd found it just to prove her wrong.
OK so we've got 10 Gressingham Duck Legs and the goose fat left over from Christmas's cookery extravaganza. That'll be enough, surely. Surely! Er, nope. A phone around of all the supermarkets in Newcastle-Under-Lyme (for thence we had migrated by this time) found six pots of Goose Fat at two quid a throw. Super.
Now cover the legs with the fat and bring it to simmering point (180 degrees on mum's Chrissie present meat probe) and then into the oven for 2 hours at 140. Now, in my mind that is two hours where I can pootle off and play Munchkin (Chrissie present) with bruv and his eldest. Doooom. Evidently if 180 is simmering point on the hob then 140 in the oven is boiling point (???) for when I returned the oil was merrily blooping away and had reduced by a quarter, exposing the upper legs and causing them to bake.
Whilst that is cooling off, I get all the vegibules sorted out. Flageolets and two types of cabbage - Savoy and Summat Nero. Then to fry off the legs three minutes each side and serve. Easy? Peasy? Unfeasy, ackcherly, darling. The things are so tender from being boiled in oil that they fall to pieces in the pan, and only two fit in the pan at one time anyway. This means that two people get their dinner every six minutes. So me and me bruv sit down for ours nearly half an hour after the first have started.
Conclusions:
1. Duck legs are expensive
2. Goose fat is expensive
3. Goose fat simmering point is hard to judge so you will have to spend 2 hours gazing into the oven and adjusting the temerature on a second by second basis
4. Never again!
Cheers chums,
Mikey
Sunday, 2 January 2011
Sunday, 19 December 2010
The Joy of Secs
For me, home and dry is the where and what of white wine drinking. Or ""Chez Nous Et Sec" as my friend Mike Holloway would say. Be it still or sparkling, Sec, Brut, Extra Brut or just Dry (but not Trocken) you can pretty much guarantee that it will go down well at Casa Tebs. And the same goes for the pink stuff too.
Now one of the top maisons in Beaujolais is Louis Jadot and they have been churning out fabulous red and white wines for generations. But being well established doesn't necessarily mean entrenched, and their marketing folk must have been watching the UK wine consumption trends. Since the turn of the millennium, the market here for rosé wine has rocketed. And this week, for the first time, I tried Louis Jadot's rosé beaujolais. And how wonderful it was too. Shame I only bought one bottle. Mind you, at £9 it is probably not in everybody's price range. Nestling up next to it on the same shelf I found a pink Sancerre which was also stunning (though a pound dearer).
The rise in pinks has not been restricted to just the still wines either. Time was that you would only find a pink shampoo in your local supermarket at Christmas whereas my local Tescos now has a section dedicated to pink fizz. The Freixenet vintage is often on offer at £6 which is a total bargain. And not just sparklies either because across the aisle I found Croft Pink Port. Now we always have a bottle of white port in the fridge during the festive season (it actually tastes of Christmas) but once I can establish a reliable source of Croft Pink I can assure you I will have a bottle of that chilling all year round (not one bottle for the whole year you understand). Maybe I will have to resurrect an old adventure...
Twas the year 2000. The new millenium celebrations had died down and the Y2K end of the world scenario had failed to show its ugly head. It was our first holiday in Sardinia. We had found a fabulous restaurant by the sea shore and were having pre-prandial drinkies by the pool. I asked for a dry sparkling wine and we were duly served a bottle of ice cold Incrocio Manzoni spumante (brut). I was so impressed that I peeled off the label and ordered a second. Our ever-so-attentive head waiter suggested a different one from the same cantina so our second was Verdiso Silver (extra brut) which was also amazing.
Back home I tried to find a supplier for these nectars, but the closest I could find was in Holland. What to do? The obvious - we had to go back to Italy and get more. The little information I could glean from the label was that it came from Northern Italy and the internet yielded nothing (in English anyway - I later found their website in Italian) so I booked a week on Lake Garda. Whilst we toured the lake and had fun our ever-so-attentive hotel owner took my preserved label and made some enquiries. By the end of the week we had an address but insufficient time to visit.
