The Final Furlong

Now that we are approaching the final furlong of our six month course it is interesting both to look back at what has happened so far, and how people are reacting to the current pressure we are being put under.

Photo above: today's efforts were my diploma lunch canapés. Courgette candles, filled with roasted artichoke, roasted tomato and cream cheese

Personally, I now feel quite calm and confident about the rest of the course, including the "diploma lunch" which is the spotlight event, and which for me is in a week and a half's time (Monday 8th June). I've now cooked all the elements of the lunch, although not all at the same time. There's a few adjustments to make, but basically I have no qualms about my ability to cook it, just the odd concern about timings, presentation and decorations (no, I'm not doing a flower arrangement, just nipping down to Tesco's for a bunch of carnations). Looking at the wider picture, I'm not sure when I gained the "kitchen confidence" but I really do feel like I could try to cook anything now, whereas thinking back to the poached egg and hollandaise débacle I wonder just how my confidence levels managed to drop so low. I'm also on top of all the other work: wine course, business plan, journalism element, portfolio of work and so on.

Photo below: mini lamb koftas, with a mint and yoghurt raita ( I just had to get the Indian element in somewhere!). If you twirl them round between your fingers you can almost imagine they are as good as a doner kebab after 6 pints.

However, very few people feel the way I do! Most of the students are feeling under a lot of strain, are way behind with everything, have developed a sudden inability to plan, organise and probably even dress themselves. Yesterday we did presentations on a foodstuff of our choice ( I did salt), and Sam got so worked up she was unable to deliver hers. Livvy has been ill (stressed) on and off for a few weeks, and has today flown back to Hong Kong for a week with her parents. Kate, as you know by now, is doo-lally anyway, but despite arriving early this morning to work on her diploma lunch dishes following a heart to heart with yours truly last night, spent the first hour and a half making poached eggs (how is that possible?). Various people are walking round with a permanently glazed look in their eyes. Ian had to come in and give us all a pep talk to us all yesterday, and Lizzie must have been told to boost us up because she was nice as pie to everyone today, which I found slightly worrying.

Photo below: smoked salmon and prawn pastries, with a cannellini bean and yellow pepper filling

So basically those people who thought they were coming on a nice relaxing 6 month break have had a nasty shock. The school is deadly serious about the worthiness of the diploma they hand out at the end: it is not just a piece of paper that everyone gets - it needs to be earned.

Scotland, with a cucumber and nettle velouté

As far as I can remember I've always been quite fond of Scotland, or Scottieland as I always refer to it when there's a slight chance of offending someone. We've had many happy family holidays on the West coast, central heating on full blast, carbon footprint increased significantly trying to track down the only fresh vegetable in the region, midgie spray in full body mode.

My particular favourite juxtaposition is the Scottish Tourist board advert from a few years back featuring a pastoral photo of a beautiful little white cottage in front of a nicely shaped hill, which I happen to know (because I've driven past it several times) is at the top of Glen Coe. However, if you drive past the cottage towards Tyndrum for approximately three miles, there is a large cliff face off to the right on which is written, in letters about 30 feet tall, "F*ck off English".

Aside from that though, there's very little about Scotland that I dislike: Diet Irn Bru, perhaps (talking of juxtapositions); deep fried Mars bars for sure; salt and sauce (on fish and chips). But there's far more positives: motorway signs that give you a quick moral fix; calming accents; specialist shops on every corner; considerate drivers; wonderful scenery; golf - actually, add that to the previous list; whisky!; Ian Rankin; Iain Banks; anyone else whose name is Ian; people who look you in the eye when you pass them in the street; very very good beer; dodgy goalkeepers; Raith Rovers; a sense of national identity. I feel like that Norwegian football commentator from way back:- Winston Churchill, your boys took one hell of a beating...

But the thing which stands out most to me has been brought home by two things: the main news event this week, which is the M.P.'s expenses scandal in Westminster; and Margaret and my tour round the Scottish parliament building last weekend. What a contrast!

