Pork Chop For Wurzels Fans

No pink bits here

I haven't blogged for ages, and my Dad noticed and took the trouble to tell me that I hadn't done anything since the pizza post in September, so I thought I'd better pull my finger out. Especially since I have been cooking lots recently. I got a puppy and got married, both pretty time consuming past times, but now the wedding is over and I can turn by back on my puppy for more than 0.158 seconds before something terrible happens, I'm back, cooking more, and will try and blog more often. For selfish reasons really, it's easier to google a recipe on my blog than find the recipe book or remember how to make something. But I hope you can make good use of it too. 

This recipe, pork chops braised in cider, is somewhat perfect for the chilly weather we've been having recently (HELLO! IT IS FEBRUARY!) and is far easier than cooking a pork chop quickly, to perfection. Done quickly and perfectly it is a delight to behold, but all too easy to over-cook to the texture of a flip flop, or under-cook, in search of juicyness and serve up raw. We have an on-going hilaaarious joke in my house that I can't cook a pork chop, EVERY time I cook one for the Husband (that still feels so weird) there are pink raw bits and he won't listen to me when I tell him that all the fancy restaurants cook it slightly pink these days, I just get cries of 'But it's bleeeding'. Whatever.

Anyway, no danger of that here, the pork is slowly braised to forkable (is that a word?) softness, with a gorgeous cider sauce, just the right balance of sweet and tangy.

Feeds 2. Season two pork chops and brown really well in a little olive oil in a  casserole dish that fits them fairly snugly. Remove the chops, set aside, and soften a small sliced onion, adding more oil if you need it. Don't burn. Add a chopped clove of garlic after 5 minutes and after that has had a minute to cook put the pork back in and pour in approx 200ml of cider. I use Wild Wood, best cider ever, but it sometimes makes me scrimp on the cider in the recipe because I like to drink most of it. Add a good splash of water, give it a stir, and simmer on a low heat with lid on for about 45 minutes, turning the chops over half way. At this point the pork should be really soft, if not cook a little longer. If you have too much sauce then just quickly bubble on a higher heat for a bit. Add a big blob of creme fraiche and check seasoning, sprinkling with a little chopped parsley to lift it a bit. Perfect with mash, or wet polenta as pictured (easier than mash and no peeling, wooo!).

By this point you will almost definitely be slightly marinaded in cider as you had to do something productive while the pork cooked right? 

'Nduja Linguine - Pasta Sauce for grown-ups

The day I discovered 'nduja (en-doo-ya) was a very happy day indeed. There was a stage when every food writer/journo/blogger was banging on about it so I thought it's probably worth a try. It was worth many tries and I implore you to give it a go. 'Nduja is a spicy, spreadable sausage from Calabria, Italy, and it is made with potentially undesirable parts of a pig's head with a firey whack of chilli. You can buy it in chunks, wrapped in its casing,  (see left) and you can melt chunks of it in purpose made clay erm, melting devices, you can stuff rolled pork belly with it, make scotch eggs with it (I will be soon,) or you can do as I have done here, and very simply melt it in a pan and toss through some pasta. The flavour is unique and really quite punchy, a little goes quite a way.

Feeds one: This is a quick dish so start by getting your pasta on the boil, I like to use linguine, something about how it feels on my toungue, ooh err, I just love it, but use what you have. Gently fry half a finely chopped onion and a small minced clove of garlic in a little olive oil, in a medium saucepan and cook until nice and soft. Break off a thumb sized piece of 'nduja and push it round until it have broken up and melted, leaving you with vibrant red oil and tiny nuggets of pork. Drain the pasta when al dente and add to the 'nduja pan along with a handful of chopped flat leaf parsley, I like the freshness of it, although it's not essential. Mix the pasta and sauce really well and flop it into a bowl, topping with plenty of grated parmesan. In 8 or 9 minutes you have a bowl of pasta to be proud of, so twirl away and don't worry about the fact you're eating pig's head. 

And so it begins...2012 (slow roasted pork loin)

Sarnie heaven

Happy new year. I mean it. There's something about a new year which excites me, no matter how many new year's resolutions we break, diets discarded and positive thoughts banished, the prospect of a clean slate each January makes me feel good. Especially when the previous year wasn't the best. We're all bloated with rotting livers from Christmas, I had a lovely time, cooked a lot, reduced Mum's bulging fridge to a couple of Tupperware tubs, saw friends and family and generally had a gay old time. We broke a record for using leftovers, the enormous turkey was gobbled up within a week thanks to amazing, life-changingly-good sandwiches, the boxing day ham didn't last long and the look of pure fear and disgust in my Dad's eyes when I kept threatening to make a lovely cous cous salad for him kept me entertained for over a week. I don't think I've ever watched so much telly in my life, or had such a relaxing festive break, so all good there. I didn't bother blogging over the holiday as I was far too busy doing nothing, and I didn't think a recipe for a sandwich was really that interesting (in-case you are interested: lightly toasted white bread, turkey, stuffing as butter, lettuce, gherkins, mayo and Tabasco). I spent a lot of the Christmas break drooling over new cookbooks which I have already attacked, and am hungry for more.

Let's face it, the best bit.

Now we're back to reality with a bang, the weather isn't great (the roof may be blowing off as I type). New year's day was a write off (the less said about that the better), so much so that yesterday, the 2nd, felt like my New Year's Day, involving a walk to the pub, a lazy slow roast pork loin and way too much red wine. Stuff the detox, just eat and drink a little less but keep it delicious and interesting. Good food will always make you feel better when you're down and it makes me so sad when people say they can't be bothered to cook for one. You should because (cue hair flick and plastic smile) YOU'RE WORTH IT! And then, when you do have company, really go for it, and reap the rewards, in the form of empty plates and grateful friends. Below is what I cooked for two of my best friends last night, I recommend it. It's kind of an amalgamation of several recipes, everyone has a different method for perfect crackling it seems, this turned out great so I'm sticking with it.

Fake fire on table, WHY?!

Feeds three generously. Pre-heat the oven to 220 and make sure your 1kg boned pork loin joint (with scored skin) is at room temperature. Stick the meat on a wire stay in the sink and pour over a kettle of boiling water. Now dry it really well with kitchen roll. On the flesh side rub in a few teaspoons of freshly ground fennel seeds (thank you for my spice grinder middle sister) and sprinkle with salt. In a baking tray combine a sliced onion and a few bashed whole cloves of garlic and a little olive oil. Now put the pork on top, flesh side down, so that the onion is all underneath, it's there to kind of provide a barrier between the pork and tray, which no matter what I do, always burns. But it doesn't matter. Sprinkle the skin with coarse rock salt and place on top shelf of the oven for about half an hour, or until the crackling has started forming. Reduce the heat to 150, lower the tray in the oven, cover with foil, put the extractor fan on and walk to the pub. Stay there drinking Rioja for two or three hours, ignoring nagging thoughts that the house is burning down. When you come back, remove the foil, drain off the fat that has rendered off the joint (use this for your roast potatoes) and keep cooking until you have done all your veg. Timing really doesn't matter, it's a long low cook, three hours at the lowered temperature is about enough but if you go over it's fine. At this point, if the crackling is less than tooth-breakingly crunchy, just slice it off the meat and cook it on the top shelf of the oven until satisfactory. By this point the meat can be carved with a spoon. I served it with purple sprouting broccoli, braised cauliflower (simmer/steam broken up florets in a small amount of stock with a pinch of saffron strands, when cooked, drain off excess stock, squeeze half a lemon over it, sprinkle with chopped parsley and a slick of extra virgin olive oil) and roast potatoes that were cooked in the pork fat. I like to think the resourceful merit there outweighs the risk of a heart attack. Somehow. Oh and also an amazing spiced apple sauce from my new cook book by the legend that is Niamh Shields (chopped apples cooked in a little water with chopped chili, nutmeg and cinnamon until mushy).

Oh I forgot to mention, the house will reek of pig for a few days, which I always forget about. Get some Fabreeze or something.

Pork Chops with Broad Bean Mash & Garlic Butter

Petits pois and broad beans are the only veg I buy frozen, and they are so useful, never going brown and limp in the fridge, always ready for me, sometimes escaping from the bag which I haven't secured properly, but otherwise thoroughly reliable. Both lend themselves well to being mushed up once cooked. Hello?? Mushy peas!!! This is a speedy week night recipe to enliven the humble pork chop.

Get your chops round that

Feeds 2. Slice up a couple of potatoes and roast in the oven in a slick of olive oil. Cook two big handfuls of broad beans or peas or a combination of the two for about 4 minutes in salted boiling water then drain. Smash up a big clove of garlic in a pestle and mortar with a pinch of salt to make a paste, then stir in a tbsp soft butter. Get a frying pan nice and hot, rub a little olive oil on two pork chops and season them. Fry in the pan (you could grill them) so they are nicely coloured on each side (about 4 minutes each side if fairly thick) but not dry and over-cooked. Meanwhile, wizz up the peas/beans, a clove of garlic, juice of half a lemon, salt and pepper, a glug of extra virgin olive oil and a bit of chili if you fancy. Serve the pork on top of the mash, with the butter blobbed on top and the tatties on the side.

You probably shouldn't go out after this, you may get funny looks. Maybe because you look funny, but probably because you stink of garlic.

Paprika Pork - Piece of Piddle

Donkey dong never looked so good...

I've been moving about a bit recently and have been away from my kitchen. Away from my beloved routine of daydreaming about what to cook and how to use up whats in the fridge. Having just got back from a work trip to China, and still suffering flash-backs relating to the horrors* I saw on menus and people's plates, I'm playing it safe. I had free reign in my kitchen last night, and decided against anything too exciting and fancy, just in case it went wrong, and I cooked paprika pork, a super easy, (who knows, I may have forgotten how to use a knife properly during my culinary exeat) delicious and comforting bowl of gentle Spanish flavours.

I still find it hard to deal with a nice fillet of pork without giggling, come on it looks like a massive dong belonging to a giant donkey or something. But it is also delicious. I'm sure they eat donkey dong in certain more adventurous lands, but stick with pork fillet here and all will be well.

Feeds 2. Cut a 225g piece of pork fillet into little medallions, the thinner you slice the quicker it cooks and the further it goes, but you may prefer fewer, chunky pieces. Finely chop an onion (yes I know in the picture its not finely chopped, but like I said my knife skills need waking up) and slowly soften in a big deep frying pan in olive oil. Be patient, this is the longest bit, they must be soft and sweet, but not browned. Add the pork and cook for a minute each side, add two tsp paprika and mix it all up. Season and up the heat. Add a big glug of sherry (I use Fino) and let it all bubble for about five minutes, stirring occasionally. Meanwhile get some gnocchi on the go (takes three minutes, they are ready when they float to the surface). When you're happy the pork is cooked stir in two tbsp creme fraiche, and a small handful of chopped parsley. Check for seasoning and serve the pork on top of the gnocchi.

Don't scrimp on the sauce. It's the best bit. Sadly it's a bit awkward to lick the frying pan but I would if I could.

*I did eat some great food there but the sight of dishes such as 'bad duck stomach', 'crocodile innards soup' and the cruel and famous 'shark fin soup' did give me the willies.

End Of Summer (meat) Party

Want. Now.

