Tuesday was Mr GG’s birthday so I had to make him a cake didn’t I?
After disregarding the information from our four-year-old that: “Daddy wants a chocolate cake in the shape of a snowboard on a rollerblade with sprinkles on top,” I set to work on Monday night to assemble the chocolate cake to beat all chocolate cakes.
Yes it was rich, yes there were probably 20,000 calories per slice, but hey – that’s what birthdays are for.
The finished construction was a two-layered chocolate gateaux, consisting of layers of death by chocolate sponge and a rich chocolate mousse, decorated with chocolate shavings, chocolate vermicelli and chocolate drops.
How disappointed was I when he took the leftovers into work today!
Death-by-chocolate gateaux
Buy it:
250g plain flour
50g the best cocoa powder (I use Green and Blacks)
1 mug boiling water
½ lemon
150g margarine or butter
200g golden caster sugar
1tsp baking powder
2 room temperature eggs
150ml double cream
150g marshmallows
300g dark chocolate, chopped (80 per cent cocoa is good)
A knob of butter
Chocolate decorations
Do it:
1. Pre-heat the oven to 190c and grease two 22cm sandwich tins.
2. Cream together the butter and sugar and then add the flour, cocoa and baking powder and mix.
3. Pour on the boiled water and lemon juice and mix.
4. Add the eggs and mix.
5. Pour the mixture equally between the sandwich tins and place in the middle of the oven for 30 minutes until the sponge springs back when pressed. Leave to cool completely
6. Make the mousse by melting the marshmallows and double cream on a low heat with the butter. When the marshmallows have melted take the mixture off the heat and add the chopped chocolate. Stir until smooth and allow to cool. Then, whisk with an electric handmixer until thickened and let the mixture set in the fridge.
7. Sandwich the cooled cakes together with the mousse and cover the top and sides with the mixture too.
8. Decorate with your choice of chocolates and decorations.
Wednesday 28 April 2010
Oven-baked tomato soup and spicy bread
I had a little bit of a thing for cornbread last week – I think it’s because I wolfed down a shedload on our picnic last weekend.
So on Friday night I whipped some up and served with an oven-baked soup. Yes, that does sound strange, but with my hubby jumping up and down like an over-sugared toddler at the news that I’ve booked for him to go away fishing this weekend as a birthday treat, and making me help him lug various pieces of equipment from the back of the shed, I didn’t have time to stir anything.
Starting soup off in the oven also gives it a smokey and caramelised flavour.
Chilli cheesy cornbread
200g self-raising flour
200g polenta (I use Merchant Gourmet as it is nice and fine)
200ml milk with a squeeze of lemon juice
1 egg
A big handful of strong cheese
1tsp freshly chopped oregano
1 green chilli finely chopped
1/2tsp salt
Do it: Mix all of the ingredients together and place in a 23cm square tin that's been oiled. Bake at 200c for 30 minutes until spongy.
Oven-baked tomato soup
2 cloves garlic
1 tin chopped tomatoes
1 small onion halved
1tbsp olive oil
1/4tsp dried thyme
1 vegi stock cube
Black pepper
1/2tsp sugar
1tsp balsamic vinegar
Do it: Simply place all of the ingredients in the oven and roast at 180c for an hour. Add a pint of boiling water and blitz the lot with a hand blender or in a blender. Serve.
So on Friday night I whipped some up and served with an oven-baked soup. Yes, that does sound strange, but with my hubby jumping up and down like an over-sugared toddler at the news that I’ve booked for him to go away fishing this weekend as a birthday treat, and making me help him lug various pieces of equipment from the back of the shed, I didn’t have time to stir anything.
Starting soup off in the oven also gives it a smokey and caramelised flavour.
Chilli cheesy cornbread
200g self-raising flour
200g polenta (I use Merchant Gourmet as it is nice and fine)
200ml milk with a squeeze of lemon juice
1 egg
A big handful of strong cheese
1tsp freshly chopped oregano
1 green chilli finely chopped
1/2tsp salt
Do it: Mix all of the ingredients together and place in a 23cm square tin that's been oiled. Bake at 200c for 30 minutes until spongy.
Oven-baked tomato soup
2 cloves garlic
1 tin chopped tomatoes
1 small onion halved
1tbsp olive oil
1/4tsp dried thyme
1 vegi stock cube
Black pepper
1/2tsp sugar
1tsp balsamic vinegar
Do it: Simply place all of the ingredients in the oven and roast at 180c for an hour. Add a pint of boiling water and blitz the lot with a hand blender or in a blender. Serve.
Meataballas
Dinner on Saturday didn’t exactly go as planned. I felt quite smug in the morning, having planned a week’s worth of versatile and healthy suppers.
But I forgot to buy more of one vital ingredient – garlic!
This is the culinary equivalent of cutting of a cook’s left arm. Garlic is the savoury, sweet base to so many foods that to be without it is to have no soul in your cooking – there will always be something missing.
Saturday's delight was supposed to be light meatballs in a smoky tomato and chipotle sauce, but without my pal garlic I didn’t have the heart to prepare a tomato sauce.
However I did have to do something with the meat (prime steak mince) so I decided to take my meatballs down a Scandinavian/Italian route.
I started off by making some herby Italianate meatballs (minus the lemon zest and chilli I normally add to them) and whipped up a Scandi-style gravy, a bit like the sauce that would usually accompany Swedish meatballs.
Served with white rice and a bowl of peas, this ended-up be really quite nice. But I am still hampering for that garlicky, smoky chilli and tomato sauce. Perhaps it will appear later in the week.
Scandi/Italian meatballs
500g steak mince (or the best mince you can afford)
1tsp fresh thyme and oregano (or ½ tsp each dried)
A handful of grated cheese
1/2tsp allspice
1/2tsp salt
A few grinds of black pepper
1/4tsp cayenne pepper
2 slices of brown bread
50ml single cream
Do it: Place all of the ingredients in a blender and mix to a thick paste. Put 2tsbps of oil into a large frying pan and gently saute the meatballs until coloured all over. Place the browned meatballs in a roasting tin and place in the oven at 220c for 15 minutes until cooked through.
