Eat Your Heart Out Heston

It happened again last night. The recurring dream. Or nightmare as the case may be. I am back in school, walking down the main corridor next to the refectory and slowly but surely, the other pupils start to point and laugh. I can't understand why so I just hold my head up high and carry on walking, trying to get to my class on time. But the jeering and hysterics reach an unbearable crescendo. Even teachers passing by erupt into spasms of laughter. It feels like everybody has their eyes on me and the pressure of this claustrophobia is immense. My head feels like it's going to cave in. And then it hits me, the realisation that I am stark bollock naked. And there's nothing I can do about it except run. Or wake up in a cold sweat.

Psychoanalysts would probably have a field day with the significance of this but I think it basically boils down to a nagging feeling that I could have done better at school. Don't get me wrong, I loved school but in some lessons, I should have paid more attention and perhaps not been so mischievous. Take science for instance, I ran riot. I shall never forget Mr Carthy's face turn ashen when I explained that I had just stuck the tip of a thermometer into the bunsen burner and that poisonous mercury had sprayed all over the ceiling of the classroom (Alan Kwok put me up to that). He turned apoplectic when he found out that I had 'accidentally' set alight to his makeshift greenhouse at the back of the classroom. Well it had been crudely constructed out of cling film and garden canes, anyone wondering around with a lit splint could have done it. I do however feel pangs of guilt when I think about poor old Dr Goswami and the stress we put her thorough. Originally from Bangladesh, she had rather a strong Bengali accent which to us mean-spirited kids was a source of great amusement. During one lesson, Dr Goswami was instructing us through an experiment, telling the class to make sure that we kept our thumbs on the test tube whilst gently shaking it. Unfortunately her pronunciation of "thumb" sounded like "tongue" so cue 30 idiots sticking their flappy, pink dorsums over the top of said test tubes and wiggling their heads back and forth. She very nearly burst into tears as she screamed over and over again "No look! Use your tongue! YOUR TONGUE!". Like I said, children can be cruel so Dr Goswami I would dearly like to apologise for our actions that day. And thank you for resisting the temptation to repeat the experiment later that week with potassium chloride.

As a result of all this tomfoolery, I'd say that my appreciation of science is limited and narrow-minded. And if we delve further into the realms of food science, my understanding is positively luddite. So when Alexis of LexEat, outside Barbican tube station handed over a suspicious looking, brown paper wrapped package (pieced together with skull and cross bone sticky tape I may add) and a card with a long winded formula written down, I was immediately gripped by the fear. After walking away, I even had to double check that I had my clothes on.

In the emails leading up to our exchange, Alexis formed the opinion that I had been having it far too easy with all this WMPC malarky and that I would have to do some cooking for a change. Which I thought was pretty cheeky actually. It's not easy having to eat all this food you know which at the end of the day is for the purposes of critically evaluating the food blogging community at large. A lot of people may talk the talk but do they walk the walk? Credentials need to be tested and erm, that's what I am doing.......(cue long pause and tumbleweed rolling past).

So OK, after Alexis' jibing, for this particular swop I did expect to have to do a little bit more than zap my meal in a microwave but I didn't expect to have to follow a set of algebraic instructions, which went as follows:

1. Boil H20

2. Pour H20 over X (already seasoned), stir, cover

3. Reheat C

4. When X has absorbed H2O (approx 2-3 mins) stir through

5. Place X & Y on plate, add C, top with B

6. Eat

7. For dessert, sprinkle N on M

8. Inhale

I spent a good half hour on google back in the office, trying to decipher what the hell H2O was and what X and Y could be but kept getting links to skin care products and Chris bloody Martin. In the end I gave up the ghost and decided to take the package back home that evening where my better half took hold of the instructions and proceeded to berate me.

"Look you just have to boil some water and pour it over the cous cous (X), heat up the slow cooked lamb (C), when the cous cous is ready stir in the pistachios, sultanas and pomegranates (Y) and top the whole lot with the Greek yoghurt, cucumber, mint and cumin mix (B). (M) is a chocolate pot with smashed Maltesers (N). Plonker".

