In Australia, (and elsewhere, I’m sure) it’s a nice tradition that people bring a bottle to a gathering but my number one rule is, the minute you walk in the door, the wine no longer belongs to you. 1. It seems some people worry that the lovely bottle of wine they’ve selected for a friend’s dinner will be whisked away and they’ll be served an inferior wine? What to do… Forget it. It’s not the last supper. Would anyone really think friends are whisking it away to serve on another occasion? Who on earth are they keeping it for? This is a myth. Perhaps the friends don’t know the wine. Perhaps they really like their own selection. Feel compassion and next time, bring a simpler bottle. If they are secreting it away, they are to be pitied. It’s only wine, (but surely no-one knows anybody like this). 2. Have you gone to dinner and worried that your wine won’t be served so you’ve turned up with it opened, to force your host’s hand? Golly, I hope not. Never do this. It shows lack of trust and greed. You’re bigger than this. Just hand the bottle over. It’s not the last bottle of wine you’ll drink. 3. Have you refused to drink the wine you’ve been poured and demanded to drink yours? Golly, I hope not. Eating together is about sharing the experience, the food and the wine. Just drink it. Put up with it. It’s not the last supper. If it’s truly ghastly, drink less (which is not going to do any of us any harm). Nice idea for the hosts… You’ve probably got a few bottles planned for the night and guests will also bring some. This could be more than you need. Do not give the wine back, (rude and vulgar). Write the givers’ name on the label, along with the date. Later, ask these friends over and say, “Come to eat with us. I'd like to drink that bottle of wine you brought.”
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This fish service (1899) is sitting in a Munich museum. A friend sent the photograph to tease and tempt me. It was designed by Hermann Gradl and made by the German firm of Königlich-Bayerische Porzellan-Manufaktur (1869-1934) in Nymphenburg. It is the most beautiful service I know of (after the Danish Flora Danica service). There is also a set in Canberra and one in Chicago, as far as I know, so there are a few around. I wonder if I looked on eBay... .After a day of feeding the hens, watering the garden, hanging out washing etc. plus a late visit to the patient (broken femur – good prognosis), I ignore my own advice to wind down over a chopping board. Even that is too tiring and I have the bright idea of finding a KFC. That is the first challenge because a KFC is not on my normal patch. I finally find the red neon and drive in. As a complete novice, I am overwhelmed, first by the intercom ordering system and then by the embarrassment of riches on the illuminated menu. They remain patient. I order a box (not sure what it's called) and add a coleslaw (for dietary balance) and mashed potato with gravy. I'm asked to move on to the next “window” to collect my order. I don't realise a can of Pepsi Max is included. Wow! Bonus! Another first! Then to the next window to pay. Very proud of myself for having navigated this without leaving the car. Once home, I see the meal box is a charming construction but I’m at a loss how to open it so I hack at it with a paring knife. I set up my TV dinner in the sitting room on a tray in front of QI with Stephen Fry. I team this with an innocent but cheeky little French Rosé, and arrange some food on a nice plate. (Faïencerie Onnaing, "Narcisse" N.E. France, 72 pieces "petit bourgeois" service for 12, c. 1898). The presentation is neat. The coleslaw is over-chopped and vey sweet. So-called "popcorn chicken", in a little tub, are cutely delicious, crumbed knobs of meat. A “slider” of chicken fillet in a tender, folded bun is nice with shredded lettuce and sweet commercial mayonnaise. Pieces of chicken (mainly wing) has a nicely crisp and crunchy coating contrasting with a juicy, tender interior. The mashed potato is watery and its gravy lacks “umami” (definitely not the Joël Robuchon recipe). I contribute a Mrs Ball’s peach chutney. My bad photograph perhaps says a lot about my evening. Nonetheless it hits the spot while Roger is in Ward 109, having his delicious hospital dinner (not), complete with jelly trifle. Is it possible to cook outside one’s culture? The eating is easy. We love the exotic food of others – new flavours and combinations, new associations of history and memory. For example, I love cooking the food of India. I love to recognise the Persian influence in northern Indian cuisine, I love to cross-over ingredients, I love to prepare (what I call) Indian food. And of course it is my right to do so but I do wonder whether Amrik say, of the Jasmin restaurant here in Adelaide, would recognise this food as his cultural heritage! (No need to wonder what he would say, of course, as Amrik is the epitome of grace and politeness.) My mother is French from Algeria and couscous was a ritual celebration and treat. It took her a day to make the "grain" before it could be bought in packets at the supermarket (with “value added” flavourings, if one chose). It is soooo delicious. I do have a wee chuckle when I see what can be done badly with couscous – soggy and tasteless. (A post on preparing couscous coming up.) So I’ve been playing with Japanese dishes. The Chawan-mushi wins me everytime. At home, it can use up some of the eggs from our three hens. For the dashi (stock made of bonito flakes & wakame seaweed) see Google or substitute chicken or vegetable stock. Instant dashi, like instant coffee crystals, is available, but I leave this up to you. Chawan-mushi (for 4 people) 250 ml dashi, 3 eggs 1 tsp mirin, 1 tsp soy sauce 2 shiitake mushrooms, 8 medium, peeled green prawns 1 spring onion Beat all ingredients together without causing too much foam. Strain it through a fine sieve to ensure silkiness. Slice the mushrooms, discarding the stem. Halve the prawns. Slice spring onion diagonally. Divide prawns & mushrooms between 4 cups that will fit your steamer situation. Pour over the egg mixture and arrange a few spring onion slices on top. Steam gently, covered, for about 15 minutes. When firm but still tender, remove from the steamer, rest for a couple of minutes then serve hot (with a teaspoon). Steaming is a gentle heat so I safely cook the Chawan-mushi in (c.1910) Wedgwood teacups. |
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