Tuesday, June 30, 2009

What happened to Farah Fawcett?

Never mind Jacko, the one i'll miss is Farah Fawcett-like Mother Teresa, she was cursed by dying the day before a STAR. Back in the 70's when i was living in the miniature Stalinist world created by my father in the peatbogs of North Kerry, Charlies Angels was my conduit to kick ass sun and glamour. We weren't allowed to watch much of anything that came out of America for fear it would rot our nascent revolutionary brains but for some reason known only to the Great Revolutionary (AKA GR, aka my Dad) , Tom and Jerry, MASH and Charlies Angels were allowed. The FF hair flick was a sight to behold, and despite yearning in my 14 year old soul occasionally to look like Debbie Harry (i had long dark brown hair, freckles, thick glasses, goofy teeth and a general heftiness that went well with the cowstall i milked our cows in by hand every morning before school), i really did feel that, provided i was spirited away from my Appalachian origins, i should, could and would look like Farah. 

Well i left home eventually and ended up personally thwarting the revolution no end by going to work for Andrew Lloyd Weber for years. GR took this in good heart, mainly by having no clue or interest as to what i was up to for decades and indeed, providing i am still alive, compos mentis, interesting and visit him regularly in his country redoubt, doesn't much care now.  Strangely, this suits me very well. It's incredibly relaxing to visit someone whom, when you say I am well, takes it as read. No prying, no worrying, no expectations. Just walking the dog, cooking dinner and handing him a wrench when required. 

Speaking of dinner, like most men of my dad's generation, he doesn't do fancy (you can do it for him but don't expect any kudos). So tonite i'm simply grilling a lamb chop with some finally chopped fresh rosemary and garlic. I bought fresh garlic at the saturday morning market on the Coal Quay on Saturday. It's remarkably succulent and can be used liberally.  Or not, depending on one's incipient love life-it's OK,i don't have any-which leaves me free to scoff the stuff as only a middle aged spinister can-oh that sounded hard-must have a slug of Chardonnay to wash away the bitterness (to get just how bitter that word is you must mutter it in a Kerry accent between clenched teeth and pull your black shawl close around you..)

Christina

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Hurdy Gurdy-oh the pain of unrequited lust!

Hurdy Gurdy (HG), aka the captain of the cruise ship, is missing me dreadfully-sorry, i am missing him dreadfully. (note to self-swap the Zinfandel for lemonade..) Why HG? Anyone old enough to remember the Muppets will remember the Swedish chef who was always fruitlessly chasing de chekans with a meat cleaver. Well, HG's accent was a zillion times stronger. After his initial address every morning in wonderfully mangled but perfect English, he then repeated it in Norwegian, and to be honest, i couldn't understand him then either. Did i care? With those grey eyes and that tattoo?-like hell i did. I even smuggled a photo into my handbag from the photo gallery that he had had taken with some nondescript 5 year old and was intending to ruthlessly take the scissors to it when my sister Louise, who unfortunately knows me better than myself, made me put it back, much to my chagrin. Thank God my siblings have some morals, god knows mine are sadly lacking.  When it comes to fantasising about cruise ship captains, my heinousness knows no bounds...Fine for her, she came home to a gorgeous man and 2 equally gorgeous children-i came home to exploding nectarines, and some furry Gubbeen cheese and salami, which, having been left by the front door for a hot week (don't ask), had developed a somewhat confrontational attitude.

The good news is that, having put on a pound for every day i was away, i am now losing a pound. God but my body works in mysterious ways and perhaps at the ripe old age of 39(ahem) i should just accept it.

2 of my favourite people are leaving the hospital and there is a big bash for them tomorrow nite.The Rubber Band is comprised solely of Cork hospital consultants who, when they're not out there earning gazillions of Euros every month, play the most amazingly brilliant gigs. Criostoir, the lead with an ego the size of the Rockies naturally, comes straight from the operating theatre. Funnily this man looks completely eatable in a suit and is far less noticeable in civvies. Is that the same with all men in uniform? Oh i feel a Carrie moment coming on....

Anyway this is all to say that i am having a proper dinner tonight cos tomorrow's dinner is going to consist mainly of Carlsberg. I adapted this recipe from the the Allen babe who makes my teeth grind involuntarily every time i see her on the telly (what, me, jealous?)

Get a large piece of squash (I use butternut) and peel and chop it into 1" pieces. Chop a few cloves of garlic and an onion.  Fry all of these gently in a large saucepan. Grate a thumb sized piece of ginger and chop a small red or green chilli, seeds and all. Bash about 2 stalks of lemongrass (don't used the stuff in the jar-it's so bad it's not worth it and lemongrass stalks keep for ages in the fridge) and set aside. Open a can of coconut milk. I use the lite version-works the same believe me. Chop a bunch of coriander (cilantro). The most important ingredient is cardomon seeds.  I procured somewhere the seeds themselves a while back and can't for the life of me remember where-which is a pity cos i'm going to run out soon and will have to resort to using the pods. If you have to, throw in about 10-and count them!! (Don't use black cardomon seeds, different baby entirely). They will float to the top and you can ladle them out and remove the seeds easily and crush them in a pestle and mortar (or under a rolling pin) and then throw them back in.

