Kit Kat Freak

It's amazing, you can live with someone for years, you think you know everything there is to know about them and then, boom, like a bolt out of the blue you discover they've had a favourite lunch snack all their life and you had no idea. This happened recently when adam came home from work one day banging on and on about a run in with a crazy Kit Kat. I can't possibly do the story that followed justice so I'll let him explain what happened...

I love Kit Kats and I have one as an after lunch snack pretty much everyday. This is in neat harmony with the history of the bar which, according to Wikipedia, "...was developed after a worker at the Rowntree's factory in York put a suggestion in the suggestion box for a snack that a 'man could have in his lunch box for work'." The real coincidence is that Kit Kats take their name from an 18th century literary club, the Kit-Cat Club, named after Christopher Catling the keeper of the pie-house in Shire Lane, by Temple Bar, where the club originally met. Where I buy my Kit Kats is freakishly close to being in that exact location. However, even knowing these facts couldn't have prepared me for what I experienced when I bit into a Kit Kat a couple of weeks ago on an otherwise normal day. Expecting the usual crunch of chocolate covered wafer, I was stunned when I realised that in my mouth, and in my hand, was a bar of solid chocolate.



With a telephone right in front of me, and vague tales of boxes of product being delivered as compensation floating around my head, there was only one thing to do. I called Nestle to complain. If I'd wanted a plain chocolate bar I would have bought one after all, and not one made of Kit Kat chocolate. The man I spoke with was very affable and he explained to me that I probably had no idea of the scale of the production of Kit Kats. Being that they are the UK's number one chocolate bar and number one biscuit, he was probably right. I confess, I'd never put much thought to it. Apparently, giant sheets of wafer drop into a mould which is then filled with liquid chocolate. Occasionally the wafer doesn't land exactly in the correct spot and some areas of the mould gets filled entirely with chocolate, which must be what happened to mine. It is the job of workers at the factory to spot this and make sure any mutant Kit Kats get destroyed. After quizzing me for some numbers on the wrapper, he said he'd send me a cheque. A few days later I was bemused when a cheque arrived in the post, for £3!



£3 is not quite as good as a big box of Kit Kats but, hell, it's better than a kick in the teeth.



If you have time, check out the Kit Kat Palace to find out all the crazy Kit Kat flavours they have in Japan. Anyone for Green Tea Kit Kats?

blueberry and rose, gimme some of those

There is no humanity. On Saturday Australia's future was full of promise. This week I discover Bindi Irwin has released a rap song. I cry for our fair land, I really do. Closer to home, I suffered my own personal setback last weekend after a footpath flew into my face and took out my chin. The damage: a couple of hours in A&E and three stitches. Klutz. Desperately in need of fluffy loveliness, I duly baked a batch of blueberry and lemon cakes with rose icing.

The base recipe for this is lifted from the Guardian Guide to Baking. They call it 'the easiest cake in the world', totally ludicrous if you are familiar with my nan's Frankie's Cake, which I doubt, so believe me when I tell you it has nothing as fancy as sour cream or even butter in it. Incidentally, if the amount of butter in this recipe freaks you out, when I plumped the quantities with blueberries it made me a decent sized cake (18 cm round) as well as eight cupcakes. (The recipe recommends a 20cm round tin.) So unless you are planning on a heaving solo face stuffing, a lot of butter goes a long way.



What you need for a blueberry and lemon split-chin-on-the-mend cake
200g unsalted butter, softened
250g caster sugar
2 large eggs
200g sour cream
300g plain flour
3 level tsp baking powder
grated peel of one lemon
one tub of blueberries
Squeeze of lemon juice

And for the rose petal icing
50g icing sugar
100g cream cheese
rose essence
A little butter
candied rose petals and sparkly pink bits for decorating
Squeeze of lemon juice

Making it
Butter and line the base of your tin with non-stick baking paper. Cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, then add the lemon rind and eggs, one at a time, and beat well till combined. Beat the sour cream and lemon juice into the mixture then sift in the flour and baking powder and beat it through. When it's all mixed, fold in the blueberries.

Spoon the mixture into the tin or cupcake tray, heat the oven to 180C (160C fan-assisted) and bake for 45 minutes to an hour (15-20 mins for cupcakes) or until a skewer inserted comes out clean.

Cool the cake while you make the icing. Beat the cream cheese, icing sugar, squeeze of citrus, a few drops of rose essence and butter together (it may help to sit the bowl over hot water so everything mixes properly) till smooth. Slide over your cooled cake and sprinkle with lovely bits. Best served with fresh peppermint tea and a peachy grin.

Expect the unexpected

Last Sunday we went to the farmer's market and then went home to cook lunch for what Carters told me would be a few people. With celeriac and butternut squash in abundance, I decided to make Lily's Celeriac soup and a roast butternut and sage risotto. Whilst making the soup, I noticed the doorbell buzzing a few more times than I had anticipated and we soon had more guests than chairs.

Mental note: always press Carters for details

I decided to change my risotto plans (bulk risotto always seems to end up gluey), and after a quick scrounge around in our overstuffed pantry, made a salad with Orzo pasta instead.


ROASTED BUTTERNUT SQUASH, CELERY AND FETA ORZO SALAD

What you need
2 small butternut squash de-seeded and cut into cubes (I left the skin on but you might prefer to remove it)
3 stalks of celery, thinly sliced
a few handfuls of baby spinach leaves
good olive oil
thyme
feta, cubed
6-7 cloves of garlic
walnuts, roughly chopped

The do
Throw the cubed butternut squash into a baking dish with few sprigs of thyme, the garlic (whole, unpeeled) and a good splash of olive oil and salt and pepper. Bake at about 200 degrees Celsius until the cubes are soft and golden.
Boil the pasta and drain.
Using your fingers squeeze out the baked garlic from their skins into a big salad bowl. Toss with the drained pasta, butternut squash, celery, feta, walnuts and spinach. Dress with a liberal amount of good olive oil and salt and pepper to taste.



Take your apron off, pour yourself a glass wine and join in the party. We all had a lovely afternoon (except for the kitten who struggled with her first encounter with a boisterous child), great food, great booze and great conversation. That's what it's all about, innit?

The sweet taste of defeat

Nice call with the bubbly Chew. No more Mister Evil! Woohoo! What a thrill to lie in bed this morning, watching and listening as the old dog was given a fine kicking, never to be Australia's big boss man again. Even my recently apathetic heart danced with a lovely, sweet, sugary, jam and cream sort of joy. Which segues nicely into a much more appealing topic: high tea. My little sister visited in August and it became a sort of unofficial high tea tour of London. I've never come across someone so obsessed with a daily 3pm scone.

First stop, the very conventional Kensington Palace as I'd read many an enthusiastic review of the Orangery. Their scones were nice enough - generously proportioned, heavy, not overly dry, with a big glob of strawberry jam and thick cream. The fresh mint tea was also super but the atmosphere was stifling and glum... a blue rinse would have looked positively lively in this joint. Still, the post-scone stroll through Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park made the location pretty choice.

At the opposite end of the scale was Sketch Gallery, a Mayfair mash up of art, design, dining, drinking and intergalactic toilet pods. We took tea in the Parlour and I couldn't bring myself to scone it when there were so many delicious looking cakes on offer. I chose some sort of blueberry macaroon thingy. Absolutely divine, as was the pretty china it arrived on. And, if choosing just one sweet proves too difficult, Sketch will do up a pretty little take-home box of laters for you.

Finally to Trafalger Square and the National Portrait Gallery's roof-top restaurant. Its view takes in all London's heavy hitters, like Nelson's Column, Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament and London Eye, which is just as well because you'll need something to feast on while you try and make the two miniature scones on your plate last more than two bites. More ridiculous is the fact that each comes with its own teeny weeny pot of jam. My tip is to bypass the dough in favour of a glass of wine.

Celebrating the Ruddslide

...and back in London, a domestic cat eyes off some veggie sausages.

the blood thirsty vegetarian

I'm a little out of the groove here at Lily & Chew HQ so excuse me if I step back to October for a tick. Adam and I went to Tanzania and were lucky enough to stumble across this feast in progress. Watching (and listening to) this lion rip the skin off a zebra then clean and crunch its bones near dry is one of the most incredible things I have ever experienced.

Lazing on a gingery afternoon

It is Sunday morning and the plan is to meet Lily for lunch on Columbia Rd. Only problem is, it is very cold, dark, wet and windy and I don't really feel like leaving the house.

As if on cue, I receive a text message from Lily:
I'm not sure I can make it out today

me: I was thinking the same thing. That's fine. I'm all roasty toasty reading Xmas recipes in the food monthly.

L: Me too!

So onto plan B. With a whole afternoon to myself I decide to have another crack at baking. My tendency to freestyle when following a recipe is usually a good thing with savoury dishes, but almost always spells disaster in the land of cake. I'm going to try really hard with this one and resist the urge to meddle.
I've chosen to bake the double ginger cake from Nigel Slater's Kitchen Diaries (a book that all self respecting food lovers should own) But if you are waiting for it to turn up in your Christmas stocking this year, here is the recipe

The cake turned out springy, wonderfully moist without that greasy, fatty feeling. And above all it is really, really, really gingery (just between you and me, I threw in a few extra teaspoons of ground ginger and used soy milk. I just couldn't help myself). To keep with the ginger theme, I decided make ginger milk tea, which I first tried when I was in Singapore. It partners beautifully with this cake.
Mmmmmm. Soooo warm. Thanks Nigel.

Indian/Singaporean ginger tea
This is a simple variation on normal black tea, it has a lovely gingery kick to it and it also settles the stomach.
Using a mandolin or a sharp knife slice a few slivers of ginger into a mug or teapot, I used about five slices for a a mug but you might want more or less depending on how you like it.
Make tea as you would normally, leave it to brew a little longer to allow the ginger to infuse. Add milk or soy milk, and sugar if you like it.

If it's good enough for a drunk woman

Some of my best cooking has happened while drunk. It's a crying shame when I wake up with a sweet memory of the tastiest early morning supper ever but no recollection of how it happened or what it was. So after returning from Ben and Kara's going-away bash a couple of Sundays ago I made a determined effort to record the meal that followed. I even left clues for myself, like a smashed plate, crumbs in my hair, a fridge ajar and half a blog post that I have only just found again. This really was bloody delicious (I think.)

What you need for a Smashed Bread and Caper Bake sort of thing
Whatever's in the kitchen (in my case baby potatoes, avocado and tomato)
Onion
Capers
Bread
Cheese
A couple of eggs

How you make it
Pour yourself yet another glass of white wine. Finely chop the onion and soften it in a pan with the capers (if you accidentally tip your wine into the pan at this point it can only be a good thing for you and your dinner). Preheat your oven to 200. Oil a porcelain baking dish well and line it with bread. Top the bread with your stuff -- in this case, sliced avocado, halved par-boiled potatoes and slices of tomato mixed with the cooked onion. Break the egg over it all then top with crumbled or grated cheese. Bake for around 20 minutes (so the egg white isn't gelatinous anymore) then grill to brown the cheese. Serve drunk.

Bonfire night

Over the weekend, I trekked out to Wells in Somerset to attend Joseph's 2nd birthday party, part of which involved many fireworks, a bonfire and a lot of food.

Sitting in front of the outdoor fire with my face roasting and my back freezing, I was reminded of my first bonfire cooking experience on a school trip when I was 10. We were ordered to hunt around in the dark for a stick, shove some damper dough on the end and then cook it over the fire. Admittedly, I was more concerned about the hygiene of the stick (an animal could have peed on it!) but once we chowed down on those hot dampers with some honey and butter I soon forgot all about bugs, dirt and animal pee.



So back to the weekend. Carter's sister, Coo, put on a delicious spread - hearty tomato lentil soup, vegetarian sausages and baked potatoes. Perfect bonfire fare.
A few of the potatoes from the oven were a little underdone, so we wrapped a few up in some tin foil with a generous chunk of butter, a good sprinkling of mixed herbs, salt and pepper.



(TIP: When wrapping the potato, gather the tin foil at the top and twist, so it looks like a Hershey's kiss chocolate - this will make it easier to pick up after you have kicked it out of the fire.)
We then placed the wrapped potatoes on the embers on the outskirts of the fire, forgot about them ... then removed them after a few glasses of Cava and half a dozen fireworks.
The end result is a delicious soft, fluffy potato encased in a crunchy smokey skin.

Instead of mixed herbs you could also try a crushed clove of garlic, or fresh herbs if you have some. But it will always taste better with the smell of gunpowder lingering in the air.






ps. I would like to add that I am also a bit shit. I have to post more often. So that's my new years resolution ... six weeks early.

Acting the goat

I'm shit, I know. For far too long I've left Chew to battle blog empathy on her own in the dandelion leaf wilderness and I haven't got a great excuse beyond failing to multitask. But more on that laters.

First, to regain some semblance of continuity, there's one more thing to say about Paris. True, the socialist city will never win Vegan Friendly Town of the Year award, but there is one vego plate you should be able to ask for, sans menu, in any Parisienne restaurant without anyone spitting with disgust into your souffle. And so to my re-entry into everything Lily & Chew -- a variation on the formidable chevre salad. (It's a lowly place to crawl back from but I've got to start somewhere...)

What you need for a toasty chevre salad
100g wheel of goat's cheese (I cut mine in half to make wheels for two)
Baby spinach leaves
Grainy bread (sliced thickly for toast)
Baby potatoes
A few fresh sage leaves
1 boiled egg for each plate
Dressing (for me - red wine vinegar, olive oil, S&P)

Making it
Boil the potatoes for about 10 minutes then drain and toss them in some olive oil, torn sage leaves and sea salt. Roast for 15 minutes (or until the potatoes are golden and the sage crispy). Build the spinach, with wedges of tomato and boiled egg, on plates. Toast one side of bread under a grill then turn over and toast the other side very lightly before placing the chevre wheels on top. Grill until the cheese is melting, golden and a little bubbly (careful not to burn your toast). Scatter the roast potatoes and crispy sage around your salad then top with the chevre toast. Dress it up and dig in.