Dinner party cheat

I’m naughty. I cheated. Tsk, tsk – I know. But before you go ahead and judge, let me explain.

Last weekend I had a dinner party for a few friends, co-hosted by the lovely AW. The thing is, because it was at AW’s beautiful 2-bed Notting Hill flat and not my rented Holloway abode I was able to:

• Not do much prep work or cleaning
• Simply direct our main course (goulash) virtually since it needed to be prepped the day before
• Rock on up 2 hours prior
• Sneak away late-night leaving poor AW and Studd a cacophony of dirty dishes (I blame this entirely on the heated debate over the Kindle Reader which took us way past midnight)

So yes, I claimed equal parts glory on what was an absolutely lovely evening and meal – but let’s be honest my role really entailed:

• Steaming some green beans and roasting some potatoes (not exactly climbing Everest here)
• Dancing around to some fabulous 80s cheese, funk, and jazz and voting yay or nay for our dinner party play list
• Reducing and doctoring the goulash sauce (not exactly rocket science but of considerable value add since we needed to work with a whole lot of acidity) … brown sugar really is a miracle worker
• And last but not least, making and serving up one of my new favourite desserts…which if you replaced the butter with a non-dairy substitute would even make the recipe vegan (not that I’ve any strong desire to use anything else besides delicious lightly salted French butter)

It was a really fantastic night – filled with great banter and of course lovely food. I’m looking forward to the next AW / DB dinner party. I’m even happy to host in Holloway, as long as we have that amazing playlist!

Fig (lounge) Bars

So this was actually the second batch of these lovely ladies I’d made during a six-day period. The first I’d just done for a bit of fun, convincing myself they were healthy (oats, figs, nuts) and hence didn’t need to feel bad about eating 2 a day for 5 days straight.

Seeing as it was a Saturday night out, I wanted to gussy them up a bit - I figured that if I could wear something that made me sparkle – well so could they.

Unlike earlier in the week when they were just unwrapped from a bit of tinfoil, when serving them for the dinner party I cut them into larger rectangles, heated them back up in the oven ala fig-crumble like, and plated them with some lightly-sweetened whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. That night AZ made a comment to one of her friends about my modesty when it came to my baking, which I actually found quite sweet (and funny). Now, I’m the first to admit when I’ve made something and it just hasn’t turned out quite right – but there was no error in these little gals. I actually do believe there was moaning (of the good variety) around the table upon consumption.

If you can - use real butter and please, swap out those unattractive walnuts for toasted pecans. Other than that, the reheating and whipped cream is entirely up to you.

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Oatmeal-Fig-and-Walnut-Bars-356871

NightmAIR

I couldn’t make this shit up even if I’d just completed a 2-year creative writing course. Now I know the main point of this blog is to share what I'm eating and drinking, but this tale of woe must be told. Even if the food / drink doesn't play centre stage.

This week, Wednesday morning to be exact, I flew on British Airways from Boston to London. Things started out very well – I had a complimentary upgrade, I’d checked my overweight bag in on a belt with a broken scale (“yes sir, I’m sure they are less than 50 pounds each”) and had plenty of snacks (pineapple, a blood orange, yummy cherry oatmeal cookies) to get me through the morning / afternoon flight so as to not be subjected to the dead-awful airplane food (styrofoam eggs aren't really my thing).

Things seemed to be going very well, when just about the time I expected to be told we were approaching London, the pilot came on and told us he had something different in mind. Due to inclement weather (um, about 1 cm of snow) we were being diverted to Newcastle. “Not to worry folks, we’ve already arranged ground transportation for you and after we land we’ll have a 3-hour bus ride down to Heathrow.” So hover over Newcastle we proceed to do until, Cap comes back on…

“Sorry everyone. Conditions have deteriorated in Newcastle. We’re going to Glasgow now.” So hover over Glasgow until Cap comes back on for a third time…

“Um, sorry about this. Looks like a few other planes have thought to do the same thing. Look out the windows; you’ll see lots of planes. Ha-ha, don’t worry objects are farther away than they appear! We’ll, um…will be diverting and landing into Prestwick, on the coast of Scotland.”

I’d like to say that this was the worst of the experience…but BA had more in store for us. When we finally landed and collected our baggage from Prestwick airport (a one terminal dinky airport) we then proceeded to queue for over an hour to get on busses and be shuttled to a hotel 1-hour away. Unfortunately the lucky folks that were at the end of the queue (yours truly) we’re sh*t out of luck. They didn’t have enough busses for all of us. So we proceeded to sit in the freezing airport with no food or drink until about 90 minutes later when they were able to procure one for us. 60 minutes later, at 1:30 am, we were finally at the Marriott.

