I apologise in advance to Mrs Patten, but cannot excuse the grapes

In the night, the dark thoughts come. Why am I in Canada? Why haven't I got a pony? What am going to do when I grow up? Why aren't I going grey (on my head)? What have I done with my English cheque book, why don't pedicures last, and why does my left heel hurt so very, very much?

But all this is as nothing compared to the new dark fear that gnaws at my toes whilst the pathologist slumbers: what if Marguerite Patten is super-'on it' with the internets? What if Marguerite Patten is bored one day and decides to Google herself? What if Marguerite Patten, author of 170 cookbooks which have sold millions and millions of copies across the world, television star, advisor and friend to many British housewives during the war and after it, reads my blog and is offended?

Mrs Patten, if by any chance you are reading this (you will be my fifth reader ever!!),  I admire you very much. If I am rude about your recipes, it is not you: it is, or was, the food of the times (i.e., 1967) that we are being rude about. Your sausagey rolls are magnificent; the fruit with fish, not so. Margarine was king and garlic was not freely available anywhere when you were writing the recipes that crept onto my cards. Mrs Patten, the inevitable day will come with the pathologist plucks "Kidney Soup" out of the box. I will cook it, and I will eat it, Mrs Patten, and I will salute you with my spoon.

Interesting side fact about Maguerite Patten: the recipe cards I have are in American measures (i.e., cups), but are in French. That means that there was an entire edition made for Quebec only. I think this is quite impressive and probably quite a good indication of how famous she was. Or how terrible food was in Quebec as well in the late 60s. Maybe both.

But to business! What have we here? We have a strange evening, full of joy (sausagey rolls!), fear (sole poached for 15 minutes in white wine with grapes!), and finally confusion (a cake that does not taste as it looks).

Cooking by me, photography and commentary by the pathologist (transcribed word-for-word, as usual). Me, I speak in the italics. Here goes!!!

Roulés au jambon et au porc, aka ham and pork rolls
Imagine the most delicious sausage roll you have ever eaten, and this is what these are. I will give out the recipe if you want it. Easy if you can mince your own ham; not if you cannot. I can, because I am very fortunate. I would invent pique-nique opportunities just to eat these.

"They're delicious. What else is there to say?"





























Sole Véronique, aka Sole Veronique
It is rare that I spit food out. It is also rare that you can poach any fish in wine in a hot oven for 15 minutes without doing it serious damage. If you do that to sole under which you have tucked some grapes, you should be arrested.

"You can chew it with your tongue. It’s sort of disintegrated. How long did you leave it? 15 minutes? Let’s try it with a grape. The grapes are firmer. You can just eat the grapes. What kind of sauce is that? It feels a bit like you’re eating fish Jello but it’s actually softer than Jello. [Squelching sound] I’m enjoying my old person’s meal. My no-denture-needed …. The grapes with it are just vile. Incomprehensible. If there is one word to define this dish, it is: incomprehensible. Or, if you’re more concise, just: why?
[Starts to sing]
“Pourquoi, Vénoronique? Pourquoi tu m’as fait ça?
[I ask if this is a song of Quebec.]
No. I just made it up.

At least you didn’t put too much work in it. Once again I must empathise with the poor fish who gets taken out of his depths thousands and thousands of miles away to end up in a plate that only inspires disgust. It’s very sad for the poor sole. I wasn’t thinking about the soul soul, I was thinking about the sole. Make of that what you want.

Reminds me of my aunt’s cooking."


























Gâteau Renversé, a.k.a. upside down cake
Easy to make and what's not to like about making flowers out of dates and glacé cherries? Exactly.  Sadly, however, all was not as it seemed.

“Might be extremely dry. Has that gritty feel under the knife. Oh dear. Reminds me a bit of last week’s adventure.   It’s like there’s not enough fat or something in it.  Maybe with a lot of milk. A LOT of milk.  You cooked it upside down?  It has a nice … um… how do you say … scrubbing action on the throat. It’s like if you’ve got any phlegm in there it’ll just brush it as you swallow.

I’ve got to have some milk. It’s not far from being OK, it’s just like she forgot one thing … one missing ingredient that’s supposed to make it into a cake … it’s a collection of very dry ingredients.

Imagine if it was the thickness she made. Did you do half the recipe? [No.] Then why is hers so high? It’s a mystery, isn’t it. Maybe you could write to her. She’s still alive, isn’t she?   [I ask him why he is eating a second slice when it is so horrible.] I don’t know.  It’s like a moth to the flame.  I’m strangely attracted by its dryness. It’s like a black hole of fluid. It sucks away all fluid around it.  A dryhole.  That’s a bit dirty.  It’s my self-destructive streak. Marguerite is bringing out my suicidal tendencies.”





























When we have recovered, we will pick next week's recipes. I must confess I am looking forward to "getting down to it" with aspic. Fingers crossed!!!

