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.)

Food for thought: Notes from a CBT session

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.

Cognitive behavioural therapy involves far less talking about the death of your first pet hamster (RIP Pythagorus) and far more trying to identify patterns of thought and emotion and the attendant behaviours that these provoke. So, before you deal with the negative behaviours – in my case that potent combination of panic attacks and self medicating with cheese on toast and cheap wine – you have to pinpoint the moment when the urge to enact it arises. And then, once you have done that, you can start to identify positive behaviours with which to replace them. Otherwise you are left with gaping voids and black holes and they are never good, except as science fiction plot devices.

For me, one of the hardest things about the past year has been all the empty time. It’s the fact that I can go home from work at five, get back to work at nine the next morning and not have spoken to a soul in between. And I’m not talking about meaningful conversation, just the type of mundane chat with which anyone fills their evening – those thin, glistening threads that connect you to the rest of the world. I start to feel disjointed, faraway. I’m not someone who finds it easy to pick up the phone to a friend so I sit and eventually find myself retreating into the places in my head that are deeper in shadow.

Weekends are the worst for this. Especially those weekends when there is nothing arranged. But, having said that, even some weekends where I have had distractions lined up in the diary I have ended up cancelling them because, buried deep within my lair of duvet, the outside world seems a very distant and frightening place indeed.

And when it comes to filling the emptiness and the silence that is when my old friends and comfort blankets reappear. Some people take succour in music, others in exercise, for me it is the familiar foods and a few glasses of wine to soften the edges of the vast, quiet space.

And so firstly I must learn to sit with the emotions that being in the deep, deep quiet invokes. I must learn to be present with the sense of fear and loneliness, the nagging anxiety that I am unloved and unlovable. We talked about how these emotions could be visualised; as clouds perhaps, or leaves in a stream, or people leaving and entering a room – the point being, of course, that they are transient, that they pass and when they have passed rationality re-emerges and with it an end to the automatic groping for something, anything to help. And then, when the immediacy of the emotions has gone and the urge to act has waned, then you find something else.

One immediate concern of mine was that these behaviours are so deep entrenched as to become almost instinctive reactions – I’m alone, I’m sad, I’m angry – I eat. How can I find the impetus to use these techniques when the first time I’m really aware of what I’m doing is when I’m halfway through a family size bar of Dairy Milk? It’s not easy. We discussed visual stimuli – if using the cloud visualisation, for example, having a picture or a prompt to hand or even just going outside (although the neighbours may wonder what I’m doing standing in the middle of the yard staring up at the sky…) And breathe, breathe, breathe. The most immediate thing you can do to ground yourself is close your eyes and just focus on the process of breathing.

Finally, and I think that this is important; I need to remember that negative emotion isn’t a bad thing in itself. Sometimes, it is a fundamental evolutionary tool – fear, for example, fear can keep us safe. Sadness or anger can highlight for us areas of our life that need work and change. Or they can remind us of how much we love and are loved. They are part of the human condition, and a necessary part at that.

Steady as she goes

I’m all about the even keel at the moment.

My weight loss, over the last couple of months, has been pretty small. But, but, but. I am, as of Saturday, six pounds down from my all time high. The main thing to my mind is that I have arrested the steady increase that has characterised this last year, as erratic eating habits, one too many glasses of wine and a lack of interest in anything remotely resembling physical activity has taken its toll. So that is good. That is progress. I have accepted that until the situation with D is resolved once and for all, I won’t be too hard on myself. Maintenance is ok if it what I need to get me through these last few weeks of uncertainty with my sanity intact. It has to be mindful maintenance though. I have got back into the habit of a daily hop on the scales (which are a most pleasing shade of fuchsia pink). I know daily weighing is not for everyone but for me it is a small act of mindfulness every day. When I am not doing it, it is because I know that I won’t like what I see.

