A study in textures, and the ‘Romulo Yanes effect.’

(We have a watering can?)

I don’t particularly want, or need, to talk about what I’ve been doing recently. Nothing interesting. Looking for a job, whilst at the same time fearing what my Tutors will have to say, in the assessment period that creeps ever nearer.

No, forget about it. I just want to talk about Romulo Yanes; My latest camera-crush. You should all know me by now - If it looks like it “may contain effort”, then it probably wasn’t all that fun. Don’t take this the wrong way Romulo (I know you’re reading,) but it’s the illusion of a lacking in effort that makes your work distinctive.

Yanes and rustic, grungy textures, go together like Brie and Baguette - That’s the analogy I want to use. It’s hearty, and the sort of thing Yanes would photograph. That’s how the game is played from now on, and all of this has got me in the mood for some serious still life-inspired texture hunting.

(Disclaimer: Below Steak image by Romulo Yanes, borrowed from Gourmet.com. Don’t sue me.)

Compared to my own quick afternoon stab…

So you see what ‘The Yanes effect’ is all about, right? And what I’m shooting for?

It’s kinda sexy, in a really rugged sort of way. Disregard that last sentence if it makes you uneasy. As for this watering can - No idea. Not a clue. It’s in the back garden.

So what do you think? ‘Yay’ for Yanes? Who have you discovered recently that I should know about?

This couldn’t wait. They’re lying to us!

What do you expect when you bite into a freshly-baked Bagel? An honest and manly exterior, throwing it’s coat over a chewy, eventually softly yielding centre?

Yeah, me too.

Do you expect something that transcends a regular bread roll? Of course you do. You bite into that Bagel hoping for some of that sweet, yeasty, malty goodness.

Damn it! That’s not what you get anymore! Not around here, anyway. Look at all of that stuff on top of there - I shouldn’t have to do that. I don’t like doing that. THAT, makes me despair, as to why the only couple of places in Lincoln that sell the bread with the hole, shamelessly try and pass of regular bread in the shape of a Bagel.

It starts so hopeful every Saturday. I do my weekly food shopping in the morning - Somehow, always exchanging money for Bagels, in the hope that whomever is making them has realised; “My God, I’ve made a terrible mistake!”.

Do they realise? No, they don’t. They dare to call these things Bagels, when all they’ve done, is poke a hole in their regular dough and make the top a bit shiny. It seems as though I’m not the only one who’s noticed the lack of (not even a decent Bagel, but) a real Bagel. I can’t go on, it’s all too much; Go on over to Chow if I’ve enstilled a feeling of passionate rage inside of you, and you still have some left to vent.

Edit: If anyone knows what This thing below is, please let me know if I can get rid of it. This isn’t on.

Pita Panzanella

Nev-

…Neverland- No. Er…Cod fish!

*sigh* As you may well imagine, being the smart-alec that I am, that I’m trying my utmost to make a Peter Pan joke here. It just seems like a hugely wasted opportunity, when the word play is so brilliant - It’s right there, but it’s doing nothing for me!

If there’s anyone out there willing to crack a pun for me, then go ahead - I look forward to ‘lol-ing’ at it.

There is method to my madness, mind you; I mean, I don’t put things like this together, just to satisfy my discovery of a slightly humorous name. Quite to the contrary, it was my intention, to submit this twist on the classic Italian leftover salad, ‘Panzanella’, to the most recent edition of Root Source.

The theme was ‘Pita bread’, and that decisive moment of deviant genius, I thought: “Hey, I’ll just dismantle a Turkey sandwich and call it a salad. It’ll be a hit!”

It wasn’t until I took a look at the deadline, to see how long I could put this off for, smug in the knowledge that I had a post ready to go, that I realised I had missed the deadline by something stupid like 2 hours.

“Bastard!” I know, that’s exactly what I thought too. It was at this point that resigned to the fact, that making it just to share the funny name was going to have to do. Not only that, but it gave me an excuse to buy sliced Deli meats from my local Butchers - Which I love doing; I always buy extra, since eating it straight from the crumpled paper bag, is impossible to resist.

Lemon-Pesto dressing, rub the toasted Pita with a cut clove of garlic, and you’re ready to go. I just hope that the majestic immensity of the original joke wasn’t lost on a single one of you - Pita Panzanella! You can’t even make that stuff up.

Almost there! But not really…

Just three more weeks until assessment, and the end of the year - But no, shut up, everyone is bored of hearing about University.

I know I am, and that’s why I’ve turned to hard drinking. It eases the pain and worry.

Hah! Just kidding - It’s water; A lot of you may not be aware of the place that I spend most of my time looking at the food photography of others, so prepare to have your minds blown, as you attempt to fathom the mad skillz of the people in my beloved Food Photography Club. I mention this club, only because the inspiration for the above image, came from one of it’s member’s recent shots.

I’ve done this post a bit backwards really - Drink before food? Clearly, I forgot to take my medicine this morning.

Anyway, this really is just a quick and easy side dish, which you could jazz up with sherry, white wine, or even the Martini-mentioned Vodka (Just a thought, don’t kill me if it doesn’t work.)

Sautéed Courgette, with Lemon and Walnuts:

No, it’s not revolutionary, but I have a million and one other things to be doing, and this was amazing.

1 large Courgette (Zucchini)  •  1 clove Garlic, minced  •  Juice of half a Lemon •  1/4 cup walnuts, roughly chopped  •  Black pepper •  Soy sauce

1. Place a pan onto the heat with a little oil (I use Corn oil, don’t know why, just do.)

2. Chop the Courgette into small chunks - I like the Ken Hom “diagonal, then turn” cut.

3. Add the Courgette to the pan, and sautée for a couple of minutes. Throw in the garlic, lemon juice, walnuts and pepper.

4. Continue, until the Courgette is tender, but not mushy. Here’s where you add your liquid - Soy sauce, Sherry, whatever.

5. Coat everything, remove and serve.

Stop! …Thai time.

When was my last post? April 8th? Wow.

3 weeks or so left until assessment of our entire year’s work starts, and the whole course is in a state of despair and panic at the sheer crap-load of work we still have left. Quite fairly, I’m no exception - Hence why posts have been so few and far between.

Time is all screwed up at the minute - I’m writing this up at 4:50pm, whereas I’d normally do it before mid-day.

Ah, but don’t worry, it’s not all bad - This constant work-flow has taught me to appreciate the faster things in life; Like this simple Thai noodle soup.

I won’t give a recipe, you know pretty much how these kind of things go, just make sure you’ve got all the bits that Thai food is known for - Salt, sweet, spicy, sour and bitter.

One technique I will share however, for those who don’t usually, is how to “velvet” your chicken, courtesy of Mr. Ken Hom…

Velvet Chicken: For 1-2 chicken breasts.

1-2 large chicken breasts • 1 large egg white • 1 tablespoon cornstarch

Just 3 ingredients, but wow - Does it ever make a difference?

1. Cut the chicken into whatever size you require, and combine in a bowl, with the egg white and cornstarch.

2. It’ll look pretty messy and gross at this point, but just bare with it. Use chopsticks, or your fingers to toss and coat the chicken.

3. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes, then use as required.

Chimichanga - Should’ve done this before.

Alright!

I know, I was berated by all of you who read my last post, after I said I’d made Chimichangas for Dinner, but not photographed them due to the crap light situation.

“No! You bastard! Chiminchangas now! Not this bloody soup!” Granted, it wasn’t quite like that, but the amount of comments building up asking when American’s favourite Mexican mistake would cross the border from plate to camera. Well, right now, is the answer. Right now, there it is - Happy? You’d better be.

What is a Chimichanga anyway? Prepare yourself, because like the Club sandwich, I’m about to hit y’all with the history: The year is 1922, Restauranteur ‘Cameron Strukoff’ is working away in her kitchen at ‘El Charro’. In a moment of panic and disarray, she drops something Burrito-esque into the deep fat frier.

“Oh noes!” She screams. Composing herself, and quickly altering her conscious stream of curse words, out comes “Chimichanga!”, the Spanish equivalent of ‘thingamajig’ - The Chimichanga is born.

Alternatively, some other guy invented it during the 1950’s, but don’t you prefer the first story?

Chimichangas: Makes 2 (Basic recipe, add whatever you like.)

Meat from 1 Large chicken thigh +leg • 1/2 bell pepper • 1 clove garlic, minced • 1/2 onion, chopped • 1 teaspoon Rosemary • cheese, you’ll know how much (Cheddar or Fontina is good) • 2 flour tortillas

1. Pre-heat your oven to 180°c, and begin to heat a little oil in a frying pan

2. Cook the Chicken, along with the Pepper and Rosemary, until the meat is almost cooked through, but not entirely.

(When using Garlic, I always add it later on, so that it doesn’t burn.)

3. Add the Garlic, season, then remove from the pan, reserving any oil left over.

4. Use a microwave, or your pre-heated oven, to gently warm the Tortillas, so that they’re easier to fold.

5. Lay a Tortilla out in front of you, and place half the filling in the centre, slightly down, towards yourself. Roll away from you once, then fold in the edges, and continue rolling until sealed.

6. Place the pan back on the heat, and place the (at the this point Burrito) seam side down, into the remaining oil. Fry for 30 seconds-1 minute or so, then turning to do the other side.

7. Transfer the Burrito to a baking tray, and place in the oven, for 10-15 minutes, or until crispy on the outside.

8. Remove and serve with beans or rice, sour cream and Guacamole (If you have it.)

Spaghetti Soup with Lemon & Balsamic Radishes.

Mark, my more medically-manageable Filipino twin (check that alliteration), began his last post by explaining how he tries, most of the time, to make what he shares bare some relevance to his current state of being him.

I like to think that I am very much the same. It’s not that I like order in my life, no; I need it. Visitors to my place are always shocked and sometime appalled, by the apparently ruthlessly tidy way I keep myself. I’d like to say that it doesn’t border on compulsive, but it probably does - Whatever.

However, even the tidiest (most smudge on my LCD screen cleaning-est) of us, can’t always find an entirely relevant way in which to link post and life. That’s why, the only reasoning behind what you see below, is that I happened to buy some Radishes on Friday, and I had time to do a post this weekend.

Hows about that?

Whilst I was in Rome, I bought a tiny 40ml bottle of Balsamic Vinegar, which I’ve been using in, on and with, almost everything from pasta and bread, to bananas and ice-cream. A perfect opportunity then, I thought, to continue along the same vein and soak the aforementioned radishes in this sweet and wonderful syrup.

*Side note: I made Chimichangas tonight. It was epic. Wish I’d photographed, but you know how I hate to use nasty flash.

Spaghetti Soup with Lemon & Balsamic Radishes: 2 servings

1 can (or concasse your own if you’re just that damn good) Tomtoes • 1 clove garlic, minced • 1/2 small onion, diced • 1/2 bell pepper, chopped however you feel like • 1/4 cup petit pois - That’s peas for anyone who didn’t grow up eating these gorgeous things whenever possible • Fresh or dried Rosemary, you know how much you like • Fresh spaghetti - Fresh is best for this, since it can go straight into the soup.

For the Radishes:

half a dozen or so radishes, sliced • juice of half a lemon • a little balsamic vinegar, I didn’t measure • Salt & Pepper.

1. First, place the radishes in a small bowl with the lemon, balsamic and seasoning. Leave aside.

2. Gently sweat the garlic, pepper and onion in a little oil, then throw in the chopped rosemary and peas.

3. Give a few minutes, and add in the tomatoes. Top up to your desired thickness with water or stock and bring to a simmer.

