Despite feeling the wrong side of peckish quite a few times over the last couple of weeks, the wrong side of squeamish, and the wrong side of really-wanting-some-chocolate, I still can't begin to understand the direness and tedium of having to live by rations for so long that you would resort to "Mock Duck". I found this recipe with a mixture of amusement and pity in a book that gathers together recipes from the second world war designed to help people with making do: Marguerite Patten (ed.), We'll Eat Again: A Collection of Recipes from the War Years (London, 1985):
Mock Duck
Spread half a pound of sausagement into a flat layer in a well-greased baking tin or shallow casserole. Top with 8oz grated cooking apples, 8oz grated onion and 1/2 teaspoon dried sage. Add another half a pound of sausagemeat and shape this top layer to look as much like a duck as possible. Cover with well greased paper and bake in the centre of a moderately hot oven.
I'm sure it would really taste quite nice, but it's the complete lack of resemblance to anything like duck, skilful moulding techniques aside, that got me. Mock goose was a variation on the theme, this time alternating layers of potatoes, apples and cheese (not unlike my recipe for a tasty vegetarian dish, see below), this time omitting any reference to skilful shaping. Mind you, this was in a section of the book that is comprised of suggestions from the 'women-folk' of men who were 'having to do their own cooking... now that thousands of wives and mothers are helping in the factories, or evacuated to the country'. So, probably best to keep it simple!
Friday 19 June 2009
My heart will go on
The success story of the ration experiment so far has undoubtedly been heart - both ox and pig - that we have turned into fantastic, dare I say it, even delicious, and very cheap dinners, notwithstanding the rather grizzly process of dealing with them. At the beginning of week two, we scored a couple of slices of ox heart from one of the butchers down at the indoor market, and half a pound of pig liver for about £2.50 in total. Paul took the job of cutting up the heart, discarding valves, fat, membranes and congealed blood (eep), into bitesize chunks, which we then fried after dusting in flour for the basis of a hearty (teehee) stew, with onions, carrots, broccoli and potatoes. The flavour, deglazed from the frying pan with a bit of hot stock, was deep and rich and gave the stew a good brown colour. You do have to cook heart for a good long time to tenderise it, so we left the stew, stirring occasionally for about 2 or 2 and a half hours, with a few bay leaves and other herbs to add some zing. In all honesty, it was just as good as the cheap pot of stew my good ol' mum used to make with braising steak, which itself is quite a rubbery, unpleasant meat if you don't cook it right. Very tasty indeed! And extremely economical, as two large slices of ox heart gives enough meat to serve 3 or 4 people; as we are ridiculous gluttons, we polished it all off ourselves.
A couple of nights later, Paul rustled up a traditional liver and onion dish, which was also very tasty but a bit too rich for me personally. Perhaps we just made too much of the stuff, because a little liver really does go a long way, and it felt like I was eating a massive hunk of pate. Much as I do like a nice bit of pate, half a plateful is probably overkill. Anyway, with the leftover liver, and a bunch of vegetable peelings, we made a killer stock, which was then used to good effect in a beef mince chilli, which used up our meat ration for week two. On the nights in between these meaty feasts, we had more simple fare based around potatoes and vegetables, which actually comes as quite a welcome relief for someone like me who isn't used to eating a lot of red meat. But for the meantime, chicken and seafood are off the menu, the former being far too expensive (if you go down the free range route, and I'm not prepared to start buying tortured chickens) and the latter presumably being a lot more difficult to come by unless you live by the seaside, which unfortunately for the time being, we don't. It is a treat to be able to indulge in a bit of rainbow trout, of which Paul has accumulated a stockpile, every now and then. We also had dinner round at Paul's mum's house one night and she made us egg and chips, which was awesome, although we did break the rules and have two eggs each, when we're really only supposed to have access to one. However, Paul's mum raises chickens, who are going through a laying spree at the moment, so it seems fair enough that we can have a couple of extra ones due to this happy circumstance.
In week 3, I experimented with a great recipe for pig heart that I found online, attractively called "Love in Disguise", which was a bit more labour intensive than the stew (and I had to handle the grizzly business myself this time)but ultimately worth it. Check it out and try it if you dare! For those less au fait with congealed blood, I also came up with a recipe that is a great way to make the most out of new season potatoes and flourishing courgettes, and is pretty light on calories. Take a couple of potatoes, a courgette, a couple of tomatoes, an onion and a few mushrooms, and slice them all reasonably thin. Then, alternately layer each thing in an ovenproof dish three or four times, depending on the size of the dish. After each layer, sprinkle a little salt, pepper, oregano (or other herb of preference), crushed garlic and cooking oil (olive oil if you're allowed it). Finish off with a layer of potato and drizzle with a little more oil; cover the dish with foil and bake for 45minutes to an hour (again depending on dish size) at about 190C. After this time, remove the foil and test if the potatoes are soft. If not, put the foil back on and cook for a little longer. Once the potatoes are soft, take the foil off, sprinkle on some grated cheese and bake it for 5 or 10 minutes more until the cheese is melted and bubbly delicious. Yum, yum. You can basically use any sliceable vegetable for this recipe - butternut squash works really well, for instance - but I would recommend always putting in a bit of tomato as the liquid that comes out of them helps to steam the other layers.