Happy to finally be checked in, around 2 am I called down for room service. Clearly BA would be covering a bit of food, right? Well no. And seeing as this Marriott only had 4 things on their 24-hour menu (lamb, chicken, shrimp, and veggie curries) I had no desire to spend £20 out of my own pocket. Instead, for what ended up being my lunch and dinner I ate some lemon pound cake. I’d made this (quite scrummy cake) for my mom the night before I'd left. She’d suggested I take some with me and I very nearly declined. How glad was I that I didn’t? Stressed, cold and not very sated, I still managed to fall asleep around 3 am.

The next morning I was woken up at 8 am with a message that the bus would be picking us up in an hour and that we were heading back to Prestwick to board our plane and fly down to London, Yippy!

So arrive at Prestwick we do – me and the other approximately 299 folks from my flight. All checking back in at the same time. As well as two other diverted flights from the US. Remember I said the airport was tiny? It was absolute chaos. After about 45 minutes of waiting in line an announcement was made:

“Sorry everyone, but Terminal 5 at Heathrow has been closed and we will no longer be flying you down to London. We’re arranging coach service which should arrive in a couple hours. The drive will take about ten hours.” Seriously, shoot me.

If mayhem hadn't already been ensuing, it starts now. To add salt to the wound BA tells us we won't be reimbursed for taking trains or renting cars. A 10-hour coach journey is our only option if we want to avoid incurring any fees. Honestly, no wonder BA is going under. What a dumpster company.

However, things then improve (before they get worse again). Another announcement that Terminal 5 is back open – YAHOO! So back into the queue we go. Things run smoothly for about 10 minutes when after a bit of time we all start to notice that we’ve not moved in the line. Why? A check-in / baggage system failure.

Unable to accommodate so many passengers the airport’s check-in system crashes. It’s another 45 minutes before it’s back up and running. Then about 40 minutes of successful check-in…(I’m very nearly there!!!)…. when the airport alarm bells go off. We are then evacuated from the airport due to what turns out to be a burst water pipe. Once resolved, back in the queue we go.

Right so fast forward 45 minutes more, I'm checked in, I'm through security, a rubbish “ham and cheese toastie” has been consumed. I think I’m seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. So be it that we won't depart for London until around 5 p.m., I’m getting home at a decent hour tonight!

Or not. The rest of the evening proceeded something like this:

1. The gate we were meant to disembark from had a frozen / stuck plane. Joy. Rectified after only 1 hour.

2. Disembarking the plane at Heathrow: We needed to be shuttled to the main terminal on busses. Surprise surprise, BA had only arranged one bus for 300+ people which meant that only about 60 odd people could disembark at a time. Then we would have to wait until the bus drove over, dropped people off, and drove back again to the plane. Again, only another hour.

3. Luggage: I waited at the luggage belt for 3 MORE HOURS for my bags. With no word from BA on where they were or what the issue was. A promise of bottled water while we waited to then be told they’d run out. A customer service rep walking around wearing a sweatshirt that said “Can I help?” which when I asked about our bags he proceeded to say, “Um, I don’t know no one has told me anything.” And finally….

4. 5 hours after having landed I met the driver of the car I'd arranged for a pick up only to be told that because he’d been waiting so long my £50 cab was now going to cost me £126.

I can't think of any other time I've been as happy to get home as I was that night.

Essentially Nothing

The past 7 days have been some of the worst since I had Mono (Glandular Fever for you Brits) back in 2005. It’s also the first time I’ve needed to take sick off of work since then too. Told early in the week by the doctor that it was a chest infection I returned with additional symptoms on Thursday to be told that actually it might also be piggy flu. Even though I do have some residual symptoms I can finally see the end of the tunnel – and am finally starting to feel quasi-human again.

Needless to say my food consumption this week has been refined to the glories of water, tea, Lemsip, chicken stock, and a few other really fabulous items like Dioralyte.

So in an effort to find a bit of humour in a really not-so-funny situation...here are my top 4 reasons why it’s good to have the swine flu (I wanted a top 5 but for the life I can’t think of a 5th, so if anyone can shed some light – please do).