4. After roughly 10 minutes or so, add in the Spaghetti; Just do it by eye. Too much, you’ll know.

5. Once the spaghetti has cooked through, use a fork to gather it into serving bowls, and carefully ladle the soup on and around the pasta.

6. Garnish with the radishes (and a little spring onion if you like), serve.

Chicken & Avocado Club Sandwich.

‘Cause to the Universe I don’t mean a thing,

and there’s just one word that I still believe, and it’s love,…

love. love. love. lo-v-aaaaaahhhh!’. ‘Pearl Jam - Love Boat Captain’

Love; For the sandwich. Again? Yes, again. There is no better testing ground for new flavour combinations, than that which can be found between two slices of bread. Whether it’s toil-worthy pulled Pork, crammed to overflowing inside a soft, round bun - Or plastic cheese slices, folded into cheap white bread (Which even felt wrong at age 10.)

How then, is it possible to make a great sandwich even better? It seems to me, that the only reasonable solution, is to shove another slice of bread in the middle.

‘What’s Cooking America’ cites the origins of the Club Sandwich, to a New York Gentlemen’s club over 100 years ago.

‘1894 - The most popular theory is that the sandwich first appeared in 1894 at the famous Saratoga Club-House (an exclusive gentlemen only gambling house in upstate Saratoga Springs, New York) where the potato chips was born. Originally called Morrissey’s Club House, were neither women nor locals were permitted in the gambling rooms. In 1894, Richard Canfield purchased the club.’

Just like the original, single-decker sandwich, named in honour of (but not by), the fourth Earl of Sandwich ‘John Montagu, the Club was born out of necessity. Necessity being the need to remain alive whilst stood at the gambling table.

So, I put the challenge to you all - Entertain my love of the Club Sandwich by making and posting your own. I can’t wait to see what y’all come up with.

Relax. I think it’s all gone.

The water that is, out of my camera. It’s been a very tense week, since I got back and realised that my camera was well and truly shagged. There was still a little condensation behind the display as of yesterday, even though I’ve had the thing in bits, airing out in an empty, covered drawer (with the fan on) since last Sunday.

I turned it on this morning, with the hopes of seeing a reduction in the little moisture left behind that screen. Thankfully, it had all disappeared, and now all that was left to do was check the sensor for smudges, dust and angry Italian women who thought I stole her umbrella. Bitch.

There doesn’t seem to be anything huge, angry or Italian old woman-ish on there, but I’ll still give it a good and thorough clean. Thank you so much to all of you for your support, much appreciated.

On a side note: It appears as though, with just a few hours left in the ‘Inspiring food photography’ nominations for March, that I’m not going to win. Whether that’s because the other’s photos are better than mine, or because I don’t update as often as they do, I don’t know; I don’t know and it hurts. It hurts in here, you know?

Whatever. It’s fine. I just thou- ah…

No. Doesn’t matter…

Thanks to everyone who voted for me though - You’re the smart ones.

Rome, Part II

OK. So, I ended Part 1 of my Rome write-up at lunch by the Spanish steps. Spilling out from the foot of the steps, is Rome’s main shopping district; Everyone from Armani, Prada and Louis Vuitton, through to Diesel, Puma, Adidas and Levi’s has it’s own shop here. Good luck finding anything wearable below €30 - A single polo shirt from Lacoste will set you back around €80.

Sprouting off of the main shopping streets, are tiny little Cafés and restaurants, some more expensive than others. It was in and around these packed little streets, that we had everything from countless cups of Gelato, to crackling, wafer thin Pizza and €18 worth of rare and bloody steak, surrounded by crisp and tender Rosemary-roasted Potatoes.

Thankfully, not everywhere is quite as pricey, and the two sandwiches you see above and below, along with a bottle of water, came to exactly €3.

My smiley face Foccacia, with Prosciutto and Rocket - One of those olives fell off later on, which was a shame.