Make it Yourself Ready Meals

Now, I'll admit that even I have off days where I don't want to fire up the cooker, and look for an easy out. Sometimes, it ends up with me stopping at the garage on the way home, buying a ready meal, and forcing myself to eat some sort of indeterminable gloop. (That being said, I am also quite partial to the old "dine in for two for a tenner" deals, but I think the major pull on that is the savings you can make on the wine!).

What I like to do is make the most of the inclination to cook, when it arrives, and stock my freezer with lots of lovely home made "ready meals". I even bought some very similar plastic cartons with snap on lids to freeze them in, which adds to the appeal. Perhaps I'll try making cardboard wrap around labels too...

Anyway, there is nothing nicer than, when having said off day, you can come in, open the freezer, grab something and throw it into the microwave. My batch cooking favourites (which will have their own features soon) are:

• Beef bourginon
• Chilli con carne
• Lasagne
• Basil and ricotta cannelloni
• Lamb stew
• Chicken and rice soup
• Tomato based curries

I tend to favour whatever you can make without having to do anything more arduous than cooking pasta or rice (potatoes are a step too far when I am in the mood for one of my ready meals). On the evenings when you can't wait to get your shoes off and put your mammies on, the last thing you'll be looking for is haute cuisine, so imagine the food that feels like a hug, and throw it in your freezer.

 

Most things that I tend to freeze can be defrosted in the microwave and then reheated in said microwave. This is the beauty of cooking things completely before you freeze them - it substantially reduces the chance of poisoning yourself. It does mean that some things will get a bit dried out, but there is always a quick two second rescue job that can restore it to its former glory.

 

A little note on cooking for the freezer though, is that you should check out your local food standards agency (or equivalent) for their advice on what is safe to do.

 

If it saves you some hassle but means that you are still getting something better than a box of salt with added sugar, go for it.

 

Steak.

I love a good chunk of meat...

Again, search on the interweb for how to cook steak, and you'll find thousands of methods touting the "perfect steak". 

If you've read my chicken related rant, you'll know that I think the perfect way to cook anything is the way that you like it, not the way someone else does. Point in case - my grandfather wouldn't touch a steak unless you could bounce it five feet off the floor before using it to sole your shoes. Too many people judge, and would say that it is a waste to cook anything like that, but that's how he liked it - why would he cook it any other way?

I'm a rare to medium kind of girl - I like a good bit of pink, with a lovely crusty brown exterior. I don't like spots of blood ruining my sauce. 

Cuts of meat - there are so many cuts of meat for steak, that again, it comes down to personal preference. Some prefer the tender taste of fillet, others the meaty juice of a sirloin. Me? I like a bit of rump. Experiment with whatever is on special offer in your local butchers (or supermarket if, like me, petrol costs mean you've had to downsize on your steak offerings!). 

What to look for - I look for a nice light marbling of fat through the meat (although not too many thick veins of fat running through it). This essentially helps baste the meat from inside while it cooks, and if the marbling is thin enough, the fat will dissolve as the steak cooks so you don't end up chewing on it. Colour will depend on whether you can stretch to well hung meat. This will have a darker colour. If you can, get it - if not, it'll still taste good. 

Prep - take it out the packet, rub a little oil on each side, then sprinkle with salt and pepper. 

Cooking - the make or break moment!

• Get your pan smokin' hot!
• Pop your steaks in - mind out for splashes of hot fat
• Turn, turn and turn - every 15-30 seconds until you get an even colour
• Don't forget to turn your steaks on their side to get some heat into any fat running along the edge

How long to cook?

There are so many factors when you've got steak in the pan, that it's all about looking and touching. You're cooking for yourself, so there is nothing to stop you taking the steak out the pan and cutting into it to see how far cooked it is. 

Stop cooking it just before it's at the point you want it, because like any man after a hot time, it needs to rest. Stick it on a plate with foil over it. The residual heat inside the meat means it will continue to cook for a short while, which is why we want to take it out the pan just before it's ready. Resting lets the moisture inside the steak absorb back into the meat, and allows the fibres to relax, so that when you cut into it on your plate, it doesn't leak everywhere.

After five to ten minutes (depending on how late you're running with everything else, or how much wine you've drunk), it's ready to go! 

Remember, however you like it is perfect.

