Simply the Nest

Remember Rice Krispie treats? I mean the proper homemade ones, not those nasty inedible prepacked ones in the shop (you have to do a tooth count after to make sure all 32 are still present and accounted for).

Well I had this idea that the treats would make good nests, since they have the right appearance and seem to be fairly malleable if Food Network challenges are anything to go by. Who knew that they’d spread their sticky goo into every possible kitchen crevice? Anyhoo. Totally worth it to make these adorable mini Easter nests – perfect if you’re having to cater for a large crowd.

I don’t often purchase marshmallows so I was gobsmacked at the huge variety – it was like Bubba from Forrest Gump had turned his attention from shrimp to the confectionery aisle. I settled on twisty ones whose colour I thought would be good for nesty appeal, but I guess it doesn’t really matter.

I don’t remember the Rice Krispie treats of my youth (you know, back when we knocked rocks together for music on a Friday night) being this insanely sticky and stretchy… it was a bit scary at first but I’m willing to bet this is any kid’s idea of sugar-coated heaven.

This makes roughly 24 nestlets – it’s hard to give an accurate yield, it really depends how large you make them (I’d say aim for the type that can be crammed into one’s face whole).

1/4 cup butter

4 cups marshmallows

5 cups puffed rice cereal

First – melt the marshmallows and butter together in the biggest bowl that will comfortably fit in your microwave. Marshmallows swell up super-fast when nuked! Keep an eye on those suckers. Literally pop them in for seconds at a time – as soon as they are mostly melted, give them a stir and start adding in the rice krispies. Keep stirring; don’t worry about the weird gloopy strands that start landing all over the kitchen, as if the Willy Wonky version of a giant spider is doing it’s thang in there.

While the mix is still warm, scoop out blobs and with lightly greased paws press into lightly greased muffin tins to form an indented nest shape. Ta-da! How easy was that? There’s a high impressedness vs. effort ratio on this one. Let them cool down and set completely before attaching little chocolate eggs to each nest using a tiny bit of melted chocolate, then using a teaspoon to ease them out of the muffin tin.

Do all countries have “speckled eggs”? The jelly ones with the chocolate and crunchy candy coating. I hope so because they are awesome; I suspect that the supermarkets hide them till just before Easter so they can watch us panic and try to find substitutes – either buy them way before or like the day before Easter Sunday.

Go impress large volumes of children this Easter Sunday J then watch from a safe location as the sugar courses through their weeny little bloodstreams. Send them back to their rightful owners before the sugar rush hits.

The LambShanks Redemption

So. This all started in a headspace far, far away from Easter; ever since I first read The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (now one of my top 3 books) and discovered the awesomeness of Charles Lamb (and his fondness for wine) I’ve been wanting to concoct something involving lamb and wine, as a little Ode to the great man. Finally, the magical day arrived, the day when I had all the necessary elements to create a fitting feast of Lamb & Wine. I had four neatly turned lamb shanks, a bottle of truly fantastic red wine, plus all the various bits and bobs ready to become the perfect accompaniments.

Now I’ve cooked lamb shanks previously but not for many many moons, and when at last (because it takes a bit of time) I launched the meal forth in all its glory… I realised that, actually, I’m not a huge fan of lamb shanks anymore. It was a bit of a “meh” moment for me. A “meh-e-e-e-eh” moment (that was a sheep noise, so it’s funny, so you have to laugh). It broke my gluttonous heart. I guess because lamb shanks is just one of those permanently popular dishes in South Africa I lost sight of the fact that it’s not a personal favourite (rack of lamb though … now we’re talking).

I didn’t feel comfortable putting poor old Charles Lamb’s name on it; it was beautifully rich and tender and tasty but lamb ankles (or whatever part they are) just aren’t my thing really. So I devised a method to convert the leftovers – and it turned out to be far more to my taste (possibly because carbs were involved? Oops). And so I give you – the LambShanks Redemption.

It’s like the ultimate man food. If cavemen had had petrol stations, these would have been the dodgy pies sold there at 4am after they’d been clubbing (Har har. Geddit? Clubbing). With the double cooking, the lamb is falling to pieces and rich and winey and (wait for it – big word) unctuous.

This is kind of a twofer recipe; possibly even a five-fer, if you include the sides:

4 shapely lamb shanks

Most of a 750ml bottle of a really good, rich, deep dark red wine.

Several chopped garlic cloves

A couple of onions

500ml stock – I used beef, to give some meaty oomph

2 cans of chopped tomatoes

2 or so sprigs of fresh rosemary – tie them together with a bit of string for ease of fishing out later

2 handfuls of those tiny baby onions usually used for pickling – about 15 I’d guess. Peeled. I know it’s a schlep. Have a glass of wine.

About 100g puff pastry per leftover lamb shank (this is not strictly necessary, unless you are planning to feed it to me). Or possibly a few sheets of phyllo. I found what could have been spring-roll pastry mooching around the back of the freezer and used that.

Because I did not entirely plan ahead (oops) I skipped over the first step completely, hence having to cook this down for most of the day and also hence the photos may not quite match the method. Consider it a lesson in how not to have the bright idea of cooking lamb shanks on the same day you wish to serve them.

