A Measure of Cups

Not all cups are the same

It came to me suddenly; late one Friday night - cups?  Why do Americans use cups to measure? It's daft if you think about it.  A cup is a cup - is a cup - if it's not a mug right?

A cup, anything from a tiny espresso cup to a big clunky mug - the type my mother refuses to drink out of....

Tea tastes nicer drunk from a china cup.  Espresso must be drunk from a pfaffy little cup that invariably you can't lift without burning your hand.  Builders favour mugs.

How can you bake using a cup?

But then if you really think about it - it's all proportional - except when you want to make a cake for 10 and end up with one for 2.  Should the recipe not include a definition of a cup?  I mean are you to use an espresso cup or a big, ignorant mug?  Is there some covert definition of a cup that us Europeans are not privy to?  I immediately come out in a cold sweat when I try to follow an American recipe.  Even the ingredients have strange names - cornstarch and Graham crackers for heaven sake. 

We also measure bust size in cups.  Do big cups mean more milk?  Who thought of cups as a measurement and why?  Had to be men though because let's face it babies not the best at articulation.

So cups for butter, flour and sugar.  Cups for tea and coffee.  Cups for when you have no glasses and cups for boobs.

Next I am going to write a recipe for making a cake using a bra cup.  And It will be left to the imagination which cup to use, depending on how greedy you are...........

Cup Measures   American Measures  Imperial Measurement  Metric Measurement

Catering Call Up

On a few occasions lately I have been called up to do the catering for family (and friends) occasions.  The latest was my nephew's and godson's First Communion.  Sis was going to get caterers and showed me the menu.  The thing that struck me was the total lack of concept with the dishes on offer.  Anything and everything seems to go.  The usuals - Beef Stroganoff, Beef Bourginion, Chicken Korma, Coq au Vin or as I call them pots of slop.  Standard salads and the usual suspects for desserts.  I maybe am very fussy but I don't think mixing cuisines from lots of cultures together at the same meal works.  The very idea gives me indigestion.

She, in typical sister fashion said "well you do it for me so, since you are so critical"!  So off I popped with the brief - one main "Chicken dish",  a selection of salads and a selection of desserts for 40. 

I did ask should I not cater for vegetarians or non-chicken eaters and was told no "feck them, there will be plenty of salads"!

I decided to do a chicken dish cooked with white wine and a splash of cream but wanted it to look "unanaemic" so chose flageolet beans and spinach to add to give it colour and texture.

Chicken and Bean "Slop"

Chicken breasts (1 breast for 2 people)
1 large onion chopped
2 cloves garlic
3 stalks of celery finely sliced
1 tin of flageolet beans
Small pack of french beans blanched
1 pack of baby spinach leaves (washed, wilted and drained)
500ml chicken stock
2 glasses of white wine
100 ml cream
Handful chopped parsley
Salt and pepper
2 bay leaves
Beurre manié

Sauté the onions, garlic and celery in some olive oil until softened.  Add the stock, parsley, a glass of the white wine.  Add the beans, the blanched French beans sliced, and the wilted spinach finely chopped. Simmer 10 minutes.  Add the cream and season and set aside.

Poach the chicken breasts in enough water to just cover with a glass of white wine and the bay leaves and seasoning.  Bring to a slow boil, turn the heat right down and simmer for 20-30 mins.  Cool and remove from the poaching liquid and cut into pieces.  Retain the poaching liquor to add to the above sauce if needed.

When you want to serve add the chicken to the sauce and heat through.  To thicken use the beurre manié (this is butter say 25g mixed into 50g flour and dropped into the simmering sauce).

Serve with baby new potatoes and a selection of salads. If you are making above and use 6 chicken breasts this will give you approximately 10-12 servings.  Obviously if using more chicken say 12 breasts double up the other ingredients.




I chose to make a salad with black eyed beans and quinoa to "go" with the main.  We also did a pasta salad to keep the kids happy and a big green salad.  Both adults and kids "assaulted" the desserts on offer. More of that anon!

The Tragedy of Memory Loss

Writing this blog has made me realise the importance of memory. Like other senses, it is something we take for granted - until we lose it.   Seeing someone you love lose their memory is a very scary thing.  Almost overnight I have seen my father change from being the human equivalent of a Sat Nav into someone who can't remember the geography of Ireland.  When he goes somewhere out of his own environment he is disorientated and confused.  He now relies on my mother fully and follows her around like a small child, getting distressed if he loses sight of her for a second.

They say that Alzheimers deletes short-term memory and that long-term memory is not affected.  In my father's case this is true up to a point.  He tells us the same stories from the past over and over again but yet he would have difficulty remembering what he had for lunch.  My early memory is terrible and my sisters are always surprised when I say I don't remember things they do.  However, I was blessed with a photographic memory at school.  Something that often got me into trouble.  Seeing my father's memory deteriorate has shocked me into trying to remember the past.  

