I have been revisiting my favourite old cookery book to give some relief to the members of my household who are beginning to look like a spaghetti bolognaise.
So last night I steamed the leeks from the bottom of the fridge, wrapped them in LIDL (30% off) ham and covered them in cheddar cheese sauce not forgetting a sprinkling of brown bread crumbs. Into the oven at Gas Mark 5 and voila! Marguerite Patten, our beloved English cookery diva who kept everyone going in World War II, would have smiled in her grave. Actually, is she dead yet?
Served with boiled potatoes and cabbage and garnished with Branston pickle I ate it in front of Family Guy. Then I treated myself to a glass of Port. Apart from the telly bit, I felt like an old colonel in a gentleman’s club. All very satisfying.
Today I trudged through the snow to the village butcher for oxtail and got a bloody great marrow bone free. Bought a swede and three potatoes from W. Green and then had the most enormous difficulty carrying it all home whilst using my ski pole as a walking stick. I don’t want to slip up and die like the Atkins Diet man, do I?
In roasting the marrow bone to make stock, I stunk out the whole kitchen and I’m not doing that again.
Meanwhile I forgot I’d already bought some chicken thighs. I am not sure if my enthusiasm is going to run to cooking those too.
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God NO!It would be horrible for the villagers to find that you had been hit by ox cart and the ox had left his tail at the scene of the crime.G!
ReplyDeleteThat sounds daunting. I think the most ambitious I got in my pre-vegetarian cookery was a North-Indian style roast chicken for a Christmas party. It was stuffed with heavily spiced mashed potatoes. I remember being concerned that in the worst case scenario the local papers would refer to my effort as a murder-suicide.
ReplyDeleteHave you ever read Waverly Root's "Food: A History"? It's not a cookbook, but I found it inspired me to try different approaches to cooking.
That combination of braised leeks, ham, cheddar sauce and breadcrumbs
ReplyDeletealong with the image of the old colonel dining at his club~very pungent
imagery, every bit of it. Things that are browned with crumbs on top would seem to define comfort food of another era. Do let's have more of
this austerity cooking~though it doesn't sound the least bit austere to me!
Oh La, you got how melodramatic I was! My problem is, I dislike cooking intensely if the truth be known. But I try, I trudge. Love the image of being knocked down by the oxcart.
ReplyDeleteToby, I shall try to keep up the great British tradition of nursery food and hope nobody takes me too seriously.
ReplyDeleterurritable, it wasn't really daunting. I needed some fresh air. And then again later when my cookery set the smoke alarm off.
ReplyDeleteRosie, I do drama much better than cooking-Just reading over some Bill Blass material last night & one of his favourite things was -A woman who loves to eat. I do that well too. No so sure about oxtails et al. xx, GT
ReplyDeletela - why would you waste any time in the kitchen when your time is clearly so well spent on your spiffing blog!
ReplyDeleteGlad you got yourself home without injury. When my husband was recuperating from an ulcer, I made beef stock and those great bones with the marrow was the magic ingredient. We are fortunate that we have ranchers nearby growing grass fed beef and the stock made from these bones is astonishing. Sorry cooking isn't your thing. I am such a simple ninny that I think reducing 6 gallons of stock to several tablespoons of elixir is an art-full day. Then, of course, I can't draw worth a darn!
ReplyDeleteHome, dammit, I knew I should have reduced the stock even further. Thank you for pointing out the sort of proportions involved. Wondered why it tasted of f*** all after a massive effort. Such a depressing mess too. But I might just, just try again one time in a sense of solidarity with you! Thank you.
ReplyDeleteMrs. Patten is still alive and cooking! Love her books on preserving!
ReplyDeletewhoops! reports of her death clearly exaggerated here. Thank you Lucinda.
ReplyDelete