Christmas pudding ice cream

Rich enough to kill, but perhaps it's only once a year......although this can work with a rich moist fruit cake, too...

We are having this for pudding on New year's Eve, where I am hoping it will do for six adults. To a two litre tub of some slightly softened good vanilla ice cream (although I happen to know this works with the very worst sort, too), add, say --and yes, I did use my hands here-- three or four handfuls of Christmas pudding. I've never weighed it; you'll just have to take my word for it. Mix it in well, add a couple of pinches of nutmeg and, perhaps, a tablespoon (or even two) of brandy. Mix well. I suppose you could mix it in with a spoon, but I confess that I knead it in with my hands, as though I were making bread. Just do it a few times, though. You want it well mixed, but you do not want the pudding to turn into a paste. You could add some slivered almonds and, if you like, some candied peel. Freeze overnight and, for gaudiness, just before you serve it, top with some more candied peel, some almonds in gold leaf if you dare -- and a sparkler! A Happy New Year!

photo courtesy of Elsie esq at flickr. Many thanks. x

A chicken roast dinner of sorts

Now, I had a large free range chicken and I here is what I did: this ensures wonderful succulent meat.

Roast chicken with a hot stuffing.

Take the chicken out of the fridge and allow it to come to room temperature while the oven heats up to about 230c. While this is happening, take about six slices of bread -- I happened to have half a wholemeal loaf and a slightly elderly white baguette. I dried this in the oven for five minutes and then broke it up in a bowl. Then, I added two chopped red apples, four peeled and chopped cloves of garlic, two chopped satsumas, a very large pinch of nutmeg (or grate it fresh) and a little salt and freshly ground black pepper..

Now, put your chicken into the oven (in a dish, obviously), breast down. This procedure keeps it moist. If you've been following my writing for a while, you will surely know that I harp on about this and also, I suppose, about chicken. Cook the chicken for around 45 minutes. Around this time, put some water on to boil in the kettle, pour it into the stuffing to bind it only when the water has boiled, take the chicken out, turn it right side up asnd stuff the cavity. Now put the chicken back into the oven for about another hour --depending on the size of the bird. So, two points: the chicken cooks upside down first to allow the juices to percolate through the breast, which is the dryest part. Then, the stuffing goes in hot, which serves to moisten the meat further and also makes it easier to predict when the bird is done. You will probably have leftover stuffing: just cook it separately: it will take only about 20 minutes top cook and crisp.

Roast potatoes, broccoli, bread sauce, not gravy today..

What to serve with this? I roasted some potatoes, which I had par-boiled and roughened up. First of all, they were roasted in hot oil and then lubricated further with some of the fine roasting juices from the chicken. I made a little bread sauce. This was made from half a white baguette, plenty of salt and pepper, a generous pinch of nutmeg, a small onion which I had studded with a few cloves (just like my mother might have done) and around 3/4 of a pint of milk. You may well need to add more milk as you go. Heat the mixture up very slowly, until it barely shudders, otherwise it will stick. Cook for ten minutes, keeping a close eye on it.

Elsewhere on the table, some broccoli and a few whole steamed carrots. I made no gravy, but we just poured over the juices from the roasting dish. Cranberry sauce to one side. Some sprouts with chestnuts would have been good instead of the broccoli, perhaps. You know, when your chicken is well cooked, you won't need to drench it with gravy. Nigel Slater has been telling us this for many a moon. And another thought: this was a cheerful and festive meal. It was the nutmeg, orange and apple that did it. We ate at the table with our boys and we ate in candelight, which is to say at a table lit by tea lights in tin cans through which they had punched lots of little holes. I hope they'll remember this stuff when they are grown, just as I do. Even if they are kicking each other under the table at the time.

Chicken photo courtesy of Annie Mole at www.flickr.com Thank you

Some things not forgotten.

For a fine family.