Gravy
A knob of unsalted butter
100ml single cream
1 beef stock cube
1tsbp cranberry jelly
2tsps cornflour mixed with water
Do it: Place the stock cube in the frying pan in which you cooked the meatballs and add a dash of water, mix.
Add the rest of the ingredients and stir to the desired consistancy. Add the meatballs and serve.
But I forgot to buy more of one vital ingredient – garlic!
This is the culinary equivalent of cutting of a cook’s left arm. Garlic is the savoury, sweet base to so many foods that to be without it is to have no soul in your cooking – there will always be something missing.
Saturday's delight was supposed to be light meatballs in a smoky tomato and chipotle sauce, but without my pal garlic I didn’t have the heart to prepare a tomato sauce.
However I did have to do something with the meat (prime steak mince) so I decided to take my meatballs down a Scandinavian/Italian route.
I started off by making some herby Italianate meatballs (minus the lemon zest and chilli I normally add to them) and whipped up a Scandi-style gravy, a bit like the sauce that would usually accompany Swedish meatballs.
Served with white rice and a bowl of peas, this ended-up be really quite nice. But I am still hampering for that garlicky, smoky chilli and tomato sauce. Perhaps it will appear later in the week.
Scandi/Italian meatballs
500g steak mince (or the best mince you can afford)
1tsp fresh thyme and oregano (or ½ tsp each dried)
A handful of grated cheese
1/2tsp allspice
1/2tsp salt
A few grinds of black pepper
1/4tsp cayenne pepper
2 slices of brown bread
50ml single cream
Do it: Place all of the ingredients in a blender and mix to a thick paste. Put 2tsbps of oil into a large frying pan and gently saute the meatballs until coloured all over. Place the browned meatballs in a roasting tin and place in the oven at 220c for 15 minutes until cooked through.
Gravy
A knob of unsalted butter
100ml single cream
1 beef stock cube
1tsbp cranberry jelly
2tsps cornflour mixed with water
Do it: Place the stock cube in the frying pan in which you cooked the meatballs and add a dash of water, mix.
Add the rest of the ingredients and stir to the desired consistancy. Add the meatballs and serve.
Monday 19 April 2010
Monday - veggi dinner - simples!
Feeling impossibly tired (as you do on a Monday morning) there was nothing I wanted more today than to sit on my butt and watch trash on telly when I got home.
But then I realised I have kids - this is an impossible dream!
Normally I plan our evening meals with military precision but there was no such joy this evening and I had about 15 minutes to start putting something together before cries of hunger started to come at me.
Eventually I knocked up a pretty darn good tagine using a mixture of fresh vegetables and leftovers. Savoury, sweet and sticky it was the ideal antidote to the Monday blues, also, because it was very low fat and high on the veg counter it made me feel less guilty about having homemade biscuits, ice cream and rhubarb compote for dessert.
Roasted vegetable tagine
3 leftover roast potatoes
2 leftover parsnips (about 6 bits)
1 yellow pepper
1 red onion
1 bulb of fennel
1tsp each of garlic powder, cumin powder and coriander powder
2 tbsps raisins
200ml passata
1/2 tsp salt
1 tin chickpeas
Doing it:
1. Chop the potatoes, parsnips, pepper, onion and fennel into big chunks and place in a roasting tin.
2. Add 2tbsp olive oil to the roasting tin and throw in the cumin and coriander powders. Roast for 30 minutes at 220c.
3. Mix together the garlic powder, salt, passata, chickpeas and raisins in a medium saucepan. Simmer for 15 minutes.
4. Add the roasted vegetables to the chickpea sauce and serve with couscous or rice.
Serves 4-6
Yummy vanilla biscuits
100g butter or margarine
100g plain flour
75g icing sugar
1tsp vanilla extract
Doing it:
1. Grease a baking tray and set the oven to 200c.
2. Mix all of the ingredients together quickly (a food processor is good for this).
3. Roll the mixture out on a floured surface to about 1cm thick and use a small cookie cutter about 5cm in diameter to cut out circles.
4. Place the biscuits on the baking tray and bake until golden (about 10 minutes).
But then I realised I have kids - this is an impossible dream!
Normally I plan our evening meals with military precision but there was no such joy this evening and I had about 15 minutes to start putting something together before cries of hunger started to come at me.
Eventually I knocked up a pretty darn good tagine using a mixture of fresh vegetables and leftovers. Savoury, sweet and sticky it was the ideal antidote to the Monday blues, also, because it was very low fat and high on the veg counter it made me feel less guilty about having homemade biscuits, ice cream and rhubarb compote for dessert.
Roasted vegetable tagine
3 leftover roast potatoes
2 leftover parsnips (about 6 bits)
1 yellow pepper
1 red onion
1 bulb of fennel
1tsp each of garlic powder, cumin powder and coriander powder
2 tbsps raisins
200ml passata
1/2 tsp salt
1 tin chickpeas
Doing it:
1. Chop the potatoes, parsnips, pepper, onion and fennel into big chunks and place in a roasting tin.
2. Add 2tbsp olive oil to the roasting tin and throw in the cumin and coriander powders. Roast for 30 minutes at 220c.
3. Mix together the garlic powder, salt, passata, chickpeas and raisins in a medium saucepan. Simmer for 15 minutes.
4. Add the roasted vegetables to the chickpea sauce and serve with couscous or rice.
Serves 4-6
Yummy vanilla biscuits
100g butter or margarine
100g plain flour
75g icing sugar
1tsp vanilla extract
Doing it:
1. Grease a baking tray and set the oven to 200c.
2. Mix all of the ingredients together quickly (a food processor is good for this).
3. Roll the mixture out on a floured surface to about 1cm thick and use a small cookie cutter about 5cm in diameter to cut out circles.
