Well, last night we had a wonderful dinner at the Gala Ball. Three generous courses interspersed with entertainment, much wine and beer that made for a good night to be had by all.

This morning we slept late and made our way downstairs for a leisurely breakfast in the hotel’s restaurant. The cooked fair is always a good bet and savouring the taste and smell of the cooked bacon and delicate scrambled eggs is a wonderful thing if you are feeling somewhat seedy. I truly pity those who have lost their sense of smell as a good deal of the flavour of food is tied up with the volatile chemicals that enable you to appreciate the deliciousness of having your olfactory organs stimulated.

All was well in my little world until a family of four came into the restaurant.

The waitress showed the family past our table and on further into the restaurant. Nothing untoward with this? No, except for the fact that the Mother of the family must have marinated herself in a perfume that was quite poisonous. Seemingly oblivious, it trailed behind her like a cloud of radioactive fallout. Does your family not notice either?

It is 8:30 am, why do you need to smell of something so strong that it overpowers the taste of everyone’s breakfast? The stench lingered for a good five minutes in the air around me. I was grateful that she wasn’t sat at the next table as the poor unfortunates in such a position would have struggled to taste anything other than this woman’s perfume. Why? Do you really need to make yourself stink that much, to the extent that it is offensive to others around you? Is it the smell, or the burning of my eyes? Even my coffee tasted of that artificial pong.

I know that if you wear perfume regularly that your nose becomes accustomed to the smell and you don’t notice it so much. But please, this is a case of less, or better yet, none is more. If you are going out to eat, remember that not everyone likes that strong, cloying aroma of someone elses perfume (or aftershave for that matter). I want to taste my bacon and scrambled eggs or pancakes with maple syrup cleanly. Go use soap if you think you may be stinky. Eat outside near the smokers, they won’t notice, but please, don’t spoil my pleasure, it’s inconsiderate and somewhat rude and I will hate you for it.

Don’t get me started on confined spaces like elevators either…

Sheesh.

kind regards,

J

Prepped and ready to go...

Overnight rain has a wonderful sound on a tin roof when you are curled up in bed all warm and snuggled. It’s too wet to play outside in the garden today, so my attention moves to what’s for dinner…

I have two smoked pork bellies in the fridge. One was brined with thyme and pepper, the other was marinated in honey and soy before both were smoked for hours over grape vine clippings.

I have a wonderful english translation of a french cook book by Stephane Reynaud titled “Pork and Sons”. Great porkie goodness is contained within its voluminous pages. Tonight however, Neil Perry’s recommended  “Sichuan Cookery by Fuchsia Dunlop” has caught my attention. Stephane can wait for a later post regarding rillettes, pate and confit…

I was reading through Fuchsia’s book and came across Red Braised Pork or Hong Shao Rou, and felt a bit of inspiration coming on. What have I got in the pantry?

So, the honey soy belly was cut up into decent sized chunks and quickly stir-fried in a good slug of peanut oil. Then minced ginger, spring onions, dark soy, Shaoxing wine, stock, fresh shiitake mushrooms, a wee bit of brown sugar and a star anise were mixed in together and left to barely simmer for two hours on the top of the stove. The liquid reduces down to an almost syrupy glaze and is fabulous served with stir-fried veggies and rice.

Hot and ready to eat Hong Shao Rou with stir fried veggies and brown steamed rice.

The thunder started not long after I commenced cooking, and the sweet smell of spiced pork filled the kitchen. I’m deafened by the heavy rain on the roof now, but satisfied that even if the power goes out, dinner shall be served by the glow of the log fire.

Kind regards,

J