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Don’t call it a comeback! Heya goons, it’s been a really long time since I posted last and I see a lot of new faces or (re-regs whichever it is), so I’m not sure anybody remembers me anymore in these parts, what with most of you whippersnappers still in diapers when I was rockin’ my peers and puttin’ suckas in fear in these here ICSA threads. Life kinda took over for a while, work, travel, kids, and a temporary side trip to turning into an insufferable drunk; all these things prevented or replaced the posting I used to enjoy years back. At any rate the topic of this most recent competition is very dear to me so here I go again. I never met my great-grandma Gertie. But as it happens with those departed relatives who are intensely missed or generally misunderstood, their memory has a way of carrying on through oral tradition to the point that they are bordering on legendary. I was exposed to the stories about her at a very early age, so it’s hard to distinguish reality from those images that were burned into my young and impressionable mind and which by now are as tangible as they are improbable. Née Martha, she rejected her name because she felt it just “wasn’t sexy enough”; proceeding to change it to Gertrude on her 18th. This one tidbit, just like most of the stories about her, comes second hand from my mother and grandfather, the latter embattled with my GGM in the traditionally antagonistic mother-in-law/son-in-law relationship. My mother on the other hand loved her, and she still proudly displays the Coronation tea set she was given as a gift by her as a child on special occasions. My granddad claims he first laid eyes on her as the battleship he was stationed on was pulled into the Blackpool shipyard, literally heaved in by her sheer brute force and a thick rope, which she wore as a belt when not in use tugging warships. Now, I know this isn’t actually possible, but because I had so many years to picture this in my head it’s as real to me as any other childhood memory. My grandfather later took it upon himself to rescue my grandmother from this behemoth of a sea hag (his words exactly) therefore earning himself a permanent place in Gertie’s life in the role of tormented. After the war (the great one for you young guns) she did a stint as a carnie on the promenade –as the bearded lady- if my gramps is to be trusted. I have never seen any pictures of her, therefore I imagine her just like this: a combination of the massive grandma from “The Tin Drum” and Beowulf’s mother, with a little Popeye thrown in for good measure. It’s in the kitchen (or around food in general) however, where her memory still lives the strongest. It’s in her honor that my mother still spits back at a pan of oil that spatters and burns her. It was her ability to make allegedly peek-proof Yorkshire puddings by eyeball which my mother recounts every time she sees me weigh my ingredients. There was the time when, sitting and enjoying a movie and a bag of chips (crisps) in a theater, she jumped up screaming “I ate the blue one!!!” having swallowed the salt packet they used to include with potato chips back then. We still get a sack of oranges on Christmas, and are suitably reminded she would think we would be so lucky, followed by “…you know your great grandma never had a peach until her thirties? And it was canned.” Yes mom, we heard it before. And then there were the carrots. Countless carrot stories. My granddad was either allergic to -or more likely adverse to the flavor of- carrots. And Gertie would waste no opportunity to leverage that, either by feigning ignorance of the fact year in and year out or deliberately hiding the carrots in his food (puréed in mashed potatoes, whittled down and hidden among cocktail wieners...) whether this started in good humor or not, by the time I knew my granddad, he was truly traumatized. Don’t get me wrong, he was no angel to her, still the whole carrot thing really broke him in the end. My great-grandma was not a literate woman, therefore she left no cookbooks for me to share with you. Luckily she was English which means all their food has basically 3 ingredients: 1) Some kind of meat 2) Some kind of starch 3) Something moist Bonus points if the cut of meat is “alternative”, Double bonus if the starch is all purpose flour. Triple if it all looks uniformly brown when done. Then go ahead and name it something that sounds rude in any other language, especially to Americans. Truth is I’ve craved this sort of food all my life. Imagine this: growing up a stone’s throw away from Parma surrounded by arguably the greatest food in the world, literally next door to a Grana Padano factory and all I wanted as a kid were pork pies and mincemeat, bubble and squeak and chicken tikka masala. Overall, British cuisine gets a bum rap. Even Gordon Ramsey is essentially a Francophile traitor, and yet for me it formed the basis for a childhood so different from the one of my friends. While everyone was reading Tex and Topolino I used to chuckle at the Beano and Dandy and later 2000 AD (a guilty pleasure to this day). Everyone playing D&D? No thanks, I preferred GW’s Warhammer RPG. A Commodore 64 you say? Make mine a ZX Spectrum. Being contrary is the essence of being British. In hindsight that too I learned from my great-granny. Those of you who remember my prior ICSA exploits (or have access to archives) will recall my bias towards fusion cuisine and fondness for modernizing old-fashioned recipes. This time I tried to stay as traditional as I could. As a bonus I tried to stick to dishes in the preparation of which I could involve my beautiful daughters (for extra credit multi-generational continuity) and would appeal to their budding palates. Those of you with (or who are) kids will be thanking me. So, with no further ado, I present to you a menu that would make our Gertie proud, or at minimum, just a little less ornery. Toad in a Hole with onion gravy This classic fare is rumored to take its name from the way the sausages look as they poke out of the batter. More likely it contained actual toads at some point in history. 4 eggs at room temp 1 cup cake or all purpose flour 1 cup milk (at room temp.) A pinch of salt 3-4 pork sausages Onion Gravy 1 large onion finely diced 2 cups beef stock 2 Tbs butter 1 tsp pepper 1Tbs flour 1 dash Worcestershire sauce Salt to taste  Here are my two lovely assistants, Jem 5, on the left and Eva 8, on the right. Jimbo (I call the little one that ‘cause I wanted a boy) is sporting a custom ISCA (Iron Something Chef Awful) apron curtesy of Croatoan, which I won after placing first in a tour-de-force of southern cooking. Cro, if you are still around give me a holler bro. I miss you.  