30 May 2012

If you read yesterday's blog you will recall that I was convinced I would dream about food last night as my hair had rather alluringly taken on the smell of roast meats (If you are new to this blog you are now either curious, or concerned for my mental health). Well, I did indeed dream of kitchens! But that's all I can remember (there may also have been a unicorn).

I decided to 'wash that beef right out of my hair' before class this morning lest any of the school's dogs find me irresistible. Turns out I needn't have bothered as today's demonstration was mainly dedicated to cooking meat! Roast rib of beef, Short ribs, Stuffed breast of lamb, Braised neck of lamb (I cannot get my head around eating necks) Braised lamb shanks, Cassoulet, Yorkshire puddings, Parsnips, Hummus, Dukkah, Basil pesto, Pitta bread and various marmalades. 

I only started eating red meat three years ago. Learning to eat meat was a slow process starting with bolognaise and stews and then moving to lamb chops and finally steak. Three years ago, I could only eat a streak if it was cooked beyond well-done to carcinogenic, but these days I can handle medium. Today's roast beef was what Nigella would describe as 'Nothing a good vet couldn't bring around'. Not for me, thanks. I also tried a Yorkshire pudding for the first time today. I know this might be a a bit controversial but I don't see what the fuss is about - batter cooked in beef fat? Does anyone need that?

Shhh ... If you listen carefully you can hear him Moo.

In this afternoon's wine lecture we were visited by a 5th generation master cooper who showed us how barrels (casks) are made - really very fascinating stuff. We also were given an example of a wine that had corked so that we couldn't learn to recognise the distinctive smell - described by the Sommelier as 'musty damp cardboard'. For me the smell evoked a memory of a certain furry blue towel in the bathroom of a share house that a certain Editor lived in when I first met him. It was permanently slumped in a corner, resigned to its own stinky uselessness. Everyone knew that if you dried yourself with this towel you would in fact defeat the entire purpose of the shower you had just stepped out of, so we left it alone. So, now I will never forget the smell of corked wine.

Hes not in the barrel, he's behind it.

 

Last week I was concerned that I had tasted six wines before lunch, today my concern was tasting six wines immediately before a Pilates class. Murphy's law dictates that because I was feeling just a tiny bit dodgy, there was an extended number of exercises that involved laying on our stomachs with our faces pressed into mats which smelt like other people's feet. Fabulous. I have had to continue drinking now that I am home.

Tomorrow I am making chocolate eclairs, white bread, sole goujons and coriander aioli ... and The Editor is coming for lunch. Stay tuned.