4. Place the biscuits on the baking tray and bake until golden (about 10 minutes).
Damn the fridge!
Where do those frozen onions come from?
Ok, so you’ve just done your daily, weekly or maybe even monthly shop. You’ve bought perhaps more than you should have (damn those buy-one-get-one-free offers) and your arms are practically severed at the shoulder from carrying the groceries from the car/bus.
You slam down said bags, sigh and set about the process of trying to cram everything in without being hit on the head by a rogue, unbalanced tin of baked beans.
Then you get to the fridge, which may look innocent enough from the outside, but upon opening is actually a germ-harbouring vessel replete with crusty nodules of cheese, dribbles from where you didn’t quite put the lid back on something properly, and onion skins!
Inevitably there will be a sludgy courgette pasted to the salad drawer, having given up the ghost, and the odd carrot lingering about somewhere.
There will be the jar of pickle you forgot about, and that bottle of hoisin sauce you’ve been using in stir-fries without realising it had to be USED WITHIN 3 DAYS. And in my case, there will always be an onion, frozen to the back- a real bugger to clean.
Some days, when I haven’t hit the shops for a little while, I wouldn’t be surprised to find tumbleweed wisping across the fridge drawer, such is the sad and barren landscape that has been left behind.
I didn’t buy any vegetables last weekend, determined to use up whatever I could dredge from the fridge before my new organic vegi box delivery made its first ever visit.
This has proved somewhat of a challenge. Contents left yesterday consisted of a swede (half frozen and a tad slimy), a rather limp leek, a carrot, about a million onions, some Grandma Singleton’s Lancashire which has been starting to smell a bit like a used nappy, and a few small apples.
What to do?
Cheese on swede? Swede mash layered with onions and cheese? Some kind of casserole? It’s a shame I don’t have a weaning baby anymore – they really are such fantastic garbage bins. Almost any leftover vegetable can be blitzed beyond recognition and still be passable to them.
In the end I whipped some mince out of the freezer (very, very bad practice) and put together a chilli, including tiny chopped pieces of swede and carrot and a hell of a lot of spice.
It didn’t taste half bad actually. Hell, you couldn’t even taste the swede.
I think this will be my future way of thinking when it comes to those poor, stray vegetables – chop em up and chuck em in – it can’t go too far wrong. Can it………
Ok, so you’ve just done your daily, weekly or maybe even monthly shop. You’ve bought perhaps more than you should have (damn those buy-one-get-one-free offers) and your arms are practically severed at the shoulder from carrying the groceries from the car/bus.
You slam down said bags, sigh and set about the process of trying to cram everything in without being hit on the head by a rogue, unbalanced tin of baked beans.
Then you get to the fridge, which may look innocent enough from the outside, but upon opening is actually a germ-harbouring vessel replete with crusty nodules of cheese, dribbles from where you didn’t quite put the lid back on something properly, and onion skins!
Inevitably there will be a sludgy courgette pasted to the salad drawer, having given up the ghost, and the odd carrot lingering about somewhere.
There will be the jar of pickle you forgot about, and that bottle of hoisin sauce you’ve been using in stir-fries without realising it had to be USED WITHIN 3 DAYS. And in my case, there will always be an onion, frozen to the back- a real bugger to clean.
Some days, when I haven’t hit the shops for a little while, I wouldn’t be surprised to find tumbleweed wisping across the fridge drawer, such is the sad and barren landscape that has been left behind.
I didn’t buy any vegetables last weekend, determined to use up whatever I could dredge from the fridge before my new organic vegi box delivery made its first ever visit.
This has proved somewhat of a challenge. Contents left yesterday consisted of a swede (half frozen and a tad slimy), a rather limp leek, a carrot, about a million onions, some Grandma Singleton’s Lancashire which has been starting to smell a bit like a used nappy, and a few small apples.
What to do?
Cheese on swede? Swede mash layered with onions and cheese? Some kind of casserole? It’s a shame I don’t have a weaning baby anymore – they really are such fantastic garbage bins. Almost any leftover vegetable can be blitzed beyond recognition and still be passable to them.
In the end I whipped some mince out of the freezer (very, very bad practice) and put together a chilli, including tiny chopped pieces of swede and carrot and a hell of a lot of spice.
It didn’t taste half bad actually. Hell, you couldn’t even taste the swede.
I think this will be my future way of thinking when it comes to those poor, stray vegetables – chop em up and chuck em in – it can’t go too far wrong. Can it………
The town where food goes to die
On Friday night me and my mate Lisa took a roadtrip to see a friend play a gig in an East Anglian town (which shall remain nameless).
We had loads of time to kill and planned to grab a bite enroute. On the way, basking in the glorious spring sunshine we must have passed about 10 fab pubs or restaurants but it was way too early to eat so we soldiered on.
Thirty minutes away from the venue and we seemed hit a culinary black hole – an area where food comes to die (or be battered, fried and served with ketchup) . Travelling somewhere across the Suffolk/Norfolk border we found ourselves in a world of fast food, convenience shops and pubs that seemed more interested in touting their Sky Sports facilities than laying on a good meal.
What had we done!
Eventually we arrived at our destination town – what a dump!
A ramshackled old spot with grey, soulless architecture, run-down businesses and a lingering dark sky.
Our first port of call for supper was a quaint 50s style tearoom which looked innocent enough. Having sat down and seen the list of around 80 dishes though, it was quite obvious that ‘homemade’ food was not going to be the order of the day.
Five minutes later a waitress came over and took my order for a drink before vanishing into the back, perhaps to drown her sorrows in a bottle of vodka?
My poor friend was left dumbfounded at not being offered a bevvy. She even asked me to pinch her to see if she was really there.
One pinch and one ‘ouch!’ later it was confirmed and with my drink taking about a hundred years to be poured somewhere in the depths of the building we scarpered.