1. This is totally easy. First, check the quality of the red wine. Quality control is key to a delicious end product. If you decide that it’s good enough, pour it over the shanks in a suitable container then allow them to steep overnight covered in the fridge. They should be properly intoxicated before you start cooking them. Remove the shanks from the fridge about an hour before cooking; remove them from the wine carefully and pat them dry-ish (don’t throw the wine out!).
2. Heat a tablespoon or two of oil in a vast heavy-based cauldron and brown the shanks over high heat on as many sides as you can balance them on; remove them from the pot and put them aside to rest, covered. In the remaining greasiness in the pot, fry the peeled baby onionlets until nicely browned on the outside. Park them in a dish for later. Then, fry the chopped regular-sized onions until translucent.
3. Add the garlic and fry for one more minute before throwing in the tomatoes, the lamb shanks, the rosemary, the reserved wine and half of the stock. Turn the heat down to low, put the lid on, open another bottle of wine and let the shanks simmer for at least 3 hours – check on it between glasses of wine, if it’s getting a bit thick add some stock. Fling the baby onions in after about 2 hours. It should become thick and rich and savoury and make your kitchen smell like an alcoholics dream; if you find that it’s too liquid simply leave the lid off for a bit and allow it to reduce.
4. Towards the end of the process (and you will see the shank bone being more and more exposed as the meat cooks and kinda shrivels up) start on the sides:

Side 1: Steamed broccoli. Or other green vegetable. I had no choice but broccoli, because I needed cauliflower and the shop only had mixed bags available. Carefully separating the two was not fun.

Side 2: Honey-glazed baby carrots. Yummo.

Side 3: The best side dish in the whole world ever – cauliflower puree with lots of blue cheese. Better than mashed potatoes! Just steam up a bunch of cauliflower florets, then blitz them in a food processor with a knob of butter and lots and lots of creamy blue cheese.

5. Now for the Redemption bit:

After you’ve realised that actually lamb ankles are a pretty darn gross concept and briefly consider going vegetarian, take the leftover shanks out of the fridge and park one in a small, greased ovenproof dish. It should just fit – top it up with a bit of gravy to level out the surface if necessary, with the bone poking upwards.

Then cut out a circle of pastry with a sharp knife, big enough to fit the top of the dish. Kind of roughly eyeball where to cut a hole for the shank bone to poke through then lower it over the meat and kind of tuck it in round the sides. If using phyllo don’t forget to paint each sheet with melted butter, and keep remaining sheets neatly covered with a clean damp tea towel, otherwise it will form like phyllo corrugated board.

Pop it in a hot oven for about 30 minutes, until the shank is bubbling and hot right through and the pastry is golden gorgeousness.

Be careful when serving – it’s kinder to warn diners that the dish is piping hot than to let them suffer 3^rd degree burns to the paws and tongue. Isn’t it awesome? Serve with a cold beer and a remote control as the only side dishes.

So long, and shanks for all the lamb (sorry I can’t help myself!).

SomeBunny Loves You

It’s almost the long weekend WOOP WOOP!! If you’re like me then you’ve treated Easter as one of those things on the distant horizon and then suddenly BAM!! it’s right on toppa you (like right now) – and there go all those shmancy ideas you’d had of crafting beautiful handmade chocolate bunnies and filigree Faberge eggs etc.

This happens to me without fail each year… and somehow the idea of just buying those same gold bunnies every year and sheepishly dishing them out to someone who is most likely going to give you the EXACT SAME bunny in return just doesn’t really appeal.

So here is what you do, right.

Purchase decent quality chocolate bunnies – the kind without foil. Nekkid chocolate bunnies. Don’t get those nasty cheap ones! Life is too short for chocolate that is really just brown wax.

(I find the bunnies a bit creepy. Don’t they look like they’re watching you? And not just watching, but judging).

Also purchase cookies, with a diameter wider than nude bunny’s bottom (this is starting to sound a little bit ruder than it really is). I used chocolate-coated digestives, as well as high-protein low-carb cookies from the pharmacy for the health nuts.

Whip up a small batch of green buttercream, and get together some pretty edible embellishments (I made my own *smug face* – little pink blossoms).

Next – assembly.

Stick the bunny onto the centre of the cookie using a bit of melted chocolate as the glue. Then go mental with the buttercream and flowers to make a pretty setting for the bunny – isn’t that cute?

Put the bunnies in a pretty box with pastel-coloured tissue paper and ribbons and other bits of fluff and I swear it will look far more impressive than intended!

Easter – SORTED.

Five Things: Ain’t Nobody Got Time For That

Is it just me or is there something wrong with all horological devices in existence?? (no, not what you are thinking – horological refers to timekeeping).

I strongly suspect that someone has pushed some kind of great big universal fast-foward button and time is disappearing at a faster rate than normal.

I honestly feel like that Gwen Stefani music video where she’s Alice in Wonderland. No, wait. Actually the only similarity is that “tick tock” sound in the background; there’s a noticeable absence of haute couture gowns and stoned Asian caterpillars in my version *gnash grrr*.

{time bomb kitchen timer – i wonder if it actually makes a kaboom sound?}

 

{methinks it’s time for a cuppa… i’m not sure what the idea behind this is, but i do like it}

 

{want want want this dali-inspired clock dripping from my bookshelf!!}

 

{this is zackly how i feel these days. it’s like they made it just for me.}

 

{but how would you know when it’s happy hour?}

Anyhoo. If you are share my feeling of absolute cold-sweat panic whenever you see what time it is, remember: