Who thought pitta breads were a good idea? Somebody who'd clearly never tried to fill one for their husband's lunch box, that's who. On the plus side they are flat, so easy to pack in a small space, but that's about as far as their virtues extend. Trying to cut them open without shredding the edges, then filling them with salad/tuna/ cheese/ whatever without shredding them further is nigh on impossible. I just about managed to get them into a sandwich bag but Lord knows what state they'll be in by the time Andy gets around to eating them at lunch time. I just hope he closes his eyes to the inevitable carnage.
Same as brandy snaps. Do you remember brandy snaps? They were very de rigeur at posh 1970's dinner parties. But try filling one without a piping bag and you might as well give up before you start for all the mess they cause. (Unlike profiteroles, of course). And I always think piping bags are more aggravation than they're worth, with their two modes of operation being zero-squirt-no-matter-how-hard-you-squeeze and explode-filling-all-over-the-place-except-where-you-actually-want-it-to-go.
And I am going to add those individual cheese 'single' slices to my list of bad idea food. Last week we had a barbecue and a request was made for some of these cheese things as a burger is apparently incomplete without one. Well, I've never brought them before, but I duly purchased a pack because I am agreeable like that. Andy was delighted. He used to live on these at one point in his student youth. I was just appalled at the whole concept. For a start, they don't actually contain cheese. Well, if you count 11% as a suitable percentage, then I suppose I must concede they have some kind of cheese content therein. But mostly they are additives and plastic. Wrapped individually in more plastic. I tried one, in the spirit of always trying something you've never tried before before you say you don't like it. It was horrid. It tasted like additives and plastic. No cheese detectable.
My next award goes to the new pots of baked beans you can get from a certain well-known baked bean company. They come in packs of 4. The packs are plastic like the pots you purchase yogurt in. They are very convenient for popping in a microwave for a quick and easy snack. What, quicker than, say, pulling a ring pull off a tin of beans, putting them in a pan and heating them on a hob? Nope...I just don't get it.
And finally, I am sad to say, my last award for bad idea food goes to the Happy Egg Company. I like The Happy Egg Company. They are dedicated to free-range hens for egg production and they also have a very entertaining web site with chickens on motorbikes and stuff. However, I am sad to report they have started selling packets of two hard-boiled eggs for 89 pence, ready peeled for an instant snack. They're reasoning is that these days lots of people don't know how to hard-boil an egg or don't have the time hard-boil an egg themselves.
It was with great sadness I greeted this news. It brought to mind a poem I learned at primary school some 25 years ago which I still remember now. It is called 'Leisure'.
What is this life if, full of care
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
Showing posts with label cheese. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cheese. Show all posts
Friday, 10 July 2009
Sunday, 15 February 2009
Lady Marmalade
No, I'm not prancing around the kitchen, swinging on a pole in a dance to the famous song 'Lady Marmalade.' Although I haven't vacated the kitchen for more than a minute all this morning. I am making marmalade and am watching it like a hawk as it bubbles away on the stove, filling the house with the scent of bitter orange. This is because last year, I had a MARMALADE DISASTER and am determined not to repeat the disaster this year.
I'd never made marmalade or jam of any kind until a couple of years ago. I remember watching my Gran as she made all her own preserves and, in the year we acquired the allotment and started getting heavily involved with all things Hugh F-W, I decided then it was high time to purchase a preserving pan and follow in my gran's footsteps. (My gran also made her own brawn and I would often find a pig's head lying glassy-eyed on the draining board in her outhouse awaiting whatever attention it required to be magicked into something edible - but panic ye not, Andy. I think I'm along way from playing with pig's heads just yet.)
So I got me a preserving pan and other jam accoutrements and had a go at making marmalade. Simple! I couldn't believe it was so easy. It was very well received by the marmalade eating community in the house (i.e Andy) and I thought, I'll make some more next year. So last year I repeated the process, only this time I was blase about the whole process and wandered off at one point to do heaven knows what instead of paying attention to my creation with my wooden spoon. Andy, upstairs in his study, called out in the nicest possible way (remember I was still teaching at this point and had a tendency towards tetchiness) 'Is the marmalade supposed to be smelling like that?' Of course, it wasn't. It was simultaneously burning and welding itself to the bottom of my preserving pan...