Our only hope of dinner was a local hotel, apparently situated on a fine and sandy beach with glorious views, but to our eyes situated on a muddy estuary overlooking plumes of smoke and pillars of concrete from a nearby industrial area.
The menu looked OK, most of it probably brought in to be honest, but we were so incredibly hungry that we didn’t care what we ate as long as it contained a modicum of calories.
We both plumped for a roast dinner. Service wasn’t great – it’s not many times I’ve been to a restaurant to have the waiter practically throw my dinner onto the table in a huff. But the food was OK – lots of turkey, lots of gravy, lots of potatoes. It was let down by a melange of vegetables that all tasted the same, but hey-ho.
I think next time we will make sure our pitstop is taken in our beloved Suffolk, where you’re never too far from a friendly country pub or restaurant.
Although if anyone can recommend a decent eatery up in Norfolk we’d be more than willing to give it a go so long as we both get offered drinks and there’s a guarantee that dinner’s served with a smile.
Saturday was a good day for food – perhaps because (and I say this rather smugly and annoyingly) I made a lot of it myself.
Recovering from the culinary atrocities of Friday evening and having stayed the night at a friend’s house, me and my travelling companion Lisa were more than happy to receive freshly bake croissants in bed, lovingly cooked by hostess Jess.
I felt like quite a piggy after munching through two pain au chocolate in, oh, about one minute, but I think I deserved it after having traipsed around scavenging for food the night before.
An hour and a half late and looking considerably bed-ragged, my hubby eventually found his way to Jess’s house with our two tots in tow and we headed off for nearby Dinosaur Adventure, with the picnic I’d made the day before all packed and ready to go in the boot.
Don’t get me wrong, I am a sucker for those pre-packed, pre-prepared salads and pasta dishes that you find in shops such as M&S and Waitrose, but when it comes to picnics there is something quite wonderful about knowing you’ve made everything yourself.
Usually I am the doyenne of the picnic, and friends often joke about and look for the kitchen sink in my hamper. But this time I kept it light and only made a few things, all of which were scrumdiddlyumptious I might add.
There was a spicy cheese and chilli cornbread and a sausage and onion plait carrot sticks, slices of cucumber, ripe Spanish strawberries (naughty but I couldn’t resist) and the sickly, rich but utterly divine quadruple chocolate loaf cake from Nigella Lawson’s Feast cookbook. Let me tell you that if you haven’t tried this sticky and dark creation and you are a self-confessed chocoholic – YOU MUST COOK IT!!
I ended my Greedy Glut day (and let me just say I walked for four hours so I think I earned it) with drinks and nibbles at Debs’ house on Saturday night, where several bottles of wine were drunk (not by me) along with a mountain of Hula Hoops, Wotsits, Mini Cheddars, Gordon Ramsey chocolates, gianduja…oh, and grapes and nuts too!
At around 1.30am Debs had the bright idea that we should measure each other against the wall to see who was the tallest and mark it with a pen!
This only goes to show that wine and junk food are a dangerous, dangerous combination. I only hope that her hubby doesn’t ban us from having any more girly nights. Or god forbid he only lets us consume water and rice crackers!
We had loads of time to kill and planned to grab a bite enroute. On the way, basking in the glorious spring sunshine we must have passed about 10 fab pubs or restaurants but it was way too early to eat so we soldiered on.
Thirty minutes away from the venue and we seemed hit a culinary black hole – an area where food comes to die (or be battered, fried and served with ketchup) . Travelling somewhere across the Suffolk/Norfolk border we found ourselves in a world of fast food, convenience shops and pubs that seemed more interested in touting their Sky Sports facilities than laying on a good meal.
What had we done!
Eventually we arrived at our destination town – what a dump!
A ramshackled old spot with grey, soulless architecture, run-down businesses and a lingering dark sky.
Our first port of call for supper was a quaint 50s style tearoom which looked innocent enough. Having sat down and seen the list of around 80 dishes though, it was quite obvious that ‘homemade’ food was not going to be the order of the day.
Five minutes later a waitress came over and took my order for a drink before vanishing into the back, perhaps to drown her sorrows in a bottle of vodka?
My poor friend was left dumbfounded at not being offered a bevvy. She even asked me to pinch her to see if she was really there.
One pinch and one ‘ouch!’ later it was confirmed and with my drink taking about a hundred years to be poured somewhere in the depths of the building we scarpered.
Our only hope of dinner was a local hotel, apparently situated on a fine and sandy beach with glorious views, but to our eyes situated on a muddy estuary overlooking plumes of smoke and pillars of concrete from a nearby industrial area.
The menu looked OK, most of it probably brought in to be honest, but we were so incredibly hungry that we didn’t care what we ate as long as it contained a modicum of calories.
We both plumped for a roast dinner. Service wasn’t great – it’s not many times I’ve been to a restaurant to have the waiter practically throw my dinner onto the table in a huff. But the food was OK – lots of turkey, lots of gravy, lots of potatoes. It was let down by a melange of vegetables that all tasted the same, but hey-ho.
I think next time we will make sure our pitstop is taken in our beloved Suffolk, where you’re never too far from a friendly country pub or restaurant.
Although if anyone can recommend a decent eatery up in Norfolk we’d be more than willing to give it a go so long as we both get offered drinks and there’s a guarantee that dinner’s served with a smile.
Saturday was a good day for food – perhaps because (and I say this rather smugly and annoyingly) I made a lot of it myself.
Recovering from the culinary atrocities of Friday evening and having stayed the night at a friend’s house, me and my travelling companion Lisa were more than happy to receive freshly bake croissants in bed, lovingly cooked by hostess Jess.
I felt like quite a piggy after munching through two pain au chocolate in, oh, about one minute, but I think I deserved it after having traipsed around scavenging for food the night before.
An hour and a half late and looking considerably bed-ragged, my hubby eventually found his way to Jess’s house with our two tots in tow and we headed off for nearby Dinosaur Adventure, with the picnic I’d made the day before all packed and ready to go in the boot.
Don’t get me wrong, I am a sucker for those pre-packed, pre-prepared salads and pasta dishes that you find in shops such as M&S and Waitrose, but when it comes to picnics there is something quite wonderful about knowing you’ve made everything yourself.
Usually I am the doyenne of the picnic, and friends often joke about and look for the kitchen sink in my hamper. But this time I kept it light and only made a few things, all of which were scrumdiddlyumptious I might add.
There was a spicy cheese and chilli cornbread and a sausage and onion plait carrot sticks, slices of cucumber, ripe Spanish strawberries (naughty but I couldn’t resist) and the sickly, rich but utterly divine quadruple chocolate loaf cake from Nigella Lawson’s Feast cookbook. Let me tell you that if you haven’t tried this sticky and dark creation and you are a self-confessed chocoholic – YOU MUST COOK IT!!
I ended my Greedy Glut day (and let me just say I walked for four hours so I think I earned it) with drinks and nibbles at Debs’ house on Saturday night, where several bottles of wine were drunk (not by me) along with a mountain of Hula Hoops, Wotsits, Mini Cheddars, Gordon Ramsey chocolates, gianduja…oh, and grapes and nuts too!
At around 1.30am Debs had the bright idea that we should measure each other against the wall to see who was the tallest and mark it with a pen!
This only goes to show that wine and junk food are a dangerous, dangerous combination. I only hope that her hubby doesn’t ban us from having any more girly nights. Or god forbid he only lets us consume water and rice crackers!
Tuesday 6 April 2010
Yippee - homemade chocolates
I love my friend Lu!
While I gave her a 1kg bag of locally stoneground organic flour and some homemade, not quite hot crossed buns (the paste was too runny) at Easter, she only went and got me a chocolate tempering machine!
I loved Willy Wonka when I was growing-up and have often tried to make my own choccies, but they always bloom because the chocolate hasn't been tempered properly.
Over Christmas I purchased an artisan chocolate-making book and have been waiting for thoughtful Mr GG to bring home a piece of marble so I could temper chocolate like a pro.
But now I don't need a slab of rock anymore because I have my miracle machine.
At the weekend, with my Hitachi tempering machine glistening at my left and my chocolate book at my right, it was time to jump into the realms of the confectioner.
First I made my very own gianduja (that hazlenutty, chocolaty paste) by roasting 200g of hazelnuts with 200g golden caster sugar until the sugar was molten.
I let this set and then blitzed it in the food processor with 200g melted dark chocolate, until the whole thing became a divine chocolate paste.
Then I set to work using the tempering machine by melting 200g dark chocolate on the highest setting and then setting it to low, which would maintain it at just the right temperature to work with.
I rolled the gianduja into balls and with a fork dipped them into the chocolate before allowing to set on greaseproof paper.
Quite simply it was a triumph. Instead of blooming or melting from being out of the fridge, the chocolates retained a crisp, shiny and professional-looking shell. They tasted great too.
Any friends wondering what they'll be getting for their birthdays this year should send in their requests now!
Oh and, by the way Lu, I really need an ice cream machine! Wink wink......
While I gave her a 1kg bag of locally stoneground organic flour and some homemade, not quite hot crossed buns (the paste was too runny) at Easter, she only went and got me a chocolate tempering machine!
I loved Willy Wonka when I was growing-up and have often tried to make my own choccies, but they always bloom because the chocolate hasn't been tempered properly.
Over Christmas I purchased an artisan chocolate-making book and have been waiting for thoughtful Mr GG to bring home a piece of marble so I could temper chocolate like a pro.
But now I don't need a slab of rock anymore because I have my miracle machine.
At the weekend, with my Hitachi tempering machine glistening at my left and my chocolate book at my right, it was time to jump into the realms of the confectioner.
First I made my very own gianduja (that hazlenutty, chocolaty paste) by roasting 200g of hazelnuts with 200g golden caster sugar until the sugar was molten.
I let this set and then blitzed it in the food processor with 200g melted dark chocolate, until the whole thing became a divine chocolate paste.
Then I set to work using the tempering machine by melting 200g dark chocolate on the highest setting and then setting it to low, which would maintain it at just the right temperature to work with.
I rolled the gianduja into balls and with a fork dipped them into the chocolate before allowing to set on greaseproof paper.
Quite simply it was a triumph. Instead of blooming or melting from being out of the fridge, the chocolates retained a crisp, shiny and professional-looking shell. They tasted great too.
Any friends wondering what they'll be getting for their birthdays this year should send in their requests now!
Oh and, by the way Lu, I really need an ice cream machine! Wink wink......
Velvet chicken with mustard, bay and perry
Cider and chicken might not seem like an obvious pairing - its usually porcine cuts that pair best with this fruity tipple.
But on Easter Sunday upon arriving at the folks' house to "help" (which inevitably means to cook everything myself) instead of having a great wodge of gammon to contend with, my mum approached me in great trepidation with a bag of chiken thighs that "have to be used by today!"
My parents' kitchen, although packed to the hilt with food, tends to be a mecca of convenience, being laden with tinned sauces, and soups, biscuits and preserves - none of which are very helpful when you need to actually COOK something.
I had come armed with a small, slow-cooked lamb shoulder, English mustard, a bowl of hot cross bun mixture and a bottle of Thatchers pear cider (which incensed my dad - "There is no such thing as pear cider- it's perry! Perry!")
Thinking quickly on my feet I rustled-up what turned out to be a delicious chicken dish, with a creamy, non-cream sauce to boot.
I began by slicing one onion down the middle and slicing each half thinly, putting the onion into a slow frying pan to gently sizzle away.
When the onion was starting to turn golden I added the boned, skinless chicken thighs (about 600g) and seasoning, letting the chicken colour all over.
I added 2tsps cornflour to coat and then 2 bay leaves, one chicken stock cube,1 tbsp of English mustard and 400ml of pear cider (sorry - perry!).
