In which we go to Birmingham and have dinner at Purnell's

Purnell’s is not a restaurant that I ever had particularly on my radar - chiefly because it is in Birmingham and I am not.  But, D, much to his disgust, not only had to work on his birthday this year but, what is more, had to do so in Birmingham. So we decided to make the best of an unfortunate set of circumstances (work may be dull but it is the means by which we get money to play) and hit the town.  Although not to paint it red because I am incapable of painting anything any colour but the palest shade of baby pink these days – I blame being in my fourth decade.  In fact, we confined our pre dinner drinking to a couple of sneaky halves in Brewdog.  I think I’ve mentioned that D has, in the last few years, developed a real interest in real ales and Brewdog is a favourite of both his and my brother (who, like Remmington Steele, liked it so much that he bought shares in the company).  Incidentally, the Birmingham branch is particularly fabulous – or whatever adjective is more appropriate to the carefully cultivated, industrial style grubbiness of the interior.

But Purnell’s.  We had the tasting menu, of course (here called “the Tour”) with the matching wine which pushed the price up into what I like to call “Eeep” territory.  Which is ok for birthdays.  And they do have a set 3 course lunch menu for £30 which looks very nice indeed.  For I would heartily recommend that, should you ever find yourself in Birmingham, you pay Purnell’s a visit.  The food was delicious, the wines thoughtfully chosen and interesting, the staff a delight, the atmosphere relaxed and unstilted.

Bread arrived at the table shortly after we did and throughout the course of the evening we demolished nearly an entire loaf of this pain de campagne, which came, as unprepossessing as you like, with whipped butter and a little pile of rock salt crystals.  While appearing plain when compared to the elaborately flavoured bakes that some places send out, it was crisp and light and utterly delicious – perfect for plate mopping purposes.  And, apparently, baked in house daily.  We were off to a good start.  A good start that continued when we were presented by an amuse of miniature baked potatoes and watercress mayonnaise.  The chef advised that we use our fingers.  We were more than happy to do so.

Bread!

Simplistic, almost rustic, presentation was not a constant.  Some of the courses were more elaborate: the “Remoulade 2012”, for example, came as three individual constituent parts with instructions as to how to eat them (I know that some people hate this kind of faffy eating but I generally find it amusing).  However, the stand out dish for both of us was the monkfish with red lentil dahl and coriander and coconut cream, which was back at the plainer end of the spectrum.  The combination of the peppery plump flakes of fish with the soft, yielding spice of the lentils was utterly delicious.  I believe that this dish won the fish course in an early series of Great British Menu and a recipe can be found on the BBC site here.  Expect to see it popping up in a menu plan soon.

Monkfish!

The only course that was slightly underwhelming was the cheese.  It was fine, just a little unexciting.  Perhaps we have cheese ennui?  How terrible, if so!  But the first of the two puddings, “Mint Choccy Chip” tasted like a Peppermint Aero as made by angels, and the second included the richest, sweetest, silkiest vanilla crème brulee that I can ever remember eating – served in an egg shell.  So I was perfectly willing to forgive and forget.

Mint choccy chip - complete with minty fog

 

Egg! 

I can’t imagine we will find ourselves in the vicinity of Purnell’s again in the near future which is a shame because the food and, indeed, the experience, was a pleasure from start to finish.  I shall content myself by attempting to recreate the masala spiced monkfish and staring intently at eggs in the hope that the power of wishful thinking can insert vanilla custard into the shells.  In the meantime should you, gentle reader, be celebrating a birthday, an anniversary or a Tuesday in Birmingham, I would highly commend it to you as a destination.

Purnell's
55 Cornwall Street
Birmingham
B3 2DH

0121 212 9799

Weigh in Wednesday: 13th November 2013

Weeks 1-6: -14.5lbs
This week: -3lbs
Total loss: -17.5lbs

And this just in - Friday night fish and chips conducive to weight loss!

Early weigh in for me today and it may well be that I am slightly lighter at 7:45 am than I am at 6 pm but I'll take that on the chin next week and for now will just enjoy my result.

I had a slight wobble on Sunday evening - more of a minor tantrum really. I'm not sure why, for the most part I have been eating well and feeling happy and certainly not deprived. It passed fairly quickly with a dose of Studio Ghibli but I need to keep an eye on it - I do not want to risk a major blip between now and Christmas.

MPM: 11th November 2013

I was sitting writing up the plan (in my special meal plan fridge notebook, natch) yesterday morning when caught D looking at me with an amused twinkle. "You do realise," said he, "That the people who read your blog will probably fall over at the sight of a meal plan which actually involves cooking."

So, dearest readers, you have been duly warned. This week's meal plan is brought to you by the very heat of my oven and sweat of my brow (which, owing to an unfortunate medication side effect, can be very sweaty indeed.)


It's a quiet week this week, although some excitement tomorrow when we have two new Ikea units delivered and the recipe books currently piled up on the floor can be stacked on an actual shelf. And amidst all the nest building, we will mostly be eating:

Pasta pesto with courgette ribbons and peas

Spinach and red lentil Dahl with roast chicken, basmatic rice and naan

Moules frites

Spaghetti Carbonara

Oxtail slow cooked with Rioja and chorizo, mashed potatoes, broad beans tossed in garlic butter.

Look at that - almost worthy of a food blog! Head over to Mrs M's for more meal planning fun.