...and three weeks later I was still trying to clean the bottom of the pan and didn't even have a blob of marmalade for my toast to ease the annoyance!
So this year I am here, watching it carefully. I have even gone as far as cutting all the oranges up by hand instead of forcing them through my blender. It's been a labour of love, the making of the marmalade this year. The 2 hour simmer is almost done. I am listening to Radio 4's 'The Food Programme' whilst I wait. They are talking about cheese-making and I'm thinking 'Hmmmm, I could give that a go.' Apparently, the trick is in the temperature and humidity. I wouldn't make blue cheese, though. I am very much of the opinion that you shouldn't eat anything that has mould growing in it and tastes like washing up liquid.
And I'm hoping that the rhubarb at the allotment will be plentiful this year. It will be in its third season and will be well-established and plentiful which is good as I want to try a rhubarb and ginger jam. It's starting to appear above the ground. I could sling a bucket over it and force it, but I don't think any fruit or veg should be forced to do anything it doesn't want to before its time. The last thing I want is narky rhubarb.
And now I must go. The jam jars are ready to go in the oven to be sterilised, the sugar is ready to be added to the oranges teaspoon by teaspoon full for the next stage and my juices have reduced by half. The pan needs my full attention. You're on your own now...
I'd never made marmalade or jam of any kind until a couple of years ago. I remember watching my Gran as she made all her own preserves and, in the year we acquired the allotment and started getting heavily involved with all things Hugh F-W, I decided then it was high time to purchase a preserving pan and follow in my gran's footsteps. (My gran also made her own brawn and I would often find a pig's head lying glassy-eyed on the draining board in her outhouse awaiting whatever attention it required to be magicked into something edible - but panic ye not, Andy. I think I'm along way from playing with pig's heads just yet.)
So I got me a preserving pan and other jam accoutrements and had a go at making marmalade. Simple! I couldn't believe it was so easy. It was very well received by the marmalade eating community in the house (i.e Andy) and I thought, I'll make some more next year. So last year I repeated the process, only this time I was blase about the whole process and wandered off at one point to do heaven knows what instead of paying attention to my creation with my wooden spoon. Andy, upstairs in his study, called out in the nicest possible way (remember I was still teaching at this point and had a tendency towards tetchiness) 'Is the marmalade supposed to be smelling like that?' Of course, it wasn't. It was simultaneously burning and welding itself to the bottom of my preserving pan...
...and three weeks later I was still trying to clean the bottom of the pan and didn't even have a blob of marmalade for my toast to ease the annoyance!
So this year I am here, watching it carefully. I have even gone as far as cutting all the oranges up by hand instead of forcing them through my blender. It's been a labour of love, the making of the marmalade this year. The 2 hour simmer is almost done. I am listening to Radio 4's 'The Food Programme' whilst I wait. They are talking about cheese-making and I'm thinking 'Hmmmm, I could give that a go.' Apparently, the trick is in the temperature and humidity. I wouldn't make blue cheese, though. I am very much of the opinion that you shouldn't eat anything that has mould growing in it and tastes like washing up liquid.
And I'm hoping that the rhubarb at the allotment will be plentiful this year. It will be in its third season and will be well-established and plentiful which is good as I want to try a rhubarb and ginger jam. It's starting to appear above the ground. I could sling a bucket over it and force it, but I don't think any fruit or veg should be forced to do anything it doesn't want to before its time. The last thing I want is narky rhubarb.
And now I must go. The jam jars are ready to go in the oven to be sterilised, the sugar is ready to be added to the oranges teaspoon by teaspoon full for the next stage and my juices have reduced by half. The pan needs my full attention. You're on your own now...
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