Christmas is clearly the highlight of the Glutton year and, as I'm so fond of telling GluttonBoy, it's very much a marathon, not a sprint. Some people take the view that you should eat light all December to balance out the end of year onslaught. I take the opposing view, that you should start early to get into Gluttony Training. You don't want to be turning down the pigs in blankets on the 25th because you've had too many morning mince pies. There is a lot of good food to get through and you need to prepare. Last year, having got up from the table in actual pain, I spent the next 20 minutes dipping leftover yorkie puds and roasties into gravy while doing the washing up.
So the upshot of this gluttony is that ones dresses are a bit snug. Of course, if you're not a glutton year-round, this isn't really the end of the world and is easily rectified. If however, like GB and my good self, you are a) a glutton b) prone to put on weight by simply looking at cake (not that I ever stop at looking) this can become an issue. And while I don't subscribe to the slim=beautiful mantra (and luckily neither does GB), I can't help but be concerned about my long term health. My father, who was very fit, ate healthily and was normal weight etc died of a sudden heart attack in his 60s and my mother has recently succumbed to type-2 diabetes in her 60s. And I come from a long line of women built for comfort rather than speed. And, lastly, as I look down the barrel of 40, I am not quite ready to give up and commit myself wholeheartedly to the caftan and the comfy slippers.
What does this mean then. That GG is going to give up gluttony? What would be the point? I'll never be a food-is-fuel person and I derive too much pleasure from reading about food, shopping for food, cooking food and eating food. I just think I maybe need to do the following:
1) change what I eat 80% of the time (the remaining 20% I can do what I like)
2) be more active
So - GB is a big fan of the paleo way of eating - avoiding refined, grain-based foods. Before The Happiest Day of My Life (when I became Mrs GG) I avoided wheat, refined carbs and dairy and I have to say I lost a ton of weight, felt better, got fit, did loads of exercise etc. Then went to Vegas on honeymoon and that was that. I do think though that sugar and refined carbs are pretty much the devil's work so we'll be avoiding that as much as possible. Lean protein, more vegetarian meals and more fruit and veg are also key. Now before someone who is paleo-expert tells me that fruit and veg are high carb and not part of a paleo diet - I am not interested in following it to the letter and I think getting some balance is more important. We're also trying to do more exercise, although GB is already pretty active. The challenge will be eating better while eating well, if you see what I mean. I'll log weight lost and recipes used but any suggestions gratefully recieved!
GG
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Make mine a pint
I'm not a beer drinker. Never have been. Even as a teen drinker I wouldn't touch it. The one exception is on a hot day or watching football, at which time I love a cold long-neck, drunk out of the bottle.
Mr Glutton has a long-standing theory that all the best food is fermented- beer, bread and cheese, and has long harboured a wish to make beer in our garage, so last Christmas i bought him a wheat beer kit. Which stayed in it's box until September when he got made redundant. Silver linings.
So funnily enough, next time I went into the garage there seemed to be 3 brewing buckets and loads of glass bottles that I hadn't seen before. To date he's made wheat beer, White house honey ale, an abbey beer and a single hops. These seem to take a variety of maturation times so he needs a few on the go to make sure there is always something ready to drink in the rotation.
But like a good husband he didn't forget his wife. I do like a fruit beer so he's very kindly brewed me a cherry beer- 30 bottles in fact. Today we bottled and capped it, and put it away until this time next year when it will be ready to drink. Thanks Mr Glutton!
Mr Glutton has a long-standing theory that all the best food is fermented- beer, bread and cheese, and has long harboured a wish to make beer in our garage, so last Christmas i bought him a wheat beer kit. Which stayed in it's box until September when he got made redundant. Silver linings.
So funnily enough, next time I went into the garage there seemed to be 3 brewing buckets and loads of glass bottles that I hadn't seen before. To date he's made wheat beer, White house honey ale, an abbey beer and a single hops. These seem to take a variety of maturation times so he needs a few on the go to make sure there is always something ready to drink in the rotation.
But like a good husband he didn't forget his wife. I do like a fruit beer so he's very kindly brewed me a cherry beer- 30 bottles in fact. Today we bottled and capped it, and put it away until this time next year when it will be ready to drink. Thanks Mr Glutton!
