I am preparing my beach body for this year’s hols. I am not entirely sure what this means, what it will look like, or how long it will take. But it better bloody get on with it because time is running out.
Nevertheless I have found some inspiration:
I just bought some still cider to marinate some ribs in. But then I decided to hell with that, the ribs can marinate themselves, I will marinate myself with the cider.
But then I noticed something. The back of the bottle detailed the recommended daily alcohol intake for a man. 3-4 units. Whats that then, 3 to 4 bottles of wine? A pint of vodka maybe? My eye was drawn to the right of this information; a small picture of a bottle with a 3 in it. The bottle of cider I was holding contained 3 units of alcohol.
So basically I could drink that bottle of cider, not even a pint, and according to government scientists, that’s would be it. No more. Risk of death or liver damage or some horrendous mental breakdown would follow if I cracked open another.
Well come off it. They don’t make bottles of cider on the presumption that you are going to buy four in a pack and then drink one. There is a disconnect between what we see and what we are told. Maybe its the Scientologists trying to mess with our minds. Or maybe its the people who run the country being as stupid as we hope they aren’t.
Anywho this caused a small flurry of debate. Secretly everyone is sloshed. The wife pointed out a friend who posted a picture of a gin and tonic cupcake. A new government survey claims that everyone who is over 40 drinks 3 bottles of wine a day and will be dead by the time they retire. So good, that means in 20 year time we won’t have to worry about an ageing population.
It won’t be a problem for me though. I incorporate alcohol into many recipes. Its helping me develop a super-enhanced tolerance which will actually prolong my lifespan.
Here’s a classic example. These Pulled Beef Burgers contain Guinness, red wine and Jack Daniels. But fear not, the alcohol boils off so its absolutely not a problem to stick four, i mean one, bottle of cider down your neck while you stuff them.
Too many times I go about creating some long-winded, complex creation with the intention of blogging all about it only to find I either a) cannot remember what the ingredients are, b) didn’t put the card in the camera, c) cannot even remember what it was that I created. So for this post I kept it simple – Salmon and Pesto Parcels. It takes about 10 minutes to put together, 20 minutes to cook and about 5 minutes to eat.
Finally! I found a pastry I can make. And of course its rough. Another extract from my new ‘Perfect’ book of recipes.
But I feel a need to digress. The summer holiday season is upon us. Children off school, which is good because the daily commute instantly becomes a joyous Utopia of empty roads. Weather improving, with the heady heights of 30 plus centigrade promised this week (into the 90’s for you fahrenheit stalwarts). Those are the good points.
The bad points. Where the hell to go on holiday? By my reckoning about 90% of the globe is now a no-go. Anywhere east of India is too far (unless you can take three weeks off). India? Its experiencing a heatwave so bad people are dying in the streets. The Mediterranean. Refugees are literally swimming up to the beaches. Its real chaos. Greece? Greece is in a seriously dire mess. Egypt, Tunisia? Not likely. With the expansion of the people’s paradise of ISIS most of North Africa and the Middle East is off the table.
Maybe a Stay-cation. Who on God’s green Earth thought that one up? I mean who in their right mind can sit at home watching daytime TV with a bottle of Pino Grigio and say to themselves ‘This is fun I should do this more often’?
Although that option would give me options. Drinking wine. Cooking….And its not like I would need to worry about getting beach-body ready. Always an issue. Actually whilst rambling on, a daytime TV ad just came up – the ‘tonetee’. The ad has a middle aged man walking down a path wearing a fat-hiding T-shirt, and two women turn to stare. I think the implication was he looked super-fit. But I think they were wondering why he was walking like he had just crapped himself.
Anyway back to the pastry. Rough Puff Pastry. I made it and then I made some quiches. They don’t look all that but tasted amaze-balls…
No this wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t want speckled scones. But speckled scones is what I got. Oh and by the way, if you hail from the States, these are biscuits.
I received a gift – an excellent book called ‘Perfect’, created by a Guardian writer who does an in depth analysis of a classic creation and then decides what the perfect version is. So I thought I’d give it a go. Perfect scones require lard and butter (not just butter) and also you shouldn’t roll the pastry, but rather flatten it by hand.
So, given I followed the instructions for perfect scones, how come my scones weren’t perfect? I will get to that later.