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accidents do happen
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October 10th 2005
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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.
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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
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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.
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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'
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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!
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