Apparently memory is like a muscle that needs a work out.  Challenging your brain and your memory keeps it fit and active.  My mother is a great believer in this and regularly does crosswords and reads through her school poetry that she had to memorise as a schoolgirl.  She amazes me when she can still recite verbatim a Shapespeare sonnet learned probably 60 years ago.

I have found that writing has definitely improved my memory.  I wish I had paid more attention in school to grammar and punctuation or maybe I did and can't remember it.  I robbed my mother's copy of Eats, Shoots and Leaves and have learned so much from it. But I have a long way to go.

This is the real "Raison d'être" for my blog.  Invariably, I have found that the memories I find easiest to recall are food-related.

The Length of France

The ferry sailed on a Wednesday evening from Rosslare.  We crossed a pond (literally) arriving on a Thursday evening in lovely sunshine in Cherbourg and hit the road quickly for the start of a long drive to the south.

Chartres Cathedral

The year before we had stayed in Alençon so decided to stay there again. Next day we drove through three cathedral cities Chartres, Orléans and Bourges, making time for a quick visit to each magnificent cathedral. We stopped in Chartres long enough for lunch after a walk around the cathedral. It was memorable in that we did not want the "plat du Jour" so asked for an omelette (on the menu).  Waiter told us we would have to wait 20-30 minutes for it.....and we did.  Talk about customer service. 

Orléans

The Cathedral at Orléans

After lunch it was on to Orléans. It is a magnificent city and statues of Jeanne d'Arc are everywhere.  Apparently it is the 600th anniversary of her birth and lots of celebrations are planned.  We had a walk about and then a coffee in a big square underneath her statue. Then into the cathedral.  I had recently read Ken Follet's The Pillars of the Earth which gives an insight into the difficulties they experienced building these monumental structures with the limited resources they had at the time.  Cathedrals are fascinating to me and a real tribute to the men who slaved over so many years to build them.  I love to wander about inside and try to visualise how they lived at the time and what their lives were like.  Orléans is a beautiful city and one I would like to visit again and spend a day or two in.

Bourges Cathedral at dusk

That night we stayed in Bourges. We found a little restaurant and had a fabulous meal and great wine.  We stayed in the same hotel my son had stayed in on his way back to Ireland last November.  It was central, luxurious and the staff were really friendly and most importantly spoke to us in French.

Approach to the Millau Viaduct

 Then the final leg - the longest part to Pezenas, the lovely old medieval city deep in the heart of the Languedoc over the stunning Millau Bridge (the tallest in the world) passing through the  Massif Central en route.  We drove through miles and miles of agricultural land with acres of rape seed in full bloom. From fruit in the north to gradually vineyards in the south.  When we eventually got to the south the vines hadn't even fully leafed up. 

Clamouse

It was a tiring but very enjoyable few days. Saturday night was spent catching up with old friends and a very boozy meal. The next day Sunday, we were very hungover and everything was pretty much shut.  We went for lunch in a really lovely crêperie and then we spent a pleasant few hours in Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert stopping off for a tour of the caves at Clamouse.

Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert

On Monday we went for a drive in the Montagnes Noire where the already low temperature of 10 degrees plummeted to 1.5 and the ice warning came on in the car.  Other cars coming down out of the mountains had snow on the roofs.  The scenery was stunning but it was way too cold and miserable to get out of the car to take photos.  We had lunch in Neffies in L'Escampette, a stunning meal and the best of the trip, cooked for us by a friend of my son who had just moved back to France having worked in Ballyfin, Co. Laois under Fred Cordonnier.

Canal du Midi at Narbonne

View from Béziers Cathedral

 Tuesday we drove to Narbonne for lunch and had a walk along the Canal du Midi looking at all the boats and barges moored alongside.  Then onto Béziers to yet another magnificent cathedral and views out over the whole of the Languedoc to the Pyrenees. On Wednesday it was back home flying from Carcassonne.  Sad to leave France once again and my son but looking forward to the next road trip.

Sarkozy and the Cup on the Sill

February 2012

We used to gallop down the lane.  It was an old farm access lane  with some abandoned cottages and old farm buildings on it.  For a long time it was perfect for galloping as it had a grassy middle bit and was not surfaced, so was easy on hooves.  Then the Celtic tiger stalked into this rural backwater and people realised that they could sell sites to townies and get big money.  All of a sudden old cottages had signs put up outside that they were seeking planning permission for big ugly dormer bungalows, double-fronted garages, septic tanks etc.

The old disused cottage at the end of the lane before the sharp turn was one such.  The kids used to laugh at the cup left on the window sill.  They used to wonder who had left it and how long it would last.  Surprisingly it lasted years.  It lasted long after the sign seeking planning permission had yellowed and gone brittle.  The sign is still there weathered and faded. 

The kids grew up and grew out of horses and I was busy at work.  Our last dog had been knocked down on the road and I swore I would get no more.  The lane was forgotten.  Then a dog reappeared in my life and I realised how much I had missed having one and getting that welcome when you return home only a dog owner can understand.  Another dog followed and I had to think of routes to walk them where I could let them off the lead to get some serious sniffing and exercise in.  I remembered the lane.  By now it had been partially surfaced and had a huge house built on it.  But the old disused cottage was still there with the mug on the sill. 

On one of my walks I discovered a donkey in it's garden.  He was alone and was only contained by a rope strung loosely across the front of the property.  I called him, not expecting him to react but he ambled over and I spent a few minutes rubbing his ears and talking to him.  I got to enjoy stopping to have a chat with him and tried to remember some carrots or apples as a treat.  I felt he was very lonely.  One day last summer it was hot and when I arrived I saw he had pushed in the front door of the cottage and was lying in the hallway.  It was obviously cool there.  The dogs startled him and he jumped up, skidded and ran out around the back.

Then one day I passed and I couldn't see him.  I ducked under the rope and walked around the back - no sign.  I went into the house and there was a newspaper on the table faded and dated 1974.  There was a cheque book and a few bills on the window sill. But there was no sign of the donkey.  I came out and walked back down the lane in the direction of home.  Surprisingly, I discovered the donkey standing forlornly at the gate of the big, new house.  There were horses in the paddock at the front and he was looking in at them.  His feet were like platform wedges and I realised he had trouble walking and appeared to rock from side to side.  I continued on and met the farmer at the other end and asked him did he know anything about the donkey.  He said the descendants of the owners of the cottage had emigrated to England and were very annoyed at the donkey in their garden as no one had asked to leave him there.  I asked him for the number of the people in the big house.  I returned home and got my car and drove back down.  The donkey was still standing there.  I rang the house and the woman told me she could not let him in as he was a stallion and she had mares.  I said I would take him home but I no longer had a horse box.  I told her he needed to have his hoofs trimmed as he was having difficulty walking.

She then offered to put him in one of her stables overnight as her blacksmith was coming the next day.  I told her I would pay for his feet to be dressed.  Next day she rang and said he was done, so I walked down with a head collar and rope to collect him.  She offered her French au pair to walk behind him and shoo him along.  I put him in the field at the back of my house and he seemed really happy to have company and action.  But then at night, when he was lonely the bellows started and the long foghorn "hee-haw" struck up.  The sound was so loud and echoing I was sure he could be heard in the village over a mile away.  What the neighbours thought is another matter and I was worried they would start to complain.

I asked a friend to lend me a pony to put in with him until I found a home for him.  The pony arrived and the bellows subsided.  I contacted the Donkey Sanctuary and they sent out a lady who explained to me they were full up and I would just have to keep him until they had a vacancy.  Then one day, he and the pony got out on the road and I was terrified they would cause an accident or get injured.  I thought of Twitter and tweeted I needed to find a home for the donkey, who by this stage I had named Sarkozy.  The reason being, he was small, was well-endowed and when I first got him he appeared to have high heels (his feet were so bad).

Sarko meeting Halfpint

The tweet was not noticed so I sent it to a well-known restaurant critic and food writer asking him to retweet it.  He duly did and another food writer messaged me to say she might have someone who would be prepared to take him.   She gave me the name of a man who had a garden centre in Cork and said he would give me a call.  I knew straight away by talking to him he was genuine and Sarkozy would have a good home with him.  He said he would put him in with calves initially and would then try to get a friend for him.  He wanted to put a petting zoo into his garden centre in order to attract more business.  But most importantly he used to have horses and lived on a farm.

A week or so later he arrived to collect Sarko with the food writer and her husband.  They loaded him up and very kindly returned the pony to his own home en route.  They then called in for a cup of tea and we had a great chat.  They promised me they would keep in touch and let me know how he was getting on.  As promised, they have kept me updated with photos of Sarko - at Christmas in a crib in the garden centre, up to his knees in straw with lambs beside him.  He looked so happy and it was a far cry from a cold, lonely cottage garden.

I went down to visit him last February and he recognised me.  He was standing in a field and when I went over he nuzzled me the way he always did looking for treats in my pockets.  Then when I went to leave he followed me.  I was sad to leave him but so happy that he had at last found a good home.  He looked so well in contrast to when I had found him (he had lice and his coat was very patchy from scratching and his skin was inflamed.)  I had treated him before he left me but I hadn't seen the results.  He now had a full, fluffy winter coat. 