Weigh in Wednesday: 6th November 2013

Weeks 1-5: -14 lbs
This week: -0.5 lbs
Total loss: -14.5 lbs

After weeks of big losses, when I saw the number on the scales tonight I prepared myself for a wave of disappointment.  It never came.  Actually, I'm very, very pleased.  I feel now that those big losses have been consolidated if that makes a whit of sense?  I'm also conscious that a multi course tasting menu with supplementary cheese course and matching wine flight probably equates to a billionty one points so I've more than made up for last Wednesday's indulgence.

Onwards, onwards and downwards.

Classic Recipe Corner: Sage and onion stuffing

I’d love to preface this post with some beautiful shots of a freshly roasted chicken, perhaps some artfully strewn herb sprigs, a potato or two. But I can’t because, er, I forgot. Here, instead, is a view of Harewood House, taken while walking this Sunday. This was shortly before the start of the whingeing, the huffing up hills like The Little Engine That Could and the water bottle leaking all over my arse. It’s pretty though, bathed in the late autumn sunshine, and I love the fact that it is, literally, minutes outside of Leeds and yet almost convinces as a rural idyll.

Sheep!

Anyway...

It is to my great shame that up until a few years ago the only sort of sage and onion stuffing to ever grace my Sunday table was made by Mr Paxo. Paxo stuffing has a lot to recommend it, not least the fact that it is unquestionably a taste and smell of childhood. OK, it looks a little bit like the contents of a Hoover bag in its natural state, but I considered it as quintissentially Sundayish as The Archers.

I can’t remember why I decided to make a fresh stuffing, on a complete whim, for Christmas dinner a couple of years ago. Maybe I was feeling particularly Domestic Goddess-ey that day.
Edited to add: the idea originally came from my brother, D2 and sister in law who are roast dinner experts of the first order.

Anyway, make it I did from a completely traditional Mrs Beeton recipe and it was so glorious that it has appeared regularly on the table ever since, most recently this last Sunday, and yet never reared its head on the blog.

I love a roast dinner and it is possible to have a heaped plateful for a (relatively) reasonable number of points. Roast potatoes for example. I use just a tablespoon of oil for two people, cooling the parboiled potatoes and then tossing them in the (also cold) oil before putting them in the oven. It’s a contentious way of doing it, but I find it gives excellently crispy results and means you can control (and limit) the amount of fat you are adding. Meanwhile the volume on the plate which we all crave from a proper Sunday lunch can easily be created by piles of veg – carrot and ginger mash is a particular favourite of mine, zero points apart from a scant knob of butter tossed through at the end to add richness.

At 4pps, the stuffing is one of the pointier aspects but well worth it. Still, you could halve the portion and still have a dollop of lovely, herby deliciousness. Then, you could have the rest of it smeared all over your cold cut sandwich the next day.

Ingredients

100g sliced white bread, ideally slightly stale (crusts removed)
4 x onions, peeled and halved
10 (roughly) largeish sage leaves
40g butter
1 medium egg yolk
Salt, pepper

Serves 4, 4 pro points per portion

You will need a little blitzer, a large saucepan, a bowl, a slotted spoon and a spoon for mixing.

Fill the pan with cold water, place in the onion halves and a generous pinch of salt. Bring the pan to the boil and then simmer for five minutes. This will take the raw tang out of the onions and leave them sweetly flavoursome for the stuffing.

Meanwhile, place the bread in the blitzer and whizz into fine crumbs. Transfer to the waiting bowl.

When the onions have had their required bath, remove to the blitzer using a slotted spoon. Put the sage leaves in the still simmering water for around 30 seconds – again, just to take the raw taste off. Transfer these to the blitzer with the onions and whizz into a greenly speckled, savoury paste.

In the same pan, over a gentle heat, put the butter on to melt.

Remove the pan from the heat and tip in the breadcrumbs, the onion paste, the egg yolk and more seasoning than you think you need and stir briskly to combine.

Bake alongside the joint – I use disposable foil trays. The top will brown but the inside will remain much more yielding than packet stuffing. Serve alongside roast chicken and all the trimmings.

MPM: 4th November 2013

Happy Monday everyone!


There is something of a dearth of actual cooking in the meal plan this week owing to a couple of cultural interludes, a takeaway craving and a visit from my in laws. Still, I am trying to get back into the habit of a meal planning post so will write it up, such as it is.

We had an amazing meal at Purnell’s last week which I can’t wait to share with you so will try and get that done this week – aside from anything else, indulgence in a very interesting wine flight has insured that a couple more brain cells have gone west so if I leave it too long you won’t get much beyond “Yum”. Which, to be fair, is a reasonable summary in the absence of any other.

Meanwhile, this week –

Monday: We had a roast chicken dinner last night so we will be having roast chicken and stuffing wraps this evening with spiced wedges and salad.

Tuesday: Cultural interlude #1 – no, not fireworks but an NT Live showing of Danny Boyle’s “Frankenstein”. Sadly the cinema is located in something of a cultural desert so we may end up at Nando’s beforehand. (Keep it quiet but I quite like Nando’s….)

Wednesday: D out, me – currently craving poached egg on toast. As it is post WI there may be something indulgent for afters.

Thursday: Cultural interlude #2 – Alan Bennett’s “People” at the Leeds Grand. Likelihood of rushed pre-theatre beans on toast: high.

Friday: Himself is craving a proper fish and chip supper and, after denying him last week I cannot in all conscience do so again. I will be eschewing all but a handful of chips and weighing the fish in an attempt to stay on track.

