Hearty stew

I have always carried a little guilt for my dislike of organ meats. It makes sense to me that we shouldn't just be picking the finest cuts and feeding the rest to cats. Meat production is ethically complicated, more so if the only product we choose to utilize from the resources, energy and pain that goes into it is individually wrapped chicken breasts and steak cuts. Whilst I have never been quite that extravagant with my meat, I don't get along too well with offal. Sausages, black pudding and pate are fine. Its not a visceral thing (no pun intended) but rather the smell and taste, so anything heavily seasoned is perfectly edible. Kidneys are out in any context; I have never come across a seasoning that can mask that smell sufficiently. I finally weaned myself onto DH's favourite liver and onions, though it is an occasional treat; my own version is doused in a liberal quantity of home-brew beer to take the edge off (of me or the livers, I'm not quite sure!); after which they are quite passable.

A few years ago, I bought some lamb hearts. I have no idea why I picked them up, I think I was just feeling brave on that particular visit to the butchers. Lamb hearts are meaty in texture and they taste and smell like lamb, although with a slightly more iron tang to them. They are incredibly lean and do need a long slow cook to tenderize, which makes them perfect for stews and casseroles, where a little goes a long way. They are also incredibly good value - I bought six for £3.40 from our butchers shop with the intention of stuffing and braising them. Then I got home and...couldn't really be bothered to learn something new. Stew it was, goulash(ish) style to celebrate the fact that my corner shop now sells very reasonably priced paprika. 

* * * * * *

Lamb heart stew (serves 6)

100g dried haricot beans, soaked overnight

3 lambs hearts

1tbsp oil

1 rounded tbsp plain flour

2 large onions, chopped

1 rounded tbsp paprika

1 pint stock

2 cloves garlic

Ground black pepper

1 rounded tsp cinnamon

2 bay leaves

1 tsp dried thyme

3 large carrots, chopped

¼ large cabbage, shredded

Mashed potato to serve

Bring the haricot beans to the boil and maintain for ten minutes. Drain and set aside.

Slice the hearts in half lengthways. Remove any obvious tough vessels, chop and rinse thoroughly. Toss with the flour.

Heat the oil in the pan and add the onions, spices and hearts. Cook over a medium heat until browned.

Add the drained haricot beans and stock. Bring to the boil and reduce to a gentle simmer for 1 1/2 hours. 

Add the carrots, cabbage, bay and thyme and cook for a further 30 mins, or until the carrots are tender. Boil and mash the potatoes during this final stage and serve.

* * * * * * 

I added just 3 and put the rest in the freezer, which makes for a tasty and frugal stew at around 60p a portion when served with mashed potatoes. Alas with the evenings drawing in and an already dingy dining room, there are no good photos of the finished product, but it looked good and tasted lovely. Autumn is definitely here.

Frugal frittata

Darling husband-to-be picked up two boxes of twelve eggs for 10 pence a pop last week, with a week left on their 'display until' dates (it is surprising that our local Co-ops haven't gone out of business, as this sort of evening reduction isn't an unusual occurrence). For us and anyone else who picked up a bargain that evening, eggcellent...

Eggs are a cheap and tasty source of protein, vitamins and minerals at around 20 pence per egg. They are also the basis for many very quick meals, a boon after a long day. Quite often they find their way into dishes with lots of leftovers and loose ends - hash, stir-fry, and salads. Last night it was frittata. I have had a jar of Lidl sweet peppers sitting in the cupboard for a few months now. I've used them before and always think that they are delicious, so I buy another jar - and can't think what to do with them. From memory, I think that they are good in lasagne. They also, apparently, make an awesome frittata.

* * * * * *

 Sweet pepper frittata (4 adult portions)

4 small potatoes, thinly sliced
1 small onion, halved and sliced.
2 sweet smoked peppers, chopped
1 tsp smoked paprika
Black pepper
Oil
7 medium eggs
Small amount of grated cheese.

In a frying pan, simmer the potato slices in a small amount of water for a few minutes until they begin to soften.

Drain away any excess water; add the oil, onions, peppers and spices and fry over a high heat until the onions have softened, turning regularly.

In a separate bowl, beat the eggs. Add them to the pan, rolling it to distribute as evenly as possible through the veg.

Cook over a low heat until cooked through, around ten minutes. Grate some cheese over the top and place under the grill to brown if desired.

* * * * * *

This was last night's dinner and it was appreciated by both children and adults. It currently works out at around 80 pence a portion (I was really frugal with the cheese), or buttons if your eggs cost you less than a penny each. Keep the stock taking errors coming, please, Mr Coop.

Making yoghurt in a Thermos

Ever made the mistake of Googling yoghurt making?

I have traditionally used the technique laid out in The Encyclopedia of Country Living and not questioned it. It has always worked, I haven't had a batch go bad - and I haven't poisoned anyone yet. But before I put this down here for others to follow, I thought I would check that the procedure was safe and up to date. And so the fun began.

Yoghurt making begins with warming your milk. Some internet authorities state that you should heat your milk to sterilize it before allowing it to cool to optimum yoghurt culturing temperature. Some say using shop bought pasteurized milk means you can skip the sterilization, but should certainly sterilize fresh raw milk because of all the pus and TB and stuff. Some say that using fresh raw milk is safe but you wouldn't want to use shop bought milk without sterilizing it, because of all the pus and TB and stuff. Heating the milk apparently has another advantage apart from ensuring your milk is safe, in that it breaks down the milk proteins, resulting in a thicker yoghurt. But to what temperature? The ever reliable interwebs give ranges from the aforementioned 0 degrees C for 0 minutes, through 65 degrees C for 1 - 30 minutes, right up to 85 degrees C for 1 - 30 minutes. Helpful, no?

I think that this method from the US National Center for Home Food Preservation  is possibly the most thorough and well explained, definitely worth a read. My method is not that different, apart from I merely bring the milk to an almost simmer, I don't hold it there. I also make mine in a regular Thermos flask, which is the simplest way to keep the temperature constant with no need to expend extra energy (and therefore money) on the process. In the absence of a thermos, I have wrapped the saucepan in heavy blankets overnight and placed it in a warm room. Methods involving running a low oven or heat pad for hours on end seem unnecessarily wasteful.

I find a thermometer essential to work out when it is safe to add the live culture. Too hot or too cold and it will not work, a thermometer takes away the guess work and has plenty of other applications in the kitchen that it is worth spending a few pennies on one. I don't follow the recommendation to add powdered milk, because a thinner yoghurt suits us. We use full fat, but you can use any milk, from reconstituted powdered skimmed milk to fresh blue-top with a dollop of cream added - the fattier the starter, the naturally thicker the end product.

* * * * * *

Yoghurt (makes 1 litre)

1 litre full fat milk

2 tbsp live yoghurt

Ensure all utensils are clean and sterile. Scalding them with hot water should suffice. 

In a large saucepan and stirring constantly, slowly heat the milk to just below boiling point - it will be steaming and starting to foam slightly. 

Remove from the heat and place the pan in a bowl of cold water to cool quickly.

When cooled to around 43-45 degrees C, stir in the live yoghurt, pour into the Thermos and leave for a minimum of six hours. A maximum of 12 allows for a better set.

Transfer to a lidded jar and store in the fridge for up to 5 days. 

* * * * * *

I love my Thermos very much, it is a regular 1 litre capacity drinks flask. A wide necked one would be useful, but the yoghurt is quite pourable, you just need a bottle brush to clean it effectively.

Flat Bread

We haven't baked so much bread around these parts in recent months. Our oven was replaced with a fan oven and it doesn't play ball when it comes to baking, or at least, we still haven't learnt how to use it effectively.

But these little beauties - we make these a lot.

When I came to university I came armed with three cookbooks - the first vegetarian cookbook I ever bought, the obligatory 'student' cookbook, and a sketchbook in which I had been collecting recipes, most never tested, since I was fifteen. I still have the sketchbook and I still haven't cooked most of the delights contained therein. There is a recipe however for Swedish Flat Bread, I don't know where I copied it from, but the original is not my own. I have made it many times and it has gradually become more refined - the original makes quite a stodgy tablet of rye bread. What student has rye flour to hand? Gradually, the quantities changed but the good stuff remained and this one has become my own, as much as a recipe ever can be, through use and experimentation and mishap.

A skillet cooked flat bread is the most frugal bread you can make. It is generally unleavened, though I have seen recipes made with yeast or even Bicarbonate of soda. Cooked for mere minutes on the hob, they are frugal in both money and time - and the oven can stay off in the heat of summer.

They seem to be common to all cultures too, made from a diverse variety of grains and with even more diverse spices added. To this basic recipe can be added almost any spice or herb that you want. You can add yoghurt, milk or beer in place of water, or sub in different flours or oils. They can be made into tortilla thin wraps or hearty slabs. I have done all of these things at one time or another, but I always come back to basics:

* * * * * *

Wholemeal Flat Bread (makes 4 large breads)

2 cups wholemeal strong bread flour
1 scant cup water
1/2 tbsp oil (optional)
1/2 tsp salt

Mix the salt, flour and oil together and gradually stir in the water to form a firm, slightly sticky dough.

Knead the dough for 5 minutes on an unfloured surface until it starts to feel soft and smooth. If it is still too sticky knead in a teaspoon or so extra flour.

Now flour your work surface. Split the dough into four and roll out the first ball very thinly into a round the size of your frying pan/skillet.

Cook on an ungreased skillet over medium heat for 1-1 1/2 minutes each side, pricking the surface with a fork to stop air pockets forming.

Repeat with the remaining dough portions.

* * * * * *

We serve these with soups in winter, as they can be made on the hob right alongside the stew. In summer (and spring days like today) they accompany salads, bean pate or cheeses and chutney. Sometimes I go crazy and tear them up into a salad. Regardless, they are best served straight away, but can be refreshed after a day or so by sprinkling with water and rewarming in the pan.

I am in the process of compiling the recipes I really want to pass on to our children - the things we eat regularly and the things that I feel they should be able to cook. This one I think everyone should be able to cook - one of humankind's staple foods, bread, in its simplest form. It is quite tasty, too.

Homemade laundry powder, finally!

I haven't made laundry liquid in such a long time, partly because I so rarely go into the city centre to purchase Borax substitute - it really does make all the difference. Instead I have been using all kinds of things - the odd box of cheap commercial powder from the corner shop, grated soap and soda crystals and even bottles of shampoo and shower gel I received for Christmas that I can't use on my body for whatever reason. All quite frugal, but they lack a certain...homeliness. I loved making my own laundry detergent; I loved washing Gus's nappies with it. Such a silly thing to feel empowered by, but I honestly think that making the things we need from basics is good for the soul.

In a fit of enthusiasm I ordered a box of Borax substitute at extortionate price (£2.55, most of that is postage) from Amazon yesterday - only to walk into our local hardware store and find it sitting on the shelf, a freshly stocked new line, at a very reasonable £1.30. I have emailed to cancel the Amazon order, I bought two boxes for that price and supported a small family business at the same time.

Laundry powder makes so much more sense than having gallons of laundry liquid stashed away in our tiny kitchen and so I will be making that in future. There seems to be one recipe on the Internet that has done the rounds since the dawn of time homemaking based blogs. I have no idea where it originated. This is basically that recipe with a little more washing soda added - we live in a very hard water area. I used two bars of homemade olive castille soap for this which made it even cheaper and gives it a pleasant scent. 

* * * * * *

Laundry Powder (hard water)

6 cups (loosely packed) grated soap
3 cups soda crystals
2 cups Borax substitute

Mix the ingredients together in a large bowl. Use a stick blender to pulse the mixture to break up the soap a little. Mix thoroughly with a spoon and store covered in a cool dry place, shaking occasionally to ensure thorough mixing.

Use scant 1/6 cup per load

 * * * * * *

After Christmas this bread tin was full to the brim with a fraction of the chocolate we received - far more than our healthy annual family quota (not that we keep an official tally or anything - it's just this years haul was particularly monstrous, added as it was to the tail end of the Halloween treats. Roll on Easter!). We have used as much of it as possible in hot chocolate and cooking, palmed some off onto visitors and now the rest is hidden away in a small bag

Which means I now have a fancy, if a little large, laundry tin. I will probably double the recipe next time so that it is at least half full!

Balm

Some of us are beginning to show our age. I noticed my hands this year are looking particularly elderly for a 27 year old - dry, wrinkly creases have appeared across the back of my hands and up over my wrists. Too many summers of baking my pale English rose skin under a hot Norfolk sun have caught up with me - not that I wanted to tan, I just had far better things to do back then than stopping to apply sun lotion. Lesson learnt.

I am trying my best to drink my eight glasses of water a day. A moisturising barrier between my papery skin and the biting wind would also be helpful. We still have a few litres of olive pomace oil left over from soap making and some beeswax of forgotten prior purpose (perhaps just because it smells so nice?), more than sufficient to make something soothing.

* * * * * *

Winter balm

1 30g bar of beeswax, grated

1 cup olive oil

Geranium essential oil

1 clean prewarmed glass jar (1 1/4 cup capacity)

Heat the oil in a bain marie over a a gentle heat. Stir in the beeswax until completely dissolved. Remove from the heat and stir in the essential oil. Pour into the jar and leave to cool. 

* * * * * *

My hands are supple once again. I applied no less than four coats to my lips this morning, each coat being sucked into my skin almost immediately until they were back to their former plumpness. In this short space of time it has been pressed into service not only as a body, hand and lip balm but also as a shaving oil  - and a lubricating oil for the tension knob on my spinning wheel. I suspect it could be used as wood polish too. I love having one jar in the place of many, two ingredients in the place of potentially hundreds. 

I used geranium oil simply because we had it, but doing a little research suggests that it has some application in balancing oily skin, which is very handy for someone whose skin varies between filo dry and butter pastry. Most importantly though, geranium oil is the smell of spring and summer. It reminds me of  one of the happiest moments of my life, sitting drinking tea on the lawn of a hotel in Kathmandu, the walls, window sills and beds riotous with red trailing geraniums. Before that moment, I think, I had actively disliked the smell; now I love the 'greeness' of it. In our garden we had a geranium, 'Attar of Roses', with small delicate pink flowers that appeared at the height of summer and smelt of Turkish delight - I wonder if I were to invest in a bottle of rose oil, the two oils combined might recreate that smell?

Frugal breakfast - homemade instant oats

I have noticed at lot of people in my office bringing in sachets of ready oats and tubs of instant porridge - expensive sachets and tubs. Even the own brand ones are extortion over a bowl of homemade porridge. I do understand though that even if you have access to a microwave at work, it is quicker and easier to use the instant oats. I made the mistake of using the microwave during my 15 minute break to make regular porridge and ended up wolfing down a bowl of scalding hot porridge with two minutes to go.

Having said that, instant oats are far cheaper than my recent habit of buying food from the canteen or express shop. Buying food at work to eat at work so that you can earn money is one of those habits that I know is really really really dumb and yet I still do it far too often.

So I have made my own instant oats. Half a cup of oats, 1 level desert spoon of sugar (soft brown would have been preferable for that golden syrup taste) and 1/4 teaspoon of cinnamon per portion. Simply pulse blend the oats until they are somewhere between cous cous and pudding rice in grain size. Put them in your lidded container with the sugar and spice and give them a good shake. That's it, until you get to breakfast time.

So, enough boiling water to cover, a quick stir, and a splash of milk to cool things down. Breakfast is served, at less than 15p a serving using good quality oats not bought on special offer. If you leave out the sugar and spice, it's less than 10p and still perfectly delicious. The leading brand sachets work out at about double that, which doesn't sound much until you work out that that is an extra £36 you are spending on porridge over a full time working year. Not to mention the 240 carboard tubs or foiled sachets and numerous carboard boxes that are going straight in the bin. I could do a lot with £36.

As it is so heartwarmingly cheap I might try and bling it up a little with some chopped fruit or nuts. Perhaps even cocoa occasionally. I have made enough for three weeks worth, each week is packed in a takeaway container, small enough to stay in my desk drawer; after that its crazy flavour open  season on porridge at my office.

Rhubarb ketchup

So...that was a long week. Instead of periodically dropping in and promising posts, I figured I might as well actually write one and post it.

Rhubarb, rhubarb rhubarb...I am having mixed results with rhubarb plants. For a hardy, easy going perennial I really have managed to balls it up. Of the two expensive fancy variety crowns that we planted on the allotment last year, one died and rotted within the month and the other did very little all year and hadn't emerged by the end of March this year (which is late around these balmy parts). I bought two more crowns, cheap common variety ones this time, and dug new holes close to the first two. In the process I discovered one budding crown deep under the surface - I say one, I had turned it into four with my fork by the time I realized what it was. The two new crowns remain on the plot and appear to be doing well and two of the four bits of root that I managed to split are now growing incredibly well in large pots in the yard, in complete shade. Who knew?

So, no personal harvest this year. However, our allotment neighbours have abandoned their plot, and the path separating us from them. They have a huge rhubarb patch that has gradually encroached across the paths and into our broad beans. So call this a contractor's fee for freeing up the overgrown paths on their behalf:

I may have a terrible track record at cultivating it, but I can pilfer it with the best of them. I love it! It's pink! And really, really tart and slightly poisonous tasting, which adds a little thrill to the eating experience. We brought back a lot of rhubarb, the back seat of the car was stuffed too. We gave some away which made barely a dent in it. The last two weeks have consequently been rhubarb appreciation fortnight in this house. Some was dipped in sugar and munched raw, but there is only so much you can eat like that before you succumb to kidney failure. To the preserving pan!


Rhubarb ketchup

Makes approximately 2 pints

6 cups rhubarb, coarsely diced
2 onions, diced,
I clove garlic
1 400g tin chopped tomatoes
2 cups white sugar
1 cup spirit vinegar*
1 cup water
1 rounded tsp ground allspice
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
4 bay leaves
1 rounded tsp sea salt

*I confess I used wine vinegar, as that's all I had. In my professional opinion as a first time ketchup maker, spirit vinegar would have tasted better. Use that.

Bring all of the ingredients to the boil then simmer for about one hour:

When everything has softened and the rhubarb has disintegrated to goo, remove the bay leaves. Remove the pan from the heat and use a stick blender to puree the pulp. Return the pan to the heat (if necessary) and simmer gently until the puree reaches a ketchup consistency. The bubbles and stirring will leave a trace on the surface when it reaches the right consistency. 

Bottle into hot sterilized jars (bottles if you have them...we don't).

Run out and buy chips to test as a matter of urgency...

It's good. Two pints of ketchup should get us through to autumn, when I will probably have another tomato failure with which to whip up another batch of  Ugly Tom's. I am actually kind of hoping for a failure, if I am being honest, with just half a jar left and a whole lot of summer to get through.

Other stuff was done with rhubarb in this house. Those tales of rhubarb are for another day. In the meantime, I hope you are enjoying the pink stuff before its season is completely over. 

The trouble with chutney

The green tomatoes didn't really ripen too well on the windowsill, probably thanks to all the clouds loitering around these parts at the moment. Kind souls from all around have offered me chutney recipes as a way to deal with my green tomato harvest. I like sugar, I love vinegar, I adore sweet and sour anything. What could be the problem? I couldn't bear to tell a single one of those kind souls my very unfrugal, unautumnal, unsweet-and-sour worshiping secret.

I hate chutney. I am not a chutney person. I have never met a chutney that I have really enjoyed.

So it came as a surprise to me that I found a spare six hours in my hectic schedule to make chutney yesterday. A simple means to deal with the tomatoes threatening to turn bad, I had planned on giving most of it away, leaving only a token jar for the men of the house to enjoy. I spent several hours scanning recipes hoping to alight across something that appealed; and in so doing, I struck upon the root of my problem with chutney. I have never met a piece of chutney worthy dried fruit that I actually like. Sultanas, apricots and raisins...mollasses-y chewy yuck. And all of the recipes I found were brimming with dried fruit.

With understanding comes healing. I made this recipe up as I went along, using the unripe and half ripe Purple Calabash tomatoes. Aren't they ugliful?

Ugly Tom's Chutney

1.5kg mixed green and under ripe tomatoes, chopped
0.5kg young tart apples, chopped
350g onions, chopped
6 garlic cloves, slivered
150g demerara sugar
200g white granulated sugar
200ml balsamic vinegar
150ml white wine vinegar
250ml malt vinegar
1 1/2 tsp powdered ginger
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
Motherload of ground black pepper (I spent several minutes of grinding)
2 bay leaves
1 tbsp sea salt

Simply bring all the ingredients to the boil in a large pan...

Simmer down over a low heat for several hours, stirring frequently as it thickens, until reduced enough to leave a trace when the spoon is drawn through...

Remove the bay leaves, bottle, christen and label.

As for post bottling processing...I did it the traditional British way with quaint disregard for botulism, USDA guidelines, or scalded fingers. Next year I may get organized and take the  prescribed safer route instead (not least because it gives me an excuse to buy pretty Kilner jars).

I like this chutney. This recipe makes just under two litres, most of which I will be keeping for myself ourselves. It tastes like a slightly hot cross between tomato ketchup (which I heart) and brown sauce (which I most definitely don't heart - molasses-y) and I like it. It was my intention to leave them to mature for a few months, but so far one of the small jars is nearly empty. Turns out it makes a nice basis for a sweet and sour marinade and is also a good dip for chips. Not bad for some very ugly fruits.

Salad Days

In an occasional nod to my nations culinary heritage, I whip up a 'traditional British salad', as my mummy made, consisting of a small amount of limp lettuce, a few soft tomatoes and half an overly bitter cucumber (perhaps even some grated carrot or vacuum packed beetroot that will irreversibly dye the whole salad, your table linen, your clothes and anything else that it touches bright pink), dressed with a liberal helping of salad cream. I think the last time I did it was Christmas 2005; and I've not gone there since.

No, normally when I make a salad, I make something wholesome and satisfying:

The picture doesn't do it justice. This salad deserved better light (more salady sunshine, less overcast skies) and a photographer with 20:20 vision that had a clue how to operate the auto-focus on her other half's fancy pants SLR.

I have found that feeding two adults who work crazy shift patterns and a voracious toddler healthy meals on a daily basis can get a bit trying. Making up a batch of salad every so often feeds us for two days, home or away. I use the portion guide here when measuring out my quantities. My salad will always include at least one grain (unless I know I can serve it with bread or crackers); one pulse or other protein source; two or three portions of fruit or veg; occasionally some nuts or seeds; and an oil based dressing with as many flavours as I can get away with...

Today's offering fed us our evening meal; and tomorrow will feed OH and the Boy at home and me at work.

Barley bean salad: Serves 5 (or in this case 4 adult servings, 2 for littl'un)

For the salad:

200g (dry weight) pearl barley, cooked with a bay leaf until tender, rinsed
200g (dry weight) black turtle beans, soaked and cooked until tender (not mushy!), rinsed.
1 large onion
250g green beans (frozen in this instance, ahem), just-cooked
4 large tomatoes

For the dressing:

4 Tbsp olive oil
3 Tbsp red wine vinegar
2 chopped garlic cloves
Approx 1 heaped Tbsp each chopped fresh tarragon and parsley
1 teaspoon chopped fresh sage
1/4 teaspoon mustard powder
1/2 teaspoon soft brown sugar
Salt and black pepper to taste

Whilst the barley and beans cool, mix the dressing ingredients in a lidded jar and shake vigorously until thoroughly combined. Leave to one side. Medium dice the tomatoes and onions. Chop the green beans into one inch lengths. Combine all three together in a large bowl. When the barley and beans are sufficiently cool, add them to the bowl. Shake the dressing again and pour over the salad. Mix thoroughly. The salad will last for 2 days if refrigerated.