What's Cooking At Dive's? Cookies!

Cookies! Yay!
These are Shaker Spice Cookies and they are more addictive than crack cocaine.

As we are cooking another dish from the US of A, we shall be working once again from a recipe (as US cooking is alien to me).
This time the recipe has been provided by my girlfriend's mom (yes, as you should all have guessed by now, my girl has a "mom" rather than a "mum").

Get your pinnies on and come join us in the kitchen.

Here are the ingredients we shall be using. Yay for molasses! I've never cooked with that before.
In fact I bake about as often as Halley's Comet comes around (mum is brilliant at baking so I never needed to learn), so sugar, flour, bicarb and … er … ready-ground spices are a novelty to me too.

In fact - so that I don't mess things up - I shall defer to one who knows these things well and let my lovely assistant do all the hard work in today's post, while I simply operate the camera and eat the cookies.

Here she is already hard at work.
Those pretty orange measuring cups and the cute green and white measuring spoons have come all the way from the US, as I didn't have any such beasts in my menagerie.
You know me … I never measure anything. The nearest handful or "sploosh" is close enough for the kind of one pot mess cookery I do, but for baking - so I am reliably informed - quantities should be exact or the whole thing ends in tears.

So anyhoo … You'll need two bowls to start this off.
In the first bowl, combine 2 cups of plain flour, 2 teaspoons of baking soda, half a teaspoon of crushed cloves (yay me for actually doing some work … I pounded the crap out of the cloves), half a teaspoon of ginger and one teaspoon of cinnamon.

Mix all that lot together with a fork until it's well blended.

Then comes the fun … molasses! Woohoo!
The word "gloop" comes to mind.

In the second bowl, we find two-thirds of a cup of sunflower oil, one cup of sugar, a quarter of a cup of molasses (yay) and an egg.

Stir all that around until it gets nice and messy …

… and then plop the flour mixture in on top of it.

This bit's fun. Make sure all of that stuff gets well blended into a great big, brown and sticky mess.

And this bit's even more fun!
Rolling little poo-balls between your hands. Yummy!
They need to be about yay big (I'm still rebelling against all of this precise measuring business).

Plop 'em on a buttered baking sheet kinda like this.

We put nine on the first sheet, though that turned out to be a bit crowded so we cut it down after that.

We also patted the tops down with a fork the first time around, but later we didn't bother and they came out even nicer.

Here's another gift from across the water: an oven thermometer.
I'd never needed one before but I am so glad my honeypie brought one over as it turns out my old oven runs too hot. You need to have it set at 350º, which is supposed to be gas mark 4, but it turns out that in my oven that is gas mark three and a third.

These little fellas want to be in there for ten minutes, but after five minutes you reach in and rotate the tray one-eighty degrees to make sure and get them evenly cooked.

And here they are!
Utterly delicious (Phil will vouch for that), cinnamon-and-gingery Shaker Spiced Cookies!
These are completely different to what we in England know as biscuits. Our biscuits are hard and brittle and crunchy, but these US cookies are weirdly soft inside and firm on the outside.

And AMAZING fresh out of the oven!

So … After fifty years, I get to eat my first real cookie! And believe me, they are glorious. I made another batch last weekend and stuck most of them in the freezer for treats.

Enjoy!

This, by the way, is just to clear up any confusion amongst those Johnny Foreigners who asked what a "pinny" is. It is short for "pinafore", and comes in a range of fetching designs, from pictures of asparagus to Soviet slogans.

Your models today are Katie and Dive.

Who's That Girl?

In an attempt to silence the incessant clamour and ballyhoo of the chattering classes of Blogville with regards to my girlfriend, I have decided to relent and post some photos of her.

Well okay, perhaps the clamour and the ballyhoo has not been incessant, but at least some of you have asked, and my good neighbour Robyn emailed me, curious as to whether my girl lives in Blogville and what her name is.

Anyhoo … Here are a few photos to help clear matters up.

Hokay, so maybe that's not the best-composed photo I've ever taken.

This is her right hand.
Like this foal, creatures great and small flock to her (much to mum's annoyance … Having tried unsuccessfully for years to stop Fern running away from her, she was somewhat miffed to hear that the very first time my girlfriend visited the Divery and opened the car door, Fern came running up to nuzzle her … hee hee).

These are her feet. Mmmmmmm …

And here they are again, climbing Ranworth Church tower.

And all of her at Wells-Next-The-Sea.

Here she is admiring the houses in Blythburgh.

And wandering through the village of Happisburgh.

Taking photos in Happisburgh churchyard.

Sitting on a bench in my back garden … er …

At Blickling Hall.

And here are the two of us relaxing on the pier after a hard day's promenading around Southwold.

So now you know.

What's Cooking With Dive? Gourmet USA

So we've cooked some of the finest dishes from all around the world and now it's time for the US of Ay to give up its culinary secrets.

Last time out we made an utterly glorious, deliciously fatty cream-fest clam chowder; this time we shall be concentrating more on simple US health food.