Oh, and talking of sanity, marriage counselling may now be over (the lovely Josie has nodded off into the sunset) but my own personal course of CBT sessions have now started with Earnest Ross. He nods a lot less but has a very emphatic head tilt. Also, he is the first mental health professional that I have ever met who doesn’t automatically proffer tissues when the inevitable snivelling starts. He expects you to reach for your own tissues. Perhaps he views independence and pro-activity as important parts of the therapy process.

Recipe corner: Banana and cinnamon blondies

When I returned from my jaunting at the weekend I was met by the sad sight of two dead bananas in the fruit bowl. Not just on the turn, or a bit spotty, but dead. And they’d taken half a lemon with them.

Now, we all know that the only thing a dead banana is good for is baking. Usually I turn to my go-to recipe for banana bread but I decided to go for something a little different which I’ve had bookmarked for a while.

I think I ever so slightly over cooked these, so I’ve adjusted the baking time to reflect that. Brownies and blondies are tricky animals – you want them crusty on top and gooey in the middle and these were tending towards the cakey in the outer pieces. I also have upped the cinnamon on the original recipe, but then I am a cinnamon fiend, so feel free to turn it back down. It’s subsequently occurred to me that these would be fantastic with pecans rather than hazelnuts and also that chunks of white chocolate running through might be quite tasty – although given how sweet these little beauties are already this might push them over the edge.

Oh, and also, these are seriously good as a pudding – try blasting them in the microwave for 30 seconds and then serving with half fat crème fraiche and a trickle of golden syrup or toffee sauce. Divine.

I’ve suggested cutting these into sixteen pieces, but, to be honest they are sweet enough that twenty would probably do as well – this would reduce them to 4 pro points each which is well worth it.

Ingredients

2 dead bananas, mashed
125g unsalted butter
325g light brown sugar
150g plain flour
2 scant tsp baking powder
Pinch of salt
3 tsp cinnamon
2 eggs
2 tsp vanilla extract
50g chopped hazelnuts (or any other nut you happen to fancy)

Makes 16, 5 pro points per portion

Although easy to make, these blondies to require a few different bowls. So be prepared for some washing up while they are in the oven.

Speaking of the oven, preheat to 180. And line a square baking tin – 8 by 8 should give you a decent depth.

In a saucepan, over a low heat, melt together the butter and the sugar until it is liquid gold. Set aside to cool slightly.

Sieve together the flour, baking powder, salt and cinnamon.

Lightly beat the eggs together with the vanilla essence. Pour in the cooled butter and sugar, stir, add the chopped nuts and mashed banana and stir again until well combined.

Now gently mix in your dried ingredients. You will be presented with quite a loose batter. Pour into the prepared tin.

Bake for around 20 minutes and check – the top should be golden and crusty and there should be a slight wobble to the cake which will set as it cools. It may require more time but keep an eye on it after the 20 minutes stage.

Allow to cool slightly before turning out and cutting into sixteen pieces. Serve with a cup of tea. Those bananas did not die in vain.

Messing about on the river (but only after lunch)

The sky over Leeds may be as grey as grey can be this morning, but at least, if last weekend proved to be the last of the summer proper, I'll be safe in the knowledge that I actually got out and did something in the sunshine.

Gherkin!

Friday saw me winging my way down to London to go to the open air theatre in Regent's Park to see a production of "Pride and Prejudice" which was absolutely fantastic.  The setting is utterly lovely as well though, the trees and trellises of the overpriced bar strung through with fairly lights, the fireflies zinging through the gathering dusk....oh, I came over all goosepimply.  Lovely stuff.  If you live down that way I heartily recommend it for an evening's entertainment.  One can dine there beforehand, or, you can do as we did and pop to M&S for a sandwich to enjoy on the grass outside the theatre.  That way you have more money for the overpriced bar.

