On the crumpet theme

T.B conjured this up in a matter of minutes - following Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall's advice in the newspaper. 'Hugely satisfying to make', he said. It certainly was to eat, all the better I think not to have the option of 'crumpet rings' and therefore simply creating one giant one. Not being able to fit this in the toaster for obvious reasons, it had a little extra time to brown in the pan, before being buttered and spread with syrup. Seriously, what more could you want in an afternoon snack.

Feeling Christmassy

Quick vs. slow

Two ten pound dinners: one bought and made in a bit of a rush, the other at a more leisurely pace.

1. Creamy mackerel pasta

Smoked mackerel fillets, mushrooms and a few leeks were the only ingredients we bought. Cream and grainy mustard we happened to have.

Mash up mackerel in a bowl with a few tablespoons of cream and however much mustard you like. You can always add more later. Leave that while you cook up some mushrooms and leeks (together or separately) and put pasta on to boil. We had

spaghetti but something smaller could be good. When everything is ready, stir the fish in to the hot pasta and add more cream to coat if needs be. Finally add vegetables. Tasty.

2. Cecily's baked pork chops

This is actually going to seem as though all we eat are creamy mustardy meals, but these were about a week apart. C picked up some pork and baked for a while with cream, mustard, thyme, possibly a bit of lemon. We ate it with kale, curly kale, and a new discovery: millet. It is shaped like couscous but with the texture of porridge. Also tasty.

The Full English Process

Apologies to T.B for my disappointing review of last week's events. I dedicate this post to you and your deep pan.

Now seems an appropriate time to discuss said disappointed flat-mate's regular lunch creation: the bacon sandwich, as I have been meaning to for some time.

These photos were taken by T on my camera without my knowledge so added extra incentive for me to document this highly important process. The mushrooms: where it all begins.

A good 20 minutes are spent slicing a large bagful of them, to approximately a 4-5 mm width. An impressive pile now stands on the side waiting for oil to be heated in the pan before they can be laid in the pan (I think it's always the same handleless one - pictured). After the mushrooms have had about 3 minutes exuding their waters the bacon comes out.

I should note that this documentation seems to have been set as an unspoken challenge - as it's something I see on maybe a twice-weekly basis, I should be able to fluently recount the details. I have to admit I am beginning to doubt myself over the crucial question of bacon: smoked or unsmoked?

I'm going to have to say smoked and will suffer the consequences if T reads this and I am wrong. Anyway, the fact that I am even feeling anxiety over this choice illustrates how seriously this process is to be taken.

Back to the pan - three or four slices of bacon are laid on top of the mushrooms and left there in order that - I can quote - "the mushrooms can absorb the salty juices". This seems to be the key part of the method, and the bacon never touches the pan until the end. I know for sure it's not streaky as every time I witness the procedure I postulate how much better it would be with the crispier, fattier variety...I am frowned upon. This is not something to quibble.

When this is nearly done, toast is made and buttered, ready for the sandwich assembly on a plate. Sometimes - only sometimes - an egg might be cracked onto the pile at the last minute as a bonus. The contents of the pan are scooped onto bread and eaten with a knife and fork (surely from the amount of mushrooms this could never be a sandwich).

I think after having spent this time being amused over someone's breakfast making process I really should try the creation. Hopefully I will soon and can give a verdict, maybe even a mark out of ten.

Winter fashion inspiration

I know it's my lunch but I'd quite like to wear these colours

A week's review

A home-cooked Japanese supper and some excellent budget meals...miso aubergines definitely my favourite but look how good the soup looks! It tasted as warm and comforting as the picture.

We weren't mean enough to insist upon a £10 budget on C's birthday, so the added indulgence probably provided the highlight of the week. A fish pie (or two) made by T.M and melting flourless brownies made by J felt like good celebratory food, especially as the weather has got colder. We were hopeful that no endangered fish were used during the process.

However, T.G - as of this week a new addition to our cooking rota, competing with some hefty pies and and soups knocked up some Fajitas (spicy chicken, peppers, onion, sour cream). My documentation of this week has really been lousy, due to some long essays and a temporary internet failure.

A disappointing incident with a mince pie

Engrossed in piano playing too long = a charred pie and sad face

The girl who couldn't make scrambled eggs

One of my confidantes of this blog is C.N - someone who finds my constant ridiculous excitement about food hilarious but who is willing to take culinary advice because until she recently could not scramble eggs. I'd like to think I may have some part in inspiration, but I think unfortunately it might have more to do with her discovery of the Channel 4 food website . Now look! I've been getting more and more notifications of her increased foodie-ness.

Smoked salmon linguini in a text.

I am now about to go to her house for a Japanese meal prepared by her mother. I'll take my camera.

new challenge

I have decided to document, amongst other things, the cooking rota we have established in the flat I live in. How well, how much, how cheaply can we eat?

Six (sometimes seven) people

One person cooking each night

£10 per person, per week. Which means almost £10 per 6-7 person meal.

This has been going for a few weeks and is proving to be a success. Sometimes all the stops are pulled out (T slaving over a gammon roast for hours and hours), meticulous forward planning has resulted in feasts for not one night but a following lunch (C's risotto with home made chicken stock) and sometimes we have enjoyed the most homely of dinners which taste exactly as they should (M's perfect carbonara pasta).

So far we have established that: we will always underestimate the time it will take to cook potatoes in our gas oven without parboiling. £10 is rarely enough to cook a main and a dessert but when it is it's very good. More to come. I should start thinking about this week's dish.

I wonder what percentage of people who read last week's guardian weekend magazine actually got around to making Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's marshamallow recipe.

We did! I was curious to see how easy it would be to do this as an E-number free alternative to buying a packet from Sainsbury's (which we did anyway in case ours failed). We couldn't find powdered gelatine anywhere so decided to give it a go with leaves - and realised there was a reason for specifying powdered. They were more jelly-like than any marshmallows I'd eaten but it really just meant that they melted quicker into a slurpy sticky mess when we cooked them (over candles). No bad thing. A successful bonfire night experiment. The fireworks were good too.

How to do Halloween

The papers were full of step by step guides and tips for what to do on Halloween. I would have thought all you really needed to do was this:

1)carve a pumpkin

2) Get excited and put candles all around the house while your flatmate starts cooking with the pumpkin. Compile a Halloween music playlist.

3)Get more excited as all other flatmates arrive home and you can surprise them with newly decorated flat

4)Sit down to eat a tasty pumpkin noodle 'laksa' soup at candlelit dinner table accompanied by Halloween playlist.

5)Watch John Carpenter 's Halloween in bed with willing flatmate.

A gift of meat

My younger sister came to stay and brought gifts from home - not conventional, I suppose but a slab of raw beef on the rib and a half-metre chorizo sausage. My butchering mentor J had apparently instructed her to deliver this against all odds.

I was very grateful, and so was my sister as she looks here with her plateful of perfectly pink goodness. We finished up a good (Ottolenghi inspired) lentils and rice dish and made a spinach salad. An iron-overload if ever I saw one.

Microwave Cooking made easy

This is a picture of the Battenberg Cake M made in the microwave. Yes! In the microwave. It's from a recipe out of a microwave cooking book that I guess was published right when microwaves were becoming cool things to have around the house. For something which was supposed to make cooking easier, a majority of the recipes are more intricate than any ones I've seen which don't use a microwave. The idea is to use something you would normally use to do basic heating up to make those most complicated meals: things like courgette mousse, potted shrimp and Battenberg Cake. It was a ridiculous amount of effort to make (it seemed) but you know what, it was good. I don't think I'd go so far as to eat microwaved moules mariniere which was threatened to be the next experiment. We'll see. I'm not going to judge till I've tried it. Who needs pots and pans?

Pie

A spicy lamb pie for Tal, Theo and Cecily

Keeping the dinner party alive

Is the dinner party dead? So the guardian asks. I would argue definitely no. But then I love and appreciate food, so why would I not be all for an occasion based around it? A dinner party should be great, whether the food has been slaved over or put together in the kitchen last-minute. I can't not praise it after having gone out to eat at someone's house last night for a pretty perfect interpretation on the theme. E who was our hostess seemed to have a bit of a thing for Japanese food, I think after travelling in Japan. Two platefuls of dumplings were brought out followed by those really thin noodles in a sauce with lots of veg. There was nothing overwhelming about it, and as guests there was no awkward obligation to help with anything as we ate in the living room. About an hour later out came a warm banana bread. I should have appreciated this meal more last night. Sadly no pictures.

My flatmates and I are trying to see if a sort of cooking rota would work, so we will be able to eat together in the evenings and share the cost. There are 6 of us taking part, so we 're basically having a dinner party every night, minus any formal small-talk or wondering when to leave.

Personal feasts

Something bloody to keep iron levels up on a night out - something fresh for the day after.

I walked to the butcher for some pork belly and a steak. The pork belly I'd share, but the steak I wouldn't. When I left home, I decided I'd have to allow myself to splash out on the luxury of some good rare meat on a monthly basis. Perhaps psychosomatically, I feel like my body craves red meat if I have been lacking it. I was born in the wrong era - should be living in a cave wearing sheepskin and waiting for my husband to bring me raw meat. Well, I got my steak this week, and ate it pink as could be - obviously - all mixed up with mustardy new potatoes and salad, feeling slightly silly as everyone around me ate...something else.

And secondly, a new find in my excellent local Chinese fishmonger. I chose mackerel because it is cheap but also because I really like it. There are a few ways of cooking it I've been meaning to try, one being this oat-rolled version by Valentine Warner. I ate it wish the rest of my baby gem and finished off the Dijon mustard. This was probably the best thing to eat with a headache watching a grim BBC drama.

Baking for birthdays

12

Two birthdays this week. For the first, R came over to secretly use our oven so D would not see her surprise cakes. Her bag was full of ingredients and a cookbook by a seemingly sloaney-yummy-mummy-turned-gluten-free-baker called something like Chocolate heartache. This is a book which I would never think to buy or even look at in a shop but in fact is based on an interesting principle that cake baking can be done using vegetables in place of butter. Different vegetables work in different ways, some with more water than others - this woman has experimented to find the perfect combinations. It sounds a bit faddy, but makes for quite fun revelations and it meant I used courgette twice in a week for a cake. This time the recipe was 'LA cupcake - virtually fat free and jogging down the beach' (that is exactly the general vibe of the book - each cake gets its own personality..) It was also the first time I'd used rice flour to bake, and surprisingly the cakes were pretty yummy - and green.

We thought that M turning 21 merited a feast of some sort, and following our friends' 3-week long tradition of alternately home-cooked Sunday brunches, I cooked a Mexican breakfast with huevos rancheros, cornbread and guacamole. That was great but I preferred to eat more of C's profiteroles - so light creamy and chocolatey you would never have known they were half-made secretly on her bedroom floor.

We'll need another hidden kitchen space for covert birthday baking operations. ....

I have betrayed one of my favourite coffee shops for another, which is closer to where i am now living. Of course it's lucky that this one is situated to be most of the time on my way out or on my way home, but if there was one I prefered I would make the extra walk. There is no need though as this has become my new favourite. The overall experience is just of a higher quality - the coffee excellent (admittedly I've only sampled their flat white, and their longer coffees look like they're in cups just a bit too big), the space is great because you get to see the bakery (sourdough bread worth buying) and the Swedish china is beautiful. Peter's Yard is near enough to the library that I can take books out for a few hours and have a coffee rather than sitting in a low-lit study pod.

Another nice detour home involved browsing the shelves of my nearest Chinese supermarket. It's funny how suddenly foreignness in terms of packaging makes food so appealling. Little squares of dried noodle dinners look like so much fun! It made me want to be a kind of kooky oriental enthusiast who eats with chop sticks all the time. Then I remembered all of these mini meals have about 50g of MSG in them, so I forgot about all the exciting colours and looked for something else. Then i found plain MSG in a packet.

I asked the woman behind the desk if they sold any tea - had been craving something light and green but wasn't holding out much hope that I'd find anything better than from my favourite Postcard Teas. She pointed me in the right direction, and I am happy to say I walked out with two of my favourite kinds. 'Special Gunpowder' Green Tea comes in a fantastic cube box with a white paper bag inside. In chinese it's called zhu cha which means bead or pearl tea. I've just learned that the English name for it possibly comes from the Mandarin term for 'freshly brewed', gang pao de (sounds familiar..?) That made me laugh..but unfortunately I think the real etymology is the more boring explanation of the rolled up tea leaves looking a bit like gunpowder pellets. My other purchase was some Genmaicha, a Japanese tea with roasted brown rice.

Now I can enjoy my new teapot, one of the best presents I've received lately. I took this picture spontaneously in my appreciation for my tea situation. Please excuse the ridiculous juxtaposition of this and the beginnings of my crocheted grocery bag (!) and some radical feminist article I had to read for my art history course...

The cows and the bees

Took a detour on my way home yesterday initially with the intention to buy some linen for a grocery bag. Came back with that plus a couple of extra treats. A perfect me-sized slice of Appleby's Cheshire to go with the last of the apples in our bucket, and a small jar of Blossom Honey. I was assured by the cheese-man that this honey was so good he would lick it off a pavement. Also that on Friday they'll be selling apples in the shop, which he seemed apathetic to. He works in a cheese shop and he didn't know it was apple season! Clearly missing out on one of the best ever combinations.

And again, the g2 almost annoyingly matching my life - this time with Hugh Fearnly-Whittingstall giving lunchbox tips. I feel ahead of the game here, having just adopted a bit of a lust for packed lunch perfection. I sat reading the newspaper with my thermos full of squash and cabbage soup/stew, an apple, half a slice of courgette cake and a ginger biscuit.

There is something so exciting about eating a mini picnic that you have prepared, wrapped and boxed in advance. It makes me feel even better about not spending money to buy lunch that might not be half as good, and that doesn't come in a thermos.. with a 'telescopic' spoon!

The courgette cake was originally going to be made (specially requested) for a friend's birthday but as I'd never made one I thought I'd try it out first. It turned out brilliantly - well, after the second bake in our untrustworthy gas oven - and is equally good with a cup of tea or a dollop of yoghurt.

glut

The Guardian always seems quite nicely in tune with my life. So far we have done plenty of stewing, a crumble and an Eve's pudding. Drying and bottling yet to come. Here are the pancakes we had this morning with stewed apples. And how about that, a new table cloth.

Hunted and gathered

Browsing freecycle for furniture or a new bicycle but found an alert: "Apples, apples, apples". I wrote back and the next afternoon we walked over with backpacks to fill. Unfortunately the owner wasn't there to thank, only his surprised neighbours and their supposedly angry sheepdogs ("DOWN DOGS" when we approached the gate seemed contradictory to a couple of apparently docile, maybe nosey animals)

Not sure what types these were - probably three different eating varieties. Just as good to cook with though (had a crumble for our dessert). This, coming after the trout caught by T which we ate, on Nigel Slater's recommendation with rosemary and bacon, meant our supper was pretty much entirely hand picked. And virtually free! Student life.

Downsides: Still haven't found a bike or a wooden table.

Now will probably spend excessive amount buying nice cheese to eat with apples for lunch.

New days

First breakfast in my new place (when I say mine I mean that which I share with 7 others) and I wanted to recreate something from home. Sad, I know. I had bought some damsons and so I stewed them to make something like the compote my mum had made from the excess of plums we'd had at home. I should have just added a bit of sugar but I threw a cinnamon stick in there too which made the breakfast experience a bit too Christmassy for a mid-September morning. Oh well. Our home-made strawberry jam from holiday in France made up for it on toast.

New season's colours

A new greengrocer and some fashion inspiration.

Butchery: Part II

Eagerly awaited the arrival of J's 'pig lady' - running late and lost in her van. Her delay meant the butchery had to be a bit swifter and so this time I was just an onlooker. So..sad not to be wielding the knife once again I got my camera out and (probably distractingly) started snapping.

The head of this happy pig got turned into Brawn - otherwise known as "Head Cheese"(!), which looked beautiful, with a bright orange carrot running through the centre. It was also delicious with a few cornichons. I suppose historically these have been made as a good way of using up the head of an animal. Originally a peasant food in the Middle Ages, it's amazing how this kind of thing can now be served in up-market establishments. Every European country seems to have its own variation of head cheese. I'll try to find it wherever I next go.I love how British foodies are reverting to classics and, especially with meat, continuing that waste-not mentality which makes it okay to serve bone marrow.....some of which, by the way, my mum and I cheekily enjoyed (a present after Butcher lesson number 1) on toast with salt and pepper. Life is great.

Tradition with cream

I have slightly depressed myself contemplating that perhaps blogging about Bakewell tart might not be the best use of a Thursday night. I have no pictures of the recreation of this English traditional pudding because it disappeared too quickly. I should learn from this that if I am to successfully document my experiences with food a ready camera at table is necessary.

I was surprised at how little pastry my recipe (thank you Tamasin Day-Lewis's standard shortcrust) called for but it was the thinness which accounted for near perfection. What an amazingly simple but definately all-time great dessert. And how super to think of the original pudding being created accidentally by a pub cook in 1820. In my opinion the more recent tart adaptation to the former 'pudding' seems like an improvement. But I shall have to go to Bakewell to sample its secret recipe.

(N.B. a couple more reasons to go to Bakewell: 1) it's in the peak district. 2) Jane Austen supposedly stayed (actually in the Bakewell tart birthplace inn) there when writing some of Pride and Prejudice. Even if that's not true they still went to Derbyshire in the book.

Although I will occasionally go to Mr Kipling for Fondant french fancies, I'll be choosing my own Bakewell over a glace cherry-topped miniature from now on.

Pleasure pur-loined

The first fruit of my first butchery lesson. Admittedly, this meal was somewhat disappointing probably in part due to my high expectation and the build-up which started from the moment I got my hands on the boning-knife.

By any standards, it was a nice roast. However, perhaps because the meat was so young and perhaps because of the kidneys in the stuffing(?) a farmyard-y smell and taste hung around our plates. Yes, very authentic and certainly fresh but not really what you want to linger over an evening meal. Sadly the beans were probably the best part, (look how nice and thick they are!) bought from a recently discovered market, perfectly cooked and tossed in oil and balsamic. I hope this loin disaster is not an omen signalling any negative butchering prospects nearby.

Lessons in Butchery: part I

Finally the time came to realise one summer-long fantasy of being shown how to butcher meat. This has nothing to do with any kind of bloody carcass attraction, nor am I intending to form a new career path - it's just something I've been wanting to do. To be able to cook and eat good meat is something great - why not start from the very beginning?

Unfortunately I wasn't able to get to know it personally but I do know that the cow leg pictured above used to belong to a happy beast roaming the Hereford fields. When I say beast, this is no exaggeration. Isn't it strange that we are so used to herding and tucking into creatures of which one leg I could barely lift? The sheer body of it was surprising.

We actually started with lamb - a whole one, so I could see how the body works. Once you know that, you can transpose it to pig or cow, simply adjusting for size. The head, feet, and stomach are removed at the abbatoir and the heart cut open to inspect for disease. Apparently, although heart-diseased animals cannot be eaten, there are other illnesses which might be discovered that have no drastic affect on the meat. These include asthma and emphysema. I thought it rather endearing to imagine sheep wheezing around the countryside like old smokers.

I am not going to now attempt a blow-by-blow account of how our lamb was cut apart, because after one lesson I am surely not the authoritative voice and plus the Guardian has beaten me to it. Anyway, it is not the instructions which stayed with me but perhaps they don't need to - as JW my butchering mentor put it, these animals seem like they were made to have this done to them. This becomes evident as so much of the practice is what is known as 'seam' butchery - exactly what it sounds like. The bodies are sewn together by fat and tendons which keeps them springy or sturdy when alive but on the table, unbelievably allows for them to be easily prised apart. There is very little sawing or hacking involved which makes the process natural and incredibly satisfying.

A lamb is small so somewhat more realistic than anything else to imagine butchering in a home kitchen -- a student kitchen, though? I wonder if there would be enough room in the freezer.

I'm afraid the cow won't get much of a mention - its raw thigh is already the headpiece of this post. By that point I was probably sweating. A hight point however was on musing about my steak tartare obsession being able to slice off a small piece and savour the redness. I really wish I had a mincer at home. Perhaps now if I hadn't made it clear I was fairly obsessive about food I might be mistaken for some kind of serial killer taking out human angst on meat and therefore it might be time to leave...with the knowledge that I have a stuffed and personally-wrapped lamb loin to do something with and a cheeky piece of bone to scoop the marrow out of.