I'd always had a fairly bad impression of the Scottish Parliament Building. In fact, in my previous existence I used to use it on my risk management workshop as a bad example of how costs on a project can overrun due to bad management, and I guess that is still true (I can go into a lot of detail at this point if you really want). But what I hadn't appreciated is what a fantastic building it is, and how the sense of place, and time, and purpose merge together so well. To be fair, it's not a building you can stand outside and appreciate. It's just not designed to look good externally, except if you happen to be standing 200 feet up on Salisbury Crags. But once inside, with the enthusiastic guide filling in the detail, you get a strong impression of what the building is all about, and at the same time what Scotland is all about. The contrast between what the parliament is trying to achieve, in terms of democracy, fairness, compromise, communication, and public involvement, could not be more stark when compared to the hypocritical shambles which Westminster is currently exposing itself as being. If you visit Edinburgh, I'd strongly recommend a visit - it's only a fiver.

Meanwhile, yesterday was all about sauces, foams, and veloutés. Foams were quickly dismissed when Lizzie established that none of us were in the slightest bit interested in them, and she personally thought they were "a complete waste of time" anyway. Foams, for your information, are highly flavoured squirty bits that very posh chefs serve out of a canister with their dishes to add flavour, without, presumably, substance.

In a most unlikely turn of events Lizzie persuaded Butcher Graham to make a roasted barley foam. When I enquired later how he had got on he replied "Aye, it was quite tasty, I suppose". Judge from that what you will. I never actually got to see it.

I made a couple of sauces. A Romanesco, which was just bizarre: passata, almonds, garlic, olive oil, chilli, and a few other bits and bobs. Tasted great, but I'm not sure what you'd serve it with. My other offering was Cucumber and Nettle Velouté. This was made up on the spot from whatever was left in the fridge, but, I kid you not, was just lovely. Nettles are optional. If you do use, them, you need the sort that grow alongside the Union Canal out of Edinburgh, along which I cycled for 20 miles last Sunday afternoon. Hervé wore rubber gloves when he handled them, which I think was just a teeny bit over the top. As far as I could tell they had no sting to them, never mind being re-processed at Windscale which seemed to be along his lines of thinking.

A velouté is a sauce made with stock rather than milk, and usually with a bit of alcohol thrown in. In this particular case, there is no roux or alcohol, just a reduction of stock, then cream, and if its not thick enough, sort that out at the end with some cornflour.

Photo below: the velouté served with pan-fried seas bass, on a bed of stir-fried carrots and courgettes

CUCUMBER AND NETTLE VELOUTÉ

1 cucumber
sliver of ginger, finely chopped
3 spring onions, chopped
handful of nettle leaves, chopped
flat parsley, chopped
fresh oregano, chopped
1/4 green chilli, chopped
1/2 pint chicken stock
1 glass white wine
butter
4 tbl cream
salt and pepper

1. Grate the cucumber coarsely, then press through colander to remove as much water as possible.
2. Gently sweat onions and garlic for 5 minutes in butter. Add cucumber, nettle, parsley, oregano, chilli, and sweat for 5 more minutes. Do not brown!
3. Add wine and stock. Cook down to half volume of liquid.
4. Strain through sieve, put liquid back in pan and add cream.
5. Bring to boil and reduce by half again.
6. If not thickened, mix a little cornflour with cold water and stir through.

The sauce is light and full of flavour; the slight hints of ginger and chilli don't need to be overwhelming.

Serve with pan-fried seabass fillet (or similar), on a bed of stir-fried vegetables (courgette, carrot, spring onion with mustard seeds), as a light starter or with potatoes or rice for a main course.

I bet nobody has ever cooked this sauce before!

Veggie Week

Yes, as you know its been vegetarian and special diets all this week, culminating with an assessment on Friday. Now in our household we've kind of got used to catering for veggies, and discovered it's actually quite enlightening not only to go without a great lump of meat occasionally, but also to explore new tastes and textures, combinations, new worlds and civilisations, to boldly go... I digress. I think in our family we're all in agreement that veggie food can be pretty damn good.

Picture above: the lemon garnish I left under the table on Wednesday

The good folk of Scotland, however, don't necessarily share this view. Butcher Graham, for example, raised on a diet of raw meat, voted with his feet on Wednesday when we were asked to prepare a vegetarian dish, and presented Lizzie with a baked potato and cheese. She was too gobsmacked (or possibly frightened) to tell him off. While the rest of us slaved away with 4 different types of gluten-free flour trying to produce something that vaguely resembled a light sponge, he stolidly baked a cake using ordinary flour, shrugging and saying "What's the point?".

Friday's assessment was a little bit different to what we'd expected, so I had to change my plans a little. We were drawn out of a hat into 3 groups, or "corners", each being asked to produce 6 portions of 3 different dishes. One corner on starters, one on mains, and one on desserts. Our little gang, consisting of Stepan, Hunter Graham, Livvie, Kate and myself, were on mains. Thank God we didn't draw the short straw of desserts, which had to include at least one dairy free and one gluten free.

We produced an impressive set of dishes, featuring home made gnocchi with a rich tomato sauce; A taiwanese bean curd stir fry; and my Atlas Mountain Pie. All very very tasty, and we scored high marks from the judges, which was of particular relief to Kate, who had barely shown up all week, but who made it in (late, naturally) to the assessment to bask in our shared glory.

I'd like to focus on the pie for a minute. It was a dish I found on the internet, then modified to suit our purpose. More importantly though, I wanted to christen it Kristin Scott Thomas pie, in humble tribute to the goddess herself, and her role as the world's sexiest skeleton in The English Patient, when she dies in the cave up in the mountains before old Ranulph can get back to her. However, Graham, our chef de partie, wouldn't allow this. I have given it it's proper title below.

If you are cooking for a veggie dinner party I'd highly recommend this dish. It was demolished by the staff and students on both occasions I cooked it - the practice run on Wednesday and the assessment on Friday - and a number* of people have asked me for the recipe.

KRISTIN SCOTT THOMAS PIE
serves 6

Quite complicated, but well worth it, and looks fantastic.

For the filling:
2 tsp each cumin and coriander seeds
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp smoked paprika
olive oil
1/2 butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1/4 inch cubes
12 small shallots
1 inch cube root ginger, finely chopped
3 tbl ground almonds
3 tbl pine nuts (or pistachios)
100g mixture of prunes, dried apricots, dates, finely chopped
6 tbl agave nectar (or clear honey)
200g baby spinach

For the hummus:
1 tin chickpeas
1 garlic clove
1 tsp ground cumin

juice of 1 lemon
fresh coriander, chopped

For the pastry:
9 sheets filo pastry
butter

For the yoghurt dip:
1 carton Greek or natural yoghurt
mint and coriander leaves, chopped
harissa paste
chilli oil

1. Heat oven to Gas 6, 200 degrees.
2. Dry roast the cumin and coriander seeds in a dry pan for a few minutes, until they give off a lovely aroma. Grind the seeds in a pestle and mortar, or coffee grinder, until fine. Sieve to remove coriander husks if necessary.
3. In a roasting tray mix together ground spices, cinnamon and paprika with enough oil to make it spreadable, mix with the cubed squash, and roast for 20-25 minutes.
4. At the same time, heat oil in a large frying pan and fry the shallots on high heat until they start to brown. Stir in the ginger, ground almonds, pistachios/pine nuts, and stir until they start to brown also. Remove the shallots, quarter them, then return to the pan (this keeps them chunky but not too chunky, without them disintegrating). Chuck in the dried fruit, agave nactar (or honey) and spinach. Cook for a couple of minutes then remove from heat once spinach has wilted.
5. Stir the roasted squash and shallot mixture all together.
6. Gently melt 50g butter in a small pan or microwave.
7. Take a sheet of filo, and cut into 6 strips. Take a second sheet and cut into 6, reserving 3 strips so you are about to use 9 strips for the first individual portion. Brush one side of each strip with butter (easiest to do this before you cut it!).
8. Take a small ovenproof saucer, and lay the 9 strips so they overlap in the centre of the dish, spreading outwards like the spokes of a wheel. Make sure the bottom of the saucer is completely covered. Put a good dollop of the squash/shallot mixture in the middle of the saucer, then fold up each strip one at a time into a set of crinkly folds, making sure the mixture is completely sealed inside the filo. You will end up with a crinkly round mountain on the saucer, with Kristin safely hidden inside. Brush butter over the folds, then frizz them up a bit like Nick Heyward from Haircut 100.
9. Repeat steps 7. and 8. five more times.
[you can stop at this point, cover them with clingfilm, refrigerate, and keep them for up to 24 hours before cooking - very handy]
10. Melt more butter in a pan, fry more pine nuts or pistachios until browning, remove from heat and stur in the remaining agave nectar or honey.
11. Put drained chickpeas, garlic, lemon, ground cumin in a blender and whizz to bits. Season with salt and pepper. Drizzle in a little oil to get the consistency you want (I was serving the hummus in a ring mould and so needed it fairly firm).
12. Place all the saucers on a baking tray and bake at Gas 5 for around 25 minutes (longer if chilled). Keep an eye on the filo - it should brown nicely but not burn. Remove from the saucer before serving (that's the trickiest bit!). Drizzle some hot butter, nut and nectar mix over the top once on the plate.
13. Meanwhile mix the chopped mint and coriander leaves into the yoghurt. Mix harissa with a little chilli oil to loosen it. Creatively swirl the harissa into individual or shared portions of yoghurt.
14. You could serve with little flatbreads - I did, but there again I had Livvie to make them for me.

Picture right: the elements of the filling ready to be mixed together

* two

"Brilliant!"

And so back into the kitchen. Last week we only had one day in there, mainly being occupied with food writing, and the start of the second (intermediate) module of wines and spirits on Friday. This week its vegetarin and special diets, culminating in an assessment on Friday, which I have already got sussed (it will be Allegra McEvery's veggie curry).

Today's exercise was to choose a few ingredients from a big pile of vegetables, and make something nice out of it. I produced a dish described by Lizzie as "brilliant" (I kid you not), and a disaster.

Lets get the disaster - or experiment as I prefer to think of it - out of the way first. Shredded jerusalem artichoke, wilted spinach, fried onions and chillis, topped with breadcrumbs and cheese. No amount of flavourings could give the dish any taste whatsoever, and it was destined for the bin from the off.

The other dish, however, I would happily do again, so I will write down the recipe before I forget it.

ROASTED SQUASH AND LEEK TARTE

The "E" is just to look a bit more flash.

Serves 6 as a starter, 3-4 as a main course.

1 leek
1/2 butternut squash
4 oz good soft blue cheese (I used Roquefort)
salt and pepper
oil and butter
2 cloves garlic
puff pastry

1. Put the squash (skin on) in a medium oven for 30-40 minutes to roast. It is best to do this face down on a baking tray, you can brush a lttle oil on it if you like. For the last 20 minutes, add the garlic cloves to the pan (skin on).
2. Meanwhile, shred the leeks finely, and soften in a little oil and butter for 10 minutes.
3. When the squash is soft, scoop out the flesh, mix with the leeks and half of the crumbled blue cheese, mash the insides of the garlic cloves in, and season to taste (you can add some herbs etc. at this point if you like.
4. Cut 6 rings about 4 inches across from the puff pastry (a slightly larger rectangle per person may be more suitable if serving as a main course), using a fancy edged cutter. Score diamonds across the surface of each ring and brush with a little milk.
5. Place a generous dollop of filling in the centre of each pastry ring. Top with the remaining blue cheese.
6. Bake at Gas 6 for 10-15 minutes, or until the pastry is well risen around the edges.
7. Serve with salad, and maybe some garlic mayonnaise.

A Bit of a Falafel

A Bit of a Falafel I

It had to happen at some point, and it happened big style yesterday during our Food Writing course. The chocolate really hit the extractor fan. Boston Kate had had what would be for most of us a traumatic but once in a lifetime weekend, but which for her seems to be traumatic but par for the course (it did involve flying to Ireland, treating an old lady who had had a stroke who then died, and accidentally poisoning her friend's dog). She turned up late as usual, clearly even more on edge than usual, but when Butcher Graham innocently remarked at tea break that "It can't be that bad" it all came out big time. She hates this effing place, hates the effing lot of us, and can't believe what an effing mess her life is in. When I suggested perhaps she shouldn't be in school while she felt like that I was asked what she was supposed to effing do just fail the effing course? Nicky, the food journalist who had come in specially to teach us for two days, must have wondered what sort of madhouse she had come in to.