Rosti Rosti!

Beautiful, lovely, buttery, crispy potato goodness. Potato rosti has long been a favourite of mine. Eaten in fancy restaurants in a towering stack of tastiness, or as a wholesome meal when holidaying in mountainous terrain, the crisp crunch of potato cakes makes me salivate every time. So they are on this evening's dinner menu.

Originating from Switzerland, it was a breakfast commonly eaten by farmers in the canton of Bern (thank you Wikipedia).

It is essentially a potato pancake, but a quick search on the interweb proves to me what I've suspected all along. The Swiss are very secretive about their recipe.

Googling for rosti recipes will have your mind boggling - there are so many variations, and so many different cooking techniques that I started to doubt they were all for the same thing.

I guess how you cook your rosti depends on the vision you have in your head for the end result. For me, it is a potato cake about the diameter of a mug, a few centimetres tall, with crisp and well defined potato strands on the top. For others, it may be a slice of a large and thin potato pancake, but I find that the soft middle in mine is perfect for mopping up excess sauce. 

So, whatever way you plan to make it, the basic ingredients are the same:

(for two hungry people)

• 2 potatoes - around the size of baking potatoes. I've tried both waxy and floury and couldn't tell the difference, so use whatever is in my vegetable drawer. I'm not one for buying specific items to just cook my dinner.
• 1 small white onion - this is a disputed item, but I like the oniony bite it gives to the finished cake.
• Butter x lots - all down to personal preference, but I use lots of salted butter.

My Method:

• Peel the potatoes and onions
• Put your oven onto around 180 degrees C, or gas mark 7 if your oven is as unpredictable as mine!
• Grate the potatoes and onions - I use the grater attachment on my food processor but before I had one of those nifty gadgets, I used a cheese grater - just mind your knuckles!
• Wrap the grated potato and onion in a clean tea towel and gather up the ends, creating a tight ball.
• Head outside and swing the tea towel around until no more water comes out your potatoes (excellent workout for the bingo wings, but you can end up soaking your feet)
• Form your potato and onion mixture into cakes and press down well. I use metal chef's rings, but anything will work - cookie cutters, whatever. Metal ones are better because you can use them in your pan with direct heat. This is the point to decide how thick you want your cakes.
• Heat a heavy bottomed (all my pans are just like me) frying pan over a medium heat with half a tablespoon of olive oil and as much butter as you dare.
• Slide a fish slice under your ring (fnar fnar) and transfer it into the pan. Repeat with the other one.
• At this point, how long you need to cook it before flipping depends on how thick the base of your pan is and how hot you have it. You are looking for a light golden colour on individual strands of potato like in the photo above. For me, it's normally around five minutes.
• Flip your rings (haha!) - be careful! I use lots of butter, and every time I do this, I end up spattering myself with hot butter and oil. 
• Push your potato down inside the ring to ensure that the uncooked side is in contact with the pan. Add another chunk of butter into the pan. Cook for however long you cooked the first side. 
• Take the pan off the heat, and don't panic - you're not going to get raw potato!
• Oil a baking tray with a little olive oil and carefully move your rings onto it
• Remove the rings - the potato should hold its shape well.
• Put a knob of butter on top of each one, and wang it in the oven for fifteen to twenty minutes.

My favourite thing about this is that if you're running late with the rest of your dish, as often happens in my household, you can turn the oven off and leave them in there. I've left them in for a further twenty minutes with the oven off without them losing their crisp outer shell. 

 

What you should end up with, is a lovely crisp top and bottom, and an inside that is almost like buttery mashed potatoes. Except tonight, when I was too busy taking the above photo and burnt the arse on mine! Still tasty as hell though.

Dauphinoise without cream - Heretic I hear you scream!

Can you imagine my consternation when my other half announces that due to an upset stomach, he doesn't want anything rich for dinner? What a wanker. I was utterly disgusted. The best people eat through and sacrifice their tummy ache for taste. However, we still had to eat, and my mouth was watering for the beautiful layered potatoes and onions of dauphinoise. Adaptations had to be (grudgingly) made. I have eaten boulangere potatoes once before, but found them unsatisfying, probably due to the lack of heart stopping cream and butter.

I decided to give them a go for the sake of my relationship. After looking at several recipes and getting thoroughly confused, I thought "bugger it", just stick them in and we'll deal with the consequences later.

Ingredients:

• Potatoes (waxy preferred apparently, but I used what was in my vegetable drawer - don't have a clue regarding the type)
• Onions
• Chicken stock - whatever you have
• Milk
• Butter
• Parmesan cheese (any kind of hard cheese would work - I wasn't sacrificing all my calories for his tummy upset)
• White wine

I made this for two, so only used 2 potatoes (both around the size of a baking potato) and three quarters of an onion, but it depends on how deep your dish is because we'll be layering.

Method:

• Slice your onion as thin as you can get it - you can use a mandolin if you like, but I balanced out the time taken to slice the onion versus the time taken to wash the mandolin and added risk of losing a fingertip and decided to go with the knife
• Slice your potatoes - about as thick as a one pound coin. If you don't know how thick that is, visit the UK and take one home with you
• Butter your dish (liberally)
• Start with a layer of onions, then overlap the potatoes in a layer of potatoes
• Season with salt and pepper
• Repeat until you have no potato left, or your dish is full
• Add a splash of milk to your chicken stock (I used about half a pint of chicken stock and enough milk to make a cup of coffee)
• Pour the milk and stock mix over your layers until it is lapping at the underside of your potatoes like a cheap whore in a vegetable porno
• Grate your cheese of choice over the top and cover with foil
• Pop it into the oven. Cooking times will vary according to your oven. My oven is about as reliable as a cheesegrated umbrella in a downpour. I cooked it for 1 hr 30 mins on gas mark 6
• Drink the wine
• Remove the foil and put your oven temperature up as high as it will go - you are looking for the cheese to melt and bubble, and the potatoes on the top layer to start to crisp around the edges. How long will depend on your choice of cheese and potatoes, so keep an eye on it

End Result:

The potatoes should have absorbed most of the liquid, be crisp on the top, lovely and soft underneath, and look like a dauphinoise without the cream.

I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised. My other half, the cause of such a hideous experiment, decided he likes them better than dauphinoise. Which means now I need to make awesome dauphinoise as I can't be giving them up. Still, like an inheritance windfall from an elderly relative, as lovely as they were, it was a bittersweet discovery. 

Who Put The Bisto in The Fridge?

Recently, I went to visit my grandparents. I arrived in the middle of a discussion about getting old, which had started with an argument revolving around who had been responsible for putting the Bisto in the fridge. True to form, neither would admit guilt. However, both admitted having Bisto in the house.

I'll also admit to having Bisto in my cupboards - but only the traditional browning powder, because sometimes I'm too lazy to make a roux. Most of the time however, I do make a proper gravy, because it involves the same amount of effort as using Bisto. I never, ever use gravy granules. I had a recent incident where, during a moment of madness, I bought Oxo "Roast Onion" gravy granules. Made up with the packet instructions, what I ended up with was a dark brown (but quite glossy) solution that was as thick as wallpaper paste and tasted of nothing but salt. In the end, I decided to sacrifice the crispness of my toad in the hole and get some onions on, because I couldn't bring myself to pour that shit over real food.

So, following on from my roast chicken rant, here is how I fudge my way through making gravy. (But not baby gravy, because I lack testicles).

Required:

• One roasting pan including all the bits stuck to the bottom, and the fat that has dripped out of the meat (meat removed)
• Plain flour
• Wine (white for poultry, red for beef and lamb, cider for pork - yes, I know, but it's really just fizzy apple wine)
• Stock - beef for beef, chicken for chicken, lamb or beef for lamb, ham or chicken for pork. Fresh, cubes, those jelly pots, home made, shop bought, whatever you fancy/have to hand
• A little bit of whatever you've used to flavour your roast (i.e. lemon and thyme for chicken, horseradish and mustard for beef, sage and apple for pork, redcurrant and mint for lamb)

Makin' Gravy:

• Check out how much fat you have in your pan - if it's excessive, take some out, but for most roasts, you won't need to spend much time (if any), removing fat
• Put your tin over direct heat on the hob, and get it going
• Sprinkle over the plain flour. How much you will need will depend on how much fat is in your tin. When you start to whisk the flour in, you will see it combine with the fat to make a "roux", which is essentially just a floury paste used to thicken the gravy
• Cook the roux for a few minutes so your gravy doesn't taste like raw flour
• Once you've got a smooth paste, add your alcohol (around a glass)
• Keep whisking to combine it with the roux - it will thicken quite a bit
• Bubble this for a few minutes to evaporate the alcohol
• Add your stock and whisk in
• Bubble some more!
• The longer you bubble, the more your gravy will thicken - this is your preference. I like mine thick enough to coat the meat but not so thick I can't drink it off my plate once everything else is done!
• Now add your flavours for a few minutes, and strain

A few tips and things to watch out for:

• If you don't have any liquid left in your roasting pan, start by adding the alcohol and once that's gone in, use a wooden spoon to scrape off all the tasty bits off the bottom. Once you're happy that you've got it all, add the flour
• If you don't have enough fat in the pan, melt in some butter (although you should have, or you'll have very dry meat.)
• Don't get concerned if you have put too much flour in and have lumps - you're going to strain it, so why get stressed?

 If you're using Bisto, do the same, but omit the flour stage. Once your chosen alcohol has boiled off, mix the Bisto with cold water in a mug (don't know why a mug is essential, but it's what everyone uses to mix their Bisto) before adding to the pan. Same principle applies - bubble and stir until you get it as thick as you want.

But for Christ's sake, don't use gravy granules. Trust me, it's not worth it.

What's All The Fuss About Roast Chicken?!

So this afternoon, I was bored and decided to cook a roast chicken for dinner. I have my own foolproof recipe for roasting chicken, but being a food geek, decided to Google for other ideas.

What I came across was an outstanding collection of different ideas and irrepressible food snobbery!

However, not one recipe or forum post that claimed to have unlocked the holy grail of roast chicken remembered to mention that when it comes to taste, there's a lot to be said about personal preference. My other half, for example, doesn't eat chicken skin so couldn't give a rat's ass about the best way to start the Maillard reaction (to be covered at a later date), he just wants succulent breast meat (ooh err missus!). I however, true to name, love a bit of crispy skin and believe a good gravy hides the sins of many a dry meat. C'mon people - cooking is for fun, is for family, is for friends. It's not for becoming a massive stress head if things don't turn out perfectly.

When it comes to roast chicken, I do lots of different things. I try to achieve crispy skin and a moist interior (insert dirty laugh here). I'll approach each section separately to provide you with your own arsenal. The most important thing to remember when you are trying to achieve your perfect roast chicken, is that it is your perfect roast chicken, and the way you like it best is the best way for you. Don't let anyone else on the interweb tell you otherwise!

Right, to the breast of the matter (fnar fnar).

The Chicken:

It must be free-range, corn-fed, wild-roaming, have been given weekly acupuncture for stress relief, have had a name, lived in a 4 bedroom detached house close enough to greenbelt to have not been affected by pollution and be a breed older than 600 million years. Oh, and not forgetting that it must have been bought at your local village butchers. If you don't live in a village, you're not entitled to roast dinners.

My arse. While animal welfare is extremely important to me, and the thought of battery chickens really "grinds my gears", you should buy whatever kind of chicken you can afford. Today, for me it was a chicken from my local Co-Op (and only because the trip to Aldi would have cost more in petrol than what I saved in price). It cost me four quid, and will feed two of us for two meals, with the bones for stock. If you can afford to buy Dotty, who has been hand reared by a specially trained chicken whisperer, go for it, but if you can't, it won't wreck your dinner.

Prepare your chicken!

• Take off the packaging and bin (the packaging, not the chicken)
• To wash or not to wash - it's entirely up to you. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't.
• Pat dry with paper towels
• Wash hands and all surfaces touched by raw chicken (the only acceptable cause of vomiting is a hangover).

Moist Meat:

There are several different methods I use, all of which are determined solely by how much effort I can be bothered to go to. These all have a fairly similar level of success individually, but don't seem to stack up to IMMENSE chicken if you combine them. (They do stack up to immense cholesterol levels if you stack them up though, so be warned!) .

All of these methods start with a vegetable trivet (posh name for a layer of vegetables like carrots and onions spread around the bottom of the roasting pan which prevents the meat sticking to the base and also lets heat circulate more freely through the underneath of the bird).

• Lemon up the bum - either halved and shoved in, or microwaved for 30 seconds, then pricked and shoved in (this is the arse cavity, not the neck)
• Bacon - crossed over the breasts and one piece cut in half over each leg, removed for the last half hour of cooking
• Stock (or wine, depending on finances and whether stress levels are low enough to prevent imbibing) - pour about a centimetre of stock/white wine into the bottom of the pan which creates steam as you roast. Stock cubes, stock pots, fresh stock, whatever you have to hand. There's no judgement here.
• Buttered breasts - use your finger or the back of a spoon to separate the skin from the breast meat. Start at the cavity and lift the skin, pushing a finger underneath. You'll feel it yield but not rip. Work your finger in as far as you can, waggling it from side to side to separate as much as you can. You'll have to do each breast independently. Push some softened butter into the gap you have created and push it around. This bastes the breast meat from inside while the chicken cooks
• Butter - again, more butter. Rub butter all over the chicken skin, including the nooks and crannies where the thighs and wings are attached
• Resting - always, without fail, leave any meat for a minimum of ten minutes before carving to let the juices absorb back into the meat. Cover it with foil and it will stay warm. 

I've never been bothered to roast a chicken breast side down for moistness, because I can never be arsed to turn it back halfway through cooking. Bit too fiddly for me. Which is also why I've never bothered with brining. Many swear by it, but planning more than 3 hours in advance is a no go area for me.

Crispy Skin:

The highlight for many is the papery thin, golden and crisp skin of a roast chicken. I've seen methods that include using a blowtorch at the end of cooking to achieve this, but if you're going to go to that extreme, you might as well get out a soldering iron and use it to brand your name onto the flesh.

• Salt - before you touch the chicken with anything else, salt the skin and leave it for a few minutes. This draws out moisture in the skin which is what prevents it getting crispy
• Butter - more butter (can you see a recurring theme here?). Again, rubbed all over will provide a golden hue
• High heat - whether it is at the start or the end of your cooking process, you need that heat to get the skin crisp. Think of it like a sun tan - you're not going to get one of those in Inverness. 
• Olive oil - if butter is not your thing, give your bird a liberal sprinkling of oil
• More salt - once you've buttered or oiled her up, salt again.

Flavour:

If you're going to use Dotty (mentioned above), you might prefer to let the flavour of the chicken shine through and not adulterate it with anything else. For me though, it is thyme, garlic and lemon. Lots of flavours work with chicken, and you can pick anything you like. Just remember that whatever you use to flavour your chicken will also flavour your gravy. Herbs, citrus fruit, spices - if you like it, put it on (or in!).

• In the cavity - add it to the cavity of the chicken and it will flavour the meat from the inside as it cooks. Onions, lemons, oranges, limes, thyme, rosemary, sage, basil and garlic all work well. Just wang it in
• Under the skin - if you're using the butter under the skin technique mentioned above, add your flavourings to it before pushing it in
• In the roasting tin - carrots, onions, garlic - whatever you want your gravy to taste like, put it in the tin 

Cooking Times:

A high heat will create a crispy skin. A low heat will create moist meat. What on earth are we to do? Decide what you prefer and go with that. My gas oven is about as predictable as Anglian Water's drought warning system, so I've become used to it's quirks. No fan assist for me, I tend to go for the combination technique and start off at max for fifteen minutes, turn it down to around gas mark 6, then back up for the last fifteen minutes. When it comes to cooking times, go with what's on the pack (shock horror!). If you've bought Dotty, go with 20 minutes per 450g, plus another 10-20 minutes.

Get used to what cooked chicken looks and feels like - use a skewer to pierce the thigh and push against it. The juices which come running out should be clear, any hint of red and chuck it back in for another ten minutes.

Finishing Touches:

As I mentioned earlier, rest your bird for a minimum of ten minutes before carving. When it comes to carving, I always make an arse up of it. If you want to have perfect slices, give YouTube a go, but by the point I'm ready to carve, I just want to eat it, rather than be on YouTube. 

Enjoy it. It's your chicken. You've cooked it. You've put the effort (although sometimes minimal) in. It's designed to be enjoyed, not to be stressed over. Use whatever combination takes your fancy. Sometimes it will be perfect, sometimes it won't, but you'll always be proud of the end result.