I didn't hear that last insult, I was far too busy having my Eureka moment. I'd seen the light, finally knowing how Archimedes felt after scrubbing his back with a loofah but did this meal, which Alexis had quite obviously taken time to prepare and put together, bring culinary enlightenment? Well yes it did, it was very good indeed. Although not an entirely new one on me and I must take this as a sign to get my WMPC posts done quicker, the slow roasted lamb which came with butternut squash was wonderful. The lamb was very tender, packed with middle eastern flavours, cumin, garlic, coriander. The smell was certainly evocative of Moroccan cuisine. The cous cous was a lovely surprise as I can find it a bit uninspiring but I have never tried mixing it with fruit and nuts before. Combining ruby flecks of pomegranate sweetness with the nutty textures, this cous cous was gorgeous to eat and light and fluffy too (but was that down to my deft touch of boiling water and fork fluffing wrist action?). The yoghurt and mint provided a fresh lift that countered the richness of the meat. I am not entirely sure if I was meant to snort the crushed maltesers as per Alexis' instruction, that would have taken the experimental nature of this swop too far but mixed in with the chocolate pot, her thick indulgent mousse provided a very decadent end to the meal. Superb effort Alexis.

I should add at this part of the post that unfortunately our timings meant that we didn't have much opportunity to have a chat as Alexis was on her way to Sheen Suppers the night we met but I am very grateful that she came out of her way to bring me my dinner, which I swapped for a bottle of Australian Chardonnay. I do know this about her though, she is another lawyer who secretly harbours a desire to become a food stylist. After this effort I would certainly endorse her to go ahead with this dream. However Alexis, one thing I don't understand is how can you not find Eddie Izzard funny?

I should also apologise for taking so long to write this frigging post. I seemed to have lost my blogging mojo over the last month and over the Christmas break. I found it eventually, at the back of the fridge next to some out of date cottage cheese.

I blame Alan Kwok for my lack of scientific knowledge

The Magic Formula

What does it all mean?

Slow Cooked Lamb with Butternut Squash, Pistachio, Sultana and Pomegranate Cous Cous and Greek Yoghurt with Mint, Cucumber and Cumin

Dem Bones Dem Bones....

Now as a rule I don't normally do horror movies. Mainly for reasons of self preservation, personal integrity and to save having to remove stubborn stains from my underwear. I am a big, sniveling, girlie wuss you see. I can't count the number of times that I've embarrassed myself in a cinema (or theatre for that matter). It's not so much the gore and violence that bothers me, it's those quick, shock jumps that come out of nowhere. My first reaction is often to scream out some expletive, lift my buttocks several inches in the air and throw my popcorn over some poor unsuspecting soul in front of me. Worst case scenario happened during The Others (erm the one with Nicole Kidman in it) when my antics caused the stranger sitting next to me to laugh in my face continually for the rest of the film. Mind you, that was just one person. I think I had an entire audience of the Fortune Theatre pissing themselves during A Woman In Black. Sod the horror...the horror! It was a case of oh the shame...the shame. So when MiMi of Meemalee's Kitchen made the offer of a meal for WMPC in exchange for a donation to charity and a copy of "Pure Evil: The House of Unnatural Darkness Part II", a full length feature that MiMi, her hubby and friends have made, I must admit I had my reservations. Don't get me wrong, I'll gladly give to a worthy cause. It was the shitting my pants part I didn't fancy.

When our scheduled appointment to meet up came around a couple of weeks ago, alarm bells sounded off further still as MiMi dropped me a line and said "I hope you like bones!". This was all starting to sound just a touch macabre and ever so worrying as I've also seen photos of her on t'internet with blood pouring from her eyes. Sensing whiffs of danger, the occult and possibly devil worship, I decided that it would be best to get seats by the window in The Hat and Tun where we were to have lunch together. I got there first and when the barmaid came over, I ordered a pint of London Pride and asked that she keep a lookout out for me. Looking puzzled, she simply replied "sure" and walked off with a frown. I nervously took a sip with eyes hooked towards the door before looking down at the menu, trying to focus on the words, trying to put myself at ease. When I looked up again she was standing there in front of me, arms to the side, face blank and without expression. Then she tilted her head to one side and in a sickly sweet, sing song voice, uttered "Hello Daniel" which caused me to shriek and fall off of my stool and recoil in terror with my arms over my face because well, that's my name. And.....and......and I'm getting carried away here because I've bloody met MiMi before, albeit once and she's sweet as pie. Lets ditch the melodramatics shall we.

Lunch in The Hat and Tun was very good actually, it was the first time I had been there as well as MiMi and we were both impressed with the food although disappointed that their scotch egg was off the menu as it has garnered good reviews. The kitchen had been moved downstairs and set up within the bar area yet health and safety prevented deep frying so close to a public space. Or something like that, I couldn't really understand what the puzzled waitress was telling us. MiMi went for a roast pork doorstep sandwich (slow roast Essex Saddleback) which she daintily went at with knife and fork despite my encouragement to go at with hands and teeth. I went for the Ploughmans which came with two massive hulks of Keen's Cheddar. It was a bit of a dairy overload really but I ploughed on through, probably looking considerably less dainty then MiMi in the process. It was also nice to have a chat, particularly about her adventures in Burma where her folks come from. I was a little bit taken aback though by her reaction after regaling a story to her concerning a minor indiscretion in my yoof. Not that she was appalled or outraged or anything, she merely said that as a lawyer, she always had to keep a clean sheet. And I was simply flipped by the fact that I have met yet another food blogger who works in law. MiMi is about the 8th or 9th one now, what gives? Are all lawyers wannabe chefs? This a question that must be answered at a later date.

As always, it was soon time to depart but not before MiMi gave me the run down on that evenings supper which was to be Neck of Lamb Stew with Butternut Squash, Ficelle from Paul, Peanut Caramels from Hotel Chocolat and persimmons from random street vendor. A fantastic haul and as I took hold of the goodies, it suddenly dawned on me what MiMi was going on about with regards to the bones. She instructed that I should pour a couple of tablespoons of water over the stew when reheating and with that we went our separate ways.

Despite the cheesathon I had at lunch, come 7pm, I was fairly "Hank Marvin" as they say in certain parts of the world so I whacked the stew in the microwave for 4 minutes, with my stomach grumbling and growling all the while. It was interesting but in the container, the portion that MiMi gave looked to be a regular size yet once I poured it onto the plate it seemed to have doubled allowing me a mental clap of joy. Admittedly, it didn't look that pretty but the smell alone unleashed the berserker carnivore in me. The lamb was wonderfully tender with a hint of warm spice in the background which contrasted well with the sweetness of the squash. Neck is a particularly flavoursome cut and of course the best part is gnawing in between the bones and sucking scraps of meat. I know my colleague was doing his best to ignore Captain Caveman on the other side of the room but it couldn't have been easy listening in. I thought about offering him some of the bread and letting him have a go at soaking up some of the delish, glistening, fatty gravy but then thought the better of it. Ah such is the cruel nature of this project, eating in the office whilst others make do with sandwiches from Tescos. I did however share out some of the delicious peanut caramels from Hotel Chocolate so I am not all that bad. The persimmons were a new one on me, having never tried them before but because I had gorged myself to oblivion I took them home to eat the next day. They were quite the revelation and I find it hard to put my finger on describing them but a cross between mango, melon and tomatoes comes to mind, with a subtle floral note. The Simpsons kitchen towel used to wrap them in was also a nice touch (see my twitter bio for further explanation http://twitter.com/FoodUrchin).

I've bought some more since and they've become a household fave so thanks for the introduction MiMi and thank you for your gorgeous stew.

Before

During

After

Hmm caramel.....do you want to try? hmm no you can't it's mine, hehehehe........

Persimmons

Aha you thought I wasn't going to mention it didn't you! But of course, we need to talk about the film, starring MiMi, along with her hubby who wrote and directed plus a very funny and able cast. Initially I thought about going all Jonathan Woss with an in depth critique but this is a food blog and I probably wouldn't do justice to the concept (or should that be conceptual) that is Pure Evil. Set in house that contains 8 artists whose personalities range from the highly strung, droll and downright mysterious, it is by turns hilarious, bizarre, and absurdly whacked out. There is some great improvisation going on which I think impressed me the most, along with the continuity (!) and MiMi's amazing performing pig tails. Oh and the soundtrack is pretty cool too. If I had to be critical I would say that its a little bit too long but there are some super silly moments to look out for throughout, like the word association game between the actors. But most importantly, it wasn't scary at all. If you fancy some surreal fun and giving some money to Save The Children then pop over here: http://www.justgiving.com/pe2dvd