On Saturday, boasting the kind of eye bags that can only be brought about by staying up drinking wine in a gay pub until four in the morning, we headed to York and Albany in Camden, with a view to nixing the hangover prior to a riverboat trip.  This is a Gordon Ramsay place that I can't say had been on my radar particularly but was very pleasant indeed.  We sat in the bar area which meant that the whole party had access to both the bar and restaurant menus - ideal if you are in a largeish group with varying tastes.  I, of course, got over excited at the sight of the a la carte and went ahead with that, but others opted for the stone baked pizzas (which looked gorgeous) and the bar burger, complete with a side of chips caused serious food envy when it arrived.

My choice of starter, after a restoratively spicy Bloody Mary, were some tasty but rather unphotogenic sweetbreads (top, right).  I was exceedingly happy that these arrived on toast (most things are improved this way) and loved the iron rich cream sauce.  Personally, if something on a menu is described as being served with broad beans and mint I would expect to a) taste mint and b) see more than three or four broad beans but hey ho. 

I followed that with a skate wing in burnt butter with capers and watercress (middle, right).  Such a simple dish but so delicious if done well, which this was, with no skimping on the butter or the punchy little capers.

Finally, it had to be done - profiteroles with elderflower cream.  Again, not the most photogenic of dishes, and  the elderflower taste was incredibly delicate and could have done with being taken up a notch so as to hold its own next to the rich chocolate.  Still, enjoyable stuff.

It was generally agreed that where York and Albany really excelled was its drink menu.  Between us we managed to sample a fair few cocktails including an amazing rhubarb and ginger mule that, as you can see from the picture, was served in a seriously cute little copper mug.  Cocktails were priced at £9.50 a pop for the most part, which is not ridiculously expensive for central London, and real care and attention was lavished on them by the bar staff.

Altogether a very enjoyable place to while away a Saturday lunchtime - and, I should add, that we took up residence on the largest bar table for a full three and a half hours with nary so much as an eyelid flicker from any of the lovely staff to indicate that they would quite like it back at some point - and then proceeded to split the bill across seven credit cards (differing amounts on each) which was met with smiles and cheeriness.  They earned their 12.5% I reckon.

Rolling, rather than walking, we arrived at Camden Lock.

Barges and bunting

The princely sum of £11.50 will get you a riverbus trip down to Little Venice and back which is an extremely pleasant way to digest a rather too big lunch.

So, as I said, this morning's grey skies are not going to get me down.  I've had a weekend of good times with good friends and there's a little boozy food baby to prove it.  Detox starts here... 

Recipe corner: Sea bass with Parmesan risotto and cherry tomatoes

Sometimes, when we’re dining out, D and I like to play a guessing game whereby we try and predict what the other will order. Yes, I know what you’re thinking – you’re thinking how much fun it would be to have us as dining companions and you’d be right. Barrel of laughs, that’s us. But it’s a long standing tradition now.

The thing is, the game has revealed me to be distressingly predictable when it comes to certain ingredients. If a given item appears on the menu that D knows I am 99% likely to choose it. I make it too easy. And I am not particularly motivated to fight those inclinations.

Sea bass, for example. Or just plain bass as I believe we should call it now. It is, quite simply, one of my absolute favourite things. If it pops up on a menu D has the game won because I just can’t resist. It seems odd, therefore, that I don’t cook with it more – particularly since it is so low in points as well! A decent sized fillet is just 3 pro points, not much more than 100 calories.

I tend to associate sea bass with Mediterranean type flavours; for a fairly delicate fish it goes surprisingly well with a range of robust ingredients. Equally, it can hold its own in the face of spice, and I have had it served in with an Indian curry style sauce that worked very well indeed. This weekend though, I went very simple to allow all the lovely, natural flavour to sing.

Incidentally this risotto, though as basic as basic can be, is absolutely delicious and would work as an accompaniment for all sorts of ingredients. Don’t be put off by the seemingly meagre portion of rice, it is rich enough to be perfectly satisfying.


Ingredients

2 x sea bass fillets (about 120g each)
Tbsp olive oil

Cherry tomatoes (preferably on the vine – they look so pretty!)

