More Loafing About

My Learned Friend the Legal Eagle has requested the recipe for my picnic loaf, as featured previously.

Your wish is my pleasure.

Seeded Sandwich Bread.

I developed this loaf for picnics; the mixture of flours gives a loaf that holds together well, - the seeds add extra flavour and texture.

Apologies for the Imperial measurements, they just work better with these ingredients.

(For a 2lb loaf tin)

12oz Strong Stoneground Organic Wholemeal Flour

12oz Strong Organic White Flour

2 Tablespoons of poppy seeds

3 Tablespoons of sunflower seeds

1 Teaspoon of table salt

11/2 level teaspoons of Dove’s or Allinson’s Easy Blend Yeast

2 Tablespoons of Olive Oil, plus extra for oiling bowl.

5 fl oz Boiling water, made up to 15 fl oz with cold water

Mix the dry ingredients well in a large bowl. Pour in the olive oil and most of the water mixture, which should feel hot to the fingers but not uncomfortably so.

Stir with a large spoon to mix together, adding the rest of the water as needed. A small amount of unincorporated flour is fine.

Dump the proto-dough onto the worktop, incorporate all the bits (the seeds will try and escape - do not let them.), and knead for about seven minutes. (You will get this down to about five minutes kneading with practice). Form the dough into a ball.

Pour a small puddle of extra oil into the bowl, drop in the dough, wiggle it about to coat lightly with oil, then cover loosely with clingfilm. Leave to rise until doubled in size. This is best done slowly, at room temperature.

When doubled in size, drop the dough back onto the counter and knead lightly for a minute to ensure there are no large air pockets.

Preheat the oven to gas 7, placing a rack in the middle of the oven.

Lightly oil or butter the loaf tin. Fold the dough into the tin, shaping the top slightly domed. Leave to “prove” (rise) until the dough rises to just above the top of the tin.

Make two evenly spaced cuts an inch or so down into the dough, running lengthways. This will allow the bread to rise evenly without tearing. Sprinkle with a dusting of wholemeal flour. Bake in the pre-heated oven for 30 – 40 minutes. You will know the bread is ready by the wonderful bready smell! Turn out of the tin and check it is cooked fully by tapping on the bottom of the loaf. It should sound “hollow”. (If not, put back in the oven for another five minutes or so, without the tin).

Cool on a rack, wrapped in a clean tea towel to help keep the crusts soft.

Memories Are Made Of This

Winning tickets for my wife and I to see Joan Armatrading yesterday set both our minds back more years than we would care to remember.

Over twenty years ago, as described here, we had met as trade union reps. There was an immediate attraction. I gave her my number. (My home number, mobile phones were the size of bricks and only for the ultra-rich). She rang for a date. Before I knew it, she had invited me on a little trip she was planning, and I had accepted.

A friend of hers was going to work in India. With Mother Theresa. My future wife was going to fly out and visit her. Thus it was that shortly after I had met my Better Half To Be, I was packing a rucksack and preparing for a month traveling from Calcutta north to Darjeeling, then up to Nepal, stopping in Kathmandu before flying back to Calcutta again.

I had never even been on a plane before.

Part of our luggage was a small recording Walkman cassette player with a built-in mono speaker. We only took five tapes with us, and they provided a soundtrack to that trip. What were the tapes?

Face Value (Phil Collins)

Chicken Skin Music (Ry Cooder)

Little Creatures (Talking Heads)

Planxty (Planxty)

And, Of Course, Joan Armatrading.

Going Nicely So Far

I promised my Consultant I would take thing easy, as I mentioned yesterday. I intend to do so. You do not mess with a woman with the gravitas of Hattie Jaques, a double-barreled name, and a scalpel digging around your nether regions.

There is a difference between rest and inaction however. I fully intend to keep busy. It will be interesting to see what I can achieve with the help of my Indispensable Black Kit.



(The Phantom's Black Kit, modelled by Tigger, The Tabby Kit. Laptop, Mobile Phone, Camera, Palm organiser and Ipod.)

Things are already going well. I just used my phone to enter a competition on London's Capital Gold radio station. I have just heard on the radio that I am one of the ten winners. A pair of tickets to a concert next week should be in the post today.

I won't say what the tickets are for yet - let's wait until they flop onto the mat!

UPDATE 12.10: Andy from Capital Radio has just rung and given me a code to quote at the box office. So, to find out where the Phantom and his Better Half will be next Tuesday, click HERE.

It Only Hurts When I Larf

Or Cough. Or Sneeze.

Glad to be back anyway. Am under strict orders to take it easy for the next few days. I was expecting to be signed off work for two weeks, but the Consultant has insisted on me taking four weeks off.

Lovely.

So I'm writing this in our bedroom, the sound of a Greater Spotted Woodpecker hammering in the trees outside. Tigger is curled up on the bed keeping my toes warm, he's been here all morning.

I'll just rest until I can take another painkiller in half an hour, then I shall struggle into my day clothes and pick up the paper. No Rush.

May is all mine.

The Usual Pressure Blog

Goes something like this…. Busy at work, unable to find the time to write, apologies.

This is not that blog. I NEVER write during work time. That is practically theft.

(Though I have been very busy at work, now that you mention it.)

No, I have been very busy at home, unable to find the time to write, apologies.

HOWEVER… I am going into hospital today for a quick (and hopefully minor) running repair. When I get out I will be off work for a couple of weeks, with no excuses for not blogging!!

You may wonder why I have written this.

Well, any operation does have a risk. Something could go wrong.

At least if this IS the last post, no one will think I died because I left my Lunch in the fridge.

Salad Heaven, Salad Hell.

Imagine my hunger.

Safe in the Staffroom fridge I had a plastic box of salad stuff left over from dinner the previous night. Clock-watching, my imagination savoured the contents of the box. Smoked salmon. Hot-Smoked mackerel. Potato salad made with mayonnaise and floury organic potatoes. Beetroot in balsamic vinegar. Coleslaw, cottage cheese and leaves of rocket and lamb’s lettuce dressed with lemon-flavoured Colonna Gran Verde olive oil…..

One O’clock came, I hastened to the fridge, grabbing my carrier bag from it and almost running to the park to claim a bench in the sun for the coming delights. I felt the soft give of the slice of bread I had cut, the hard metal of the fork rattling a drum beat as my feet struck the cherry-blossom path into our local greenspace.

I sat down, brought out the fork, laying it on a serviette on the bench. I placed the slice of bread down, rummaged for my bottle of water.

Let the feasting commence…

I opened the lid.

Potato Salad.

Wrong Box.

Shit.

My Lunch was still in the fridge at home.

Loafing About

With the weather forecast getting better by the day, we decided to visit to Kew Gardens yesterday.

Now, for us, one of the joys of the day is taking along a good picnic.

So, a couple of days ago I made some bread for our sandwiches.

If I can convince one person to try and make bread for the first time I will be happy.

Making bread is easy, and it doesn’t take hours of work.




I timed how long it took to make the dough from scratch. 15 Minutes!!
Then I left it to rise for an hour, whilst doing battle with my other half over the Scrabble Board.



After an hour of rising, I knocked the dough down (basically kneaded it again for two minutes). Then I popped the dough into a tin for the final rise (proving) whilst returning to the garden to finish off the game (I lost, badly.) (My wife would say I always do lose badly!)





Two hours after starting, the dough went into the oven.

And Voila!

There is something about blogging in the sunshine....

Somehow sitting at the laptop in the open air inspires fantasies of creativity; Hemingway sitting at his Remington, trusty shotgun at his shoulder….

(No don’t worry, I’m not feeling suicidal, far from it! Full of the joys of Spring, me!)

Happy Easter to everyone reading this. It’s midday and the sun is baking down, a fresh coolness pouncing on the unwary whenever one of the few passing clouds dares to cover the sun.

Yesterday the Legal Eagle and her Beau came round for an Easter Sunday celebration.

Main course was a handsome leg of Irish lamb. (Probably the left leg, it was very tender).

As always though, when the Legal Eagle is around, a good pudding is never far away.




This marvel was a “Tarte aux poires a la normande”, an excellent tart of pears in an almondy frangipane filling.

