A vat of chickpea, carrot and spinach curry cooked up yesterday inspired me, for some unknown reason, to make some pasties with the leftovers. Today it seemed less of an appealing prospect, with the messy and tiresome dough-making process that may or may not succeed...
But wait! What's that? You looked up pastry making in all your recipe books and randomly selected the one that actually worked?! YES! It's true. You can make pastry without fear, without gungy hands, and without even breaking a sweat, thanks to Nigella Lawson. The woman is a genius. I've always liked her 'just chuck it all in then eat it like you mean it' approach, which is maybe why I picked her method out of all the others I looked at.
First genius stroke - put all the ingredients in the freezer for 10 minutes before starting. (Ingredients, for me, being 300g white spelt flour and 150g dairy-free marg - you just need twice the amount of flour to fat.) I sort of knew this already, but it really does make life a lot easier. Second, really amazing true genius stroke: put the flour and the fat into the food processor. Honestly, who knew it could be so easy? No craggy, gluey hands, no aching arms, no margarine all over the place. Add a bit of water (with lemon juice or vinegar and salt added) in small increments until the dough is almost holding together, then take the dough out of the machine, wrap it in a bag and put it in the fridge for 20 minutes. True, I left mine in for more like an hour due to some Scrabble-related distraction, but when I took it out, the woman was right! Even if you added a but too much liquid by mistake (it's almost as though she was talking directly to me...), there was 'a dough that anyone can roll out'. Incredible.
I was impressed just with the food processor bit (I mean really, I've had a food processor all this time and I didn't know how much hassle I could be saving myself?!), and then with the smooth, lovely, cool, pliable dough that came out of the fridge - but the most impressive part? Naturally, the post-cooking eating part! Thin, flaky, crisp, but with maximum stuff-holding capacity.
Take heart, all thou pastry naysayers! It can be done.
Wednesday, 16 June 2010
Basilicious!
That's what I should call the smoothie I made this morning when I finally write that cookbook.
Two kiwis, one banana (all slightly too ripe for eating but perfect for smoothies!), three large basil leaves, a dollop of plain soya yoghurt, a splash of water and some raisins for good measure. It could probably stand more basil as it was a very subtle flavour, but I didn't want to overdo it on my first try and ruin the whole thing!
I've also heard that pineapple and basil is something of an experience, so I shall have to keep my eyes peeled for reduced pineapples!
Two kiwis, one banana (all slightly too ripe for eating but perfect for smoothies!), three large basil leaves, a dollop of plain soya yoghurt, a splash of water and some raisins for good measure. It could probably stand more basil as it was a very subtle flavour, but I didn't want to overdo it on my first try and ruin the whole thing!
I've also heard that pineapple and basil is something of an experience, so I shall have to keep my eyes peeled for reduced pineapples!
Sunday, 2 May 2010
Cold sore magic!
Cold sores: the mere mention is enough to strike fear into the hearts of sufferers! Ever since I can remember I have been afflicted with these fuckers, sometimes appearing two at a time, or one after the other in a continuous stream of pain and ugliness. And I have tried everything. My dad used to tell me to keep licking it and the saliva would make it go away. How wrong could he have been! This is the worst thing to do. Well, almost, along with picking, itching, poking, etc.
The best lesson I have learned over the years is: DO. NOT. TOUCH. IT.
At all.
The minute you put finger to tingle, that nasty, spiteful little virus will come flocking to the surface in a cornucopia of red, swollen, liquid-filled blisters, rendering you frustrated and cross for the next two weeks. If you can resist the urge to touch, the blisters will be minimal and the whole ordeal will be over far sooner- not to mention minimising the risk of a second infection by spreading it inadvertently across your face. The other thing I should point out on this note is do not use any kind of lip balm while the poisonous pustules are there. It too will become infested, and the next time you come to use it, guess what? Yep. I don't need to elaborate.
But now, the real purpose of this post is actually to share with the world a wondrous discovery that I hope will ease the horror for all sufferers! And here it is.
Tincture of Myrrh.
Press a tissue or a piece of cotton wool soaked with a few drop of it to the afflicted area for 30 seconds or so (it will sting, if it doesn't you need to press it on for longer), every few hours. The alcohol in it will dry it out, and the myrrh is a strong anti-viral, reducing the swelling and irritation and the life of the beast. I managed to get rid of an uber-sore in a week with this method - normally that would be two or even three weeks start to finish! It would probably have been less if I'd figured out the technique sooner - to start with I was just applying drops of tincture directly onto my lip, which was actually annoying it more because the pipette poked it a little bit and made it extra itchy.
