Monty Halls’ Great Escape is all over? What will we do now?
So every Sunday night for a while now, we’ve been glued to BBC2 at 9pm for Monty Halls’ Great Escape. I’m not sure if you’ve seen it, but for us it’s been the best television we’ve seen in ages (and you know I’m not really one for watching the box). If you don’t know Monty Halls, he’s better known as a Marine Biologist and is usually seen in a mask and flippers at the bottom of the ocean somewhere filming huge sea creatures. This, then, was a bit of a departure from the norm.
Monty (and his incredibly loveable but stupid German Shepherd, Reuben) set himself a challenge to live as a crofter for six months on the west coast of Scotland in an old bothy. Basically, he started from scratch and with the help of the locals slowly renovated the place to make it liveable (installing a one-man wind turbine, amongst other things), planting his own crops, and rearing (and butchering) his own sheep, chickens and pigs, including ‘old bag’ Doris, who was spit roasted on the last programme. We were just glued to the screen the whole time. Not least because of his amazing encounters with a giant basking shark, local otters and a stunning Pine Marten amongst others, but I think maybe because in a much smaller way, this was what we intended to do when we moved to Cavan, and I still have a yearning for chickens and pigs, a slower pace of life and a yen towards self sufficiency.
After weeks of searching for the perfect old farmhouse to do up, with outbuildings for all our animals, we ended up in a new build with a scant acre and, well, you know the story from there. But still, one of these days I’d love to ‘do a Monty’ and go back to a simpler way of life. What about you? Would you escape from the rat race and ‘knit your own yoghurt’?
Chocolate chip whiteys or white chocolate brownies, or blondies…
My poor Ma’s flight was delayed until 11pm on Friday. How desperate is that? Nobody needs to spend 5 hours adrift at Dublin Airport, it’s just not fair. The only thing to do there is drink and buy vast amounts of overpriced cosmetics. Oh, hang on though, that sounds like quite good fun. Still, she’s home now and we’re all more or less returning to normal (by normal, I mean our alcohol consumption has levelled out and the pink meringue pie is finally finished), although the children are flush with cash and chocolate, but then that’s usual after a visit from Grandma.
In other news, the cookery book I worked on as recipe tester and general skivvy has finally been published and I got my sparkly new copy in the post, complete with my name in it! And okay, whilst it’s not quite as good as having your own cook book published, some of the recipes in there are mine, so I’m still rather pleased. Although in a typically spectacular piece of Frank Spenceresque cack-handedness, I then tipped a bottle of kitchen cleaner all over it without noticing and had to spend a ridiculously long time unsticking all the pages, but honestly, I’ve come to expect nothing less from myself.
Back in the kitchen, then, to knock up these little beauties. I think they’re really supposed to be called ‘blondies’ but in this house they’re called whiteys:
225g white chocolate (make sure it’s a nice one, although I’m sure making it with Milky Bar wouldn’t kill you)
170g butter
3 eggs
225g caster sugar
110g plain flour
50 chopped dark chocolate
Melt the white chocolate and the butter in a bowl over a saucepan of simmering water, making sure the bottom doesn’t touch the water (bain marie, you knew that though, blah blah):
In another bowl, mix up the eggs and sugar – don’t whisk or anything, but make sure they’re well combined. Add in the melted chocolate mixture, then the flour and finally the dark chocolate chunks:
Tip into a greased and lined rectangular tin (you really must get some bake-o-glide, it’s fab) and bake for about 30 - 35 minutes. You don’t get quite the same shiny, cracked effect as with the dark chocolate brownies, and the dark chocolate chunks do sink to the bottom, but the result has a slightly lighter, chewier effect and is rather pleasing. Oh, and if you’re not totally fruit-phobic like #2, these would be exceptionally nice with a handful of raspberries instead of the dark chocolate. It’s a really nice, fool-proof recipe, this one. In fact, if I ever write my own recipe book, I’ll put this one in it. And I’ll keep it well away from the kitchen cleaner too.
The Friday birthday photo: the pinkest raspberry meringue pie
So I had a lovely birthday, thank you so much for all your good wishes. I got lots of donations to my KitchenAid fund, which is now looking quite healthy, plus lots of lovely bits and pieces for my garden (including a fantastic Eucalyptus tree from the boys), and 6 new sparkly Denby mugs from Hubby to add to my collection:
Sensible Uncle I and Lovely L bought me Ching He Huang’s new Chinese cookbook, and Mad Uncle A gave me a nice wodge of cash (although I’m pretty sure the empty card was provided by me Ma as he didn’t seem to know a lot about that bit). Jen sent me the wondrous flowers you saw yesterday and the Disreputable One stumped up an eye-wateringly generous cash donation, which arrived via an enormous white courier van (well you can never be too careful) and so did my Ma. And yes, I probably accept that at my age I shouldn’t still be getting cash in the birthday cards from my parents.
As you know, the tradition here at English Towers is that the birthday person gets free reign to choose whichever birthday cake they like. Unfortunately, being Chief Domestic Goddess, that means I get to make my own. Still, I had me Ma here. And plenty of sodding about and giggling later, we came up with this:
First for the easy peasy pastry:
115g butter, melted
100g caster sugar
200g plain flour
Pinch of salt
Preheat the oven to 180/gas 4. Pour the melted butter into the sugar and stir. Then add the flour and salt and mix it around until it becomes a thick paste. Press the mixture into a loose bottomed (steady) flan dish or baking tin (about 24cm should do it), then bake it blind (scrunch up a bit of greaseproof paper, then smooth it over the pastry and pour in the baking beans) for about 15 minutes. Then take it out of the oven, remove the baking beans and put it back in to cook the base for about another 5 minutes, then take it out and leave to cool. Turn the oven down to gas 2/150 degrees.
Meanwhile, make the raspberry curd. We couldn’t find fresh raspberries, so we used a decent tinned brand and just squished the contents through a sieve, but you can use the bought stuff or just purée some fresh ones:
100g butter
4 tbsp raspberry purée
1 lime, zested then juiced
150g caster sugar
2 eggs plus 1 extra yolk (keep the white for the meringue)
Take a saucepan and bung in the butter, raspberry purée, lime juice and zest and caster sugar. Melt it all together slowly until the sugar is all dissolved. In a bowl, whisk the eggs and yolk until well combined. Now, take your beautiful pink mixture and gently pour a little bit into the egg, whisking all the time, then a bit more, then a bit more, until you’ve combined about half of it with the eggs. Now pour that lot back into the saucepan and keep whisking and simmering until the mixture thickens – remember it’s going to be baked in the pie, so don’t worry about making it really spready consistency at this stage. Turn off the heat and leave to cool. Remember to just stir it occasionally to keep it from getting a skin on. When it’s about room temperature, pour it into the pastry case.
Then for the meringue:
4 egg whites
225g caster sugar
Whisk the eggs in a very clean bowl until they form stiff peaks, then keep whisking while you add the sugar, spoon by spoon, until it’s all incorporated and the meringue is thick and glossy. If it’s your birthday and you’re rather prone to things pink and gorgeous, you can add a couple of drops of raspberry juice or cochineal here to give a delicate pinkness to your billowy meringue. It’s best not to do this after several glasses of wine because it all gets a bit silly and giggly. What? Oh, no, of course I don’t mean me. Pile it all on top of the raspberry curd and fluff it up a bit. Bake in the very low oven (gas 2/150 degrees) for about 40 to 50 minutes, depending on how squelchy you like your meringue.
Garnish with pink edible glitter (okay so you don’t really have to do that bit) and serve with a nice bottle of chilled rosé Prosecco and the company of your wonderful family. Cheers!
And no, I have no idea what the jar of Hellmann’s is doing in the background completely spoiling my shot. I blame the alcohol.
A pink and sparkly day…
I’m having a lovely day…
There’s pink sparkly cards:
…beautiful pink flowers:
…and pink meringue too (more of that later):
Next comes the pink champagne…
Chicken and asparagus risotto
Ah, Mother’s Day. A day for eating cremated bacon sandwiches whilst smiling broadly and going ‘mmm, delicious!’, drinking the half-cup of dodgy tea that was delivered to your bedside whilst secretly worrying how long it’s going to take you to remove the other half that’s been slopped up the stairs, and being the recipient of approximately fifteen hardly squeezes and twenty five sloppy kisses every five minutes. I love it. I got some beautiful flowers, some pink and blue furry (yup, furry), sparkly cards, a lovely set of aromatherapy smellies and a chocolate fondue as well. I made teeny meringues to dip in the chocky and a lubly day was had by all.