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Family secrets
Now the Glutton family, on both sides, is no stranger to crazy. Seriously, that's a whole blog in itself, but every family is mad in it's own special way. And while your particular variety of family crazy is, to you, normal, other people's family crazy is just, well, crazy. For example, in my family we always have yorkshire pudding with Christmas dinner. GluttonBoy's family however would consider that just plain odd. But they have BEEF for Christmas dinner, which I think is bonkers.
In the same vein, and linked to the earlier post about use-it-up recipes, every family also has a recipe that is a delicious, much loved and much anticipated favourite. That gladdens the heart when it appears but that, should it be served up to someone who has never seen it before, would elicit shudders of disgust. In GB's family, that was sausage special, a delightful blend of sausages, tomato and, bien sur, Branston Pickle. I know. Totes shudder of disgust, right? That said, I started making it after GB's mother died and it is actually not bad at all.
When I was a child and going on school trips, as you could only have fish or veggie sandwiches (I went to a Jewish primary school), sarnies were often fish paste (sardine and tomato, specifically) or mashed up pilchards (the sort in tomato sauce). In fact, I seem to remember fish paste being a standard sarnie filling in my teens as well, but GB assures me that most people wouldn't ever have eaten it. If it enters the house, he claims to be nauseated. So, bearing in mind this reliance on tomato-fishy goodness, it wouldn't surprise you to know that our family secret dish is pilchard fishcakes. My mum makes them every single time I visit (as long as GB isn't with me) as they are easy, cheap, good for you (she's diabetic) and we both love love love them. And they literally couldn't be easier.
Take one large tin of pilchards in tomato sauce (I think my mum buys the Glenryk ones which are only one step up from cat food) and shove in processor. Throw in an onion and a handful of matzo meal. Mix. If a bit sticky, add more mazto meal meal. S & P. Shape into patties, fry. If you really want to push the boat out, add a slice of cheese. Serve with a baked potato.
A good reminder that life can't always be rib-eye beef and heritage vegetables. Sometimes only the flavours of our childhood will do. And for me, that's tinned fish and tomatoes.
Love
GG
In the same vein, and linked to the earlier post about use-it-up recipes, every family also has a recipe that is a delicious, much loved and much anticipated favourite. That gladdens the heart when it appears but that, should it be served up to someone who has never seen it before, would elicit shudders of disgust. In GB's family, that was sausage special, a delightful blend of sausages, tomato and, bien sur, Branston Pickle. I know. Totes shudder of disgust, right? That said, I started making it after GB's mother died and it is actually not bad at all.
When I was a child and going on school trips, as you could only have fish or veggie sandwiches (I went to a Jewish primary school), sarnies were often fish paste (sardine and tomato, specifically) or mashed up pilchards (the sort in tomato sauce). In fact, I seem to remember fish paste being a standard sarnie filling in my teens as well, but GB assures me that most people wouldn't ever have eaten it. If it enters the house, he claims to be nauseated. So, bearing in mind this reliance on tomato-fishy goodness, it wouldn't surprise you to know that our family secret dish is pilchard fishcakes. My mum makes them every single time I visit (as long as GB isn't with me) as they are easy, cheap, good for you (she's diabetic) and we both love love love them. And they literally couldn't be easier.
Take one large tin of pilchards in tomato sauce (I think my mum buys the Glenryk ones which are only one step up from cat food) and shove in processor. Throw in an onion and a handful of matzo meal. Mix. If a bit sticky, add more mazto meal meal. S & P. Shape into patties, fry. If you really want to push the boat out, add a slice of cheese. Serve with a baked potato.
A good reminder that life can't always be rib-eye beef and heritage vegetables. Sometimes only the flavours of our childhood will do. And for me, that's tinned fish and tomatoes.
Love
GG
Sunday, September 30, 2012
What's at the bottom of the fridge...
I have a theory that every family has a sort of recipe that is brought into play to use up odds and ends in the fridge. When I was younger, my mum would make a quiche with half a courgette, some wrinkled old peppers and whatever else was on the turn but not plentiful enough to be the star turn of a meal. GluttonBoy tells me his mother used to make soup for the same reason.