Saturday: Finally some cooking! I bought D a copy of “The Silver Spoon” for his birthday which is a compendium of classic Italian cookery. Tonight he is planning to whip up a Risotto Milanese – we’ve already purchased the bone marrow which is quivering away pinkly in the fridge. Possible some nice antipasti beforehand.

Sunday: Unknown as yet but out somewhere with FIL and SIL.

Head over to Mrs M’s for more meal planning fun.

In which I try to motivate my future self

I was pondering the other week whether or not I should write a post for Future Me to read when (as inevitably happen) it all goes off the boil, the numbers on the scales start going in the wrong direction and I come on here and go something along the lines of: “It’s so HARD, why is it so HARD, I am going to eat nothing but DUST forever and still look like a TELETUBBIE.”

Because (as I think I commented on someone else’s blog the other day – and if it was yours I hope I didn’t sound like too much of a smug bitch because I promise you most heartily, that was not the intention) when it’s going well, it’s easy. I would assume this applies to any sort of eating plan, albeit for different reasons. For me, when I’m following WW properly – by which I mean when I’m actually being organised enough to plan and cook, I find I can eat well for my alloted points; my fruit and veg intake naturally rises which means I feel healthier overall and I’m lucky enough that my body tends to respond reasonably well and not cling on to the flab too desperately (and gosh I hope that sentence doesn’t come back to bite me in the arse!) My mood improves, my anxiety symptoms decline and even my dark circles look slightly less impressively bruise coloured. I don’t tend to feel deprived; my appetite naturally decreases and I derive greater pleasure from the treats that I do allow myself to have - so why, why, why would I ever do anything else?

Is it the planning and the tracking that becomes too arduous? Actually, I find planning and putting thought into my food means I eat a far greater variety of yummier dishes – look back on posts from a few months ago and I was generally subsisting on sandwiches and toast. Last night, I had a salmon fillet, smeared in mustard and wrapped in bacon with garlicky roasted potatoes and tenderstem broccoli. And I track on my iPhone which is always to hand do I don’t even have to flail around for a pen.

Future Me, for goodness sake, you have every single tool you need, every single motivation in the world and it’s NOT EVEN THAT HARD. Put DOWN the pizza slice and the gin bottle and remind yourself, in the words of La Cole that you are, indeed, worth it.

Reasons to be cheerful

Reason #1 - another 4lbs off at weigh in this week. That's a stone in 4 weeks. I'm quite shocked by it really, I think all I managed to say when I got on the scales was "Oh". It's an excellent start but there is plenty still to go and the rate of loss will likely slow down to a snail pace soon enough.

Reason #2 I passed my latest exam! Three down, six to go until I become the proud owner of a BA in Taxation Studies. Yes, that is a thing.

Reason #3 My brother's second baby is arriving today! My adorable nephew, little D, is going to have an even littler brother or sister. I am such a proud auntie!

So even though I have spent some of the week full of cold and grumps I am going into the weekend determined to be happy in the face of all my myriad blessings. Have a fabulous time whatever you are up to!

MPM: 21st October 2013

When in doubt, buy stationary. I recently invested in a meal planning pad to stick up on the fridge which fills my covetous little heart with great joy. The first page is looking pretty sparse though - two nights home alone where prick and ping is the order of the day, while on Saturday we are off to the York whisky festival and Sunday will subsequently find me curled in a ball vowing never to drink again.

Still, that leaves three meals to be written, very neatly, in the appropriate boxes for the world (me and D) to see. And said boxes say:

Pasta pesto with peas and roasted tenderstem broccoli followed by Bakewell pudding and cream

Roasted spiced duck legs with vegetables stir fried in five spice and soy

Sausages and mash with onion gravy

Hop over to Mrs M's for more meal planning fun.

Food for thought: compassion all round

Earnest Ross and I have been talking about compassion recently. Specifically, the idea of being compassionate towards oneself. It’s the kind of thing that sounds like it should be a no-brainer. But I’ve been shocked by the amount of resistance I’ve felt towards it.

“It feels,” I told him today, “That if I accept the need to be more compassionate to myself then I am giving myself permission to act or behave in a negative way. That I am excusing myself. It feels like weakness and failure.”

But, he countered, is showing compassion always an easy option? To be compassionate is not necessarily to excuse so much as to accept and not apply moral judgments. To be compassionate requires you to face difficult things head on. Nothing easy or weak about that.

Perhaps part of the resistance lies in the fact that we are all programmed to find fat distasteful. Just this week I saw this article on the Guardian website about NICE telling doctors that they should treat overweight people with respect. Exsqueeze me? They have to be told? Doctors, who I fondly imagine to be the most compassionate of people (with the possible exception of nuns), need to be actually told by a clinical institute that fat people should not be sneered at but offered realistic and practical and non judgemental advice? What hope is there for the rest of the society if our medical professionals need to have this spelled out to them?

I have been remarkably blessed in my dealings with doctors. The GPs I have seen in the last few years have been absolutely lovely and supportive and never made me feel as if every little niggle, from a cough to an ingrown toenail, was related to the fact that my BMI was over 30. But I understand that I am in a minority with this experience. Actually, I have been remarkably blessed full stop in that I have never encountered any major discrimination or bullying or unpleasantness related to my size. Perhaps that is one of the reasons that I am so much more critical of myself than anyone else could ever be.

The sound of silence. And a weigh in.