Back home again I wrote to the cantina and arranged a third holiday, this time in Venice (famous for having nearly as many miles of canals as Birmingham) and a tour of the winery (they don't actually do tours normally but the ever-so-attentive general manager said he would take us round himself). It was an amazing state of the science set up - all chrome and pipes and dials and stuff. Finishing the tour I came to the point. "I would like to buy some wine" "Sure, how many bottles?" "Four cases" "Sorry Sir, but we only sell a minimum of a pallet and one pallet holds 800 bottles" "Ah". Well he gave us four bottles for our interest and I went back to Venice and sulked on the Lido for the rest of the week.
Back home yet again, the calculator was out - cost of a pallet of wine plus van hire plus ferry crossings plus diesel. Out of the question. What to do? Buy even more! A specialist wine shipper in Felixstowe had a very reasonable price from Veneto to Northampton for a minimum quantity of 2000 bottles! Woohoo! And friends Rob and Sally (who were with us in Sardinia and wanted some for themselves) had garage space for storage. The rest is history - I managed to sell most and drink the rest (over three years) and only made a small loss overall.
Cheers!
Mikey
Now one of the top maisons in Beaujolais is Louis Jadot and they have been churning out fabulous red and white wines for generations. But being well established doesn't necessarily mean entrenched, and their marketing folk must have been watching the UK wine consumption trends. Since the turn of the millennium, the market here for rosé wine has rocketed. And this week, for the first time, I tried Louis Jadot's rosé beaujolais. And how wonderful it was too. Shame I only bought one bottle. Mind you, at £9 it is probably not in everybody's price range. Nestling up next to it on the same shelf I found a pink Sancerre which was also stunning (though a pound dearer).
The rise in pinks has not been restricted to just the still wines either. Time was that you would only find a pink shampoo in your local supermarket at Christmas whereas my local Tescos now has a section dedicated to pink fizz. The Freixenet vintage is often on offer at £6 which is a total bargain. And not just sparklies either because across the aisle I found Croft Pink Port. Now we always have a bottle of white port in the fridge during the festive season (it actually tastes of Christmas) but once I can establish a reliable source of Croft Pink I can assure you I will have a bottle of that chilling all year round (not one bottle for the whole year you understand). Maybe I will have to resurrect an old adventure...
Twas the year 2000. The new millenium celebrations had died down and the Y2K end of the world scenario had failed to show its ugly head. It was our first holiday in Sardinia. We had found a fabulous restaurant by the sea shore and were having pre-prandial drinkies by the pool. I asked for a dry sparkling wine and we were duly served a bottle of ice cold Incrocio Manzoni spumante (brut). I was so impressed that I peeled off the label and ordered a second. Our ever-so-attentive head waiter suggested a different one from the same cantina so our second was Verdiso Silver (extra brut) which was also amazing.
Back home I tried to find a supplier for these nectars, but the closest I could find was in Holland. What to do? The obvious - we had to go back to Italy and get more. The little information I could glean from the label was that it came from Northern Italy and the internet yielded nothing (in English anyway - I later found their website in Italian) so I booked a week on Lake Garda. Whilst we toured the lake and had fun our ever-so-attentive hotel owner took my preserved label and made some enquiries. By the end of the week we had an address but insufficient time to visit.
Back home again I wrote to the cantina and arranged a third holiday, this time in Venice (famous for having nearly as many miles of canals as Birmingham) and a tour of the winery (they don't actually do tours normally but the ever-so-attentive general manager said he would take us round himself). It was an amazing state of the science set up - all chrome and pipes and dials and stuff. Finishing the tour I came to the point. "I would like to buy some wine" "Sure, how many bottles?" "Four cases" "Sorry Sir, but we only sell a minimum of a pallet and one pallet holds 800 bottles" "Ah". Well he gave us four bottles for our interest and I went back to Venice and sulked on the Lido for the rest of the week.