Lots of animals have been abandoned and forgotten now the Celtic tiger has slunk off to better pastures and there are abandoned cottages all over the country.  Sarkozy was a lucky donkey to have been abandoned in a cottage with a cup left on the sill, an action that had struck a chord with us all those years before.

Part of the lane remains as it was all those years ago

The cottage boarded up now and the cup is gone

Planning permission sign still up

Fabulous Fish Pie

At this time of year (spring but still cold) when you want comfort food, but don't want a heavy stew-type dish this fabulous Fish Pie is perfect.

I make the potato topping more interesting by adding some celeriac, and whole grain mustard or finely chopped curly kale (obviously when it is in season).


450g mixed fish selection (cod, smoked undyed haddock, salmon)
A good hand full of fresh or frozen prawns, squid rings, muscles (defrosted)
1 large onion
2 cloves garlic
1medium carrot chopped
1 stick of celery chopped
1 leek finely sliced
Sprig of fresh thyme
Chopped parsley
1 bay leaf

50g butter
50g flour
Approx 250 ml milk
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
Salt & pepper

6 good sized potatoes (floury variety)
Either half a celeriac or a good bunch of kale

Firstly sauté the vegetables and herbs in some olive or rape seed oil.  Cover the pan to allow them to cook in their own steam.  If you add them undercooked to the pie they will not cook properly.

In another pan add the fish pieces into enough milk to just cover it and place on a low heat until it just changes colour.  Do not attempt to boil or overcook it.  Defrost the shell fish and squid if necessary and dry off any excess water. Set aside.  Drain the fish and reserve the milk.

Make a bechamel by melting the butter in a pan, add in flour, stirring to cook it for a minute.  Add the milk from cooking the fish slowly and keep stirring until the sauce thickens.  Add more or less milk depending on the consistency.  Add some salt, pepper and the Dijon mustard.  Stand the sauce aside to cool.  When it is cool add the fish and the shellfish.  Add in the cooled vegetables.  Stir gently and transfer to an oven proof baking dish.

Make the potato topping by steaming or boiling the potatoes and celeriac if using.  Mash and add some butter, milk, wholegrain mustard and seasoning to taste.  If using the kale, wash and place in a pan and cook on a low heat as you would with spinach.  Remove when wilted, chop finely and mix into the mash.  Adding some nutmeg gives a lovely flavour.

Pipe the mash onto the fish mixture and place into a preheated oven at 160 deg C until nicely browned and bubbling.  If you ripple the potato with a fork you will get a nice crispy effect.

This fish pie freezes beautifully.  Cut into portions sizes when cool. Then when you don't feel like cooking or are in a rush you can defrost it in minutes in a microwave and reheat.

Tags: Fabulous Fish Pie  Fish Food

A Rant on Food Waste

With a large percentage of the world's population suffering from hunger and malnutrition you would think that the western world would be aware and cognisant of food waste.  You would also think that in times of recession people would be even more conscious.  Well you would think!  However, sadly this does not appear to be so.  For a good number of years including the last few depressing ones, I have been horrified at the amount of waste by individuals and by businesses.  I have seen and heard of people who open their fridge; look at an item and the "use by" or even "sell by" date and casually throw the item in the bin.  Without even opening it or smelling it......

Since I have had contact with chefs, I have also been appalled at the waste in hotel and restaurant kitchens.  My son and my ex-partner - both chefs, have brought me meat and fish trimmings for my dogs.  I was always delighted to receive them, however, increasingly my delight turned to horror at the waste of perfectly good meat.  Huge long pieces trimmed off a fillet of beef.  Equally long pieces cut off a salmon.  These "trimmings" included perfectly lean meat that with a bit of actual trimming could have been minced and turned into burgers, lasagnes, shepherd's pies, fish cakes etc.  A daily budget item on a menu or a special.

I often wonder are managers and owners aware of this or do they approve of it.  Apart from the sheer, wanton waste there is a waste disposal cost.  Is it a case of they do not have the manpower to put in the few hours it would take every week or is it just laziness?   Are head chefs not held accountable for waste?  Can businesses afford to literally throw food away?  I think not; but I am constantly hearing how hard it is to be profitable in a food business, with the excessive costs such as wages, rates, utilities etc.

I have also heard that food businesses cannot donate excess or "waste" food to homeless shelters or the poor in case they are sued for causing food poisoning. Now don't even get me started on how ridiculous our rules on food safety have become, because I think they are a lot to blame for the-check- the-date-and-bin-it brigade.  The human constitution has evolved to withstand a substantial onslaught from germs.  If we hadn't we would have been wiped out a long time ago.  Whatever happened to common sense?  If it looks bad and smells bad then the chances are it is bad.  If not; rely on your taste buds especially if you know your fridge is at the correct temperature and you have handled it correctly from the time you purchased it.  I know one thing - it works for me. 


Tags: Food Waste  Food Reuse  Food