The reputation of the US in the rest of the world has suffered appallingly (and rightly so) at the filthy hands of McD, KFC, Pizza Hut et al. and even last week's yummy recipe took that most healthy of foods - shellfish - and added around four million calories per serving.

So let's get simple.

Let's get healthy.

Of all the gifts the New World has given to the Old - jazz (yay), Garrison Keillor (yay, aussi), great cheesy movies, jello, fizzy drinks made almost entirely from burnt sugar, Cheez-Whiz™, Hostess Twinkies™, marshmallow Fluff™, Krispy Kremes™ … we're talking about one of the few that deserve our heartfelt thanks:

Maize.

"Indian corn".

It bears no resemblance to "corn" as we know it in the rest of the world, yet this mouthwateringly delicious, golden, sun-kissed kernel has become the basis for a myriad of healthy, nutritious dishes.

And … er …

Popcorn.

We cannot get proper popcorn in this benighted country.
For decades all we knew of "popcorn" was the horror of those repulsive chunks of polystyrene packaging smothered in "toffee" that were obtainable in cinemas for the cost of a small car.

In the past few years, "microwave popcorn" of sorts has arrived on our shores, but alas and alack - as I found to my cost - it comes in US-sized bags that are too large for my European-sized microwave and simply wedge themselves in there, distressingly unable to turn and thereby produce an unappetising mix of sticky, black, fused charcoal lumps and uncooked kernels with the added attraction when I opened the bag of causing my smoke alarm to throw a shit-fit.

Quite apart from being cuter than a basket of kittens with a ribbon on top, my yummy new girlfriend has provided the answer:
Orville Redenbacher's Gourmet Popping Corn in a "SINGLE SERVING MINI BAG"!

Woohoo!

We emaciated Brits had heard whispered rumour of the legendary Mister Redenbacher but he has proved as elusive over here as Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster and an edible American cheese.

Now I have some in my kitchen!
And being a single serving mini bag, it fits (just) inside my microwave … though it's still a bit like trying to get a Hummer into an English car park.

So … Let's don our pinnies and get cooking.

Here are the ingredients we will need.

First up, carefully peel the transparent outer skin from the bag.

Once it is skinned (you can discard the skin unless you're planning to make a particularly nasty stock), you will find all manner of exciting writing.

The generous Mister Redenbacher - resplendent in a peculiarly fetching polka-dot bow tie - has thoughtfully provided the means for both Englishmen and Spaniards to read about his marvellous product.

Note the helpful little picture explaining how best to listen to your corn popping by cupping one hand to your ear.

And the sensible advice that "Children should not prepare without adult supervision".

On the reverse we learn:
"Do not use the popcorn button."
Which is just as well as my microwave lacks such luxuries.

Also: "Contains Hot Oil and Steam!"
Wow! Two of my favourite ingredients!

So let's pop it in the microwave (taking care to observe and obey the "THIS SIDE UP" label), set the timer for one-and-a-half minutes at full power and let it rip.

Woohoo! The joyful sound of distant machine-gun fire fills the kitchen, gradually lessening in intensity as the combatants succumb to slaughter until by the time it is finished there is only the occasional, desultory shot from the last of the wounded survivors.

Open the door …
And … Golly! What magic is this?
The bag is suddenly as fat as an American!
This really must be the genuine article.

Mmm … The tasty aroma of hot oil and steam.
Be careful as you open the bag, unless you want your fingerprints seared off.

I was not entirely sure what to serve this with, but it mattered not as it is quite delicious on its own (it's the low-salt variety).

As for wine; the enticing "hot corn" taste is perfectly complimented by a robust red. I enjoyed this gourmet repast with a ludicrously expensive 1995 Barolo.

As it says on the packet: Enjoy!

Oh, and please note:
The phrase, "Single Serving Mini Bag" is a US term; it takes this greedy Englishman the best part of a day to get through one of these.

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Apart from being one of the most truly wonderful people on the planet, our Katherine is that rarest of poets, the Real Thing.

More details as soon as they become available.

Dress Up Dive

Hmm … Decisions, decisions …

For the first time since the cretaceous period I actually find myself with a girlfriend.
If we're going to be walking out together it's about time I started looking after my own appearance.

I'm no longer svelte, but balding and saggy in places where saggy should never be seen, and I have the dress sense of of a Goth tramp, whereas my girlfriend is five-ten, willowy, graceful and drop-dead gorgeous, with that long, beautiful auburn hair and glasses 'sexy librarian' thang going on.
I've got my work cut out, dammit!

Realistically, without resorting to plastic surgery and liposuction (though I am regularly torturing myself in the gym and eating ludicrously healthy food … like er … chowder and cookies) I'm going to have to think seriously about my hair and my clothes.

Fortunately for me, my girl is also arty and smarty and has generously left a gallimaufry of miscellaneous arcana all over my house, including a magazine from her neck of the woods that is chock full of splendid fashion advice.

I can take a hint, honeypie.

Right … Let's deal with my distinct lack of hair:

Holy crap! $164 for a full head of "hair and scalp"?
That's a real bargain!
I'm sorely tempted, but do I really want to look that mad-eyed and psychopathic?
That guy is seriously scary!
Brr …

Hokay; so I'll stay balding, but at least I can do something about my clothes.