We're having sausages tonight, I'm hungry already!!
A couple of nights later, Paul rustled up a traditional liver and onion dish, which was also very tasty but a bit too rich for me personally. Perhaps we just made too much of the stuff, because a little liver really does go a long way, and it felt like I was eating a massive hunk of pate. Much as I do like a nice bit of pate, half a plateful is probably overkill. Anyway, with the leftover liver, and a bunch of vegetable peelings, we made a killer stock, which was then used to good effect in a beef mince chilli, which used up our meat ration for week two. On the nights in between these meaty feasts, we had more simple fare based around potatoes and vegetables, which actually comes as quite a welcome relief for someone like me who isn't used to eating a lot of red meat. But for the meantime, chicken and seafood are off the menu, the former being far too expensive (if you go down the free range route, and I'm not prepared to start buying tortured chickens) and the latter presumably being a lot more difficult to come by unless you live by the seaside, which unfortunately for the time being, we don't. It is a treat to be able to indulge in a bit of rainbow trout, of which Paul has accumulated a stockpile, every now and then. We also had dinner round at Paul's mum's house one night and she made us egg and chips, which was awesome, although we did break the rules and have two eggs each, when we're really only supposed to have access to one. However, Paul's mum raises chickens, who are going through a laying spree at the moment, so it seems fair enough that we can have a couple of extra ones due to this happy circumstance.
In week 3, I experimented with a great recipe for pig heart that I found online, attractively called "Love in Disguise", which was a bit more labour intensive than the stew (and I had to handle the grizzly business myself this time)but ultimately worth it. Check it out and try it if you dare! For those less au fait with congealed blood, I also came up with a recipe that is a great way to make the most out of new season potatoes and flourishing courgettes, and is pretty light on calories. Take a couple of potatoes, a courgette, a couple of tomatoes, an onion and a few mushrooms, and slice them all reasonably thin. Then, alternately layer each thing in an ovenproof dish three or four times, depending on the size of the dish. After each layer, sprinkle a little salt, pepper, oregano (or other herb of preference), crushed garlic and cooking oil (olive oil if you're allowed it). Finish off with a layer of potato and drizzle with a little more oil; cover the dish with foil and bake for 45minutes to an hour (again depending on dish size) at about 190C. After this time, remove the foil and test if the potatoes are soft. If not, put the foil back on and cook for a little longer. Once the potatoes are soft, take the foil off, sprinkle on some grated cheese and bake it for 5 or 10 minutes more until the cheese is melted and bubbly delicious. Yum, yum. You can basically use any sliceable vegetable for this recipe - butternut squash works really well, for instance - but I would recommend always putting in a bit of tomato as the liquid that comes out of them helps to steam the other layers.
We're having sausages tonight, I'm hungry already!!
Sunday 7 June 2009
A delectable menu so far
We dove right in at the deep end on our first day, having kidney caesar salad for dinner. We actually had a rather plentiful meat ration this week; after a pre-ration barbeque while the weather was still glorious, there were a number (10) of leftover sausages, which we estimated having a cost of £4.00, and we complemented this with a couple of pig kidneys, 200g of mince beef, and a small bit of black pudding (one of Paul's favourites), bringing us up to around the £6.50 mark.
So, kidney caesar salad: this basically consisted of sliced kidney, mushrooms and onions, fried in a little cooking oil, garlic and worcester sauce, and then strewn over a plateful of round lettuce and given a dash or two of caesar salad dressing, which we had left over and is now, sadly, gone. Despite the rather unpleasant smell - akin to a portable toilet at Glastonbury - that filled our kitchen as the kidneys were frying, this was a really tasty meal. I can appreciate that the texture of kidneys wouldn't be for everyone, but I found it quite dense and smooth with a really deep flavour, with which the caesar dressing worked surprisingly well. Paul is an avowed fan of kidneys, although I suspect this has a lot to do with the images of James Joyce they help him to conjure, and he didn't seem to mind the smell at all, so I'll leave the kidney cooking to him in future. Rhubarb crumble for pudding also made a dent in the sugar allowance.