I simmered the mixture slowly until the chicken was cooked through and the sauce coated the back of a wooden spoon.
A savoury, succulent dish with a hint of sweetness and spice.
But on Easter Sunday upon arriving at the folks' house to "help" (which inevitably means to cook everything myself) instead of having a great wodge of gammon to contend with, my mum approached me in great trepidation with a bag of chiken thighs that "have to be used by today!"
My parents' kitchen, although packed to the hilt with food, tends to be a mecca of convenience, being laden with tinned sauces, and soups, biscuits and preserves - none of which are very helpful when you need to actually COOK something.
I had come armed with a small, slow-cooked lamb shoulder, English mustard, a bowl of hot cross bun mixture and a bottle of Thatchers pear cider (which incensed my dad - "There is no such thing as pear cider- it's perry! Perry!")
Thinking quickly on my feet I rustled-up what turned out to be a delicious chicken dish, with a creamy, non-cream sauce to boot.
I began by slicing one onion down the middle and slicing each half thinly, putting the onion into a slow frying pan to gently sizzle away.
When the onion was starting to turn golden I added the boned, skinless chicken thighs (about 600g) and seasoning, letting the chicken colour all over.
I added 2tsps cornflour to coat and then 2 bay leaves, one chicken stock cube,1 tbsp of English mustard and 400ml of pear cider (sorry - perry!).
I simmered the mixture slowly until the chicken was cooked through and the sauce coated the back of a wooden spoon.
A savoury, succulent dish with a hint of sweetness and spice.
Return of the vegetarians
"Bloody hell, not the vegetarians again!"
Look, I have nothing against vegetarians, it's simply that I would never want to be one, and I NEVER EVER know what to cook when they come over for dinner - despite having perhaps 6 vegetarian cookbooks on my bookshelf.
To be fair, I DID invite them over (you know who you are) but I forgot I would have to cook. Worse still, I promised them tapas.
Now, when I think tapas, I think salty chorizo, Moorish-scented kebabs and salt cod fritters.
After quite a lot of fannying around at the local health food store, and having weighted myself down with a plethora of veg and a dizzying amount of wine (hey, better to get them drunk then it doesn't matter if the food's crap) I headed home, searching my brain for vegi tapas recipes.
So, this is what we had. And you know what? They loved it! Phew!
Completely non-authentic baba ganoush
1 aubergine sliced in half and scored across the skin
1/2 tin of chickpeas
juice of 1/2 lemon
3tbsp olive oil
1 clove garlic
Do it: Place the aubergine halfs on the highest setting in your oven and dry roast until they are squishy (about 25 minutes).
Allow the aubergine to cool slightly and then scoop out the flesh.
Put the aubergine flesh in a food processor with all of the other ingredients and blitz until smooth.
Serve topped with chopped coriander and a drizzle of oil.
Crunchy roasted pepper salad
5 mixed peppers, roughly chopped
1/2 tin chickpeas drained
1tsp cumin seeds
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp coriander seeds
1tsp sesame seeds
2 tbsps olive oil
squeeze lemon juice
Do it: Place the peppers and 1tbsp olive oil in a roasting dish and cook in the oven on its highest setting until charred (about 30 minutes).
Allow the peppers to cool slightly and then peel away the skin.
Mix the pepper with 1tbsp olive and a squeeze of lemon juice - set aside.
Blitz the drained chickpeas in a food processor for a couple of seconds and then dry fry in a pan with the cumin seeds, coriander seeds, salt and sesame seeds until crunchy.
Mix the crunchy chickpeas with the peppers and serve.
Spanish-style pasties
150g plain flour
75g unsalted butter
cold water
1 pack of smoked tofu, chopped into 1cm cubes (or 6 chilli sausages)
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1tsp smoked paprika
2 leeks
100ml red wine
seasoning
1tsp dried parsley
Do it: First make the pastry by blending the butter and flour together in a cold bowl to make breadcrumbs.
Add enough cold water to bind, then wrap the pastry in clingfilm and place in the fridge to rest.
To make the filling add a splash of oil to a hot pan and sear the tofu or sausages until slightly crusty. Add the garlic, parsley, leeks and paprika and allow to soften.
Deglaze the pan by throwing in the red wine and heat until all of the liquid has gone. Let it cool on the side.
To assemble the pasties roll out circles of pastry and fill lightly with the tofu filling (think along the lines of a large tablespoon of mixture for a 10cm diameter circle).
Fold over and seal with a fork, then cook on 200oC until golden (about 20-25 minutes).
Look, I have nothing against vegetarians, it's simply that I would never want to be one, and I NEVER EVER know what to cook when they come over for dinner - despite having perhaps 6 vegetarian cookbooks on my bookshelf.
To be fair, I DID invite them over (you know who you are) but I forgot I would have to cook. Worse still, I promised them tapas.
Now, when I think tapas, I think salty chorizo, Moorish-scented kebabs and salt cod fritters.
After quite a lot of fannying around at the local health food store, and having weighted myself down with a plethora of veg and a dizzying amount of wine (hey, better to get them drunk then it doesn't matter if the food's crap) I headed home, searching my brain for vegi tapas recipes.
So, this is what we had. And you know what? They loved it! Phew!
Completely non-authentic baba ganoush
1 aubergine sliced in half and scored across the skin
1/2 tin of chickpeas
juice of 1/2 lemon
3tbsp olive oil
1 clove garlic
Do it: Place the aubergine halfs on the highest setting in your oven and dry roast until they are squishy (about 25 minutes).
Allow the aubergine to cool slightly and then scoop out the flesh.
Put the aubergine flesh in a food processor with all of the other ingredients and blitz until smooth.
Serve topped with chopped coriander and a drizzle of oil.
Crunchy roasted pepper salad
5 mixed peppers, roughly chopped
1/2 tin chickpeas drained
1tsp cumin seeds
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp coriander seeds
1tsp sesame seeds
2 tbsps olive oil
squeeze lemon juice
Do it: Place the peppers and 1tbsp olive oil in a roasting dish and cook in the oven on its highest setting until charred (about 30 minutes).
