I was watching old Heston Blumenthal twatting about with Spaghetti Bolognaise the other night. Watching him attempt to make his perfect version of this gnarly old dish had me torn. On one hand I learnt something. Adding star anise and fish sauce will up your umami count, making the whole thing meatier. Cool, I can cope with that, nice one Heston. On the other hand was the 12 hour cooking time and endless stages of preparation which frankly was bordering on the Monty Pythonesque. Watching the entire series has had me lurching from furious scribbling in my notebook to throwing the notebook at the screen in disgusted resignation. Still, beats watching Nigella Lawson ooze across the screen in that ever so slightly soft core porn lighting they seem to insist upon when filming her.
I don't pretend to have a single percentage point of Mr Blumenthal's cooking expertise, but it got me thinking as to which of the dishes I cook I would consider perfect. A dish that I make that really can't be improved upon. One that kicks ass every time I make it. The answer is I make the perfect sausage and mash. I really do. The perfect combination of silky creamy mash, perfectly cooked butcher's sausages and sweetly fragrant onion gravy. I am a master. It's at this point if I was getting paid for this I would give you the recipe, but then again, it's my perfect version and you'd probably end up throwing your mouse at the screen in disgust if I did. So, you'll gave to take my word for it. It's perfect, it really is.
I don't pretend to have a single percentage point of Mr Blumenthal's cooking expertise, but it got me thinking as to which of the dishes I cook I would consider perfect. A dish that I make that really can't be improved upon. One that kicks ass every time I make it. The answer is I make the perfect sausage and mash. I really do. The perfect combination of silky creamy mash, perfectly cooked butcher's sausages and sweetly fragrant onion gravy. I am a master. It's at this point if I was getting paid for this I would give you the recipe, but then again, it's my perfect version and you'd probably end up throwing your mouse at the screen in disgust if I did. So, you'll gave to take my word for it. It's perfect, it really is.
7 comments:
well, if you wont give us the recipe, you'll just have to make it for me one day, because it certainly looks perfect, I am not going to argue with you.
Could you at least give us a hint to how you cook those sausages to the point of browned, crisp collapse?
Beautiful. Ya braggart.
I suspect, unlike the flirtatious foodie Nigella, you refrain from duck fat smearing whilst enjoying yourself on a saturday afternoon. Down here in Brighton, we need the stuff to keep out the sea breeze... and other things.
Guessing the sausage are oven-cooked and turned a few times during the cooking?
PS - the word verification appears to e spelling out "nut wassock" when said aloud, so I am now in possession of a splendid new insult too. I love your blog :D
Too bad I've left the UK foodblogging scene - otherwise I could have maybe attended a future "perfect sausage & mash" event at your place:)
Looks good.
Saus and mash is a classic and yours looks the biz. I would guess worcestershire sauce is involved somewhere down the line.
Re: Nigella. Do you think she's got really bad skin or sommit? I've often wondered about the lighting. It's like Posh Beckham, I hear it on good authority that the Real Madrid dressing room christened her La Luna because of the pockmarks and acne that mysteriously don't apear in Hello Magazine once per month. Maybe Nigella's been eating too many crisps and vindaloos.
I suggest a potluck for the next blogger moot...
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