Towards the end of the summer I was getting that old nagging feeling, a little whisper in my ear that said 'Hey, you haven't had a party for a while, surely your nice nearly finished garden needs trashing while you water the lawn with red wine...' It was decided, we were to have a bash, invite all our friends, and above all, cook delicious meat. The meat planning commenced, or rather I day dreamed about marinating, jerking and rubbing for a few days before consulting the Bularian Meat Man of Surbiton. This wasn't something I did without thought, he is a serious and busy man, I didn't want to waste his time, what I did want was some beautiful meat. To cut a long story short, I asked for some pork and chicken wings and got to work deciding on a jerk recipe for the wings and some sort of fennely garlicky rub for the pork. Not necessary. I went to pick up the meat and it was handed to me by a girl who's name he had just texted to me (all very cloak and dagger) and I was a bit perplexed when I found the pork to be slightly warm.  I could see it was vacuum packed in (what I thought) was its own juices and blood, and cut open the bag over the sink as soon as I got home to investigate. Nooooooooo!!! It became immediately clear that this most generous man had not only marinated the meat, but cooked it in his sous vide for 48 hours at low temperature. I felt such a fool. Unworthy of such meat bestowed unto me, I pulled myself together (no point in crying over spilt marinade) and rubbed it with garlic and fennel anyway, wrapped it tightly in clingfilm to keep the moisture in and stuffed them in the fridge. The meat was so tender I could have broken the flesh in half. I prayed I hadn't blown it and planned to just brown them on the barbie the next day, surely the two hunks of oink would be fine? They were, and it was a triumph, but I desperately tried to get them cooked and sliced up before the  meat man came and saw what I had done to his perfect pork. I have never seen so many people gorging on soft melty pork all at once, I just wish I had saved more for myself as by the time I got some I was so hammered I can barely remember it. But I know it was definitely good.

A Bit Gross, but Worth It: Pork Scratchings

I like to take the meaty theme of a barbie seriously. You cannot overdo it on the meat front as far as I am concerned, and when pondering what kind of nibbly pre-main-event morsels I could provide for our BBQ yesterday, the slabs of pork fat in my freezer were calling me. Oink. But let me explain, I didn't go out shopping for pig skin especially (although I might now), but the nice people at Farmer's Choice, where I get most of my meat from, had popped four packs of the stuff in my last order, a little porcine present for me. As soon as I saw them I knew they'd be turned into pork scratchings, but I needed an excuse and reason, and they didn't come out to play until yesterday.

Making them was a little guess work and common sense. I'm not ashamed to admit I was properly grossed out by the mass of (hairy in patches) pale, leathery skin, but the possibility of crunchy, salty, porky treats was enough to get me through it. I say possibility, because I wasn't 100% sure they were going to turn out right. But they did, they were a triumph and this is how I made them:

Dry off the pork skin with kitchen roll and lay flesh side down and sprinkle with salt. Leave for half an our, meanwhile pre-heating the oven to max temperature. Brush off the salt and dry again. Cut into pork scratching sized strips (not the highlight of my day, I used scissors, hard work). The boyfriend suggested cutting into strips, I was going to cook whole, hate to admit it, think he was right. Arrange all the little strips, skin side up, on a baking tray and put on top shelf in the oven. Put on the extractor fan and open the kitchen door as your house will smell distinctly porky otherwise. They're done when they look like, erm, pork scratchings, all blistered and brown, and some go pleasingly curly. I found some bits were ready before others so just took out the done ones and gave the others a further blast. Drain them on kitchen roll and save the curliest ones for yourself.

Slow Cooked Pork, Stavros Style

Not sure how chorizo is in a
'Greek' dish but there you go.

Pork, lemon, chorizo, sherry vinegar and fennel, what's not to like here? This is one of those get home from work, throw it together, and leave it to simmer away dishes, leaving you free to not do all those chores you simply don't have time for, rather watch Come Dine With Me or a re-run of the Inbetweeners. It's cheap and store cupboardy so a big thumbs up from me, which was upgraded to a very enthusiastic thumbs up from the Boyfriend when he was finally fed.

