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  • food accident #1
  • the accidental foodie
  • the notorious cauliflower pasta incident
  • a history of clumsy cuisine

  • accidents do happen October 10th 2005

    Greetings!

    Don't know about you, but my life has been as sharply defined by my accidents as it has by anything deliberate that I've tried to accomplish.

    After slaving through three years studying classical Greek and Roman art and architecture, I walked into the British Museum, expecting to start my illustrious career in archaeology (might I add that my visit was entirely unsolicited).

    My reception was about as damp and gloomy as a London sky in December, which is exactly what I faced on my way out.

    Promptly deciding that all of the good stuff had already been dug up, I ducked into a Gap store and asked about some Christmas work. They hired me on the spot and I embarked upon a career in retail which has thus far spanned 4 continents.

    Similarly, cracking a tooth on an olive at a party (and wiping out my savings on the resulting root canal) put an end to my plans for a European vacation. Which meant that I was moping around the house to receive a call asking me to come and work in the USA.

    You just never know what lies around the corner.

    Sometimes the banana skins that life throws our way turn out to be humbling little intercourses with destiny.



    food accident #1
    a cautionary tale for anyone cooking in someone else's kitchen

    Even the messiest cooks have a certain order about them.

    No matter how much chaos they create, they know (instinctively) that the cling film is in the third draw down, the tongs are to the left of the stove and the sugar is in the glass jar next to the kettle.

    Take that person and drop them into their mother-in- law's kitchen. A situation where every move is scrutinised. Every mouthful a victory won.

    So imagine if you rolled the perfect pie crust.

    Sliced the best apples.

    Spiced them to perfection.

    Reached into that glass jar by the kettle and sprinkled a handful of sugar over those tart little crescents.

    Crimped the pastry artfully atop.

    Baked it golden crisp.

    There you have it; the best apple pie that you've ever made.

    You serve the first slice to your father-in-law.

    You've already relaxed. It's a slam-dunk as far as you're concerned.

    Imagine the horror when he spits the pie out and screams to his wife to fetch him some water!

    Noticing the faintest smile waltz across her face as she gets up from the table, you grab the pie; what went wrong?

    Ugh! it tastes like a sea creature. That glass jar by the kettle. Salt, not sugar. My friend, Cindy and I were laughing over this last night. A similar thing has happened to both of us. Take nothing for granted when cooking in someone else's kitchen! In my case, it wasn't an apple pie, but my apricot upside-down cake. click on the pic if you want the sweet version of the recipe


    the accidental foodie

    The inspiration for this newsletter arrived in the mail last week.

    It was from my friend, Neale Whitaker. It was his book, 'The Accidental Foodie'

    Curiously, it's flawless!

    In fact, it's bloody gorgeous.

    Neale has, at different points, been the editor of Delicious, Vogue Entertaining and Travel and Food Illustrated. This book describes how he stumbled and fell into his career as a food editor, and each chapter is devoted to the people who made his fall so wonderful.

    Maggie Beer, Nigel Slater, Jamie Oliver, Stephanie Alexander, Bill Granger, Joan Campbell (I could go on)

    The recipes that these cooks and chefs all contribute make this book the happiest accident I've ever read.

    Of course, having a food editor as a friend means that he is on my shoulder every time I click 'send' on my newsletter and then (only then, it seems) I notice every typo. Hitherto acting all coy and bashful they keep their backs turned. Then as soon as the issue mails, I open it up and they all jump out and say, 'Surprise!'

    It is Neale's voice I hear echoing in my skull, urging me to take more care.

    I do have to thank him for all of his advice, input and encouragement on my site and these newsletters. And I happen to be delighted with his book.

    You lucky folks in Australia and the UK can pick up a copy at any book store, or order it online. For those of us here in the USA, it can be ordered from Amazon.co.uk

    Click on the pic to go there and read a little about the book.


    the notorious cauliflower pasta incident
    it only takes one ingredient to spoil the whole night!

    There is something so redeeming about other people's mistakes, isn't there?

    My buddy, James, and I used to cook and swap recipes, music and so forth. We'd meet at the market on a chilly Saturday morning, buy up, get chopping, see what happened; feed the gang.

    We worked together. Alongside us was a gorgeous blonde, Tracy. Loads of fun.

    Tracy had a knack for futzing the one word in a sentence that would screw up the meaning and, in the process, turn it into a whole new landscape.

    Example: I am a big Natalie Merchant fan. Had been raving about her music for ages. Tracy finally got around to hunting down her cd. She called me from the record store,' I can't find that cd you were talking about. you know, that girl with the 1000 mechanics'

    Anyway, James gave me a recipe for a really fast, easy pasta. Still a favourite with me. Comes together in the time it takes for the pasta to cook.

    Heat: a salted pot of water for the pasta.

    Chop: an entire head of cauliflower. Dice it roughly into small cubes. Seed and dice 1-2 small chilies and 2-3 cloves of garlic.

    Heat: 3-4 tablespoons of olive oil in a skillet about the same time that you put the pasta into the water (penne works for me, it's your choice).

    Fry: the garlic and chili. Let them almost go brown, then toss in the diced cauliflower. Season with salt and pepper. Move it all around a bit and let it sautee for 4-5 minutes.

    Pour: 1 small can of beef consomme (10oz/ 300g-ish) and 1 can tomatoes. Break the tomatoes up a bit with your spatula, let it all simmer and reduce a bit. About 3 minutes before the pasta is done, add 1 cup of cream, lower the heat.

    Drain: the pasta, toss the sauce and pasta together. Serve in big bowls with lashings of parmesan and hot, crusty bread.

    Easy, huh?

    So imagine James' surprise when Tracy showed up for work looking worried and a little green. 'James, I don't know what went wrong, I made your pasta last night and I nearly hospitalised everyone with flatulance! I don't know what happened. I did everything you said'

    'I chopped up the entire cabbage'


    a history of clumsy cuisine

    When you think about it, the entire art of cooking is really a history of accidents and mistakes

    Who was the clumsy cave-man who stumbled in from the hunt, tripped, dropped his kill into the fire and subsequently enjoyed the world's first steak?

    Who was the git who managed to brulee his creme? I mean, how do you accidentally set fire to custard?

    I'd love to meet the bright spark who mixed flour with baking soda.

    How on earth did anyone stumble across the precise formula for the perfect puff pastry, or hollandaise?

    Of course, some accidents remain exactly that: pop candy, haggis, junket, aspic, ambrosia. These are all (arguably) unrectified experiments set loose from someone's kitchen.

    And what about you?

    What are some of the lop-sided leviathans that have escaped from your kitchen?

    Drop me an e-mail and let me know. I'll put a page up on the site listing (anonymously, if desired) the most unfortunate dishes that you've ever inflicted upon yourself, your friends or your family

    Click on the pic to the right to send me an e-mail or just send to mannix@thelovebite.com

    Remember, misery loves company!

    Thanks,
    Unlike the salty apple pie that Cindy served up one Thanksgiving, my easy spiced apple pie seems to have been a hit. It got nearly as much fan mail as Coco (as much for the ease as for the taste).

    Thanks to everyone who dropped a line about it. And also to everyone who watched the TV spot last Thursday.

    It is only when an anniversary comes along that we really realise how far we have travelled. I dusted off last year's Halloween newsletter and noticed how much my subscription list has grown over a year. I'm going to send it out next week as most of you have joined in the interim and never saw it.

    After that I'm going to do some sacrilegious things with s'mores

    till then, let the love flow!

    mannix

    mannix@thelovebite.com

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