Wednesday Night Pizza

One of the things I dread most is a dinner rota. It's Tuesday, it must be spaghetti. Thursday night is curry. And Sunday? Sunday is the dreaded roast dinner, with the same meat and vegetables as we cooked badly last week.

Individually, there's nothing wrong with any of these for dinner. The banality comes from the inevitably of the same seven dishes wheeled out each week, rather than the food. Back in catered halls, I was initially impressed with the variety and quality of the menus. It was only after a few months when vegetable bake rolled round yet again that I began to dismay.

We didn't have a full rota when I was child, but there were some days that had dinner assigned. Saturday would be fajitas (My father eats everything with a knife and fork, even fajitas. He would go out on Saturday nights so we would take the opportunity to eat with our hands.) The horror of the Sunday roast, followed by a light dinner of taramasalata and pitta bread.*

I looked forward to Wednesday though. Wednesday was pizza night. My dad always cooked on pizza night, using a slab of stone to get extra heat in the oven, and gently pushing the dough to fill the pizza trays. I'd help make the tomato sauce, or mix the dough. I'd be first to volunteer for cutting up the kabanos, sneaking the end slices in to my mouth when I thought no one was looking.

Pizza with peppers, kabanos, olives, mushroom & an egg.

This recipe is far from authentic. It features the aforementioned kabanos (usually we'd buy it from the Polski Sklep, but in this part of Scotland I have to make do with ambient kabanos. Nice.) and a tinned tomato sauce. I'm sure most Italians would probably laugh in disgust. It's invented by a man who hadn't tasted pizza until his late twenties, and garnished with whatever leftovers can be scavenged from the salad drawer.

Ambient Kabanos. Next week - trance wiejska

*looking back, I realise this is quite a weird thing to have for dinner once a week for around 10 years.

Wednesday Night Pizza
Serves 2

Dough
175g plain flour
pinch of sugar and salt
1 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp dried yeast

1) Place all the ingredients in a bowl, and add a splash of warm water.
2) Mix until a smooth dough is formed - you may need to add more water.
3) Knead for around 5 minutes until soft and supple. Place in a oiled bowl, then cover with a damp cloth. Leave to rise for at least 30 mins.

Tomato Sauce
1 small onion
1 clove of garlic
1 tsp anchovy paste
1 tbsp tomato puree
1 can of chopped tomatoes
Sprinkle of dried oregano
Salt and pepper

1) Chop the onion and garlic as finely as you can. Gently fry them for 5 minutes, until soft but not coloured.
2) Add in the anchovy paste and tomato puree. Cook for 1 minute.
3) Pour in the chopped tomatoes, oregano and season.
4) Bring the pan to a gently simmer, and stir occasionally.
5) The sauce is ready once it's very thick and the chunks of tomato are almost totally broken down. Dragging a spoon through the pan should leave a clean line. This usually takes around 20 mins.

Thick tomato sauce

Toppings
I like kabanos, peppers, anchovies, capers, fresh egg, olives, mushrooms and mozzarella. Not necessarily all at once.

Assembly
1) Preheat the oven to the highest setting.
2) Gently stretch the pizza dough over an oiled baking sheet*. You'll need to prod and poke it in to place. Make it slightly bigger as it will shrink a little as you put the toppings on.
3) Spread a thin layer of sauce on the dough, and add your toppings.
4) Blast in the hot oven for 8-10 minutes.
*If you are really clever, you can stretch the dough on to a floured plate, and slide it directly on to a scorching hot baking sheet. This makes for a crispy crust, but runs the risk of your pizza disintegrating in to a heap.

Australia Highlights

The worst part about holidays is when you have to come back. After several flights, 47 hours without sleep, and a rather large duty free bag full of TimTams, we arrived back to a rather cold and gray Edinburgh. Without the motivation of sunshine and new cities to explore, I have been rather slow to readjust my body-clock. I've never really been one for the solo lunch extravaganza, so I've found myself passing through the days on nothing but bananas, toast and the occasional bowl of soup.

Evenings haven't been much better. If I'm tired I revert back to my past narrow eating habits, endlessly flicking through magazines and cookbooks in the vain hope that something will inspire me. It does not. I am ashamed to admit our dinners over the past few weeks have been pretty dire, as I have lost all focus in the kitchen. I want to cook, but I have no desire to eat, let alone photograph and blog about such uninspiring food.

Hopefully my mojo should return soon, and I shall return to more frequent blogging. For the moment, here are some photos from the trip.
We had breakfast at the Sydney Opera House. A seagull ate the leftovers.

Macarons from Adriano Zumbo. His shop was amazing, with some fantastic, wittily named creations. We found the macarons a bit hit and miss - the black sesame; coconut and pineapple; and forest fruits with pink pepper were delicious. The cherry and banana was synthetic tasting, and the lemon verbena with mint was way too vegetal.

The vanilla heart was our favourite, and I was impressed at how accurate the piping had to be to make hundreds of identical hearts to sandwich together.

Melbourne was my favourite city. I loved the lanes and we were lucky enough to stumble across Gill's Diner. Here we had what was easily the best meal of the trip. I had a rabbit pastilla, which was bursting with spiced meat and surprisingly juicy chunks of dried apricot. It was accompanied by black sesame crusted labneh and peppery salad leaves. T had chicken 'Three Ways' - a dainty breaded drumstick, a roasted breast and a chicken sausage. We finished off with a plate of crispy churros with a chilli chocolate dipping sauce. The waiters were lovely, and kindly fitted us in even though the place was packed and we didn't have a booking. It was all very relaxed, with the menu written on a blackboard and large communal tables. I'd love to find a restaurant like this in Edinburgh.

Another delight we found among Melbourne's lanes was Koko Black, a chocolate shop with a few branches around Victoria. We had a Chocolate Spoil in the cafe, featuring chocolate cake, chocolate shortbread, raspberry and cognac truffles (pictured above), chocolate mousse, chocolate ice cream and 2 hot chocolates. The chocolate mousse and ice cream didn't last long, as they were particularly delicious. I was totally chocolated out by the end though.

Reflections on Communal Eating and Living

This weekend we hand the keys to our flat back to the landlord. This marks the end of my time as a student, and the end of my time living in flats where you get to argue about who left the bathroom in such a mess and who didn't pay their share of the gas bill.

One of the most stressful things I've found with communal living is the upkeep of the kitchen. I never thought I would find this as difficult as I have. Neither of my parents are massively in to cooking, and neither of them are particularly houseproud. I grew up in a house where tidying and cleaning were usually done in a massive hygiene binge the day before visitors were due. We were never candidates for "How Clean is Your House", but at the same time the mantelpiece could have used dusting.