Feeds 6. Pre-heat the oven to 150C. Brown a kilo of cubed pork shoulder in a big casserole in some olive oil and set aside. Then fry a sliced onion and a few chopped garlic cloves until softened. Add 3tbsp sherry vinegar, bubble for two minutes and throw in a handful of chopped chorizo, cook until it oozes with its lovely paprika spiked oil. Bash up a tsp fennel seeds and throw them in, and return the pork and any juices to the casserole. Finally stir in a tin of tomatoes and a squirt of tomato puree and about a litre of water so it all looks a bit splashy and wet. The sauce will reduce right down in the oven, so give it a good stir and season, bring to a simmer, then pop the lid on and cook in the oven for a couple of hours, take the lid off for another 15/30 mins depending how thick its all got. Serve with a zingy gremolata made by combing chopped lemon zest, garlic and parsley. Ooh next time I might use half onion, half chopped fennel for extra crunch.

This is lovely in the summer with some green beans and rice, and comforting mashed potatoes in the winter. Hmmm looking outside right now its more like December than August, so mash it is.

Hung Shoo Pork Fo Sho



A lovely slab of belly pork had been waiting patiently to be removed from my freezer and eaten. Last time I made roast pig's tum I ate so much that I rolled about in agony on the sofa all afternoon (watching Come Dine With Me, obviously, it was a Sunday), could smell salty crackling emerging from every pore and I was even dreaming about piggies for days. No more pork belly for me. For a while. Until I couldn't resist buying more, it's just so blimmin cheap!!!! But it sat in the freezer for ages, unloved and un-wanted, until I remembered I had this Chinese recipe from the very un-Oriental Delia. This is a fantastic recipe, like all my favourite meals and boys, simple but delicious.                 



Don't eat the skin, unless you want to, weirdo.

Feeds four to five pork lovers. Cut a piece of belly pork weighing approx 1kg (ish) into cubes approx 3cm squared. This is near impossible to complete in a precise manner as the meat often varies in thickness, but aim for lots of cubes, each with skin still attached (don't worry, you don't eat the skin, but it's important for flavour and the gelatinous dark delicious sauce). Use a big sharp knife, I know it sounds obvious but it's quite an exhausting job (if anyone helpful asks if you require any assistance, get them to do this bit). In a large casserole dish, lay all the pork, skin side down and sprinkle over approximately 8 tbsp dark soy sauce, 2 tbsp water, a tbsp finely chopped ginger and tuck a couple of star anise in with the meat. Cover, bring to a simmer, then lower the heat and cook gently for 45 minutes or so, then turn all the pieces of pork over, sprinkle with 6 tbsp of Chinese rice wine (pretty sure sherry would work if you don't have any) and a 2tsp of caster sugar. Cover and cook for another 45 minutes, giving the meat a nudge every now again to ensure it hasn't cemented itself to the bottom of your dish. Serve with some simple greens and rice, spooning the incredibly actually real Chinesey tasting sauce over it all.

No pork sweats whatsover with this one.

A Right Royal Meaty Feast



No room for hippy bean burgers here

 So we've done the Royal breakfast, we've sipped our bubbles earlier than normally allowed (I love how a Royal Wedding permits, and even encourages pre-midday intoxication, not to mention A DAY OFF) and now it was time to skip down the road to Pip's house, where that strange English phenomenon known as the Street Party, was taking place. We had strict orders to pick up some pork from the legend that is Surbiton's Bulgarian Meat Man, also known as Kalin. It was all a bit mysterious and exciting, even more so when he was no-where to be found in the pub kitchen where we were meant to meet him. So we trotted off to the street party (where it was bunting and Union Jacks a go-go) to wait for him. Hopefully the pork would turn up. An hour later it did, Kalin came and dropped off what must have been about 8 or 9 kilos of beautiful pork loin. Kalin had been working in the pub kitchen all day and was happy to leave it to me to 'do something' with the pork. It HAD to be marinaded, we didn't have much time but a quick rub with something tasty would be better than nothing. After telling me she didn't have much in her kitchen, I found everything I needed at Pip's, and made two different flavours for our porcine friends.

