Michelin star recipe == Michelin star food ?

Of course not, that ought to be self-evident, but why not ?

I think there are 3 reasons

• Ethos
• Training
• Equipment

Equipment is the easiest to tackle, I'm not talking about the kind of molecular gastronomy stuff like thermo-blends & sous-vide units. Most of us home cooks have to put up with ovens that are temperamental or have odd hot/cold spots, our fridges & freezers have to keep the food we need on a day to day basis. Its no wonder when we put them to the precise requirements of haute cuisine they are found wanting. Unless you plan to be a chef or have mild OCD then your knives & pans are probably not quite up to it either.

Training, I can make a fine pastry. To make the kind of pastry that haute cuisine requires with equal amounts of fat & flour takes me hours. Rolling & wrapping meat/fish/veggies into clingfilm logs goes wrong more often than it goes right and well its going to be quite some time before I get the hang of quenelles. I've got a job and a social life that isn't all cooking & cocktails, so I don't have the time to practice, which brings me to ethos.

Ethos. I'm a cook, I want most of my food out on the plate & eaten. I'm not always prepared to cut & chuck good food in order to make a better looking dish. I'm cooking for 2-6 people not a full service 2-3 times a day. I'm cooking for fun (or hunger) not for a living. I'm coming from a completely different place, a different starting point & pretty much ending in a different place.

Ethos is the big difference, I can't really make the investment required to turn out one plate of star grade food. I don't have the time to practice that one dish over & over till it's perfect. And frankly I'm not great at cleaning ovens, fridges & so on, sure its all hygienic but its not enough to coax the constant & consistent performance from my kit.

One day I might by luck & skill combined turn out that plate, but I'm not counting on it. It's not going to stop me buying serious cookery books & attempting the recipes though. I'll just try to be a little less harsh on myself when it doesn't come out exactly as it might at a restaurant.

Violet cream showdown

On the left (in the case) is the Fortnum & Mason Violet cream on the right Hotel chocolat's offering.

Hotel Chocolat

This is a thin square of violet cream, liberally coated in 72% cocoa solid dark chocolate. The chocolate here is the main event, the violet cream being unfortunately overshadowed by it (the rose creams slightly less so). The fondant has a fairly stiff texture and is pretty much as the box says "scented" with violets. On the whole whilst I happy to eat these I'd rather have something with a bit more punch in the violet.

Fortnum & Mason

This is a more traditional type of cream a good solid block of cream enrobed in dark chocolate (60% cocoa solid this time). For me the balance is better, the chocolate provides the right amount of bitterness to foil the violet cream, which this time has a strong floral flavour. Its more harmonious than the hotel chocolat square with a long tail of rich chocolate and violet after.

Out of these two its the Fortnum & Mason for me, but I'm going to have to try it against the Charbonnel et Walker violet creams, which hold first place in my memory.

Breakfast of champions

Yes along with Kurt Vonnegut I think the Martini is an under rated breakfast. This is the king of breakfast Martinis, the marmalade.

Marmalade or Breakfast Martini

 This is my recipe

1 barspoon of good maramalade

1 dash orange bitters

1 good measure gin.

Harry Craddock goes with

1 barspoon maramalade

1 good measure gin

1/2 a small measure lemon juice

Normally I don't drink for breakfast, but there is a bit of a good reason today. Whilst in Vegas we took the adage "what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" to heart and attempted to order this cocktail at several hotel bars. Most barstaff looked at us as if we'd grown horns or something. One however said "what goes in that then", I explained that we were after a very dry Martini with  a spoon full of marmalade "you mean like orange jelly ?" (actually no, I mean marmalade, which is a jam & a particular one at that) "yes, the stuff you put on toast" 

"in a drink ?"

"yes, its very good"

"jelly ! in a drink !  If I had any I'd make you some "

I should have dashed over to the breakfast bar and liberated a couple of those plastic boxes of marmalade, but it didn't occur to me.

So there you go a breakfast cocktail, its really worth drinking if you get the chance.