Allow the peppers to cool slightly and then peel away the skin.
Mix the pepper with 1tbsp olive and a squeeze of lemon juice - set aside.
Blitz the drained chickpeas in a food processor for a couple of seconds and then dry fry in a pan with the cumin seeds, coriander seeds, salt and sesame seeds until crunchy.
Mix the crunchy chickpeas with the peppers and serve.
Spanish-style pasties
150g plain flour
75g unsalted butter
cold water
1 pack of smoked tofu, chopped into 1cm cubes (or 6 chilli sausages)
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1tsp smoked paprika
2 leeks
100ml red wine
seasoning
1tsp dried parsley
Do it: First make the pastry by blending the butter and flour together in a cold bowl to make breadcrumbs.
Add enough cold water to bind, then wrap the pastry in clingfilm and place in the fridge to rest.
To make the filling add a splash of oil to a hot pan and sear the tofu or sausages until slightly crusty. Add the garlic, parsley, leeks and paprika and allow to soften.
Deglaze the pan by throwing in the red wine and heat until all of the liquid has gone. Let it cool on the side.
To assemble the pasties roll out circles of pastry and fill lightly with the tofu filling (think along the lines of a large tablespoon of mixture for a 10cm diameter circle).
Fold over and seal with a fork, then cook on 200oC until golden (about 20-25 minutes).
Cookbooks - my obsession
My love affair with cookery books began, I suppose with my first self-purchased tome of How to Eat by the delectable Nigella - who, like a superhero requires no second name.
Voluptuous Nigella brought sex appeal to cooking at a time of a great culinary revolution, in which cooking became more of a pleasure for the masses.
On screen with her smoky siren-like appearance and smooth, sultry tones, Nigella could grab anyone's attention.
Although lacking in pictures (which some people hate in cookbooks) I adore How to Eat.
I can't tell you how many times I've found solice in this culinary bible - huddled under my duvet digesting its contents on a sleepless night, peppering my way through the pages while bubbling a stew on the stove, or trying to get the damn pages unstuck!
I now always cook duck, whole or portioned, by boiling first, a la Nigella, and have never since been disappointed.
Soon I will post-up my list of cookbooks (which is huge) for you to glance at -there are some fantastic little-known books that I own which all foodies should know about and buy.
Voluptuous Nigella brought sex appeal to cooking at a time of a great culinary revolution, in which cooking became more of a pleasure for the masses.
On screen with her smoky siren-like appearance and smooth, sultry tones, Nigella could grab anyone's attention.
Although lacking in pictures (which some people hate in cookbooks) I adore How to Eat.
I can't tell you how many times I've found solice in this culinary bible - huddled under my duvet digesting its contents on a sleepless night, peppering my way through the pages while bubbling a stew on the stove, or trying to get the damn pages unstuck!
I now always cook duck, whole or portioned, by boiling first, a la Nigella, and have never since been disappointed.
Soon I will post-up my list of cookbooks (which is huge) for you to glance at -there are some fantastic little-known books that I own which all foodies should know about and buy.
Dipping into dukkah
"Fancy some dukkah?" I said to Mr GG.
"No I didn't say duck, you idiot," I added as my non-foody hubby took cover by the mounting pile of washing-up.
"I'm going to make some dukkah!"
I adore tihs seedy (not in any explicit way) nutty, spiced dip and think of it as a healthy snack attack alternative to a packet of crisps of an evening.
Ok, so it can get a bit messy, what with the bits and bobs and the oil and the dipping but messy is as messy does (I still don't know what that means).
To make my dukkah I blitz 100g of cashew nuts, 1tsp of fennel seeds, 1tsp of cumin seeds, 1tsp of salt, 1/2tsp ground coriander, 3tbsps sesame seeds and a pinch of cayenne pepper in a food processor until chopped a bit.
Serve in a bowl with a mound of pitta or naan bread (well, any bread really - I've even tried crackers in desperation). On the side have a little bowl of your best olive oil ready to dip the bread into, followed by a dunking in the dukkah. Mmmm mmmmm mmmm
"No I didn't say duck, you idiot," I added as my non-foody hubby took cover by the mounting pile of washing-up.
"I'm going to make some dukkah!"
I adore tihs seedy (not in any explicit way) nutty, spiced dip and think of it as a healthy snack attack alternative to a packet of crisps of an evening.
Ok, so it can get a bit messy, what with the bits and bobs and the oil and the dipping but messy is as messy does (I still don't know what that means).
To make my dukkah I blitz 100g of cashew nuts, 1tsp of fennel seeds, 1tsp of cumin seeds, 1tsp of salt, 1/2tsp ground coriander, 3tbsps sesame seeds and a pinch of cayenne pepper in a food processor until chopped a bit.
Serve in a bowl with a mound of pitta or naan bread (well, any bread really - I've even tried crackers in desperation). On the side have a little bowl of your best olive oil ready to dip the bread into, followed by a dunking in the dukkah. Mmmm mmmmm mmmm
Oh no, not swede again!
Tuesday - 6pm - fridge contents:
1 leek
1 swede (partially frozen)
2 rather sad and limp bananas
a huge wodge of suspisciously-scented Grandma Singleton's
Prospects are not looking good.
Cheese on swede.....
Banana a la fromage......
Leek and swede stir fry?
I suppose I could have rustled-up some pasties but really, who can be arsed to make pasties after a day at the office?
After rustling through the freezer I managed to salvage a rather yummy chilli -yes with the swede included. I wander what else swede tastes good in?
1 leek
1 swede (partially frozen)
2 rather sad and limp bananas
a huge wodge of suspisciously-scented Grandma Singleton's
Prospects are not looking good.
Cheese on swede.....
Banana a la fromage......
Leek and swede stir fry?
I suppose I could have rustled-up some pasties but really, who can be arsed to make pasties after a day at the office?