Meaty treats

Forget everything the NHS tells you, when it comes to BBQs and pork, salt is your best friend. Use it liberally and you can't go wrong. For the first marinade bash up fennel seeds in a pestle and mortar, then add lots of peeled garlic and bash that up with the seeds, adding a good helping of salt. That is it, fennel seeds, garlic and salt, like with the pork belly recipe I blogged in January, simplicity is key. Loosen with olive oil and smear all over the pork. Marinade number two is just bashed up coriander seeds and dried chilies, garlic, lemon juice, salt and again, loosen with olive oil then get smeary with it. Ideally let the piggy bathe in that for a good four hours or so, but the coals were ready and Kalin was looking anxious.

The pork was expertly cooked by Kalin, gently and slowly, this was a lot of meat and bloody pork was not the effect we were after. We sliced it all up, put it in baguettes, with some salad for the girls. We handed round the sliced pork and the gannets devoured the lot. Except for the vegetarian lady who longingly sighed at the heavy platter of heaven. God didn't give you those canines for nothing lady. The street party was a fantastic triumph, bringing out the community spirit in everyone, not to mention, the carnivore.

Pesto Pork

Just make sure the pig is cooked through...

Pesto is one of those things that when bought from the shop is TOTALLY inferior to home made. Many things are the opposite, pastry is a good example. See, I'm not a food purist at all, but with something as simple to make as pesto, there are no excuses. It is also hugely versatile, everyone has had it in pasta, but it also makes a good salad dressing if used sparingly and is AWESOME blobbed on top of minestrone soup. That's only two ideas, but it's monday morning and I don't want to push myself too much.

A third idea is to slather it over a lovely juicy pork chop, transforming the humble slice of piggy into something really delicious. My pesto always comes out slightly differently, I don't measure what goes into it, there is no need, and it depends how much you have of everything. Just taste it as you go, as everyone has different tastes, and not everyone likes to ensure they are totally safe from the Twilight crew, as I do, with excessive garlic consumption.

To make pesto, you will need a wizzer of some description. Into this throw a bunch of basil, stalks removed, a small handfull of toasted pine nuts (just toast in a dry frying pan over a medium heat until they go light brown, super easy to burn them so be careful), a handful of grated parmesan, a couple of roughly chopped garlic cloves (go easy if you don't want to stink forever), salt, pepper, juice of half a lemon, and a massive glug of olive oil. Wizz it up so you have a lovely vivid green sauce and taste. Might need more salt, or a bit more lemon for some zing, tweak to your taste.

I like to serve it on a griddled T-bone pork steak with some sliced up roasted potatoes and something green on the side. I am yet to cook the T-bone steak without having to put it back in the pan to cook it some more, really hard to get right, it would be a tragedy to dry it out, but then bleeding pork isn't good either. You can use any pork chop but t-bones are super juicy and tasty, as long as you don't give yourself food poisoning by undercooking it, as I like to do.

A healthy snack

My local serves the best pork scratchings known to man. Or pig. They are created by the Bulgarian Meat Man who lives up the road, and when they run out, which sometimes happens, grown men have been known to weep. That is all.

Excess Sausage Cure

How to turn a million bangers into none.

It got cold again today, as my fingers and toes froze on the walk home tonight, the thought of a gorgeous-equivalent-of-a-duvet-casserole quickened my stride. On inspection of the freezer this morning I found no less than five packets of sausages. I do appreciate it when boyfriend does the shopping, I really do, but I wish that just sometimes he'd stick to the list and try and ignore the tantalising special offer red stickers.