MixMo Absinthe

It's mixology Monday time again and our hostess thinking of drinking has picked the bad boy of the drinks cabinet :- Absinthe. To be truthful, I use absinthe frequently, I just don't use a lot, it's place is in drops, dashes & rinses. I just wasn't that inspired, but hang on, this is the green fairy, Van gogh, Lautrec, and Paris. The more I thought about it the more I started leaning towards doing something a little bit different, sure I could mix up something playing to the strength of Absinthe, maybe a Ultra-dry Martini I like to call "Death right now" in punnage to Hemingway, or to play with that wonder drink the "Corpse reviver #2" , but different was where I wanted to go. Here then is a bit of a story and a cocktail to go with it.

It was February the 26th 2008, I'd been reading "Last of the mohicans", but it was time to sleep, I turned out the light. I was rather rudely awoken by a roaring noise & the bed shaking. I rolled out of bed onto the floor & back under the bed, it was an EARTHQUAKE ! About here I need to point out I live in the UK in the Midlands, earthquakes aren't that common, but I'd just been woken up with a depth charge of adrenaline, so rolling under the bed seemed reasonable. A couple of seconds (or more subjectively a lot of seconds) later and calm had been restored. For those who've never experienced an earthquake they are pretty loud and of course anything jigglable has been set making a noise too. I flipped the computer open & attempted to log on to the BGS to find out more, I also fired up a chat window to talk to some friends who would be awake in a different time-zone.

Then I thought maybe a nightcap would help settle everything down.

Quite what possessed me to open the savoy cocktail book I'll never no, but the redoubtable Harry Craddock had just the thing, an earthquake cocktail. Its not a drink for the faint hearted, in fact it's pretty ferocious.
1/3rd Gin
1/3rd Whisk(e)y
1/3rd Absinthe

Apparently it'll make you forget you are drinking through an actual earthquake, a claim I can well believe. It's shaken hard with ice. Unsurprisingly the main flavour is aniseed, the Whisky & Gin having been bullied out of the way. They do however calm the bitterness down (I've tried it made with pastis & it's almost sickly sweet) and take away the burn of the alcohol. Refortified I went to see what the BGS were saying about matters geological. Not a lot, most of the UK was hitting the site, so I checked a few other places and found that it was magnitude 4-5 tempting me to play "Fünf auf der nach oben offenen Richterskala" by Einstürzende Neubauten, but my neighbours may have managed to get back to sleep and it is somewhat raucous. After 45 minutes or so the drink & friendly banter had done their work and I was beginning to feel sleepy once more.

The earthquake turned out to be a mild 4.7, did no visible damage to my home, but was the topic of conversation for a good week. Before finding out that MixMo was absinthe I'd pretty much ignored the Earthquake cocktail, and making one to photograph and get tasting notes for reminded me why. Its a very strong drink, with one overwhelming taste aniseed, although it is quite well balanced, taking away some of the bitterness and burn. If you like the taste of absinthe & are looking for something different to the usual give it a go.

If you are caught in an earthquake of the smaller kind with little danger to life & limb get one mixed up and embellish the story, telling how you let the quake shake the drink for you and how you downed 2 or 3 straight to calm your nerves.

Pancakes

Yesterday was shrove Tuesday or as it's better known in these parts pancake day (not Mardi Gras, we don't do that kind of thing). So time to get pancaking.

I'm not talking about US style buttermilk pancakes, nor am I talking about crêpes, the closest none English equivalent is the Dutch pancake, except they cook the filling into the batter.

This is one in the frying pan. To make them you need a thinnish batter, I base mine on 2 eggs & 500ml of whole milk with enough flour (self raising) to make a batter that drips. Some people add a little melted butter, some use less egg and some water instead of all milk, that is as far as I'm concerned a bit on the stingy side. We were taught in school that the pancake (and its traditional sugar & lemon "filling") was made to use up ingredients that were forbidden during lent, so there is no need to hold on to spare eggs, milk, cream or butter. The batter should be allowed to stand, 30 minutes is a minimum, at home pancake batter was made in the morning & pancakes eaten in the evening. The batter goes into a hot frying pan, here we meet the first cooking ritual. A bare amount of fat goes into the pan over a high heat and it's then carefully watched for the blue haze. Once this elusive wisp of smoke is seen in goes some batter. Enough to cover the bottom of the pan to a depth of about 5mm (any more is a bit too thick, much less is stingy). Once the top of the pancake is set you get to turn the pancake over.

Tosser or Flipper ?

