Omelette Arnold Bennett

Consider Arnold Bennett.

He's a famous Victorian novelist I'm reliably informed, although I'm not sure I've ever read any of his novels.. I note from Wikipedia that he wrote for Tit-Bits, although I thought that was something else.

I do know of him though.

Whether he cares now how he's remembered, least of all how he's remembered by me we will never know, but if you mention Arnold Bennett to me around about dinner time, I know I'm in for an eggy, fluffy, fishy treat. I have a faint recollection that this recipe was something to do with the Savoy, where novelists back in his day used to go and stay to write their books. Clearly the advances from publishers you could get in the first part of the 20th Century were pretty tasty; either that or the Savoy used to be a lot cheaper.

An Omelette Arnold Bennett has got it all going on, but is really only eggs and some other bits and pieces, so is perfect flow chart fodder. It's presented above in glorious monocolour for your - and especially Yvonne's - delights.

It's especially nice with a light green salad.

Lamb and Mutton in A Day

A little while ago I enjoyed a day learning about the finer arts of butchering lamb and mutton, in the company of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. This is my review of the day:

Tasty things to do with sharp knives and sheep innards

There it lay, appearing to quiver like some malevolent yet shapeless creature from a 1950's science fiction B-movie. Tubes protruded menacingly from the object as it seemingly wobbled on the countertop, silently challenging the brave to get closer if they dared. Blood seeped into the tray on which it sat.

Sixteen of us were gathered in a chilly honey-coloured stone barn in deepest Dorset, awaiting the arrival of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, our host for a day of learning about lamb and mutton. The rather gruesome looking item on the counter was a fresh sheep's pluck (heart, liver & lungs) which we would later eat in a couple of different guises, first as a pungent slow-cooked paprikash, using the liver and heart, and then the lungs would be transformed into a spicy and dense haggis. Behind the ensemble of butchers block, cooking hob and counter, hung three sheep carcasses, a couple of salamis, a haggis or two and a completely unidentifiable fatty thing which I was too embarrassed to ask the origin of.

The assembled disciples comprised a fairly broad cross-section of meat enthusiasts, undoubtedly influenced by one of the main evangelists of the virtues of 'proper' food where the quality of animal husbandry is upheld not only as an important element in the final taste, appearance and texture of the finished product, but also as a respectful way to treat livestock whose primary purpose over the last few millennia has been to help feed and sustain human life.

A check of the professions of the crowd revealed an abattoir owner, a couple of smallholders, a builder, a glamorous journalist from a New York based magazine and a few other food enthusiasts, curious to see if some of Hugh's knowledge and enthusiasm could rub off on us. Those I spoke to had all received a gift voucher to attend the day as Christmas presents, as I did.

Hugh, for a famous and very public man, is the very antithesis of a celebrity chef; he has a likeable and approachable manner, and comes across very much as the man next door, but with an extraordinary passion and belief in what he does. He also claimed to be under the weather, as his hoarse voice and frequent requests from the kitchen for water testified, but he was ably assisted by professional butcher Ray Smith who was in charge of the sharp knives and carcass dismantling.

The day began with a quickly constructed dish of devil's kidneys which immediately converted one offal sceptic; the rest of us lapped it up and looked for more. We weren't to be disappointed.

Hugh explained the difference between lamb, hoggett and mutton (less than 1 year old, 1 year old and 2-3 years old respectively), why hanging meat is critical to its flavour and texture, why supermarkets won't do this, and much more besides. At his side, Ray had taken one of the carcasses down and was meticulously breaking it down into three main elements, the hindquarters, the shoulder and the loin.

The first active involvement for the spectators was to prepare some hearts for the paprikash, which was fairly straightforward, but this day wasn't especially about participation, and most were happy to sit and watch.

Once the liver and hearts had been combined with a healthy amount of two different paprikas, some cayenne pepper and stock, the pot was taken into the kitchen at the back for a slow simmer, timed to be ready for the last snack of the day.

And so it continued. A lunch of roast haggis-stuffed mutton loin with creamy gratin Dauphinoise and sautéed cabbage arrived and was wolfed down accompanied by quite the coldest red wine I’ve ever experienced. The afternoon was spent making sausages: chorizo, merguez and 'normal' butcher's. No additives, no rusk, no mechanically recovered bits, these were made of 100% meat and spices. Finally, the brave amongst us tackled the sheep's pluck. Slicing lungs (or lights, as the meat industry euphemistically calls them) is not something normally people would pay to do, but somehow it seemed to fit in well with the theme of the day. Pretty soon there was a stack of lights, liver, and heart being fed into the mincer to create the final dish of the day - haggis. A little pinhead oatmeal gave it some body, and plenty of pepper gave it some bite.

Hugh by this time had had to depart, claiming illness was preventing him from productively continuing. The uncharitable might have taken objection to this considering that the cost of the day exceeded the £200 mark, and the deputy chefs appeared not a great deal more competent than the audience they were teaching, but on the whole the day was an enjoyable and instructive experience. We all left with a goodie bag of merguez, lamb kebabs and a little paprikash. The short straw lottery meant that I also took a haggis away.

Lamb and Mutton in a Day, with Hugh Fearnley- Whittingstall and friends
Location: River Cottage HQ - somewhere near Bridport, Dorset
Cost: £225
Details from: www.rivercottage.net

Tartiflette -- Serve with Roast Lamb, it's the Law

There seems to be something of a theme in the recipes I've got going here...I guess you'd call them 'hearty'.

Not that I have a problem with a light salad, but it doesn't necessarily convert very well to flow chart.

1. Take leaves.



2. Wash.



3. Apply dressing of choice.



4. Eat.

See what I mean?

Hmm. This is probably a primeval instinctive reaction to 6 months of winter, and I dare say with some sun on my face this will be reflected in the offerings on here in the not too distant future. For the moment though I'm still deeply immersed in creamy, garlicky yumminess. And for anyone roasting up a lamb for Easter, it's the law to serve it with either a Tartiflette, or it's not too bacony cousin, Pommes Dauphinoise.

Anyway, when you're eating this, just lie back and think of ski slopes. I'd normally serve a Tartiflette with a nice green salad, recipe for which...see above.

Fish Pie, with a Saffron twist

As a result of overwhelming demand, I've decided to keep going with the blog. I've recreated a recipe in a similar style as before, this time for a Fish Pie which is given a little exotic spin by adding a pinch of saffron. Don't use much or it'll take over.

I'm aware that there small wars are fought over whether you should use cheese as part of your sauce in a Fish Pie, but it's been left out of this recipe. Cheese + Saffron = Yuk in my book. Normally though, Gruyere is where it's at.

Cottage Pie Recipe - Flow Chart stylee

Hello everyone.
Not only my first blog here, but my first blog anywhere, as long as you discount the ill-starred web page I once wrote entitled 'Cheeses I have loved'. I think you might figure out quite why that didn't make the light of day. In my defence, I was a little younger then.

I've long had an idea that many people are intrigued by the idea of cooking reasonably challenging recipes, but simply lack the confidence to tackle them.

It was during the course of preparing a Christmas lunch for the extended family that I became acutely aware of the chaos which had enveloped the kitchen, and it started me wondering whether a more structured way of helping the ambitious - and not so ambitious - home chefs might be useful. It certainly would have been for me then. And so an idea was born.

When I look at a recipe, the instructions are obviously an essential part, but can sometimes appear a little daunting, and I've lost count of the number of times I've prepared one part of a recipe, only to find I should have also been working on something else simultaneously. And how does that course fit in with the vegetables I'm trying to prepare. And when on earth do I start pudding?? Ok, I admit a good read-through of the recipe beforehand might have helped, but I'll leave that to the Perfect Ones. There are times when I can barely remember my own name, let alone that I needed to have a brown roux ready to add to the sauce Espagnole to create a demi-glace.

A background in process design, coupled with the observation that it can be helpful to illustrate and explain ideas using flow charts, led me to put some recipes together in a more structured way. I've stuck one of them top right. Each of my recipes shows all the different elements of the cooking process as steps in a flow chart. This one is for a lovely cottage pie.

Hope you enjoy it!