In some ways, I am very easily pleased. When it comes to presents, I don't do perfume or bling: I like a nice trowel or a pot of honey. Or some rose-sented bubble bath. Maybe a pot of honey with a particularly cheerful--looking bee on the label.Yes, I'm bookish, but I gereally fare better when I acquire books myself. How about you? Historically, some of my favourite Christmas presents have been food ones -- things that people made or chose, knowing I would beam at them. This year, I was given particularly fine home-made pickle, which had been packed into fat little jars and with paper covers showing the lovely, quirky old house where they had been made. They had been wrapped in gold paper and decorated with a miniature bead Chritsmas wreath by a 10 year old boy. He placed them on a table and waited until they caught my eye. So you see why they pleased me especially. Because he took the time. But I am in danger of tipping too far into sentimentality here, so let me give you a brief account of foods given as presents -- just seared in the memory from infancy onwards.

The satsuma. Eaten in the night, the fruit felt very cold. It came from the toe of my Christmas stocking.

My first box of sugared almonds. The smooth texture, the pale colours -- like the most beautiful pebbles. I remember sucking on these, having extracted them from the gold box in my Christmas stocking.

Marzipan. However it comes. Love it, but don't have it any other time of year somehow. I'll say the memory of three beautiful little marzipan fruits brought up to our Paris hotel room just before Christmas by my husband. One year old baby on the floor at my side, sucking on a mango stone.

A jar of preserved stem ginger. An odd gift, you might think, from an aunt to a child. But I loved the look, smell, feel and taste of it. I recall that it glowed in its syrup and I made it last a long time.

That's all. Any more and you know I'll cry.

Christmas dinner

Gentle snow (still) and ice on the ground, I got snow-bound (well, ice-bound) in Wales, there is a merry fire in the grate and the boys do not want the day to end. Here, with a Merry Christmas to you, is what I made for dinner. Just a small affair this year, to please two grown ups and two young children. As we had had turkey for Thanksgiving, this year I allowed it to be ousted by a a dinner of a slightly different kind -- but festive withal. Also practical, as you will see from the leftovers.

Above is Virginia, last Christmas. That's what I call ice. Below that would be the comedy mouse snowman, to cheer you up if you are apprehensive about the new year.

A brace of pheasants, stuffed with pork sausagemeat, garlic and apples, with roasted apples to one side and wrapped all in back bacon. Just find some local pheasants if you can and get someone else to prepare them if you are squeamish. I'm not, but it should be fairly easy for you to find ready-prepared pheasant. £6.95 for a brace. Not bad.Take the pheasants out of the fridge a good half an hour before you start to prepare them for the oven: you want them to be at room temperature befeore they go in. Now, stuff them with some decent sausagemeat (or undress some decent sausages), fill the cavity with this plus some large chunks of apple and four or five unpeeled garlic cloves. Wrap the birds well in good back bacon. Cook until the breast is burnished and --really this is the only kind of occasion where I use a meat thermometer-- the sausagemeat is done. I'd allow two hours at 200c, remembering to baste frequently and your pheasant shoulld not be dry. Well, it  will be dry -er than some other birds.

Lots of chicken drumsticks, wrapped in bacon and cosied in with lots of unpeeled garlic cloves. Just as it sounds. I had got my hands on a large consignment of Halal chicken (no, nothing dodgy: this was, rather marvellously, in Asda in Hicksville Wiltshire). Halal meat has, appropriately I thought, a slightly gamier flavour which seemed apposite here. Just make sure the chicken is at room temp, as with the pheasant, before it goe to the oven and wrap it --not Halal: please note!-- with some well-flavoured back bacon ajnd sprinkle lots of unpeeled garlic cloves all around. Takes about an hour at 2oo.

Why the two? Because, this time of year, pheasant is reasonably priced (I am speaking of £6.95 for two, locally shot pheasants) and I was not sure how well the children would take this game, so cooked an alternative. They ate both and scraped at the dishes afterwards.

Sage and onion stuffing with apple, cooked to one side. Dressing, then, as they would say in Georgia. Just grate, finley chop or process --I'm not giving specifics here-- plenty of brown and white breadcrumbs, add sea salt, lots of freshly-ground black pepper, three fresh sage leaves, finely minced and some chopped red apple. Experiment until you have the mixture you like. Moisten it with water, a little olive oil and a generous dot of butter and bake for about half an hour.I cook it all of a piece in a tin, but you could form it into little stuffing balls, I suppose. If you want, a few chopped dried apricots are good here. A good grating of nutmeg would also work. And a note on sage: I don't use dried because there is always plenty of fresh in the garden. I find that dried commercially available sage seems to acquire a rather overpowering musty smell and taste. If you wanted, you could substitute rosemary for the sage.