So, from the lack of any update on this blog, you may be forgiven for thinking that after last week’s stellar result at the scales I proceeded to upend myself into a vat of chocolate Baileys (has anyone tried this yet? Report if so, I have very high hopes!) But, no, despite consuming slightly more wine than was good for me at York races on Friday, I have kept on keeping on. I have even been restrained in the face of cheese which, dearest Reader, is a victory in itself.

The scales’ verdict tonight? Another pound off making ten in three weeks. I am closing in on the one stone mark - once I'm there I think I'll really believe I am doing this!

I had all these high hopes that once the Annus Horribilus was over then things would all spring back to normal, but the truth is, it is taking a little time. And it was naïve to ever expect otherwise as both D and I are going through a period of transition. I’ve moved in to a new house and am still finding my feet and trying to get over feeling like a guest in someone else’s environment; he, meanwhile, is having to deal with his space being invaded by an individual with a propensity towards mess and clutter. We have two houses worth of furniture to amalgamate and sort through. Plus, I’ve had weird working patterns the last couple of weeks as I’ve been preparing for an exam. So all in all it is little wonder that we haven’t yet had the chance to get into a properly established routine. I have started to actually cook meals though, which is good, and there is fruit in the fruit bowl and milk in the fridge and I’m learning to lunge for the teapot rather than the corkscrew when six o clock comes round, so all the pieces are coming together. When you see a Meal Planning Monday post from me, it is then that you will know that I’m there.

Oh, frabjous day!

I toddled along to my weigh in last night past a large group of young women wearing police hats. Yes, it is apparently freshers' week here in Leeds. I have nothing against students apart from the obvious pangs of jealousy at their youth and good skin, but goodness they are very loud.

Anyway, to the scales. You may recall that this was a two week result - but also that my hopes were not overly high given my (relatively) packed social calendar. The gods of WW however were clearly in a benevolent mood and I clocked in a nine (yes, nine) pound loss. Get me!

D has promised me a bottle of fizz if I can shift another five this week but, to be honest, after a start like that - which I think is in part down to luck rather than judgement - I'll be happy with any slight downward movement. Onwards, comrades!

Pimms o'clock

Winter may be fast approaching (today I am wearing a scarf in honour of this; still no coat though, I keep that until the temperature really starts to drop) but Saturday saw us comfortably installed in an upper room at the Leeds Living Room enjoying a Pimms tasting of all things.

I mention the seasons because for me, as for many other people I suspect, Pimms is the quintessential summer drink. Take the summer of 2000; I was in my third term of university, the object of study was the Bard himself, the sun seemed to shine every day and my college boasted the oldest bowling green in Europe. What else can you expect a load of English students to do but lie out on the grass, propped up copies of The Riverside Shakespeare and sup Pimms all day long – sometimes with a shot of gin to turbo it, and us, up a bit. Happy, happy days.

The prospect of a Pimms tasting session was, therefore, too good to resist, chill winds and autumn leaves notwithstanding. And what a session it was! I would say that it left me with a new found respect for the beloved liqueur – but it is perhaps more accurate to say it left me feeling slightly queasy on the way round IKEA the next morning. This was NOT one of those tastings where you feel short changed. The first drink was poured within five minutes and it didn’t really stop flowing for the next hour and a half.

Pimms was originally created back in the mid nineteenth century as a more palatable alternative to gin. Although gin based, it also contained ingredients such as borage and citrus – the exact recipe remains a closely guarded secret to this day. This gin based fruit cup is the Pimms no 1 which is still produced. Over the years five more variants were created, each based upon a different spirit. Most are no longer easily obtainable, although Pimms no 3, which is the brandy version, has been rebranded as Winter Pimms and occasionally surfaces at Christmas.

And so we drank. We drank Pimms with gin, lemonade and coriander – an unusual herb but one designed to pick up on a particular botanical of the gin. We drank a Pimms whisky sour both with and without ginger beer (absolutely delicious – destined to become my Christmas cocktail of choice). We drank Pimms with spiced rum, fresh ginger, lime and mint. And we finished with a Pimms Royale – Pimms with orange vodka, strawberry and basil mixed with a combination of ginger ale and lemonade. In between, we had tots of the individual spirits (so we could taste them in isolation you understand – purely scientific) and sampled a supermarket own brand fruit cup (verdict: lacking the depth and complexity of the original but perfectly serviceable when mixed with lemonade and fruit and one third of the price). There was cake as well.

All in all, a delightful way to spend a Saturday afternoon. The website for the Drinks Workshop, which offers classes in a variety of different spirits can be found here although I am not sure what locations are on offer outside of Leeds. Still, if you fancy coming to up here and spending a few hours getting tipsily educated and eating cake, this is highly recommended.

In which I am frightened of melting

After all that lovely support on my last post I was eager to come on here this week and post my weigh in result. HOWEVER. I missed my meeting! For those of you who don’t live in the frozen North, the weather has been woeful for the past few days so I decided to book a taxi rather than walk for half an hour in the rain. And then the taxi didn’t turn up on time and the man from the taxi office got quite affronted with me for pointing out that a) not turning up on time and b) not letting me know they were not going to turn up on time was pretty piss poor customer service.

My bathroom scales, usually pretty reliable, have me well down but I am going to take them with a pinch of salt and wait until next Wednesday for the official scores on the doors. In the meantime, remember how I said that I had lots going on in October? This week I’m out for a curry to welcome some new starters at work, a Pimms tasting and a game cookery demonstration. In between, I will mainly be eating dust…

Sometimes there’s never a good time

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a dieter in search of a successful diet must commence said diet on a Monday. Preferably one that falls on the first of the month. And if there is a full moon at the same time, then so much the better.