However, the kitchen was always pretty clean. Surfaces were wiped down after dinner, and the washing up done and put away. The fridge was regularly checked for anything that had gone bad, and the bins taken out. My only memory of dirt in the kitchen was the floor, as the kitchen door led out to the back garden, so it would often have muddy footprints or bits of stray grass cuttings here and there. Given that I was quite happy with this approach to cleanliness (surfaces and equipment clean, floor less important), I thought I'd be ok in shared flats.

I was wrong. Over the past 4 years, I lived with people who thought the best place to make their toast was directly on the counter, and then left a pile of crumbs with a smear of butter and jam as a reminder. Or the person who insisted on lining every baking tray with tin foil to minimise washing up, but then tearing the foil and deciding they couldn't be bothered to clear up the layer of grease that stuck the foil to the pan. Even more extreme, there was one person who refused to even use baking trays, reheating their ready meals solely in a tin foil cradle. Which burst all over the floor on several occasions, once infuriating the aforementioned flatmate so much they headbutted the fridge. There are people who use 12 saucepans to make spaghetti bolognese, and those that use wire wool on the non-stick pans. People who leave all their washing up in the sink, and then act surprised that you didn't do it for them. Or wash up under running water, so that when you pull the frying pan out of the cupboard the next day, you notice that while the inside is clean, the outside has half a fried egg stuck to it.

Sometimes the spice rack looks likes this.

Note the broken glass and intended recycling

It's also common for the worktop to look like this.

So close to the sink, yet so far from clean.

I'm looking forward to living somewhere you only have to clean after dinner, not before as well.

I'm also pretty sad to move out. Although some of my past flatmates have been hilariously incompetent in the kitchen, having 3 or 4 other people under the same roof makes for great communal meals. This year alone we've had Thanksgiving, Christmas dinner, Anti-Valentines, a mexican night, a tapas night and a chilli cook off. We had a chocolate fondue party, and baked a 2 foot long custard cream. We celebrated Burn's Night with the biggest haggis you've ever seen. There's always willing mouths to tuck in to the latest thing I've baked, usually just because I felt like it.

I've lost count the number of times I've bought too much dinner and managed to offload the leftovers on to one of my flatmates. This year particularly, I've had several texts and calls offering me a communal dinner. There's something great about coming home to a roast dinner and a table populated by some of your best friends, when an hour ago your dinner plans involved a can of baked beans and a serious iPlayer session.

While I won't miss communal cleaning (I've spent the last two days trying to scrape a year's worth of grease out the oven) I will definitely miss the communal eating.

Tailend Fish Bar, Leith

This post was meant to be about croissants. I'd laminated some yeasted dough, rested it, and left it overnight ready to bake myself some fresh croissants for breakfast. I carefully rolled out the pastry, cut it in to triangles, and rolled them over to form the distinct croissant shape. After 20 minutes rising in a warm place, and 25 minutes in a hot oven, it was time to eat.

They were slightly crispier on the outside than was ideal, but no matter. Inside, the dough was hot and steamy, but not right. Instead of being buttery, light and fluffy, it was stodgy, yeasty and dense. Yuech!

So instead of telling you how to fail at croissant baking, I'll tell you about some really awesome fish and chips I had.

E has a friend, K, staying with us for the summer. He arrived on Sunday, jetlagged and exhausted from the transatlantic flight. Instead of letting him rest, we decided to drive him to Leith for some traditional fish and chips.

It's a bit of a tradition to deep fry things in Scotland, and there is a rumour that a chip shop exists where they will deep fry ANYTHING for you. It starts with a Mars bar, and ends up with you paying to batter your shoes.

Most chips shops are ok, but not great. You'll get some soggy chips, and greasy bit of overcooked fish. It's ok if you are drunk at 4am, but less ok if that's your dinner. I'd heard that the Tailend was different, and were more about good quality fish well cooked than trying to outdo the chippy down the road for how many different pizza flavours they can deep fry. (Yep. In Scotland even pizza can be deep fried.)

We opted for take away, as we didn't really have enough money to afford to eat the same food in the next door restaurant. If you take away, it's about half the price of sitting in, but essentially the same food. E and K went for the Cod supper, and I went for the Hake and chips.

The food took quite a while to come, and the staff, while friendly, weren't the most efficient. We eventually got our bag of greased up goodies and went home to eat it.

The first thing I noticed when removing the boxes from the bag, was how little grease there was soaked in. The reason many chip shops wrap everything in several layers of paper is to prevent your hands getting too greasy when all the fat starts coming out of the food. The Tailend boxes were still pretty pristine from grease, which suggested the fish and chips had been fried at the correct temperature and well drained before being packed up.

Reasonably small amount of grease

Although the chips had gone a bit soggy from the 15 minute journey back to the flat, they were still crispy on the outside, while soft and meltingly tender inside. They were my dream chip. I love getting fat chips (no skinny fries for me) which are actually crunchy.

Dream chips and Great Hake

The fish was also delicious, with a crispy batter surrounding the flaky flesh. Deep frying will never showcase fish in the same way sushi or grilling does, but it makes a bloody good attempt when done right.

The only downside is that Leith is so far away!

Food Adventures in Mallorca

Florence had been a gift from T for finishing uni, so I got to boss him around and make him eat weird food. Mallorca was a chill out holiday with friends from uni, and each of us had our own odd food habits. These included, but were not limited to:

• preferring processed cheese over real
• no red meat
• no fish
• no food with "bits" in (such as chocolate chip ice cream)
• no rice
• no white bread
• no brown bread
• no ham
• no chorizo
• only drinks white wine
• only drinks red wine
• no mushrooms
• no spicy food
• no well done meat
• no rare meat
• no dairy
• no butter
• no olives
• no lemon/"acidic" flavours
  

So between seven of us, cooking dinner was a bit of a challenge. We were also feeling quite budget conscious, so we didn't want to eat out too often either. We had a couple of nice barbecues, and one night I made roast chickens with an improvised patatas bravas and spinach salad. I've never roasted two chickens at once, so that was fun. I've also never made patatas bravas, so I cobbled together a vaguely piccante sauce, although the potatoes weren't as crispy as I would have hoped as they were a little crowded in the small roasting tray. As is always the case with picky eaters, five of the group divided up four chicken breasts, while me and another feasted on four legs and four wings between us. I also ate both the parson's noses before the chickens even made it out of the kitchen, which is totally the best bit of cooking for seven.

