7 Reasons

Tag: cookery

  • It’s That SPAM Again

    It’s That SPAM Again

    7 Reasons To Borrow One Of The 7 Reasons Team

    It’s Sunday today, so we’ve taken our traditional day away from the reasoning-mine and, as they are often wont to do, our thoughts have turned to food. Now, some time back we brought you what we considered to be the ultimate SPAM recipe – Planked SPAM – but now we’ve unearthed something that has easily trumped Planked SPAM and knocked it into a cocked hat.  Whatever that means.  Brace yourself!  It’s…

    A SPAM advert with a recipe for SPAM and baked beans

    Yes, it’s SPAM ‘n’ Beans which is, apparently, exactly right for Saturday night (which is rather a shame as I took my wife for cocktails and to a really good concert in Northern Europe’s largest Gothic Cathedral last night (if only I’d seen this first)). It seems delightfully simple to cook, consisting as it does of two ingredients; SPAM and baked beans.  Simply place slices of SPAM in baked beans and cook them on the hob, then serve in some sort of dirty brown pot with congealed sauce oozing over the side.  Who wouldn’t be overjoyed to be served this?  It seems that the simplest recipes are often the most delicious.*

     

    *Sadly I’m the member of the 7 Reasons team that doesn’t eat meat and – as SPAM is a distant relative of meat – I can’t try it myself.  Any readers care to give it a go?**

    **7 Reasons will be back tomorrow, without any tummy trouble whatsoever.

     

  • Russian Roulette Sunday: It’s Cake!

    Russian Roulette Sunday: It’s Cake!

    Hello 7 Reasons readers!  It’s Marc here and today, dear readers, we would like you to make a cake.  This cake.

    It’s Oxfam’s Easy Lime and Ginger Cheesecake, the recipe for which comes from my local Oxfam Bookshop’s brilliant blog .  The recipe calls for the use of  Fairtrade Stem Ginger Cookies and, when you go to your nearest Oxfam shop to buy them, you’ll be giving money to a worthwhile cause.  That’s right readers, by making and eating an ethically sourced cheesecake (unless you buy mascarpone sourced from warmongering cheesemongers) you’ll be helping a good cause in an ethical way.  In fact, if we can all make and eat enough cheesecake, we can probably save the world, and I’ll be trying very hard.  Here’s the achingly simple recipe as published by Oxfam Books, Petergate York:

     

    Easy Lime and Ginger Cheesecake

    • Serves 4
    • Prep time: 15 min
    • Chilling time: 30 min
    • Basically, in 45 minutes you’re in business.

    Ingredients

    • 200g pack of Fairtrade stem ginger cookies, crushed
    • 50g butter, melted
    • 500g mascarpone cheese (they usually come in 250g tubs, so get two of these)
    • 40g icing sugar, sifted
    • Finely grated zest and juice of two limes

    Method

    1.  Mix together the crushed biscuits and melted butter (I also like to add a bit of sugar to my cheesecake bases to make them a bit jazzier) and press into the bottom of an 18cm (7inch) spring-sided or loose-bottomed cake tin.

    2.  Place the mascarpone cheese, icing sugar, lime zest and juice in a bowl and beat together. Spread this mixture over the biscuit base.

    3.  Put it in the fridge and chill for 30 min! That’s really it.

    That’s the entire recipe.  It’s basically spreading cheese on biscuits and it’s so simple that absolutelyanyone should be able to make it.   And now we’re going to demonstrate that even people with no food preparation skills, knowledge or aptitude can follow this recipe.  I’m going to hand you over to my writing partner: A man whose culinary education began and ended with learning how to boil water for tea:  A man who – before he moved to Kent – was known as The Fulham Poisoner: A man whose litany of culinary disasters includes failing at defrosting a chicken and the hospitalisation of a flatmate*.  He’s going to make a cheesecake himself and feed it to his fiancé Claire – a renowned and accomplished maker of cakes – who will judge it on appearance, texture and taste (should she survive).  Here’s Jon.

    “It was only when I was standing in the queue that I realised I had been well and truly duped. The idea of making a cheesecake and then eating it had originally sounded like a good idea, which is why I had agreed. Marc had, after all, said all it required was a spare half hour. In my book, that’s a fair exchange for cake. But as I stood there I realised it had already been twenty-five since I had left home and I hadn’t even purchased the ingredients. There was no way I could make a cheesecake in five minutes. Not there. And then I got to the till. Which is when I realised this idea was also going to cost me money. Just short of £5 in fact. That’s a lot to spend just to have something to write about. I couldn’t help but think if I had managed the past year and a half writing without having to pay for the privilege, why did this have to change? I trudged home.

    Having spread the ingredients in front of me and read the recipe, I realised this was the exact same cheesecake that Claire makes. And she makes it very well. Brilliant. So I’ve had to walk all the way the shops, spend the best part of a fiver on ingredients and now I am challenging my future wife by making one of her specialities. Perturbed, I carried on. Twenty minutes later I was left staring at the following creation:

    Making it was something of a doddle. What was not a doddle was the washing up. I don’t know how often you zest a lime, but cleaning the zesting part of the grater is quite possibly a harder job than watching England play cricket. Still, an hour later I was done. I also had lime poisoning from licking the bowl.

    The next part of this project – and that is very much what it had become – was to get Claire to profer her opinion. These are the results of the Claire survey.

    On Appearance: “That looks nice.”

    On Texture: “It’s nice.”