Anyway, your onion and garlic mix is frying away merrily so now add in all the other stuff except the milk and half the coriander. Stir around for about 5 minutes.  this is all on a gentle to moderate heat. At this point you can also add whatever you're having yourself: a finely chopped carrot, courgettes (zucchini), peppers etc. Add the milk and some chicken stock.Ok i hear you say, what am I? a domestic goddess that i'd have this to hand? Chicken stock is easy-if you cook a roast of any kind (tho chicken is best cos it's the blandest) at the weekend, throw whatever bones and gravy is left into a saucepan and add a fair bit of water. Cook up, strain and then put into the fridge. Guaranteed you will find a use for it during the week if you're even halfway into cooking.

Ok so don't cook this soupy thing too long-anything with these kinds of ingredients doesn't need the French casserole treatment. Take out the lemon grass and zap with a purieestab (sorry, only know the German-a hand held blender thingy-that any good?). Don't zap too much. At this stage i throw in fresh spinach just for the sheer hell of it and let the left over heat just about cook it. It freezes brilliantly-which is why i'm eating it this evening-natch!

Christina

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

The Being Home Again Bit-plus some seabream!

I have just read over my last posting-oh how the mighty are fallen! I have a bad case of Ozymandias Syndrome as i write this. I went, i ate, i came home 10 lbs heavier. Oh and i fell in lust with Captain Frank Martinsen whose mangling of English intonation (if not grammar) woke me every morning at 7.30 (or siffena surty as he so winsomely put it). I can't write much now, mainly cos my swollen digits can't manage the tiny keys on the laptop. Did i  say we would rise serenely and breakfast on biodynamic morning dew? Well we did actually-Frank saw to that-the rising bit i mean. The breakfast bit contained more calories than Friar Tuck could shake a stick at. I have managed to put on 10 lbs in 9 days. Curse my genetic inheritance. And equal curse to the Royal Carribbean suits who conceived of the 24 hour buffet for the oink oinks like me. Curse also to our wonderful dining room waiter Sherwin, who smilingly smoothed the carpet to obesity hell every evening at 7 pm. 

I shall tell more anon but for now it's back to IRON rations. This evening it involves a lovely whole seabream i had in the freezer for crises such as these and i am roasting it on a bed of cherry tomatoes with garlic and a chopped red onion. i shall mix it with string beans (which i have just bloody well overcooked through writing this thing-damn!) and then season it with some Maldon seasalt and black pepper and a sprinkle of balsamic vinegar.   I shall then retire to the living room to scoff it cos i have been incredibly hungry since i got back-tho for the life of me i can't think why...

Christina

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Posh with a capital P

What is it about cruises that have traditionally always brought out the anti-bourgeois, anti fuddy-duddy, anti middle-aged American bias in me? Could it be (surprise) that i've never actually been on one? Not that I tend to let lack of experience get in the way of a good prejudice, as anyone who knows me could tell you (but won't-see first post re babysitting and my conditional supply thereof...).  But i am about to change all this and next Sunday shall see me trampling brutally over my siblings and my mother (my own mother!-is there no end to my depravity?) in my efforts to be first up the gangway on the Voyager of the Seas in Barcelona. Mum will be 80 and we are taking her on a cruise. As virgin cruisers of my genetic lineage, we are programmed to milk the 7 days on the Mediterranean for all its worth (Mum isn't-freebie greed in our family passes down generally through the male line).  Free 24 hour buffet? Really? Do they understand that on Day 7, my buffet plate will have to be surgically chiselled from my puffy white hand? Are they prepared for this? (Memo to self, put litre bottle of Gaviscon in suitcase now). 

There are of course many many other treats on the ship-gym, golf course, pools, rock climbing range, archery etc. but these all pale in comparison with the shrine to the Gods that is the 24 hour buffet. We are currently pledging ourselves to rise serenely every morning at no later than 8 am, break our fast on some fruit and then walk the 23 miles round the ship as a healthy start to the day, before ascending with equanimity to the buffet where we shall stroll calmly past the almond croissants and sausages to the museli and yoghurts. We have admonished ourselves in advance and have told each other that lunch is a mere 3 hours away: it's breakfast time, there's no need to be afraid..

On day 2 we are going on a 1,000 metre hike up Vesuvius, then down into Pompeii. I booked this for myself and my 2 sisters in a spirit of gung ho-ness, which will probably last for about the first 300 metres, then i shall have to face their hate filled eyes boring into my aching back for the next 700. There can, of course, be no museli that morning-we shall have to stock up or we could simply fade out of existence in the next 7 hours and shall be mere wraith like presences whom the guide cannot locate before returning to the ship.  He/She would lose their job-they wouldn't be able to pay the mortgage, their children would be left begging in the streets of Manila or Krakow, they'd turn to drugs and prostitution to dull the pain and end up in some flophouse, a needle in one hand and a condom in the other. I simply cannot let this happen. Even if i end up waddling off of that ship and have to book an extra plane seat home for my bum, it will have been worth it-I will have MADE A DIFFERENCE. And surely, isn't that all any of us can ask for in this life?

