Return to the Drunken Duck

January is so unremittingly grey, isn’t it?  I don’t suppose it helps that I work for the civil service, whose favoured decorating choice of gruel tones matches the current sky exactly.  But the lack of sunshine is beginning to drag – I’ve even taken to swigging a foul tasting iron and vitamin supplement every morning in an attempt to perk myself up.

 

D and I decided that a brief escape somewhere was entirely necessary to soothe away our January blues.  We first visited The Drunken Duck in Ambleside last year on our way to L’Enclume, and, on the strength of a very decent lunch, identified it as a place to which it would be prudent to return.  It turns out that they offer exceptionally reasonable midweek deals and so it was Monday morning found us striking out for the Lake District instead of heading into the office.  Hurrah.

Whilst (being a fully paid up tea drinking typical Englishperson) money is not an area that I like to dwell on too much on this blog, I really do have to marvel at the incredible value offered by the Duck on this occasion. For two hundred and fifty of your English pounds the two of us got not only bed, breakfast and evening meal but lavish afternoon tea on arrival and lunch before departure, arriving home as plumptiously well fed as a couple of foie gras geese (as sadly confirmed by the Scales of Doom the following day).  The quality throughout was unfailingly good – perhaps not haute cuisine but rather warm, generous, heartfelt, extremely accomplished comfort food all served up in a breathtakingly beautiful location.  And there was a pub cat called Dotty who curled up in front of the fire with us while we indulged in a post dinner single malt.  I think there is a room in Heaven that looks a bit like that.

Food wise, as I said, all good.  Afternoon tea, consisting of sandwiches, scones and a variety of cake, was fabulous with passion fruit and chocolate macarons being particular highlights and an appropriately lavish amount of cream arriving to smear on the scones.  I was also gratified to see the delicately trimmed crustless sandwiches.  It's just not afternoon tea if there are crusts.

 

 

Dinner was also excellent.  Our stand out dish of the evening was a kipper scotch egg with brown sauce – a stroke of absolute genius, perfectly executed. 

We shared roast duck for a main course.  The leg, in particular, was intensely flavoursome.  The breast could have been a little pinker for our tastes but it was still crispy skinned and succulent and the accompanying honey roast parsnips were positively ambrosial.

Even our greed has its limits and so we opted to share a dessert – Arctic roll with plums and pink peppercorn meringues.  A good reimagining of a childhood favourite and those fiery little meringues were an interesting addition.

The feeding by no means ended there – we waddled down for breakfast the next morning where we forced (forced, I tell you) ourselves to partake of Eggs Benedict and pancakes with bacon and maple syrup respectively – it simply would have been rude not to do so.  I was all for hunkering down in the lounge with a book at this point but we both felt that it would be a shame to come to the Lakes and not partake of some fresh air – albeit with a side order of drizzle.  So we donned waterproofs and went for a plod around Ambleside.  Which appears to completely shut down in January. 

And then we were back to the Duck for lunch.  I was struggling at this point – four months of Weight Watching has reduced my capacity for gluttony considerably but I (wo)manned up and got stuck in to an absolutely gorgeous smoked haddock and Lancashire soufflé which was feathery enough to allow me to pretend that it was a light option, but, in reality, cheesy enough to be a fitting final hurrah of indulgence.  D opted for cod with Indian spices which looked and smelled excellent.  We turned down pudding regretfully – I had the scales to think about and D had to drive back to Leeds with no time for an afternoon snooze. 

 

I guess it is a real measure of how much we liked it that we started talking about our next visit before we had even left the car park.  We plan to maybe stay a bit longer, research some proper country walks (mainly to build up decent appetites) and continue our on going although sporadic quest to discover if the centre of Ambleside has a decent pub.  The Drunken Duck is an absolute dream of a little bolthole and definitely succeeded in brightening January’s last few dark days.

And, anyway, I want to spend some more quality time with Dotty.

 

 

The Drunken Duck Inn

Ambleside

Cumbria

LA22 0NG

First bump in the road

Weeks 1-17: -34.5lbs
This week: +0.5lbs
Total loss: 34lbs

So, the inevitable happened and today, for the first time since getting my WW groove back at the end of September, my weigh in card has a gain recorded on it.

That it was a fair result, there is no question. We spent most of Monday and a good portion of yesterday overindulging in the Lake District in a beat-the-January-blues mini break. There was no time to pull it back and the relative paucity of the gain speaks volumes for my efforts earlier in the week.

I am also going to pat myself on the back for going along to the meeting at all, knowing full well what the result was likely to be. Certainly in the past I would have been guilty of skipping it. Well done me.

But, of course, there is a slight pang of disappointment at the end of my losing streak. And what Lesley would call the crooked thinking begins to creep in – the “you might as well have one more night off” type of impulse. I am not yet finding it easy to be spurred on by failure, I am a natural sulker and wallower. But, this is a journey and not one that is likely to be short or easy or straight lined. Next week I want to come on here and write that I laughed in the face of defeat and zipped on into that new stone bracket (a pound and a half away now). And I think, I think that I want it more than I want to indulge in further off-piste eating.

MPM: 27th January 2014

 

 

 

I am so enjoying my day to day food at the moment.  As someone who writes what purports to be a foodie blog you’d have thought that was a given.  But I fell a bit out of love with cooking and meal planning in 2013 and it’s lovely to have it back as part of the regular routine.  It is also lovely to be looking forward to all of the yummy things that I am going to be eating in any given week – although possibly slightly sad that on a Monday morning I am already salivating at the thought of my Saturday supper!

 

And, having rhapsodised about rediscovering a love of home cooking, two evenings out of seven this week we are eating out.  Well, I am nothing if not inconsistent. 

 

So, in vague order...

 

Surprise Tatin (leftovers from Sunday night), salad

 

An obligatory soup night

 

A curry night.  I’m cooking a couple of old favourites that I’ve posted on the blog: cumin spiced chicken and a simple, zero point mushroom curry as well as a shallow fried version of these spiced potato “burgers”  

 

Steamed buns (a la Momofuku) with spicy prawn patties

 

Pappardelle with butternut squash and chanterelle mushrooms

 

As always, more meal planning fun over at Mrs M’s.

