And it’s not just that the images themselves are shocking, it’s also that the practices they depict, namely extreme sideways coiffery and kebabanibalism, weren’t just legal back then; they were actively encouraged!
The real sociological insight for me, though, comes from the way that recipe card is introduced: ‘classic adaptation’. Really? Of what? The usual myriad of humdrum man-flesh dishes? ‘Not human again! How passé! Let’s jazz it up by chopping it into bits and threading it onto skewers like they do abroad. Oh, yes, now that’s exotic!’
More insights into the unfathomable workings of the mid-seventies culinary mind here.
Oh are you indeed? Well maybe it’s about time you took a leaf out of this man’s (weird) book.
He’s not written a book, by the way. Although if he did I would definitely buy it. Perhaps while perparing a simple broth and, I don’t know, doing ‘walk the dog’ with a yo yo.
The sight of me making a salad is rare. Exquisite, but rare. It’s just that after a grueling day slumped motionless in front of a computer screen I need something warm and hearty – two things a salad seldom is. Unless it’s made from roasted veg, mixed beans and draped with some sort of fried cheese, say.
Fried halloumi salad with chilli and crispy garlic
Get yourself:
4 baby aubergines (the ones that are about as long as your finger).
1 large courgette.
Half a red onion.
3/4 tin of mixed beans (mine were chickpeas and fava beans).
2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped.
Half a large red chilli, de-seeded and equally finely chopped.
5 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil.
A handful of coriander leaf and stalk, chopped coarsely.
Warm the oil on a low heat and add the chopped garlic and chilli. Keep stirring until the garlic is golden-brown and looks crunchy. Then take off the heat and sieve, retaining both the flavoured oil and the crispy bits.
Slice the courgette in long diagonal lengths, about 5mm thick, and do the same to the aubergines. Peel your onion and slice in into rounds, again, about 5mm thick. Douse your veg in the flavoured oil, keeping aside one tablespoon for later on. Now season the veg with a good pinch of salt and put under a hot grill, or if you have a griddle pan: use that. As they are cooking, add your beans to a pan and begin to warm them through. Once your vegetables are soft and look nicely roasted, remove them from the grill and add them to a large bowl with your warmed beans. Add the juice of half a lemon and mix.
Now it’s time to fry your halloumi. Add the remaining spicy oil to a medium-hot non-stick pan and fry the cheese until brown on both sides.
To finish, add the chopped coriander to the salad and check the dressing with your finger – it may need another squeeze of lemon. Then lay on the fried cheese and garnish with a sprinkle of the crispy garlic and chilli mix. Hearty veg, zesty dressing, salty cheese: rude-bwoy-inna-Kingstan!
There has never been a better time to eat ox. Fact. It’s pricing is ‘recession friendly’, you can now buy it in your local Waitrose (cheek or tail – both good) and crucially, it’s Chinese year of it. Which in the past has served as a handy excuse for me to eat rats (2008) and, before that, monkeys (2004) – both of which tasted nothing like chickens (1982 – present, tenuous justification not required).
But I have a confession to make: despite being weaned on tinned oxtail soup I had, until yesterday, never experienced the joys of its cheek. Knowingly anyway. Apparently butchers sometimes hide it in their mince. Can’t think why, it’s delicious. It’s courser grained than most beef cuts and has a far stronger flavour – ever so slightly offally. But don’t be put off by this, it does what kidney does to a good steak pie: lends a deep savouryness to the gravy.
Like most ‘forgotten cuts’ it does take a bit of cooking, and like most things that take a bit of cooking, it’s even better the next day. So my advice to you is this: fix a quick pasta dinner, wolf it down, make a start on the stew below and let it bubble away late into the night. Then, the next day, all you need to do is whack it on the stove and boil some potatoes for a bit of mash. Or you could do what I did and accidentally go to the pub for a few hours and pick up some chips on the way home. Cheeky.
Ox cheek in beer
You’ll need:
4 tablespoons of vegetable oil.
2 large onions, sliced.
3 carrots.
2 sticks of celery.
1 ox cheek.
About 300ml of good English beer (I used Bishop’s Finger – very nice too).
3/4 pint chicken stock (you’ll get away with a cube).
2 bayleaves.
4 tablespoons of balsamic vinegar (the cheap stuff is fine for this).
Put a large heavy-bottomed saucepan on a low heat and add a tablespoon of oil. Drop in your onions and fry them until they’re an even brown colour. This could take twenty minutes.
As they’re doing, chop the carrots, celery and cheek into two centimetre chunks. Slip the meat into a freezer bag with the flour and a generous pinch of salt and pepper. Massage the bag until the meat is evenly coated in the mix, then take it out and set it aside.
Remember to give your onions a stir from time to time. If they’re ready before you’ve finished the next step, take them off the heat.
Add three tablespoons of oil to a hot sauté pan and fry the cheek pieces on each side until they look like little cubes of mahogany. Remove from the pan and put in a bowl. Now tip out any left over oil from the pan, return it to the hob and add a few splashes of the beer. This will give you a chance to loosen any stuck-on bits with a spoon. Once the bottom of the pan is clean, pour this mini gravy into the bowl with your ox meat.
Your onions must be brown by now, so add to them your carrots, celery and the balsamic vinegar and turn the heat up to medium. Once all the vinegar has reduced away to nothing, add your beery ox.
All that remains now is to add the rest of the beer, the chicken stock, bay leaves and lots of salt and pepper, and let it simmer, covered, on a very low heat for around two hours or until the ox cheek is meltingly tender.
Some great ones here courtesy of my friend Tom, from a recent trip to Slovakia.
As much as I don’t really like the sound of “Michaels surprise”, it is touching to see the ex-Wham! frontman’s infamous ‘coming out’ celebrated through the medium of chops.