So imagine my consternation when my friend texted me the other week to say that she was joining a WW meeting on a Wednesday evening and would I like to come along with her.

There were so many reasons to say no. For a start – Wednesday? That is soooo not the right day to start a diet. And the first meeting fell at the end of September – my new start was going to be October. And I was moving that week so meals would be up in the air. And, come to think of it, I had commitments throughout most weekends in October which would mean I’d never get a clear run at things and everyone knows you should always start when you’ve got a clear run so you can get some good losses under your belt before real life starts to kick in so perhaps I should hold off until November to get going.

Dear reader, I’m ashamed to say that all of these thoughts and more went through my head when I got that text.

But……..

I’m proud to say that I managed to push them all to one side and go along with her. And yes, this last week it has not always been easy to stay on plan. I’ve had some good days where I’ve managed to track accurately and some days where I haven’t, which has made me a little twitchy. I no doubt earned some activity points packing and humping around boxes which I have proceeded to consume in lovely, lovely post-move wine. And the thought of stepping on the scales tomorrow is making me a little bit nervous. But I reckon when the universe sends you a sign, even something as mundane as a new friend sending a text, you have to grab it and give it your best shot.

Slow cooker recipe corner: chicken cacciatore ("Hunter's stew")

I am moving back in with D this coming weekend and so looking forward to it. Glorious, glorious domesticity in all its lovely mundanity. In order to prepare, I’ve been spending the majority of the last few weekends there. D is still in charge of the kitchen at the moment which means I get cooked for which I enjoy very much – however, I suspect that will change and to be honest, I am looking forward to getting back into the routine of planning meals and cooking. I’ve been dreaming in recipes.

Anyway, Saturday night he dusted off the slow cooker and made a fabulous chicken stew that recently appeared on the Word of Mouth “Perfect” column (if you don’t read that, by the way, you really should – it’s very good). The list of ingredients is relatively short, but don’t be fooled – some sort of weird alchemy transforms these items into something much greater than the sum of their parts. We served with mashed potato and virtual box sets (we’re currently alternating between the final series of Dexter and season 3 of Game of Thrones – it’s a wonder that I have any fingernails left).

If you don't have a slow cooker I would suggest checking out the original recipe for appropriate oven temperatures and times. I would also suggest that you get one - they are extremely handy.

A word on portion size – I have reckoned on one thigh per person below, which I found more than sufficient. D went for two. Adjust points accordingly.

Ingredients

Tbsp olive oil
4 chicken thighs, skin on
Tbsp seasoned flour
2 heads of garlic, cut horizontally
Small bunch of rosemary
1 carrot, peeled and diced
1 stick of celery, diced
125ml white wine
250ml chicken stock
100g tinned plum tomatoes in juice, roughly chopped
15g butter

Serves 4, 9 pro points per portion

Heat the oil in a large pan. While it warms up, dust the chicken thighs in seasoned flour. Place skin side down in the pan and cook for a couple of minutes on each side until golden brown.

Transfer to the slow cooker.
In the same pan, fry the garlic heads, rosemary, carrot and celery for a few minutes until slightly golden. Again, transfer to the slow cooker.

Pour the wine into the pan to deglaze, stirring briskly to ensure all the lovely, crusty, chickeny bits are swooped up and let it bubble off and reduce slightly before tipping over the chicken and the vegetables. Add the stock and the tomatoes to the slow cooker pot and then cook on low for six hours, at which point the chicken will be falling off the bone and the sauce will be a lovely dark brown.

Using a slotted spoon, remove the chicken and the vegetables from the pot and set aside. Pour the sauce into a pan (you could use the one from earlier if you haven’t yet washed it – I’m all for saving washing up) and heat it to a brisk boil. Allow to reduce by about a third. Adjust the seasoning and finish with the butter to give a nice gloss.

Return the chicken and veg to the sauce and warm through before serving.

Sam's Chop House, Leeds: romance and corned beef

It was the wedding anniversary that we didn't think we'd see. A second wedding anniversary is such a little thing that it only represents paper or cotton, depending on which side of the Atlantic you live.  Such a very little, throwaway thing.  But a big deal for us.

However, with a move forthcoming and a big, Michelin starred dinner coming up at the end of next month. not to mention the fact that we have had a year of supporting two households rather than one, we decided to go cheap and cheerful in terms of a meal out.  And when D pointed me in the direction of the Sam's Chop House menu I was genuinely excited by the decision.  This was the kind of unashamedly British food that I absolutely adore but it seemed a little clever, a little quirky.  Poached chicken breast with chicken liver scampi?  How amazing does that sound? 

So, why an air of disappointment pervading this blog post like an autumn fog?  Perhaps because Sam's, the day before our wedding anniversary, decided to change their USP. They phoned and left an upbeat voicemail message explaining that the restaurant had decided to "go in a different direction" and offering us the chance to cancel our booking.  But we, either lazy or optimistic in the face of PR speak, decided to stick with it.  Only to find a menu that yes, was still unashamedly British but also unashamedly a little bit dull.  I wasn't expecting fireworks for a cotton anniversary, but a bit of a sparkler might have been nice.  Sam's is not a restaurant to go to for flashing lights of any description.

Starters: ham hock scotch egg was competently done - I thought the spicing of the meat was good and the egg yolk retained a moist gleam, even if it wasn't fully runny. 

Scotch egg!

I ordered goats' cheese rarebit with beetroot served on a pikelet.  I've eaten pikelets before - they are small, three bite affairs.  This was not.  The rarebit itself was fine - could have done with being a bit goatier - the pikelet was a doughy behemoth.  I adore cheese on toast, but I was a little concerned as I chomped through that it was going to have an adverse effect on my main course capacity.

Cheese on toast!

I was right to be concerned.  We had both ordered Sam's famous corned beef hash as it was the most vaguely interesting thing on the main course menu. This was a beast of a portion.  We could have shared it and still have had it coming out of our ears.  The flavours itself were good - crispy, salty bacon, soft potatoes and shards of decent beef all topped off with poached egg and brown sauce - nothing to dislike.  But, oh so much food.  And D's egg was overcooked.  Which made him a little bit cross, especially since he was still mourning the lack of chicken liver scampi.

Corned beef hash!

So I wanted to like Sam's, I really did.  It was the restaurant to which we went to celebrate the anniversary that we never thought we'd see.  But it was just a bit of a yawn.  A change in direction down one of those very neat, anodyne little cul-de-sacs, where every lawn is manicured within an inch of its life.  And if you're going to do such simple, classic cuisine then for God's sake make sure that the poached eggs are still runny in the middle. 

Still, happy anniversary D.  I love you very much and am very proud and happy that we got here.

Sam's Chop House
8 South Parade
Leeds
LS1 5QX

0113 2042490

Autumn Days

Today is beautifully sunny but there is something in the quality of the light and the feel of the air that speaks very clearly of autumn.  And that is not a problem for me as autumn is probably one of my favourite times of the year.  I like the dark nights, where you draw the curtains and light a couple of candles and put Strictly on the telly, and the cooler days and the smell of incipient winter.

Autumn, September, is also (for me at least) a time of fresh starts - the new school year.  This September is a little different as I am currently in the process of packing up and saying goodbye to this poor, maligned house.  I hope its next owners give it the love and TLC it deserves and put the splendid oven to better use than reheating ready meals.  It is all good, I am very happy and looking forward to going back to being a fulltime wife, but I intensely dislike transition periods.  Transition means unsettled and I am a creature who very much likes to be settled.

So forgive me if I am a little quiet over the next few weeks. Come October and I will be back cooking, meal planning, weighing in (there is a Saturday morning meeting just a five minute walk from my new house - I have No Excuse) and doing some sneaky non-WW-friendly eating out (we're going to Purnell's for D's birthday in October - MUCH excitement!)  Business as usual in fact.  You have been warned.

A WW Foodie guide to Mull, Tobermory and the eating of seafood

Although it may already be receding into a happy haze of whisky and sea squalls, I did want to spend a little bit of time regaling you as to our recent trip to Scotland, not least because it is a part of the world that I have really started to fall in love with over the past few years.

We have been visiting Ardnamurchan, the most westerly point of the British mainland, since 2009 and every year we have made the ferry trip across to Mull.  This year we decided to base ourselves on the island itself. 

Mull is not a big island.  It may well be the second largest of the Inner Hebrides after Skye (thank you, Wiki) but you can still cover it pretty comprehensively in the course of a week.  It is, however, an extremely beautiful one and, with a population of less than 3000, vast swathes of it are empty.  The landscape is quite stunning – great, rolling, verdant hills stitched through with areas of dense woodland and bright strips of sea appearing on the horizon round every corner.  It is rich in wildlife; we treated ourselves to an organised tour and in the course of a single day saw a family of white tailed eagles, a pair of otters and a basking shark – not to mention seals, buzzards and even a horny toad.  It is also (and this, of course, may be why it so dear to our hearts) rich in fabulous seafood – fishing being historically one of the island’s main income sources.

Views of Mull

It is not a place to go if you crave glamour and nightlife.  It is a place to go if you enjoy walking and sitting staring out to sea.  There is also culture to be found: theatre, an arts centre and even an artist's community based around the village of Dervaig.  One of their projects is the Calgary Art in Nature walk, where sculptures are scattered throughout the wooded path down to Calgary Bay.

Calgary Art in Nature

We based ourselves just outside Tobermory, which is the island’s capital and home to a quarter of the residents.  Tobermory is quite ridiculously picturesque.  It was the setting for a mid naughties children’s’ programme called Balamory and quite understandably so – with its row of brightly coloured buildings and sweeping, bay side street it looks as if it has fallen out of a storybook.  The main problem (if it can be called such) with Tobermory is that pretty much every other person you meet is a tourist and if, like us, you go towards the end of the season, the locals are becoming somewhat frayed.  Having lived in York for many years I can sympathise. 

Tobermory

Isn't it lovely?  There is not a lot to Tobermory...the main road is pretty much it, and it is generally geared towards the tourist market being primarily pubs, cafes and crafty type establishments.  There is a very nice chocolate shop and a deli that sells Mull cheddar. Tobermory also boasts its own whisky distillery, pottery and handmade soap shop.  And, let us not forget, Tobermory Cat who spends most of his time suffering tourists, posing for postcards and maintaining his Facebook and Twitter accounts.

Tobermory Cat

If you stay self catering in Tobermory you should not expect to be able to purchase more than the basics once you are in situ.  There is a Co-op supermarket which can provide milk and tins, a nice deli and bakery and a fishmonger located just outside of the main town, but little else that we located.  This is not a major problem given that there at least three very nice places to eat.

The first, Café Fish, I have written about before.  It has been voted the top fish restaurant in the entire country by the Good Food Guide and that is mainly because it sources amazing produce and then cooks it with a sensitive but unerring touch.

The biggest razor clams you ever did see

 

Langoustines and squat lobsters

Our new discovery this year was MacGoghan’s, a pub cum restaurant located on the far end of the main street.  It is undoubtedly pub food but very, very good – D had a steak with scallops in a creamy paprika sauce.  These were not only ingredients of spectacular quality but the dish was also cooked incredibly well.  Surf and turf par excellence.

Tobermory steak: topped with scallops and a creamy paprika sauce

And of course, the fish and chip van seems to be something of a Tobermory institution.  We had our first taste of deep fried scallops this year and the combination of the sweet, dense flesh, perfectly cooked within its crispy batter was an utter revelation.  I covered mine in ketchup much to D’s disgust.

Fish, chips and deep fried scallops.  With ketchup.

If I say that no sooner had we got home then we started planning our next trip up there it will perhaps express how hard we have fallen for the West of Scotland.  As holidays go, this one was pretty much perfect.  And the fact that it ended with D asking me to move in with him come the beginning of October means that Mull will always hold a very special place in my heart as the location where a marriage was finally mended.

A collage of greed...

Sad to be back

I should be out bowling at this precise moment in time but my recent holiday has obviously led to a reduced tolerance for the workplace as I have come home to nurse a crushing headache and look mournfully at pictures of Mull instead.

Blue sky in Scotland!

So, yes, holidays.  As they go, this one was pretty lovely.  I am entirely enamoured with Scotland and plan to post a little bit more about Mull and Tobermory later this week.  In the meantime, let's touch upon the thorny subject of weight loss, or rather, lack thereof.  It turns out that I've got maintenance down - my weight this morning was exactly the same as it was in the beginning of August.  Considering there's been a week away in there in which haggis pizza may or may not have been consumed (don't knock it till you've tried it...) that's not too bad at all.



Haggis pizza!

But progress is what is now required - it's a new school year so it is time to set some positive goals.  For this week, that's just going to be about getting back into the habit of tracking and doing some proper meal planning.  Lack of organisation is a real issue for me at the moment - today all I have eaten is two biscuits, which is just plain daft.  Although they were very nice biscuits...

The view from the living room window

Greetings from the Isle of Mull and, more specifically, the absurdly picturesque town of Tobermory.

Our holiday cottage is actually located up a steep hill above the main high street. This means that every morning we awake to this beautiful view:


It also means that any trip into town necessitates a ten minute huffy-puffy trek back. Considering my dislike of...well, any hill, it seems like the kind of thing that I would have checked when booking the accommodation.

At least I can tell myself that all the marching up steep inclines is helping to burn off the lovely food. We've been hitting the local seafood with a vengeance (D's fingers are riddled with tiny scratches where he did battle with a set of particularly recalcitrant langoustines yesterday). Expect more of my own very specially amateur brand of food photography to abound when we get back.

Further food for thought: More notes from a CBT session

Disclaimer as before:

I wanted to put some notes down about my ongoing CBT sessions, primarily for my own benefit. While sometimes the content may sound fairly negative, these words do not represent my mood for the majority of the time when I am my usual (sort of) cheery self. I hope that some of these observations could prove useful for others who have ever used food or any other substances in a slightly unhealthy way. I am not a medical professional and so if anything here is ringing lots and lots of bells then I would suggest you go and speak to your GP in the first instance. CBT, as well as many other counselling services, are available on the NHS albeit with a waiting list.

For those of you who follow this blog for somewhat lighter ramblings about dieting and dining then do feel free to skip.

The power of the mind is utterly, utterly breathtaking. After a really positive couple of sessions on emotional acceptance, my sneaky brain responded by reverting to past form. A good few years ago I used to suffer regularly from horrible panic attacks which D and I nicknamed “wobbles”. These wobbles had all but disappeared but they have slunk back into the picture over the last few weeks, the little tinkers, and much as I am better at dealing them now than previously (at one stage my preferred method was to take to my bed like a Victorian maiden aunt for days at a time) they are still unpleasant in the extreme. I discussed this with Earnest Ross. He looked very earnest indeed and commented that the brain will go to extreme lengths to protect its sense of identity. If you start to try and unpick that – even the unhealthy bits – it will react. Which is fairly frustrating since I don’t want my sense of identity to be that of a dipsomaniac overeater with a tendency to lose the ability to move from the sofa when things get tough (this, by the way, is a recognised form of distress tolerance called withdrawal – not sheer bloody laziness, although it looks very similar).

The key, it seems, is to work on identifying one’s core values. Once you have those then you can start to identify actions and shape your behaviours in such a way that they contribute to or move towards a life which is built around things that are important to you. It sounds screamingly obvious, but then, so does the idea of being mindful and I know for a fact that it takes a great deal of concentration and effort to live in a consistently mindful way.

My core, it turns out, is pretty people orientated. I instinctively identify my values as being first and foremost based around my family and my relationship – I want to be a good wife, a good daughter, a good sister, a good aunt. I also, somewhat surprisingly, value my professional life highly. I have never thought of myself as desperately ambitious but, on reflection, I do set a lot of store by the fact that I am a professional woman with a job that is as demanding as it is rewarding. I have an idea of where I want to be in ten years and it will require hard work and effort but, with application, is achievable.

So it seems as if I am learning about who I want to be and where I want to go…I suppose that, in itself, is the first step on the road that actually takes me there.