This time last month...

I can’t believe it is one month since Christmas Day, when I was presented with a New York guidebook in a box.  One month since I discovered, via a series of obscure clues, that my New York based general knowledge is utterly pitiful.  Although would anyone here have known who Allen Stewart Konigsberg was?

 

I’ve primarily talked on here about some of the meals we had.  My thoughts on New York itself are…well.  I’m not quite sure.  It is a wonderful city, and one to which I would (I will) return again and again.  Blisteringly vibrant, it sweeps you up with its sense of immediacy and bustle.  And I love that it feels strangely familiar, where so many of its aspects have appeared so many times on well loved television shows that they’ve become inscribed on my consciousness.   But the scale of it is just so big, so sprawling and yet so soaringly tall, that it can be – it is - overwhelming.  I don’t think I could live there, for all I joked to D about settling down in a Greenwich writers’ commune.

 

But yes, I definitely need to go back.  Aside from anything else (and let’s be really clear what is important here), there are so many things that I never got round to eating!  We were, for example, frustrated in our final day quest for a slice of proper baked cheesecake – the carefully selected bakery had sold out when we arrived (we took some solace from their cupcakes which were very good indeed.

 

Cupcake!

We dipped our toes into the (mayonnaise) pool of NY deli by taking a trip to Katz’s.  It had to be done but I think both of us feel that we wouldn’t go back – while the juicily pink beef in the Reuben sandwiches was, undoubtedly, very good, the sandwiches themselves were not necessarily special enough to counterbalance the slightly scary experience.  Next time, we want to check out Barney Greengrass “The Sturgeon King”, whose deli apparently inspired a couple of the dishes we ate at EMP.

 

Reuben!

I can’t believe I didn’t get round to having a hot dog!  And while we did have pizza, I don’t think it was an example of NYC’s finest.  Mind you, if you want somewhere to escape the press of crowds around Times Square, Osteria al Doge is a welcome retreat and not ridiculously priced considering its location.   Worth going for the deadpan waiter alone.  But in terms of street food in general – a bit of a fail this time around, definitely an area to sample more widely. 

 

Pizza!

Oh, and thank you for the tip Beth, I now actually NEED to sample crack pie.  I may end up making some at home it looks…just…D, meanwhile, quite fancies trying to get into David Chang’s two Michelin star joint.  He is currently buying lottery tickets with feverish resolve.

Weigh In Wednesday: 22nd January 2014

Weeks 1-16: -31lbs
This week: -3.5lbs
Total loss: 34.5lbs

I think I might have to make these posts monthly. While I love the accountability aspect, there are only so many ways that one can write "I stood on some scales. They read a number that represents the force of gravity on my, in relative (although not actual) terms insignificant, person. I was happy/sad (delete as appropriate."

But yes, a good result this morning. Half a pound more and I'll hit the two and half stone mark. One pound more and I'll be into a new stone bracket, which is always a nice milestone.

My daily points allowance is reducing at a rate of knots though. I lost another one this morning. I'm going to have to start being a lot more savvy with my choices - I'm already feeling quite hungry quite a lot of the time and if there is one thing that my brief flirtation with fasting taught me it is that I am not nice to know when I am hungry.

MPM: 20th January 2014

It's the start of the week so it must be time for...


Yes, another Monday has rolled around. Why are weekends so short? Mind you, complaining seems churlish when I had a particularly nice one. I finally got to see my future second husband (professionally known as David Tennant) on stage and very wonderful he was too, although I was unsure about certain aspects of the production (Richard II at the Barbican for the theatre lovers among you). And, after all of the faux medieval excitement, it was home to an absolutely beautiful confit duck leg (thank you, D) and a day of watching Breaking Bad, barely moving from the sofa.

There are currently two separate threads to our meal planning. The first is that the freezer needs a defrost, so I need to try and base as many meals as possible around the contents. This may involve doing a full inventory at some point. What it may not involve is any particular interest or creativity. The second is that we are planning to cook a New York inspired menu for my parents in February and some of the dishes will need practice runs, so may well be popping up over the next couple of weeks.

This week:

Fresh soup (this seems to be appearing a lot of my recent meal plans and it doesn’t make for the most interesting reading, I know, but we just happen to really like fresh soup)

Chicken fajitas (chicken breast and wraps from the freezer, refried beans from the store cupboard)

Spag bol (mince from the freezer)

Corned beef stew (last of our homemade corned beef from the freezer – although fear not, D will be working his magic on a new brisket soon)

Haggis, neeps and tatties with caramelised onion gravy (it’s Burns Night this week!)

“Surprise tatin” from Yotam Ottolenghi’s “Plenty”

More meal planning fun over at Mrs M’s.

Food for Thought: CBT and weight loss

It’s been a while now since I finished my sessions with Earnest Ross and I have been meaning to commit some of my thoughts to virtual paper ever since, but life and Christmas and travelling and all sorts of things got in the way.

 

It has not escaped my notice that since September I have been on the most sustained and successful weight loss drive in the history of this blog.  Not quite the history of Seren – I’ve achieved the nirvana of goal weight a couple of times – but unlike these other occasions I am relaxed, I have eaten out, been on holiday and generally tried to make dieting (I hate that verb but it is the most appropriate in the circumstances) a part rather than the focus of my life.

 

Now this could be down to a number of things.  But I do think it is, in no small measure, down to some of the work that Earnest Ross and I did. 

 

I believe that people who are overweight often fall into one of two, very broad, categories.  There are those for whom nutrition and the actual calorific worth of food are something of a mystery – who genuinely do not know that the whole pizza that they eat for supper contains a day’s worth of calorific content.  Then there are those for whom food and drink are weapons and armour against stress, misery - generally, any negative emotion.  These people know full well the calories in that pizza and they eat it anyway.  And I, and I think many of the people who read this blog, fall firmly into the latter fold.

 

Now there are many lessons to be learned about identifying the cycle of emotion, thought and action that lead to people making these destructive decisions.  And we talked a lot about self compassion and the strength and conviction it takes to practice it.  But, for me, the thing that really stayed with me is something Ross said in one of our later sessions.

 

He said: “We need to hold our stories loosely.”

 

I love that phrase.  I love the idea of holding my stories loosely.  The stories of my past. The fact that I have always been “the fat girl” in my head and the sad floundering when I wasn’t, physically, her anymore and didn’t quite know what to do with myself.  The stories of disappointments in love, of career paths that didn’t quite wend the way I expected them to, of confounded expectations.   They are there, lightly clasped in the palm of my hand, but they none of them define me or my future.  I do not have to do what I have always done, or to seek solace where I have always sought it.

 

And while I am not so naïve as to think that the battle is over and done with, still I feel the most tremendous sense of optimism, especially at the beginning of a brand new year, that by holding my stories loosely it will give me the strength and the freedom to write shiny new ones full of health and hope.

Foodie Abroad: Third Avenue Alehouse

Given that we were going to be in New York for New Year, we initially pondered the possibility of going the whole hog and spending it in Times Square.  We were quickly disabused of this notion.  It’s horrible, we were told.  You arrive at five, you’re not allowed to carry liquids, you can’t leave to go to the loo, it’s cold, it’s crowded, it’s unpleasant.  I think that we were both secretly quite pleased to let go of the scheme and resolved to spend the evening in a warm bar instead, watching the ball drop on the TV.  And we went to see the spike that the ball would be on.  So that counts for something.

 The Third Avenue Alehouse did not look like anything special from the outside but it was a couple of blocks away from our hotel, and we popped in on the way back from a long day of museums not expecting anything in particular.  But by a very happy accident, as sometimes happens on holiday, it turned out to be one of our favourite locations and somewhere that we already talk of in wistful tones.  It may be the wrong city, but everyone secretly wants to find a Cheers when they go to America, don’t they?  You know, a bar where everybody knows your name?  Third Avenue Alehouse was ours. 

 

It wasn’t just the fact that it served an excellent range of artisan ales (D particularly enjoyed the coffee porter).  Or the fact that I spied one of my favourite wines, Wither Hills Sauvignon Blanc, lurking in the fridge the first time I hopped up onto one of the comfy bar stools.  Or the range of whiskies that would put many a Scottish bar to shame.  Or the friendly staff who were happy to chat and laugh at the English girl who didn’t have a clue about American football (“But why do they throw it backwards?”).    Or the to die for, truffle and rosemary popcorn (I’m quite upset that I didn’t get round to sampling the mac and cheese pie).  It was all of these things in conjunction with the fact that it so quickly felt like a little bolthole in a bewilderingly large and frantic city. 

 

 

So, New Years Eve 2013 found us propping up in the bar in our home away from home, astonishing Louis the barman with our drinking “fortitude” (he was so impressed that he gave us a free drink when we rolled in the next evening!)  It may not be quite as iconic as Times Square, but I couldn’t have asked for a nicer corner of New York, nor better company, to enjoy it.

Woe in Wednesday

Weeks 1-15: -29.5lbs
This week: -1.5lbs
Total loss: 31lbs

Despite being resolutely on track, I was convinced that this week was going to be my first gain. I was mentally composing this post as I walked in to work this morning along the lines of “Every journey has its hiccups”, but kept finding myself breaking off to mutter “Snassun frassun” and scowl at random passers by.

It’s daft, isn’t it? We know, logically, that our bodies aren’t machines and that weight loss, for all that the basic biology is calories in versus calories out, never seems to work on a straight line basis. We comment on blogs when fellow dieters post a gain or stay the same to the effect “Keep going! It will all come good!” genuinely meaning it. And then it happens to us and we sulk mightily. Or, at least, I do. I apparently sulk when I only think that I’m going to gain. God knows what will happen when I actually do (and I use the word when rather than if advisedly.)

But, this week at least, the scale gods have looked down on my efforts and lo, they were pleased. My weekly points have been re-set (hurrah!) and D is making very tasty sounding Sicilian cod for tea. All is currently well in the WW World.

Foodie Abroad: Momofuku noodle bar and The Spotted Pig

Some people list iconic sights to see when they go on holiday.  Us – we list restaurants.  If ever I wonder how I managed to obtain quite such a remarkable state of plumptiousness, I need not look much beyond my NYC to-do list.  Which basically read:

See stuff. 

EAT.

D is very good at picking places in which I want to eat based on descriptions and hearsay alone so I tend to trust his instincts on this.  He came up trumps as usual as evidenced by a fabulous lunch and brunch on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day respectively.

Momofuku noodle bar was an unassuming kind of place from the outside.  We arrived early and killed time in a coffee bar a few doors down.  Although it didn’t take reservations, the area was so quiet that I was in no particular rush and couldn’t understand why my dining companion was getting twitchy as the clock edged towards noon.  At about two minutes past we went back.  And got the last seats in the place.  Five minutes later and the queue was out of the door.

Momofuku is famous for its pork buns and these were undoubtedly absolutely delicious.  The buns themselves are steamed, which achieves a very particular, pillowy texture, and then filled with sliced of melting belly pork, cucumber and a punchy hoi sin sauce.  We had one each and could quite happily have scoffed more – although I am not sure that I didn’t prefer the spicy shrimp buns, where the pork was replaced with a punchy little prawn cake.  We’re going to try and make these at home, so I will report back if I have any success.

 

Buns! - shrimp

Buns! - pork

D then manned up to tackle an enormous bowl of pork ramen – seriously, small children could have swum in it.  I opted for chilled spicy noodles which were tossed in enough chilli oil to provide instant lip augmentation but very tasty nonetheless – I loved the addition of candied cashews which provided interesting sweetness and crunch.  Again, the portion size was redonkulous, but it enabled me to ask for half of the bowl “to go” and I think I uttered a little keen of delight when this was delivered to me in a quintessential brown paper bag. 

 

Ramen!

Noodles! (buried)

Despite nursing noodle babies we had been told that desserts here were not to be missed so we forced (forced I tell you!) ourselves to try out the Captain Crunch cake truffles.  I have no idea what these little golden balls of deliciousness actually were but they were sweet and squidgy and wholly lovely. 

January 1^st was a somewhat different kettle of fish – not least because we had been shipping industrial quantities of booze the night before.  We abandoned any pretence of budgeting and staggered, bleary eyed, from hotel room into the cosy confines of a taxi cab to head for Greenwich Village and, that most American of institutions, brunch.

The Spotted Pig calls itself a gastropub, and the chef owner, April Bloomfield, is a Brit so clearly knows what that entails.  It tends towards the gastro side of the genre – this is no scabby local where you could pop for a pint and a packet of scratchings.  It felt rather…well, cool for want of a better description, which is not an adjective I’ve ever associated with similar places in this country, but there you go.  The staff, while friendly, were a bit…young?  Trendy?  Slightly annoyed to be working at noon on the 1^st January?  Something made them appear a tad disinterested.  I’m going to forgive them for that though because they served me the best cheese toastie EVER.  Although they called it grilled cheese.  I’m not kidding, this was AMAZING.  Look, see the capitals I am using because it was JUST THAT GOOD.  It was just bread and cheese of course but the raw ingredients must have been stellar and the cooking was just bang on – I think it was fried rather than grilled.  That, and a stiff Bloody Mary, and I was almost ready to face the day.  D’s burger looked rather luscious too.  But oh, the grilled cheese. Heaven. 

Burger!

Toastie!

Look at that beauty…(*author drifts off quietly into a (literally) cheesy daydream...)

Momofuku Noodle Bar

171 1st Ave,
New York,
NY 10003,
United States
+1 212-777-7773

The Spotted Pig

314 W 11th St,
New York,
NY 10014,
United States
+1 212-620-0393

Foodie Abroad: Eleven Madison Park

Menu

They say that Disneyland is the happiest place on earth, and up until a couple of weeks ago, I may well have believed them.  But let me tell you, beloved blog readers, there is no place in the world guaranteed to make you happier than a trip to Eleven Madison Park.

Let's face it, a surprise trip to New York is always likely to put you in a good mood.  But there is no way D could book such a trip without throwing in a decent birthday lunch.  EMP has no less than three Michelin stars and pops us in the top ten of the "World's Best" list, so good pedigree.  However, what attracted him to this place over the other swanky NYC locations (of which there are undoubtedly many) was the restaurant's ethos, which tends towards the localism approach becoming increasingly popular in the high end restaurant world.  In other words, food inspired by a sense of place.

Most of the ingredients we enjoyed during our lunch were sourced from New York state and some, like the beer which accompanied the cheese course, were created especially for the restaurant itself.  So that's great.  But as well as place there were some real nods to tradition and nostalgia in amongst the courses - black and white cookies, sturgeon and cream cheese on rye, egg creams...These were dishes that were rooted in the city itself, scattered throughout the menu like little love notes to New York. 


Cookies

Of course, localism and nostalgia are all very well and all very interesting to read about.  But unless food can deliver in terms of taste as well then they are ultimately empty gestures.  EMP didn't so much deliver as present to us in personalised, hand wrapped, be-ribboned boxes and give us a foot massage while we ate.  It was that good.  There was not so much as an element of a dish, not a single leaf of a garnish that was not perfectly judged and an absolute joy to eat.  It was, I think, one of the only times in my life that I have looked back on a meal and felt genuinely sad that I would never get to eat it again. 

Some courses were quirkier than others.  A personal favourite was the carrot tartare which was basically a steak tartare only with carrot.  No, really.  Carrots, lightly cooked in stock and butter were put through a hand mincer at the table and then presented with a range of traditional accompaniments such as raw, lightly pickled egg yolk, horseradish, salt, mustard seeds...The diner then mixes the carrot up and spreads the resultant gloop on thin, rye melba toasts.  It sounds like it should be style over substance but it was ridiculously delicious. 

Carrot

And talking of fiendishly tasty vegetables, what that kitchen could do with a humble squash!  Paired with chanterelles, cranberries and pumpkin seeds, this was squash as you have never tasted before.  Even D, famously dubious of vegetables, was prepared to lick the plate for this one.

Squash

Don't think the kitchen couldn't rise to the challenge of cooking meat beautifully as well though.  The main course duck was a thing of true beauty - and a side dish of braised leg, foie gras and mashed potato (essentially a very posh duck Shepherds' Pie) was ambrosial.

 

Duck

And desserts as well.  Sometimes this is where really good restaurants trip up - it was certainly my least favourite section of the Noma menu, for example.  Not here.  Here, from the sour sweet apple sorbet that accompanied the crème brulee tart, to the chocolate covered pretzels that made an appearance alongside excellent coffee, the pudding end of the menu more than held its own.

 



Apple

A word about the service as well.  D, being a typical Englishman does not believe in making a fuss about birthdays.  He happened to mention once, very briefly, during an email exchange, that he wanted a table for his wife's birthday - mainly because he needed to know when exactly to phone to book a precise date.  He thought no more about it.  I asked if I should expect a cake.  He snorted and said he'd stick a candle in a cupcake for me later in the week.  However.  The restaurant picked up on the comment.  Not only did several members of staff wish me a happy birthday when we arrived, but we also got the chance to visit the kitchen and enjoy a birthday cocktail (made with liquid nitrogen, natch) and I received a little box of birthday truffles (PB & J!!) to take away.  My point is that all three Michelin star restaurants will provide immaculate service.  EMP took it one step beyond.  It was exemplary. 

As I said, Disneyland has been ousted as the happiest place on Earth.  I don't think I have ever quite so whole heartedly recommended a restaurant before, and if I never do again then I will still consider myself an extremely lucky girl.  If you ever find yourself in NYC then do whatever you can to get a table here (and if there's a seat going then I have a kidney that I'd be perfectly willing to sell so that I could pop over and join you).

Eleven Madison Park
11 Madison Ave,
New York, NY 10010,
United States
+1 212-889-0905

Weigh in Wednesday: 8th January 2014

Weeks 1-14: -29lbs
This week: -0.5lbs
Total loss: 29.5lbs

Words fail me, they really do. I knew, from my morning communions with the bathroom scales, that the numbers were shooting down - seems Sunday was a rather fluid retain-y sort of day. But I half wondered if they were wrong. I mean, I didn't go mad over Christmas and while we were away but I certainly didn't skimp. Still, a loss it is.

Contrary to the last I began to worry that NOT seeing a holiday gain would lead to complacency setting in. So you, my loyal readers, are appointed my guards against it. Feel free to slap me with a handy kipper if I start trying to get away with things. I have been back on plan since Sunday and I will continue on plan - I don't want any stealth weight creeping up on me (no, that probably isn't a real thing.)

MPM: 6th January 2013

 

Still jet lagged, so meal planning has been a little bit sluggish today and does feature soup twice - which is fine if you like soup.  But am excited for the weekend when we're going to cook an NYC inspired Saturday night tea...

Tonight: smoked salmon and scrambled eggs
Tuesday and Thursday: fresh soup
Wednesday: warm salad with parsnip rosti, crispy bacon and poached egg
Friday: D out - goats' cheese and caramelised onion pizza for me
Saturday: Reuben sandwich using our home made corned beef, baked cheesecake
Sunday: Roast chicken, roast potatoes, carrot and swede mash, stuffing, best ever braised red cabbage

As per usual, more meal planning fun at Mrs M's.

No more champagne, and the fireworks are through...

 

 

So, we're home from NYC.

D says I shouldn't be allowed to go on good holidays because I get so upset at the end of them.  There were tears on the last night. 

And then, as Peridot so presciently guessed in her comment, there were almost tears at the airport when our flight was cancelled.  The weather hasn't been brilliant on the American East Coast, you see.  By an absolutely remarkable stroke of luck, we managed to get seats on a flight out of Newark just twelve hours after our original departure time.  So, we got to see the New Jersey Turnpike (which is referenced in one of our favourite Simon and Garfunkel songs.  And I'm sure all the people on the bus with us were delighted when we started singing about men in gabardine suits).

Weight news: today (I am a daily home weigher for better or for worse) saw me two and a quarter pounds up on my last pre-holiday weigh in and four and a quarter pounds up on my all time low back on the 16th December.  That's not bad at all.  While I think I have mostly grown out of the habit of all out gluttony I certainly didn't stint on food (or drink) over both the festive season and our American sojourn.  I have been tracking today which has been relatively painless as, after the epic 36 hour journey, I was utterly exhausted and didn't wake up until two this afternoon.  Tomorrow may be more interesting.

2013 - we hardly knew ye

Greetings, blog friends, from the Big Apple!  I write to you from a hotel room which contains little other than a very large television and a quite remarkably massive bed.  These Americans have got their priorities right.


Museum of Modern Art, NYC.  Plus, a hot dog vendor.

I had planned to do a carefully considered post about memories of 2013, top meals, top sandwiches, etc. but that's gone somewhat out of the window as I type this hurriedly before setting off to go and see the new World Trade Centre.  But I guess that you can tell from the location that the year is ending on a very different note to that on which it started and for that I am very thankful.

It turns out that my top meal of the year was taken in its very last few days.  Sorry, did I say top meal of the year?  I probably meant top meal of pretty much ever.  I'll tell you all about that when I get back.

I didn't post many recipes this year - possibly because I spent a lot of eating sandwiches.  I hope to do lots more next year and already have plenty of ideas for dishes that I want to, if not recreate, at least homage at home.  But I still have plenty of poundage to drop, despite finally getting my WW on in the last three months of the year, so I'll still be trying to make sure that things are relatively conducive to a calorie (or point) controlled eating plan.

So all the best to all of you for the New Year and can't wait to tell you about all of my adventures when I'm back in Blighty in 2014.

Sx

A fairytale of...

Me: Happy Christmas random friendly type!  Did you have a good day?

RFT: Lovely thanks.

Me: Bodyweight in turkey, cheese and chocolate consumed?

RFT: Of course!  Got to be done at Christmas!  And you?

Me: Well, I certainly wasn't pro-pointing, that's for sure.  Although I did try to exercise a touch of restraint, especially in the face of some delicious Parmesan and thyme biscuits.  I only ate three!  Actually, that looks quite piggy written down. And only one portion of my beloved sausage meat stuffing (this year the mater went for a Tom Kerridge recipe with chestnuts and cranberries which was very tasty indeed).

RFT:  And did the family come up trumps vis a vis presents?

Me (nonchalantly): Not bad, not bad.  Chocolate enough to see me through until Easter.  Perfume.  A bit of sparkle, a soupcon of Jo Malone...oh, and a trip to New York.

RFT:  ??!?!?!?!?!????

Me:  Yep, flying out on Friday for a week in the Big Apple.  And, to celebrate my birthday on Saturday, we'll be having lunch in one of the best restaurants in not just the city but the entire world.

RFT:  Wow.  So WW is going to be taking a back seat until the new year.

Me:  I think it's fair to say that. 

What a difference a year makes

Although the blog entries for this time last year sound quite cheery, I wasn’t really a very happy camper. A bit like a Primark Christmas jumper, the appearance from a distance was festive but, up close, I was a bit sad and bobbly. And for all that I talked about “getting it together” in the New Year, and looking after myself properly, it didn’t really happen.

Being separated was one of the most painful, difficult things I have ever been through. I suppose it is a measure of my very privileged life that I can say that, but there it is. I love my husband very much and felt very bereft and lonely without him. More than that though, I felt like I had failed at being a wife, and, by extension, a woman. Yes, no doubt it looks and sounds melodramatic but, again, there it is.

I hope to do one final post on the CBT sessions I had earlier this year at some point as they came along at just the right time and helped me in a very meaningful way, which was unexpected. Such that, if (God forbid), such a thing were ever to happen again, I feel like I would be far better equipped to deal with it. I feel better equipped to deal with life in general. That has been 2013’s great gift to me – that, and the fact that I have been given a second chance to make my marriage work for which I am deeply and profoundly grateful.