Monkfish tail with prawns, potatoes and a dollop of caviar

We did go out a couple of times, and I nearly always went for seafood. I scored a decent monkfish tail (with a tiny dollop of caviar on top!) in Portals Nous, and a good attempt at paella in Santa Ponca. In Portals Vells, I had some sickly sardines, but they passed the time while the others sunbathed on the beach. I suspect I might be mildly allergic to sunlight, so I prefer to remain pale and interesting.

Paella with whole langoustines, prawns and mussels

While I don't get Italian food, I love Spanish food, and was disappointed we didn't manage to get to a tapas bar or two. I did get a few cafe cortados though, which is always good. A cortado is similar to a macchiato, in that it is an espresso with a dab of milk, but a cortado uses warm milk, while a macchiato uses foamed. I also tried an ensaimada, a typical Mallorcan pastry, which reminded me of the faworki my Polish grandmother used to make me 20 years ago. A crisp, sweet pastry, where filling and toppings are an optional extra. I think an ensaimada is baked, so the texture was fluffier, but the taste was almost identical.

Ensaimada and Cafe Cortado

The other Spanish delicacy I tried for the first time was deep fried whitebait. They were quite big, so I'm not sure if they were true whitebait, or just mature specimens. It felt a bit weird eating a whole fish (eyes! brains! bones!) but they slipped down rather nicely. The smaller ones were particularly nice, as the larger bones in the bigger fish were quite bitter.

My flatmate A is English, although his parents now live and work in Spain, so he spends a lot of time out there. We would like to attempt a Spanish meal at home, especially as there seems to be a decent Spanish population in Edinburgh, so many of the ingredients are available nearby. Bring on the pan con tomate!

Food Adventures in Florence: Part I

I am going to admit something now that might totally destroy any shred of foodie credential I have. I don't really like Italian food.

Virtually everyday a post pops up in Google Reader about how someone was craving pasta, and ate it with just some butter and garlic, and it was the best thing ever. Blog after blog raves about roasted vegetables, rocket and parmasan. The shelves of the cookery department in every bookshop groan under the weight of Italian cook books. Every other cookery magazine has an Italian special, and as we approach summer, the Sunday supplements are filled with Mediterranean-style food.

Sure, I'll eat Italian food. I'll even enjoy some pizza. I don't mind risotto. But if I have the choice, I'll almost never choose Italian food. My theory was that it is a cuisine that requires fresh, high quality produce, something we don't get too much of in UK supermarkets. Even good grocers and markets don't always have the right ingredients, as the climate of Britain is just not hot enough to produce a lot of Italian fruits and vegetables. I did also wonder if maybe I just wasn't getting it. Perhaps there was some secret that I wasn't privy to.

T surprised me with an end of uni holiday to Florence. Yay! As well as being excited about seeing some old paintings in the Uffizi, some Italian Gothic architecture, I was excited to try the food. Maybe Italian food in Italy would be different to what we get here? Maybe I would like it?

Sunset over the Arno

The first night we stopped for dinner at a restaurant near our hotel in the Santa Maria Novella district. La Spada is a traditional "spit roast" style restuarant, with all the main courses either grilled or roasted. I went for Gnocchi Bolognese followed by grilled veal chops. T had Penne al Sorrentina and then roast chicken. We also ordered some Tuscan beans, but they mysteriously disappeared (but did not reappear on the bill luckily).

The gnocchi bolognese was good, but I still didn't love it. The bolognese was meaty and unctious, and the gnocchi was tender and pillowy. The portion was small, but still very filling. However, it just didn't do it for me. I couldn't imagine ever craving this dish in the same way I do other foods.

Then came the veal chop. I was in two minds about ordering this, as part of me knew it was probably white veal, which is evil. On the other hand, it was already done and dead*, and I've been wanting to try veal for ages (especially since I found out rose veal is not evil). The potatoes that accompanied it were again technically good, but not very exciting. The veal chop was massive, and I wondered how Italians can manage a starter, pasta course, main course and pudding without feeling physically ill most of the time.

The chop was one of the most delicious things I have ever tasted. The outside was crispy and blackened from the chargrill, but inside was soft, tender, and slightly pink still. The beef flavour was subtler than steak, but still well defined and meaty. I ignored the potatoes and concentrated on eating the veal.

While I am still not converted to the delights of pasta, I am now hankering after another bite of that veal.

We skipped pudding, although I noticed a table opposite having some cantucci. If I can find some vin santo in Edinburgh I might give that a go at home.

*Of course, it was done and dead because they knew someone like me would come in and order it, but if we are getting down that path then it all gets a bit philosophical. Plus from a utilitarian viewpoint, veal is better than just putting male dairy calves down the moment they emerge from the womb. Got to love Ethics A-Level.

Eat Food. Not Too Much. Mostly Plants.

While frantically trying to find a book on Middle Eastern trade regulations in the uni library for an essay a couple of months back, I spied Michael Pollan's "In Defense of Food" on a nearby shelf. I was way too busy to read it then, but I made a mental note to come back to it once exams and essays were over.

As I checked the book out last week, a note flashed up on screen saying that my library card expired soon. So soon, that instead of having the book for a month, I could only have it for 6 days. Is it a little ironic that the first time I ever find a book in the library that I actually want to read, my library card decides to die?

Anyway, I became determined that I would read all 200-odd pages in those 6 days. I know it took me the best part of a year to read "The God Delusion", but I was feeling optimistic. In the end, it only took me about 3 days to read the book. It's the stuff of undergraduate dreams: interesting, informative and well written. (The version I was reading also had a really sexy typeface. Oh yeh!)

Pollan sums up his argument as "Eat food, not too much, mostly plants". He questions the idea that we can be more healthy just by eating more nutrients, saying that fortified cereals and omega 3 diet bars are actually worse for us than just eating simple ingredients containing naturally occurring vitamins and minerals. We also eat too much because we stop when our plate is clean, not when we feel full, and lack a traditional food culture. Lastly, although animal products contain unique nutrients, like B12, we can obtain most of our dietary requirements more efficiently, cheaply and greenly in the form of vegetation.

For a long time, I have being trying to eat more healthily. I have chosen cereal bars over a piece of chocolate, and tried to resist the overwhelming desire to bake stuff. However, in the last year of so, my views have changed. Instead, I have shunned processed goods. I can't remember the last time I ate in McDonalds or Burger King, and don't think I have eaten a ready meal since first year. T recently made me a spaghetti bolognese using a ready made sauce, and it was so bland I wondered what the point was. Why spend £1.50 on Ragu/Dolmio/etc when you could buy a tin of tomatoes and some dried herbs for under a quid? Although I won't touch a ready meal, I'll happily have a big slice of homemade cake and some pork crackling. If the French can eat fatty, delicious food, why can't I?

Reading Pollan's work further convinced me. I had never questioned the idea of nutrition, and had taken vitamin supplements in the past. The idea that processed products are less nutritional makes sense, and going round a supermarket since, I was shocked at how little on the shelves was "food" in the purest form. While I cook most of my meals from scratch anyway, I have since started checking packets to see how processed things like mayonnaise and bread are. After all, the human race has survived for years without vitamin supplements, omega 3 milk and iron enriched water.

Sometimes I wish I could just stand in the supermarket and be evangelical. Tell people picking up ready meals that they are damaging their health, their wallet and the planet by buying it. Bin all the sugary chemical sweets in favour of some really good chocolates and toffees. I would love to turn back the clock and have an independent grocer, fishmonger, butcher and general store nearby. I think the food culture in Britain is burgeoning, but maybe I have a biased view as I actively seek information about food quality and origin?

Pollan's book is not without flaws. Many of his sources are quoted repeatedly, suggesting that some of his ideas don't yet have the diverse range of proof they need. He recommends a traditional diet, but doesn't specify what this means. Do you have to pick the traditional diet of one region and stick to it? Or can I have a roast dinner one night, then a curry, then a stir fry? Although there were a few passages that didn't entirely convince, on the whole I found that Pollan's theories fitted well with common sense. We should enjoy food as a pleasure, not as a fuel to be consumed quickly, alone with the television.

If I had the space, I would plant my own vegetable patch after reading this book. As I don't, I think I'll probably sign up for a vegetable box instead. I'm sick of going to the supermarket and seeing Thai asparagus for sale, when the grocers two doors down has British stuff in fresh.

Most of all, I'd recommend this book to everyone who is suffering at the hands of the Western diet. Anyone who is obese, diabetic, with high cholesterol and blood pressure, or on the brink of heart disease or stroke. I'd also recommend it to those of you who buy the diet range of ready meals, or who eat a special K bar for lunch in the hope that it will help you stay thin. It won't. Enjoy a nice ham and cheese salad and be happy instead.

London Food Adventures Part II

Two places I was quite interested to visit this time were Westfield and Selfridges. I'd never been to Westfield, despite it only being a few stops away by tube, and the Selfridges' food hall has long been one of my favourite places to amble around.

Although I failed miserably in my attempt to find a new pair of jeans, I was impressed by Westfield. Everything was clean and well kept, and the snob in me was pleased that fast food chains had been kept out of the main food area. Instead there was an interesting looking risotto stall, along with a Lebanese bakery, a French rotisserie, Indian tiffin boxes, Mexican wraps and a pho stall. I have heard good things about pho, but the queue was massive. I doubt that it was the most authentic stuff you can find in London, but I thought it was interesting that it had been included in a mainstream food court.

Instead I had a frozen yogurt from the salad bar stand. I totally fell in love with frozen yogurt in Canada last year, and would insist that we got a snack every time we passed a Yogen Fruz. It doesn't seem to have caught on much in the UK, and most places just have vanilla yogurt with some random fruit on top. In Canada, they would have a whole freezer full of fruit, and you could choose your own combination to be blended in to your yogurt. The blender was a specialist piece of kit, that blended, chilled and served the yogurt, with the finished product being neatly piped into a bowl rather than scooped out. If you know of somewhere that does this within 500 miles of Edinburgh I would love to visit!

Frozen Yogurt in Westfield

I also spent some time standing outside Wahaca drooling at the menu. As mentioned in my past London post, I love South American food. If I hadn't just eaten all that frozen yogurt I probably would have been tempted by some churros. If I won the lottery and had an extra stomach that would be great, but until then I have to restrain myself.

I hopped on the central line to Bond Street to check out Selfridges. I always get confused about which is the nearest station, and have to stride along Oxford Street dodging thousands of tourists, but I made it in the end. I wasn't really intending to buy anything, especially not since Le Cafe Anglais ate all my money. I particularly enjoyed the chilled counters, as they had some fantastic looking Middle Eastern food on display, as well as a very well stocked fish counter. The butcher's counter had every cut of meat imaginable, including a pig's head. There was also a "raw food" counter with dehydrated carrot cake, which looked too wholesome to be any fun. I was slightly disappointed by the ambient section, as I was trying to get some orzo for my mum. The pasta section had spaghetti, penne and lasagne, and not much else. Poor show.

As it is Selfridges 100th birthday this year, there were lots of promotional products in the trademark yellow.

Selfridges' Centenary Coca Cola

Another culinary first on this trip was dim sum. I am not majorly in to Chinese food, and I've always been a bit scared by the lack of description, especially when in comes to dim sum. I am less wimpy these days, and more likely to order something without knowing what it is, but I still found dim sum a bit too much of an unknown. My friend E, who I have known since primary school, decided we should visit Ping Pong for dinner. As an introduction to the world of dim sum, I thought this was the gentlest route! Again, while the authenticity of some of the dishes must be compromised, I thought it was great that a fairly niche cuisine could be popular enough to form a local chain. I quite enjoyed the dinner, and I especially enjoyed trying some of the more unusual items such as the steamed buns. I have heard there are a couple of decent dim sum places in Edinburgh, so I'll have to give them a go now I have a bit more confidence!

Lastly, here are the Laduree pictures I promised you last time. Sorry for the rubbishness, my camera is 5 years old with 4 megapixels, so the pictures are not the best quality. It was so snazzy when I got it, and now it just looks lame compared to modern cameras!

Jess and I ordered a box of 8 to share. I got lemon, praline, salted caramel and bergamot, Jess got the salted caramel too. (Annoyingly, I can't remember what other flavours she got, I was too absorbed in the macaron goodness!) We ate the first ones nearby, sitting on the base of a statue of Beau Brummell, while the others got saved for a sunny spot in Soho Square.

Macaron Tower

Lemon is still my favourite, although praline is now a contender. The bergamot was too subtle, and just tasted of almonds. I was looking forward to the salted caramel, so much so that I saved it until the end. However it was over-caramelised in my opinion, tasting a little burnt and bitter. I might try to make some macarons at home soon, as the recipe looks hard but not impossible.

Laduree macarons, and my reflection

London Food Adventures Part I

I came back from London on Thursday, and should have posted this ages ago, but I am lazy and easily distracted by shiny things.

I had a day out with Jess, and we went on a bit of a culinary odyssey.

The Spice Shop

First stop was the Spice Shop in Portobello. They had fresh Kafir lime leaves, which I've never seen before, and every spice blend imaginable. The pure spices came in cute little yellow tins, while the blends seemed to come in bags. I bought some sumac, and noticed that they had beet powder on special offer. I asked if they had any raspberry powder too, and the woman behind the counter seemed shocked.

"What do you want that for!?"
"It's a flavouring and colouring, I wanted to make raspberry meringue"
"I've never heard of it. Could you not just make it at home with a coffee grinder?"

Well, yes, but as mentioned before I am lazy.

I was upset that Books for Cooks across the road was shut, but that was poor planning on my part, as I had totally failed to see the big sign on their website that says they are closed on Mondays.

Black Bottom Cupcake

While meandering back to Notting Hill Gate, we passed the Hummingbird Bakery. We weren't planning on going there, but it was a happy accident. The cupcakes looked very pretty, but I am still suspicious of them. I was impressed that they also had a couple of loaf cakes without icing, as this suggested they actually made good cakes rather than rubbish cakes with shedloads of frosting on. I was tempted by the ginger cupcakes, but went for black bottom instead. I saw this the other week online, but had never heard of it in the UK. It's basically chocolate cake with a dollop of cheesecake thrown in. When it came to the tasting, I was impressed. The chocolate cake was moist, with a light texture, and the dense cheesecake made a nice contrast. These are going on my "bake at home" list.

Jess went for red velvet. While we were queuing up, some other people in the shop were going on about how red velvet is their favourite flavour.

Me: "It's not a flavour! It's just chocolate with red in it!"
Man Behind Counter: "Yes, it is our best seller"
M: "Why is it red?"
MBC: "So it looks nice"
M: "But why?"
MBC: "Just because it looks fun with the white icing"
M: "I don't get it. Why put colouring it when you don't need to?"
MBC: "So it looks pretty, and it's traditional"
M: "I guess I'm just a total killjoy..."
MBC: *silence*

Jess enjoyed the cake, which was very red and pretty looking, although I think she was also a bit baffled as to why it is coloured red. Or maybe I just lectured her into submission. Moving on...

We then went on to Bond Street, where we checked out Laduree and Fortnum and Mason, although Jess has the pictures from then so that will have to be part II of this post.

After all the food porn, we were tired and *hungry*, so we wandered into Soho to check out Fernandez and Wells. Jess had an empanada, which was one of my favourite snacks when I went to South America many years ago. I especially liked the mini deep fried ones, which you usually found at truck stops in the middle of nowhere. This one was baked, but still tasty.

Empanada with chili sauce

South American cuisine is not well represented in the UK, and I still dream of the ceviche I had in Peru and Chile. I had a pastel de nata, which is Portuguese, although I'm sure I had stuff like this in Brazil, so I guess it was imported along with the language.

Pastel De Nata

It was one of those dishes that tastes much better than it looked. I loved the custardy filling, and the pastry was crisp and flaky, which was surprising as for some reason I was expected more of a shortcrust style case. I had a cappuccino, although in hindsight I should have gone for a cafe cortado.

Being back in London made me realise how much I missed the buzz of the big city, and also how poor the Edinburgh food scene can be at times. I guess it is better here than a lot of places, but you don't get the variety and choice that you get in London. Having grown up there, I am used to the noise, crowds and know the tube almost off by heart. While I like the villagey feel of Edinburgh, I sometimes feel like it has all the downsides of city living, but with few of the perks.

Real Food Festival

I am in London this weekend, partly to catch up with friends, but partly because I fancied a trip to the Real Food Festival at Earl's Court.

I booked tickets for the Sunday, and planned to go with my mum. However, she had to work on Sunday, so we decided to sneak in to the trade show on Friday. We had a deli-based cover story, but part of me thinks being a blogger now counts as "trade", especially when you see how many blogs get sent free samples as a promotion tactic. Anyway, enough of my views on whether exploitation of new media as free promotion is ethical or not.

A very extensive tea stall

It was an enjoyable day, and I learnt some interesting stuff about tea, and saw mozzarella being made. I also saw Willie Hardcourt-Cooze being filmed manning his chocolate stall, which was quite exciting. Sadly we missed Fergus Henderson doing a cookery demonstration, but we were too cheap to buy a programme and didn't realise he was on.

Mozzarella curds

Given my "expert" knowledge in food lies mostly within baking, I was particularly interested in the bakeries at the show. There were a couple of bread stalls that looked good, and some great Italian biscuits. The cake stall were generally disappointing, with cupcakes being a major theme. I like making these at home, but I think commercial cupcakes usually suffer from style over substance. On top of that, I even saw one stall that had such poorly iced examples on display that I would have rejected them if I had made them myself.

The real star find was PT's biscuits. Not only were his biscuits delicious, but they used proper ingredients like butter (rather than margarine or oil). The flavours were not particularly revolutionary, but it was great to look at the label and see the same list of ingredients as I'd use at home. No additives, preservatives, weird chemicals - home baked biscuits without the hassle! I also chatted with him for a while and he gave me loads of free samples. I truly believe good baker is a generous one! I hope Paul succeeds.

Cyrus Todiwala

Despite having a great day pretending to run a deli, I still had tickets for Sunday. So I went again with my friend C! We watched Cyrus Todiwala make an Indian meal, before wandering around the stalls. I had a nice hazelnut ice cream, and a pear and cardamom cupcake from one of the more professional looking stalls. The pear filling added moistness, but the icing had dried out a little. The cardamom flavour was also too weak, and the cake mainly tasted of sugar. C had an espresso cupcake that was a bit more successful.

Pear and Cardamom cupcake

Espresso cupcake

We also managed to get a spot at the Bordeaux Quay cookery school stand. We made a fennel and courgette salad, and a cheese omelette. Our omelette was a bit runny, but the salad, which also featured garlic, pine nuts, sultanas, coriander, mint and lemon was delicious. Raw fennel and courgette didn't excite me at all, but the end result was very tasty.

C showing off her chopping skills

The finished salad

My other top find was a Welsh chocolate maker called Hipo Hyfryd. They are nominally vegan, but really in the case of chocolate this just means plain chocolate rather than milk. I got a box of the salt and pepper flavour, which was really unusual and much more interesting than some of the other chocolates on offer on other stalls. I think it might be trumped by lime chocolate in terms of weirdness, but lime chocolate didn't work while salt and pepper most definitely did. Again, they seemed like nice guys and I hope they do well!

I had a really good day on both my visits, but I felt that the show would have benefitted from something a bit more "showy". Most of the festival was a glorified farmer's market, with some of the stands being quite big names, rather than smaller "real food" producers. Although it was great to meet the people who made the food, some stalls had employed temps, notably Rococco chocolate, were most of the girls behind the counter were unable to even speak English, let alone tell you about the chocolate you were tasting. I really enjoyed the cookery school, and the demonstration kitchen, so I think the focus should shift from being about market style stalls to more interactive/instructive elements.

I am such a nerd.

Student Dinner: Home Made Baked Beans

Today was meant to be my last day at university. I had my final exam on Tuesday, and I was meant to pick up my dissertation mark today. Typically, the secretary was ill and the office was closed. I still had dinner planned though.

I had been thinking for a while what I should have. I toyed with the idea of recreating the food I ate in first year, when I lived in halls and ate in the canteen.

For starters, there would be vegetable soup. Only the soup has gone, and your bowl has some mushy vegetables in it. Once we got a serving so unsouplike that it could be scraped up in a heap on one side of the bowl.

Next up would be fish and spring vegetables. Excellent. A nice, healthy, tasty bit of fish. Yum. Here, the catch would be that I would give my flatmate the last piece of fish, and I would have a burrito filled with the mushy vegetables from the soup. No matter what time I got in the queue, the last portion of fish would always go to the person two or three places ahead of me in the line. If I was really lucky, I would treat myself with fried chicken. Except the kitchen has run out of breadcrumbs, so they used breakfast cereal. Not cornflakes though. Rice Krispies. Sweet!?

Finally, dessert would involve me considering a pot of fruit salad, but being put off by the excess of melon and not enough grapes. Over to the dessert specials! As there is that box of Rice Krispies that needs using up, why not make orange jelly, and top it with whipped cream and puffed rice? Why not indeed? *

Talking of Why Not? (a rather expensive and cheesy club favoured by public school types) I'd squeeze on to the dining table with one or two friends, while the rest of the seats were taken up by posh kids discussing whether to go to Why Not? or Opal Lounge. Plus Daddy and Pimsy are coming up on Saturday to watch the rugger. Tally Ho!

Instead I went for the student favourite of baked beans on toast.

Classic.

I made the baked beans yesterday as they took 13 hours to make. You had to soak the haricots for 10 hours, boil for an hour, chop and brown onions, garlic and bacon, then simmer the ingredients in chopped tomatoes for an hour and half. I can't find the exact recipe online but there are loads on Google. I might give some of the others a go, as although mine we nice, they lacked a certain je ne s'ais quoi.

For the toast, I bought a sourdough loaf from Peter's Yard. I love the way the crust is really chewy but the inside is soft with a slight tang to it. (I got kicked out of there the other day as I had been in there for 3 hours studying and they wanted to close! I feel a bit embarassed about this but it is also a bit cool that the staff now recognise me as the person who can make coffee and a cake last half a day.)

On its own, I thought it looked a bit ascetic, so I added a side salad and a portabella mushroom stuffed with peppered cheddar and breadcrumbs. It was a pretty tasty dinner and good for my student budget too!

(*All this talk of the halls' canteen makes me want to go back and review it objectively. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all...)

Salted Caramel Mocha Cookies

In Delicious. this month there is a was an advert for a coffee machine which came with an recipe for cappuccino thumbprint cookies. This got me thinking, and I suddenly became obsessed with adapting the recipe to make salted caramel mochas.

I followed the dough recipe pretty closely, only making a couple of changes to the method. It was the filling that really took time and experimentation. I wanted to make a creamy caramel, much like you get inside a Twix or a Mars bar. Using Leiths, and various online recipes, I made four batches of caramel. All of them were rubbish. The first couple burned, even though I was using a sugar thermometer. The second two I was much more careful with, and took them off the heat well before they were anywhere near burning point. I tried stopping one with cream, but instead it just turned in to a giant lump of hard sugar and some slightly dubious looking brown cream. The next batch I used a combination of milk and butter. This had a better consistency, but was a very dark brown and instead of being smooth and creamy, had a weirdly grainy mouthfeel.

4 attempts at caramel meant that I had run out of sugar, clean saucepans and dairy products. My fingers were covered in tiny burns from boiling, spitting sugar, and I was getting frustrated. Why was boiling some sugar so difficult? I was being attentive, monitoring the temperature, and not stirring too much. The part of me that thinks I am a good cook suggested that it was a combination of a dodgy electric hob and a cheap, thin saucepan. The part of me that wants to be a good cook thought I was probably stirring too early, heating too quickly, and getting distracted too easily.

While searching online, I found a recipe for millionaire's shortbread. Looking at the picture, it seemed that was exactly the type of caramel I was looking for. A baking community I posted on also suggested a similar recipe. I noted down the ingredients, and went to bed. That night I dreamt of caramel. All of my dreams featured it in some way. I dreamt of bubbling sugar, liquid in the pan but solid on the counter. I was surrounded by vast containers of dark, burnt toffee, with curdled cream and butter floating on top. Finally, I dreamt of the millionaire's shortbread, and the promise of a perfect, mellow, soft caramel, interspersed with the crunch of vanilla sea-salt.

The next morning, I couldn't wait to get out of bed. This is a very rare feeling for me! I went off to the supermarket, stocked up on sugar, butter and condensed milk. I was going to crack this today.

I mixed up the ingredients in a pan, playing slightly with the quantities. I stirred as the butter melted, then stirred as I added the sugar and the golden syrup. I kept stirring as I added the condensed milk. And stirred, and stirred. Slowly the texture began to thicken, and the taste became more caramelised. Then some brown lumps appeared. The baking community had warned that it would catch easily. NOOOOOOOOOO!

I whipped it off the heat, and strained it in to a new pan. Luckily, there were only one or two burnt specks, which got caught in the sieve. I turned the hob down to the lowest heat and stirred some more. I stirred for a full 30 minutes. I wasn't even convinced the mixture was thickening properly, and the colour didn't appear to be changing either. Still stirring, I reached over to the sink to get the sieve and the used pan. Only then did I realise how brown my mixture was! The old saucepan was a eggy yellow, but the one I was currently stirring was the colour of tanned skin after a good day at the beach (not my skin though, then it would have been a violent red).

Doing a little victory dance (but still stirring) I poured the caramel in to a bowl. While warm, it was fairly liquid, when cooled it was almost solid, but still pliable. Perfect.

Maybe when I have a kitchen with natural light I will be able to take good photos.

Salted Caramel Mocha Cookies.
Makes 40

Preheat the oven to 180C.

Mix 285g plain flour, 100g cocoa powder, and 2tsp of sea salt in bowl, with 2tbsp ground coffee.

In another bowl, cream 225g unsalted butter with 285g caster sugar. Mix in 2 egg yolks and 2 tbsp cream. Once combined, add in the flour cocoa mixture. Stir gently until combined, then turn out on to a work surface and knead until you have a smooth dough.

Divide the mixture in to 4, and then make 10 small balls from each of your quarters. If you don't want to make the 40 cookies, you can keep the dough in the fridge for a week, or the freezer for a month. Put the balls in the fridge for 2 hours to harden up. If you try to bake them straight away they will spread too much and break up.

Form each of the balls into a shape like a pie shell. You want the edges to be fairly thin, but not so thin that they will crack in the oven. About 5mm is ok.

Bake in the oven for 10 mins, and then cool on a rack. If any of the holes for the filling have risen, then push them down while still soft. While the shells are cooling, make the caramel.

Melt 180g unsalted butter in a saucepan over a low heat. When melted, add 75g caster sugar and stir until dissolved. Then add 2 tbsp golden syrup, and stir until combined. Finally, add in a can (397g) condensed milk, and stir continuously. When the mixture is golden and thick (and tastes caramelly) remove from the heat into a clean bowl. Stir in sea salt to taste. I used about 30g of vanilla sea salt, but I like my caramel SALTY.

Filling the shells

Once the caramel has cooled slightly (but is still liquid enough to pour easily) and the biscuit shells have hardened, fill the shells with caramel. Mine took about a tablespoon of caramel per biscuit.

Lots of filled shells

Finally, melt 200g white chocolate and spoon this over the caramel, smoothing out the edges so the caramel is hidden. Make it pretty with a dusting of cocoa powder.

Dining alone

I am probably one of the few people in the world who prefers to eat out alone. I know this makes me sound like a misanthrope, but let me explain...

I tend to eat out for lunch, partly because I can't afford dinner, but mainly due to my forgetfulness on the packed lunch front. I have good intentions, but I prefer to come home for a hot lunch, especially in the cold weather. However, the distance I live from uni, plus cooking times, means that to get a decent lunch I need a two hour gap. What tends to happen is that I forget about a project meeting, a tutorial overruns, or I end up spending longer than planned looking for a book in the library. Suddenly my two hour gap is gone and I decide to get lunch out. (Actually, it's probably raining and I'm grumpy and can't be bothered to walk home.)

I've realised in the last year or so that going for lunch alone is usually better than trying to get people to come with me. I like to try new places, whereas a lot of my friends always want to go to the same place (a rather nice falafel take away, but there is only so many chickpea based dishes I can take). I also don't like having to deal with other people's food issues. My sister has a lot of food allergies, and my brother is picky, so as a family there were only a few restaurants we visited. It's marginally better now we are all grown up, but when they came to visit me in Edinburgh last summer I spent at least an hour online researching menus to find somewhere everyone could eat something.

The other day I went out for coffee with my flatmate. The cafe is one of my favourites, and I was looking forward to relaxing with a cappuccino and and a delicious baked good. Instead, my flatmate went up to the counter, decided it was too crowded, and ordered to take away. We sat outside in the drizzle and wind, trying to eat cake out of a cardboard box. Then she complained that the icing from the cake had made her hands sticky and that the cake was too hard to eat as it was crumbly. If I'd had my way, we would have waited two minutes for a table, and enjoyed our cake from a plate with a fork.

I also hate it when people complain about the price. If I wanted to eat with the bare minimum of cost, I wouldn't be eating out in the first place. Obviously some places are better value than others, but for me, the price consideration includes the quality of the food. Peter's Yard in the Meadows is probably more expensive than many other coffee shops, but the coffee is easily one of the best in Edinburgh, and the food is much higher quality (and more interesting) than the many other coffee shops serving up ham and cheese paninis and mediocre coffee. When the difference between the total bill is a pound or two, the extra quality in the food is worth that to me. I don't want my enjoyment of a well cooked meal with good ingredients being ruined by someone who just sees food as "fuel" complaining that Burger King does a 99p deal that would have been better.

I suppose it's not really because I don't like eating with other people, it's more because lunch is an important thing for me. I don't have enough money to eat out as much as I would like, so when I do go it's a treat. I don't want my treat spoiled by other people not appreciating it in the same way I do. It's the same kind of feeling as when somebody hates your favourite book or film. I want to enjoy my lunch, and I want the people I'm with to enjoy it too. I don't want to worry about money or other "real world' problems. I want to eat a bowl of soup with some bread, drink a decent coffee and dream that one day I could do something foody instead of just overly savouring my lunch breaks.

I need to find myself a lunch buddy. In first year, I went out for lunch every week with a friend, but that has tailed off a bit now as our schedules don't match up in the same way they did. I guess I should also make the most of lunch out while I can, the job I have got for September is in an office in a business park so opportunities for eating out are limited to a burger van and the on-site canteen. Then I really will have to work the packed lunches!

Still ill and ongoing guilt

I have been ill for the past 6 weeks, and it is making things very difficult. I am feeling a bit better lately but I'm still not completely over it. I have an extension on my dissertation and coursework, but as I am still ill it still isn't moving as fast as I would like.

As I lost my appetite, I have barely cooked anything over the past few weeks, plus I didn't want to bake anything sharable in case I spread my germs around.

At the weekend I had a craving for custard, so ended up with 6 egg whites leftover. I'd noticed in "Paris Sweets" that there was a recipe for financiers, which only used egg whites.

The main problem with living in a flat share is that ingredients disappear. I had bought enough butter to make these specially, but when I came to make it, there was only 150g left. I used this to make beurre noisette and topped it up to 180g with vegetable oil. That was the only real mishap, and the rest of the recipe went smoothly, although I used muffin tins rather than the traditional ingot shapes.

I am not a massive fan of almonds, but was pleasantly surprised by the way they turned out. They had a similar taste to madeleines, but the texture was the best part. Outside was crispy and a touch chewy, but inside was soft and fluffy. I have some egg whites in T's freezer, so I will defrost them to make this again soon. I saw a variation on the internet that used ground hazlenuts instead of almonds, which is a very intriguing prospect. I managed to find some ground hazlenuts at the local health food shop, so will be giving this another go sometime soon.

