Gadget Geek

WiFi and other electromagnetic radiation

Eggs cooked by phone and a microwaved Moroccan

Over the last few weeks I seem to have turned into a bit of a gadget geek. In addition to my ever slowing laptop I now have at my disposal an e-book reader, a tablet (computer not a pill) and an additional device that gives my satellite TV box the ability not only to receive the outpourings of Eutelsat 28A & Astra 1N/2A/2B but to talk to the internet via my WLAN.

All these gadgets and gizmo’s are very impressive but the truth is they all rely on one thing, and that is those invisible wriggly radio waves that are zapping around many of our homes, shops, cafés and pubs. We are talking about what is commonly referred to as WiFi. Now, to connect your chosen device to your chosen WiFi network you need to select that network from the list of available networks that your device has discovered.

My devices discovered no less than 14 wireless networks within range!

OK I live in a block of twelve flats so I shouldn't have been too surprised but it seemed to me that there is a lot of electromagnetic radiation in my life. I do have some experience of working within the radio spectrum and given the 'radhaz' precautions we had to take when working on masts and aerials and the seemingly never ending conversation on the brain addling effects of excessive mobile phone use I decided to investigate whether this could be the reason for the deteriorating quantity and quality of my little grey cells - as opposed to the drink and drugs (actually it's mainly beer, red wine and Gaviscon but that doesn't sound very rock and roll does it).

This is when I discovered how to cook an egg using two mobile phones...

A Summer Break

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Bloody Mary, giant couscous and a queue

Hello again dear reader. It may (or may not) have come to your notice that I have taken something of a summer break from the high pressure environment of blogging. I make no apologies as it has been a packed couple of months of events. Some regal, some sporting and some local.

Back in June we kicked off with the Queen's Diamond Jubilee. I'm not a hardened royalist but I do have quite a bit of respect for the institution, this despite being once charged with showing disrespect to the Royal Family (c. Silver Jubilee). This came about from an unfortunate exchange between the first lieutenant's wife, who was taking the part of Her Majesty in a rehearsal for a forthcoming royal visit, and one of my darker skinned colleagues. It was based around his grandfather serving with the East African Rifles and having black privates – it's an old joke (details on request) but it always made me laugh.

Things got off to a good sporting start shortly after the jubilee with Euro 2012. I liked the look of the England team and making it to the semifinals wasn't a bad result. Who knows if we could just kick out the curse of the penalty shoot-out (no pun intended)... As for London 2012 Olympics and Paralympics what more can be said, brilliant in every way, even I was inspired. Not so inspired as to go out and actually do something sporting. As a guy that thinks a good workout is cleaning his teeth without switching on his electric toothbrush inspiration of that sort would need to be narcotic-ally induced.

All this and then the Preston Guild! A once every twenty year celebration of the town (now city) having been granted a Guild Merchant by Henry II back in 1179. The guild merchant was a kind of monopoly run by local traders, craftsmen and of course merchants. The modern day celebrations come from the act of new members swearing publicly their allegiance to the Mayor and the Guild as apposed to modern Prestonions just swearing in public. Today it comprises of lots of events not least of which are several processions. This involves the bystander standing on the pavement waving at a constant stream of articulated lorries carrying cargoes of strangely clad, over enthusiastic adults and under enthusiastic children as they weave their way around the town (city). This traditionally also involves those that can, making  their excuses and sneaking away to the nearest pub for a 'cheeky beer'. Having been indoctrinated into this tradition by a friend and her father I quickly learnt of the cooling effects of a beer and the warming effects of a double, single malt.

But it hasn't all been partying. Over the summer months I've perfected the GOOD, discovered the BAD and witnessed the UGLY...

Imam Bayildi

What's in a name
Aubergines, olive oil, tomatoes and a good story.

Shortly before the recent Jubilee Weekend I had a meal with a couple of friends at what is fast becoming one of my favourite eating houses in town. This little gem of a place lists itself as Mediterranean but it leans heavily towards the eastern (Turkish) end. Having kicked off with a table full of dips and big basket of flat breads, two of us had gone for a main course of aubergine stuffed with seasoned mince beef and cheese. This was delicious. So much so that been in the middle of an aubergine phase (my pasta sauce of choice at the moment is aubergine and tomato) I decided to see if I could knock up something similar in my own little kitchen.

The menu called our aubergine dish 'Imam Bayildi'. But was it?

Do we have a case under the Food Description Act...

Decanting wine

A life scientific  
Research, field trials and a 'man kiss'
 

I am not a selfish man!

To prove I am not a selfish man I am about to share with you some of the findings from my latest research project and accompanying field trials or more accurately cellar trials, wine cellar trials. You see, at great personal expense, and great personal hardship I have been investigating 'decanting'.

Decanting is the process of passing a liquid from one vessel to another. In this case the liquid is wine and the vessels are the bottle it comes in and a decanter or carafe. A decanter is a container into which the wine is decanted – don't you just love definitions! A carafe is a container into which the wine can also be decanted – that's cleared that up then. As far as I can make out a decanter is up market as in 'I lease an apartment' and carafe is a little more down market as in 'I rent a flat'. Both decanters and carafes are mainly but not exclusively made of glass. The real differentiator, as far as I can see, appears to be that a decanter has a stopper and a carafe does not. Presumably if you lose the stopper to your decanter it is instantly downgraded to a carafe.

Glass vessels aside the question to be answered is 'will the wines in my cellar benefit from decanting?'

Risotto

A dependancy

Rice, Vermouth and Bone Marrow

My name is BrianR and I'm a Risottoholic.

There, I've done it. I've admitted my risotto dependency to you all, and not least to myself, and as every addict knows this is the first step to a 'cure'. You may not know (and please don't ask me how I know) but most programs to overcome addiction, dependency or other behavioural problems are based on the Twelve-Step Program created by Alcoholics Anonymous way back in the late 1930's. The problem I have is that I don't want to go through the other eleven stages, I love risotto, it's a big part of my life, and apart from adding a few inches to my evermore relaxed waistline and maybe upping my cholesterol a little it's not doing me any harm. Neither is it affecting my relationship with my family and friends, except of course being labelled a risotto bore.

Risotto has a reputation for being hard work and difficult to get right. A reputation I suspect not helped by the fact that a really good restaurant risotto is very hard to find. A risotto needs the time and undivided attention that only a top end restaurant can give. Lesser restaurants will half cook the risotto then spread it out on trays and chill until required. They then finished it off in portions with more stock to order. This is not good, it doesn't really work. The best restaurants for me know their limitations and keep risotto off the menu.

Having bemoaned the restaurant risotto, with a little practise, a little patience, the correct rice, a good stock and the strict adherence to a few well documented simple steps you can produce at home a rich, creamy, classic rice dish to seduce the gods.

Sounds a lot more complicated than it is – trust me.

JSP 404

MoD Manual of Catering Services

Curry at sea and an erotic image that I can't get out of my head.

Recently I have been thinking of a quick blog around numbers and food. I know the thought that any thought goes into these little postings may be a bit of a shock but I do sometimes put some thought into them, and even, on occasions, do research complete with note taking. Most of my initial thoughts come to me while my little grey cells are stimulated with a drop or two of red wine so I try to make notes contemporaneously using a A4 pad and a 2B pencil but as I'm sure you can imagine sometimes deciphering these the next day can be somewhat problematic.

One of the numbers that came to mind while I had the numbers and food blog idea in my head was 404. 404 is the Joint Services Publication number of the Ministry of Defence Manual of Catering Services (not the snappiest title but quite descriptive). I've known of the existence of this manual for some years but I hadn't really looked into it in any depth before.

Before now that is...

Spaghetti Aglio Olio e Peperoncino

A hangover cure

A naval victory in Rome, pizza reminiscences and a digestif with a kick.

For some years now I have been keeping a secret. A secret of such enormity that had I the slightest hint of humanity in my pathetic shameful body I would have shared it with the world as soon as I created it. I speak of nothing less dear reader than the antidote to the most debilitating self inflicted curse since Adams apple lay undisturbed on the ground fermenting before someone came along, picked it up and sucked it. OK, that may not strictly be the origin of alcohol but what we are talking here is - The Hangover.

You may be wondering why such a selfish, uncaring monster as I has now decided to go public. Well it turns out that even though I created this life reviving concoction while hunched over the hob and steadying myself with one hand on the kitchen sink tap I wasn't the first. The Italians have been making it for years, although as a hangover cure they haven't quite perfected it, but, to be fair perhaps they don't have the same incentive that I had.

Devilled Kidneys

An Offally Good Dish

A bad call by the brewery, a gentle dig at American recipes and an elegant cocktail.

In my last blog I referred to that naval breakfast treat 'Sh*t on a Raft'. It was probably no coincidence then that a couple of days later I had in my shopping trolley four lovely plump lambs kidneys, actually three and a slightly slashed one, presumably the product of the butchers apprentice. I say probably no coincidence because I am quite susceptible to suggestion, an advertisers dream, and not just targeted advertising. I have been known while watching those exceptionally long episodes of Morse to get through even more whisky than Endeavor did.

Never having made 'Sh*t on a Raft' I did a little digging in search of an original recipe. Unfortunately the only one I could find was one put forward by an ex-submariner which simply involved boiling small pieces of kidney until tender before adding Bisto or similar gravy mix. The dish I remember was small pieces of kidney in a rich translucent beef sauce, so this may or may not be the version I have in my head, or it may be just a submariners version. In fairness they did have limited facilities and supplies on submarines, especially the old diesel ones as I once found out to my embarrassment during an impromptu mid-ocean secondment.

Perhaps I should have sacrificed my slashed kidney to test the Bisto enhanced recipe (does Bisto make a translucent gravy or a cloudy one?), but I decided to put all four to the Victorian rather than the naval and go for Devilled Kidneys...

Romesco Sauce

Memories of a Spanish sauce in Portugal

A good read, a disappointing trip to the market and the demise of a pair of socks.

For one reason or another I have been neglecting my blog of late so I thought I should use this extra day to to put that right.

I've not been idle these last few weeks although I seem to have been reading more than writing. A couple of books that have particularly grabbed my attention were 'Sucking eggs: what your Granny could teach you about diet, thrift and going green' by Patricia Nicol. Although not strictly a foodie book it was fascinating to read about rationing and the absolute merger amounts of what we now consume in relatively massive quantities without a second thought – both in the food department and clothing department (even underwear). The second of these books was a re-issue I suppose you would say of 'The Gentle Art of Cookery' by Mrs. C.F. Leyel and Miss Olga Hartley . First published between the wars (c1921, I think), now re-published as one of a new series 'Classic Voices in Food' by Quadrille. I know you shouldn't judge a book by its cover but even before you open this beauty you know by its green mock leather cover with silver embossed artwork and its red edged pages it's going to be a keeper. I have lots of stuff earmarked to try from this book and will certainly be searching out other books in this series.

However, enough of that, I'm not a book critic or any other type of critic come to that, although I can be gently critical at times. The point I am trying to get to in my own round about way is that it was a recipe in another book, this one about Spanish cooking, that caught my eye and sent me on my latest mission. The recipe in question was for 'Chicken with Romesco Sauce'. It was the Romesco Sauce bit that caught my eye as I first came across this classic Spanish sauce some years ago in a small bar/restaurant in Portugal. Just to add further confusion the bar was owned and run by a British couple and the chef was German (I may have made that last bit up but she defiantly wasn't Spanish, Portuguese or British – in fact she may have been a he).

This then is the story of my recent saucy odyssey.

Pesto

It's not what you do, it's the way you do it
A confession or two, garlic breath and an old fashioned salad tea.

The twelfth day of Christmas has been and gone. The decorations have been stashed away for another year and the lounge is looking bare.

To be honest I'm not really into trimming up so apart from the Christmas cards and the paper tree that was dangling from the window frame not much has changed. It's not that I'm a misery but I try to be out more than in so what's the point, besides it gives any seasonal visitors the chance to tut, raise their eyebrows and look to the heavens, which seems to me quite appropriate for the season.

Speaking of going out, shortly after the new year I did meet up one evening for a meal with a couple of great friends from the latter years of the employed phase of my life. Fantastic company, terrible meal but to be honest I was in the clutches of flu, the like of which only attacks the male so I can't be too judgemental. During the course of the evening pesto was mentioned. I don't think it developed into a conversation but it did make me reflect that I had been quite pesto'd over the holidays – stop that tutting and eyebrow thing, it's not a euphemism, although, in truth, the end of a couple of evenings are somewhat 'misty'!