30g butter
Shallot, finely chopped
60ml vermouth (use white wine if you haven’t got any)
100g Arborio rice
300ml chicken stock
40g Parmesan cheese, finely grated

Serves 2, 16 pro points per portion

Switch the oven to 180 and whack in the cherry tomatoes to roast – they’ll take about 30 minutes but are relatively forgiving.

For the risotto, melt half the butter in a sturdy pan and, when ready, soften the shallot. When it is translucent (do not allow it to brown, you want mellow flavours here) tip in the rice, stir well to ensure that it is coated and then add the vermouth and allow to bubble off.

At this stage you know the drill: add a ladle of stock at a time and stir briskly, bashing the grains of rice about the pan, to absorb. Continue to do this for as long as it takes to cook the rice to the al dente stage – I would say about ten minutes, but keep checking the grains and work to your own taste. You may find you don’t use all the stock.

The fish will take about four minutes to cook, so time it to coincide roughly with the risotto being ready. Season the fillet well – the skin in particular needs a good sprinkling of salt. When ready, heat the oil in a pan – you want it really hot to enable you to get a good, crisp skin without overcooking the fish. Place the fillets skin side down into the hot pan and leave for three minutes. After that, flip them, turn the heat right down and allow them just a further minute to finish cooking.

When the risotto is cooked, add the remainder of the butter and the Parmesan, cover and leave to sit for a minute or so – don’t be tempted to skip this step, it really does make a difference.

Serve risotto and fish garnished with the cherry tomatoes and reflect upon the fact that, however predicable you may be, at least you have excellent taste.

A sad day for York foodies

Our beloved J Baker’s is closed.

We thought that it had looked quiet lately. But still, this was unexpected and rather sad. If ever I had a sentimental attachment to a restaurant it was that one, as my many mentions of it on here might have indicated. For me, the food was never anything less than delicious, but more than that, it had wit, humour, flair all rooted very firmly in locality and nostalgia. I shall miss it very much and am glad we made the effort to go back there recently.

On a wider point though, it is bad news for the York restaurant scene which (in my opinion) has never been as good as it should be. There are, in common with many cities in the UK, too many chains and, among the non chains, too many mediocre middle of the road establishments that are frightened to offer anything different. With the wealth of tourist footfall through the city, I would have thought there is plenty of scope for more dining experiences akin to J Baker’s. Sadly, it looks like I'm wrong.

I remain hopeful that Jeff Baker has merely opted for a change in direction – a comment on the York Evening Press website referred to him moving to another city -  and if that is the case then I wish him well and hope to dine with him again someday soon. And, to ease the blow, Andrew Pern of the superlative Star Inn is opening a new place in York this autumn which I am very, very, very excited about. After all, this is the man to whom I entrusted my wedding breakfast.

Recipe corner - Trout and Parma ham

I was browsing a couple of new food blogs the other day and was struck by the utter beauty of the accompanying photography.  Damn these people who are able to create delicious food and make it look good too.  It's not just the finished products that look good either - it's the casually strewn about strands of spaghetti, the gentle curve of a cherry tomato on the side of a saucer, or an artfully placed carrot/knife installation.  I've tried to do that, I really have, and they just look like I'm being my usual, haphazard self.  What I want to know is, do these people ever eat a hot meal?  I mean, really, when I'm plating up my dinner my thought processes are usually along the lines of "Must get food to belly as quickly as possible*....oh, should take a picture for the blog, where's the phone, grab, point, click - and we'll see if I can Instagram it into oblivion later."

*The naked greed demonstrated by this sentence is probably one of the reasons that I am fat.

Anyway, for today's example of the worst food photographer on the Blogosphere I give you:

Yeah.  Lucky it tasted good.

This is surf and turf Nigel Slater style, based very closely upon his original recipe here.  Trout, smeared with flavoured butter, wrapped in Parma ham and baked in the oven it was one of the tastiest things that I have cooked and eaten in a while.  And, despite a generous helping of butter, points friendly. 

I chose to make the butter in advance and chill it.  You could avoid this step and just smear the room temperature butter on the fish when assembling which would be a slightly quicker albeit messier process.  I'd probably just end up getting butter everywhere and be forced to lick it off my fingers.*

*The ardent love of butter demonstrated in this sentence is probably another reason why I am fat.

I served this with new potatoes which could be squished into the buttery juices, and the tail end of this year's asparagus (sob!)

Ingredients

2 trout fillets (approx. 110g each)
50g Parma ham in thin slices
30g butter
Clove of garlic, crushed
Tsp dried sage (or use fresh if, unlike me, you remember to buy it; dried worked perfectly well)
2 lemon wedges
Handful of flatleaf parsley, roughly chopped.

Serves 2, 8 pro points per portion

Make the butter in advance if you wish; ensure the butter itself is at room temperature and mash together with the crushed garlic, sage and some seasoning.  Tip the softened butter onto a small square of clingfilm and roll up into a little sausage of artery clogging goodness.  Bung in the fridge for a couple of hours to firm up.

When ready to cook, preheat the oven to 180.

Divide your slices of Parma ham into two portions and lay out vertically on a board.  Season the trout and then set, horizontally and skin side up, on the top of the ham to form a cross shape. 

Remove the butter sausage from the fridge, liberate from the clingfilm and thinly slice.  Lay the slices of butter on top of the trout.  Wrap the Parma ham around the trout fillet not bothering if the ends remain exposed.

Sit the fish, skin side up, in a baking dish with the two wedges of lemon.  Bake in the oven for 15-20 minutes.  Before serving, squeeze over the roasted lemon juice and sprinkle with chopped parsley.

Why isn't ert the opposite of inert?

I have been known to “hang out” (get me with the modern parlance) on the WW message boards from time to time. Weight loss – especially when you have a bit to lose – is like…I don’t know, golf, in that it is one of those things that becomes incredibly interesting and all consuming to you in a way that is utterly inexplicable to those who can’t relate.

Anyhoo, there is a lovely lady, K, on there who had lost stones and stones and who now runs seasonal challenges for other people – she puts you into teams and then you report your weight loss (or lack thereof) each week and she sends motivational messages and awards stars to the individuals and teams who lose the most weight…it’s all very much the kind of thing I appreciate and I thought I’d join this season for some additional motivation. I am in team 3 and they are lucky to have me (hollow laugh).

I had to report a gain for my first week of the challenge – which will be no surprise to anyone who saw my rather depressing post yesterday. I commented to K that real life was getting in the way of Weight Watching and she sent me a lovely response back:

You’re so right about real life interfering with our WW efforts! I think if you just stick at it, things will get better on the WW front. I look at it as a measure of my control over a small piece of a chaotic world. Everything else might be going wrong, but if I have control over what I eat, things are good in one part of my life.

Wise words indeed, from a woman who has proved that it is possible to lose a substantial amount of weight and, what’s even more incredible, keep it off.

So – things may be up in the air with D but today, just today, I’m going to take back a bit of control elsewhere.

I am inert

July. How did it get to be July? Just two more months and we reach the point of the calendar at which D and I said that we would make a final decision as to the future of our marriage.

This poor little blog has drifted away from its original purpose this year. It hasn’t been a blog about losing weight (although the scales have started to flurry downwards in recent weeks – and I’ve actually been stepping on the scales which is progress). It hasn’t really been a blog about food either, meal out posts aside, because the food I’ve been eating at home has been highly uninteresting. I don’t suppose anyone stumbling across it nowadays would feel inspired to learn more about Weight Watchers (although I am not, and never wish to be, an out and out advert for the company – I just happen to think that their healthy eating plan is eminently doable and sensible) or listen to a word I have to say on the subject of healthy eating. I still love it (the blog) though. I love the fact that it is an opportunity to do a little bit of writing every now and again and writing is something that really makes my heart sing. I love that I have retained little vignettes of my life across the past few years – and yes, most of them are food related but to be honest I have always been someone who measures out their days in meals rather than coffee spoons. And I want to continue to write it and, hopefully, make it less of the one woman pity party that it occasionally veers towards.

I guess that I am partly contemplating this now because I am distracted at the thought of the approaching deadline. If we decide to get back together, this blog will hopefully subside back into a cosy record of domestic meals and a suburban housewife’s battle of the bulge. But if we don’t? What then?

I recognise that my life cannot proceed in this, the state of limbo that I have existed in since last September. That, for me, has been the hardest thing about this process. The initial, horrific pain has subsided – as pain generally does – to a dull ache of loss. But the mourning process that must proceed from a relationship break up that I’ve not been able to fully go through. I feel like I’m caught in aspic – not quite single, not quite a wife. And it’s making me very, very tired now. Tired, and fed up and stubbornly resisting committing myself properly to anything. Like counting points. Or sorting out my messy spare room. Or knocking a couple of annoying tasks off my work to-do list. Or being anything other than inert.

Or perhaps it is just the weather. Let us be British and blame the weather instead.

J Baker's Bistro Moderne: NOT a York based fairy tale

Whatever the lovely Peridot may believe, J Baker's superlative restaurant in York does open occasionally.  Their opening hours do look to have been reduced recently; I hope this is an indication that Jeff is planning to rest on his laurels a bit rather than one of straitened economic times, but who knows nowadays.  Anthony's in Leeds has demonstrated that even top quality places in vibrant city centres can suffer in this sad, post-recession day and age.

Anyway, D and I went to JB for dinner last night to celebrate the fact that I passed an exam (hurrah!) and also just because we hadn't been in ever so long....it turns out that I still miss York terribly.  It also turns out that walking is a dangerous sport for me - I did something distinctly odd to my left calf while traversing from the bus stop to the office (about three minutes) which means that stairs are currently problematic (difficult when you live in a four storey house).

That aside, looks at the yummy stuff we had to eat:

Yum.

Yes, that's right, I got the Picasa app recently and am now totally au fait with this collage thing...

But, seriously, can I draw your attention to perfectly cooked spiced duck breast - dense and tender of flesh, crispy of skin (main, left).  Or mussels steamed over local beer with butter and peas (top, centre).  Or a crispy, filo wrapped, delicately seasoned take on a classic pork pie (bottom, right).  The only sadness for me was that the set dinner dessert was rice pudding, which is one of my very few pet hates.

Fantastic restaurant, beautiful city, happy foodie.  The only sadness for me was the look of approbation from the home scales this morning but still.  Some meals are worth it.

Bits and McBobs

We passed this very aptly named shop while wandering the streets of Stirling last week:

 

 

Amusingly named retail outlets aside, Stirling, in general, does not appear to have an awful lot to it.  There is a castle, which we had vaguely thought of visiting until we saw the admission charges.  Ye Gods.  There was quite a nice sweet shop which smelled of childhood.  And a few run of the mill pubby places that did not set the pulses racing.

The Bridge of Allan, just outside, was lovely though.  We found a very pleasant little bistro type place with a menu that although a tad generic was perfectly good. 

 It is easy to sniff at these sort of places but often they are a reliable bet for a decent supper if you don’t know much about your location.  I had an asparagus, goats’ cheese and sun blush tomato pizza which was perfectly pleasant and slipped down a treat with a glass of what-the-hell-it’s-the-end-of-the-holiday Prosecco.  Plus, the place was called Jam Jar and they served all sorts of stuff in, you know, jam jars.  Quirky, no?

Still in the Bridge of Allan, flicking through the visitors’ binder on our caravan site, we found mention of a local brewery  which we decided to visit on a whim;  D has become quite the real ale man recently and I have been trying to get into it – mainly because he shakes his head in a disapproving manner when I drink cider.  This was a real find – quirky interior, friendly staff, interesting beers made on site including an amazing Thai scented one (I kid you not and it was gorgeous – hints of lemongrass and chilli heat) and (this really excited me) Golden Wonder crisps!  I can’t remember the last time I saw Golden Wonder for sale – I assumed they had been crushed by the behemoth that is Walkers. 

Oh, and talking of Thai (elegant segue there….) back here in Leeds I’ve come across a very nice Thai place that I must share; Thai Aroy Dee on Vicar Lane which I visited on Sunday evening with a group of fellow foodies.  It’s small and unprepossessing looking – especially when compared to some of the other Thai restaurants in the Leeds city centre – but the food was excellent both in terms of quality and value (my two courses came in at just £11) and pretty authentic according to the party member who actually hailed from Thailand.  Definitely one to check out if you a) like Thai food and b) live in Leeds.

MPM: 24th June 2013

A fairly normal routine for me this week.  I'll be freezer diving for the main constituents of most of these meals, so not an awful lot of cooking is required but I do have the wherewithal to bake some apple and cinnamon muffins (recipe to follow if any good) so you never know...

The weekend is still a bit up in the air, but up until Friday I will mostly be chowing down on:

• Chicken wrapped in bacon with barbecue sauce and cheese (an 80s pub classic, from the Tesco Fresh and Easy range), mashed potatoes and steamed green veg
• A sticky sweet chilli Gressingham duck leg with egg rice and broccoli roasted with chilli and garlic
• Pollo pesto pasta bake
• Oven baked fish and chips (Tesco Finest - not a bad substitute for the real thing) with mushy peas.  And ketchup.  Lots of tomato ketchup. 

Oh, and Thursday I'm going out to celebrate passing my exam.

It doesn't look like the most diet friendly of weeks, but with the exception of the meal out all of these dinners have already been counted and are in my tracker.  Just goes to show that it is entirely possible to follow a healthy eating plan and not live on dust.

Head over to Mrs M's for more meal planning fun!

It was all going swimmingly...

Yesterday was rather like the curate's egg.  There was good news (you passed your exam!  You can go ahead and destroy those stupid index cards!) but also bad news.  I managed to lose both my keys and my purse - and when I say lose, I am becoming increasingly convinced that I actually unintentionally gifted them to someone.  It's not the end of the world - ok, I could have done without knowing how much locksmiths actually charge (ouch!) and all the cards got cancelled before any transactions went on them and there wasn't all that much cash in there, but still, it leaves an unpleasant taste in the mouth.  I am someone who goes through life probably being a bit careless at times because I tend to believe in the inherent goodness of most people.  I need to be more cautious because some people just aren't nice.  Which is sad.

Oh, and the purse itself was a Mulberry one which was a gift from D for my thirtieth birthday.  Which also makes me sad.  I have replaced it with a very pretty Accesorize one but still, I loved that purse.

Heigh ho.  I must admit, my last ditch attempts to reign in any Scottish themed damage went somewhat out of the window last night and (still in a spirit of confession) I was tempted to skip weigh in this morning as a result.  But I didn't, and the result was a 3lb gain which also isn't the end of the world.  A good week will sort that out.

And then, post weigh in and post post weigh in coffee, I went swimming which is news in itself.  I took out an expensive gym membership back when I moved here in September and then, like 67% of people with gym memberships proceeded to not use it.  I just thought about using it a lot.  While lying on the sofa.  Weeping.  And drinking wine.  Which meant that my fitness went woefully downhill.  Which made me even less inclined to use it.  But I have, just in the last few weeks, gradually started to reintroduce it into my life.  I used to love some of the classes that I went to at the gym - I think I would struggle with an hour of Body Combat at the moment, so I've started with swimming, and I'm going to build up.  It's probably too soon to notice a huge difference, but earlier this week I walked up a hill to get to the Wallace Monument and then walked up said monument and didn't die.  I take victory where I can get it.   

The Wallace Monument.  Big in Scotland.

View from the Wallace Monument, complete with Scottish flag.  And top of random man's head.

Raggle taggle gypsies - oh!

First, a huge thank you for all those crossed fingers, toes and eyes - I passed my latest exam.  So that is two modules down, umpteen to go before I can call myself fully versed in the ways of tax. 