The following two days we had variations on the theme of sausage and mash; firstly, a classic version, with carrots and gravy, then a Jamie Oliver inspired recipe of roast sausage and tomatoes, with potato and swede mash, which was a truly magnificent way to satisfy our by now very hungry bellies. Paul's not big on breakfast and lunch generally, but I had been finding it quite difficult to get through the day on a couple of bits of bread with jam and the odd apple. So, the warm mountain of comforting sausage and mash with sweet tomato juices was incredibly satisfying.
We took a break from the meat on Wednesday, with a steamed trout, which Paul caught with his own bare hands, a fishing rod, reel, line etc etc etc, a few runner beans and mashed cabbage. The next night, I had to stay late at the university so I resolved to struggle through on the bread, jam and apple diet, although I did succumb to a couple of biscuits that were floating around the office, leftover from the History PG conference we had last week. I worked very hard organising the conference so I feel justified in enjoying the spoils every once in a while. Paul, meanwhile, had a much-coveted bacon sandwich, taking care to save a suitable number of rashers for our Saturday morning sarnie.
Friday's dinner was my legendary lasagne, which used up the last of our margarine, the last four pasta sheets that will pass our lips until this experiment is over, and the mince, which we stretched out by adding more than usual of grated carrot, chopped onion, and a courgette, which are just coming into season, though our own courgette plant is still in its infancy. Perhaps unwisely, we had a very naughty bacon AND egg sandwich each for our breakfast on Saturday morning. With hindsight, we probably should have saved the eggs for Sunday brunch or something, but it set us up well for an afternoon spent watching the rugby in the pub. This is one area we're unsure of quite what we're allowed to do and it warrants further investigation - to pub or not to pub during World War Two? My instincts, as a historian who studies all things related to alcohol in Latin America, tell me that the pub was an important social gathering place in wartime Britain, probably more so for men than for women, although it is difficult to know how much booze was being consumed. Presumably money was tight for most people, but then beer was a lot cheaper in those days, and I assume largely locally produced and distributed too. Until we find out more (and pointers from anyone would be extremely welcome), we'll stick to the homebrew at home, and at the pub, we'll only order locally produced stuff that hasn't been anywhere near an import-export office. Which is a shame, as I am quite partial to a nice San Miguel...
Anyway, back to the week's menu: after our extended stay in the pub, we made pizza with mushrooms, tomatoes, onions and basil, and the last of our cheddar. Knowing we would be starving when we got home from the pub, I cunningly made the pizza dough earlier in the afternoon so it would be ready to go. And that brings the first seven days to a close!
Next week's menu is scheduled to include ox heart and pig liver... I might dig the camera out for those ones!
So, kidney caesar salad: this basically consisted of sliced kidney, mushrooms and onions, fried in a little cooking oil, garlic and worcester sauce, and then strewn over a plateful of round lettuce and given a dash or two of caesar salad dressing, which we had left over and is now, sadly, gone. Despite the rather unpleasant smell - akin to a portable toilet at Glastonbury - that filled our kitchen as the kidneys were frying, this was a really tasty meal. I can appreciate that the texture of kidneys wouldn't be for everyone, but I found it quite dense and smooth with a really deep flavour, with which the caesar dressing worked surprisingly well. Paul is an avowed fan of kidneys, although I suspect this has a lot to do with the images of James Joyce they help him to conjure, and he didn't seem to mind the smell at all, so I'll leave the kidney cooking to him in future. Rhubarb crumble for pudding also made a dent in the sugar allowance.
The following two days we had variations on the theme of sausage and mash; firstly, a classic version, with carrots and gravy, then a Jamie Oliver inspired recipe of roast sausage and tomatoes, with potato and swede mash, which was a truly magnificent way to satisfy our by now very hungry bellies. Paul's not big on breakfast and lunch generally, but I had been finding it quite difficult to get through the day on a couple of bits of bread with jam and the odd apple. So, the warm mountain of comforting sausage and mash with sweet tomato juices was incredibly satisfying.
We took a break from the meat on Wednesday, with a steamed trout, which Paul caught with his own bare hands, a fishing rod, reel, line etc etc etc, a few runner beans and mashed cabbage. The next night, I had to stay late at the university so I resolved to struggle through on the bread, jam and apple diet, although I did succumb to a couple of biscuits that were floating around the office, leftover from the History PG conference we had last week. I worked very hard organising the conference so I feel justified in enjoying the spoils every once in a while. Paul, meanwhile, had a much-coveted bacon sandwich, taking care to save a suitable number of rashers for our Saturday morning sarnie.
Friday's dinner was my legendary lasagne, which used up the last of our margarine, the last four pasta sheets that will pass our lips until this experiment is over, and the mince, which we stretched out by adding more than usual of grated carrot, chopped onion, and a courgette, which are just coming into season, though our own courgette plant is still in its infancy. Perhaps unwisely, we had a very naughty bacon AND egg sandwich each for our breakfast on Saturday morning. With hindsight, we probably should have saved the eggs for Sunday brunch or something, but it set us up well for an afternoon spent watching the rugby in the pub. This is one area we're unsure of quite what we're allowed to do and it warrants further investigation - to pub or not to pub during World War Two? My instincts, as a historian who studies all things related to alcohol in Latin America, tell me that the pub was an important social gathering place in wartime Britain, probably more so for men than for women, although it is difficult to know how much booze was being consumed. Presumably money was tight for most people, but then beer was a lot cheaper in those days, and I assume largely locally produced and distributed too. Until we find out more (and pointers from anyone would be extremely welcome), we'll stick to the homebrew at home, and at the pub, we'll only order locally produced stuff that hasn't been anywhere near an import-export office. Which is a shame, as I am quite partial to a nice San Miguel...
Anyway, back to the week's menu: after our extended stay in the pub, we made pizza with mushrooms, tomatoes, onions and basil, and the last of our cheddar. Knowing we would be starving when we got home from the pub, I cunningly made the pizza dough earlier in the afternoon so it would be ready to go. And that brings the first seven days to a close!
Next week's menu is scheduled to include ox heart and pig liver... I might dig the camera out for those ones!
Friday 5 June 2009
The Ration List
In a nutshell, here's what 2 adults were (and in our case, are) allowed for one week:
200g bacon/ham
2s. 4d worth of meat (after some consultation with rather hazy historians, this roughly translates as £6.50)
100g butter
200g margarine
200g cooking fat
200g cheese
6 pints milk
2 eggs
450g sugar
100g jam (distributed every 2 months in larger quantities)
1 packet dried egg (every fortnight)
150g sweets
30 teabags
In addition, each month, you could use allocated points to choose from:
one can of meat or fish
900g dried fruit
3.6kg of split peas/lentils/dried beans
Things like potatoes, vegetables and bread were not rationed; bread was often quite scarce, however, and people were mostly encouraged to grow their own potatoes and vegetables. As our vegetable patch is really too small to support us for a significant amount of time, we've decided as long as it's seasonal, British produce we can have it (fortunately it is summer!). Also, 1 bought loaf of bread and 1 homemade batch of bread will constitute our bread ration for a week.
I'll also confess that for the first few days, we'll be having a few cheeky extras. It's perhaps not wildly unrealistic to imagine that when rationing began, people had a few bits and bobs lying around the pantry that were then used sparingly until they ran out. Well, we have half a jar of mayonnaise in the fridge, a few almost empty jars of salad dressing, horseradish sauce and the like, and a few lasagne sheets lying around that might just offer a welcome home for the first week's ration of minced beef... They're perishable things (barring the lasagne), so in the spirit of "making do", we're hardly going to let them go to waste!
200g bacon/ham
2s. 4d worth of meat (after some consultation with rather hazy historians, this roughly translates as £6.50)
100g butter
200g margarine
200g cooking fat
200g cheese
6 pints milk
2 eggs
450g sugar
100g jam (distributed every 2 months in larger quantities)
1 packet dried egg (every fortnight)
150g sweets
30 teabags
In addition, each month, you could use allocated points to choose from:
one can of meat or fish
900g dried fruit
3.6kg of split peas/lentils/dried beans
Things like potatoes, vegetables and bread were not rationed; bread was often quite scarce, however, and people were mostly encouraged to grow their own potatoes and vegetables. As our vegetable patch is really too small to support us for a significant amount of time, we've decided as long as it's seasonal, British produce we can have it (fortunately it is summer!). Also, 1 bought loaf of bread and 1 homemade batch of bread will constitute our bread ration for a week.
I'll also confess that for the first few days, we'll be having a few cheeky extras. It's perhaps not wildly unrealistic to imagine that when rationing began, people had a few bits and bobs lying around the pantry that were then used sparingly until they ran out. Well, we have half a jar of mayonnaise in the fridge, a few almost empty jars of salad dressing, horseradish sauce and the like, and a few lasagne sheets lying around that might just offer a welcome home for the first week's ration of minced beef... They're perishable things (barring the lasagne), so in the spirit of "making do", we're hardly going to let them go to waste!
Wednesday 3 June 2009
Can we dorito-loving, maltesophiles survive a month on Second World War rations?