The last couple of months have seen everything begin to come together with regards weight loss (and let’s not forget that is supposed to be the raison d’être of this particular blog) which is wonderful and I hope that success continues into the New Year. But I suspect it is an effect, rather than a cause, of my general sense of contentment and well being.

I certainly don’t think I have all the answers yet – I don’t suppose I ever will – and I think I have further work to do next year, especially with regards balancing all the disparate aspects of my life (journeys of self discovery are all very well, but if they lead to you losing a bit of focus at work then you end up spending the last couple of weeks before the Christmas holidays working very hard to ensure that you are on top of everything, and that eats in to mulled wine time). But, hey, that’s all part of the journey I suppose.

And speaking of journeys, thank you to all of you who have walked alongside me (in a virtual sense) this year for your company. It, you are always appreciated. In case I don’t get the chance to post again before the big day, can I just wish everyone who reads this blog a very, very, very merry Christmas and hope that 2014 brings you peace, joy and plenty of cake.

Recipe corner: Corned beef hash

 

Goodness.  We used some of our home made corned beef for a hash this evening and it was ever so, ever so good.  It was the kind of good that makes me very sad for the people who will never get to eat it.  So my Christmas present to you, dearest reader, is the recipe.

The thing is, I say my recipe, it is very much akin to St Delia's recipe.  One of the big differences is that the meat in ours was the home made sort rather than the tinned sort which makes a distinct textural difference - and you'll notice from the method below that it allows, nay encourages, you to have two different textures of beef through the hash which is delicious.  We also went for poached eggs over Ms Smith's suggested fried which I think vastly preferable - the yolk runs into the hash and adds fabulous rich gooeyness.

D thinks that this portion is on the small side.  I agree, that one probably could eat more.  For the Weight Watcher who does not wish to scale up, I would say the addition of some green veg (steamed spinach, knob of butter?) would add volume with few additional points.  Sizewise though, it would be excellent for a multi course dinner party main, we think, with an elegantly positioned dollop of home made brown sauce and some finely chopped pickles. It is excellent, full stop.

Ingredients

150g corned beef - shred 50g and cut the rest into cubes
Tbsp Dijon mustard
2 tbsp Worcester sauce
Tsp dried thyme
Pinch dried chilli flakes
Salt, pepper

250g potatoes, cubed

25ml sunflower oil
Large onion, thinly sliced

2 medium eggs
Tbsp white wine vinegar

Serves 2, 13 pro points per portion

Combine the meat with the mustard, Worcester, herbs and spices.  You can do this in advance and leave it to sit for a while.  You may think that it appears too saucy at this stage, but don't worry.

Put the potatoes in a large pan and cover with water.  Salt well.  Bring to the boil and bubble away for three minutes.  Drain.  Combine with the saucy (oooo-er) beef.  Season - minimal salt, lots and lots of black pepper.

Heat the oil in a large pan - you want a decent surface area so don't skimp.  When the oil is hot, add the onion and cook until golden and beginning to brown. Add the meat and potato mixture and spread out as far as possible.  Leave to cook for a while - you want to get a decent crust.

While this is cooking, bring a pan of water to a brisk boil.  Do NOT add salt but DO add a capful of white wine vinegar.  Break the eggs into ramekins. 

Once your meat and potato is looking crusty and delicious, tip the eggs into the water and set a time for one and a half minutes.  While they cook, spoon out the hash (we used chef's rings because we are....middle class).  Top the hash with the eggs and season to taste before serving.

‘Twas the weigh in before Christmas

Weeks 1-11: -27 lbs
This week: -2lbs
Total loss: 29lbs

Two stone achieved plus a pound for luck – and the half case of fizz is mine! Mwah hah hah.

No more official WW weigh ins now until January 8th. If I am feeling particularly masochistic I will keep an eye on how the home scales are going. Although I did hop on them the other day to be greeted with the message “Lo”, which, while satisfyingly Biblical, is not particularly useful.

Actually, one of my aims for the next two weeks is to enjoy Christmas without going over the top but also without pangs of guilt. Back in days of yore when I succeeded in becoming something of a skinny Minnie it was only through exerting the sort of sheer bloody mindedness that turns some people into Olympic athletes. If only I could use my powers for good, eh? Seriously, you do need to be committed and focused to lose weight, but when committed and focused becomes obsessed and rigid then you have gone too far.

So if you’ll excuse me, I’m just off to investigate the tin of Roses that is lurking in the office kitchen. I may be some time…

How to make corned beef (and you really, really should)

Best corned beef sandwich EVER...

Corned beef and pickle sandwiches were an absolute staple in my household when I was growing up.  OK you risked bleeding to death every time you tried to open a can (or at least I did) and it looked kind of weird (a friend of mine once described it as "nipple meat" which put me off for a little while) but still, delicious.  I don't know why I stopped eating it but I certainly can't remember the last time I bought it.

D, for reasons best known to himself, had long cherished the notion of making some corned beef at home.  It's odd - it is not something that it would EVER  have occurred to me to cook, primarily because it is one of those things, liked baked beans, that only exists as a canned foodstuff in my head.  The idea of taking a piece of beef and....well, corning it seemed odd. 

And what does corning refer to, I hear you ask?  Well, thanks to my friend and yours, Wikipedia, I can tell you that it is a reference to the coarse, granular salt used to cure the beef.  There doesn't appear to be a particular difference between "salt beef" and "corned beef" although pastrami, another cured beef product, is apparently smoked rather than boiled to give it a particular flavour.  So there you go. 

Anyway, it turns out that corned beef is absolutely delicious.  It tastes like the canned stuff but somehow amplified...meatier, spicier...and far more tender.  It's so good that we just ate corned beef sandwiches for tea on Friday, Saturday and Sunday with nothing more than slices of meat, mustard and dill pickles, and I am rather sad that I won't be having them again tonight.  Later this week we intend to make corned beef hash - I'll report back if it is good. 

Incidentally, in terms of points, I've been reckoning on 7 pro points per 100g cooked weight based on nutritional information I've found online.  50g is more than enough for a decent sandwich filling which works out at 3pps. 

Ingredients

Pickling spices:
1 tbsp allspice berries
1 tbsp mustard seeds
1 tbsp coriander seeds
1 tbsp dried chilli flakes
1 tbsp whole cloves
1 tbsp whole black peppercorns
9 cardamom pods
6 dried bay leaves, crumbled
2 tsp ground ginger
1/2 stick cinnamon
1 1/2 star anise

Brine:
4.5 litres of water
2 handfuls of sea salt (we always buy Maldon)
5 tsp pink curing salt
3 tbsp pickling spices
110g brown sugar

Brisket:
3kg piece of brisket
1 tbsp pickling spices

Some notes first of all.

Yes, 3kg of brisket is a lot.  Ours cooked down to about 1.7kg. This is still a lot.  The beef will keep for a couple of weeks in the fridge or can be portioned up and frozen.  It is delicious, and brisket is not a terribly expensive cut so I recommend making a load but, of course, I would assume this recipe would work perfectly well scaled down.

The pink curing salt is available online.  We bought it here.  The original recipe does state that you can make the beef without - the main difference will be to the colour which will be less vividly pink.

You need a BIG container for such a big piece of meat.  We used a large cake carrier Lock and Lock which looked huge - but could only get about half of the specified amount of liquid in even so.  The beef still worked beautifully but D did turn it every day to ensure that it all sides were getting well brined.

So here's what you do:

Toast the allspice, mustard seeds, coriander seeds, chilli flakes, cloves, peppercorns and cardamom pods in a dry pan over a high heat until the mustard seeds start to pop and the spices are fragrant.  Transfer to a pestle and mortar and lightly crush.  Stir in the ginger and the bay.

Now add 3 tbsp of the spice mix plus the cinnamon and star anise to the water in a large pan along with the sugar and salt.  Bring to the boil then remove from the heat.  Allow the liquid to come to room temperature and then put it in the fridge to chill.

Place your beefy behemoth in your chosen container and pour over the brine.  Cover and keep somewhere cool - the fridge or, in this weather, the garage.  Brine for at least 5 days - ours was in their for 10.  Turn the meat regularly.

When you're ready to cook, remove the meat from the brine and rinse with cold water.  We cooked ours in a slow cooker which was perfect for this type of joint.  We added a small quantity of water to the pot with a tablespoon of the pickling spice and then sat in the meat and gave it 1 hour on high followed by 9 hours on low heat at which point it was falling apart and the house smelled like a deli. Wrap in foil and rest for at least an hour before serving.

Weigh in Wednesday: 11th December 2013

Weeks 1-10: -24.5lbs
This week: -2.5lbs
Total loss: 27lbs

D promised me half a case of fizz if I managed to lose two stone by Christmas. He is now slightly worried...

Behind the curtain

Yesterday I went into a changing room and tried on some items of clothing.

Pauses while majority of readers think "???!??" and "Er...well done?"

But this is something of a big deal. Let me explain - I haven't tried on an item of clothing in a changing room for at least a couple of years. I don't know who invented the changing room - all pale, watery lighting, always slightly over heated and under sized - but it was not someone who was interested in boosting the ego of women. And when you don't really like looking at yourself in a mirror anyway, the prospect of seeing yourself in several different, unflattering angles simultaneously is not one that warms the cockles.

In any case, I'm not someone who takes a lot of interest in clothes when I'm bigger. There are some amazing plus size style bloggers out there who carry off dressing for curves with aplomb but me, I'm more about camouflage. Although it's fundamentally impossible to camouflage the fact that you're shaped like a Weeble.

Anyway, yesterday I went into a changing room! And I tried on an utterly frivolous outfit - a frothy skirt and a jumper with sequin detail. I didn't buy it. But I looked at it from every dodgy angle, noted that a semblance of waist was emerging, hummed and hawed and ultimately decided that it wasn't right and put it back. Like a completely normal person.

Talk about your small victories, right? But me, I'll take them wherever I can.

Restaurant Story - tall tales of delicious food

Restaurant Story is, D informed me as we walk from London Bridge station, on the site of a former public convenience.  We debate using scatological humour in the title of the blog post.  We have had several drinks by the time this conversation takes place, and the puns become more and more lame the further along Tooley Street we get.

We managed to walk past Story once but, when we finally find it, wonder how we could have missed it.  It looks a bit like a house from a fairy tale, incongruous on the London street.  Inside it is warm and bright.  Books line the walls, making it feel curiously cosy considering the size and nature of the space and the fact that there is a glass walled, brightly lit kitchen set to one side of the dining area (a waiter later tells us that the main kitchen is downstairs so this may be chiefly for show and plating).

The menu is simple - six courses or ten courses.  We, of course, opt for ten, despite the fact we have advanced notice that the table is only ours for two hours.  As it turns out we are there for over three, and a good thing too, for while only ten courses are advertised, we tot up that we actually chomp our way through twenty two platefuls.  I've read reviews that suggest each dish is linked to the "story" theme but I think this conceit must have been dispensed with, or at least relaxed, by the time we go and while some have nods to memory and nostalgia, in general the food is best described as very modern, very respectful of its component parts and, occasionally, very challenging.  We loved it.

The meal kicks off with a few quick fire "snack" rounds.  It's difficult to identify a favourite.  The crispy cod skin is remarkable - like a very thin, fishy version of a pork scratching.  I adore the radishes filled with kelp butter and deeply savoury rabbit "cakes" while D is particularly taken with the whole prawns - head and tail roasted, body raw - that need to be popped in a single mouthful, and the oyster and rye on courgette flower. 

I was excited to try the "bread and dripping course", which I'd already read about online, although more for the novelty value than the actual taste.  This has to be the kitschiest presented course I have ever eaten anywhere - a candle is brought to the table and lit when you first sit down:

and after you've finished the snacks, warm bread and jellied veal tongue and pickles are brought along for you to (get this) dunk in the melted candle wax!  Which is actually beef dripping!  Beautiful novelty aside, it turns out that beef dripping smeared on slightly salty bread is a Very Good Thing indeed.  In fact, one of my biggest criticisms of Story is that they do not bring us more bread after we have demolished the first couple of rolls.  They probably want us to save room.