In our house, our 'thing' is frittata- a brilliant Sunday night solution to use up whatever is lurking in the bottom of the vegetable drawer. I have two golden rules though, which help make it a bit less leftover-y- one, to roast as many of the veg as possible in advance (that bit of charring adds so much flavour) and if there is chorizo on the fridge, then there's chorizo in the frittata.
Yesterday's effort involved me roasting some butternut squash that had definitely seen better days, a red pepper, new potatoes and carrots. That done, I fried plenty of chorizo and some courgette and mushrooms, then added all the roasted veg. Six eggs, a generous sprinkle of Parmesan, 25 mins in a medium oven until golden and 10 minutes resting- done.
Eat with a fork, on the sofa, watching Downton.
Happy Sunday
GG
In our house, our 'thing' is frittata- a brilliant Sunday night solution to use up whatever is lurking in the bottom of the vegetable drawer. I have two golden rules though, which help make it a bit less leftover-y- one, to roast as many of the veg as possible in advance (that bit of charring adds so much flavour) and if there is chorizo on the fridge, then there's chorizo in the frittata.
Yesterday's effort involved me roasting some butternut squash that had definitely seen better days, a red pepper, new potatoes and carrots. That done, I fried plenty of chorizo and some courgette and mushrooms, then added all the roasted veg. Six eggs, a generous sprinkle of Parmesan, 25 mins in a medium oven until golden and 10 minutes resting- done.
Eat with a fork, on the sofa, watching Downton.
Happy Sunday
GG
Christmas
Now I know it is, for today at least, only September, but as the evenings get darker and mornings chillier, a glutton's thoughts inevitably turn to the festive season which is, for the truly greedy amongst us, is the highlight of the year.
And it's not only the main meal itself which is so good, although I do look forward to it enormously, but the cheese/cold meats hurrah of boxing day, the endless pastry grazing, the using up of bits and pieces, the chocolate, the boozing and, from the 2nd January, the lurch to miso soup and steamed greens in order to prevent what our continental neighbours would call a crise de foie.
So an integral part of Christmas for me are condiments, and, as befits someone who likes to feel all smug, I enjoy making a load of chutneys and pickles to give as gifts, take to people along with wine and, of course, open with the cheese. And chutneys needing time to mature, early October is a serious making time.
The main list this year includes:
Rhubarb and apple chutney for the neighbours
Boxing-day chutney for colleagues
Fig Mostarda, wholegrain beer mustard and ale chutney for the girls
Clementine and cointreau marmalade for general use
And that doesn't include the ad-hocs such as quince jelly or cranberry jelly.
Using the last of the apples from our courtyard, I've already made the rhubarb/apple chutney, which is awaiting decorating with festive labels etc. I've got a day off work in OCtober to crack through the rest of it and actually it gives me enormous satisfaction (what's that feeling called, is it smugness?) to know it's all done. As the weather turns cold, 'putting up', even if its not going to be eaten by us, feels like a defense against the colder months (as I think I've said before).
The Clem/Coint marmalade is also nearly made - I'll blog the recipe once it's done. I've only got one jar left of last year's batch and it's been my favourite of the year.
My other early Christmas preparation - two tins of quality st bought and put away to be resisted until the 24th December!
Festive wishes,
GG
And it's not only the main meal itself which is so good, although I do look forward to it enormously, but the cheese/cold meats hurrah of boxing day, the endless pastry grazing, the using up of bits and pieces, the chocolate, the boozing and, from the 2nd January, the lurch to miso soup and steamed greens in order to prevent what our continental neighbours would call a crise de foie.
So an integral part of Christmas for me are condiments, and, as befits someone who likes to feel all smug, I enjoy making a load of chutneys and pickles to give as gifts, take to people along with wine and, of course, open with the cheese. And chutneys needing time to mature, early October is a serious making time.
The main list this year includes:
Rhubarb and apple chutney for the neighbours
Boxing-day chutney for colleagues
Fig Mostarda, wholegrain beer mustard and ale chutney for the girls
Clementine and cointreau marmalade for general use
And that doesn't include the ad-hocs such as quince jelly or cranberry jelly.
Using the last of the apples from our courtyard, I've already made the rhubarb/apple chutney, which is awaiting decorating with festive labels etc. I've got a day off work in OCtober to crack through the rest of it and actually it gives me enormous satisfaction (what's that feeling called, is it smugness?) to know it's all done. As the weather turns cold, 'putting up', even if its not going to be eaten by us, feels like a defense against the colder months (as I think I've said before).