I've read about people doing this with nail polish remover, which sounds completely horrifying! It's the same theory though, drying it out with alcohol - the difference being that acetone is extremely toxic and poisonous if consumed, whereas tincture of myrrh has beneficial effects and will not harm you if you accidentally swallow a bit. I know what i'd rather go for!
The best lesson I have learned over the years is: DO. NOT. TOUCH. IT.
At all.
The minute you put finger to tingle, that nasty, spiteful little virus will come flocking to the surface in a cornucopia of red, swollen, liquid-filled blisters, rendering you frustrated and cross for the next two weeks. If you can resist the urge to touch, the blisters will be minimal and the whole ordeal will be over far sooner- not to mention minimising the risk of a second infection by spreading it inadvertently across your face. The other thing I should point out on this note is do not use any kind of lip balm while the poisonous pustules are there. It too will become infested, and the next time you come to use it, guess what? Yep. I don't need to elaborate.
But now, the real purpose of this post is actually to share with the world a wondrous discovery that I hope will ease the horror for all sufferers! And here it is.
Tincture of Myrrh.
Press a tissue or a piece of cotton wool soaked with a few drop of it to the afflicted area for 30 seconds or so (it will sting, if it doesn't you need to press it on for longer), every few hours. The alcohol in it will dry it out, and the myrrh is a strong anti-viral, reducing the swelling and irritation and the life of the beast. I managed to get rid of an uber-sore in a week with this method - normally that would be two or even three weeks start to finish! It would probably have been less if I'd figured out the technique sooner - to start with I was just applying drops of tincture directly onto my lip, which was actually annoying it more because the pipette poked it a little bit and made it extra itchy.
I've read about people doing this with nail polish remover, which sounds completely horrifying! It's the same theory though, drying it out with alcohol - the difference being that acetone is extremely toxic and poisonous if consumed, whereas tincture of myrrh has beneficial effects and will not harm you if you accidentally swallow a bit. I know what i'd rather go for!
Tuesday, 27 April 2010
Blending frenzy!
I've been trying to up the raw content of my diet lately, which means: smoothies! Yum yum. Trouble is, I have a rubbish blender. In fact, it's not even a blender, it's a food processor with a liquidiser attachment. Sadly it has trouble liquidising even so much as already-cooked soup, but we do our best.
Regardless of this handicap, and in anticipation of the new (well, second hand) super (or should that be souper?!) duper blender I have purchased from ebay and now wait for with bated breath, I have been having some fun breakfast/lunch/snack times throwing various ingredients recklessly into the liquidiser in search of delicious combinations, and ignoring the fact that I have to eat the results with a spoon. Yesterday I made two constrasting drinks - first was orange, apple and ginger, which was tasty and refreshing, though it could have done with a little more ginger as mine had got a bit dry. Second was a more porridgey-breakfasty protein-rich number that I found particularly pleasing. It contained, if I can remember it all, oats, wheatgerm, almonds, oat milk, a banana, two little apples and some raisins - and a teaspoon of maca for extra goodies!
This afternoon, in a moment of listlessness, I decided to get Aztec with some chocolate powder - I warmed up a mug of oat milk and put it in the blender with 3 teaspoons of unsweetened cocoa powder (I'm going to sound like I've been sponsored here, but this stuff from Equal Exchange is just so good! Dutch processed and everything), a teaspoon of maca, a teaspoon of flax seed powder (a mistake in a blender that can't crush a boiled potato - it just wound up unpleasantly bitty!) a pinch of both cinnamon and ginger powder and a spoonful of agave nectar. Now that's what hot chocolate should taste like! Next time I might even throw a little bit of chilli powder in there too.
It's going to be at least three weeks until I get my, dare I say it, whizzy, new blender - how will I ever contain myself!? I'm also slightly upset that I haven't been able to get more blending-related puns into this post. Suggestions welcome.
Regardless of this handicap, and in anticipation of the new (well, second hand) super (or should that be souper?!) duper blender I have purchased from ebay and now wait for with bated breath, I have been having some fun breakfast/lunch/snack times throwing various ingredients recklessly into the liquidiser in search of delicious combinations, and ignoring the fact that I have to eat the results with a spoon. Yesterday I made two constrasting drinks - first was orange, apple and ginger, which was tasty and refreshing, though it could have done with a little more ginger as mine had got a bit dry. Second was a more porridgey-breakfasty protein-rich number that I found particularly pleasing. It contained, if I can remember it all, oats, wheatgerm, almonds, oat milk, a banana, two little apples and some raisins - and a teaspoon of maca for extra goodies!