I've selected a few choice items from the magazine and now I'm asking your advice.

Which of these is "me"?
(Click on 'em for bigger, readable versions).

Which look is guaranteed to impress my new girl?

I trust your opinions implicitly, so do let me know.

There is much more like this in the magazine. If you're lucky I'll post some more another day.

What's Cooking With Dive? Down East Anglia Clam Chowder

Chowdah! Yay!
Time once again to put on your pinnies and join me in the kitchen for another item on our menu of international cuisine.

This time we're heading over the pond to prove that the good ol' US of Ay has given more to the gastronomic world than the vomitous excrescences of viral junk-food, McD, KFC et al.

They've also given us cheez-whiz and Paula Deen's awesomely Elvis-licious "hamburger served between two Krispy-Kreme Do-nuts with a fried egg on top".

And of course the irresistibly creamy lush-fest that is clam chowder.

Just feast your greedy eyes on that!
Yummy!

And yes, Mme, those are your Adelaide coasters we are using. Yay!

So … being a total US cookery virgin, I am basing this on a recipe from "Yankee" magazine, where they call it Down East Clam Chowder.

Dive? Using a recipe? Is the world ending?
Very probably …
But not before we've eaten, so let's get cooking.

To make this more of a transatlantic dish I'm using Italian pancetta instead of the "cubed salt pork" the recipe calls for and some deliciously creamy Jersey Royal potatoes.
As always, all ingredients are organic (except the crackers, dammit).
Plus, we're making it in Brundall from fresh, local clams so I'm changing the title to Down East Anglia Clam Chowder.
Yes, I said "we"; we're cooking for two now. Woohoo!

Right!
Clams!

Pretty little critturs, ain't they?
I love the clattery sound clams make when I stir fry them, but we won't be doing that today.
Today they're going to die of cream poisoning.
The recipe says to watch out for sediment in the bottom of the pan, but that's only if you cook clams without letting them wash themselves first; these guys have been left in clean, slightly salty water overnight so they've spat out any sand they may have had left inside their tummies.

Jersey Royal potatoes. I know they're expensive, especially the organic ones, but this is a creamy dish and these are the creamiest potatoes on the planet.
So duh!

And yes, I do know the one in the middle is an onion, thank you.

Hokay … Let's rattle those clams into a nice pot and give them a cup full of filtered water to bathe in.
Then pop the lid on, nice and tight, bring the water to the boil and cook 'em for a few minutes.

The recipe says ten minutes but these local clams are fresh as fresh and were all done in four minutes.
Perfect.
Discard any that are still closed; antisocial clams don't deserve to come to the party.

Pour off and retain the clam liquor (okay, let's get rid of all those "clam licker" schoolboy jokes here. Anyone still giggling gets no dinner).

Aww shucks! … Sorry, I couldn't resist …
Yup … Shuck the little buggers. Or, better still, get your pretty girlfriend to do it for you while you photograph her. Yay!

Okey-dokey …
So we've got the clams cooked and the bowl of clam liquor all ready; now we shall toss a chopped onion and a handful of diced pancetta into some hot olive oil and sweat the whole mess down to release all of that lovely fat.

Mmmmmmmmm … Fat …
I've said it before and I'll say it again: lean meat is simply an exercise in chewing; the flavour is in the fat. And this dish is so full of flavour.

Once the onion is transparent and the pancetta has sweated out, decant the lot into the big pot , add the clam liquor and the rough chopped potatoes and bring to the boil, adding just enough (not too much) water to cover the potatoes, and simmer until the potatoes are tender.

Now you want to add two cups of milk and two cups of cream (single cream - what the Yanquis call "haff'n'haff" - or evaporated milk)
Let that settle into a nice comfortable simmer.

Add the clams and a big ol' wodge of unsalted Irish butter and simmer for a couple more minutes until the butter is melted and the clams achieve perfection.

Do NOT bring to the boil unless you like tough, chewy clams and do NOT add salt unless you like everything to taste of salt and then die of a heart attack.
Believe me, there is sufficient cream and fat in this dish to bring on a good heart attack without spoiling the flavour with salt.

Dish it up! Woohoo!
Serve with genuine Westminster all natural Oyster Crackers and a chilled white wine - we used a chardonnay-chenin blend to cut through the fat.

This is simply awesomely creamy and delicious. We made enough for four and ate the lot.

Enjoy!

What I Did On My Blog Holiday

Got sunburn

Learned how to make eggs over easy

Ate stuff

Drank beer

And tea

Acted my shoe-size

Made chowdah! (post coming soon)

Baked cookies (ditto)

Fell in love

Quitter™

Welcome to Quitter™, a wonderful new anti-social messaging service where you can keep friends and family really annoyed with irritating little messages about what you're doing.

"I'm typing this".

Whoop di doo!

Actually, I'm having a great time. Thanks to those who asked.
I hope you're all having an utterly splendid time, too.
If you're not, you should try switching off your TV and your computer.
It works for me.

Toodle-pip.