The Clem/Coint marmalade is also nearly made - I'll blog the recipe once it's done. I've only got one jar left of last year's batch and it's been my favourite of the year.
My other early Christmas preparation - two tins of quality st bought and put away to be resisted until the 24th December!
Festive wishes,
GG
Sunday, June 10, 2012
You can't beat nurture
I often think how funny it is that things you hated as a child turn out to be things you cherish as an adult. Like going to tea shops that serve cream horns. For me, one particularly hated activity that rolled around every year was picking blackberries on Hackney marshes.
My parents were obsessed with it. Every bloody Autumn off we'd go, walking across disused railway lines (which of course I was terrified weren't actually disused), to scratch ourselves senseless picking fruit I didn't even like. Mum would spend ages turning it into a sort of compote in the freezer, which then I'd have to tolerate ruining perfectly good ice cream.
Now, however, I'd walk a long way for a bountiful patch of brambles and like nothing more than having pink-stained figures as a badge of honour. What I like most though is the satisfaction of urban foraging and producing something delicious which was essentially free.
This time of year is elderflower season, and Peckham Rye seems to be full of huge swathes of creamy flowers, itching to be made into something good. The floral sweetness of elderflower is absolutely one of my favourite tastes - it is absolutely a gentle English summer. After the Great Cordial Disaster of 2011, I've been afeared of bottling it, but, having also had a batch of my mum's rhubarb needing to be eaten, thought I'd transform it into a rhubarb and elderflower jam.
The method was a bit odd - wrap the elderflowers in a muslin and place in a bowl, chop up the rhubarb and layer on top, add the sugar. Now I had twice as many elderflowers as the recipe said, because I like it and couldn't believe the flavour would infuse otherwise. I also didn't have any muslin so used a clean popsock (which is what I always use for marmalade too). I ignored the instructions to give it a toss every 12 hours for 2 days and just left it, covered for about a week. Tbh, I was expecting some kind of mouldy fruit hell when I took the foil off but the sugar had transformed into an elderflower infused syrup in which the rhubarb chunks seemed to be bobbing away fairly happily.
So, I tipped the whole lot into a pan, simmered until the fruit was soft (not including the elderflower), then ramped up the heat to a roiling boil until it set (a soft set, it has to be said).
Generally, I'm not one to boast, but it is pretty much the nicest jam I've ever tasted - an undercurrent of sharp rhubarb but a bright, floral flavour that makes your mouth feel fairly happy. I plan to swirl some through a vanilla sponge before baking, and I can't help but think it would be pretty awesome on a scone, topped with a big dollop of clotted cream.
So, my pantry (well, shelf in my garage) is all the richer and I won't be sharing it with anyone, because I love it so much.
Hurrah for elderflowers I say.
With love
GG
My parents were obsessed with it. Every bloody Autumn off we'd go, walking across disused railway lines (which of course I was terrified weren't actually disused), to scratch ourselves senseless picking fruit I didn't even like. Mum would spend ages turning it into a sort of compote in the freezer, which then I'd have to tolerate ruining perfectly good ice cream.
Now, however, I'd walk a long way for a bountiful patch of brambles and like nothing more than having pink-stained figures as a badge of honour. What I like most though is the satisfaction of urban foraging and producing something delicious which was essentially free.
This time of year is elderflower season, and Peckham Rye seems to be full of huge swathes of creamy flowers, itching to be made into something good. The floral sweetness of elderflower is absolutely one of my favourite tastes - it is absolutely a gentle English summer. After the Great Cordial Disaster of 2011, I've been afeared of bottling it, but, having also had a batch of my mum's rhubarb needing to be eaten, thought I'd transform it into a rhubarb and elderflower jam.
The method was a bit odd - wrap the elderflowers in a muslin and place in a bowl, chop up the rhubarb and layer on top, add the sugar. Now I had twice as many elderflowers as the recipe said, because I like it and couldn't believe the flavour would infuse otherwise. I also didn't have any muslin so used a clean popsock (which is what I always use for marmalade too). I ignored the instructions to give it a toss every 12 hours for 2 days and just left it, covered for about a week. Tbh, I was expecting some kind of mouldy fruit hell when I took the foil off but the sugar had transformed into an elderflower infused syrup in which the rhubarb chunks seemed to be bobbing away fairly happily.
