The end of WMPC???

And yet again there has been a lull in the movement that is Where's My Pork Chop? Just like the aftermath of a party, the good intentions and ideas behind this little project now, seemingly, lie littered on the floor amongst streamers, fag butts, chicken bones, empty wine glasses and empty tupperware boxes. As always it's fun at the time, chatting, laughing, drinking, doing the hokey cokey with my fellow bloggers. But lately whenever I go on these mad expeditions or food swaps, I keep finding myself perched on the edge of the bed nursing a fuzzy head the next day, fingers over my eyes, thumbs rubbing my temples desperately trying to get the ol' grey matter going. At the root of this particular hangover lies a simple question that I ask myself before sitting down in front of the computer. 'How am I going to write this one up then?' It's probably something that a lot of bloggers ask themselves, wanting to keep their posts fresh and original. Personally, this has meant going off on whimsical flights of fancy, scribbling down nonsensical journeys into the inner gubbings of my mind and sometimes the content is not always related to food. And as a result this has started to become a bit of a mute point when it comes to writing up a WMPC post. Brainy from the Numbskulls is starting to run out of ideas to put in the suggestion box. I don't want to say for a second that the party is over because I love meeting and connecting with people under this wonderful umbrella of food. But I think for WMPC to continue, I need to focus a bit more on the blogger and about reviewing the meals they send my way, to be perhaps a bit more succinct and not get too tied up in trying to fire off some witty parable. So there, I've said it. WMPC will carry on but in future it will be short, sharp and to the point.

And besides how could I even think about jacking it all in? Especially now that WMPC has gone international! Yes I received my very first food package from abroad (well second if you consider Scotland) way back in December all the way from Holland! Boo Yah! Man, it's a druggy cliche but the shit that Luc Martin sent me was amazing. I haven't had this much fun since the time I swallowed 12 space cakes at Glastonbury '94 and ran off to the Green Field wearing my sister's dress, screaming that I had transformed and shrunk into Willow Ufgood. It took my mates 3 hours to talk me down from an ancient oak tree that night but we still laugh about it from time to time....................... (stop it FU, stop it)

Erm yes, so I am now swapping food across the seas having engaged and bonded with Luc over the magic of Twitter. In his blog Roast Chicken and Red Wine, Luc displays a fondness for the unusual and is therefore a man after my own heart. For instance, his account of cooking hare is both funny and informative in which he praises the flavour of the animal whilst all the while highlighting the necessity of using a clothes peg when preparing it. And Luc certainly knows how to get the most out of ingredients. In return for his food packages he requested that I send him the finest black pudding in all off Laaandan Taan. After much deliberation (maybe too much) I couriered over some slices of blood sausage from Stornoway and a selection of Henderson's mini black, white and chorizo mixed puds, all purchased at Borough Market. Over a period of about 5 days, I could only watch my screen in amazement as he tweeted (with pictures) various meals, all with a black pudding element. Ribeye burgers topped with black pudding, eggs benedict and black pudding, black pudding on pizza and finally steak and black pudding...pudding. I really didn't think I had sent him that much. But he obviously enjoyed it for which I am glad as this iron-rich, colon busting package was sent in thanks for the Dutch goodies Luc had sent me a few weeks previous.

Unfortunately I wasn't so creative with the smoked salami-type sausage and pancetta that he sent me, along with some aged Gouda cheese and yep you guessed it, some black pudding. We received the package during the full on festival of gluttony that is Christmas so rather than knocking up some fancy meals like ol' fancy wooden clogs Luc, the FU clan used the meats and cheese to graze on as we were want to do throughout the whole fattening period. The charcuterie was very good indeed and survived the journey well, the sausage was smokey as to be expected but also with a nice spice. The aged Gouda really was interesting as this was quite hard and salty, similar to Parmesan in some respect and totally different to the creamier, rubbery texture I have encountered before. The closest I got to cooking and conjuring up a meal was when I fried the black pudding and constructed an open sandwich using a slice of rye bread, some of the cheese and a fried egg. Typical hangover breakfast material really but the blood sausage with delicious. Dense, iodine and supreme savoury. I am bit perplexed in fact as to why he was so eager that I send black pudding his way.

Thanks again Luc for sending your contribution over the waters and apologies to the delay in getting this post done. Believe me there have been many incarnations.

And lets get the International Preserves Exchange underway. Now that's something we could both get our teeth into.

And last but not least, let's get on with some more WMPC adventures, are you interested in feeding me?

