Of Dreams and Nightmares

Nightmare! That's all I need! It turns out one of my dinner guests tonight is the daughter of the woman who makes the finest Rhubarb and Apple Crumble in Northern Ireland. I might just have to switch desserts now to Bread Pudding and keep it quiet that I am a very close relative of the woman that makes the finest samples of that same said pudding known to man.

I shopped for an hour in Asda last night (for I hadn't seen Gruyere cheese at Tesco and had to chance my luck elsewhere). When I couldn't find the cheese I broke a very male tradition of not asking and went to the woman behind the cheese counter for help. She had never heard of Gruyere and assured me with confidence that I wouldn't find it anywhere in "Anrim". I couldn't find the napkins so I asked her where those were. There was no sign of the tomato puree so she helped me find that too. By the time of my third request I thought she might as well have hopped into one of those toy cars attach it to my trolley and navigate me round for the rest of the evening.

I left with my third full trolley in as many days.

I soldier on knowing that by tomorrow's blog the ordeal will be over and it will all seem just like a dream....

Of great teams and indivudal efforts

I was master of the Titanic in the kitchen again last night. The carrots and celery in the quorn veggie stir fry were too hard. The rice too dry. Overall, it was completely tasteless.

I have 36 hours and two more attempts left to sort out a middle course before "Come be poisoned by me" on Thursday night. If I don't make it, I guess I'll have to fill the kitchen with smoke, fake an oven explosion and offer to take guests somewhere less threatening to their health and safety like a good local restaurant.

It's perhaps ironic I guess that my current reading (other than a multitude of cookbooks) is "Winning" by Clive Woodward who coached the England rugby team to World Cup success in 1993. I've just got to the point that the team has returned heads bowed from a tour of the Southern Hemisphere where they got a good drubbing. Remarkably, Woodward doesn't appear rattled. I guess the sign of a great team is how it handles failure until success comes its way. Let's hope the same applies to a chef too...

Of Rhubarb Ramblings

More disaster. Had a go last night at stewed pairs in red wine. Hard and tasteless. Then tried rhubarb and apple crumble. Edible but apple too hard and crumble too powdery. Also an errant bit of garlic found its way into the dish which didn't help at all. Beginning to panic a little now as I have just 48 hours until "Come be Ill with Me" happens on Thursday. This goal of mine to eat, appreciate and cook better food was designed to help me keep in shape. Instead, I'm just stuffing my face full of all these aborted practice runs. I can't leave even bad food go to waste. Guess it's a "I've been to Africa and seen too many starving people" kind of thing.

In an attempt to burn some of the rhubarb and custard calories I ran to work this morning at 7a.m. through the woods and along the river. It was dark, cold and a bit creepy but at the same time lovely too. The sun was just rising over the Lough as I sped round the corner of the meadows on my way through the park. I arrived to work pumped up and ready for the day. Who needs to be able to do rhubarb crumble anyway? It's hardly a life skill is it??

Of three strikes and you're out

It's been a productive weekend although not always of the best quality - at least where the cooking is concerned. I had another go at homemade bread on Saturday. This time it rose but it was gooey inside. Too much water I'm guessing. I'm trying again tonight. Let's hope it's third time lucky. If it's not I'm just going to stick to the sliced Mother's Pride from Tesco. Maybe I'm one of the those who just can't need dough properly. Gran used to say that their are people like this in the world - their hands are just too cold. Or was that Gran just sitting out another household chore?

The trouble with my coooking is that once I've finished the kitchen looks like a tornado has hit it. I can't seem to use the one knife in a process of carving, cutting and chopping. Instead I seem to use 24. Perhaps the solution is to tie three essential utensils on a string round my neck so I know what is to be used and where it is to be found.

Of Strange Starts & Finishes

Yesterday was a strange day. I awoke late. Too late for breakfast. I couldn't find anywhere to park near my first meeting that wasn't reserved for unnamed others. I missed lunch. By late afternoon I was walking to meetings in driving rain and gales. By 5p.m. I was Mr Grumpygit personified. Then came a decision. Hang around for two hours and go for dinner with a dozen strangers as a guest of a partner company or call it quits and go home. I stayed and sat next to someone who is probably one of the most inspiring people/leaders I've ever met.

Strange how days start and finish and the bit in between....

Of Knocking ya Panne in and Of Bad Workmen....

It was an utter disaster : "BP's bake your own bread day". I followed the recipe precisely but that was the problem it wasn't at all precise. No - it wasn't really ....

It told me to put in half a sachet of yeast but my yeast from Tesco came in a tin and a large one at that. It advised me to let the dough settle "somewhere warm". Would this be somewhere of room temperature? the airing cupboard? a gently heating over? Spain? Egypt? It didn't say for how long either, 10 minutes? an hour? 2 days? 3 months?

They say you should always take a positive from a negative. Here are my three positives : 1. Nobody died during this experiment, 2. The house still smells lovely, 3. I now how a door wedge for at least the next three days.

Of Talkin About Revolutions

The local swimming pool is closed now for two weeks for renovation work. This morning I had the cross trainer out at the end of the garden for a quick work out.

It was a lovely morning, the air fresh and healthy and the sound of the river soothed the pain as I battled my way to 30 minutes of serious sweat. The only problem was that the cross trainer has developed a squeak and 30 of them every minute proved enough to wake the neighbour who didn't look too pleased at 7 o'clock in the morning.

I was listening to the news as I went. The Beeb seems totally obsessed with Egypt at the moment but then I guess everyone likes a revolution. The news also reported that Chelsea has paid $70million for a footballer whilst recording almost as much of a loss last year. I think the world has gone mad. Perhaps my neighbour would agree....