Back home yet again, the calculator was out - cost of a pallet of wine plus van hire plus ferry crossings plus diesel. Out of the question. What to do? Buy even more! A specialist wine shipper in Felixstowe had a very reasonable price from Veneto to Northampton for a minimum quantity of 2000 bottles! Woohoo! And friends Rob and Sally (who were with us in Sardinia and wanted some for themselves) had garage space for storage. The rest is history - I managed to sell most and drink the rest (over three years) and only made a small loss overall.
Cheers!
Mikey
Tuesday, 14 December 2010
Moneybags
Near to Skipton, there is a little village called Hetton, home to the Angel Inn, a gastropub of some reknown. Thirty miles East from here, near to Knaresborough, there is a little village called Ferrensby, home to The General Tarleton Inn, similarly reknowned. The two have a number of things that connect them. For example, the owners of the Angel used to be part owners of the GT which is now wholely owned by the ex-Head Chef of the Angel. Another is that on both of their menus they have a starter called Moneybags.
My brother-in-law, Eric, is one of the chefs at the Angel and we once celebrated his birthday at the General Tarleton where a number of us opted for the Moneybags. They were absolutely exquisite. Crisp filo parcels of seafood sitting in a pool of golden lobster sauce. It was these that I tried to recreate at our recent dinner party with a few helpful hints from Eric who has prepared "literally thousands of them".
Let's get it straight here. I am no chef. I just like pootling around in the kitchen. Thus, anything I was going to produce was always going to be a shadow of the real stuff. That said, it did turn out pretty well, and our guests asked me for the recipe. Here it is. The cheat version that is. To serve 4.
The Parcels:
4 Squares of Filo Pastry
3oz Salmon
3oz Cod
4 Jumbo King Prawns
2 Scallops
Tarragon
Chives
The Sauce:
1/2 Can Lobster Bisque
1/2 Pot Single Cream
Par boil a few chives. This makes them pliable but still reasonably strong. These will be your moneybag drawstrings.
Cut each of the fish into eight cubes, and the prawns and scallops in half. Divide them four ways, mix in a bit of tarragon and place into the centre of each of the filo squares.
For each parcel, gather together the corners of the filo and squeeze it together just above the seafood. Take a chive and tie the parcel shut. Tidy up the top by snipping off excess pastry.
Place the parcels on a greased baking tray at Gas Mark 5 for about 10 minutes when they should be nice and golden brown.
Meanwhile mix the Bisque and Cream and bring to simmering point.
Place each Moneybag in the centre of a sideplate and surround with a pool of the sauce.
Serve.
My brother-in-law, Eric, is one of the chefs at the Angel and we once celebrated his birthday at the General Tarleton where a number of us opted for the Moneybags. They were absolutely exquisite. Crisp filo parcels of seafood sitting in a pool of golden lobster sauce. It was these that I tried to recreate at our recent dinner party with a few helpful hints from Eric who has prepared "literally thousands of them".
Let's get it straight here. I am no chef. I just like pootling around in the kitchen. Thus, anything I was going to produce was always going to be a shadow of the real stuff. That said, it did turn out pretty well, and our guests asked me for the recipe. Here it is. The cheat version that is. To serve 4.
The Parcels:
4 Squares of Filo Pastry
3oz Salmon
3oz Cod
4 Jumbo King Prawns
2 Scallops
Tarragon
Chives
The Sauce:
1/2 Can Lobster Bisque
1/2 Pot Single Cream
Par boil a few chives. This makes them pliable but still reasonably strong. These will be your moneybag drawstrings.
Cut each of the fish into eight cubes, and the prawns and scallops in half. Divide them four ways, mix in a bit of tarragon and place into the centre of each of the filo squares.
For each parcel, gather together the corners of the filo and squeeze it together just above the seafood. Take a chive and tie the parcel shut. Tidy up the top by snipping off excess pastry.
Place the parcels on a greased baking tray at Gas Mark 5 for about 10 minutes when they should be nice and golden brown.
Meanwhile mix the Bisque and Cream and bring to simmering point.
Place each Moneybag in the centre of a sideplate and surround with a pool of the sauce.
Serve.
Friday, 10 December 2010
Wedding Soup
Eeh, you learn something new every day. Today, amongst other things, I learnt that Italian Wedding Soup is not served at Italian weddings.
