The rules are simple:
1. The histopathologist I live with selects two cards at random from the box of Marguerite Patten recipe cards (1967, rev. 1973; $5);
2. Whatever the recipe, I cook it, and we eat it;
3. As far as possible, the exact ingredients listed on the card must be followed;
4. The resulting "dish" is photographed so that my loyal and frenzied readers may do a comparison with the original;
5. There are 10 jokers for things we really can't eat, e.g. brains in aspic or tongue terrine.
As an added bonus (and do please hang on to your hats, I fear the top of your heads may blow off with the excitement), the French-Canadian veterinary research pathologist will do a PotLuck Review.
The pathologist is also entrusted with keeping me on the straight and narrow. For e.g., this is the first card he picked out of the box tonight (and that I must therefore cook tomorrow):
The words: "That's a bit pissing boring. I know, I'll pick another one", were met with: "What, you're breaking the rules already?", which reminded me how little backbone I have. As a result, I will be persevering with braised beef, even though it'll be 28 degrees tomorrow.
HOWEVER (sorry about the capitals but really, the next one is what this is all about), I have been rewarded with a magnificent pudding that involves angelica, rice pudding (made from scratch), tinned manderines and meringue. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, l give you:
This marvel (and pray that I have the requisite Pyrex dish to do it justice), can be served either hot or cold - but Marguerite seems to prefer it "chaud".
Coming soon: I go to the supermarket and pray for angelica.
7 comments:
Making braised beef in the height of summer. Sounds like a comedy of errors. I'm loving this.
I'm loving the whole concept, but I am seriously worried about your health. Are you really going to eat that dessert? The top of our heads may well blow off with the excitement of it all, but it is entirely possible you might have a blow-out in the arteries as well...
I, too, think it's a fabulous idea but am concerned about the health implications. This isn't a daily thing, is it? I also think you should be permitted to scale down quantities as much as you wish.
I remember once being served rice pudding topped with meringue, quite possibly in the 1970s. I don't remember the mandarines, which I think would have the wrong texture. I have a vague memory of extreme sweetness but in quite a pleasant way.
The thing that worries me most is the translation of 'hot puddings' to 'poudings chauds'. What were they thinking?
I am so excited I can hardly contain myself. Will you live or die? How long must I wait for the answer?
Fear not, sweet readers, for it is a weekly affair, with the odd addition here and there (e.g., I might make some biscuits tomorrow and take them to work).
The histopathologist's "area", as it were, is cardiology and/or stent research, so if the worst comes to the worst I'll get him to sharpen my Le Fourmi vegetable knife and perform a bit of ad hoc surgery.
And yes, I may reduce the quantities - for e.g. I do not need enough braised beef for 8. And also, we don't need to eat ALL the pudding.
"Pouding chaud" = welcome to Quebec....
Oooh the excitement is getting to me already...I'll bring coffee for the dessert;o)
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