Category Archives: Savoury

Oatcakes and small lazy animals

Bossy is currently embracing her inner sloth (her excuse is that she has the flu). I would like to say it makes for a peaceful house, but I’d be lying. She screamed at the Tallish One (you may remember I can’t call him The Tall One anymore because The Noisy One has overtaken him by 10cm) this morning to ‘call the  doctor and order him to get rid of this f**king bullshit virus’. So that was reasonable; silent, or even gracious, she is not. Apparently she has very low blood pressure (not that you notice, mind you), which gets worse when she’s ill, which amusingly enough means that when she tries to stand up she collapses. This has the advantage of shutting her up momentarily, although it doesn’t make her any less stroppy. I wouldn’t like for her to actually hurt herself collapsing (she has quite a lot of form with collapsing and broken bones), but needs must.

It is a well-known fact that when you’re ill, you need a sturdy dog to sit on your feet to keep you warm (and give you pins and needles and cramp). As I’m sure you’re all aware, I take my duties very seriously and carry out this role to the fullest, however time-consuming and unpleasant it may be. The trouble is, Java thinks it might be her duty too (when it suits her and when she’s not off doing things of little consequence). This means that we both end up sitting on Bossy who gets thoroughly overheated and panicky and red in the face and I have to throw Java off and we all end up in a growling, feverish heap on the floor. I’m absolutely wrung out; I hope we’re back to business as usual soon because this flu malarky is getting on my nerves.

Oats contain beta glucans which are very beneficial for the immune system (ha!)

Ingredients (makes about 12 oatcakes)

225g rolled oats

60g chickpea flour (or any other flour)

1/2 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda

60ml olive oil

Large pinch of salt

80ml hot water

Preheat the oven to 190°C. Combine the oats, flour, bicarbonate of soda, olive oil and salt well and then gradually add the hot water until you have a thick doughy mixture. Roll out the mixture and use a cookie cutter (or upturned glass) to make the cakes. Place the cakes on a greased baking tray and bake for 20 minutes or until golden brown. Leave to cool.

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The perfect omelette

I managed to live for over half a century without knowing how to cook an omelette properly. Or at least in a way that avoided husband and son sharing eye rolls and ostentatious dry heaves.

Speaking of exasperation, there are a few culinary fads that really boil my noodle: egg white omelettes (just eat the whole egg or go for the polystyrene option) and spiralised ‘spaghetti’ vegetables (eat spaghetti or eat vegetables, both if you really want to push the boat out, but don’t eat ‘pretend’ food unless you’re a toddler; exactly how idiotic do you think your taste buds are?)

Back to The Omelette. There used to be a restaurant, l’Hôtel de la Tête d’Or, on the Mont St Michel in Normandy, which was famous for its omelette. The owner of the hotel, Madame Poulard, attracted tourists from all over, and although there was much speculation about her secret recipe, she always stayed circumspect. I suspect that her secret had more to do with hardware and impeccable timing than the actual ingredients, although apparently we will never know. 

In any case, the simplest dishes are often the most delicious, but also the most difficult to get right. During my years of blissful ignorance, I used to beat the eggs a bit, add a touch of seasoning and then fry until most of the runniness was gone. They used to taste OK, although they sometimes looked as if I’d finished them off in the tumble dryer.

In my naivety I didn’t realise that in fact you have to go all sado-masochistic on the poor eggs, furiously beating and whipping them into complete submission.  You then have to pitch them, molecules awhirl, from across the room into a blazing furnace of a pan for mere seconds, until the outside is seared and the inside still runny. The experience is athletic, stressful, and affirmative.

As the saying goes, you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs, sweating profusely, hyperventilating, F-bombing anyone and anything in your way and setting off the smoke alarm…

Ingredients (serves 1)

knob of butter

2 fresh free-range eggs

Sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper

Melt the butter in a flat-bottomed frying pan over a high heat. Beat the seasoned eggs very fast until they become frothy. Throw the still-frothy mixture into the pan immediately and sear. Fold the omelette in half while the top is still runny. Serve! And breathe…

 

Smoked mackerel pâté and broken


We have broken our cleaning lady. Or to be more exact, the dogs have broken her. She’s never been their biggest fan; she believes that a dog’s place is outside and silent at all times. Personality and opinions, particularly dogmatic ones, should not be tolerated. If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you’ll know that this just isn’t how we roll with Hugo and Java. Or at least, it isn’t how Hugo and Java roll with us.

I do see that it must be frustrating for her, especially when all the dogs within a two kilometre radius rock up for a ‘social’ when she’s trying to hose down the floors. They seem to sense the optimal impact moment to put in an appearance. And, in fairness, I do always say that cleaning our house is a bit like mucking out a stable. Anyway, this morning the hounds outdid themselves. The mild weather meant that the windows were open and Java, terrified witless by the vacuum cleaner, kept jumping out of the window, spent just enough time outside to dirty her feet and returned into the house through the front door. Ad infinitum. Hugo, who had been invited (you don’t give Hugo orders; you make suggestions) to stay outside in a bid to reduce the carbon paw print, availed himself of the open window in the other direction to come back into the house (filthy paws and all) in order to launch a vicious assault on his long-standing nemesis, the hoover.

Happily, I wasn’t there this morning to witness this outrageous exhibition of doggie hooliganism. I did come back in time to be greeted by two manic, crack cocaine-smoking dogs and Luc administering medicinal Armagnac to treat the cleaning lady’s shattered nerves.

Ingredients (serves 6)

400g smoked mackerel, skin removed

1 ripe avocado

2 shallots, peeled

1 clove of garlic, peeled

Juice of 1 lemon

1 tablespoon olive oil

4 tablespoons horseradish

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 teaspoon paprika

Place all the ingredients in a food processor and combine until smooth. Chill for at least two hours and serve with either crispy French bread or raw vegetables (carrots, celery, fennel…)

Chicken soup and unruly hair

My hair is a free-for-all, to be chewed on, judged and discussed without compunction or reserve. I’m asked on a regular basis if it’s natural (because you think I would I chose it?), if it’s wet, if it’s dry, if it’s just been to the hairdresser and if it hasn’t. In some parts of the world, people come and stroke it like a strange woolly pet. A rather uncharming old lady who lives nearby actually uses the word ‘mop’ when referring to it, which she does every time I see her. And Luc said the other day ‘it just really suits you – it’s chaotic’. This was meant as a compliment (wtf?). The assistant in a posh haircare shop not long ago suggested, without a hint of irony, that I could ‘always try using a comb’ when I asked for advice on how to tame it. And to add insult to injury, Hugo chews on it in much the same way that he chews on Java’s ears.

A number of studies have been conducted on the usefulness of chicken soup (aka Jewish penicillin) in warding off and treating cold and flu viruses. It appears that the soup inhibits the movement of neutrophils, the most common type of white blood cell that defends against infection. The theory is, that by inhibiting the migration of these infection-fighting cells in the body, chicken soup essentially helps reduce upper respiratory cold symptoms by reducing inflammation.

The researchers couldn’t identify the exact ingredient or ingredients in the soup that made it effective against colds but say it may be the combination of vegetables and chicken that work together.

Make what you will of the research, but at the very least, chicken soup with vegetables contains lots of healthy nutrients, is easy to digest, increases hydration and tastes delicious.

Ingredients

1 tablespoon olive oil

2 onions, peeled and chopped

2 shallots, peeled and chopped

3 cloves of garlic, crushed

2 leeks, washed and cut into rounds

1 fennel bulb, washed and cut

1/2 butternut squash, peeled and cut into cubes

4 carrots, peeled and cut

200g cabbage, shredded

1 red pepper or chilli pepper, cut into strips

2 sprigs of thyme

1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated

2 teaspoons turmeric

1.5 litres chicken stock

2 tablespoons Pernod (optional)

300g pre-roasted chicken, skin removed and shredded

100g frozen peas

2 serving of pre-cooked brown rice

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Gently brown the onions, shallots, garlic and leeks in the olive oil in a large saucepan or casserole dish. Once browed, add the fennel, butternut squash, carrots, cabbage and chilli pepper and continue to cook for a few minutes. Add the thyme, ginger, turmeric, chicken stock and Pernod and bring to a simmer. Once the vegetables are almost cooked, add the chicken and frozen peas and continue to cook for another ten minutes. Add the brown rice towards the end of cooking, season with the salt and pepper and serve piping hot.

 

Kale crisps, obscenities and dog-shaped holes

The Tallish One (I had to rename The Tall One as The Noisy One is now a good 4cms taller) and I have decided that Bossy is a bad influence on animals and also, I suspect, small children. She and Noisy went to London last week and, while she was gone, everyone, even Java, fell into line. Relatively speaking of course. Even the horses were less tiresome than usual. Animals really do have a sixth sense for authority; The Tallish One has it, Bossy just doesn’t. She makes a mean kale crisp though, so I think we’re going to hang on to her for the moment.

Bossy hadn’t been on UK soil for more than half and hour before having an almighty ding-dong with a traffic warden (apparently something to do with her being a ‘toxic tyrannical tw@t’). So much so that the traffic warden ran after her yelling ‘don’t you dare walk away while I’m reprimanding you’. If you know Bossy, you can imagine how well that went down. The thing is, Bossy swears a lot. It’s actually one of the few things she’s really good at; I would probably go as far as to say she’s a Master of Blasphemy. She’s also got quite a talent for really pissing people off. Anyway, if you want to learn to eff and blind in English or French, Bossy’s your girl.