Vac-packed goodies from the Netherlands

Hangover brekkie

Aged Gouda

Dutch charcuterie

Grazing

Never Ever Give Up Your Staff Discount Card

Back in the summer whilst idly slouching on the sofa in my pants, watching the box and repeatedly shoving fistfuls of twiglets into my mouth (hey that's how I like to relax), I got a text from my brother-in-law. It simply said 'Dan are you watching MasterChef? Fucking Sliney is on it!' Now please forgive an expletive so early in the post but you have to understand, my brother-in-law was making a powerful statement here. To explain further, you also have to understand who Sliney is. At the risk of enlarging his already bulbous head, Sliney was the enforcer on the rugby team that I used to be in. During the heat of a match, he would often come flying in from out of nowhere should there be the merest hint of a fracas. I think he preferred fighting to rugby. A wild card and a crude man but he was also viciously funny. So you can imagine my reaction when I did switch over and spotted this huge brute quietly explaining his delicate duck starter to Torode and Wallace.

"Fuck me Sliney is on MasterChef!" I shouted, springing to my feet, spitting twiglets everywhere.

It really didn't make any sense, past just didn't marry up to present. I had witnessed this man carry out numerous unmentionables and pranks (what goes on rugby tour, stays on rugby tour) and there he was fretting over presenting his rack of lamb, handling it as if it were some precious newborn. Weird, very weird. So shortly after, I engaged in some email conversation with him. To cut a long story short, Sliney simply went onto MasterChef to push his cooking further (who ever knew that enjoyed cooking in the first place). Over the years he had gone through many different jobs but underlying throughout, he always had strong passion for food (again, who knew!) and wanted to pop his head over the parapet to see if he could take it somewhere. And I can totally appreciate that because it's something that I am trying to do with my food writing, although my arrow is slightly aimless. I haven't been in touch with the big man since but I hope he is plugging away and that one day, I'll find out that he's opened his own restaurant somewhere. I sincerely believe that it is possible to turn things around as long as you work hard at it. This link is tenuous at best but when I met Neil of The Lambshank Redemption for a WMPC swap, after having a chat with him at Dose coffee shop near Smithfield, his story is testimony to all of this. Of course I am not saying for a second that Neil has ever shat in a pint glass, waved his willy at French policemen or ate a can of Whiskas in under a minute. I am just saying that in his pursuit to become a full-time freelance writer, like Sliney he has undertaken a fair few jobs along the way. And quite possibly, Neil could have played loosehead prop at some point.

In his own words Neil's CV is "fucking hilarious" having made transitions from private banking to cheese monger to events organising at Albert Hall, all fairly disparate you might say with some years out in the wilderness building a reputation as a writer. His scary tales of securing positions at publication houses, only to discover shortly after that the whole deck is about to collapse gave a great insight into the industry. However, after 10 years of plowing on through stormy and calm seas alike, Neil now seems to be in the enviable position of getting the sweet stuff. I follow a few freelance writers on Twitter but I have to say that Neil is one of the more annoying ones. Forever advertising the hardship of driving around the Highlands in Bentleys, sampling whiskey or having to fly off 'somewhere', well it can all get rather grating. But I forgive Neil because I really like his humorous, cynical style of prose and plus there's the fact that he originally hails from Harold Wood and is therefore a true Son of Essex. Even better is that we shall soon be venturing on a Pie and Mashcapade together, a trawl around some of London's finest cockney cafes to sample as much gluey potato and unidentifiable, fetid mince as possible. All smothered in a palid green liquor, laaaverly. I shall be stumping up for a few pots of eels in return for the sumptuous feast that Neil provided.

The bag that Neil handed over was fairly weighty and as he did so he explained with twinkle in his eye that he enjoyed large portions. Which probably raised an eyebrow or two in the close confines of the small coffee shop in which we sat but I was oblivious to this as I peered in and immediately got a waft of cheese. For my supper, Neil announced that I was having some the haddock chowder he enjoyed the previous night along with a special chocolate rice pudding. The piece de resistance though was a fine selection of cheese. Yes his career in cheesemongeryness may be far behind him but Neil has still managed to keep hold of his Neal's Yard staff discount card. And to be fair why would you ever relinquish that? Another quiet night in the office meant that yet another WMPC would have to be enjoyed at home but that's never any skin of my nose. Give me that to working until four in the morning any day of the week. Neil's chowder was certainly substantial and packed with flavour with lovely chunks of pepper, sweetcorn and slithers of salty bacon. It was probably more dense than any chowder that I've tried before but I wasn't complaining and I really appreciated the peppery undertones, Neil's seasoning was perfectly balanced against the rich, creaminess of the dish. I also liked the way he created a twist on rice pudding, adding a bit of Terry's chocolate orange magic to the mix by melting a whole chocolate orange or by using an orange liqueur, I'm not entirely sure. It was very good either way but perhaps a bit too much after the very filling chowder. In fact, I was fit to bust and had to leave the cheese till the next day but ensured that I got it out of the fridge nice and early to breathe in time for lunch. Neil's selection - Ardrahan, Kirkhams Lancashire, Tunworth, Colston Basset, Red Leicester and a goats cheese which he told me the name of but forgot to make a note - was fantastic. All quite individual in character with their own qualities, I can safely say that I enjoyed all of them. Well OK the runny, gloopy, funky, pungent Tunworth was my favourite but even the Red Leicester was great. I find the supermarket variants of this cheese can be fairly bland but the one that Neil chose was lovely and strong. Cheesy heaven.

Thanks again Neil, I'm looking forward to our forthcoming Pie and Mashcapade.

The Stash

Neil's Haddock, Bacon and Sweetcorn Chowder

Close Up

Chocolate Rice Pudding

CHEEEEEESE!

Breville, Be Gone!

There have been plenty of surreal moments in my life, with images and scenes that will stay in my mind forever. For instance, at a student party I will never forget walking into the living room at 2am and confronting the sight of some strange bloke playing the guitar very badly whilst the sofa behind him was on fire. Then there was the time when I found myself at G-A-Y, busting some serious moves and getting spun around the dance floor by a 6'7 drag queen. This was particularly bizarre as I was under the illusion at the time that it was indie night at The Astoria. And more recently, I was completely thrown when sitting on the floor with the twins one morning. We were watching an engrossing episode of Balamory you see when all of a sudden, who should pop up in Suzy Sweet's kitchen but none other than Keith Floyd himself. I had only just heard about his passing on the news earlier so it was quite unnerving to watch Floyd bounce about the place, throwing meatballs in the air to the beat of Suzie's Cookin'. Perhaps CBeebies saw fit to air that particular episode as a glowing tribute to the great man but it freaked me out I can tell you. The weirdness that day didn't stop there though.

I had arranged to meet Mr Jonathan Brown of Around Britain With A Paunch at St Paul's Cathedral in the afternoon and was running quite late. Once my fellow colleagues finally sauntered back from their lunches, I made a mad dash from the office in the pouring rain, getting thoroughly soaked in the process. When I finally clambered up the slippery steps to the entrance, I found a very dapper and dry Browners standing there grinning from ear to ear with a box under his arm. A box that from it's outside appearance would have originally contained an iron.

"Hi Danny, here's your supper!" he said, still beaming, manically even. I expressed my thanks and then excitedly flipped open the box to inspect it's contents.

The box did in fact contain an iron. I looked up at Jonathan and then back at the iron and then back at Jonathan who by now resembled the proverbial Cheshire Cat. I just looked confused.

Sensing my befuddlement, Jonathan went on to explain "well seeing as you're a fan of Stefan Gates and his gastronaught style of cooking, I thought you could have some fun making a cheese toastie. There's a sandwich in the box wrapped in foil with some pretty good Montgomery Cheddar".

And that's when the penny dropped, my mission was to use the iron as an alternative to the Breville Toaster. Excellent. I should have known better really that the sandwichist would have come up with something like this though. He had also supplied a jar of apple and apricot chutney and a jar of chilli and crab apple jelly, both homemade along with some plums and pears from his garden. For the exchange I took him over to Apostrophe for lunch (where else could it have been really) and caught a quick half hour chatting about the merits of blogging and 'freebies'.

After bidding Mr Brown farewell, I got back to the office, placed the box under my desk and got on with the rest of the day. Yet as evening approached, it was soon time again to start thinking about getting the iron out to cook my toastie and at this point I did start to have some worries. In the end I decided that I would try the experiment at home, partly because I am trying to keep this project under wraps at work and partly because I didn't want my work mates to think I'd gone completely hatstand.

So did it work? Well Jonathan had slathered a fair amount of butter on both sides of the bread as you normally would when making a cheese toastie for a Breville. But I don't think he factored in that I would be making my first attempt at grilling with the iron turned up to full blast. This had near disastrous consequences. As I placed the Hinari Toasty Special down on the bread, there was an immediate loud pop and hiss which just didn't sound right. So I picked the iron up again only to find the sandwich stuck steadfast to the element. My natural reaction was to try and peel the damn thing off and naturally I burned my fingers. So after much profanity and waving of hand in the air, I grabbed a fish slice and managed to wrestle the bread away from the plate. Luckily it wasn't burnt. Much. I then figured that more butter was in order and that the heat should be turned down. I tentatively placed the iron back down and then waited for about a minute. I then picked it up and all looked well, the bread was starting to brown ever so slightly. And so I carried on this process for about 15 minutes, flipping the sandwich over to do the other side and over again and over again. Never before have I paid such attention to 2 slices of bread. In fact, it was quite laborious really. But once I decided that this toastie had reached its zenith, I cut it in two and placed it on a plate and the cheese oozed satisfyingly out. And yes it tasted good, the cheese was indeed nice and mature but unfortunately, my throbbing fingers detracted my attention somewhat. Luckily I had bought a fine bottle of red to raise a glass to Mr Floyd so wasn't in pain for too long.

I will definitely give the Hinari Toasty Special another crack in the future, it just needs some fine tuning methinks. Thanks Jonathan for introducing the 'iron-method' and for the other goodies. Your chutney by the way really hits the spot. Cheers!

Introducing the All New Hinari Toastie Special

Snap, Crackle and Pop

Raising a glass to the finest of television chefs, Mr Floyd