Pip pip

NWM (and the Pathologist)

I try out some lines, most of which are proven to be unfunny

My loyal readers and fans will be more than aware of my ready wit, mordant turn of phrase, etc etc.   Some may describe me as "hilarious", "very funny", "droll", "mildy amusing", etc.  All this is fair and/or accurate.

But the truth is darker. The truth is this: there are some things I say once every few years (e.g. 3) in the hope that someone will find me as amusing as I find myself.

EXAMPLE ONE, first used c. 1987, i.e. the year before I went to university when everyone was on their "year orf". 

Idiot Sloane/trustafarian with crap posh kid dreads:  "So like, yah, I like, went to India to find myself".
Me: (pause in which I prepare myself for the genius about to spurt out of my mouth): "You can't have been looking very hard".

No-one laughs. I am surprised, as I think this is quite funny.  I have since used this line five times. No-one ever laughs, apart from me.

EXAMPLE TWO,  first used on Wednesday night; I have since tried it twice to no positive effect.

Me (flicking through ladies' magazine): If magazines worked, there would be no magazines.  (I laugh for five minutes, shaking head at own genius.) 
Pathologist (aka 'my husband'): Well, yes. Obviously.
Me: What do you mean, "obviously"?   I think I am very clever, and also very funny! Don't you?
Pathologist: Are you stoned?

EXAMPLE THREE

I am generally pro-therapy (more than "pro", actually), but I am not pro- those people who have had therapy and then believe they are morally and intellectually superior to 'normal' people (i.e, people who have not had therapy).

Behaviour includes:

- Being a self-satisfied arse;

- Giving out advice that isn't wanted;

- Drawing hypotheses (that are wrong), then making a "really?" face when you contradict them;

- Doing the "I know what's going on here but you don't because you are not me!" face when you are talking about for e.g. your cat or a banana you once had that wasn't very nice;

- Being impertinent;

- Saying "my therapist would have an interesting point of view about that" when you do something innocuous, e.g. eat a pork pie;

- Saying "my therapist thinks..." as if it's going to cover up the fact the person in question is about to be a show-off, e.g. "my therapist thinks I am very talented";

- Doing a "wise monkey" face and looking at their drink when they are not centre of attention for 2 minutes;

- Quoting other people as if they are best mates with them, e.g. "well of course the Dalai Lama said...";

- Believing that having "been through therapy" = excuses all kinds of ghastly behaviour on the grounds that they "know themselves and aren't going to change".

I have been exposed to more than my fair share of these preening cockmonkeys over the course of my rich and fascinating life, and at some point or another they can't help but say something like this:

Arse:  I know what I'm talking about, you know - I was in therapy for nearly fifteen years.

And I do not say, but wish I did (because in my head it is 'up there' with the magazine comment):

Me: You should ask for your money back.

In my head, this is the wittiest thing I have ever said, even though I have never said it!!!

 Maybe things are worse than I thought, and maybe I should go on that Landmark Education weekend that all those interesting people have so earnestly recommended over the years after all. Or maybe I could stick hot needles in my eyes.

Pip pip!

NWM

I join Facebook

After recent forays into Twitter, etc, I now feel confident enough to join Facebook. If you wish to be my pretend friend, you can do so by pressing on the button on the right.

So far, I'm liking it very much. There are A LOT of people on it who share my interests, and I am enjoying joining all sorts of groups and societies.
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In a way, Facebook is like Fresher's Week, but unlike Fresher's Week, if you make a friend you then do not want, you can "defriend" them rather than have them following you about for the next three years. Brilliant.

(Possibly) your friend,

NWM

I make use of room temperature dogs

"It's funny", I say to the pathologist as I balance a prune on the same slice of bread as a glacé cherry and a slice of pork, "the more disgusting the recipes are, the more I want to do it."

Yesterday we spoke of the Valentine Cake, an extraordinary thing made of margarine and Marie Rose sauce. What we did not speak of were the sandwiches that came before the cake.

There is little to do or say, other than to show you a picture of the final work and to share the pathologist's live sandwich-by-sandwich commentary. I didn't make 16 sandwiches, and I didn't make all the ones pictured on the recipe card; there were some recipes on the back of the card that weren't in the picture but so good that I had to do them (e.g. spaghetti in curried mayonnaise).

If you want to follow along, start top left, go down, then start at the top of the next row. (NB: I sit at the table with my laptop and transcribe the pathologist's reactions word-for-word. No editing, no nothing.)

Danish Open Sandwiches




Sliced egg and tomato

“Is there anything on the bread? Tomato and egg sandwich. What is there to say?”

Frankfurters and potato salad with mustard mayonnaise, crispy bacon and onion rings

“It’s definitely not small enough for a canapé… you’re just stuffing it in your mouth so you can’t be standing around chatting in a distinguished Danish style. You’re just trying to make sure it doesn’t end up on the floor. It was nice that one though. It had bacon in it.”

Diced chicken and mushroom in mayonnaise with cucumber and tomato.