Sausage casserole it was then. There must be a million ways of cooking it but right now this is my favourite. No specific quantities, its all down to how many you cook for and how you like it. Brown the sausages in a casserole dish, add chopped onion and garlic, finely chopped fresh rosemary, turn the heat down, cover and cook gently for 15 minutes. Once onions are soft add chicken stock, beans of your liking (flageolets, black eyed beans or even chick peas are good) and season. Cook for about 20 minutes, stir in a decent glug of single cream,then add a load of kale (lush dark green goodness that probably makes you live forever I reckon) and simmer away, covered for another 10 minutes until the kale is cooked. I add a load of chilli at this point. But I add it to most things. Check seasoning and top with chopped parsley. And serve with mash. Obviously.

Yum yum, pig's tum

Sunday = mandatory roast in my house, as it does for many others. It was just the two of us, so I cooked a small hunk of pork belly. I bought a big bit at the meat counter, and in a moment of restraint I asked the nice lady to cut it into two pieces, as I knew that if she didn't, I would slow roast the lot for just the pair of us, leaving us resembling the animal we just devoured.

This recipe comes from a friend, I ate it at her house and had to have the recipe and it never fails. Just make sure you leave enough time to cook it nice and slowly.

Snip off any string from the joint and lay it flat, skin side up. Make sure the skin is scored, it normally already is when bought from the supermarket. Sprinkle salt liberally over the entire skin surface and leave for half an hour. Meanwhile heat your oven to about 220 degrees.

In a pestle and mortar bash up a few teaspoons of fennel seeds (they do eventually grind up, trust me, most satisfying!) then add about 4 cloves of garlic and salt, bash until you have a bit of a paste going on. Add a small splash of olive oil to loosen it up.

After half an hour of  'salting' brush off the excess salt from the pork and use kitchen roll to mop up any moisture from the skin (the salt draws it out to help with the crackling). Coat the flesh side of Mr Piggy with the paste, lay in a baking try, skin side up and blast in your hot oven for at least half an hour, you want the crackling to have really started forming, leave it longer if not. Once you are happy turn the heat down to 150 degrees and roast for about 2 hours until the meat is really really tender.

Sometimes you can make a gravy from the juices, but normally when I do it the garlic has caused too much burnt caramelly mess. I really do think this is the best way to deal with pork belly. Crackling should now be tooth crackingly good. Oink.

Banging tunes and ….pork patties, last Thursday.

Radio 1 have jumbled their DJ’s round for the last week and its been amazing, literally life changing. As I listened to Annie Mac today I blasted through the drawer of credit card receipts I had been saving for a special occasion, nodding away to her dubstep beats as insanely as a 28 year old in a posh Mayfair office can manage (I was alone in said office FYI). And I get to rave it up cooking dinner each night, listening to DJs who don't usually get airtime until after midnight.

So I got home, safe in the knowledge that I had spent the last Monday food planning (writing a list of recipes I want to make, buying stuff from Tescos online, and running into Waitrose to buy the meat and fish). In my Good Life fantasies I dream of heading down to the Surbiton Farmer’s Market and gaily filling my trug full of handpicked wild mushrooms (which boyfriend doesn’t like but I love), juicy sausages from rare breed piggies and lovingly crafted beef and stilton pies from some ruddy cheeked farmer who’s wife made them all home made don’t you know. But I always forget which Saturday is the last Saturday in the month and in reality all the good stuff would be gone by the time I dragged my booze addled head down there.

Good God I ramble, anyway, along with the meat and fish shop I got some pork mince (v. cheap YESSSS!) and while whooping along to a soundrack of Kissy Sell Out (He played ‘drumstep’ then a re-mix of Paul Simon OMG) I made them into lovely patties by mixing them with grated apple (I had one in the fridge after a failed pheasant dish, don’t ask) and finely chopped onion, fry, then keep the patties warm while making a nice sauce by frying a bit more chopped onion, adding chopped black olives, big splash of water and crème fraiche. And OBVIOUSLY a massive load of chopped parsley. As my Dad always says: you can never have too much parsley. I bloody love parsley.