This afternoon, in a moment of listlessness, I decided to get Aztec with some chocolate powder - I warmed up a mug of oat milk and put it in the blender with 3 teaspoons of unsweetened cocoa powder (I'm going to sound like I've been sponsored here, but this stuff from Equal Exchange is just so good! Dutch processed and everything), a teaspoon of maca, a teaspoon of flax seed powder (a mistake in a blender that can't crush a boiled potato - it just wound up unpleasantly bitty!) a pinch of both cinnamon and ginger powder and a spoonful of agave nectar. Now that's what hot chocolate should taste like! Next time I might even throw a little bit of chilli powder in there too.
It's going to be at least three weeks until I get my, dare I say it, whizzy, new blender - how will I ever contain myself!? I'm also slightly upset that I haven't been able to get more blending-related puns into this post. Suggestions welcome.
Wednesday, 10 March 2010
Puddingy goodness
I just created a new and completely delicious pud out of desperation for something sweet after dinner this evening - I'm so dead tired after working at the wood shop all day I really needed some sugar supplies!
My initial plan, formed under the duvet, was to mix sultanas and oats with the bit of soya yoghurt left in the fridge, and add something sticky like syrup. Gaving made it downstairs, found an appropriate receptacle (difficult and potentially plan-scuppering tasks) and poured out some oats, I opened one of my kitchen drawers to retrieve the raisins and ponder the something sticky. This is where I had the brainwave that turned it all around. Cocoa powder. I shook out a generous helping over the oats, scraped the remains of the yoghurt over and mixed it up. It didn't taste nice. Then I remembered the wonder-substance waiting quietly in the fridge... Maple syrup! A generous splosh and a good handful of raisins were the transformative ingredients.
The resulting smooth/chewy/chocolatey/fruity pudding was exactly the right thing. I think next time it would benefit from a sit in the fridge to properly macerate - and perhaps a few slivers of crystallised ginger...mmm...
My initial plan, formed under the duvet, was to mix sultanas and oats with the bit of soya yoghurt left in the fridge, and add something sticky like syrup. Gaving made it downstairs, found an appropriate receptacle (difficult and potentially plan-scuppering tasks) and poured out some oats, I opened one of my kitchen drawers to retrieve the raisins and ponder the something sticky. This is where I had the brainwave that turned it all around. Cocoa powder. I shook out a generous helping over the oats, scraped the remains of the yoghurt over and mixed it up. It didn't taste nice. Then I remembered the wonder-substance waiting quietly in the fridge... Maple syrup! A generous splosh and a good handful of raisins were the transformative ingredients.
The resulting smooth/chewy/chocolatey/fruity pudding was exactly the right thing. I think next time it would benefit from a sit in the fridge to properly macerate - and perhaps a few slivers of crystallised ginger...mmm...
Friday, 19 February 2010
Clearing out
It's so difficult to do - I know they're just clothes, but I can't part with them without some serious heart pangs. They seem like old friends. Not to mention being completely fabulous. My other worry is that they won't get the price I think they deserve on ebay - and of course they won't, because their value to me is much greater due to my emotional involvement. In an ideal world I'd just give them away to someone who will love them as much as I do. But in this world - I need the money.
I wonder whether listing them alongside each item's personal story will increase their selling power, but I know it'll just make me look like a fool. So instead perhaps I'll put the photos up here as well, with their stories. Then I will have a record of them, at least!
Why am I selling them, this all begs the obvious question.
1. Money.
2. Space.
3. Practicality - I will never wear these things again and it's stupid to hold on to them out of sentimentality.
4. I need to move on.
I wonder whether listing them alongside each item's personal story will increase their selling power, but I know it'll just make me look like a fool. So instead perhaps I'll put the photos up here as well, with their stories. Then I will have a record of them, at least!
Why am I selling them, this all begs the obvious question.
1. Money.
2. Space.
3. Practicality - I will never wear these things again and it's stupid to hold on to them out of sentimentality.
4. I need to move on.
Saturday, 13 February 2010
Review: Sherlock Holmes
It's been a while since I felt compelled to write a review of something, so it seems a little odd that the inspiration should have been a disappointment. Speaking of which, those of you who dislike 'the book was so much better' reviews, look away now. Though I hope to remain above such a simplistic analysis.
Guy Ritchie's attempt to capture the excitement, adventure and subtle homoeroticism on Conan Doyle's marvellously dark and deadpan detective has somehow left us with something like an over-risen cupcake. It stretches too far, the top explodes, and by the time you've taken them out of the oven all you're left with is a structurally catastrophic mess with a hole in the middle you could drive a ten-tonne truck through, only edible due to the compulsive quantities of sugar contained therein.