“So artfully prepared… you couldn’t have this at the ambassador’s reception. Unless it’s the Albanian ambassador.  Chicken, cucumber. What’s not to like? So delicate.  [Stares at cake.] I’m just so fascinated by the cake. Is it made out of sugar?”

Cold meat with horseradish, prunes and orange

“That was just weird.  I got a big bite of orange peel.”

Chicken with gherkins and tomato

“Looks like a bunch of little eels.  Let’s see what we do can do with that.  That little baby eel family.  Chomp chomp.  I think it’s good.  It dilutes the pickle.  The bread and chicken.  Mixes it all up and makes it more palatable.  I approve of this one .”

Pork, pineapple rings, cherries and bacon

“I don’t know. Reminds me of going to a friend’s house and eating ham with pineapple on it. Which is not a happy experience. Who comes up with ideas like that I wonder? Danes? Did they have like scurvy problems, the Danes?”

Cooked spaghetti in curried mayonnaise garnished with herrings, a slice of egg and cress
 (Note: I drew the line at herrings.)

“Now this makes no sense at all. I can tell from just looking at it. A spaghetti sandwich? It’s like, what the fuck? It’s not delicious. There’s a big chunk of butter so that helped. I think she was running out of combination possibilities at that point. She was getting desperate. You can smell the desperation in this combination.”

Sliced ham, mayonnaise and mixed vegetables

“Again, the butter is the only saving grace.”

Cooked sausage and onion rings

“I could go for that being Danish. Raw onions and frankfurters. I know nothing of the Danes, but in my mind that’s what they eat all day. Gives them strengths to put umlauts over their vowels. Or crosses over their Os. Slashes. They do that. I’ve seen them do it. This is delicious. It’s like a hotdog. Well a cold dog. A room temperature dog.”

Smoked pork, cheese, tomato and parsley

“This is more civilized.  Parsley is the um … makes a repeat performance throughout the evening.  Do you remember the days when all you had to do to show a bit of class was to have a bit of parsley? Maybe you don’t. Maybe you’re too young. Nowadays it just means that you’re a family restaurant in the suburbs, but back in the 60s I’m sure it was the height of sophistication. Especially in Denmark.”

Cold beef with mustard mayonnaise, horseradish, tomato and onion

“I like that. I might even close it. Now this feels like an actual sandwich. Not a travesty of one. Why do you think they did open sandwiches like that? Is it because they were running out of bread?”

Ham stuffed with diced vegetables with mayonnaise, pineapple and cherry.

“Well. We’re down to the last one and it looks like a doozy. Fucking hell. So basically you use whatever’s left. It’s like all the foodgroups in a mouthful. It’s very bad. It’s terrible. Fruit, vegetable, meat and mayonnaise in the same mouth? It’s just wrong.  It’s just a crime against nature.  To hell with those Danes, I say.”

Coming soon: something to do with fish and fruit.

I use margarine

"It says margarine! I am not using margarine. Where is the margarine? In its own special corner marked 'margarine' under the sign that says 'Margarine'? I am not going there. It is a bad bad place. Can I use butter? No! I cannot use butter. Marguerite Patten says I must use margarine. Margarine is disgusting. Is it worse than lard or suet? Are lard and suet the same thing? Can't I use butter?"

Yes, I must use margarine, and I am not talking to myself but to my 'husband' who is in the shop with me pushing the trolley (small) and saying, "what do you MEAN, Frankfurters in a tin? Where would they BE?", like I have told him that chickens hibernate. It is endless, the margarine chat spurting out of my mouth; I am horrified by margarine for many reasons, not least that it contains unpredictable amounts of water and that, my friends, is a disaster for baking.

"Baking what?!" I hear you cry, your tiny simple little faces alive with expectation. "Why, Marguerite Patten's Valentine Cake, of course!", I reply kindly, pulling on my pipe and thrusting my hand into a packet of crisps.

"A picture speaks a thousand words", they say. The picture that I am about to show you of what happened in my kitchen earlier today does not speak a thousand words, it speaks two: 'vomit' and 'confection'.





































I have little to say in my defence, leaving instead the final word to the pathologist via the means of a new feature (introduced tonight) in which I do an exact transcript of his reactions to the things I cook as he eats them. You will like it, I think! Here goes:

"Did you do it exactly like the recipe?  For once it won’t be a big drama to throw it in the bin. The white bit’s alright. It’s the first time I ever said no to cake without any regrets. Man. What the hell is that? I mean you just made it and it tastes like it was made 3 weeks ago and left on the counter.  So you did this one verbatim? Well you know. People were made of tougher fibre in those days. Maybe eating cake was a sort of character building experience.  I thought it was going to be a delicious mocha cake, but no. I’m curious about that flesh colour, though."

Coming tomorrow: 12 Danish open sandwiches, each one accompanied by a 'live review' from the pathologist. You should be made aware that pineapple rings, pork and glacé cherries make an appearance. On the same sandwich.