Lunch of random leftovers

Cauliflower, a little rice, mixed together and baked with an egg and cheese. Something between a gratin and a strange pizza on a plate, I suppose.

Caribbean style fish curry with plantain

I've never cooked Caribbean food, in fact I've haven't even eaten much of it. So I have to begin with the proviso that I am most definitely no expert.

So, that said, this meal started with the plantain. I've never cooked that before, either, but I'm always looking to try new things, and plantain sounds like quite a good sort of carb - high in starch and low in fructose. So I planned to fry it, sliced, in coconut oil. I thought I'd do some sort of curry to go with it, and given the plantain, I thought it would be appropriate to make it a Caribbean-style curry. So I after a few look-ups I made up a sort of jerk seasoning mix - cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg, chilli, thyme - and used this for a curry base with onions, coconut and tomato paste, in which I cooked some white fish.

I can't say how authentic this was. I think it was a bit too sweet; I should have used allspice, but I didn't have any. Perhaps a bit more chilli would have helped, too. All the same, it was pretty good.

Sauerkraut

Real sauerkraut is not just pickled cabbage, it's fermented cabbage. That probably sounds a bit unpleasant if you're not used to the idea of traditional foods, but it's actually how all pickles were made, in days gone by. Rather than pickling in vinegar, the fermentation process produces lactic acid, which then does the pickling for you instead of the acetic acid, or vinegar.

Homemade sauerkraut isn't much like the stuff you buy at the supermarket. That may not have been fermented at all, and if it was it's been subsequently heated in the packaging process. That doesn't just affect the texture and flavour (it cooks the cabbage, and sauerkraut should be crunchy), it kills the lactobacilli. Yes, traditional sauerkraut is also a free probiotic!

All you need is cabbage, salt and a big glass jar. Plus flavourings - caraway and juniper are traditional, but you can also use fennel or coriander seed, black pepper, even chilli. I used red cabbage, rather than white, simply because it looks pretty. Simply shred the cabbage, mix it with plenty of salt (three tablespoons per 5 pounds of cabbage is typical) and the flavourings, and then into the jar. Press it all down firmly. For the first day or two, check it regularly. If enough liquid to come above the level of the cabbage hasn't emerged by then, top it up with water and a bit more salt. It's important to use boiled (and cooled) or filtered water for this, to remove the chlorine - otherwise you'll kill those lactobacilli.

Then you just leave it for a couple of weeks at room temperature. After that it's ready. Store it in the fridge or somewhere cool. It keeps for ages - I've eaten a batch that was at least eighteen months old and it was just fine.

Breakfast: eggs

My favourite thing to have for breakfast at the moment is still custard. I've been refining the recipe for that, but I don't have it every day. Eggs usually feature in some form. Today I baked a large field mushroom with butter and some frozen spinach, plopped in a couple of eggs, and back in the oven for a couple of minutes with a little cheese on top.

Shin of beef

Shin of beef; another cut that fell out of favour because it needs a bit of care in the cooking. Or at least, not so much care as time: it's tough because it's from the leg of the animal, and so has a lot of fibrous connective tissue along with the meat. If it was cooked quickly, it would be distinctly challenging to eat - you'd wear your jaws out gnawing on gristle. But long slow braising breaks down the tough bits and leaves tender meat, rich gelatinous gravy and incredible flavour. Before I'd cooked it I'd heard talk of the great flavour and assumed that might mean 'gruesomely strong flavour' but I was wrong. It is a strong flavour, but a richly beefy and savoury one.

The shin was in one piece. I browned it, put it to rest while I browned some onions and field mushrooms, deglazed with red wine and the last of the gravy from last week's brisket, some rosemary and bay, and the whole thing braised all day in a low oven. It was delicious.

By the way, I do a lot of slow braises. It's a very convenient way to cook - you can get most of the preparation done first thing in the morning, stick it in the oven and forget about it until you want to eat. And it helps you get the best from meat, especially the cheaper cuts. I'm lucky enough to have a (fuel-efficient) Aga-type range cooker. That works very well for the type of cooking I do, but it's by no means essential. You could set a regular oven to around 80-100C (about 175-200F) for a very slow braise, or leave the pot on the hob on a very low flame - or better yet, in terms of fuel economy and convenience, use a slow cooker/crockpot. I'd certainly invest in one if I didn't have a range cooker.

Chocolate prune cake

When I was a child, my aunt used to make a pudding called 'sticky prune cake'. It was always greeted rapturously, not least because we children promptly rechristened it 'stinky poo cake'. A sugar high combined with lavatorial humour; what more could one wish for as a pre-teen?

The combination of chocolate and prunes was a rich and delicious one, scatological references aside. I felt nostalgic and so set about reinventing it; this version is a basic almond sponge (beaten egg whites provide the lift that in a regular sponge is created by baking powder and gluten), melted chocolate instead of butter, and chopped prunes. Moist and brownie-like. And still relatively low carb; less than 10g for a medium slice (and about 15g fat and 6g protein).

Lard

The final installment of the gammon hock: the thick outer layer of fat and skin baked to render the lard, a good three or four ounces of it.








What remains is pork scratchings. Guaranteed to break the ice at parties.