After rustling through the freezer I managed to salvage a rather yummy chilli -yes with the swede included. I wander what else swede tastes good in?
This is me - the Greedy Glut
Hello and welcome to my first ever post!
I am the Greedy Glut. I'm not a chef, I haven't got a coveted Michelin star or respected Bib Gourmand.
But......I do have nearly a million (well, not literally) sticky, manhandled cookbooks, a trusty set of Circulon pans and a troup of willing guinea pigs (sorry, I mean dinner guests).
I am a home cook and a writer by trade. But mostly I am a hopelessly addicted foodie.
I LOVE food. I know it, my family knows it and boy do my friends know it.
I can’t go for more than a few moments without thinking or talking about what to nibble on next, and one of the highlights of my week (sadly I know) is planning what we are to eat for the next few days.
In fact, so food obsessed am I that I actually decide where to holiday and take day trips based on the culinary offerings available.
And no matter how generous I am on every other level, should anyone try to steal, borrow or beg food from my plate they would surely feel my wrath. Think of me as a female version of Joey from Friends - someone for whom food is as precious, delectable and satisfying as sex.
As with most people these days I really haven’t got loads of time to cook. By the time I’ve worn my fingers down at work, picked up the kids, flicked off my shoes, washed up, dealt with gathered housework and read bedtime stories, there is barely time to have a bath before bed or Brain Train on my Nintendo DS - let alone whip up a culinary extravaganza.
On the flip side, when I do have time to cook I really enjoy it and want to spend time reading recipes, choosing great ingredients and lavishing time and love on treating my family and guests to fantastic food.
This book is not about quick fixes and rushing about, Sure, there are ideas and recipes for snacks quick fixes, but at the core of this blog is good, honest, tasty food that is really worth cooking and savouring.
I am a great believer in the kitchen being the heart of the home.
It is a place where lunchboxes are strewn together in the morning, stews are conjured up on winter’s days and where kids learn to roll dough, cut out biscuits and stir the Christmas cake with a wooden spoon.
I am also a great believer in shopping locally and sourcing local produce - both of which are currently a la mode, particularly in my home county of Suffolk.
There is a great food revolution stirring in which a certain sector of the country is fighting back against the faceless supermarket chains, turning instead to the farmers’ market, the local butchers, weekly fishmongers stalls and delis. And their meals and pockets are all the better for it.
Wouldn’t you rather munch your way through a meal of juicy, succulent sausages from the butcher down the road, proudly spiked into mounds of oozingly fluffy mash made from potatoes picked at the farm in the next village? Surely this is a much more exciting proposition than pastel pink, squeaky sausages with tasteless ‘white potato’ mash?
I think it is.
If you love devouring and digesting cookbooks, cooking great food, talking about food - well, basically living and breathing anything edible, join me on my journey of culinary discovery.
I will be sharing my favourite homegrown recipes, divulging my favourite gadgets and cookbooks, and talking about anything and everything foodie happening in my life.
Getting jiggy with it
Cereal bars
Blueberry, almond and lemon muffins
Afternoon extravagances
Dinner fit for a king
I am the Greedy Glut. I'm not a chef, I haven't got a coveted Michelin star or respected Bib Gourmand.
But......I do have nearly a million (well, not literally) sticky, manhandled cookbooks, a trusty set of Circulon pans and a troup of willing guinea pigs (sorry, I mean dinner guests).
I am a home cook and a writer by trade. But mostly I am a hopelessly addicted foodie.
I LOVE food. I know it, my family knows it and boy do my friends know it.
I can’t go for more than a few moments without thinking or talking about what to nibble on next, and one of the highlights of my week (sadly I know) is planning what we are to eat for the next few days.
In fact, so food obsessed am I that I actually decide where to holiday and take day trips based on the culinary offerings available.
And no matter how generous I am on every other level, should anyone try to steal, borrow or beg food from my plate they would surely feel my wrath. Think of me as a female version of Joey from Friends - someone for whom food is as precious, delectable and satisfying as sex.
As with most people these days I really haven’t got loads of time to cook. By the time I’ve worn my fingers down at work, picked up the kids, flicked off my shoes, washed up, dealt with gathered housework and read bedtime stories, there is barely time to have a bath before bed or Brain Train on my Nintendo DS - let alone whip up a culinary extravaganza.
On the flip side, when I do have time to cook I really enjoy it and want to spend time reading recipes, choosing great ingredients and lavishing time and love on treating my family and guests to fantastic food.
This book is not about quick fixes and rushing about, Sure, there are ideas and recipes for snacks quick fixes, but at the core of this blog is good, honest, tasty food that is really worth cooking and savouring.
I am a great believer in the kitchen being the heart of the home.
It is a place where lunchboxes are strewn together in the morning, stews are conjured up on winter’s days and where kids learn to roll dough, cut out biscuits and stir the Christmas cake with a wooden spoon.
I am also a great believer in shopping locally and sourcing local produce - both of which are currently a la mode, particularly in my home county of Suffolk.
There is a great food revolution stirring in which a certain sector of the country is fighting back against the faceless supermarket chains, turning instead to the farmers’ market, the local butchers, weekly fishmongers stalls and delis. And their meals and pockets are all the better for it.
Wouldn’t you rather munch your way through a meal of juicy, succulent sausages from the butcher down the road, proudly spiked into mounds of oozingly fluffy mash made from potatoes picked at the farm in the next village? Surely this is a much more exciting proposition than pastel pink, squeaky sausages with tasteless ‘white potato’ mash?
I think it is.
If you love devouring and digesting cookbooks, cooking great food, talking about food - well, basically living and breathing anything edible, join me on my journey of culinary discovery.
I will be sharing my favourite homegrown recipes, divulging my favourite gadgets and cookbooks, and talking about anything and everything foodie happening in my life.
Getting jiggy with it
Cereal bars
Blueberry, almond and lemon muffins
Afternoon extravagances
Dinner fit for a king
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