But, since we're on the subject - let's talk about the negatives for a moment.  Two of the dishes on the ten course menu I had issues with.  The pig, chicken and langoustine, which I expected to adore, was not nice - an overly set chicken mousse wrapped in squidgily gelatinous pigs' trotter that really suffered from a lack of textural contrast.  And the prune tea with lovage and milk - well, it turned out that the milk component was milk skin draped over the fruit. I found this deeply unpleasant.  I am a serial custard avoider because of the possibility of skin. Now, I accept that both of these quibbles are primarily down to personal preference as opposed to a lack of skill in the kitchen.  And the thing is, when you've got an exciting young chef experimenting with flavours and textures and techniques then you are going to get hits and misses - I remember vividly not enjoying at least one course when we went to both The Fat Duck and Noma and these are regarded as two of the finest restaurants in the world.  Tasting menus mean that you end up eating things that you would never normally order, and sometimes this means an absolute taste sensation and sometimes it means that it's not quite your cup of tea, but being open minded and accepting the challenge of the new is all part of the experience.

And the highs at Story were really very high indeed.  The venison with yeast and elderberry, oh, it was just fantastic:

Plus one of the unexpected real treats on the menu turned out to be one of the dishes that sounded the least flashy - potato, turnip and coal oil:

The potato was as whipped and smooth as it is possible for a potato to be, with peppery kicks from the raw turnip and deep savoury notes from the coal oil.  It was blissful.  Actually, the only thing that could possibly have improved either of these two courses would have been to serve a dollop of the potato on the side of the venison. 

Desserts, overall, were the least successful part of the meal to my mind.  There were some interesting flavour combinations - who would have thought that almond and dill work so well together in a sweet context:

And I loved the sherberty sourness of the sea buckthorne pre-dessert palate cleanser.  But we thought that the Scandinavian influence was very apparent in the puddings which is a little alien to the English palate - and seems a shame given this island's fantastic heritage of rib sticking puds.  Again, this may be more of a matter of personal taste, but I would have loved (especially given the Story USP) to see something along the lines of gingerbread houses and chocolate soldiers or some riffs on British dessert classics (like Simon Rogan's truly phenomenal stiffy tacky pudding).

The petits fours were fabulous though - yellow plum puree with buttermilk foam served in school milk bottles with stripy straws:

And Mr Tunnock would have been proud at the rose and raspberry flavoured take on a teacake.

Minor gripes aside, Restaurant Story is the kind of place that reminds me why I love modern food and clever, modern chefs.  I can't wait to go back.  Although next time I will be taking along some bread rolls in my handbag.... 

Recipe corner - partridge with bacon, lentils and parsnip puree

Sigh.  Yet again food photography that makes perfectly decent meals look like....well, slightly nondescript plates full of goo.  Perhaps I need to hire Lesley to be my photographer on a permanent basis.  Or take more time and trouble over the whole endeavour.  The thing is, when I've got to this (indicates upwards) stage, I want to eat!  And Strictly is on pause and I need to find out whether this is finally the week that Abbey trips over her own feet.

Anyway, this was a highly delicious weekend dinner that I thoroughly recommend.  It requires several pans and a bit of time, but pretty much everything can be prepared in advance and then heated through while the meat cooks.  Talking of the meat, I managed to slightly overdo mine (partridge breasts are very small) so I've reduced the cooking time in the recipe below but keep an eye on it if you have a particularly enthusiastic oven.

Ingredients

4 small partridge breasts
2 rashers of streaky bacon
25g butter
Several sprigs of fresh thyme
Salt, pepper

75g dried Puy lentils
Rasher of streaky bacon
Stick of celery
2 cloves of garlic
Tsp olive oil
100ml red wine
500ml (ish) chicken or vegetable stock
2 tsp red wine vinegar
Tsp juniper berries
Bay leaf
Small bunch of thyme
Salt, pepper

3 medium parsnips
250ml skimmed milk
15g Parmesan cheese
Salt, pepper, fresh nutmeg

Serves 2, 21 pro points per portion

For the lentils: Warm the oil through in a large pan (the lentils will cook better if the pan has a big surface area).  Finely chop the celery, garlic and bacon.  When the oil is hot, tip in the bacon and vegetables and cook until the veg are soft and the bacon is golden.  Then add the lentils and stir well to coat in the bacon fat.

Pour in the red wine and bring up the heat to reduce it quickly and furiously.  Lightly crush the juniper berries with the blade of a knife or the back of a spoon.  Add to the pan along with the thyme and the bay leaves and then pour in the stock and the vinegar.  Ensure that the lentils are well covered with liquid - if not, then you can top up with more water.  Season very well and then reduce the heat and simmer for at least 35 minutes until the liquid has all but evaporated and the lentils are tender.  Lentils tend to be variable little creatures so be prepared for it to take longer, and, if the liquid looks to be boiling dry, add a splash more.

For the parsnips: Peel and slice and then put in a saucepan, covered with the milk.  Cook over a very gentle heat.  The milk should be at a bare simmer throughout - any higher and it will catch on the bottom of the pan leading to a nasty burned milk smell in the kitchen and a very long washing up job.  The parsnips need to be falling apart soft - this will take 20-30 minutes.  Transfer the lot to a blitzer along with the grated Parmesan cheese, seasoning and a hefty grating of nutmeg.  Whizz to a smooth puree.  You could then pass it through a sieve if you're feeling extra cheffy.

For the partridge: I would recommend roasting these in a little foil tray - it saves on washing up.  Whatever you use, make sure it is not completely flat or you are liable to end up with melted butter all over the bottom of your oven.

Bring the butter to room temperature and then season well and mash in the thyme leaves.  Smear the butter over the partridge breasts.  Reserving a dab to butter the roasting receptacle.

Cover the bacon rasher with cling film and using a rolling pin (or similar) give it a good bash.  Cut the rashers in half horizontally and drape over the buttered breasts.  Transfer to the roasting tray.  To roast, preheat the oven to 220 degrees and then cook for 25 minutes.  Allow to rest for 5 minutes before serving with the parsnip puree and lentils, drizzled with the melted butter.