So, I tipped the whole lot into a pan, simmered until the fruit was soft (not including the elderflower), then ramped up the heat to a roiling boil until it set (a soft set, it has to be said).
Generally, I'm not one to boast, but it is pretty much the nicest jam I've ever tasted - an undercurrent of sharp rhubarb but a bright, floral flavour that makes your mouth feel fairly happy. I plan to swirl some through a vanilla sponge before baking, and I can't help but think it would be pretty awesome on a scone, topped with a big dollop of clotted cream.
So, my pantry (well, shelf in my garage) is all the richer and I won't be sharing it with anyone, because I love it so much.
Hurrah for elderflowers I say.
With love
GG
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Let them eat cake
As befits a bit of an old-school leftie, I'm not a huge fan of the monarchy, apart from Harry, who I would make an exception for, if he ever found himself at a loose end in Peckham. And knowing he likes a smoke (or used to at least), that might well come to pass.
That said, what I do love is a bit of old-school Britishness, which for some reason, in the past, we have been a bit shy of doing, as if waving a flag and being a bit pleased with ourselves is something that funny old Johnny Foreigner would do but is a bit swank, and we don't do it. Now that is patently nonsense of course and the last few years has seen a bit of a resurgence in Brit-chic, albeit viewed through Cath Kidston-tinted spectacles. I bow to no-one in my love of a vision of Britain which includes the following: going to the seaside in the winter/rain, the National Trust, ice cream, bunting, Fortnum & Mason, egg and spoon races, afternoon tea, a curry, hot concrete around an inner-city lido.
The last day of work before the Jubilee weekend was obviously one of high spirits. We also had a birthday to celebrate, which happened to be the colleague who buys the cakes for everyone else and who is a sugarcraft whizz, so I volunteered to knock up a cake. Generally, for all that I love a fancy-schmancy choco-peanut-mallow confection that is simply diabtes waiting to happen, a sunny (ha!) bank holiday Jubilee weekend meant there really was only one option -a lovely Vicky Sponge, or as I shall refer to it from now on, a Lizzy Sponge. As it happens, I am a bit of a master of the Lizzy Sponge and fancied showing off a bit so that was a bit of luck.
I used the classic proportions - 4 eggs, 200g of everything else. My method was less classic - shove it all in the Kitchenaid before even taking coat off after work, beat like fury until it looks right, shove in oven. Done.
I did the assembling at work to avoid any slippage - strawberry jam and whipped cream in the middle, dusted with vanilla icing sugar and decorated with fresh strawberries and a little flag. My colleague Mazz made a white chocolate and macadamia cake, which was was light, creamy and a good partner to the Lizzy sponge. My husband is a bit annoyed that he didn't get to try it but I've made him an elderflower drizzle cake by way of compensation (more on that another time) and, anyway, he shouldnt be eating cake before his Norway bike ride, so I was actually doing him a favour.
So, in conclusion, any British celebration would be made better by a Lizzy sponge. And anyone who disagrees is just doolally.
In Britishness,
GG
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Ten minutes, two people
There are times when sourcing ingredients for dinner is half the fun. When browsing shops and recipes is a leisure pursuit, when you want your home to slowly fill with the scent of something slowly roasting or simmering gently in the oven.
And there are times when you just want to get dinner on the fricking table. Days when your train is delayed and there are also delays on the district line. When even the Asda is shut and you have nothing but glace cherries, peanut butter and gravy granules in the cupboard. And you are, bien sur, also starving.
Now while I am all for shopping at local indepdents and having a chat about provenance, there are times when only Tesco Express will do. I hate TE for many reasons, not least that they are expensive, only stock the most expensive of everything and a huge array of processed food, I have one 20 seconds from my flat so find myself there more often than not. So when I found this recipe for a super-quick dinner with TE-type ingredients, I was actually pretty grateful and it is something I whip up often on a Monday night when I get home at nearly 9 from Zumba. I start it before I've even got my coat off and dinner can be on the table in 15 minutes from getting in through the door.