The recipe is in Jane Grigson’s excellent The Cooking of Normandy. (Now out of print and “Collectible”, available from Amazon second-hand)

When it arrived on the table, it looked as if we had been transported to the other side of the channel.

To conclude, a group photo to commemorate a great day:




(Left to Right, The Beau, Legal Eagle, The Phantom, The Phantom's Better Half).

Catching Up

(One of the many things I wanted to blog about but didn’t have the energy to in the last fortnight)....

A survey published recently which found that most people have a repertoire of only four or five recipes which they cook time and time again. The most commonly cooked family meals?

1. Spag Bol
2. Roast Dinner
3. Sausage and Mash
4. Stir Fry
5. Stew
6. Chicken Tikka Masala
7. Chilli Con Carne
8. Shepherd’s pie
9. Fish and Chips

With spag bol being cooked twice a week by over 6 million people.

One can’t help feeling that the number of people who actually cook Chicken Tikka rather than re-heat a ready meal is pretty slim. And fish and chips?

As with all surveys, you have to question the motives of those who commission it. In this case, learning that the survey was paid for by Loyd Grossman’s company (manufacturers of jars of ready-made sauces) gives a clue to the viewpoint in question.

Mr G. is saying that people are stuck in a rut, lacking in ideas and what they need is a jar of sauce!!

Surely what is needed is an improved range of knowledge about techniques and ingredients. A box of minced beef fried up to slush with onions is only ever that, regardless of whatever flavour sauce is poured on top. But that mince could be turned into fresh burgers, meatballs, meatloaf, lasagne, bastitsio or stuffed into any variety of cabbage, aubergine, pepper or tomato. Not to mention keema curry!

When Loyd Grossman presented Masterchef he helped stimulate ideas about techniques and ingredients. Now all he is doing is encouraging laziness in the kitchen and limiting people’s culinary horizons.

I am a sad enough foodie that I actually keep a food log of each day’s main meals. I went back over the last 10 Tuesdays. This is what we had:

1. Cottage pie (made with minced leftover roast lamb).
2. Baked Salmon Steaks
3. Pea and Jerusalem Artichoke Soup
4. Cold gammon Knuckle with parsnip mash
5. Baked Salmon Fillet on a bed of celeriac and carrot
6. Grilled Mackerel and trout with a warm ratatouille and couscous
7. Belly of pork braised with ginger, star anise and soy
8. Chinese Take Away (!) (I had the ‘flu)
9. Shop bought chicken curries (Ditto)
10. Casserole of Dublin (lamb shoulder) chops.

By and large, simple ingredients, simply prepared. And not a jar of sauce in sight….

Reasons To Be Cheerful, Part 3...

The good Mrs P and myself went round to see my Mother today. I hadn't seen her for a few weeks (I really didn't want to pass on my bugs to an eighty-year-old with a bad chest already). She looked and sounded much better than when I saw her last.

The weather was perfect; cool, and clear, blue skies with unbroken sunshine. We had come prepared with loppers, secateurs and gardening gloves, and gave my Mum's garden a thorough spring cleaning.

Getting home this evening our Visiting Cats arrived and joined us in the sitting room. We thought we would have a well-deserved treat and ordered a chinese take-away.

The meal was better than ever. We tried a few new dishes and they did not dissapoint.

They had popped a couple of fortune cookies in with our bag. After our meal I opened mine.

What cheerful thought did my cookie bring to round off a perfect day? I quote

"We are born crying, live complaining, and die disappointed."

Thanks for that...

Once again I must thank everyone who has been in touch and sent their best wishes. I think Monday just gone must have been rock bottom. I went to the Doctor in the morning, and nearly fainted on the way home. After all the stress my heart rhythmn started misbehaving. Nothing too serious, it settled back by the evening, but scary nonetheless…

I have the rest of this week to get my strength back. In a minute I am going to sit out in the spring sunshine; Tigger, our visiting cat, is patiently waiting for me to finish making my coffee and bring out the paper for him to sit on. (Only the Guardian will do.)

Hopefully normal service will now be resumed.

I can’t send a bunch of flowers to all my readers, but I can send you this, taken just now in our garden.





“To feel keenly the poetry of a morning's roses, one has to have just escaped from the claws of this vulture which we call sickness.” ~Henri Frederic Amiel

(And before you all leap in, I know, they're Pansies. Too early for roses!)

A Wizard Wheeze...

Is exactly what I still have. A week since I last summoned enough focus to post and I still feel dire.

I am not looking for sympathy, but after being on double-strength antibiotics since Monday I would expect to feel a little better.

In the comments to my previous post Aidan wonders whether I am suffering from the bird flu. I think it is unlikely, but as a fellow Tottenham supporter I may well be susceptible. I must admit I seem to have been in a decline since the Cup Tie From Hell.

If Silence Is Golden...

Then this blog should be worth quite a bit more than it was...

Apologies and many thanks for coming back to check on things.

I will never take the mickey out of the 'Flu again. I can see why it killed more people in 1918 than died in the first world war. I still haven't shaken it off properly.

I have gone back to work twice; the last time the boss made me sign a note saying that I wouldn't return until I was fully fit!! (I do have a great boss though, and no, she doesn't read this).

Worse thing was, I was supposed to be having a hernia repair operation on Thursday last. The Anaesthetist took one listen to my chest and he sent me packing too.

Nobody wants a Phantom with the Flu.

The Difference Between Flu and a Cold…

Is about three days of total feeling-like-shit.

I have had the Flu….

I have managed to miss

World Book Day,

St. David's Day

and The First Birthday of This Blog.

Moan, Whinge, Wheeze...

(Coughs Again....

More Tomorrow, If Spared....

Tomorrow England and Ireland, Next Month The World!!

Oh, the decline of Empire!

Tomorrow is World Book Day. In England. And Ireland.....

Err...

That's It...

Pink Bits on the map, where are they now?

Apparently The Rest of The World celebrate WBD on April 23rd. This has been deliberately chosen as it is (probably) Shakespeare's Birthday.

It takes little imagination to see why Ireland would not wish to have a major celebration on the birthday of England's greatest writer. A day which also happens to be the feast of St. George, patron saint of England.

But why don't the English celebrate it then?

I feel a campaign coming on....

Spring is Springing

In our part of London last week was half-term, a chance for students and staff alike to gather their wits and strength for the exam season to come. I spent many (too many?) years as a student, and it is only recently that the thought of June has ceased to give my stomach a sick lurch. (Now working in the education world I can enjoy watching the discomfiture of others without the sleepless nights that always accompanied my exam build-up).

Last week passed too quickly, and today's back-to-work feeling is only just wearing off. It isn't that I dislike my work; just that being away from it for a week reminded me that I rather like not working. This is different from being unemployed. (Being unemployed is miserable. I should know. I had an enforced career change that left me jobless for a year and a half.) Not working means being able to play with the visiting cats rather than pushing them out through the door in the morning. It means being able to make bread for the next day's sandwiches, to be consumed with a flask of tea at Kew Gardens in the spring sunshine. It means having the time to print and frame some of the digital photographs you have taken.

Mind you, it also means tidying the bedroom and cleaning the oven out, but you cant win 'em all.

Tonight, after a week not a work, I really noticed that I was arriving home in daylight. Spring is definitely here now.

A Happy New Year To All Our Readers (Part Two)

Last night found the Phantom, Mrs P and nine carefully selected friends enjoying the lights of London's very own Chinatown...



Mind you, as it was Chinese New Year we were far from alone. Gerard Street was shoulder-to-shoulder, jam packed. People were queueing in the streets to get a table in the restaurants. Luckily we had booked ahead, about three weeks before. We hadn't actually realised when we booked that it would be New Year... Why had we gathered?

To celebrate a very important Birthday!

I won't say how old my wife is, but it rhymes with Shifty, Nifty and Thrifty. (Two out of those three adjectives could even be applied to her.)

Our gathering had all the makings of a joke - amongst others we had a nun, a lawyer, an accountant and an insurance salesman. Good job nobody had to change a lightbulb....

To everyone who made last night such a special and enjoyable occasion, Thank You.

And Cheers!!

