Day 37: Coming clean

Old Alan Clark has really got me thinking these past few days. Today I read an article about what makes a great diarist. As well as a few kind words about AC, it discussed the differences between a blog and a diary. I have hundreds of notebooks that (were someone deranged enough, stalking me or being paid enough to do so) if assembled would cover the last fifteen years of my life, in a series of small bursts of activity, most of it drink-fuelled, interspersed with long gaps of perhaps years at a time. I am not a good diarist, because I am not committed enough.

I have been fairly committed to the blog but there are things I can’t say that I might in my own diary. I am sure I could come up with some wonderfully derisory descriptions of my fellow students (very few of them would merit this, incidentally) but sharing a kitchen with them the next day would not be pleasant. And I am, believe it or not, just not that rude. I began under the pseudonym Sebastian Green (kindly chosen for me for another purpose entirely), but as the weeks have rolled by it is quite clear to anyone sad enough to give a shit, who I am. If I upset the school enough with my ramblings on here, they’d know who to look for. So I am outing myself, so to speak.

I finally decided to do so when this photo was taken: Monkfish and I. Beyond question one of the most hideous, ungainly, prehistoric, slimy, pungent and unpleasant creatures ever to grace the planet. Holding a monkfish. I was getting to grips with the little bastard for a delicious fish curry. First of all I gauged his cheeks out, since they are very fleshy. Whilst doing so, all manner of generic slime and detritus oozes from the fish’s many orifices. But there was clearly something foreign in his enormous mouth. I soon realised it was a crab he had evidently been planning to eat just before being bagged for my curry. After the cheeks, I removed his head, which isn't strictly necessary, but I was becoming genuinely repulsed by it. (In the photo below you will see his beady little eyes, just above where I have removed the flesh from his cheeks and the dead crab that was to be his last meal. Nice). I cut the tail, or leg, into its two halves, with my knife running tight to the spine. The outer skin can be pulled away with the hand (it is grotesquely slippery) but leaves the meat with another layer on. This membrane will tighten and contract in cooking so needs to be completely removed. There is a knack to this, cutting the tail into chunks, turning the blade when you reach the skin and sliding the meat off. It came as quite a relief to finish this whole operation and cast his remains into the hens’ bucket. The pressure to make the process worthwhile and actually turn him into a fragrant, robust curry was tangible.

Before the curry I atoned for my choux pastry disaster by knocking up some profiteroles. I learnt from Friday’s mistakes and paid really close attention to the consistency of the panade. I didn’t pay much attention to the piping, since I wasn't presenting the pastry, just making it. I had planned to make a choux pastry cock and balls for amusement, but thought better of it. I’ll leave that to the professionals.

The curry itself is a great recipe. Shallots, ginger and chilli are sautéed in coconut oil, with turmeric, chilli powder, ground coriander and sugar added as they brown, followed shortly after by coconut milk and tamarind water. The monkfish pieces are then poached in the sauce. Meanwhile you knock up a tempering of coconut oil, curry leaves and black mustard seeds, which you add to the dish just before serving. All ingredients you will have knocking around in your cupboards at home I am sure…

All in all, cooking went well today. My dishes were good, particularly the curry, which delighted me since I especially wanted to do the recipe (and the monkfish) justice. Actually, I might have improved it. It stipulates green chillies. I tasted them before putting them in, but they had no heat at all. So I added red ones instead, on the basis that flavour was more important than colour in this instance. It was. And it looked better too. Apparently I could have seasoned the fish before poaching it in the curry. This is not in the recipe, but I am told we need to think for ourselves. (Having been told for five weeks that the recipe is always right and never to question it). Maybe next time.

I shouldn’t say this, because pride comes before a fall and all that, but things are looking up for the week. An early night, a bit of time on the recipes and everything turned out all right. Could be something in that. Only one more day of cooking this week since we have theory tomorrow and Friday is the halfway point in the course, which heralds a scary sounding Herb and Technique Exam. After my morning’s run in with the crab crunching monkfish, I feel like taking on the world, so a few lettuce leaves and sprigs of parsley don’t frighten me. Not now I’ve seen off that Sebastian Green guy, anyway. Poxy little runt.