    On Taste: “That was very nice”.

    So there we have it. I make nice cheesecakes. I am sure your Sunday just got a whole lot better with that news.”

    *Which he denies.**

    **Falsely.

    ***As Oxfam Books, Petergate York would (and actually did) tell you themselves, remember the whole point of this recipe is that it is a Fairtrade recipe.  So help the global community during this Fairtrade Fortnight (and after) by buying Fairtrade goods as much as you can.

    the fairtrade fortnight logo

     

  • Russian Roulette Sunday: A Recipe

    Russian Roulette Sunday: A Recipe

    Hi, Marc here.  It’s Sunday and half of the 7 Reasons team is unwell.  Sadly, its the half that’s writing today’s post; so I’m sorry if you’ve been clicking refresh on the homepage for the last few hours waiting expectantly for this to appear.  Anyway, here it is.

    Some wine, mulling.
    A glass of mulled wine contains several of your five a day. Probably.

    We’ve brought you recipes before of course.  I’ve given you a recipe for SPAM on a plank, and Jon’s shown you how to remove something from the freezer.  Badly.  But it occurred to me that we’ve never given you a recipe for something you might conceivably like to consume.  And it’s the time of year for it, so here’s my epic recipe for mulled wine that I’ve been inflicting on house-guests every winter since…well…before we had a house.  Or guests.  Anyway, here are the ingredients that you will need:

    2 Bottles of red wine: It doesn’t matter how many people that you are going to give mulled wine too, the correct quantity is always two bottles.  Don’t just use the cheapest wine that you can find as, if you do, your mulled-wine will be mulled-cheap-wine, and no one will like it.  You don’t need to spend very much though, an inexpensive Aussie Shiraz-Cabernet will have enough strong fruit notes and body to support the ingredients, or a cheap Tempranillo.  Just don’t use anything too light of body like a Pinot Noir or a Beaujolais, as it will be overpowered by the other ingredients.

    2 Lemons (quartered).

    2 Oranges (quartered).

    4 Cloves.

    5 Tablespoons of honey.

    1 Cinnamon stick.

    2 Teaspoons of ground ginger.

    Put all of the ingredients into a pan.  Put the pan on the hob.  Turn the hob on (to a low heat).  Stir constantly until the mulled-wine is near boiling point but importantly DO NOT LET THE MULLED-WINE BOIL!  When it boils the alcohol escapes, and you need that in order to suffer your house-guests, (or they will need it to suffer you, in my case).  While it is warming, taste frequently and add any random thing you can think of to improve the flavour.  Last New Year’s Eve, I added a quartered and squeezed satsuma, half a cup of brandy, half a cup of triple sec, a big splash of orange juice and a tsunami of dark rum*.  All of these things work very well in it.  When everything’s in and it’s near boiling point turn the hob off and ladle your mulled-wine into cups, mugs or glasses (glasses without handles will be too hot to hold so only give those to guests you dislike).  You may then drink the mulled-wine.  And as you’re the person that made the delicious, warming, tasty beverage that they enjoyed so, everyone will briefly love you and will happily tolerate you for the remainder of the evening.

    Right, I’m off to mull my way back to health.  7 Reasons will be back tomorrow with seven reasons…for something.

    *Several hours after drinking this mulled-wine when we were cracking open the Champagne, we all realised that we were really quite drunk, and were surprised because we’d only consumed a bit of mulled-wine and three or four beers over the course of the evening.  I think I’ve just solved the mystery.

  • Russian Roulette Sunday: A Recipe

    Russian Roulette Sunday: A Recipe

    It’s Russian Roulette Sunday again (and ordinary Sunday too) and we’ve realised something:  We’ve never given our readers a recipe before.  We’ve requested them when under pressure; we’ve offered general lifestyle advice on how to do food correctly; and on how food should be consumed, but we’ve never been specific about how to prepare it.  Until now.

    This isn’t our own recipe, it’s one that we stumbled across on the internet while doing something else.  But it’s safe to say that we were amazed by it.  Flabbergasted.  Dumbfounded.  It’s a perfectly genuine recipe that features in an advert for the main ingredient and we haven’t in any way made it up.

    In the past, we may have created and altered posters and passed them off as genuine, but we did that because we didn’t think that anyone would believe us, and we certainly didn’t imagine that thousands of people around the world would download those posters, presumably to use in essays and school projects.  In fact, we feel fairly confident that, as World War II recedes further into history, and internet content becomes ever-more readily-accepted, those posters will come to be seen as genuine, and we – in our usual hapless manner – will have inadvertently caused a revision of history.  We’re actually dreading the day that one of our posters turns up in a newspaper, or a book.  Anyway, we’ve learned our lesson, and this poster is categorically not one of our creations.

    You’re probably feeling a little peckish by now so, Ladies and Gentlemen, discerning readers of 7 Reasons (.org), we present to you, without any further ado…Planked SPAM.

    An advert (ad, advertisment) for SPAM with a recipe for Planked SPAM

    Now, to some people, a meal consisting of SPAM on a plank might seem a little unconventional or unappetising, but rest assured:  When you unveil this culinary master-stroke with a flourish, it will be “…greeted with cheers” by your jubilant dinner-guests.  The advert says so, so it must be true.  We’re not sure what wood the plank should be made from, though pine would probably be nice and fragrant, and less tough than oak.  But you can experiment with your own planks, we wouldn’t want to ruin the fun.  Let us know how you get on.