I was also very excited to see Falko making a baumkuchen on "Rachel Allen's Bake" tv show on Saturday. It was cooked on a spit!

Neglect

I am sad that I haven't been able to spend enough time on here lately. Everything has happened at once and I have been quite ill. I knew it was bad when even the thought of food didn't excite me anymore.

I am feeling a bit better now, although I am fairly sure I will miss the dissertation deadline. You can't get an extension and have to gamble that your excuse will be accepted and they won't slap a late penalty on you.

I am making baked hot chocolate to cheer myself up.

Dissertation woes

The dissertation is looming, and I haven’t had much time this week. I’ve even resorted to taking a packed lunch to uni so I don’t have to lose an hour of study time walking home for lunch!

I’ve still found the time to make a few things, mainly to cheer me up between the seemingly endless bouts of reading government strategy papers.
- Tea bread, mainly to use up loads of dried fruit that had been in the cupboard too long. I think next time I might soak the fruit in Lapsang Souchon to give it a different spin.
- Roasted vegetable and feta tart. I still don’t like feta cheese though.
- Lemon Buttermilk pie. My flatmates were having a chilli evening, and we wanted an authentically tex-mex dessert. Google told us buttermilk pie. It was a bit like an English egg custard tart, but lemony instead of flavoured with nutmeg.
- Canadian pancakes. We had vast quantities of buttermilk left over from the chilli night, and buttermilk is not an ingredient that crops up much in British food.
- Lentil, bacon and roasted winter vegetable stew. Took this in to uni in a thermos flask and looked like a total nerd.
- Raspberry and vanilla muffins. This was to use up some raspberries I had in the fridge, as well as the seemingly endless amount of buttermilk. They were a tad dry so I topped them with some sweetened cream cheese.
- Chicken, lemon and tarragon soup. One of the success stories for the NCG book of soup.
We still have some buttermilk left, so I might make some scones, or marinate some chicken drumsticks with herbs.

I also enrolled on a sugar-paste modelling class, partly with the idea of making some kind of topper for D’s wedding cake. At the moment we are learning to make carnations and lilies. I need to practice with icing too, although she hasn’t worked out what flavours she wants yet so I can’t choose which type of icing would go best.

I’ve only got 25 days of my dissertation left and I cannot wait!

The £7.42 Chicken Challenge: Part I

I think one of the worst things about the food culture in Britain is cheap meat. Traditionally, meat has been a treat. It is meant to be more expensive than other ingredients.

When you look at how meat is produced, it's obvious why meat is expensive. To grow some vegetables, fruits, grains or pulses, I can sow some seeds, and then just leave them until harvest time. Rain will water them and birds and insects will help fertilize the plants and eat pests. A totally natural approach probably isn't the most reliable, so I might invest a bit of time and money in putting down compost or soil nutrients, or weeding the field. I might also water the fields, or use pesticides to maintain my crop. By ultimately, I can pretty much leave the plants to their own devices and they will produce food for me.

If I want to get some chicken, beef, pork or lamb, then it is much more complicated. I have find a shelter for the animals at night, and protect them from predators. They might need a lot of land to roam on, with special plants growing on it, or special areas like dirt baths or muddy patches. I have to ensure the animals are fed everyday, and look after their health. I also have to make sure they breed, so I'll have some animals to farm next year. Animals take up a lot of time and effort, and eat the plant crops that I could be eating. Therefore, the yield of meat from animals will be more expensive than plant based food.

In the supermarket the other day, I had a choice of three chickens. One was organic, free range and expensive. For a 1.8kg bird, the price was over £11. There was a value chicken, that at for 1.8kg, only cost £3.40. There was also a free range chicken, that was corn fed, for £7.42. I went for the free range one. I would have paid around £7 just for 2 free range breasts, so paying an extra 42p for the legs, wings and carcass was a good deal.

While I am not totally convinced by the benefits of organic produce, I am convinced by free range. I don't think animals have rights per se, and I would never become vegetarian for ethical reasons. However, I do think animals should be looked after, and not made to suffer just because we are top of the food chain. A quick look around small holder websites reveals that you can't really even feed a chicken for £3.40, let alone look after it properly. Commercial farmers will buy in bulk and have lower costs, but still, it does not bode well. If an animal is going to die so I can eat it, I want it to have had a decent life, with good quality food, outside access, and enough time to mature properly and not killed as soon as they are heavy enough to go to the supermarket.

I know to some extent that you can't be sure about what you are eating unless you have farmed it yourself, and I would prefer to buy all my meat from the farmer's market, where you can talk to the people that raised the animals about the conditions in which they were kept. One of the few good things going for Britain in terms of mass market food is that we do have stricter farming regulations than most of Europe, so a cheap British pork chop is better than a cheap European one, but I still think most forms of intensive farming should be banned, and people should be forced to accept that meat is not cheap.

So now I have my mid-price happy chicken, I need to make sure I get the most out of it. First off, a roast dinner!


We ate most of a breast and a leg with the roast dinner, and shredded the rest of the meat for use later in the week. I also saved most of the fat, skin and all the bones to make stock with.

The Chip Thesis

As a student with not much money, I am forced to eat in some pretty poor places. While I love a good lunch, the places near uni that are a) cheap and b) cheap aren't always the most inspiring. There are exceptions, and I have a theory for how to find (some of) them.

A lot of the places we end up in serve burgers. I do like burgers, but the combination of mince and lots of sauce means it is easy to disguise poor quality ingredients and bad cooking. Burgers usually come with chips. Chips are theoretically quite easy, as you just chop up some potatoes then fry them. However, bad chips are very common and possibly one of the most disappointing things ever. I'm thinking of on the way home after a few drinks, and you buy a bag of chips and tuck in... and they're so bad.

The perfect chip, in my opinion anyway, should be chunky. That way you get more of a contrast between the crispy outside and the soft centre*. No matter how fat the chip is, it is imperative that the outside is crispy and the centre is soft and smooth. Also, you can nearly always tell if the chips have been frozen as they go floury inside, and have an almost metallic taste. If they are not crispy then the oil wasn't the right temperature. Chips represent a bellwether for the rest of the food. If they can be bothered to use fresh chips in the right oil, then they've probably got good meat in the burgers and won't disguise it with rubbish sauce.

So the moral of this story is always steal one of your dining partner's chips before you commit to lunch...


*I will devour a plate of shoestring chips if necessary.