Top 4 Reasons it’s good to have swine flu:

1. Instant diet: Can’t think of any other way I would have lost 6 pounds in 6 days
2. Instant Money Saver: Lucky me (not) I had to cancel lots of fun plans – savings estimated at around £120
3. Lying in bed, in misery, staring at the ceiling is actually more exciting than my current project
4. To the inappropriate man who last Saturday thought it was acceptable to pull me off the stage and land one on me without so much as asking. SERVES YOU RIGHT. I called you a pig at the time. How apropros.

Scarily wrong

Don't try this at home.

Contrary to my typical pats on the back (confidence not arrogance mind you) I had a recent humbling experience with some Halloween spook-tastic cupcakes I made. While they did fit the bill ‘theme-wise’ (the spiders were my favourite) they were really unappealing on the palette. I’m not sure if proper etiquette kept friends from saying as much but whereas typically there are fights over the last cakes and even crumbs – many of these sad little monsters got binned in the end. Unfortunate times, I know.

You see, where I went wrong is that I was trying to make fabulous autumnal – inspired cakes (spiced pumpkin with an orange cream cheese frosting) but also hoping to decorate them with brightly coloured sugar and sweets ala Halloween.

What I didn’t realise is that my skills in decorating (ok not the best YET) would actually distract me from actually tasting what I was making. I was so giddy to start decorating the cupcakes that in fact I wasn’t too fussed about what they tasted like – until later when I did.

I think the lesson learned is that for the most part grown-ups (and as much as I try not to put myself in this category, I am) don’t necessarily need their cakes decorated with lots of EXTRA sugar and sweets. That said, with any kids around I still think it’s a fun thing to do. Honestly, I had more fun cutting up those liquorice legs than I have for a while (sad state of affairs, I won’t disagree)! It was just so much fun to PLAY with my food. It’s severely underrated. I think my advice for next time though would to just stick with a basic tried and tested cupcake recipe.

Apple Peeping

No matter the time of year or where you are you can always find a sturdy apple in your local grocery store. Like the stylist who’s been cutting your hair forever, it can sometimes be easy to take her for granted. She’s always been around and you can count on her when you need her to work through the “edgy mullet” you got while vacationing in Spain - so what’s the big whoop-dee-doo right? Not quite. Clearly you need to keep the relationship in line with a bit of repeat contact, TLC, and good tipping. With apples, it’s sort of the same thing. They also need some special love now and again – maybe in the form of a lattice topped cheddar apple pie or stuffed inside a pork loin with ginger and herbs. And really, there’s no better time to do so than in the autumn months.

It’s true - I do enjoy apples year round, but the fact is they do have special moments and they don’t sing any louder than during this ‘leaf peeping’ time of year. Something in the crunch of leaves underfoot must be music to their ears.

Since my favourite varieties, Macoun and McIntosh are not to be found in the UK (a moment of silence whilst I shed a tear please) I’ve been making do with a number of different varieties. My current favourite at the moment I’m embarrassed to admit actually isn’t native to old Blighty either, but the Kiwi imported Jazz. I realise I need to get out more and sample the vast selection of home-grown varieties. Alas, my farmer’s market tours have been a bit sparse of late due to weekend jaunts to the Continent over the past month.

Still, realising 'tis my favourite season for apples, last Sunday had me cooking pancakes with a mapple* compote and toasted pecans. I used my old standby, the Granny Smith, needing their tartness to balance out the sweetness of the maple syrup**.

Buttermilk Pancakes with a Mapple - Pecan Compote (serves 2)

Pancakes:

I used a standard buttermilk pancake recipe, but doctored it as such:

1/2 teaspoon lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup cottage cheese (which if you've read my earlier blog on pancakes you'll remember is the secret ingredient for fluffy pancakes)

Compote:

2 Granny Smith or Braeburn apples (peeled and cut into 1 inch pieces)
1 Tbsp butter
2 Tbsp maple syrup
1 tsp cinnamon
1/3 cup pecans - finely chopped***


1. Melt butter in a small sauce pan over medium heat
2. Add apples, maple syrup, cinnamon - stir until apples are soft and cooked through (about 15 minutes)
3. While the apples are cooking, toast the pecans in a warm oven of 150oC, for about 10 minutes stirring occasionally


* Maple + Apple
** Pure and from New Hampshire (for aficionados of maple syrup this distinction of 'pure' is critical to the entire dish)
***Use a small mini chopper to get the pecans fine, why?
1. It takes up no space on the counter and saves a mess by avoiding you having to pull out and then clean your massive food processer
2. The pancakes and compote need the pecans (I don't know why but they seem to make a world of difference)

Happy Happy Birthdays

You'd think you would reach a point where birthdays just don’t have the same effect as when you were 6 (first of many cabbage patch kids), 13 (lots of 'wet n wild' makeup and a Guns N Roses CD), 21 (21 shots and very nearly a bowling jacket - no comments from those lovely friends who were in attendance please) or even 25 (my first 'first class' flight and a move over to London for Graduate School). The excitement and pizzazz of (ahem) post 30 just shouldn't have the same 'wow' factor. Luckily for me, I refuse to grow up - and my birthdays just keep getting better.

Friday, September 25th saw me ushering 14 of my closest girlfriends over to mine for a "quiet girly night in", complete with too many desserts, pizza from Firezza, lots of bubbles, and the extraordinarily bizarre Leon - Tarot Reader Extraordinaire.

Thinking it might be fun to have a tarot reader as some light entertainment, never in all my years could I have expected what rocked up that night. With a 'do that was hiding a nest of small animals and a lisp, Leon was quite simply pure comedic entertainment.

For some of my friends, the whole tarot concept went over a bit better (e.g. those that were informed of fortunes they'd soon be receiving). Others, like the lovely JW, was told she'd be getting her heart broken not once, but twice - and soon!

I thought I was certainly due a great reading (it was my birthday after all - the stars must be aligned somewhere). However, even with three shufflings of the decks - the most 'insightful' (insert sarcastic tone here) comment I got was his commentary about me "trying to do everything at one" (fair enough - probably true). However, it was poetically worded like this:

"Here, there, everywhere...Dana, you're like a fart in the air."

Yeppers, I was actually called a 'fart' on my birthday. I won't lie, I nearly wet myself laughing.

This comment was only trumped later in the night with Leon offered to hook me up with a possible gig working for Alice Cooper. He had a friend who performed on stage with him - "dancing around like Britney Spears and pretending to decapitate Alice.” She was looking for a replacement - was I interested? I honestly couldn't have scripted this stuff any better.

So, with entertainment a success - so too was the food. The sweets (we'll get to these in a minute folks) were balanced out with delicious thin crust pizza and a homemade salad of French lentils, goat’s cheese, and roasted butternut squash. Drizzled with fig balsamic glaze and truffle oil - it's my new favourite fall salad - a fricken unbelievable combo.

Deserts were a power combo; a Blitz Torte (meringue, vanilla, and pecan cake layers surrounded by fresh whipped cream and strawberries) and Salted Carmel Chocolate Cupcakes.

Clearly I'm on a salted caramel kick (last month making an ice cream version). These cupcakes are my new special occasion favourites though. There's a bit of an effort in making the salted caramel separately and carving out little holes in the baked cupcakes to fill them with it. Although it's an even bigger effort when the first batch you make accidentally doesn't have any sugar in them (I've learned baking and wine drinking do not mix particularly well).

Luckily, this “carving out” process to make room for the salted caramel requires you to throw out 18 mini bites of chocolate cupcake. And clearly, when recipe calls for “throwing out” – they mean, pour some milk (or more wine) and consume.

A bite of ... home

I spent late August and early September in the beautiful New England sunshine. Contrary to last summer the rain was at bay for most of my stay. I had a fill of my favourites – lobster from “the lobster connection,” “fried duck” from the local Thai place next to the high school, cocktails with my two favourite ladies, Dr. B and SU- C, and an assortment of Audrey treats.

On my end I did a little less cooking than normal due to dinner plans out with family and friends. However, I managed to make Audrey's favourite Rhubarb Cake from Yellow Bistro in Sydney, grill some delicious peaches with feta, blood orange vinegar, and candied bacon and a few other miscellaneous treats. Even though those peaches with the feta and candied bacon were legendary, it was the sexy salted caramel ice cream I made, which warrants it's own laud.

Now, realise – I don’t even really like ice cream. If I was captain of the dodge ball team and I had to pick players, cake, blueberry pie, even fruit salad would be first choices. I’ve always liked ice cream in small doses – and as an accoutrement to the star player – but never in the leading role. I know, I’m weird.

The salted caramel ice cream was one of the creamiest ice creams I’ve ever come across and while “salted caramel” may put a few people off, it was nothing less than divine. It wooed. It tempted. It literally begged to be eaten. When the spoon was placed in the mouth the eyes instantaneously closed, breathing slowed down and there were no distractions at all. Just like a “calgon, take me away" moment. Only better.