Today's Sandwich Selection for Sixth Formers

The Phantom will let you know if he starts leaping into phone boxes and wearing his pants on the outside!!

Talking Turkey

Last Friday, as the Bernard Mathews turkey scare gobbled up even more headlines, our college caterers excelled themselves with the half-price dish of the day, turkey burgers.

To say that the first appearance of turkey on the menu this year was ill-timed is an understatement. Today however, our caterers excelled themselves. Our students were proudly offered pre-packed turkey salad sandwiches, each one bearing a sticker - "Turkey - A Superfood,".

AAARGGHHH!!!

Thank You New Blogger. I know my laptop needs upgrading, Windows '98 SE is not supported anymore etc etc. But old Blogger worked perfectly with it, no problems. With the new Google-powered blogger I have to log in to GoogleGroups and then sneak in sideways. Logging in through the front door seems impossible. Well, I spent about three hours trying to do it over the weekend - three hours I would have much preferred to have spent bloody blogging.

Forcibly Moved!

Against my will I have been forcibly "Migrated" to the Blairite New Blogger. I have read an awful lot of things about it, none good. I offer my apologies now for any unsightly changes to the appearance of this blog, and any gaps in posting. Blogger managed to lock me out totally yesterday. I am still not sure if I can post from my laptop! Time will tell...

Bon Voyage

Further to my preceding post. Yesterday I released my first book “into the wild”. I had given it all the advantages I could. It was lunchtime, and I chose a park which has a pretty high through-traffic. I protected the book in a waterproof see-through zip-lock bag, and a big yellow Post-It proclaimed “I’m Not Lost, I’m Free!” on the cover. I even included a bookmark which explains more about the bookcrossing idea.


I had sat down on a bench in the middle of the park. I took the book from my bag and placed it on the bench next to me. Mental images of John le Carre novels washed over me. Even though my heart was racing I tried to look nonchalant. I guess I rather ruined the cool approach by reaching into my bag for my camera and taking a last photo before I walked off!




I moved into cover about a hundred yards away and ate my lunch, deliberately not looking over to the bench and its package.

About ten minutes later, lunch eaten but not remembered or really even noticed, I couldn’t resist walking back for a look.

My book had gone. Flown into the wild.

Only about a fifth of books released ever get “journaled” on the website, but at least mine had rapidly found a new owner. News could arrive at any time, an email to say the book has a new entry on the website.

I wish the new owner happy reading.

The Guardian recently had an article concerning bookcrossing. As always, the Phantom is just ahead of the crest of the wave!!

Making the World...

One of the first posts on this blog was about World Book Day. It will be coming round again in only a few weeks.

I would like to mention two book related sites that I have been spending some time on recently.

The first is Librarything.com. Put simply, it is a site that will catalogue your books for you. All you need to do is just type in the ISBNs. Pretty soon you will have a searchable catalogue database, all held on the web and accessible from wherever you have a connection. Librarything allows you to label books with your own tags and search among other user's collections.


The second site is Bookcrossing.com.

Bookcrossing is all about "making the world a library". You find a book you like, register it (for free), and let it go, releasing it on a park bench or in a waiting-room. The next person who finds the book and likes it enough to take it away is invited to go online and look the book up. Just by going to the site and typing in a short number (written inside the book) they can see where the book has been, and what other people ("Journalers") thought of it. The idea is to make a new Journal entry, and then, after reading the book, leave it somewhere for someone else to find.

Such a simple idea, but it is already building a real community of booklovers.

I will be putting sidebar links up very soon.

Blogging Goes Mainstream

It had to happen eventually! Bloggers have finally become accepted into that epitome of Little Britain, The Archers. Ambridge has always been at the forefront of the techno-revolution. The village has its own website, and the local pub, The Bull, even has an internet cafe.

Now, Ian and Adam, recently "Civil Partnered", have set up a blog on which to document their honeymoon trip. Mind you, they are the only gays in the village, and therefore allowed to be a little avant garde.

A Month Since Christmas

It’s hard to believe but it really is one twelfth of a year since Christmas day. It’s been a long month, tiring. Going back to work always takes an effort, but especially so when the mornings are still dark, and the cold nights make a warm duvet even more difficult to throw off.

It doesn’t even seem like a week since gales were sweeping the country. Yesterday brought the first of the winter’s snow for those of us in the south. I had to rush into work for an early start, but I couldn’t resist snatching a photo of our garden.



The snow works a silent magic every time.

With time seeming to speed up, now is the moment to start planning for the coming summer in our garden. The pyramid on the right in the photo is a mini greenhouse, a Growmate. A few years ago we got organised, sowing seeds and growing petunias, bizzy-lizzies, salvias, chillis, basil and tumbling tomatoes. Recently we have let things slip, and the Growmate has been more of a storage space. (Though Bernard, one of our visiting cats, was using it as an highly architectural litter tray until we discovered what he was doing.)

This year will be different. (Do we say that every year?) I have learned my lessons. After our first successful year I got over-ambitious, planting seeds too early when the days were still too short. The resulting seedlings grew spindly and fell over, or succumbed to damping-off. This year I will plan ahead, but bide my time…

English – The Language of Uncertainty

If the purpose of a newspaper headline is to convey unequivocal meaning quickly, this headline singularly fails the test…



When I first saw the above headline (on the current edition of Eastern Eye) I thought it concerned a vigorous debate about reincarnation! It turned about to be about a man released from prison in Pakistan. I link to the Guardian’s article here.

Before and After

This was the proud, three storey high billboard which used to face our college.




After today's Gales this was all that was left to clear up...



It looked bloody heavy too. Luckily nobody was hit, though the debris closed one lane of the road for the afternoon

An Ill Wind

I wrote the previous item in my lunchbreak. It was only when I went out for a stroll later that I realised quite how bad the weather is here in London.

Just outside our college a large advertising hoarding had been blown down onto the road. The park just down the road had been closed because a number of trees had been uprooted.

Now, at afternoon break time, our college is empty and, for once, silent.

A glass roof at the front of our building has been bucking and twisting, threatening to shatter at any moment. It is right in front of our main entrance (and exit) and is our main fire route out of the building. Naturally that exit can’t be used, so all the students have been sent home. There are just three of us in the library now, and the place feels like a cross between the Titanic and the Marie Celeste….

Lowpoint of the Year

There is definitely something in the air at this time of year. A miasma of malaise seems to hover just above everyone you talk to. Although the days have been getting longer for nearly a month now, they still seem pinched, grey, drab and dismal. The mornings are still dark and oppressive. I normally wake up a few minutes before my alarm goes off. In the last week I have slept clean through the alarm three times.

January 2nd may have been the worst day
for staff sickness generally, but in our library we have had 20% sickness rates all week long. Half term is only a month away, but it feels like forever to wait….

The last few days all I have felt good for when I get home is just crashing out on the floor in front of the TV and the paper, or falling asleep in the armchair with one of our visiting cats.

Still, things aren’t necessarily better when the sun is shining. Check out this article
from my friend Welsh Dog over at Opinion Australia.

After reading that, the rain and greyness doesn’t seem so bad after all!

The GJP

The Grilled Jacket Potato is one of the few items in my culinary repertoire that I actually feel I have invented. I say "feel" because in the kitchen very few ideas are new. All i can say with any honesty is that I don't recall seeing the idea anywhere else.

One of the most common uses of the microwave must surely be making a jacket potato. They certainly cook quickly,but they can be somewhat unsatisfying. The very speed with which they cook seems to deprive the spud of flavour. Cooked in a traditional oven the outside skin crisps up, providing depth of flavour and contrasts in texture. The nuked spud seems soft and pallid in comparison.

My technique is designed to give the potato back some some flavour and texture. It is still quick, and the gain in flavour is significant.

1. Prick potato with fork a couple of times and cook as normal in the microwave.

2. Cut potato in half through longest axis.

3. Score cut sides of spud lightly in a diamond pattern.

4. Cut a piece of butter about an inch square from a fridge-hard block.

5. Spear butter with a fork and run gently over the cut surface of the potato, allowing as much butter to melt as your waistline or conscience will allow.