Bonny Scotland - the countryside just outside Sterling

Now, let's talk about far nicer things shall we - like gypsy caravans?  I first saw these mentioned on one of my fellow Monday Meal planner's blogs and it was love at first hyperlink click.  Actually, I declared myself in love with The Chip in yesterday's post, didn't I...does this make me fickle?  Probably just overly effusive about everything.  Anyway, Bramble Bield.  I've tried camping once before and hated it (ha - so not effusive about everything) - I find the concept of sleeping on the floor with nothing but a thin sheet of canvas to protect you from the elements as the very antithesis of fun.  But sleeping in a pretty Romany caravan, with net curtains and fairy lights?  That, I can get on board with.  This, my friends, is glamping.

And our caravan, Rowan, was very beautiful...(I particularly like the ethereal ray of light slanting down through the first picture...)

 

But, let's be strictly truthful here, if I was an estate agent I would call Rowan bijoux.  I, a diminutive 5 foot 4 (and a half) actually just about fit, lengthways, on the bed.  D struggled and ended up having to adopt a sort of C shape which I don't think he found particularly comfortable.  Another of the caravans, a fetching green one called Holly, is said to be larger.

Minor length issues aside, Bramble Bield was a lovely place to pass a couple of days.  Although the site itself felt fairly isolated it was actually just a few miles outside Sterling.  And the fact that adjoining us was a fully fitted kitchen and working shower meant that it was somewhat more civilised than the aforementioned camping experience.  Oh, and talking of civilised, the owner brought a lovely Continental breakfast round for us each morning - cereal, fresh bread, pastries, fruit, yoghurt - far more than we could manage in one sitting.  One minor gripe?  No Yorkshire tea bags.  We're going to have to start carrying our own around with us.
 

Powis House Lodge  

Stirling

FK9 5PS
01786 460231

Glasgow and The Ubiquitous Chip

I knew very little about Glasgow prior to visiting it.  Just that it was "Not Edinburgh".  I still don't feel like I know very much about it; I suppose there is a limit to what you can learn in less than 24 hours.  I didn't immediately warm to it in the way that I have with some cities.  The town centre suffers a bit, as do most British cities, with the rash of same old-same old shop fronts and while some of the architecture was beautiful some of it was awful 1970s concrete monstrosities - occasionally right next door.  But the area around the university was absolutely gorgeous.  And Ashton Lane, the location of the restaurant at which we dined on Sunday evening, was equally lovely and made me think there could well be more to Glasgow if one took the time to scratch the surface.

I was already a bit in love with The Ubiquitous Chip before even looking at the menu because as far as I am concerned it is the best name EVER.  And then there was the fact that the food looked rather exciting and used lots of amazing Scottish produce.  And then we arrived and...well, the interior.  It's amazing.  Like dining in an airy conservatory all strewn about with foliage and fairy lights.  Kitsch as anything and utterly, utterly gorgeous.

 

 

We had a very minor falling out when it transpired that the main course that my beady little eye had been trained upon was not on the current menu.  It is, of course, a rookie mistake to set your heart on something that appears on the website - most decent restaurants change their menus far more frequently than their sites and quite right too.  And the food that I did end up eating was excellent anyway.

 

 

If I had to pick a favourite dish - and we're talking gun to the head situation - it would be the truly divine steak with brown shrimp butter - which pictured on the left above looks the least inspiring.  Let me tell you, this was some seriously good cow.  And the kitchen actually knew how to cook a steak blue - it was practically mooing when it came out.  Gorgeous stuff.  But there was plenty to love elsewhere - including a quinoa accompaniment which actually sold me on that rather worthy grain. 

 

In short, an excellent dinner but as to Glasgow itself, I remain undecided.  However, since The Chip and I are now officially dating, I may well have to go back and explore some more.

 

The Ubiquitous Chip

12 Ashton Lane
Glasgow,
Lanarkshire
G12 8SJ
0141 334 5007