 As you can see I'm a tosser (it took several attempts to get this shot, so I'd taken to pulling faces to amuse myself).
Which is the traditional way to turn a pancake over. There is a whole host of peripheral stuff associated with the pancake toss. Its a staple of slapstick (they stick to the ceiling and fall down at the most hilarious moment) and several folk rituals, usually races. Science tells us that the best toss comes when the pancake has slithered to the far side of the pan, experience tells us that a crisp wrist action is better than power from the fore-arm. If this sounds like hassle & a potential waste of good food, flipping is the answer, just slide a spatula or fish slice under the pancake and turn it over in the pan, we won't think any less of you, but you'll be missing out.

After a couple of minutes the underside should be done, slide the pancake out onto a warm plate, sprinkle with sugar and squeeze lemon juice over, roll up slice & eat (The chef usually gets to eat whole as they are a pancake production line). If you can get everyone in the kitchen & dole out hot pancakes to them so much the better, there is no really satisfactory way to keep them warm. The "filling" is traditionally lemon & sugar as described, some people go with jam, others with syrup (either golden or maple) but generally on pancake day the filling is sweet.

Here is another interesting take on the English pancake day experience

Manchester Tart

Those of you of a certain age from the Northern UK will recognize this as one of the very best school dinner puddings (Usually coming second only to varieties of chocolate cake). The rest of you are in for a treat.

I had some pastry left over from an apple pie and was trying to decide what to use it up with, after toying with the idea of jam or Bakewell tart, I remembered this. It's simply a tart case, covered with a layer of jam (raspberry or strawberry, preferably seedless), which has custard poured over it and then toasted coconut drizzled on top.

Get yourself a shortcrust pastry tart case, either making your own or buying a premade one. If you are making your own it'll need blind baking & then cooling. Spread a healthy (I mean thick) layer of jam over the base. Then get to making custard. For the correct taste custard powder is a must (Custard powder is also an enormous mount of fun, in amongst its many properties are the fact it's pyrophoric and it can be used to create a non Newtonian fluid) for a standard (20cm) tart you need about 500ml (Follow the directions on the tin/packet). You can of course make custard from scratch, but I was going for nostalgia. I snuck some sliced banana ontop of the jam & under the custard. You want the custard to be cool not set BTW.

The whole lot goes in the fridge overnight, before you are ready to serve toast a good handful of dessicated coconut, so its a nice mid-brown colour (beware coconut is a tricky substance an will go from white to burnt in the blink of an eye). Then sprinkle it evenly over the custard. 

Allow the combination to come to room temperature, slice up & serve

The Flute full of dark liquid in the back is a Nelson's Blood cocktail. To make put a good measure of port in a champagne flute & top off with champagne (you are after a 1:4 ratio port to champagne).

It goes surprisingly well with what is quite a humble dessert as the fruit & honey notes come to the front & the tannins are masked.

You don't see Manchester tart much these days, Its been *ahem* years since I last saw on, let alone had a slice, but it is as good as my fond memory recalls. Give it a go

A dry Gibson

I'm not a fan of olives, so I like my Martinis with a twist, I also Like them dry,very dry, so dry I'l need a drink afterwards. I've experimented with rinsing, with drier vermouths (Noilly Prat gets a lot of use, being dry & easy to obtain),misters, and homoeopathic techniques. I'm now a bit more sensible, but I still want my Martini to be dry (and vodka free).

Early on in my cocktail experience I found the Gibson, in which the olives are swapped out in favour of tiny pickled silverskin onions. It was some kind of nirvana and its a handy thing to order if you are unsure of the ability of the bar-staff.

Those of you who poke about in EXIF info will find out that this picture was taken on Xmas day 2008. I'd gone to Las Vegas for xmas & was determined to enjoy a few cocktails. Unfortunately I met with a lot of disappointments. We went to Wynn and got ourselves a grand table on the terrace. Unfortunately my Gibson was less than grand, merely OK (I make better at home).

Waiting around in the Hotel (the Luxor) I wandered up to the main bar (liquidity) and sat down to order a coke. The bartenders were mainly chatting & milling about and one asked me why I was drinking coke. Normally I'd give a bit of a snappy answer, what I drink is my choice. This time though I had a bit of time & was pretty relaxed so I started to discuss my cocktail experiences. The bar guy told me "I make seriously good Martinis",
"yeah you & every other bartender in this town",
"OK here's what we'll do, I'll make you, your Martini of choice. You don't like it you don't pay, you do like it you tell everyone"
"fair enough, one terribly dry gin Gibson please"

He went away rattling through the bottles of gin, vermouth, and collected up his tools. A mixing glass full of Ice went on the bar in front of me, and the Martini was stirred up there & then. Once it was done the bar (a couple more staff & a friend had joined in my now) fell quiet, punctuated of course by the quarter rattle of a large casino. I took a sip.

"so how much is a dry Gibson then ?"
"$10"
I put $20 down and spent a seriously happy 20mins chatting with the staff & my friends (the rest of the party turned up) drinking a Serious Martini.

Like the sound of it ? Gibson my way.

20 parts GOOD London gin (Tanqueray, Bombay sapphire, or the like)
1   part Dry vermouth
3 small silver cocktail onions
Lots of ice

Shovel enough ice into a Martini glass to give it a heaped fill, pour in water to help chill, Fill you mixing glass with ice, pour in a splash of Vermouth, stir it all round and drain the vermouth, put in your measure of Vermouth, and then add the gin, stir for 20-30s dump the ice out of the glass & quickly dry up any remaining water. Pour Martini into glass. On a cocktail stick skewer your 3 onions(*) stir the drink with them a couple of times & then serve.

(*)3 is the ideal number, I only have empirical evidence for this, so if you are after a good Gibson stick with3, if you are experimenting, good luck and take care.

Steak & french

Sorry for the famine/feast nature of this blog this month, but there you go. The last post reminded me of this incident in france.

We'd picked up a cheap coach trip to Paris for new year, most of our fellow travellers were content to stay with the coach & guide, minimizing their contact with actual parisians, not me. I found myself at a small bistro on the left bank, there seemed to be a few locals enjoying the food, so I decided to go in.  I suppose here I ought to point out that I was getting by with 5 years of school french (a scraped 'C' at GCE) which was doing fine. I got a nice table for us & was happily decoding the menu when a member of staff appeared, 1 carafe of white vin de table later & we'd decided on our meals, I was voted in as order giver (something to do with the way I'd handled the wine question apparently).

It was all going well, till it came to my steak, I decoded the question & froze the only thing I could remember was "moyen" or medium, there was no way I was going to submit to the indignity of medium steak. The waiter patiently repeated the question for me as my brain raced for anything that would help.
It lit on bleu, that would do. (important aside here the French natrually cook steak rarer than the English, when they say rare, they mean it).

"Bleu monsiuer ?" Came the reply along with a quizically cocked eyebrow. "oui, bleu si vous plait" (I'm nothing if not polite) and away he scurried to the kitchen.

A pleasant few minutes with the vin blanc for company and a rehash of the mornings adventures including a little smugness about taking the stairs on the Eiffel tower (its cheap & there is hardly any queue, south pier). The food started to come out, I should have been alerted by the fact my steak wasn't in the first batch, but hey vin blanc.

I was alerted when it wasn't in the 2nd batch and I was marshalling my forces for an attempt to find out what was going on, but I became aware of some form of commotion over by the kitchen and the complete absence of front of house staff. The kitchen door opened, their was "our waiter" and more importantly "my" food. I somehow missed the complete collection of staff surrounding my steak and spilling out of the kitchen. (I was focussed on my steak).

The plate was put in front of me with some ceremony and the waiter retreated, but no far enough to go & do some more waiting, no. He (and every other member of staff) wanted to see what happened when I started into the steak. To put a quick end to this slightly uncomfortable pause I went straight to the meat (ignoring the potatoes, salad, and veggies). It was lovely, even if a bad vet coulld have got it moving again. No sooner than the first mouthfull had gone down & the waiter was back, "the steak was it suitable ?", "oh yes, it was very good". The kitchen door slammeed shut, barely disguising the chuckles & at least one curse. I suspect somebody had lost a sum of money on my steak consumption.

(I enjoyed that trip, eating and drinking my fill & frightening the coach party with my tales of eating snail and talking to french people)

Ho's bakery

I think I was about 15 the first time I went to Ho's. It hit that magic spot between exotic & familiar. The exotic was pretty much supplied by the Chinese arch that's such a feature of Manchester's china town, the familiar by it being a bakery. A bakery of the kind that has pretty much gone now, replaced by Greggs & the like. The food wasn't too threatening either, OK some of the dumplings looked pretty weird & I really wasn't sure about the amount of seasame seeds around. Then I saw a sight to gladen any heart "roast pork buns" a phrase that has no negatives at all. Next to them nestled egg tarts, they looked a lot like egg custards (sure there didn't appear to be any nutmeg and they were in puff pastry cases but hey).

So I dipped my toe into another world & ordered. The pork bun was a revelation. Firstly where was the pork ? Sealed inside the bun, of course it was red char-sui rather than slices of roast pork, and the bun was much sweeter than expected. It was worlds away from stuffing & apple sauce, yet it wasn't, it was a lovely roast pork bun. That dispatched it was time for the egg tart, the puff pastry  was well just not what I was used to, the custard though was rich,sweet, and warm. Lovely.


Ever since if I've had chance I've popped into Ho's and had a pork bun & egg tart. Guess what I had for lunch :-)



-- Posted from my iPhone

Oysters

 Sometimes seen as the ultimate luxury food (along with caviar & truffles). It's practically the job of a sybarite to like them. Disappointingly I found I couldn't choke a single one down. Until I went to Vegas, where a dozen were order without a moments hesitation by a dear friend. With some trepidation I awaited their arrival.

 What was this, they were delicious, a splash of lemon juice, or a drop (5 in reality) of Tobasco and wow, so this is what the fuss is about, but why are these so different from the ones before ?

 Experiment & reading threw up something unsuspected, Oysters in the us are usually rinsed, where as here in the uk they are just shucked (opened) and swallowed. The problem was the highly saline liquor, which was really causing all the vileness. With simply pouring the liquor away I could scoff oysters to my hearts content.

 Having made that simple discovery, I've been eating oysters at the slightest excuse since.

Free Food

   In my youth summer and autumn usually meant free food on offer. It started at the end of June early July with Pick Your Own (PYO) whilst somebody had to pay for the full baskets, the rule as a child was generally 1 for me, 1 for the basket. This haul would then be turned into fresh strawberry cake & pots of jam.

  Next up came blackberries, this frequently meant a bike ride down the canal or out into Cheshire or some other spot where particularly overgrown bramble tangles were known to be. On arrival there would be a small picnic before the devastation commenced (I used to wonder how these patches survived). Again it was a case of 1 for me, 1 for the bag. Meeting other blackberryers was fairly common, and had its own etiquette. What usually followed was apple & blackberry pie and Bramble jam.

  About the same time it was apples, these we didn't have to forage far for, as we had a couple of trees & the old lady nextdoor had a small orchard (about 10 trees).

  Then it was time for sweet chestnuts, getting these was a real joy, you had to wear gloves, due to the spines, and it always involved launching bits of stick up into the tree to dislodge more.

  On Sunday evening, the weather was glorious, so I blew off my chores and went to the forest. There was a group of people by the entrance having a good go at a large sweet chestnut. About 50m from the carpark we were all alone as usual. Having come out on pretty much a whim, we had 1 bag and no gloves. Still it was fun.

Its not the greatest haul, but for 15 minutes work, wasn't too bad, especially as I have a large plate more ripening on the window sill. Since I now have an open fire

It was time to roast, Normally I do chestnuts in the oven, gas 5-6 for half an hour, job done. I'd forgotten to make allowance for the rather ferocious heat of the fire, so was a little shocked when the first one popped after about 5 minutes. Jolly tasty they were too. I suspect that Saturday might include a more organized raid on the sweet chestnuts of Sherwood forest

Street food

Most chefs when abroad wax lyrical about street-food, but not here at home, why ?
Is it because we are too rich & our street food is just junk, a bunch of calories smothered in cheap sauce with onions. Or is it the regulation that food vendors have to deal with ?

It's goose fair time here in Nottingham, the origins of which are all about food, Christmas geese and cheese mainly, of course this century has seen it change to mainly rides and attractions, with the usual burger vans, chips and candy floss. However it still retains some interesting food foibles.

First off is the tradition of coconuts & pomegranates. My guess is that this is just the generation before mine's main exposure to such exotic fruits. There also seems to be a much wider selection of dishes than normally found at such events, including Chinese,Indian,Carribean(*),German and some new sensation (this year it seemed to be a spiral crisp made from half a potato). However there are a couple of things that seem to be unique to the Goose fair.

First off is mushy peas, at least one stall cooks them in a giant bubbling vat over a coal fire, giving a mesmerizing smell as the warm coal notes cut through the usually chilly October air. They are served in cups mostly splattered with a generous helping of mint sauce. It isn't a hand food I've come across elsewhere.

Then there is the Cock on a stick. This is a boiled sugar confection, that has been pulled into a kind of S-shape and then turned into a reasonable resembelance of a rooster, of course they are sold by the double entendre, they come in 3 sizes small, medium & large, though the small ones are a bit less popular. Fortunately the BBC interviewed their maker and he can explain it better than me. 

My weakness is for pig in a bun, preferably with a bit of crackling and both stuffing & apple sauce, this year I was spoilt by a man with an entire pig on a spit which seemed to have been cooked very slowly, it was a pleasure to sit on the bank above the fair, sauce dribbling down my chin the cacophony of the rides drifting upto me. It may sound like a humble, dodgy van snack, but it was the very essence of enjoyable food & drink.

(*) The jerk chicken though is better at the Carribean carnival, that takes place in July.

A little gardening

I have a garden, it is quite small. If I had my way, it'd be quite large, part of it would be for the growing of roses, part would be for sitting out (BBQing & the like), and part would be for fruit & veg.

I don't have that though, so I have to creatively squeeze things into the space I do have, this means herbs in pots, strawberries & tomatoes in hanging baskets and a couple of multi-purpose plants around the roses(*).

The multi-purpose plants are currently nasturtiums and lavender. Nasturtiums are quite cool, they grow like blazes, the flowers are both cheerful & edible, and the leaves make a spicy addition to a salad (think rocket/cilantro). The lavender is a shade odder. Of course you can harvest the flowers to use in bath salts, herb sachets, pillows and other asstd smelly/aromatherapy uses, but you can cook with them too.

The first trial was a lavender syrup (simple syrup, 2 sugar, 1 water plus a couple of tsp lavender flowers). This added to a standard gin martini, makes a really relaxing summer drink. An attempt at lavender shortcake followed, andwhilst it was ok wasn't quite right.

The internet provided a recipe for lavender loaf cake, a bit of reading around & jiggling quantities & ingredients, making a lavendar infused honey drizzle (2 tsp honey, 4 tsp water, 3 dashes lavender syrup. Heat till free flowing drizzle of loaf as soon as it comes out of the oven). Its a winner, the cake is moist enough to withstand the loaf form and the flavour of lavender is not overpowering.

Now what to do with the abundance of Sage ?

(*)The roses are non-negotiable.

Why go to all that trouble ?

It is a lot of hassle for 2 meals, making your own steak & kidney pie.

After all it takes about 2 hours (ok you aren't slaving away all that time), pastry is a notoriously fickle product, and there ends up being a fair bit of washing up (not just from the gore-fest that is coring kidneys). I'll admit I could have bought "jus-roll"(*) or similar and made my life at least a bit more washing up free. I could have just bought a pie.

Buying steak & kidney pie is fraught with difficulty. You see as far as I'm concerned a pie has three layers.

1:- Pastry base, no base, its not a pie (at best its a liddy)
2:- Filling, the most obvious one
3:- Lid, made of pastry (miss this off & its a tart or maybe a flan)

Most of the recipes I found where for steak & kidney liddies (yes even Gordon Ramsey, and more shockingly the 2 fat ladies). I had to fettle together about 4 recipes & my own knowledge of cooking meat to get where I wanted to be. Which was a proper pie, baked in a dish and put on the plate as a quadrant of lovliness.

So yes worth the hassle. If it was only to have the kidneys cooked right (ie not overdone shrivelled rubbery things that you end up with from store bought pie(**)). Since the autumn seems to be trying to arrive I forsee more offal & more pie in the future, I might even go for 2 day hot pot.

(*) I think there is half a pack in the freezer left over from custard tarts
(**) I understand that the way frozen/ready meals are sold it means the kidney has to be cooked through before they leave for the shops, doesn''t mean I have to like it though

Hello World

As it says up in the title box, this is going to be my Food & Drink space.
Hopefully it'll be updated at least weekly, with recipes, cocktails and some eating out. There should also be the occasional editorial entries, considering taste & my collection of gastatorial prejudices.

Once I've got myself organized I'll be posting yesterday's steak & kidney pie.