6. Grind plenty of black pepper and salt onto the now slightly roughened, buttery surface.

7. Place under a pre-heated grill until golden, brown, and irresistible.



I came up with the idea as an alternative to full-on roast potatoes. You get some of the crunch without so many calories!

The Last of the Christmas Veg Box

It is amazing how dependent one can get on a vegbox. Last night we used the last vegetable from our enlarged order delivered the Friday before Christmas. We are counting the days…

We had ordered an extra cauliflower, and it was still lovely and fresh when we had it last night, to accompany roast chicken and our special invention, the Grilled Jacket Potato. (More on the GJP tomorrow.)


Now, spuds, cauliflower and chicken could end up being a plate full of grey. However, we still had some double cream left in the fridge, and plenty of cheese. So, feeling indulgent, we decided to have cauliflower cheese. The gratineed top lifts the whole meal.




Doesn’t this look delicious?

The secret to a good Cauli Cheese is simple, steam the cauliflower for just a few minutes and then allow to cool, uncovered. This make sure the cauli is dry, preventing the cheese sauce from being thinned down by watery juices, and still leaving the veg with some texture.

The sauce was made with ½ pint milk, ¼ pint double cream, a couple of tablespoons of plain flour and roughly a quarter of a packet of butter. The technique was Delia Smith’s all-in-one white sauce method.


I used extra flour for a thicker end result. Once the sauce was made, and off the heat, I added a goodly amount of grated mature cheddar, and a small amount of freshly grated parmesan. The mixture was assembled in a greased gratin dish, the cauliflower given a dusting of nutmeg before the sauce was put on, and finally finished with a further sprinkling of parmigiano on top of the sauce. Twenty minutes in a hot oven did nicely. You can give it a flash under the grill to finish colouring the top if needed.

This dish is so good, you could have it as a main course with just a salad and some crusty bread.

Happy New Year To All Our Readers

Wherever you are in the world we both hope you have a Happy and Healthy 2007.

My fellow Finsbury Park blogger a.c.t. posted a photo of her family Nativity scene.

Over here at Phantom H.Q. the Health and Safety Inspectors decided that straw and our passion for night-lights was a bit of a risky combination, so we had to give the hay the old heave ho.

We like a slightly non-traditional twist, so see if you can spot the odd-one-out in our crib scene...




This just happens to be post 101. It seems appropriate to hit a turning point like that on the first day of the New Year. Phantom's Resolution? Keep Blogging!!

Things I Have Learned This Christmas

The road to a peaceful Christmas does not involve going to Waitrose. It does involve going to Midnight Mass. And singing.

Picking up your turkey from the butcher on Christmas Eve saves a lot of hassle and a considerable amount of fridge room.

Having your veg delivered saves time and energy fighting over the last parsnip in the shop.

Sprouts are best cooked slightly under, chilled rapidly, then zapped in the microwave with a little stock or butter when needed.

Having double cream and decent chicken or turkey stock on hand makes so many dishes just a bit more special.

If you do it properly, a three-course Christmas dinner will mean you do not get hungry for at least twenty-four hours after. (Or was I a bit greedy?)

A juicer is for life, not just Christmas. (Though actually that was a birthday present, ten days before Christmas). A glass of freshly made carrot and pear juice with ginger on Boxing day sets you up for the second round of the festivities like nothing I know.

And something I already knew, but it bears repeating….

There Is No Such Thing As Too Many Cookbooks.

Chim Chim Cheree

In the days of open fires it was considered lucky to have a chimney sweep attend your wedding. In these days of radiators, chimney sweeps are somewhat difficult to come by. The lady phantom and I went one better at our wedding – we had a road sweeper. He didn’t just attend the wedding, he performed the service!

A little background would help here. Imagine the early to mid ‘Eighties – Thatcher is getting into her swing, local authorities are reeling from competitive tendering and round after round of spending cuts are hitting home.

The Phantom is yet to don his cape and tights. He works as a Home Help, shopping and cleaning for mostly elderly clients. His fellow Home Helps are mostly women, all poorly paid. The Phantom decides to try and make things better, and becomes a Shop Steward in the National Union of Public Employees.

One day, over a long oak committee room table, he spies the woman who is to become his wife. She is a shop steward at a local swimming pool. After the meeting, on a bus home, he gives her his phone number. She rings, arranges a date, and the rest is our history.

One of our fellow activists was a road sweeper. But he had a big secret. He was also a worker priest. He was a good friend of ours, so when we decided to marry, he seemed to be the natural choice to perform the service. There were surprised looks upon the faces of some of the wedding guests when they saw their mate the sweep standing up on the altar in full priestly regalia. It gave the local paper an interesting story too…

We hadn’t seen him for a few years. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I was walking past a building society at lunchtime and almost bumped into him. As luck would have it he was only down for the day, but I got his new address, up in Tyneside, his native area. Our last few Christmas cards had never got to him. We posted one to his new address right away.

If you are reading this, John, we’ll be raising a glass to you on Christmas Day.

We would both like to wish all our friends a very happy Christmas. Once the madness has settled down I’m sure we’ll have some interesting leftover recipes to post!

Food For Thought

I would like to point my reader to this extremely interesting …article on food politics in the current issue of The Economist. Forgiving myself the pun, there is a lot of food for thought contained in it.

I do have one objection though. The article quotes from a DEFRA report which says “It turns out to be better for the environment to truck in tomatoes from Spain during the winter, for example, than to grow them in heated greenhouses in Britain.” Surely this is approaching the argument from totally the wrong angle. It must be better for the environment to only grow tomatoes in season, in the summer. We don’t need to grow tomatoes in the winter. That’s what tins and jars are for, and they taste better in season too.

It is a very interesting article nevertheless. Do read it. I look forward to any comments.

Die, Lady, Die

An article in today’s Guardian
gives more information of Princes Harry and Wills’ plans for a tenth anniversary celebration commemoration of Lady Diana’s death next summer. Their will be a concert which will take place the day after a church service…

"We want [the anniversary commemoration] to represent exactly what our mother would have wanted; how she was and all that sort of thing," said William. "So therefore the church service alone isn't enough.”

…”how she was and all that sort of thing”… Like Diana, expect all the artistes to have to undergo virginity checks before performing… The stage will be set with a grand staircase which will allow star turns of the calibre of Elton John and Duran Duran to throw themselves down it in a bid to attract attention. Acts will then gorge on food, and vomit over the audience, grabbing the hands of land-mine victims suffering from AIDS and singing “We Are The World”. Oh, hang on, that last bit was Michael Jackson…

The concert is on 1st July 2007. (If Wembley Stadium is finished by then of course.) Tickets go on sale tomorrow at this website.

Chocolate Pecan Pie

As promised. The recipe seems a bit lengthy, but comes together pretty quickly. The result is definitely worth the effort. The recipe is from Anton Mosimann's "Naturally", (Ebury Press 1991.) Curiously both the Legal Eagle and the Phantom have the book in their collections.Serves 8

OVEN: Moderately hot, 200 C/ 400 F/ Gas 6, then moderate, 180 C/ 350 F/ Gas 4

1 quantity Sweet Pastry (see below)

Roll out the pastry, and use to line a 20cm (8in) tart tin. Line with foil, fill with baking beans, then bake blind in the preheated oven for 10 minutes. Remove the beans and foil and bake the flan case for another 6-7 minutes. Cool.

Reduce the temperature of the oven.

The Filling:

Melt together over a pan of hot water

120g (4 ½ oz) plain chocolate, chopped into small pieces

50g (2 oz) unsalted butter

Whisk together

4 eggs
230 ml (7 ½ fl oz) maple syrup
a few drops of vanilla essence

Then blend the melted chocolate into the egg and syrup mixture. Mix well.

Stir In

250g (9 oz) shelled pecan nuts

Stir in, then pour the mixture into the pastry case. Bake in the moderate oven for about 30 minutes until the tart has puffed slightly in the centre, and has just set.

Icing sugar
Whipped cream

Serve warm with a dusting of icing sugar and some whipped cream.