In other news, we found a Java-shaped hole in the wisteria canopy under Léo’s first-floor bedroom window, and a rather bemused Java shaking herself off on the ground beneath. I feel certain that Bossy must be to blame in some way – I’m just not sure how yet.

One thing is sure: kale is so full of goodness that if it could talk, it certainly wouldn’t swear. As a vegetable it is a bit of an overachiever with its protein, fibre, vitamins A, C, K and B vitamins. It also contains minerals – potassium, calcium and zinc as well as omega 3, lutein and zeaxanthin.

Ingredients

200g kale, rinsed and cut into strips, large stems removed

1 tablespoon olive oil

Sea salt, freshly ground black pepper

Espelette pepper or paprika

Preheat the oven to 150°C. Put the kale in a large bowl and add the oil. Massage it into the leaves, then toss with the seasoning. Spread out in a single layer on two large baking trays and bake for about 20 minutes, checking from time to time that it is cooking evenly. Leave to cool and eat!

Beef Rendang and pernickety males

I inadvertently surround myself by fussy men. My father was very tricky to buy presents for, and I always ended up buying him books which was an interesting challenge. Well-written, knowledgeable, lively, original and slightly wry biographies about Winston Churchill or Napoleon were usually a good bet, and most things by Philip Roth or Ian McEwan usually passed muster. Books that tried to be too witty or too clever would be cast aside in disgust, as were novels by PD James who never ‘got to the bloody point’ quickly enough. It was with great sadness that I recently saw there was a new Churchill biography out because I’ll never know what he thought of it.

Luc and Léo are inordinately difficult to shop for because they’re both strangely obsessed with the weight of all shoes and clothing. Léo also has an aversion to pink, yellow and anything patterned. And not only must everything be feather-light, any zips or buttons must be ultra rapid to avoid, god forbid, slowing him down. Luc is a big fan of parachute silk and doesn’t care if his clothes make him look like gay Hawaiian televangelist, as long as they’re diaphanous. Mon dieu!

But it is Hugo that takes the biscuit (unless they’re dog biscuits which he spits out). His bedding is a source of sleepless nights for everybody. We are currently testing bed number four as the first three were not to his liking, which he made very clear. I do understand because I’ve had unpleasant experiences at times with uncomfortable bedding, but I don’t show my exasperation by growling and huffing and puffing all night.

Little Java is a breath of fresh air. Although I suspect she must have a preference for cashmere cushions (who wouldn’t?), she sleeps anywhere and on anything. She also eats absolutely everything (including dressed salad, mustard and melon, which, as dog owners will know, is incredibly random). There is literally nothing that makes her unhappy. Except gunfire; gunfire unhinges her, which is ironic as she was born and bred to be a gundog…

Ingredients (serves 4)

1 onion, peeled and  chopped

5 shallots, peeled and chopped

4 cloves garlic

1 stalk lemongrass, chopped

1 teaspoon turmeric (or fresh turmeric, grated)

4 fresh chillis, washed and chopped

1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated

600g braising steak, cubed

2 tablespoons coconut oil

1 cinnamon stick

6 cardamon pods

4 kaffir lime leaves

500ml coconut milk

1 lime, juiced

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Place the onion, shallots, garlic, lemongrass, turmeric and chills into a food processor and blend to obtain a smooth paste. Add the meat to the paste, mixing well and leave to marinate in the fridge for at least a few hours. Heat the coconut oil in a casserole dish and fry the meat/paste mixture for a few minutes until well browned. Add the cinnamon stick, the cardamon (releasing the seeds from the pods beforehand) and the kaffir leaves.  Add the coconut milk, lime juice and seasoning and bring to a gentle simmer. Cook for about an hour and a half, stirring frequently. The meat should be tender and the sauce reduced and rich.

REBLOG: Cannabis and Me: Breaking the Law to Live

Something beginning with C

skynews-cannabis-cbd_4340071I have just celebrated the second anniversary of the day I almost died.

But I didn’t.

I have also just passed the two-year mark from the day on which I received a diagnosis of stage 4 lung cancer.

And last week, the long-awaited scan results from the first phase of the trial I am on, have come back with the encouraging news that, currently, the cancer is stable.

The celebration is muted, one of relief rather than champagne and fireworks. But it is without doubt the most positive news to come my way in almost a year.

So what does this mean? Quite simply it means Hope. It means that I can remain on the trial for now, until the next scan is performed in six weeks’ time, and the cycle of anxiety once again cranks into motion and I brace myself for the frightening possibility of the tug of…

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