Heat 1 tsp of rapeseed oil in a large frying pan
Add three spring onion, finely sliced, and also a red chili if you want
Add two salmon fillets, chopped into large chunks
When they are a bit cooked, add a pack of prawns
When nearly cooked, throw in 1/2 tablespoon of soy, the same of fish sauce and a tsp of mirin.
Stir, don't worry if the salmon flakes
Add in udon noodles, enough for two.
Stir.
I generally now sit down for 5 minutes to let the whole mess catch slightly on the bottom of the pan.
Stir and serve. It is suggested that some chopped coriander might be nice to finish it off but I would rather starve than choose to eat the herb-that-can't-be-named.
And, if you have something nice for dinner on a Monday, it makes Monday a bit less bad. Although, I've often been of the opinion that it is actually Tuesday which is the worst day of the week, but that's for another day.
GG x
And there are times when you just want to get dinner on the fricking table. Days when your train is delayed and there are also delays on the district line. When even the Asda is shut and you have nothing but glace cherries, peanut butter and gravy granules in the cupboard. And you are, bien sur, also starving.
Now while I am all for shopping at local indepdents and having a chat about provenance, there are times when only Tesco Express will do. I hate TE for many reasons, not least that they are expensive, only stock the most expensive of everything and a huge array of processed food, I have one 20 seconds from my flat so find myself there more often than not. So when I found this recipe for a super-quick dinner with TE-type ingredients, I was actually pretty grateful and it is something I whip up often on a Monday night when I get home at nearly 9 from Zumba. I start it before I've even got my coat off and dinner can be on the table in 15 minutes from getting in through the door.
Heat 1 tsp of rapeseed oil in a large frying pan
Add three spring onion, finely sliced, and also a red chili if you want
Add two salmon fillets, chopped into large chunks
When they are a bit cooked, add a pack of prawns
When nearly cooked, throw in 1/2 tablespoon of soy, the same of fish sauce and a tsp of mirin.
Stir, don't worry if the salmon flakes
Add in udon noodles, enough for two.
Stir.
I generally now sit down for 5 minutes to let the whole mess catch slightly on the bottom of the pan.
Stir and serve. It is suggested that some chopped coriander might be nice to finish it off but I would rather starve than choose to eat the herb-that-can't-be-named.
And, if you have something nice for dinner on a Monday, it makes Monday a bit less bad. Although, I've often been of the opinion that it is actually Tuesday which is the worst day of the week, but that's for another day.
GG x
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Ribs!
There are times you want delicate flavours, and there are times you want big flavours. And Saturday night, to my mind, is a big flavour night. There is a fashion right now for beef short ribs, and it's been something I wanted to try. I once had a slightly unfortunate night in Bodean's when I ordered beef ribs and they turned out to be like something from the Flintstones and not very easy to eat.
Beef short ribs though are a different story - and they are much more satisfying to eat than pork ribs, which seem like a lot of work for not much pay-off. Beef ribs need long, slow cooking and there is something about barbeque flavours which seem to be perfect. The US tradition of long, gentle barbeque that is, not the English tradition of hot searing which leaves the outside burnt and the inside raw.
Jamie Oliver's America book provided the solution although his recipe called for beef ribs in a piece but it worked beautifully with cut ones. I hadn't seen beef ribs before (I've had a sheltered life) so wasn't sure what to expect, but they were magnificent, with huge hunks of beef attached.
Cooking them took 7 hours, although the actual involvement I had to have took about 15 minutes, which is the kind of cooking I can get on board with.
Start by brushing the ribs all over with American mustard - I used French's.
Then, make a rub: for 1.2kg of ribs I used 1.5 tbsp sweet smoked Paprika, 1/2 teaspoon of salt, a generous grind of black better and 1.5 tbsp of corn oil. You could also add some chilli powder but I don't really like hot hot so left it out and can't believe it was any the worse for it. The mix was rubbed all over the meat, including the bone side. Put them bone side down into a ro
asting tin. And that, is it. Into an oven at 130 for 5 hours.
asting tin. And that, is it. Into an oven at 130 for 5 hours.Stage 2 - just before the 5 hours are up, mix 1.5 tbsp demerara with 1.5 tbsp honey, a knob of butter, a splash of water and 1/2 a beef stock cube. (Annoyingly, Mr Glutton had made some beautiful beef stock in the week and I couldn't find it otherwise I would have used that instead). Heat until all is mixed. Take the ribs out of the oven and set aside.