Recipe corner - Ottolenghi's mango and papaya salsa

I was commenting on a blog the other week and I observed that practically every Saturday I bookmark Yotam Ottolenghi's recipe column for the Guardian, although, given the rate at which I accumulate new things to cook and then singularly fail to cook them, the dishes seldom get made.  Which is a shame because Ottolenghi writes about food that I really want to eat.  I think I've mentioned his vegetarian book "Plenty" on here before and if you don't own it then I heartily recommend you go out and make it a part of your collection.  It will convince even the most ardent carnivore in your life that you don't need meat to eat exceptional food. 

This recipe comes from the original Ottolenghi cookbook which I bought D for his birthday last year.  Foolishly, I didn't think to go through and photocopy the entire thing before I handed it over, so I don't know what the book as a whole is like, but this salsa was amazing.  A-ma-zing.  On Friday last we had it with tuna steaks but we were trying to conflate two dishes that didn't really want to be conflated.  However, we enjoyed the salsa element so much that we decided to give it another go and allow it to be the star which is how we came to eat it one night with grilled lamb and wild rice.  These are bold flavours that enjoy the companionship of red meat and a robust fish like tuna, but I honestly think you could serve it with chicken as well, perhaps in a wrap with a drizzle of yoghurt.  Or, you could just eat it out of the bowl.  Whatever.  Just try it.

Incidentally, Mr Ottolenghi says that it benefits from being allowed to steep in the fridge for a few days.  We concur. At the very least, prepare it for an hour before you wish to serve it. The ingredient quantities below should be taken as approximate - the only things that will impact on the points are the olive oil and sugar.

Ingredients

½ cucumber, peeled, seeded and cut into cubes
1 large, ripe papaya, peeled, seeded and cut into cubes
1 large, ripe mango, peeled, stoned and cut into cubes
1 red chilli finely chopped
Tbsp grated root ginger (NB: we grate ours straight from the freezer with a Microplane which gives excellent results every time)
1 small red onion, finely chopped
Juice of ½ lemon
2 tbsp Thai fish sauce
2 tbsp olive oil
Tbsp caster sugar

Makes approximately 6-8 servings (2 pro points per portion if 8)

Method: um, combine ingredients. Season, taste and adjust as required.

Moving on (up?)

I recently made the decision that I am going to move out of my current property come the end of September.  I don't know yet if my destination will be D's house or somewhere entirely different but it has become increasingly clear to me that staying here will mean I run the risk of wallowing.

It's such a shame as the house I live in is lovely, if a little impractical (being spread across four floors) and so handy for work and I want so much to love it but...it's a bit when you were a teenager, buying a beautiful dress and then wearing it on a really bad date.  The negative associations linger like the smell of Lynx deodorant.

So as of the 1st October it will be a fresh start, either as a housewife in Leeds suburbia or elsewhere.  I mean, I'll still be working in Leeds so by elsewhere I mean...another part of Leeds.  Or possibly Harrogate.  Just not here.  One thing is definitely for sure.  At some point early in October you, my lovely blog readers will log on to a post in which I say that this time, this fresh start will be the one where I achieve that state of Nirvana which is Goal Weight.  And you, because you are lovely, will cheer me on and agree with me despite the fact this is the eleventy billionth time you have heard it.

I feel like I should thank you in advance...

Salts Mill and barbecued chicken: a good day

Whatever my last post may imply, it's not all doom and gloom chez Seren.  Take Saturday, for instance.  Saturday was a Very Good Day.

When we lived in York, D and I used to set whole days aside to go round and visit all the tourist hotspots.  It's so easy to take stuff for granted when it is under your nose.  We haven't done so much of that in Leeds - the whole marriage separation thang may be partly responsible - but last Saturday we went to visit Salts Mill which has been on the radar for a while.

It's a funny old place.  A Grade II listed World Heritage Site which is essentially a middle class shopping Mecca.  It's an old mill building, dating back to the 1850s which has been converted into a peculiar mash up of gallery (primarily Hockney) and very, very exclusive shopping mall complete with eateries.  It sounds like I'm being sneery and I really am not.  I had a fabulous time wandering around and I would urge anyone in the Bradford area to pop along for a mooch.  I intend to do all my Christmas shopping there.

Of course, being a responsible food blogger I insisted that we stop for lunch at the Salts Mill Diner (one of, I think, three separate places to eat).

I went for one of the specials of mushroom ravioli with spinach in a garlic and chilli butter.  It was nice, although rather polite - every component could have been taken up a notch or two.  D opted for a chicken Caesar salad, a rather unusual choice for him which he appeared to enjoy well enough although I, personally, was rather perturbed by the inclusion of olives. 

Given that we were both rather restrained and resisted the urge to indulge our mutual love of kitchen implements and overpriced stationery, on the way back we treated ourselves to a trip to Waitrose to stock up on Saturday Night Provisions which included the wee beastie on the left; a spatchcocked chicken which we left to bathe in a concoction of olive oil, half a head of crushed garlic, lemon juice and lemon thyme leaves before setting to cook over white hot coals.  The result was an utter delight.  I have long been wary of barbecued chicken but spatchcocking is undoubtedly the answer: twenty minutes on each side gave perfectly cooked results.  I left the butchery element to the male contingent but he reports it to be quite disarmingly easy.  We served the meat with nothing more than salad and crusty bread which is, quite frankly, all it really required.

It was a quiet, pottering sort of day but a lovely one nonetheless.  The kind of day that it is good to remember during darker moments (see last post.  Or not.)