What I really don't understand about adaptations like this (and there are many of them), is that the original material is so good one really wonders where you could possibly go wrong. Yet somehow - perhaps in the assumption that modern audiences lack the sophistication to appreciate the nuances of immaculately constructed dialogue and a watertight storyline - somehow, so many of our classic works of fiction are cinematically short-changed. This adaptation plays somehow like Sherlock Holmes as written by Chuck Palahniuk on a bad day. Robert Downey Jnr, much as I normally enjoy spending two hours admiring his visage, is not only no Holmes (he's American, for goodness sake!) but brings an extremely irritating, almost 'madcap' quality to the detective that grates the whole way through. Almost as excruciating as Johnny Depp's psychotic Willy Wonka. The frisson between him and the also totally miscast Jude Law as Dr Watson, is transformed into some sickeningly teenage 'bromance' as I believe it's termed. Whilst I did notice snippets of original text slipped in at inappropriate junctures - the set piece about the pocket watch, for example, was paraphrased from one of the books - much of the dialogue lacked the arch precision that makes Conan Doyle's stories so enjoyable to read. The action scenes were lengthy, pointless and distracting, verging on the slapstick; Holmes' periods of isolation and despair were played as comedy; and, most disappointing, there was not even a hint of the classic interplay between the two central characters. Not one single raised eyebrow, not one outburst of 'But my dear Holmes! That's incredible! How on earth could you deduce all that from this one tiny piece of evidence!'. I've made this up, but there's a lot of that sort of thing. I believe Watson is famous for such expostulations. Or he was, at any rate.
No. The campness was all there. And here it is, misinterpreted and misplayed, thrown in for kicks but missing the point altogether. What really disappoints me about this sort of thing, though, is not so much that they've made a slightly sub-standard film out of one of the canons of English Literature - it's not even that a generation of kids will thinks that this is what Sherlock Holmes is all about, a bareknuckle underdog with a neurotic demeanour and a tendency to wind up in destructive Indiana Jones-esque brawls. (And I can see how, if you have no prior experience of Holmes and Watson, that it is probably entertaining enough to satisfy.) It's that it could have been a really great film. Wasted potential is the key here. The styling is all right - the brilliant steampunked design, the cinematography, the costumes - Ritchie certainly cracked the look of the thing. And that might fool a lot of people. But not me. Sorry, Guy.
Guy Ritchie's attempt to capture the excitement, adventure and subtle homoeroticism on Conan Doyle's marvellously dark and deadpan detective has somehow left us with something like an over-risen cupcake. It stretches too far, the top explodes, and by the time you've taken them out of the oven all you're left with is a structurally catastrophic mess with a hole in the middle you could drive a ten-tonne truck through, only edible due to the compulsive quantities of sugar contained therein.
What I really don't understand about adaptations like this (and there are many of them), is that the original material is so good one really wonders where you could possibly go wrong. Yet somehow - perhaps in the assumption that modern audiences lack the sophistication to appreciate the nuances of immaculately constructed dialogue and a watertight storyline - somehow, so many of our classic works of fiction are cinematically short-changed. This adaptation plays somehow like Sherlock Holmes as written by Chuck Palahniuk on a bad day. Robert Downey Jnr, much as I normally enjoy spending two hours admiring his visage, is not only no Holmes (he's American, for goodness sake!) but brings an extremely irritating, almost 'madcap' quality to the detective that grates the whole way through. Almost as excruciating as Johnny Depp's psychotic Willy Wonka. The frisson between him and the also totally miscast Jude Law as Dr Watson, is transformed into some sickeningly teenage 'bromance' as I believe it's termed. Whilst I did notice snippets of original text slipped in at inappropriate junctures - the set piece about the pocket watch, for example, was paraphrased from one of the books - much of the dialogue lacked the arch precision that makes Conan Doyle's stories so enjoyable to read. The action scenes were lengthy, pointless and distracting, verging on the slapstick; Holmes' periods of isolation and despair were played as comedy; and, most disappointing, there was not even a hint of the classic interplay between the two central characters. Not one single raised eyebrow, not one outburst of 'But my dear Holmes! That's incredible! How on earth could you deduce all that from this one tiny piece of evidence!'. I've made this up, but there's a lot of that sort of thing. I believe Watson is famous for such expostulations. Or he was, at any rate.
No. The campness was all there. And here it is, misinterpreted and misplayed, thrown in for kicks but missing the point altogether. What really disappoints me about this sort of thing, though, is not so much that they've made a slightly sub-standard film out of one of the canons of English Literature - it's not even that a generation of kids will thinks that this is what Sherlock Holmes is all about, a bareknuckle underdog with a neurotic demeanour and a tendency to wind up in destructive Indiana Jones-esque brawls. (And I can see how, if you have no prior experience of Holmes and Watson, that it is probably entertaining enough to satisfy.) It's that it could have been a really great film. Wasted potential is the key here. The styling is all right - the brilliant steampunked design, the cinematography, the costumes - Ritchie certainly cracked the look of the thing. And that might fool a lot of people. But not me. Sorry, Guy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)