Roll out some heavy duty foil and pour on (carefully!) the marinade. Lay on the ribs meat side down and wrap the foil over them to make a little parcel. Wrap in an additional piece of foil, then put back into the oven for 1.hr 15 mins.
When that time is up, drain of any fat/liquid in the pan, unwrap the ribs and put them back in the pan unwrapped, meat side up. Turn the heat up to to 140 and cook for another 50 mins.
Take out of the oven and rest on a board for about 15 mins.
I made some coleslaw with white cabbage, red onion, granny smith apple and carrot - dressed with mayonnaise and wholegrain mustard.
So, it's not everyday that I boast (no, honestly) but I have to say, these rocked. Dark, thick crust of sweet, chewy meat, soft and pink underneath. Perfect with the cool, crispy, fresh slaw. We're already planning when we can make them again but it does take some planning as it isn't everyday that I'm in house for 7 hours tbh. I think it would be better in a piece, but sure the butcher won't mind and, next time I also think I'll make a double quantity so I can shred the meat and make po'boy sandwiches the next day, with loads of pickles and a good slather of mustard. Right, must make some brekkie as I am now starving.
Lots of love, GG.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Eat to live, live to eat
It's all been a bit quiet on the GluttonGirl front of late, I know you've missed me. I started a new job in January which seems to combine long hours with a long commute, a combination which brings me much joy, so cooking and eating has been about speed, ease and what I can get at Asda, as opposed to sourcing ingredients lovingly.
The last few months have been about, for the first time in many years, eating for fuel, eating to live, getting something on the table which is quite nice and tasty and not the same thing as we ate last week. And when you shop in small inner city supermarkets, rather than nice ones with lots of choice, or independents, or the market, you become reliant on chicken thighs, sausages and pork chops. All of which I love but after a few months aren't really setting the culinary world on fire. So I've kept quiet of late, but times, they are a changing.
I've missed cooking for sheer pleasure, I've missed browing cookbooks (and lord knows I've no shortage of them), I've missed hunting out things I haven't eaten before, I've missed going to the butcher, the greengrocer, the Spanish deli, the Mexican supplier. I'm luckier than most people - GluttonBoy manages a super-nice deli in Clapham (Macfarlanes in Abbeville Road, if you happen to be passing) so I've got easy access to some good meat, cheese and deli. I particularly recommend the chorizo.
So, with Spring and all the good eating it brings now here, I can't wait to get started. I've ordered a couple of new cookbooks - Scandilicious and Claudia Roden's new Spanish book - to get through.
And I'm starting tonight - pork belly roasted on a bed of potatoes. Imagine how sticky and porky those potatoes will be from being roasted underneath some fatty pork. And if there are any leftovers, they're going in a crusty roll for my lunch tomorrow, smeared with some meaty pan juices. That's some good eating.
The last few months have been about, for the first time in many years, eating for fuel, eating to live, getting something on the table which is quite nice and tasty and not the same thing as we ate last week. And when you shop in small inner city supermarkets, rather than nice ones with lots of choice, or independents, or the market, you become reliant on chicken thighs, sausages and pork chops. All of which I love but after a few months aren't really setting the culinary world on fire. So I've kept quiet of late, but times, they are a changing.
I've missed cooking for sheer pleasure, I've missed browing cookbooks (and lord knows I've no shortage of them), I've missed hunting out things I haven't eaten before, I've missed going to the butcher, the greengrocer, the Spanish deli, the Mexican supplier. I'm luckier than most people - GluttonBoy manages a super-nice deli in Clapham (Macfarlanes in Abbeville Road, if you happen to be passing) so I've got easy access to some good meat, cheese and deli. I particularly recommend the chorizo.
So, with Spring and all the good eating it brings now here, I can't wait to get started. I've ordered a couple of new cookbooks - Scandilicious and Claudia Roden's new Spanish book - to get through.
And I'm starting tonight - pork belly roasted on a bed of potatoes. Imagine how sticky and porky those potatoes will be from being roasted underneath some fatty pork. And if there are any leftovers, they're going in a crusty roll for my lunch tomorrow, smeared with some meaty pan juices. That's some good eating.
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