Roast parsnips and this year, in another departure, I cooked whole carrots in with the parsnips. Just a little sunflower oil and lots of freshly ground black pepper. Peel the carrots, top and tail. Done. Same for the parsnips and then cut them in half lengthways. Cook them in blisteringly hot oil for about 45 minutes, by which time they will be sweet and irresistible and have caught the heat in places so that you get little stucky burnished bits.

Sprouts. I love them; always have.I like them quite well done here.

Roast potatoes. This year, I parboiled the potatoes --make sure you choose good floury ones-- the night before and roughened them up well against the side of the pan and then chucked them into hot sunflower oil. Goose fat, as you may well know, gives them a sublime flavour, but I'll be writing more about roast potatoes in a separate entry. Stay tuned. Cook them until they are crisp and then blitz them under a higher heat when the meat is out of the oven. Should take 45 minutes to an hour. I also added a couple of tablespoons of the sublime juices from the pheasant as they were about half way through cooking.


Mashed swede, with lots of butter and black pepper. Cook it well, in large chunks. And stunt ye not on the butter and black pepper. Salt to taste. Bashed neeps. For Kathleen from Dumfries, if she is readiing this. Also great with Haggis on Burns' Night!

Gravy. I had a little vegetable stock to one side. I had made this with half an onion, some sticks of celery and about a third if a red pepper plus four or five whole peppercorns. For additional liquid I used the water from cooking the swede and the whole thing was started off with a roux made from the juices and a little of the fat from the pheasant roasting dish. That wasn't hard, was it?

AND -- now this is peculiar-- I made unseasonal Yorkshire pudding because that had been requested by the children.

Pudding: didn't have it, really, Just the odd Clementine, hazlenuts and pistachios a little later.And then, obviously, we picked at hazlenuts, walnuts, cashews, mince pies and the Christmas cake made by an excellent aunt. This year we had no Christmas pudding, because no-one likes it apart from me. I'm not entirely happy with this state of play.

And what of dinner? I mean Christmas tea or supper. Still, confusion reigns in our Anglo-Cymric-American household.

A bubble of squeak of sorts. So, all the leftover vegetables --plenty of potatoes and sprouts-- mashed just roughly and then fried until they developed a rich, crisp crust. We had these with two pickles made in the first place by an inspirational neighbour --pumpkin chutney-- and in the second place by an inspirational parent of a child I teach: this was a tart apple and blackberry chutney. Both were received with uncommon joy and both were made from home-grown produce. We also had a piece of Somerset Brie and a slice of Dolcellate with this. A telly-side supper, while I grieved the soon not-to-be- regenerated Doctor Who. Oooh! David Tennant. There's something about his shift from tragic to comic on the turn of a dime.... Oh and we had the leftover pheasants and chicken in sandwiches with mango chutney the next day.

Susie's "mulled wine and a mince pie"

Are you familiar with that bit in The Wind in the Willows when Rat itemises the lovely range of food he has in his picnic basket -- in response to Mole's innocent enquiry as to what was in it? Rat's description is told all in one sentence. I was reminded of this when I popped round, on Sunday, to the house of the Susie. "I'm not doing much", she'd said, or something like that. BUT here, in addition to a treasure hunt for children and a chocolate Santa on the way out, was a table of plenty. Here is what was on it:

mulledwinemincepieswelshcakes...no, I cannot keep this up as I'll alienate my readers. So, dates, stuffed with marzipan and studded with silver balls in a row (lovely, this one), crackers, bread, pork liver pate, a good hot tomato salsa, tortilla chips, twiglets, little sausage rolls, hummus, cheese straws (the nice twisty ones), celery, carrots and cucumber, baguettes a plenty plus Cheddar, Brie, smoked Applewood, and Stilton. Olives - plain and also stufed with feta and herbs. Also, I noticed, a big dish of little stick glazed sausages. To one side, hefty mugs of all kinds of tea for those not mulling.

Just a mince pie, then. Christmas has begun.

Thanks to Adactio at Flickr for the mince pie. Above, this is the snow of earlier this year. Note hat, American readers. x

The peanut

Ah the peanut, groundnut, what you will. I've long been devoted to this little nut, having happy memories of boiled peanuts in Georgia -- I imagine Damon Lee Folwer is right: you'll either dislike boiled peanuts or you won't be able to stop eating them: I'm in the latter camp-- toasted peanuts at the ball game, big bag of salted and a coke in the footwell of the car on what seemed like eternal journeys to South Wales as a kid. Yes: I did say footwell. This was earlier in the 20th-century, you know.

But, of course, I digress: here is a simple snack for when your blood sugar hits an all time low or you feel a bit weepy. And, as with the boiled peanuts, you'll either like this or you won't. This is the sort of snack which resuscitates, as I can testify.

Take a slice or two of some satisfying bread. I happened to choose a crusty white loaf, which I then toasted until it was crisp and the edges just a little charred here and there. Now spread the toast with peanut butter --crunchy, I'd say-- and top this with some thin slices of cheddar, whichever sort you like. That's it. Not exactly a recipe, this -- more an observation: try it when in need.

Solo bonne femme

Here is my dinner tonight. I mean, just for me -- hence the title. I have never tired of eating alone, whether by choice or necessity.

Now, I expect this particular dinner  would be frowned up by a nutritionist. Take a good apple -- you know: an old fashioned single varietal, if you can. Then take a big piece of Parmesan, which you have bought in a good big block. Cut generous slices from the parmesan, cut your apple (or two) into fat slices and either serve the Parmesan on each piece, or take a bite of the apple, then a bite of the cheese. That's it. Also works with a pear. But it has to be a comely sort of pear.

Photo of lots of Parmesan cheese by Ashlakr at Flickr. Make sure you've got a proper cheese!

A speedy supper: chicken curry in a hurry.

Hmmm..It's not that it cooks quickly; more that you'll have it prepared in five minutes and it can then sit happily on the hob for forty minutes or so. That tends to be how I define a quick dinner -- at least sometimes. So...

Tonight, I have taken 8 chicken thighs. I had Halal meat and the meat came already skinned. Now, just slice a big onion into rings and then slice the rings in two. Sweat them in a film of hot oil in a big pan. Then, add a tablespoon of ground cumin, a fat pinch of red chilli flakes, a dessertspoon of ground turmeric, a tablespoon of ground coriander and a large pinch of asafoetida. I guess you are less likely to have this, so you could miss it out, but it does add a deep savoury note to what you are cooking.

Right, continue to sweat the onion with the spices and then add the chicken to the pan. Stir it around well -- the vital thing being that you keep the heat quite low, as spices can turn bitter if they catch. Now add four potatoes, peeled (or not, if you're really lazy) and chopped into pieces (imagine a medium-sized potato cut into four) and --this is one of my most useful store cupboard ingredients-- 8 chunks of frozen spinach, either leaf or chopped. Tonight I used frozen chopped spinach and must say that it melded well with the sauce.

Stir the lot around for a minute, add a cup of water and bring it all to a high heat. Now stir again and simmer very gently for forty minutes or so. You will most likely have to add more water during this time. Check for seasoning and serve with basmati rice.

A Top Tip

Now, I am devoted to Patak's pickles, particularly their hot mango one. Just sometimes, I like to add a good tablespoon of it to a dish -- such as a meat biryani. It worked well with this chicken dish, too, adding an appealing piquancy. You could give it a go, but move slowly as you don't want to overpower the flavours already in the dish. Add it towards the end of cooking and the mango pieces in the pickle will retain a bit of  bite. This is not, by the way, one of the syrupy things it is supposed we like. It is a proper substantial pickle, with discrete chunks that will also do you proud in a cheese sandwich. Or, in fact, under the cheese on cheese or toast. I hope Meena Patak is reading this, actually......

Now put your feet up! See opposite! The picture on the right is courtesy of Subhodev at Flickr. It's part of a series he has on old Calcutta (oops Kolkata) and I adore these pictures. The picture before that is of some whole spices from my cupboard: pretty aren't they?