Now why would that crop up on an otherwise slow Friday?
Well, a recipe (Moneybags) I was cooking for a dinner party called for Lobster Bisque as a base for the sauce. Rather than go and buy lobsters and all the faff of making the bisque myself I decided to cheat and turn to Baxter's Luxury Lobster Bisque (crys of Boo from the audience). Whilst searching for a tin of said I stumbled upon a tin of Baxter's Deli Inspired Italian Wedding Soup (not literally - it was on a shelf). Never heard of it so thought I'd try it. The seemingly endless list of ingredients include pasta, meatballs, 6 vegetables, celery, peppers, tomatoes and 7 herbs and spices.
That was lunch today and I must say it was yummy. However, as it was slightly lacking in size and quantity of the meatballs (pork and chicken) I thought that I should try to find a recipe so I could make it myself.
Google and Cha-ching.
The real name of the soup is Minestra Maritata, which can indeed be translated as Wedding Soup. However, as I discovered from Kyle Philips, the wedding involved is the marriage of vegetables with meats. His recipe has somewhat different ingredients from the Baxter's so I might try using his recipe (minus the lard) but with their ingredients.
Need to invite someone else round for dinner then. Volunteers?
Cheers,
Mikey
Now why would that crop up on an otherwise slow Friday?
Well, a recipe (Moneybags) I was cooking for a dinner party called for Lobster Bisque as a base for the sauce. Rather than go and buy lobsters and all the faff of making the bisque myself I decided to cheat and turn to Baxter's Luxury Lobster Bisque (crys of Boo from the audience). Whilst searching for a tin of said I stumbled upon a tin of Baxter's Deli Inspired Italian Wedding Soup (not literally - it was on a shelf). Never heard of it so thought I'd try it. The seemingly endless list of ingredients include pasta, meatballs, 6 vegetables, celery, peppers, tomatoes and 7 herbs and spices.
That was lunch today and I must say it was yummy. However, as it was slightly lacking in size and quantity of the meatballs (pork and chicken) I thought that I should try to find a recipe so I could make it myself.
Google and Cha-ching.
The real name of the soup is Minestra Maritata, which can indeed be translated as Wedding Soup. However, as I discovered from Kyle Philips, the wedding involved is the marriage of vegetables with meats. His recipe has somewhat different ingredients from the Baxter's so I might try using his recipe (minus the lard) but with their ingredients.
Need to invite someone else round for dinner then. Volunteers?
Cheers,
Mikey
Thursday, 9 December 2010
Newbie Blogger
A wise and successful person told me, "To be successful in the modern world, you must have a web presence." Trite? Easy to say? Possibly. True? Probably. He is after all wise and successful and has web presence. And so I turn my hand to blogging. Not that I am UNsuccessful, just maybe could be more so.
To be a followed blogger, I guess I should really have a message I'm trying to impart so that a section of society will connect with me.
I haven't. No agenda whatsoever.
Just taking an opportunity to pass on observations, stick words into new and interesting sequences and hopefully make somebody smile.
I am excited. 10 years ago I was told, "You have Glaucoma. There is no cure - just eyedrops daily for the rest of your life." I'll admit I cried. Don't like pills & potions. HOWEVER, I just got my appointment notification for Selective Laser Trabeculoplasty for the 20th Dec. No more drops! Callooh! Callay! I'll let you know how it goes.
Coo, is that the time? Got a meeting. Must dash.
Cheers chums,
Mikey
To be a followed blogger, I guess I should really have a message I'm trying to impart so that a section of society will connect with me.
I haven't. No agenda whatsoever.
Just taking an opportunity to pass on observations, stick words into new and interesting sequences and hopefully make somebody smile.
I am excited. 10 years ago I was told, "You have Glaucoma. There is no cure - just eyedrops daily for the rest of your life." I'll admit I cried. Don't like pills & potions. HOWEVER, I just got my appointment notification for Selective Laser Trabeculoplasty for the 20th Dec. No more drops! Callooh! Callay! I'll let you know how it goes.
Coo, is that the time? Got a meeting. Must dash.
Cheers chums,
Mikey
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