For The Sweet Pastry

150 g (5 oz) plain flour, sifted
100 g (4 oz) unsalted butter, cut into cubes,
30 g (1 ¼ oz) icing sugar, sifted
1 egg yolk
finely grated rind of ½ lemon

Place the flour in a mound on a clean work surface, and make a well in the centre.
Add the butter, sugar, egg yolk and rind, and work together with the fingertips, gradually incorporating the flour, to a smooth paste.

Roll into a ball and rest for at least 20 – 30 minutes in the refrigerator.

Roll out and use to line a greased 20 cm (8 in) tart tin. Leave in a cool place to rest for 30 minutes.

Culture Corner, or, On The Way Home From Work Tonight - a true poem

He got on my bus,
The Poet, John Hegley,
And sitting
Quite close
His hand brushed my legley.

Old Friends

We had the Legal Eagle and her partner around for a meal last weekend. As usual too many months had passed since we last met, and we couldn’t remember the last time we had them round for dinner.

I did the main course, my feathered friend the dessert.
(The Eagle has always had cold hands, which may be a discomfort as the weather grows more wintry, but has decided advantages when it comes to making pastry).

Now, I wouldn’t say that the Eagle is always late. She was on time for our wedding (as a guest, that is!). But in the ensuing nineteen years shall we say she has been tardy more often than punctual. To the extent that I either cook something that can stand without spoiling, or something so quick I can put it on when she arrives! I guess having to be on time for court appearances during the week produces a reverse tendency at the weekend. This time was no exception. At the appointed hour the phone rang. The pudding had just gone into the oven. They would be over as soon as possible.

Ladies and Gentlemen, it was worth the wait. My aquiline dinner guest arrived within the hour, bearing a Chocolate Pecan Pie. The smell of butter and chocolate filled the room as soon as it was unveiled, born aloft on a wooden board, looking somehow mediaeval and rather grand. (the Pie, not the Guest).



We managed to get a photo before it was too late...



Unfortunately you can’t taste the lemony pastry or the rich eggy chocolate filling.

I will post the recipe soon.

Winter Draws On

According to figures in a recent Guardian article “Since January 2004, average household energy bills have risen by 69% or £407.” We all need to try and cut our energy consumption.

We recently had thermostatic valves put on to the individual radiators in our house. Prior to this we were controlling the heat by turning the main thermostat in the hall up or down as required.

Take a tip from us. If you get the chance, make sure you get the main thermostat sited in the living room, not in the hall. Nobody stays in the hall, you only ever pass through it. It is absolutely crazy allowing the ouput of your central heating system to be governed by the ambient temperature in a room that nobody ever uses. In our case the biggest rad in the house was bang opposite the thermostat. Net result being the thermostat got lovely and warm and switched the heating off. Downstairs on the hard concrete floor we were slowly freezing.

Thankfully we can now adjust the individual rads, and get the heat just right in each room. We have actually managed to turn the main thermostat down by six degrees and still feel warmer. Our bank balances should feel healthier too, especially as gas has gone up in price so many times recently.

We all need to make more efforts to save on energy consumption (and I don’t mean get up later). Just switching off unneeded electrical items will save a considerable amount. I was talking to the senior I.T. technician at my college this morning. His department have worked out that by just shutting down all the PCs in the college at night and at weekends they will make a saving of £15,000 a month on the energy bill.
That’s enough to buy an awful lot of books for the students.

Ferry Good News?

As someone who has suffered more than his share of rough channel crossings, the Guardian of Monday week had good news. A Dutch court case may mean that we can import goods from France over the internet without paying U.K. Duty. The days of the “Booze Cruise” may well be numbered.

We used to go over on coach trips to Calais organised by our union, the late and much lamented N.U.P.E. They would normally be about now, late November. Getting to Calais and back via coach and cross-channel ferry meant a start at about 6.00 am, getting home around seventeen hours later. (On one never-to-be-lived-down occasion the Phantom literally missed the boat, arriving home about three hours later than everyone else. In the Doghouse wasn’t in it. I was wishing I was allowed near the Doghouse).

Recently we haven’t bothered. The relaxation of the rules over personal consumption had lead to people going over with vans and the atmosphere on the ferries has become grim, professional and obnoxious. To be honest, we mostly went over for the food anyway – Boudins Blanc and Noir, Duck Confit, Lardon pork, and the cheeses. Camembert, Brie, Roquefort…. Not to mention jars and bottles of fish soup and rouille…. Lovely reminders of how good food should be.

Mind you, if we can end up buying bottles of Gewurtztraminer for £4.00 each, we’ll be on the internet ordering a couple of cases before you can say V.A.T.

Liver and Bacon

My good friend the Welsh Dog is on a diet. Not unusually he is practically unable to think about anything other than food. I do hope he will forgive me for posting the photo below. We both have a great love of "wet" food, - stews, soups and casseroles.

Liver and bacon casserole, with Kabocha squash mash and stir fried kale and mushrooms.




Hope the diet is going well Mate!

By the way, it tasted Lovely!

The Roast Beef of Old England

One of the joys of doing a roast at the weekend is having leftovers to play with later on in the week.

Cold roast pork we normally eat as it is. I think pork actually has a better flavour cold. Lamb is more tricky. The amount of fat, especially on a shoulder, indicates that it needs to be served hot. (Serving it cold means spending a considerable amount of time going over the meat removing the excess fat before it can be served).

With beef, however, we have the best of both worlds. Delicious hot and cold, even the fat is tasty. It also lends itself to one of the great leftover meals, cottage pie.

There is very little more comforting on a wet and dreary night than knowing that there is a cottage pie waiting to be popped in the oven, emerging golden brown and bubbling in just about the time it takes to drink a couple of glasses of wine and unwind a bit.

Cottage pie should be simple to make. Take cold leftover beef, mince finely, then add to fried onions, carrot and celery, fry briefly, then add stock, Worcestershire sauce, a small amount of tomato, and simmer till thickened and volcanically erupting. Top with mash, whack into oven and heat at gas 5 till bubbling. Finish off if necessary under the grill.

Hang on though – “mince finely”??

How many people actually have a mincer any more? In the kitchens of our parents and grandparents a mincer would have been a standard item of equipment. Now they are so unusual the spellchecker thinks the word should be “mince” or “miner”.

Not so long ago the name SPONG was proudly displayed in kitchens across the land! You can use a food processor to chop the leftover beef, but it can easily over work the meat. The beauty of the mincer is that it guarantees to break any meat fibres up into manageable pieces, especially if you run the meat through the mincer twice.

It’s not uncommon to find these lovely metal and wood mincers in second hand shops. If you do see one, give it a good home. I can assure you your cottage pies will taste all the better for it!

Souperman Replies

My old friend Welsh Dog, now resident in Australia, posted this reply to my most recent post on his own blog. I felt I should reply in the same way. (Please forgive what may read like a mutual flattery sesssion. Normal cynicism will resume shortly).

Welsh Dog! Many thanks for your compliments. I am humbled. I always had great respect for your culinary talents. I remember thinking that I didn’t like parsnips until I tasted your roasted ones!

Mrs P. remembers your good lady saying she only ate for fuel many years ago. It must be soul destroying!

I have to say though that I only cook because I love to eat. If you are going to eat, you should eat as well as you can. And if you want to eat as well as you can, you need to cook.

I grew up eating simple food, simply cooked. My mother always says she wouldn’t let me anywhere near the kitchen when I was growing up. I certainly don’t remember ever being involved in cooking when I was at home.

Even when I moved in with a girlfriend it took a while to find where the kitchen was. I distinctly remember that one of our standard meals was frozen beefburgers served with boiled (frozen) diced peppers and dried noodles!

I wouldn’t worry about your youngsters and their food fussiness. Just serve them tasty food made with love. It might not happen ‘til they leave home for uni, but they will remember your cooking, remember how good it was, and start trying for themselves. If they are eating home made burgers, grilled or roast chicken and steaks you are doing fine. Sounds like good, tasty food.

Don't let the high carbohydrate diet get you down either. Any diet that encourages you to eat macaroni cheese can't be bad!

Souper!

I felt terribly guilty at lunchtime. I was in the staffroom. As usual the discussion centred around the canteen food, and how awful it was. (I was tucking into a bowl of home-made soup).

“This soup is terribly salty” my colleague finally announced, looking at the Styrofoam cup half full of red glop that had cost him nearly two pounds.

“In fact all I can taste is salt.”

The consensus was that the soup had probably come out of a packet. In that case though, why was it so expensive?

The Phantom’s First Law of Catering was formulated at this point.

This states “You can have quick or you can have good.”

That packet soup had probably been made in about 30 minutes, assuming it wasn’t a cup-a-soup type instant job. The soup I was consuming had been considerably longer in the making.

I started off with a roast shoulder of British lamb on Sunday. On Monday evening I made stock by simmering the left over shoulder (still on the bone), with onions, leek, carrot and celery. I left this to cool overnight. The next day the fat had risen to the surface and solidified. This was taken off to leave a fat free stock. Next I took the remaining meat off the bone and put most of it aside. (Tigger, the Visiting Cat had the rest!)

Fresh organic leek, onion, carrot and potato were added to the stock and simmered until cooked. The meat was put back, and I thickened the soup with some pearl barley that I had cooked separately. (I often find barley catches and burns, so I don’t risk destroying a soup or stew by cooking the two together).

The lamb broth had been in the making for three days, had cost very little per portion, and it was delicious.

My colleague was not so happy.

His last words as he left the staffroom, hungry and feeling ripped-off?

“I can’t feel my mouth any more”!

Blog On Log On

Working in a modern college library means working with computers. Lots of them. And working with computers means passwords and log-ins. I thought today I would actually keep a running tally of how many times I had to enter a password or log in.

I was only doing 9-5, nothing unusual.


Half an hour after lunch and I was already up to 18 times.


By “close of play” I had typed my security details 34 times.


The sooner they introduce iris recognition software the better!

No One Expects the Spanish Inquisition.

This blog normally and quite happily avoids comment on religious matters. However, as I have already referred to religious intolerance in Iraq, I couldn’t resist drawing your attention to an example closer to home. Please see this article in today’s Guardian which my wife spotted.

Note that the group in question was formed by a disgruntled catholic barrister. He must be one of the few catholic barristers who isn’t in the current Labour government. No wonder he is unhappy.

Then again, my maternal grandfather was a druid, so maybe I’m biased.

Fear and Loathing in Iraq

News is filtering through that Iraq is being locked down in anticipation of a death sentence being passed upon Saddam Hussein, ex mad butcher of Persia.

According to the BBC "their are fears of outbreaks of violence..."

Ahem! Excuse me but hasn't there been nothing but death and destruction for the last couple of years?

The ridiculous internecine murdering between sunni and shia muslim factions has been going on since shortly after the death of Muhammed. It makes the divisions of Northern Ireland look like a minor family dispute.

The only peaceful future for Iraq is a secular one, and that isn't likely to happen any time soon.

A Stern Warning

One of the highlights of the few days off work I had last week was a walk with my other half over Hampstead Heath and through Kenwood.

One of the things that was most noticeable was the russet shades of the autumn leaves. There weren't any. Everything was still green.

The mild weather we have had recently had even fooled the spring crocuses into weak and leggy premature flowering.



Adding to the confusion, the female holly bushes on the fringes of Kenwood were heavy with berries. Very early, and, traditionally, a pre-cursor of a heavy winter to come.



The weather we are having at the moment is certainly eccentric. Can we afford to assume that it isn't global warming?

Mightier Than The Sword

In the ‘seventies I used to wear a badge that said

“Well meaning Guardian readers against the bomb”.

(in fact I may still have it.)

Nowadays Guardian readers are more associated with knitting muesli and driving electric cars (thank you Mr Clarkson.)

The food writing in that esteemed organ has always been first class. (They have Hugh Fearlessly-Eatsitall as their Weekend food writer at the moment; in the past they have had Colin Spencer, Mathew Fort, and my personal favourite, Richard Ehrlich). One of their less well known writers is Dan Lepard.

In honour of the English apple season, I direct your attention to his apple cake recipe. It is simple to make, and a delight to eat.

Taking Stock

No, not a recipe this time…

It’s half term in the college library. Normally this would be when we would have a good tidy, do some book prep, and recharge our batteries.

Not this time. After the catalogue of IT disasters we are still behind. One of the summer jobs is the annual stocktake. This didn’t happen for various reasons.

First the hand-held scanners we had bought the year before were found to be dead as doornails. (The manufacturers gently pointed out that they had to be kept charged up between uses. Thanks for telling us AFTER they died).

Replacements were purchased, at further expense. Then the finest brains in our IT section couldn’t get the software and the hardware to communicate.

So, for the last two days we have been taking books off the shelves, scanning the barcodes, then putting them back. Yesterday I scanned the entire 500’s section in Dewey. Nearly 2000 books. I was practically seeing barcodes in my sleep last night

I have the rest of this week off. Well earned I say.

Mind you, the bookcase in our living room could do with a tidy….

Core Values

Around the country at the moment events are being held to celebrate the start of the English apple season. It is about time.

Apple growing in England is declining; orchards are being grubbed-up daily in favour of planting subsidised crops that benefit no-one except the farmers grabbing the subsidies. The government plans for the expansion of the area around the Eurotunnel at Ashford are hitting at the heart of the English apple growing area.

Worse than this, pressure (from the supermarket buyers) for uniformity of size and shape, and long shelf life, has led to a dramatic decrease in the number of varieties of apple grown in this country.

When I was at primary school I remember the local fruit and veg shop giving away promotional packs of playing cards. Each card had a picture of a different variety of apple on it. Fifty-two different varieties, plus the joker. Now the Greengrocers is a block of flats and you are lucky to find more than about six varieties on sale at your “local” supermarket. Most of what you can find will be from New Zealand or France, even in the middle of the English apple season.

So, if you feel like helping to support a part of a great English tradition, buy a few home-grown apples this weekend. From a greengrocer. If you can find one.

Something Furry in the Veg Box

Just to give you an idea of the size of the box we get...



Mr T. is modelling the re-usable waxed cardboard Medium Veg Box...

Thinking Outside the (Veg) Box

There is already quite a community building up around the Riverford Veg Boxes. I recommend that interested readers drop in to Veg Box Diaries where Gastropunk and Maths Chick have ideas and inspiration for all matters vegetal.

The Green Spiky Thing...

It was handsome. Architectural. Somehow it reminded me of Thailand, pagodas and temples. Fractal images growing on a screen saver. It was in last Friday's Veg box...

Ladeez and gennlmen, I give you the mighty, undefeated Romanesco!!!



Such a lovely looking vegetable, a variety of late summer cauliflower, deserved to be cooked whole. It was duly washed, trimmed and popped in a steamer for twenty-five minutes or so.

It became part of a veg box extravaganza, served with cooked red chard, roast potatoes and roasted red squash.


The grilled Gilt-head Bream only just made it onto the plate!

It was lovely, nuttier than a normal cauli, and less watery.

Tomorrow we get another box. Not knowing what you will get is half the fun!

It's Not Easy Being Green, But it Can Be.

For ages the Phantomette and I have been saying “we really ought to eat more vegetables”, looking at each other, and then going and opening a tin of beans. (Or Farrows Marrowfat Peas, one of my childhood comfort foods, green (too green) , plump and floury.)

Our vegetable consumption declined still further when our local greengrocer closed after a period of decline involving increasingly manky vegetables and decreasing customers.

A few months ago we decided that the best way of eating more vegetables was by having the veg delivered to us. We had seen Abel and Cole vans around our area quite frequently, butI didn’t fancy going with them. They looked quite pricy. Also I had heard that they air-freight quite a bit of foreign produce, and they also have a liking for plastic packaging.

Fate is a strange thing though. The good lady Phantom has a sister living down in Devon. When we were down there last we discovered an organic food shop attached to Riverford Farm, just down the road from where we were staying. A few months later we were checking them out on the web when we saw that the same family also ran a veg box delivery scheme.

At the time Riverford weren’t delivering in Sunny Islington. They did put us on a waiting list though. By September we got the good news that deliveries were starting in our area. We haven’t looked back!

There is a real sense of anticipation on Thursday night, wondering what new and interesting produce will be delivered the next day. I love discovering the different flavours and textures. The veg box also helps keep us in touch with the seasons, the golden sweetcorn of late summer giving way to the rich reds of the autumn squashes.

We are certainly eating more vegetables. Tomorrow I will tell of what Mrs P described as “A Green, Spiky Thing”. And no, it wasn’t a globe artichoke. Or even a kohl rabi!

Blooming Lovely!

Mrs Phantom works for the local Social Services Department. As I have mentioned before, the job is often thankless and unrewarding.

Sometimes though, a little "Thank You" comes along and makes it all worthwhile. A couple of days ago, (with a lot of help from her daughter), one of Mrs P.'s clients picked some rosebuds from her garden.



In the heat of our busy kitchen they have bloomed beautifully. They really are appreciated too.

Getting in a Bit of a Pickle

As the nights are drawing in fast I can’t help looking forward to Christmas. One of the joys of Autumn is gathering goodies to transform into edible presents. A trip to the local greengrocers last week yielded tiny silverskin onions. While they are divine just plainly pickled in cider vinegar and a few mustard seeds, they really come into their own as an ingredient in piccalilli.




The Ingredients Before...



This has got to be one of the great pickles, sweet, crunchy, mildly mustardy with just the right amount of moisture to set off a hunk of mature Cheddar and some homemade wholemeal bread, or slices of cold roast pork or chicken.

Unlike chutney, piccalilli is relatively quick to make. The ingredients are cheap at this time of year and the glow of the full jars almost lights up the larder. The most difficult bit is waiting three months for the pickle to mature.



...And After...



Actually, the most difficult bit is writing the labels for the jars. I never seem to spell piccalilli the same way twice!

I always follow Delia Smith’s old recipe, from her original Cookery Course book. You can find it here, (it’s the first one given). If you search Delia’s own website you will find a revised version which I haven’t made yet.

Pickle Now, Enjoy Later!!

Back To School (Part Two)

The pencils are now blunted, shirts smeared with Quink,
The staff in the Sixth Form near driven to drink,
What could go wrong has, I.T. in a mess,
No printing, no log-ons, and yet I confess,
Throughout all the chaos and tearing of hair
I NEVER ONCE FELT LIKE THROWING A CHAIR!

I quite enjoyed the chaos really. The last week has been mad at work. Computer Problems. Computer Booking System problems, Printing Problems, Student Log-in Problems… If I could play blues guitar I would be set up for life…

I think what I really like about my job is helping people, and when this many things go pear-shaped I get plenty of practice. Throw in a quick chest infection and some home pickling and you have my last 2 weeks in a nutshell. Or a pickle jar.

Of matters acetic, I will write more soon.

Spooky

Or, of course, the torn-off fragment of an envelope printed with a John Bull printing kit could be a an MI5 plot to smear Islamic fanatics......

What's that Harry?....

OOPs.

John Bull Returns

The item below was found this afternoon attached to a bus stop in Rock Street, Finsbury Park. About 100 metres from the mosque at which Abu Hamza used to "preach".




A great contribution to religeous tolerance methinks...

Another Opening, Another Show…

Traffic is getting heavier in the mornings. WH Smith has bogoffs on cartridge pen refills. Young parents curse as the needle stabs them for the third time, blood shedding on the Cash’s Name Tape.

It is “Back to School” time, with or without exclamation marks.

In my Sixth Form College the quiet rhythmn of the summer months has slowly speeded up. Course guidance, followed by enrolements. More enrolements, Emergency frantic Late Enrolements. Finally, today, Timetable De-clashing.

This is, at its simplest, twenty tutors locked in a room with 200 students until someone gives in and solves the problem of needing to be in two different places at the same time for different courses. Unlike an infinite number of monkeys, the tutors have never reproduced the works of Shakespeare, but they always get the timetable sorted out in the end.

In the library we have been quietly moving, sorting, polishing and laminating. Lots of laminating. (Though not quite as much as the Great Laminating Fever of A Few Years Ago. This epidemic of en-plasticisation was brought on by an imminent OFSTED Inspection. In an effort to impress, any piece of paper larger than bog roll was laminated. When the sun shone whole corridors glinted. Eskimo glare shields were hastily improvised. Those of us in charge of Stationery started dealing in Laminate Futures. It is believed one of the older members of staff was laminated where they stood…)

We are ready for tomorrow, when our new students arrive. This year’s cycle is about to begin again.

Stay tuned for more on this channel…

Hunting Up-date 2

I suppose this could be termed "Nature red in tooth and paw". Shortly after Mr T. bagged the pigeon yesterday he turned up on our patio with pink on his paws and a distinct smear of blood on his innocent little face.



"Pigeon? What Pigeon??"

If You Go Down to the Woods Today...

We are currently slap bang in the middle of Organic Food Fortnight. As part of the celebration Gillespie Park Nature Reserve played host to a Green Festival. Like at many of these events the majority of the people at the festival appeared to be white, middle-class, muesli-knitting cyclists of the vegetarian persuasion.

There was much Tofu to be had, and most of the sausages on sale were "sausages", the quotation marks holding together a paste of lentils and chickpeas.

My wife and I were prepared for this.

But Not THIS...




Yes. Morris Men. Alive and Whacking Their Sticks Together!

Surely the future of Organic Food in England is Safe in Their Hands...

Hunting up-date

A kerfuffle of magpies and crows in the garden let us know that Tigger was indeed on the hunt.

A squeal of "UUUR, he's got a bird!!!"

from our next door neighbour's daughter confirmed that Mr T. had struck again.

A squab pigeon had obviously ventured too far from home. We are hoping Mr T. finishes it off fairly soon, before the little girl next door revises her opinion about how cute cats are.

Jam Today!

The "season of mists and mellow fruitfulness" is almost upon us. The leaves on our overshadowing lime trees are rustling audibly, making us think it is raining when there is just a gentle breeze.




"Fruitfulness" today is provided by three carrier bags full of Damsons, freshly picked by The Phantom's Phantom-Sister-In-Law from darkest Stoke Newington. Added to the apples plucked from the tree overhanging my mum's garden (Tufnell Park), and we have an afternoon of jam making to enjoy.




The sun is shining, our Communal Cat is hunting in the undergrowth. Time to start preserving for the short days and long nights to come...

Dining on Ithaca

True colours will out, and this blog is slowly veering towards the foodie side of life. I have already written about the restaurant Ta Kalamia. But of all the meals we had in Greece, for me the one that sticks out was the lunch we had on the island of Ithaca.

It wasn’t just the food, which was fine, but the associations, and a pleasant sense of a circle being completed.

Ithaca is the home of Odysseus in Homer’s tale The Odyssey. In fact the whole story is Odysseus’s attempt to get back home to Ithaca, and the problems that present themselves on his journey. It is a theme that has been repeated from Lord of the Rings to Die Hard, via Blade Runner and the Wizard of Oz.

For me, too, dining on Ithaca was completing a circle.

I had an unorthodox education, leaving my rather posh grammar school at the age of thirteen. Although I grew up in the inner city, my first school was almost like a village primary. All the children were local, we all knew each other and lived the same sort of lives. My grammar school was something else. We were the cream. In my primary school year of thirty-five children, only two were selected to go there. (We still had the “Eleven Plus”, an exam we all had to take which determined who would be “academic” and who would sweep the streets). The grammar school was all mortar boards, gowns and House Songs.

“Elysians, Elysians, Elysians are We,

The Red, The Green, The Buff, The Blue,

Sons of the Old Oak Tree”…

They played Cricket and Rugger. They wore blazers and ties that would guarantee victimisation by Comprehensive School children. They could just have printed targets on the back….

Not for me.I started missing lessons. I used the excuse of getting lost on the adjoining Hampstead Heath. After a while I just didn’t go back at all…

Eventually the Education Authority realised I was slipping through the net. I spent a couple of years going to a private tutor. She was a pleasantly eccentric Scotswoman with a cut glass English accent who lived in a genuine cottage in Hampstead Garden Suburb. We got on well. She provoked me. I provoked her. Out of contrariness I became the youngest person to pass English “O Level” in London that year, just to show my old school I could.

