The last time I mentioned my toasted-sandwich maker, it was
in a post about my kitchen clutter. Yesterday I was putting some steak knives
away in the back of a cupboard – they live in a wooden block which itself is part of the clutter: to be honest
we don’t often have steak – and I had to move the said sandwich maker, and the
tray bake pan balanced on top of it, to do so. It was then that I discovered an
electric juicer.
This particular juicer, which is more battery-powered than
electric per se, is not one of those
drink-making machines. It will literally juice half a citrus fruit, and is
operated by pressing the lid down. The juicer was probably a free gift given
away by one of my wife’s catalogues. I don’t think either of us is so silly as
to have bought such an item.
The juicer count in the kitchen is thus four (I was about to
type three when I recalled the lever-operated device we bought when we tasted
real lemonade at a music festival). The other two are a Tupperware version which
also has a grater and – if I could only find it – an egg-separator, and a
simple wooden one which probably yelled out at me from an artisan craft stall
somewhere.
I don’t need four juicers.
The battery version can go – we’re neither of us so crocked with
arthritis or bursitis that it would save any effort or pain. The lever-operated
version is useful for bulk juicing, and I suppose it has some aesthetic appeal
sat on the windowsill. That leaves the Tupperware and the wooden juicers. I
think the planet is already damaged by my having four when one or two is
sufficient, so it is not a case of choosing recyclable material over
non-recyclable.
In the final analysis, the Tupperware juicer has no
redeeming features. Its built-in jug feature is of little use, the
egg-separator is lost, and the grater itself one of a group of competing
kitchen items.
The wooden juicer wins. A kitchen drawer becomes slightly
less cramped. Mary Berry’s Cooker Course
has struck again, because the steak knives were in use for her Steak with Onion Marmalade, and the
juicer(s) for her Lemon Drizzle Traybake,
of which more anon.
“I’ve gone back to
basics – the classic recipes we all love, cooked simply.” So says Mary
Berry in the introduction to one of her latest books (Berry, M (2013), Mary Berry’s Cookery Course, London:
Dorling Kindersley Limited).
Since I too have gone back to basics, this is not the place
to be churlish about whether “classic” means “recycled”. However, one
observation I have about many a book masquerading as a ‘cookery course’ is that
they are usually just a selection of recipes with some added ‘how to’ inserts.
Mary Berry’s does however go so far as to include a compendium of techniques
cross-referenced to the recipes in which they are used. That is better than
most, but I am resigned to the idea that working through this book is not like
undergoing a course of instruction: it is more about prompts to my learning.
The next few posts in this blog are therefore a sort of ‘learning
journal’ in which to reflect on what I have picked up, practised, and pondered.
Although I intend to follow every recipe and technique in the book, I don’t
want to make soups for a week, become egg-bound the next, and so on. I will
skip on to recipes that help vary our family diet and fit with our activities and
the actual availability of ingredients: which brings us to Mango Passion.
Mango Passion is a
simple pudding, and since our Abel and
Cole box contained a mango the week before last, I thought it expedient to
use. Unbelievably, it still wasn’t ripe enough: the flesh was quite firm and
unblemished and when I cut into it, it wasn’t that deep – the ‘stone’ being
quite large and impenetrable. That perhaps is why it didn’t taste of much, and
perhaps next time I make such a simple pudding, I’ll use something else.
The fruit layer has a sprinkling of sugar, and the whole
pudding is topped off with quite a bit too. I used dark instead of light Muscavado
sugar in order to avoid a 24km round trip grocery expedition. It seems to me
that Muscavado either doesn’t contain anti-caking agents, or the molasses in it
are hygroscopic: either way, the bag was a solid lump. Breaking off the right
amount and then using a blender I ended up with something akin to icing sugar.
A search on the web indicates the ‘bricking’ is due to a loss of moisture, and that among the remedies are to put a slice of
apple of moist bread in the bag for a day or so before use. Another
contribution suggested using a grater, which I think more immediately
practical.
On the topic of equipment, this pudding would probably look
better in a dish that is slightly taller than it is wide. The shallow glass
bowls I used made the pudding look a bit ‘lumpy’: simple can also look elegant!
The essence of the recipe is fruit, sugared as necessary,
covered in a yoghurt and crème fraîche mix, topped off with brown sugar which
absorbs moisture and hence makes the top look like a crème brulée. It can be
made hours in advance, refrigerated, and brought back to room temperature
before serving.