Oh by the way, the food writing course, covering both restaurant reviews - we went out for lunch so we could write up our thoughts on Craigie's farm shop café - and how to write menus so they are understandable, is so far excellent!

A Bit of a Falafel II

Naturally I had to pop out last night to check up on the Champions League semi-final between Arsenal and Man United, and afterwards felt a bit peckish but in need of something not too unhealthy. Wandering round the corner from Doctors, my regular footie pub, I found what is probably the best takeaway I've ever been to. I ordered a falafel with chilli and avocado. The guy smiled at me and said "Sit down, I'll make a fresh one for you." Sorry, did I hear that right? I sat down, watching the aftermath of the football on the big plasma screen, then let my eyes wander round the room. Tastefully decorated, with leather backed benches, clean tables, nicely painted walls, and beautiful original cornices. My order appeared a few minutes later, and I complimented the chef and sole proprietor on the decor. "We've tried to keep it in character," he said. Surely the only takeaway in the world where this is considered a priority. We had a long chat about cookery courses while I helped myself to a few of the 15 or so salads available, then said our good nights.

Now I've never really got falafels in the past. Slightly boring and soggy vegetarian alternatives that come in plastic packets has been my experience. But as soon as I took my first bite the crunch of the crisp outside of the falafel merging with the warm and herby inside, mixed with the tang of chilli and jalopeno and clean fresh tzatziki, all wrapped in a fresh pitta, I realised this was something else. Not only that, but not a trace of fat anywhere. Definitely a serious alternative to the late night kebab, and worthy of my first fine dining restaurant review.

Jade

I had a bit of a shock on Monday morning when I opened the meat fridge and saw Jade staring back at me. She had been brought in to demonstrate how nothing should go to waste, and it is possible to use just about any part of an animal for food. Fortunately, Chris took it upon himself to do the demonstration, rather than handing us an ear here, a cheek there. I am gradually realising that Chris, although flitting in and out of the school like a will-o-the-wisp, knows more about food than everyone else put together, so we were lucky to have him in during Meat Week.

Photo above: Jade chills out

Photo left: Chris checks Jade has visited the dentist regularly.

Jade was cut in half down the middle, then had her brains scooped out and discarded (although Chris reliably informed us they are a delicacy in some parts of the world). She then had her ears cut off and the ear canal removed ("you can't eat the waxy bit" - although I do wonder if it would make a nice confit). Next she had her eyebrows and other facial hair singed off over the hob. Half of her then went in one large pan, and half in another, with a ham hock in each, a big bunch of chopped vegetables and herbs. She was then boiled for a couple of hours, and the meat then falls away from the bones. Chris made sure he'd got all the meat off, mixed it with very rich, gelatinous beef stock (which I had slaved over the previous day), more herbs and veg, and turned it into a terrine mould. Once pressed and set, it tasted fabulous.

Price of Jade, £3. Ham hocks, £3.30. This made at least 20 portions of terrine which would retail at £4 each. And that is how to make serious money in the restaurant business.

We had our "Creative Meat" assessment on Friday. I had played it very safe, and didn't expect very good marks for originality at all, so I was preasantly surprised to get a higher score than I'd anticipated, although my main course (the Greek thing, with lettuce, you remember?) was fairly rubbish, I have to agree with the judges (Chris and Gill). Apparently I would have got a higher score for my salmon patties had they been perfectly round, which personally I think would have detracted from the look of the dish, but who am I to argue. Gill did at least say that my starter was the nicest thing she tasted all afternoon. Given that they spent around 2 hours tasting 13 three course meals she did well to remember anything.

Photo above: salmon and dill fish patties, with yoghurt, wholegrain mustard and dill dressing