At fifteen She suggested I might prefer the atmosphere at Kingsway College. This was a Further Education College in Kings Cross. Leafy Hampstead it wasn’t.

It suited me down to the ground. The whole place was full of misfits. John Lydon (“Johnny Rotten”) and Poly Styrene, both leading punk rockers, pierced their first curled lips at the college.

The place seemed to specialise in the slightly rebellious offspring of famous (and rebellious) writers. I was friendly with the children of Arnold Wesker, Fay Wheldon and Alan Sillitoe.

And this makes the circle. The first class I ever took where I felt alive, treated as an individual, and respected, was at Kingsway. “Greek Myths and Legends”. It was an “Extension” course. In other words it was taught to round-out the student. No exams, no hassle. Each week I would turn up and hear Steve Haskell, the tutor, telling stories. Old stories. For the love of words and language. Steve started with The Odyssey. I was gripped….

Thirty years on. I am working at a Further Education college myself. Some of the students can be a bit difficult, but then I remember what I was like at that age.

And just a few weeks ago, on Odysseus’ Island, I felt I had come home. The circle was complete.

Dining on Ithaca.

Ta Kalamia, Nidri, Lefkas.

We found the restaurant on our first afternoon in Nidri. We noticed a few clues from the outside. This was one of the few restaurants on the main road that had turned its back on the traffic – there were a couple of small tables for watching the world go by but most of the tables were inside. The waiter was wearing a long black apron down to his shoes, reminiscent of a Greek priest’s robes. The specials board was the clincher, fresh fish, prawns with basil, and squid stuffed with herbs and cheese. Real cooking. We decided then and there that we would come back that night.

We were not disappointed. The waiter we had seen earlier welcomed us in. The kitchen was semi-open, and led out into a charming and slightly eccentrically decorated garden area where the tables were. At the far end a wooden building glowed with candles and oil lamps. Bottles of oil, preserved fruits and bunches of herbs were visible inside.

The tables, of varied size and design, were covered with paper. Not the standard plastic-backed thin white stuff, but heavy cartridge paper, stiff like damask, grey, with the restaurant name printed through the middle.

At the end, two chairs like thrones dared you to sit at them.




The waiter, who we came to know as Anders, took our drinks order.


“The Chef will be along to take your food order…”

Alarm bells started to ring. Would we be forgotten? Would our order fall between two stools?

We worried needlessly. Along came the chef, also enrobed. We ordered.

“The squid will take twenty minutes, we make it fresh, then cook on the grill…”

Music to a foodie’s ears.

We made our acquaintance with the local wine, nibbling on bread anointed with a fresh cheese paste.

The squid arrived, side fins gently singed and crunchy, milky soft flesh holding a stuffing of peppers, feta cheese and fresh herbs. They were devine.

Over the next few days we returned frequently. The chef was cooking with a whole range of fresh herbs - basil, dill, mint, and rosemary all featured, all used judiciously but with great effect. One evening we saw an Italian almost cry with joy when he sampled the marinated anchovies, bathed in olive oil with just enough garlic and lemon to raise them to a sublime level.

If you ever find yourself in Nidri, don’t fail to eat at Ta Kalamia. The atmosphere and the food are both a cut above anything else in the resort.

By the way, that shed I mentioned sells the oils and herbs, plus a range of jewelry hand-made by the dusky French lady who helps serve when they are busy. You can shop for souvenirs after you’ve eaten. There’s an indefinable sixties vibe to the place, even down to bean bags by the bar for relaxing in after dinner.

Do stop and sign the visitors book too, good cooking like this needs all the encouragement we can give it….

Greek cuisine – Finding it’s feet at last?

Anyone who has holidayed in Greece over the last decades will be familiar with the sinking feeling that the evening brings. You have showered (solar hot water system permitting), survived walking across tiled floors that are so slippy Torville and Dean would have problems, and have managed to dry your not inconsiderable bulk on a towel the size of a postage stamp.

Changed, and Mozzie-proofed, hopefully sitting on your balcony with a chilled glass of something, you contemplate your evening meal.

Twenty years ago even getting an evening meal often proved problematic; waiters with poor English made every order a challenge, and the concept of starter followed by main course hadn’t quite permeated the eating-out culture. Nowadays we find practically everyone speaks the language, and we have picked up some Greek.

The sinking feeling normally comes when you try and decide where you are going to eat. Try as they might, most Greek restaurants and tavernas in holiday resorts seem to find it difficult to raise themselves out of the mediocre standards of souvlaki (shish kebab) and moussaka, both accompanied by “French” fries or easy-cook rice. Non-Greek alternatives that have caught on are pizzas and pasta. When you are on holiday for 14 nights it does not take long to exhaust this basic repertoire. At this point dining out becomes a chore, rather than a pleasure.

Well, I am pleased to say that we have found a resort, Nidri, on the island of Lefkas, where cooking seems to be improving. Nidri, part of the Ionian group, is a fairly large resort which has still clung on to its soul. It was notable how many Greeks ate out in the restaurants. This probably had the effect of keeping standards higher than they otherwise would be in a tourist resort.

We didn’t have a really bad meal anywhere, and we had some really good ones. One of the joys of being on the Greek islands is eating fresh fish. Unfortunately overfishing has normally meant that fish is an expensive dish. Lefkas has worked around this by the simple expedient of fish-farming. The net result (pardon the pun) is that fresh Grey Mullet and Sea Bream are available widely and very reasonably priced. I see from my food log that I had fish for dinner six times in two weeks. (Yes, I know, a food log is a bit sad, but I was keeping one years before Nigel Slater!).

There was one simply outstanding place to eat in Nidri. Tomorrow I will tell you all about Ta Kalamia.

To tell or not to tell, that is the question…

(Apologies to W.S.)

Well Reader, I married her many years ago, but I don’t recall if I promised to Always Tell Her Everything. I kept quiet.

My decision was based on the following reasoning:

1. The reviews I read may have been biased.

2. If I told my wife SHE would have been biased and viewed the place in a negative manner regardless.

3. We were already booked into the accommodation anyway. At least we were prepared (or I was), and we wouldn’t be able to actually do anything until we got there.

As it turned out, the place wasn’t too bad. It certainly wasn’t as bad as the reviews, but they obviously had some foundation in reality.

I guess there are two morals.

First, prepare for the worst, but hope for the best.

Second, remember that very few people will tell you about a fantastic place to stay, but everyone will tell you what a lousy time they may have had.

We had a brilliant time, and tomorrow I will describe the culinary delights. We have been travelling to Greece for twenty-odd years and we had the best food ever.

A little knowledge...

... Is certainly a worrying thing.

About three days before flying to Greece for our recent holiday I was surfing the net.

I typed in the name of the resort and the apartments we were booked to stay at. I didn't really expect to get any hits at all. I certainly didn't expect to find four. The hits were all reviews from previous "guests" of our apartments. The first one I read was equivocal, the rooms were a "good base" if you spent most of your time on the beach. The rest of the reviews got steadily worse. The words "filthy", "squalid" and "insect-ridden" leapt out. The worst review finished along the lines of "Never,ever,ever stay at the ****** studios."

You can image that my gently growing feeling of anticipation for our departure took a severe knock at this point.

Of course, the worst thing was that only I knew. My wife didn't have a clue...

In case you ever find yourselves in the same position in the future, I will tell you what I did tomorrow.

Would you tell your other half what you read, or would you keep quiet and see what it was like in real life?

Hello, Hello, It's good to be back...

Blimey its cold too. My wife and I have just got back from a fortnight on the green and lovely Greek island of Lefkas.

Of course the current "security" alert had an impact. We were sitting in a taverna when a tourist on the adjacent table read out from a text he had just received;

"23 arrested, blow up planes... nothing in or out of London..."

Knowing we had to fly back to England three days later certainly got us thinking...

We flew into Gatwick on Sunday and the airport was already littered with piles of suitcases. It was quite clear that BAA were losing control of the situation. Anyone could have grabbed any suitcase or pack they fancied. We have only ever packed low-value items in our luggage - in future we will be treating our hold luggage as disposable and packing accordingly!