Start by whisking the eggs with the salt and flour. In the meantime half cook the sausages in a pan.  Slowly add the milk and beat to a thin batter. While your sous-chefs are doing this place a 9” oven dish into a 425° F oven after drizzling about 2 Tbs of the sausage drippings into it.  After letting the batter rest for 20-30 minutes pour into the pre-heated dish with the sausages. Bake for 30 minutes. No peeking!  While the toads are baking start your onion gravy. Soften the onion in a saucepan with the butter.  When the onions are softened and translucent, add the flour and cook the starchy flavor out of the roux for a few minutes.  Add the broth and Worcestershire and continue cooking until thickened. Salt and pepper to taste.  Take the TIAH out of the oven when golden and puffed. Serve with gravy. Look at this loving thing!  Jimbo loves it! Steak, Mushroom and Ale Pie This is my rendition of a Fray Bentos canned pie. If you have never had Fray Bentos, you haven’t lived. 1 Lb stew meat, cut in ½” cubes 2 cups quartered mushrooms 1 onion diced 1 cup reserved onion gravy ½ cup beef broth 2 Tbs suet or oil 1 Tbs Dijon mustard 2 bay leaves 1 tsp pepper A dash of Worcestershire sauce ½ pint of beer like Newcastle (I used Guinness as a homage to the Irish Sea which bathes Blakpool) Puff pastry sheets 1 egg, beaten.  Yes, an 8 inch chef knife is perfectly safe…  Brown yer meat in the suet, then add the onions and cook until soft. Stir in the mushrooms. You might notice there are no carrots in this version. OR ARE THERE?!?  Pour the broth and ale into the pot. Add the bay leaves and pepper. Stew for 1 hour on low.  When the meat starts getting tender, stir in the gravy and Dijon to thicken. Cook on low for another 20 minutes.  Remove the bay leaves and partition the stew between three or four (depending on how much meat you like), 5 inch ramekins (or a 9” large round ovenproof dish). The stew is also good at this point served with boiled potatoes or rice.  Seal the dishes with puff pastry and give a quick egg wash.  Make sure the pies are distinguishable from paltry poultry pot pies by including relevant iconography. God Save the Queen.  Bake in a 400° F oven, until golden brown and bubbling from the edges.  I enjoy mine with creamy horseradish sauce. Branston pickle would also be good. Spotted Dick Do I really need to say anything here? It fits the trifecta of British cuisine rules by including beef fat. And I don’t mean butter. 1 ½ cups flour 1/3 cup sugar 1 Tbs baking powder 1 tsp salt 1 cup cold finely chopped, refined suet 7-8 Tbs milk ½ cup raisins 1 tsp lemon or orange zest, or a mixture of the two  Start by rendering suet. Heat the fat over low heat until it’s melted and the membranes are starting to crisp. Strain and cool in the fridge.  Pulse the dry ingredients and suet in a food processor until it resembles wet sand (of Blackpool.)  Moisten with the milk and stir until you have a sticky dough. Incorporate the raisins and zest (I used Penzey’s orange peel, this stuff is awesome).  Fill a fluted pudding dish and press the dough down compacting it.  Fashion a disk out of parchment paper and seal the top of the pudding.  Wrap the dick in foil, place it in a pan with an inch of water spacing the pudding from the bottom using a metal cookie cutter. Steam for 1 ½ hours.  Now, you could actually make custard from scratch, but that wouldn’t be very British. So go ahead and heat up a can of this incredible stuff.  Slide the spotted dick out of the cooking dish and serve warm with Devon custard. Amazing! So goons, I hope you enjoyed my offerings and the wall of text tribute to my great-granny. So you know what to do, if you love the Queen and the Empire vote for me! All kidding aside I had a real blast and I am really thrilled to be doing this again. The kiddos loved it too. ‘Til next time -pip pip, cheerio- this is mentos signing off. 
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Nov 10, 2014 20:34
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Welcome back, mentos! What an awesome ICSA. The food looks delicious, traditionally British, and you have a lovely family. EDIT: bartolimu told me I was a bad person The Midniter fucked around with this message at 17:25 on Nov 17, 2014 |
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Nov 10, 2014 21:41
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I love this. It's like a live action version of going through my 1000 recipes book. This stuff is actually good food which I love so please continue making it, for the good of the Empire.
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Nov 10, 2014 21:46
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Dude, I thought you were dead. Awesome entry!
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Nov 11, 2014 02:36
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The Midniter posted:Welcome back, mentos! What an awesome comeback ICSA. The food looks delicious, traditionally British, and you have a lovely family.  But yes, welcome back mentos. You've been missed. Your TIAH looks amazing - my attempts at Yorkshire pudding or other things that get bubbly and brown don't turn out nearly that well. Nice job.
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Nov 16, 2014 22:14
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bartolimu posted:He said not to call it a comeback. Whoops! Totally missed that part. Edited to reflect.
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Nov 17, 2014 17:25
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On balance, I think I want to try the toad more than I want to try the pie, but it's a drat close-run thing. Fantastic entry!
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Nov 17, 2014 19:59
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Just upset my spotted dick isn't getting any love...
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Nov 17, 2014 20:41
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| # ? May 2, 2024 10:19 |
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mentos posted:Just upset my spotted dick isn't getting any love... I'm sorry to hear that, but I think E/N is for marital issues man. Good luck.
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Nov 17, 2014 23:16
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