In other news, the Death Wish Child seems to have recovered well from his recent face-first encounter with the tarmac at school (teeth through top lip – ouch), and his subsequent head-butting of someone else’s knee in a footie match. Deciding, then, that he might like some comfort food, I whipped up a little risotto. I like making risotto. There’s something really therapeutic about standing at the stove stirring - it makes me feel all efficient and homely (that’s a first):
2 pints chicken stock (cubey stuff is fine)
2 chicken breasts (free range, natch)
50g butter/slosh of olive oil
1 onion, or a couple of shallots, finely chopped
350g risotto rice (carnaroli or arborio are easily available)
Handful of frozen peas
Bunch of asparagus
Parmesan cheese to taste
So make up your stock (or if you’re really efficient, reheat your home-made stuff), and pop the chicken breasts in to poach – you can add some herbs or an onion or whatever too, if you like. Grab a heavy based pan, put if on a low heat and melt the butter. Glug in some olive oil, then gently fry the onion until it’s translucent (little tip here – a pinch of sugar will stop it browning). Then bung in the rice, stirring around until it’s all glossy.
Now just keep adding ladlefuls of stock, one at a time, stirring constantly and making sure all the liquid is absorbed before adding another. I tend to leave the chicken breasts wallowing in the stock until I’ve nearly used it all, which means they get at least 20 minutes’ poaching. Take them out and shred them, then add them to the risotto along with your frozen peas. Meanwhile, get another saucepan going with some boiling salted water to blanch your asparagus. When all the stock is gone – this might take half an hour or so - the risotto should be nice and creamy, still with a teeny bit of bite to it.
Now turn the heat off, have a quick taste and season generously, then stir in another knob of butter, put the lid on and leave it to sit while you blanch the asparagus for about 6 to 8 minutes (add the heads last so they don’t get soggy). When just tender, drain and reserve.
Finally, ladle the risotto into warm bowls, topping with some grated parmesan and the asparagus. Of course this is nice with the asparagus incorporated into the risotto, but with #2 being ill already, I don’t want to scare him any further by serving him up anything green that isn’t a frozen pea.
Chocolate meringue muffins
So, chocolate muffins, then. I make them more times than I care to admit to and, as a dabbler, tend to add at least one extra little something: some chopped white chocolate, maybe, or some orange zest… dried cherries are surprisingly nice… sometimes I’ll decorate them with ganache, or just melted chocolate, and sometimes I just leave them alone and unadorned. This version came about after making muffins and wishing there was something else I could pipe onto them apart from buttercream, which I love, but Hubby detests. So first up for the muffins, you’ll need:
170g butter, softened
170g caster sugar
3 eggs
115g self raising flour
55g cocoa powder
So preheat the oven to 180/gas 4 and beat together the butter and sugar until they’re really light and fluffy. Add in the eggs one at a time, beating really well after each addition, then sieve the flour and cocoa into the bowl and fold them in gently. If the mixture’s a bit thick, add a slosh of milk.
Put paper muffin cups into the holes of a muffin tray and put a tablespoon of the mixture into each one (it should make about 12). Bake them for about 15/20 minutes until the centre springs back up when you push it with your finger. Leave them to cool on a wire rack:
Now, get cracking on the meringue:
Take a really clean bowl and whisk up two egg whites until they’re really stiff (yes, yes, you can do the ‘holding the bowl over someone’s head’ thing if you like). Now whisk in 115g of caster sugar one tablespoon at a time, whisking really well between each spoonful until the meringue is thick and glossy.
Now comes the fun bit. Preheat the grill to medium and then you can just dollop the meringue on top of the muffins, or you can crack open the piping kit (yay!) and pipe little swirls of meringue over the muffins. Once they’ve been piped, it’s your prerogative as Head Chef to pipe the rest of the meringue straight into your mouth. Now just let them heat gently under the grill until they’re kind of golden with a few darker tips – watch them carefully as they burn really easily. BTW: If you’re worried about eating raw eggs, you could always pipe them onto greaseproof paper on a baking tray, then bake them in a really low oven, and just stick them on top of the muffins with a spoonful of whipped cream. Yum. I was also thinking these would be lovely made without the cocoa (make up the difference with flour) and with a tsp or two of vanilla extract, then you could even add a hint of pink food colouring into the meringue – fab for a girly party.
And there you have it. Gorgeous, gooey meringue and rich chocolate cake. A mixture, I think you’ll agree, made in heaven. As I always say, there aren’t many things in this life that can’t be improved with a big dollop of meringue.
The Friday photo: simple pleasures
Shopping today, then. And it struck me that so many of the things that really make my day certainly aren’t of the Gucci handbag/Jimmy Choo variety. Here’s today’s list:
- A nice new copy of Red Magazine
- A couple of bunches of tulips (and a sunny walk up to give C her share)
- Some lovely fresh limes (I’m thinkin’ Margaritas, baby!)
- The dog doing a ridiculously gangly happy dance on our return
- A pink and sparkly early birthday card from my beautiful mate Tummy in the postbox (ah, she knows me so well)
Just little things, but I’m as happy as a pig in poo. Oh, and filling up the marshmallow pot for those hot chocky moments:
And you can keep your Jimmy Choos – I’m far too discombobulated to walk in heels anyhoo. How about you, then? Any simple pleasures?
In which Bert is bored and we put the whole greenhouse thing behind us
So forst tings forst, den (sorry), I suppose I should wish everyone a happy St Patrick’s Day. I’m not feeling particularly festive seeing as I had to drop Hubs into Dublin at 5.30am this morning (I got to Dublin in 65 minutes - a record… what? of course I wasn’t speeding). So staying on things green, I finally decided after the great flying greenhouse debacle, that I should force myself back in to the garden. And although I accept I’m not exactly green fingered (I like to think of myself as ‘chocolate fingered’, in fact), and indeed that I did allow my greenhouse to fly away, you really can’t knock me for trying. And so today was a ‘pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start all over again’ type of day. I think we just have to accept that our particular little corner of Cavan is too windy for a greenhouse (at least any type we can afford), and so we’re having to pick our plants a little carefully. Let’s face it, we’re never going to grow anything gorgeous and delicate, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try to feed ourselves. I’ve planted three shrubs that I got from the garden centre (nope, can’t remember the name, but they’re just sort of green and shrubby), that will hopefully grow up and shield the kitchen garden from the worst of the weather, and then there’s the fennel (already sprouting):
and parsley, which last year grew very large and acted as a decent windbreak, so hopefully with my sensible choices and wind resistance, something should eventually sprout. In other sprouty-type news, the rhubarb is definitely forcing itself into life (see what I did there?) underneath the terracotta pot, although the frost broke it in two, but both the chives:
…and my b-e -a-yootiful Japanese Maple are showing signs of life:
and my potatoes are chitted (steady):
and in the ground as we speak:
Sharpe’s Express are a ‘first early’ variety, ready to harvest in about June/July – they’re an ‘heirloom’ potato, much loved by Percy Thrower, doncherknow.
So here’s the state of play so far (go on, you’re impressed that I actually have a plan, aren’t you? I can tell):
Bert was seriously not impressed to have to stand (what, you want me to sit on this grass? Purleease) and watch me digging and planting. We even got an offcut of carpet out for the pampered sod to sit on, but no, it wasn’t to be. Yes, so he used to live in a shed and chase rabbits for a living, but he’s, like, totally moved on with his life, and doesn’t think one’s past should be held against one. He’s now an indoor dog and stood staring at me with that ‘will ye come on, woman, let’s move this along’ look that only a greyhound missing his sofa can muster:
I hope something grows. I know you can hardly bear the suspense, so I’ll keep you informed.
Bagels: the rather scrummy roll with a hole
I love my kitchen. I’d love it more if it was painted pink, but that’s a bit contentious on the Hubby front and might take some serious marital bargaining, probably best not described on a family blog such as this. Still, today I had a bit of a reorganisation (well, I suppose I should say ‘we’, seeing as it involved taking plugs off things and drilling holes) and moved the microwave and blender into the utility room, leaving me much more space and hopefully sorting out the ‘aaaaahhh shiiiiiiiiit!’ dilemma which occurs when picking up a very hot saucepan and not being able to find space anywhere to put it down, whilst simultaneously scorching away the skin on your fingers.
To test out my newly acquired workspace, I obviously needed a recipe with a suitable amount of fannying about involved (you can usually check this by watching my family’s reaction as they wander into the kitchen when I’m cooking – if it’s a bad one, Hubby will raise one eyebrow whilst cleverly performing a 360 and disappearing back from whence he came rather than get involved in holding up a muslin while something drains, or being enlisted to stir something). This one, then, involving all sorts of kneading and poaching and glazing and stuff, was perfect. The result, fresh out of the oven, is so densely chewy and delightful that I promise you won’t be disappointed. Credit where credit’s due, this is adapted from the recipe in Rachel Allen’s must-have tome, ‘Bake’, but simplified for the terminally cack-handed amongst us, namely me:
450g white bread flour
1 x 7g sachet of yeast
2 tsp salt
250ml warm water
2 tbsp honey
1 tbsp oil
To poach:
Boiling water
Sieve the flour into a bowl and stir in the yeast and salt. In a jug, mix the water (remember it must be nice and warm to activate the yeast) with the honey and oil. Stir the liquid into the dry ingredients and bring together into a firm dough. This needs kneading for about ten minutes and – be warned – it’s seriously tough, so if you have a dough hook on your food mixer I’d suggest you use it. Otherwise, work those pecs, baby, and whilst cursing me, you can be all smug that I’m helping guard against bingo wings.
When the dough is nice and smooth and elastic, and bounces back when you poke your finger into it, leave it somewhere warm to rise, covered with a clean tea towel, until it’s doubled in size.
Once it’s ready, divide the dough into about 6 pieces and roll them into sausages, linking them into a ring by wetting the ends and squishing them together. Once formed, put them back in the airing cupboard (or wherever) to puff up again slightly.
Preheat the oven to 220/gas 7, but remember that first you have to poach them, so get a really big pan of boiling water going. Plop the bagels in, two or three at a time and once they’ve come to the surface (watch they don’t stick to the bottom of the saucepan), give each bagel about 3 minutes bathtime, turning occasionally.
Lift them out to drain on a wire rack, then brush them with a bit of beaten egg (you can sprinkle them with stuff at this stage if you like: poppy seeds or whatever) and bake them for about 10 – 15 minutes, then turn them over and give them another 5 – 10 minutes to cook the bases. Cool on a wire rack, then eat smothered with cream cheese, or butter and jam, or peanut butter…ooh, the possibilities are endless…
EDIT: Having made this a couple of times, I’d definitely recommend that you don’t put 3 tbsp treacle in with the poaching water as Rachel Allen suggests. Not only does it create the most revolting smell, but I don’t think it really adds much in the way of flavour either.
The Friday photo: mix and match
A veritable bouquet of photies for you this morning, then. Firstly, I captured the sight of my inaugural washing line use of the year – a pinky wash, naturally – and the English Mum shirt was just a happy coincidence, not clever photoshopping (I can’t photoshop: my brain is too full of chocolate, sparkly things, red wine and double cream). Don’t you just love hanging out the washing on the first bright, shiny day of the year? Maybe Spring is er… sprunging at last:
Second, because it’s the Friday photo and Jennifer will moan otherwise, is a snap of Bert, relaxing with a nice glass of red (well, Hubby’s nice glass of red) the other night, in front of Bones. Needless to say, he didn’t pay much attention to the plot. Note to self: when I win the lottery I must buy a bigger sofa:
And lastly, a cheeky little taster of what’s to come. I’m rather proud of this photo – my new camera is certainly improving my ham-fisted attempts at food photography. I’m a testin’ and they’re a comin’:
