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...

THE GOOD - The story of the good starts with the search for what to do with left over celery. I'm sure I can't be the only person that buys a bunch of celery, use half a dozen sticks then ends up with the remainder turning limp. I can't think of anything to do with a limp stick of celery although from what I have been told Christian Grey would be able to come up with one or two. The point is, in the search to use as much as possible of my bunch of celery I came across an article that described drying the leaves and mixing them with salt to make a celery seasoning. I purposely avoid using the term celery salt as this is apparently a mix of celery seeds and salt.

For my celery seasoning I simply pick the leaves from the stalks, both the green outer ones and the yellow inner ones. These leaves I place on a tea towel on a oven try and place in a just warm oven. When the leaves have dried out completely I rub them through a sieve and mix with equal amounts of sea salt flakes. This mix will keep in an airtight jar almost indefinitely or at least until you are ready to sprinkle it on to some meat, poultry or fish. However for me celery and salt can't help but provoke thoughts of Bloody Mary. Not the legendary ghost that is said to appear in the mirror if you call her name three times but the even more legendary tomato juice based cocktail.

As with all things concocted from a mix of ingredients there are many and varied versions available, the Bloody Mary is no exception. Nigel Slater, and it must be said many others add horseradish and sherry, some a whole allotment of spices and herbs, others different types of alcohol. For me this all seems a bit OTT, so back to basics.

The origin of the Bloody Mary is not clear but one name that appears more than others is Fernand Petiot. Some accounts have him creating it in 1921 while working at the New York Bar in Paris. However Petiot himself said in an interview with the New Yorker magazine in 1964, “I initiated the Bloody Mary of today, Jessel (comedian George Jessel who frequented New York's 21 Club ) said he created it, but it was really nothing but vodka and tomato juice when I took it over”. Petiot went on to describe the way he mixed his Bloody Mary, “I cover the bottom of the shaker with four large dashes of salt, two dashes of black pepper, two dashes of cayenne pepper, and a layer of Worcestershire sauce; I then add a dash of lemon juice and some cracked ice, put in two ounces of vodka and two ounces of thick tomato juice, shake, strain, and pour”. This seems as good a place as any to start my testing and tasting.

Without boring you to death with detail, after several cartons of tomato juice and copious amounts of Vodka my current preferred mix is as follows.

Half fill a cocktail shaker, mine is apparently a Cobbler Shaker but that's not important. Half fill whatever you are using with cracked ice (aka bashed ice cubes). Add a measure of vodka and four measures of the best (thickest) tomato juice you can get hold of. I know that's a lot more than the one to one or one to two ratios recommended by most but I don't like my Bloody Mary too strong, it is after all a lunchtime cocktail – not that I condone lunchtime drinking in any form you understand (short delay while I get my tongue out of my cheek). Next a good dash or two of Worcestershire sauce, a quick squeeze of lemon juice and a few drops of  Tabasco. I have tried using cayenne but much prefer the Tabasco. I like enough just to make my lips tingle. Season with a large pinch of the celery seasoning and a grind of black pepper and as Petiot said shake, strain, and pour. If you have one of those little yellow inner sticks of celery plonk one in the glass, they are great for stirring and sucking. If you are using a straw sprinkle a little more of the celery seasoning on top. If you are drinking straight from the glass it is probably best not to add that final flourish, bits of celery leaves stuck to your teeth is not a good look even if everyone around you are slowly getting sloshed (do people still say that or am I showing my age).

THE BAD – I love tagines! I love the pots and I love the spicy, fruity Moroccan stews that are cooked in them. So when I came across a new recipe for lamb tagine with preserved lemons and prunes I couldn't wait to get to the shops for the necessary bits and bobs. I like to serve my tagine on a bed of rice or more authentically couscous and it was while searching for a packet of couscous I came across a packet of 'Giant couscous'. Thinking this would be like normal couscous only larger, as the name suggests, I decided to give it a try. Big mistake!

Giant couscous or Israeli couscous is nothing like couscous. Giant couscous is, or should that be 'are', pearl-like grains more similar in texture to the old school milk pudding 'favourites' sago or tapioca. I don't think that my school dinner experiences have influenced my dislike for this product, indeed the school dinners at my school were pretty good. In fact one of the 'cooks' was a brilliant pastry chef who made apple pie to fight for, which we did, often, especially it there weren't enough little cubes of cheese that she used to sprinkle on top to go round.

No, no-mater how I cook it giant couscous ends up as semi-translucent bubbles of tastelessness, with a look of small frog-spawn, but without the black spot in the middle. Disgusting, YUK!

THE UGLY – No, not celeriac, although that must be ugliest root to ever grace the veg rack. No the ugly in this case is something I saw during the summer.

Over a weekend in early summer one of the main thoroughfares in town (city) was given over to what was advertised as a Lancashire Market. All very nice, stalls of local goods and produce as you would expect but the thing that caught my attention was a enormous queue down the middle of the temporarily pedestrianised street. Given that the average women's shoe size is apparently a size 7 (and most of the people in the queue were women) and a size 7 equates to a 9.25inch foot, I would estimate it as a queue in the region of 527 and a half people.

So what was this event or product all these people were willing to queue for. It turns out it was boxes of freebies being distributed by our local American style doughnut store. I am no killjoy and indeed enjoy a occasional Chocolate Kreme from this particular shop myself, but the sight of so many pear-shaped, weeble-esque Prestonians mainly clad in plucked leggings and swamped in extra-large tee-shirts emblazoned with amusing slogans referring to their availability was not pretty.

OK, perhaps ugly is too strong a word, perhaps I'm just getting old and grumpy, or perhaps I was just miffed at having to queue for so long... Sorry Preston!

Well, I'm off to look into the bedroom mirror now and call Nigella three times. You never know. It's worth a try!