Pasta dishes always sound far better, and rather more enticing, when described in Italian. This clearly has something to do with the word ‘pasta’ being virtually synonymous with its country of origin. However, let us not kid ourselves; describing a dish in another language, especially a rather romantic one, does give one a sense of expertise and an air of authority. Having said that, I jolly well hope that my Italian is, at least on this occasion, correct.
In recent weeks my Grandfather has developed a penchant for divulging a number of his favourite Clement Freud anecdotes. His favourite story concerns a trip Freud made to Mexico. Whilst in Mexico, Freud thought he would sample the delights of a true Central American Chilli, something he soon regretted. After ordering ‘six bottled of beer in quick succession’, Freud advised the chef that it may be best to warn visitors about the deadly speciality. The chef replied that ‘the ratio [of chilli to meat] was about one to one.’ Had Freud wanted his chilli with only a little spice the chef said that ‘there was an American place just down the road.’ I think it’s rather a humorous little tale, though perhaps you’ll disagree if you are an American. Anyway, a deep interest on the writings of Freud developed within, and I asked to borrow my Grandfather’s copy of ‘Freud of Food’. To my delight I discovered that my taste in humour shared an even closer affinity to that of Freud’s, when I discovered a section entitled, ‘Give The Wife A Break’.
Is there any finer meat than lamb? If cooked properly, no other meat can match its exquisite taste and texture. Of course, beef has its virtues, but it lacks that little sparkle of flavour that forces me to freely admit that I am a little in love with lamb. Hold the jokes. There is but one problem with the meat of those little sheep; it’s so damn expensive. For instance, cubed leg of lamb comes in at a whopping £13/kg. As such, the only financially viable option is to opt for the far cheaper fillets of lambs neck – roughly £5/kg. Happily, since the neck contains both bone and cartilage it is extremely tasty and succulent. It is almost impossible to over-rate the impact of bone marrow on a dish such as this.
Today I bring you, my faithful readers, yet another recipe borrowed and adapted from the ever useful BBC GoodFood. However, as I have recently discussed the virtues of this wonderful site I shan’t subject any of my followers to more of the same, just yet. To be honest, one hardly needs to use a recipe for a dish like this – it’s more about the idea, reading something that places the drive to cook a certain dish into one’s head. I think this is the case with a lot of my creations and remains one of the main reasons I read an awful lot of recipes posted across wordpress. There’s nothing better than discovering the ideas or foodie nuances of fellow bloggers and adapting them to one’s own lifestyle or flavour preference. After all, one person alone cannot come up with too many dishes all at once, such creativity demands inspiration. So, thank-you wordpress!
My dad recently purchased a couple of second-hand copies of Jamie Oliver’s first two books. Although I haven’t followed any recipes to their exact specifications I will have to note, in a few of my future posts, that he has provided me with a little inspiration and culinary guidance. As you have probably guessed this is one such recipe. I get the feeling that there are a couple of fairly common mistakes people tend to make when cooking their own tomato sauce, mistakes I shall attempt to rectify. Firstly, one must remember that chopped tomatoes are entirely useless and that peeled plum tomatoes are simply the only way to go. Secondly, one must cook a tomato sauce for at least an hour in order to remove any bitterness from the seeds. In fact, some Italian chefs cook theirs for up to three hours!