During a typical, sunblushed, late-afternoon chat chez Debbie and Paul, we happened upon the notion of living by World War Two rations for a while. Our beer-fuelled discussions quite often take strange detours, and more times than not, any wild ideas remain forgotten amongst the ruins of our hangover, or postponed indefinitely. This one really caught our imagination though and after a small amount of internet research, asking around, and book hunting, we decided to give it a go.
It's difficult to pinpoint a reason why we wanted to do this, or why it even occurred to us in the first place. We're both a bit more self-indulgent than we'd like to be, I suppose, and for a while we've been trying to cut back on the luxuries but the desire for some maltesers or cheezy doritos in the middle of a film, a Battlestar fest or just at the end of a long day, is tricky to ignore when the One Stop shop 100 yards away is open until 11pm. So having a reason, albeit a completely contrived one, to say no to these impulses was quite attractive.
But I think we stumbled across the topic in conversation while thinking about the wasteful, lazy and abstract nature of many people's relationship to food in the twenty-first century. As a rule, we have been generally quite good in this respect, notwithstanding the odd takeaway and aforementioned habit to resort to maltesers and doritos. Paul grew up in a family that raised a lot of their own fruit and vegetables, as well as chickens for fresh eggs, and since moving to a house with a big garden in Coventry, I've been cultivating a small vegetable patch as well, having a decent crop of potatoes, onions, courgettes, leeks and broad beens for the last couple of years (see the pictures!!). And, by and large, we do a lot of creative cooking: my specialities include lasagne, various risottos, and Mexican food, while Paul is particularly good at stews, pasta dishes, roast chicken with lemon, and pizza (the less said about his attempt to make a lasagna-type thing with chinese noodles the better). We tend to get outraged in a fairly middle-class way when we watch those television programmes where Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall or Jamie Oliver or someone is trying to teach a bunch of resistant, hostile people how to boil potatoes or gut a fish or simply try something new. In fact, I think we both feel a powerful attraction to their self-sufficient lifestyle (ironically made feasible by their pre-existing wealth); growing crops, raising animals, finding wild produce, generally being outside a lot, that kind of thing. So, we're certainly interested in many different aspects of food: most obviously, eating it, but also finding out where it comes from, how it is produced, how to cook it, ways to get the most out of it, and maybe even what it means to people. To us, it seemed that during World War Two, most people probably found out a lot of answers to these questions because they had to in order to stay healthy and survive. And following their lead, through choice rather than necessity, seemed like a good way to begin finding out more answers ourselves.
It's difficult to pinpoint a reason why we wanted to do this, or why it even occurred to us in the first place. We're both a bit more self-indulgent than we'd like to be, I suppose, and for a while we've been trying to cut back on the luxuries but the desire for some maltesers or cheezy doritos in the middle of a film, a Battlestar fest or just at the end of a long day, is tricky to ignore when the One Stop shop 100 yards away is open until 11pm. So having a reason, albeit a completely contrived one, to say no to these impulses was quite attractive.
But I think we stumbled across the topic in conversation while thinking about the wasteful, lazy and abstract nature of many people's relationship to food in the twenty-first century. As a rule, we have been generally quite good in this respect, notwithstanding the odd takeaway and aforementioned habit to resort to maltesers and doritos. Paul grew up in a family that raised a lot of their own fruit and vegetables, as well as chickens for fresh eggs, and since moving to a house with a big garden in Coventry, I've been cultivating a small vegetable patch as well, having a decent crop of potatoes, onions, courgettes, leeks and broad beens for the last couple of years (see the pictures!!). And, by and large, we do a lot of creative cooking: my specialities include lasagne, various risottos, and Mexican food, while Paul is particularly good at stews, pasta dishes, roast chicken with lemon, and pizza (the less said about his attempt to make a lasagna-type thing with chinese noodles the better). We tend to get outraged in a fairly middle-class way when we watch those television programmes where Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall or Jamie Oliver or someone is trying to teach a bunch of resistant, hostile people how to boil potatoes or gut a fish or simply try something new. In fact, I think we both feel a powerful attraction to their self-sufficient lifestyle (ironically made feasible by their pre-existing wealth); growing crops, raising animals, finding wild produce, generally being outside a lot, that kind of thing. So, we're certainly interested in many different aspects of food: most obviously, eating it, but also finding out where it comes from, how it is produced, how to cook it, ways to get the most out of it, and maybe even what it means to people. To us, it seemed that during World War Two, most people probably found out a lot of answers to these questions because they had to in order to stay healthy and survive. And following their lead, through choice rather than necessity, seemed like a good way to begin finding out more answers ourselves.
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