Tinned sardines: ooh a little storecupboard miracle

Right: I want you to try this. It is what we had for tea last night and I cooked it because I needed to be convinced that it would work. I got the idea from Vicky Bhojal's very jolly book Cooking with Mummyji, where she has a recipe for pan fried (tinned) sardines. Now, I had eaten sardines with spices before, but they had been fresh fish, not the little guys from a tin. So try this and see if you like it. I think it's great and it is also incredibly easy -- hardly even cooking.

Spiced sardines, done in the oven. For Susie Freeman. tell me if you think it works!

For two, take 2 tins of sardines in oil. Drain off most of the oil. Now, put the sardines in a baking dish in a hot oven, having sprinkled over big fat pinches of ground cumin, coriander, freshly ground black pepper, just a few flakes of sea salt, a cautious pinch of red chilli flakes (or not, if you are me) and, I think, a pinch of asofoetida if you have it. Into the oven they go and, while you wait for them to cook and crisp, you have time to cook a pan of basmati rice. When the sardines smell fabulous and look crisp and glowing, take them out, serve them on your rice and scatter them with fresh coriander and a dollop or fresh yoghurt. That's it.

Well, actually, that could be it but because I am the sort of person who has to use up every last leftover bit of potato or spoonful of peas, I should say that I actually cooked these on top of a few leftover roast potatoes and, err, peas. I chopped the potatoes into tiny chunks and spiced the somewhat meagre helping of vegetables with the same mixture I put on the sardines. It does strike me, though, that this sardine dish would do very well cooked on a base of spiced and crisp (and already cooked) potato. Try it some time.

Thanks to Tim Parkinson at www.flickr.com for the tins!

In praise of the Quince.

At this time of year, you still have time to keep your eyes peeled for all the quinces discarded by footpaths and around people's front doors. I find that people plant these shrubs, but then never use the fruit, I suppose not knowing what to do with it. I've shown you a quince or two here -- and before you familiarise yourself with it, remember not to trespass into people's gardens. You don't want to get a reputation as a quince rustler (this sounds rude, I know.) I can tell you, though, that on walking two small ons to school this morning down a residential lane, I scored ten fruits that were just sitting quietly on the edge of the pavement. Just waiting to be claimed.

So, you have found, grown or been handed some quinces. Even if they look a bit battered, do not despair, because they are tough fellows and their fruit may be just fine underneath the peel. You are looking for perky yellow specimens, though.

First, smell them, though. You are inhaling --along with new sandalwood, sweet peas, old fashioned roses, autumn mornings and the tops of my babies' heads-- one of the most exquisite scents on earth, It is fresh, but as old as the hills; of the Orient, but yet so English. To me, this is, above all, the lingering smell of childhood. That's because my mother had a large and flourishing shrub under the windows of our sunny sitting room and the smell would waft in and  gently greet you. There's nothing else like it. If you have surplus quinces or decide that you will not eat them, then do as I have done in our sitting room. It's a picture in there today -- with the rather early Christmas tree that I could not resist and the quinces giving out their musky scent from the radiator and around the edges of the fireplace,. If gentle warmth touches them, they will perfume your house.

Here is a a simple thing to do with quinces. Somethng that also seems to me both autumnal and festive. My mother used to make quince jelly and it had a beautiful amber colour. Here is what I prefer to make.

SPICED QUINCES

Take about 20 quinces, wash and peel them carefully, then cut them in half, into 4 and then into 8. Remove any pith or pip. Now put them in a saucepan and cover them with fresh cold water. Add a big fat pinch of Maldon sea salt, bring them to the boil and then simmer gently for about 15 minutes to soften them. Now remove the pan from the heat, pour the water through a sieve and pop it back into the same pan or a different one if that's easier.Add 450ml of white wine vinegar,300g of caster sugar, 4 cloves, two small cinnamon quills or pieces of cassia bark and a couple of teaspoons of coriander seed. Bring this all to the boil, then add your quinces and then simmer very gently until the fruit is nicely tender but not pulpy.

Some recipes for a similar confection tell you to boil the juices up again the next day, but I just pack the lot into sterilised jars and that's that. The quinces are wonderful with cold meat or cheese and, if I were you, I'd have them with my Boxing Day leftovers.

Thank you to Dave F and Lepiaf Geo for the photos. www.flickr.com