As i write this, i have some belly pork in the oven. (God i hope my WeightWatchers leader never stumbles across this blog). I have spiked it with about 2 cloves of garlic and stuffed lots of fresh herbs into the cuts. Mr. Bells in the market today finally got in sumac. I've always wanted to try this Lebannese spice mix-it has the wonderful tartness of pomegranite pulp and to be honest, i wasn't quite sure what to do with it today-so i rubbed some on anyway and i'll find out. When the pork is nearly fully cooked, i will sit it on a bed of chopped fennel bulb, peppers, courgettes, shallots,and  more garlic! I might throw in a couple of spuds so i'm not prowling the kitchen in a few hours looking for a carb fix. At the weekend i always cook big meals if i can (tomorrow is roast chicken like pretty much every Sunday) and then plate them up for the beginning of next week. At the risk of sounding smug (oh go ahead girl) it's great to come home on a Monday or Tuesday etc. to good food already on a dinner plate that you just bung in the microwave. I plate it up so it doesn't look like left overs by the way.  Saturday is market day for me. The English Market has convinced me that Cork is a great place to live as a food obsessed single woman with time on her hands and minimal love life. I have my favourite stalls and mix organic with cheapo as i see fit. 

Oh, i can smell the pork-time to do the rest.

So, altogether now: Port Out, Starboard Home, Posh with a capital P....

Christina

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Chicken Casserole

What an unromantic name for what was a gorgeous dinner. One of the great things about being single (i'd count on my fingers to find the others but strangely i find myself mittened) is that you cook what you want ALWAYS. My Always tends to include multiple cloves of garlic (memo to self-please cross reference with being single....).A great recipe for the workin goyl with an oven timer is the following:

chicken thigh and drumstick, skin banished to the bin where it belongs if you want to wear the trousers you wore last year. I rarely use breast cos it's basically chicken cardboard.

2 cloves of garlic, crushed _buy a a microplane grater-expensive but you'll never regret it

about 6 cherry tomatoes, halved, or use 2 normal ones cut in quarters

salt n' pepper-try to use sea salt and freshly ground pepper

3 shallots, cut up roughly or use an onion

lots of fresh herbs plus a half tsp of fennel seeds-use a chopped fennel bulb if available-more about that anon

separate the leg and thigh and put it in Pyrex dish or any ovenproof dish that has an accompanying lid (tinfoil will work too but just not as well-wrap it tightly if using). Add the other ingredients plus a dash of any kind of wine-i usually have a slug left over from my nefarious doings the nite before when i have come to my senses and think that as long as i don't drink the whole bottle, my GP sister won't give out to me...  Add in about 2 oz or about 1/3 cup of rice (I used Arborio this time-great!) Put the lid or tinfoil on. Put in oven and don't do as i do and go to work and forget to set the timer. If you don't know to use the timer-learn!!

About 1 hour cooks this wonderfully. You come home to gorgeous smells and voila, you can watch Dr. Who and feels smug at the same time. What's not to like? This works also with a pork or lamb chop. Adapt your herbs accordingly-mint or rosemary for lamb-sage for pork. 

About fresh herbs: i buy them fresh and then chop them up with a mezzaluna-try to get double bladed but a big knife will do. Then i freeze them in little bags in one big herb bag.  Just ladle them out with a spoon-they retain all the freshness of fresh herbs.Thyme will separate after a while from its stalks so just bung it all in and wait! Rosemary-not so good but will do for a casserole. Basil will only chop with a knife. Roll it into cigars first. Use everything with coriander-stalks and all. the same applies to ginger -peel it and chop it into 1" chunks. Chillies- chop up with mezzaluna!! Use gloves or wash your hands and don't touch your eyes (or balls so a male friend tells me-better not ask...) for ages after. Between the herbs, chillies and ginger, you can make all sorts of stuff and only buy the meat and veggies for it. I also always have a tin of coconut milk in the house, likewise naam pla, chinese rice wine, dark soy sauce and sesame oil.

It's funny to write this knowing that no one's reading it! Who cares? Better that way than i should set myself up as some kind of blog clown. 

On a completely different note, i included the above recipe cos it's really low fat and i am currently a Weight Watcher slave.  Have lost 21 lbs since January and god, i'd really go a round of my Mum's roast spuds right now! Down 4 lbs at WW yesterday-went shopping for holidays clothes as a result. As usual, arms like hams but eventually found 2 tops. Buoyed up by this, i insouciantly entered the 3/4 length trouser nightmare. Emerged 20 minutes as a size 20 having gone in as a size 14. Will i never learn?? As Etta James could well have put it (judging from her photos)-I'd rather go blind, than to see those treetrunks, walkin away with me...

Oh well, bring on the Melba toast-bet Nellie Melba never envisaged herself as a WW flagbearer-weren't those Edwardians toasting this rather rotund soprano for her voice rather than her rotundity?

Christina