Invention Test Roadshow

Speaking of cooking shows, I really like what Masterchef has done with the invention test, where contestants are given a box of possible ingredients and have to use a selection of them to make something edible. It's the easiest bit of the show to 'play along' with, armchair chef that I am. Of course it's not the same, what with the pressure of being put on the spot and not having access to the stuff you would usually have in your kitchen, but I like to think I'd do pretty well if I had to.

Rather sounds like fun, in fact.

So this lovely Easter weekend, Pete and I thought we'd do something a little different for dinners. One of us would go out and get various ingredients, the other one would have to make something out of them.

The rules:

1) The buyer will get four ingredients, and the chef will have to use at least three in the final meal.
2) Only other ingredients that are already in the kitchen can be used (we had no meat, no cheese, a little creme fraiche, carrots, potatoes and onions for veg, and the usual store cupboard staples and spices).
3) The buyer shouldn't be too mean.

We flipped a coin, and I went up to bat first. I braced myself as Pete went to the shops. He came back with:

Brinjal pickle
Beef burgers
Limes
Ritz crackers

As you can see

I'll pause while you have a think about that.

So. I figured the beefburgers would make up the bulk of the meal, but keeping them as they were seemed a little boring, so I was inclined to cut them into bits. Flavour wise, the brinjal pickle was obviously going to lead the way (I tried some, and it was deep, salty and hot), and that left limes and crackers. Since the pickle was so hot, I thought a little cool, creamy dip incorporating limes would work well. The crackers I should have left alone, but whatever. I thought I could make a crunchy topping with them. Whatever. I don't even care.

Ideas formed. Pete watched excitedly.

Excited.

I started off by cutting the burgers into quarters, then loosely forming them into meatballs and frying them. While they cooked, I chopped an onion and softened it a little in the saucepan before adding 3-4 tablespoons of the pickle. This turned out quite gluey so I added about a mug of water, and let the whole thing simmer for about 10 minutes.

I then took some of the creme fraiche that was in the fridge (about 4 tablespoons) and added the grated zest of a lime, and a small clove of crushed garlic. The lime flavour didn't come through as much as I thought it would, so I also added the juice from half a lime. The other half I put into the brinjal sauce, because I hate waste. I made a crunchy cracker topping by crushing the crackers and mixing them with toasted sesame seeds and coconut flakes, and a good pinch of ground coriander. I put these two in bowls to serve separately.

Like a muller crunch corner

I knew the cracker topping wouldn't be nearly enough of a starchy contribution to go with the meatballs, so I also sauteed some potatoes. They took ages and I ended up burning them slightly, but whatever.

So the whole thing:

Beefburger meatballs in brinjal pickle sauce, with sauteed potatoes, lime and garlic dip, and crushed cracker, sesame seed and coconut topping.

Conclusion: Yeah, pretty good. The sauce was excellent and worked well with the beef, and the creamy dip I think was a necessary counterpart. In fact, I liked the dip so much I will probably make it again. The crackers were fine, but entirely unnecessary. Whatever.

The next day was my turn to buy. The next day was also Easter Sunday, which I had not factored into my plans, as it meant the grocers was shut and I couldn't get any weird veg, which I really wanted to do.

Buying was trickier than I thought. I didn't want to get anything that pointed in one particular direction, so my instinct of picking one thing and following up with things I thought would go with it was off the table. I finally settled on:

Gammon steaks
Butternut squash
Coconut milk
Olive ciabatta rolls

Boom.

It was terribly exciting watching Pete steeple his fingers and walk up and down with purposeful intent. I can't tell you exactly what he did, since the whole process is shrouded in secrecy, but I can tell you that it involved many pans and some swearing.

Hard at work.

This is what he ended up with:

Gammon chunks in a smooth squash and coconut sauce, spiced with cumin, coriander, cinnamon and chilli, with toasted ciabbatta rolls for dipping.

Gammon curry, basically.

It was a really delicious and warming combination, and it made the whole house smell amazing.

It's hard to say who won exactly. I think we were both more critical of our own efforts, so I preferred his dish and he preferred mine. The whole thing was good fun but is best reserved for holiday weekends since it needs a little prep work, but I'd still recommend it. And I don't doubt we'll try it again - come back again for round 2.

A word on The Great British Menu

It's back. One of the few fun shows for all the family where there is 90% probability that any given person appearing on screen is an irredeemable prick.

Last year I really enjoyed my weekly review, pointing out my favourite dishes, who was the biggest prick, the judges comments, any drama caused by pricks, the winners and losers, and the least prickish prick*.

*There are very few genuinely sympathetic contestants, so it's not a question of someone being nice, just noticeably less prickish than the others

I still love the show, but from what I've seen in this first week I fear I would largely be repeating myself if I were to do the same thing again.

So the brief this year is for the chefs to create dishes that celebrate the veterans of D-Day, evoking a patriotic, 40's wartime spirit. OK. Sure. So far, so typical GBM. But if there was one thing we learnt from last year when the brief was to make 'comedy' food, it's that chefs Do. Not. Get. Tone. And telling a group of (how to put it?) pricks with no sense of tone to make something vaguely to do with war, seems pretty dicey to me. Example: last week, dull-eyed madman Ray made a starter of pigeon (homing pigeons, geddit?) with a note clutched in its claw (so clever!) that read something like 'Beach taken, casualties light'. And it went down a storm. They loved it. Does no one else find that unutterably tacky? To serve this to veterans, who may have used actual homing pigeons and who definitely saw actual casualties, no one else finds this kind of off? No one thinks that making the actual war that actually happened and people actually died in the 'theme' for a meal is a bit disrespectful? Yes, celebrate the veterans, sure, and good job too, but I can't see how making a dish based on someone's harrowing experiences is really the best way to celebrate them.

And that's before we even get to the dick swinging. Oh, lord, the dick swinging. I was obviously braced for it (overly aggressive competitiveness is, after all, a large part of the prickish sensibility), but factor in the brief and we've got whole new opportunities for self-aggrandisement. 'I'm doing it for the veterans', they say 'I really want to win this to honour their sacrifice'. The implicit meaning that these other chefs, they might just want to win for themselves, not like me, I want to win for the heroes, and doesn't that kind of make me a hero too? I might not mind it so much if it didn't so clearly reek of insincerity. But they aren't actors. They're chefs. And chefs Don't. Get. Tone.

There are still a lot of great things. Last week Tom Kerridge was delightfully encouraging and Marcus Wareing delightfully menacing. Despite some people's best endeavours, the cooking still looks inventive and fun. And my absolute favourite aspect of the show - the editing - is still provocatively incoherent. Any laughter is cut, making it look like no one can take a joke ever, and every sentence is met with a full minute of scowling. In the episode from Friday a shot of one chef climbing a hill in his hometown was immediately followed by a shot of the other chef arriving at the kitchen, giving the impression that they were both on their way to the studio but one took a wildly divergent route and got lost in the countryside. It was so weird that I got the giggles, and then I couldn't drink my wine because my hand was shaking from laughter, and then the fact that I was laughing at something so bizarre made me laugh even harder and I started to cry a bit and had to put my glass down. And then Pete was sitting next to me with such a weary yet patient expression waiting for me to explain why I was laughing for seemingly no reason at all that I got even worse and had a bit of a meltdown. It was the editing, Pete. The editing.

So this year I'm leaving all that behind. I'll watch it, and no doubt shout at the TV, but there's only so many times I can write 'But they're all such pricks!'. It's a lot, but there's a limit.