The good thing about my trip to Waitrose was that my lamb purchase is doing triple almost quadruple duty. Dinner tonight was Lamb and Date Tagine, a recipe by Nigella from my recommendation Nigella Christmas. It’s almost a standard fayre dish in our house now. Pete pinches himself sometimes I think when he is eating his dinner, it’s been a leap from tuna pasta and jacket potatoes to slow cooked chile con carne and burritos. Although in fairness his lack of culinary skills is compensated by his remarkable capabilities within the home. Rewiring, plastering, plumbing, construction, tiling to name a few. Comparably, the ability to bake a scone seems to have limited usefulness as a result.
So we have almost the same quantity of tagine left over than was ate, so there is tomorrows post work and gym supper sorted. And there is another kilo of lamb to be frozen so that will do for a stew later on. And the bones are currently simmering in a pot with carrots, onions, garlic, Rosemary and thyme to make a stock. Two and half litres of it. Honestly it’s fabulous. I’ve never made stock before. If it turns out to be crap it will really irritate the heck out of me seeing as I’m so excited about it. It’s all I can do to stop myself videoing it on my phone.
The other culinary attempt today has not turned out very successfully. My Victoria Sandwich failed really to rise, lord knows why. I’m not sure the Kenwood Chef was suitable for this task, it was a recipe taken from Delia Online and she seemed to recommend hand whisks and an assortment of apparatus so vast that I could barely understand who would own so many or want to utilise such an army to make one cake. Seriously it went from wooden spoon to rubber spatula to metal spoon back to wooden spoon with such speed I think I’d need a kitchen porter if I did it her way. I have attempted to disguise the lack of height by putting fresh raspberries in the middle like a set of joists acting as stilts to keep the top layer of sponge tall and proud. Sadly it’s evident that it’s a sorry looking sandwich even to an untrained and ever appreciative eye like Pete’s. But I’m sure it will taste ok. With half a jar of lemon curd in the middle, how could it fail?
The only issue now is that I’m so satisfied from a day of domestic duty that I could turn in now, at 8.30pm. But this stock is a four hour labour of love due for completion at 10pm. I will nobly have to sacrifice an early night in my quest for Ina-like perfection. How else will I be able to nod along when she states for the record that good homemade stock makes all the difference?
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