Food glorious Food

Maybe if I blogged about cooking rather than current affairs I wouldn’t upset people. Except I would. Someone once told me it was insensitive to blog / brag about foie gras and truffle oil when people are relying on food banks. In that case, maybe I shouldn’t write about hiking because some people can’t walk very far. Maybe I shouldn’t discuss art or literature or philosophy or string theory because not everyone is fortunate enough to have had an elitist education. Maybe I shouldn’t use the word elitist because the concept of elitism is probably offensive.

It’s the vegans I’d upset the most. I lurve meat and am about to write about melt-in-your-mouth meat recipes. Indeed, I’ve already mentioned foie gras, which I do admit is cruel to geese so I actually don’t eat it but I lurve winding people up. Oh, do calm down, Drearies. I know my sense of humour is a character flaw, but it’s a less unappealing one than subscribing to cancel culture or sense of humour failures. And what about them truffles, eh? They might be meat-free, but we use pigs to forage for them, then we eat the pigs. There’s an Animal Farm joke in there somewhere.

On with the cooking. I am, in fact, Queen of the Leftovers as well as Queen of the Waste Not Want Nots – I once got eight meals out of one guinea fowl – so families on a tight budget would do well to sit up and take note. The other day I found a bag of cheap cubed lamb in the back of the freezer. No idea when I bought it, which is a good indication that I should eat it up pretty darn soon. Wanting to try something different, I flicked through my recipe books and found a casserole of lamb and rhubarb, which was great because I also have some rhubarb in the freezer that I should eat up before this year’s crop ripens. But lamb and rhubarb? Errrrrrr. I mentioned it to Hubby, who’s not known for his discerning palate, and even he said Ummmm. I ditched that idea.

In the fridge, I found onions, limp celery, chicken gravy from last Sunday’s roast chicken, a couple of dodgy parsnips, and half-a-can of sweetcorn. Cooked in a slow-cooker for hours (thus saving on electricity) I served it with two-week-old potatoes and the scrag end of a cabbage. Delish! And cheap! And no waste! The killer punch was delivered by the spices – my idea – a pinch of Chinese (is that racist?) five spice and a pinch of cinnamon. The five spice powder is past its use-by date so I’m adding a bit whenever I can rather than waste it. See what I mean? Queen (is that transphobic?) of the Waste Not Want Nots. And there’s one helping left over.

Sunday evening was also a triumph. It was Hubby’s birthday and his favourite meat is venison. I read somewhere (might have been in the Daily Mail so better take it with a pinch of five spice) that venison is in such plentiful supply these days, the price has dropped and they’re handing it out in food banks. Someone forgot to tell my butcher about the price drop because his loin was eye-wateringly expensive. 

I thumbed through a Clarissa Dickson Wright book for inspiration. Clarissa (RIP) was loathed by vegans, urban-centrics and lefties because she was a meat-advocate, supported hunting and field sports, and talked posh. Ergo, I loved her. One recipe I liked the sound of called for some sort of a compote of blood oranges that needed to infuse for three weeks. Hubby’s birthday was, like, today, so I had to improvise. In my pantry were the remains of a jar of last year’s rhubarb chutney (rhubarb everywhere in this house) which was of equal tanginess with the orange compote. I sealed the loin in butter and oil, sauteed half-an-onion (the other half will probably end up grated on my Weetabix), stirred in the chutney, threw in the odd splash of red wine so the sauce didn’t get too thick and served it rare with more ruddy old potatoes, carrots and asparagus, all British produce. 

Oh, my giddy aunt! I really ought to go on MasterChef, but my presentation skills leave a lot to be desired. Where a proper chef would clean up any splashes on the plate with paper towel, I leave them where they are because a) it’s all food and b) that paper towel is yet more waste.

So what’s for supper tonight? The remains of the lamb casserole mixed with butterbeans to stretch it to two portions. 

See? Queen of the Leftovers or, under the circumstances, Queen of the Has-beans.