Saturday 22 December 2012

Kev Eadie - XXX Jalapeno, Chilli & Mozzarella Omelette


Kev Eadie is a Leeds-based comic and dangerous recluse. This is the chilling photo of himself he sent me. The rest of the recipe speaks for itself.



If you only perform one ritual which involves sharp knives and fire over the next few days, I’d like to strongly recommend you make it this one. There’s a song by The Black Crowes entitled ‘Come On’, which I find is ideal for bringing some vim and gusto to the execution of most culinary wrist-based activities. This recipe has a sizeable amount of such things. Namely: chopping, beating, bottle-shaking, frying pan and spatula control. If your ‘housemate’ hasn’t changed the bin in a while and your kitchen is turning into a landfill, you might even get the chance to swat a fly or two. Or if it’s getting really bad, spank a vagrant goat. Either that or you could stop masking your procrastination with principles, grab a bottle of bleach and purge the putridity out of that festering, filthy hovel you call a house.
So, I recommend The Black Crowes, or perhaps ‘Custard’s Last Stand’ by Ugly Custard, as the soundtrack whilst cooking.

The ingestion of these goods could make your eyes water. If this is the case, why not try eating in-front of a mirror? I like to do this, as it allows me to imagine I am having an emotional break up with myself, over breakfast. More specifically, that I am my intellect, breaking up with my physical self.

Whilst initially this creates a profoundly painful sense of imminent loss, towards the final mouthfuls you will get a glimpse of a brighter future – one in which you will no longer have your body pestering you all day long to help feed, clothe and bathe it. Just think, at last you will be able to live a life entirely devoted to intellectual pursuits! Then at the crucial moment, you realise how difficult it must be for a disembodied intellect to turn book pages or fill in crosswords and you immediately apologise to your flesh and bone. You need each other after all. Now is a good moment to offer your body a sexual favour before it packs and leaves. Yes, as an intellect, I’m sure you would prefer to write your body a letter explaining your thoughts and feelings. But as all bodies are illiterate, this act would probably just come across as insensitive. Just buck up, put some erotica on the cerebral silver screen and let your body look on and pleasure itself like the animal it is.
Finally, if getting your ingredients from Tesco, consider spicing up a mundane outing with a sprinkle of honour and see how many items you can obtain through the art of petty theft. Loose chilli peppers. Self-service checkouts. You know. Every little helps.

Contents
A tablespoon of butter/margarine
3 eggs (this is why it’s called ‘XXX’, not because it’s spicy, could feed 30 Romans or is ‘very cross’)
25 drops of Tabasco pepper sauce
Lots of peppers
A jalapeno pepper, chopped (knife or karate, either method is fine)
A red chilli pepper, chopped (“)
A ball of Mozzarella, chopped (“)

¬) Wash your hands thoroughly (front, back, palms, knuckles, in-between fingers, wrists) and pat them dry to avoid erosion of the skin. Ensure the kitchen is so clean that it would strike concern for your psychological well-being in the mind of a caring and/or intrusive friend.
!) Heat the frying pan with fire and flick (yes, flick: remember that this recipe is as wrist-heavy as a rampant badminton match) the grill to ‘on’.
“) Fling the butter/margarine into the pan and allow it to melt whilst you crack the eggs into a bowl.
£) Add the Tabasco and lots of pepper to the egg and give it all a good beating with a fork.
$) Once the butter/margarine is bubbling and popping furiously, empty the capsicum-cum-egg (yep, there’s ‘cum’ in the recipe - titters (now there’s ‘tit’ in the recipe – cachinnates (in the futile hope that an affected use of vocabulary can divert attention from the unrefined humour it led to in the first place))) mixture on top of it and ensure it spreads evenly around the pan.
%) Once you can see that a ‘base’ to the omelette has formed, but the top part is still runny, sling in the jalapeno and other chilli pepper and top with a few slices of the cheese.
^) Get it under the grill and allow it to rise. This can take a few minutes. What you may like to do at this point is to see how much saliva you can produce by slipping into a vivid reverie in which you concoct abstract flavours in your head. For example: What would the bark of a willow tree taste like, if a willow tree could smile? And what would an August in Tuscany taste like, if it were plaited?
&) Okay, your omelette should be risen and lightly browned. It should look like an off-cut of Humpty Dumpty’s cellulite in a shallow puddle of buttery rain. If it just looks like an omelette though, don’t be alarmed, that is fine also. Glide it over from frying pan to plate, assisting with a spatula as necessary and bung it in your gob.
*) After consumption, get on your knees and clean your kitchen. And do it properly this time.

Saturday 15 December 2012

Callum Scott - Christmas Chutney and Coffee Syrup

I'm a Leeds comic who runs this blog. I also run Pigeon Hole Comedy.


Like this post wasn't mawkish enough already...


It's getting cold. Everyone's grumpy. We all need cheering up. Apparently, Christmas isn't enough to cheer some people up. I've even heard that Christmas makes some people even more grumpy. What a load of shit.  I'm personally a big fan of Christmas, and see it as an excuse to abandon my natural cynicism rather than amplify it. We all know Christmas is commercial. So is every other day, but no-one seems to care about this. Well, if you're sick of contributing to the Christmas gift industry, why not make your own Christmas presents? It's cheaper and more heartfelt. Plus, it's a lot easier than people think. These are two Christmassy recipes that, due to their long shelf life, make excellent presents.



The first one is Christmas Chutney. This will keep until March at the earliest if you make it right, and goes well with cold meats, cheese, and poppadoms. It's very rich and looks like something a medieval king would have at Christmas. It's a nice present to give, and people will be grateful for it when every meal includes cold, dry turkey.

Ingredients:

500g mixture of dried fruits (e.g. any number of dried apples, pears, apricots, dates, raisins, prunes, figs, cranberries, sultanas, etc.)
500ml boiling water
250ml red wine vinegar
220g brown sugar
Half a teaspoon of turmeric, chilli powder, nutmeg, cinnamon and ginger (all ground)
Half a clove crushed garlic
Zest of 1 lemon
Salt and pepper

Chop the fruit up into little bits
Boil the dried fruit in the water until it's soft (timing will vary between completely dried and 'ready to eat' dried fruit, but this doesn't matter too much).
Add in all the other ingredients and simmer for about an hour until it's reduced to about the right consistency.
At this point you can leave it as it is, or go in with a potato masher if you want a jammier texture.
Transfer into 2 sterilised jam jars*
They will keep for ages unopened, but it's best to leave it a week or so before consuming to let the flavours infuse more.

*To sterilise a jar, either use a diswasher, or if you don't have one, wash them out with hot water and antibacterial washing up liquid, rinse, and dry in an oven at gas mark 1.

See? That wasn't too hard, was it? This next one's even easier. It's a syrup to put in coffee, like the ones in coffee shops, but Christmas flavour. By which I mean if you put a dash of it in a cup of coffee, that coffee will taste AMAZING AND JUST LIKE CHRISTMAS. Just try it, you'll see what I mean. This is not my recipe, it's from here, but I thought I'd include it because it's brilliant. Not only does it make coffee AMAZING, but you can also use it to make individual glasses of mulled wine. Just pop a dash of it into a glass of wine and heat it on the stove until it's warm. I tried adding this to tea, but the result wasn't as good, to be honest.

Ingredients

500g sugar
500ml water
2 cinnamon sticks
thumb-sized piece of root ginger, peeled and sliced
2-3 cloves
10 allspice berries

Slowly heat the sugar and water together until all the sugar has dissolved.
Add your spices and simmer SLOWLY for half an hour until the mixture has thickened and taken on a red-brown colour.
When you're happy with it, put it in a sterilised bottle, spices and all and leave for 3-5 days (the original recipe said up to 2 weeks, but the ginger will start to get a bit gross).
Strain the ingredients and re-bottle the syrup. As you can see in the picture, I left a cinnamon stick in for aesthetic purposes.

Happy Holidays!

@callumformetal
@the_pigeon_hole
@CookingComics

Monday 3 December 2012

Jon Whiteley: Barbecue Sauce

Jon Whiteley is a Manchester-based comedian who runs the terminally unpopular Jokewood Comedy and co-runs new act night Quip.


This is the picture Jon sent me. I'm not one to question these things.

I can't cook. I've never been able to cook. I haven't the patience to rigidly follow a recipe – nor the flair to go off-script and fashion my own dishes freeform like a culinary Miles Davis (that's the name of a jazz musician, right? Did he improvise much? I can't be arsed opening Wikipedia – just substitute that for John Coltrane if you don't think the simile works).

Education couldn't save me. I was terrible at Home Economics: One time, I made a batch of cheese scones in class that were, on the face of it, fairly successful. The only problem was... I drooled in the scone mix. It wasn't deliberate – I don't usually have this problem. I certainly wasn't sexually aroused by the scone mix. All I know is that I was stirring the mix and a large gob of spit slid from between my lips, plopping gently into the middle of the bowl.

What do you do in that situation? I was too embarrassed to say anything, so I did what any good coward would: I stirred it in to the mix, baked the scones and brought them home to my family, who devoured them gladly.

I can't cook. I'm bad at cooking. I feel it's best to get this out of the way early on.

The recipe I've chosen is one for BBQ sauce, and it's a recipe I've pilfered off my dad. My dad also can't cook. As a younger man, he used to keep MSG in a salt cellar and put it on every meal – you can't buy it from the supermarket any more because loads of people died from abusing it in this way.

I like it because it's flexible. It goes well with any meat and most vegetables, and it's incredibly sweet. And I like sweet things. I'm a pudding man. Fuck savoury.

The Ingredients:
  • 1 Carton Tomato Passata (your favourite brand)
  • Red Wine (your favourite brand)
  • Vinegar
  • ½ Beef stock cube
  • 2 Tbsp. Black Treacle/Fuck Load of Brown Sugar
  • Salt (pinch)
  • Pepper (punch)
  • Paprika (first of the month)

  1. Heat up the Passata in a pan and then put everything else in when it's hot.
  2. I used to use black treacle for this, but you can't get it for love nor money round here (and I've tried both). Brown sugar is an adequate substitute – although it doesn't have quite the same nostalgic flavour and you have to stir it in loads, which is boooooooorring. How much sugar should you use? Enough to even out the red wine and the vinegar (you put too much in, sorry).
  3. Drink the rest of the wine, it's your favourite brand.

There you go – BBQ sauce. Now you've got something to drown your dish of choice in (perhaps another dish from this very blog). Alternatively, why not flop some raw meat about in it – 'marinating' – before cooking and eating it.

Better still, why not go and find another recipe for BBQ sauce. Because like I said at the start – I can't cook.


@whiteleyjon
@jokewoodcomedy
@QuippoFuel

Saturday 1 December 2012

Thom Milson: Poached Eggs on Muffins


Thom Milson is a Leeds-based comic who runs a night called HOWL. Details here



Ingredients:
1 Breakfast Muffin
2 Eggs
2 Rashers of Bacon
1 Clove of Garlic
Salt
Chili Flakes
250g of Softened* Butter
 *leave it out (covered) for a few hours
Okay, so I’m essentially telling you how to cook Eggs Benedict without the Hollandaise Sauce. Hollandaise Sauce is, in my opinion, the epitome of white people food: light, rich and very pretentious. I prefer the simplicity of just egg and bacon. It’s down to earth, and you can eat it differently. Instead of a dainty knife and fork, you pick it up, fold it in half, and let the yolk run down your chin like warm cum. Plus, everytime I try to make Hollandaise sauce I fuck it up.
Before I get started, I want to lay down a couple of ground rules: 1: no cutting corners, 2: no half-arse-ed-ness(?), and 3: no light versions. That is not how you enjoy food. You do it properly or not at all. It’s full-fat-cake or nothing, okay? No diet versions; no sugar free. If you don’t want to get fat or lose your teeth, don’t eat cake. If you don’t like post-meal shame and regret, eat salad.
Anyway, time for the damn recipe.
Directions:
Muffin:
Place the muffin under a grill until golden brown. Turn so that both sides are equal. It helps to put one half face up and the other face down.
Butter the muffin while it is still warm.
Let the butter melt into the muffin while you poach the eggs and fry the bacon.
Bacon:
I like to fry my bacon is a non-stick frying pan in a little butter*, on a medium heat.
Turn over occasionally until golden brown.
*if you’re judging me for using butter to fry bacon, you haven’t lived (and in no way ironic, at all, it will probably kill me).
Eggs:
There is a lot of endless debate over how you should poach an egg, which is a great example of  the human race’s ability to start, and maintain pointless arguments. When the world has fallen apart, two wasteland survivors will be sat in their rags, with beards, and six fingers, arguing over how to poach the last remaining egg.
I like to use a pan with about an inch, inch and half depth of water.
Add a drop or two of vinegar.
Have the water simmering slightly.
Crack one egg into a small glass.
Pour it into your simmering water. Get as close to the water as you can.
Some people pour it into a vortex. I don’t. I just pour it in.
Cook for about 3 minutes, or until the white looks cook and the yolk is still totally runny.
Repeat for your second egg.
Remove and place on a plate to one slide.
Putting the whole thing together:
Take one half of your muffin.
Place one rasher of bacon on it.
Place one of your poached eggs on top.
Chop up a small clove of garlic.
Sprinkle about half of the garlic onto the yolk with some chili flakes.
Split the yolk.
Repeat for the second muffin/bacon/egg pile of awesomeness.
Now eat the damn thing.

@thommilson

@HOWLComedyNight

Sunday 4 November 2012

Rich Hodkin - Carrot and Lentil Soup



The Lentil. 



Striking fear into the heart of the carnivore since its inception in the olden days. The connotations associated with serial lentil eaters: translucent skin, weak limbs, chronic halitosis and some sort of vitamin deficiency, are not without merit. I am certainly walking proof of this. But, this soup is super (soup-er?...sorry...) nutritious and very filling. Also, it’s easy to make and serves about twenty seven, so it has good store-and-reheat value.

Here’s what to do:

1. Get a load of carrots and grate them all up.

2. Put some herbs and spices1 in a big pan with some olive oil on a gentle heat.

3. Pour in a litre of vegetable stock.

4. Add 300g of split red lentils2 and the grated carrot.

5. Tricky bit, leave it for 20 minutes.

6. Put it all into a food processor or better still, use a hand blender if you live in a Jetsons style fantasy future cottage.

7. Eat it with some bread.

You will be a much healthier and better person if you eat this instead of McDonalds or any other processed meat. Also, no animals were harmed in the making of this meal.3


1 Whatever you have, but so much the better if you have chilli flakes, tarragon or coriander as these go nicely.
2 Other lentils are available.
3 Except for the kitten I kicked to death.


@Rich_Hodkin

Thursday 18 October 2012

Michael Sterrett - Cauliflower Cheese


Michael Sterrett is a Leeds comedian involved in the running of HOWL alternative comedy night. Details can be found here.




Last week was my one year anniversary in comedy. What a year it has been since I got on stage and told some jokes about Back To The Future, the porn magazine Barely Legal and the unpleasant physical side effects of alcoholism. As I stepped off stage feeling odd and elated an audience member said to me without a hint of aggression, "I think you need to see a psychologist". I couldn't agree more but I can't afford it and frankly I'm worried that if I actually deal with my problems I will stop being funny.

In the one year I have been doing stand-up I broke up with my longtime girlfriend, quit my job and am currently homeless. Yet I feel a restless sense of momentum that was sadly absent in my previous life as a boyfriend, employee and non-vagrant. I feel inspired and lucky to be surrounded by a genuinely exciting ground swell of comedic talent, all pushing each other to be better, write more material and explore the boundaries of what we're trying to do. I'm seeing acts that I love and respect dropping gold on the heads of the unsuspecting public and it couldn't make me happier. Comedy has, much like most of the women I've ever loved, simultaneously ruined my life and made it worth living.

This is a nice autumnal recipe to make whilst listening to Lambchop and dreaming of your enemies getting some kind of arse cancer, or a new strain of AIDS that only affects the eyes.

CAULIFLOWER CHEESE
1 large head of cauliflower
350g mature cheddar
150g hard sheep's cheese
80g butter
1 heaped tablespoon plain flour
1 pint of milk
½ tablespoon Dijon mustard
2 finely chopped scallions (spring onions)

Start by separating the cauliflower into lovely big florets and pop them in a steamer above some boiling water. They should only take 5-10 minutes to become tender. Once they're done put them to one side and put the oven on to 180 degrees.

Get a nice wide pan on a medium heat and add the butter. When it has just melted add the flour and stir vigorously until the butter and flour have made a paste. Take the pan off the heat and start to slowly add the milk. It helps if you warm the milk a little. The paste will absorb the milk quickly so just keep working the mixture until you have a good smooth consistency. Now add the grated cheddar and the mustard. If the sauce becomes too thick adjust it with more milk, getting it as thick or as light as you like. I like to keep it quite light as while it bubbles away in the oven it will thicken a bit.

Add the cooked cauliflower florets to the sauce and mix thoroughly along with the finely chopped scallions. Save a handful of scallions to garnish.

Grab a good heavy baking pan and add the cauliflower cheese. Sprinkle the hard sheep's cheese over the top along with the rest of the scallions. Let this cook on the bottom shelf of the oven for fifteen minutes or until the cheese has turned a lovely golden brown.

@mjsterrett
@howlcomedygroup

Wednesday 17 October 2012

Sean Morley: Stilton and Mushroom Pie


Sean Morley is a Sheffield-based comedian who runs Alt.Com.Cab (information here and here), and Speakers' Corner (information here) in the city. 



Ingredients:

For The Pastry
225g plain flour
100g butter
1 egg
Milk (if needed)
1 egg, beaten (for glaze)

The Filling
1 onion
500g of button mushrooms (halved)
2tbsp vegetable oil
1tbsp tomato puree
1tbsp soy sauce
250ml veg stock
200g stilton, crumbled
salt and pepper


Right. You're going to make a pie that is too rich. Keep that in mind to begin with. If halfway through making it you find yourself going "wait, but what if it's too rich?" then abort. That is not the attitude necessary for The Pie. I call it The Pie because it's the only pie you'll ever need. Knowing the names of descriptions of other pies will quickly become superfluous. This pie contains no meat because eating meat is wrong. 

FIRST YOU MUST MAKE SOME DOUGH. 
Mix the pastry ingredients together in a thing until it feels right
Squidge it up and. Cling film it and leave it in the fridge for either half an hour or until you've finished doing the other stuff I'm about to talk about. 

Chop and fry up an onion. Leaving that frying while you chop up 500 grams of button mushrooms and add them in too then let them all keep going until they turn brown andmiserable. When that happens add a tablespoon of tomato puree and fry for 3-5 more minutes. While you're waiting for those 3-5 minutes, mix up some stock and a dash of soy sauce in a little bit of water and then hurl that in too. Hurl it in violently.
Let that simmer for a minute or two then take it off the heat. 

USE THE DOUGH 
You must force the dough to have an unreasonably large surface area until it can cover the thing in which you intend to bake it (The Pie). 
I did this by rolling it with a wine bottle, but my capacity for inference tells me that a rolling pin would be better. 
When achieved put the stuff in the thing

Into the thing which contains the stuff place the filling (items from the frying pan). 
Crumble in the Stilton. 
Seal it. 
Glaze with egg. 
Bake for 30-40 minutes.

Eat The Pie

@SeanMorleyIV

@AltComCab

Wednesday 10 October 2012

Callum Scott: Turkey Chilli

Callum runs this blog. He is a Leeds-based comedian and feels weird about writing about himself in the first person. His recipe for Spicy Vegetable Soup can be found here.



Hello. This is my recipe for turkey chilli. It's a bit lighter than the traditional cow flesh chilli, as well as being more Hindu-friendly. What more could you wish for? It's good in enchiladas, with rice, basically anything you'd use chilli for. It also makes fucking amazing nachos.

Ingredients:
500g turkey mince (Unlike beef mince, all turkey mince is basically OK no matter how cheap)
1 medium onion, chopped as much as your manly overly sensitive tear ducts can take
Half tsp paprika - smoked, sweet or hot, depending on your taste or realistically, what's in your house
Half tsp cumin
1tsp dried oregano - no-one uses fresh oregano, if someone tells you they do, don't trust them
A bay leaf.
2 cloves garlic, I use 2tsp garlic puree because I'm a lazy shit
1 scotch bonnet chilli - use anything from one third (considerable afterburn) to all of it (I want to die)
1 small pack button mushrooms - you know, usually about 80p, that one.
1 tin tomatoes
250ml chicken or vegetable stock - use veg stock if you're making this vegetarian with Quorn, or it won't be vegetarian.
1 tin butter beans - this may be considered blasphemous, just try it, they work better than kidney beans in this.
Some oil
Salt and Pepper.

Soften the onions and herbs with the oil on a medium heat until the onions are translucent but not brown. If they go brown, carry on, literally no-one will give a fuck.
Add the garlic, chilli and spices and cook for about one minute before putting the mince in.
Turn the heat up a wee bit, then brown the turkey mince while smashing it up with a spatula. If you prefer, use chicken mince instead of turkey. It will not impact on the universe one iota. Use Quorn mince if you want. Basically use any kind of mince. Use Spam! See if I care.
When the mince is browned, add the tomatoes and stock, and simmer until the mince is cooked and you're just off the consistency you want. Which is any consistency, stop bothering me, I'm not even your real Dad.
Throw in the mushrooms. Not a mushroom fan? Use another fucking vegetable. It honestly doesn't matter. Use more Spam. You know what? Don't fucking bother making this at all. Just sit in the dark eating cold Spam from the tin. It honestly won't impact my life in the slightest.
After five minutes, add the drained beans. If you really want to use kidney beans instead of butter beans, do it. You're dead to me. No, go ahead, I'm sure kidney beans will be lovely in it.
After another five minutes, season it, take the bay leaf out, and serve however the fuck you want.

@callumformetal

Ashley Butterfield - A Banana Cut In Half With Rum And Raisin Ice Cream In It


"This was performed at Sheffield's 'Speaker's Corner' on the 26th of Septmber, 'Speaker's Corner' is Sheffield's best room to try out new material."



This is a public apology.

My name is Ashley Butterfield. I am a chef, I’m 28 years old, I own my own restaurant, I’m a keen cyclist, I’m a libra and I recently poisoned several members of the public due to a salt/daz washing up powder related mix-up.

I will begin by saying that it was wrong for us to have ever claimed that our dishes would only contain food when we weren’t 100% certain that we could provide soapless meals.

I also would like to apologise for our tagline ‘the soup you can believe in’ which in retrospect seems ironic and tasteless. The tagline that is, the soup wasn’t tasteless; because it tasted like soap.

Now, as a trained professional chef, I can tell you that the only reason this mistake was caused was due to an overwhelming lack of potassium in my diet. More on this later.

Soon after what became known in the Retford chronicle as ‘Daz-gate’, my health began to deteriorate. My restaurant was closed down, I was receiving threats and I had also consumed a fair amount of Daz myself in a futile effort to prove it wasn’t lethal.

I had nearly given up all hope when I remembered something my cooking teacher used to say to me in school: ‘Ashley, you look upset, but don’t worry I’ve got a surprise for you – now close your eyes’, at this point I would close my eyes as tight as I possibly could and I would hold out my right hand, he would place an object in my hand and as I felt it’s cylindrical shape caress my palm I would be ecstatic with excitement. For I knew that in my hand, there was a banana!

These potassium rich parcels from god are the only thing that has kept me going through this hardship, they also came in pretty handy whenever I caught mother kissing the postman. That’s right one bite of a banana can provide enough sustenance to swallow even the most troubling psychological issues.

It was several weeks later, while on a plantain high, that I had a eureka moment. I would invent a dish which would cure people of all their psychological problems. Now, with the hardest part out of the way, I set about finding the ingredients which would help make the dish.

After a lot of research in Tescos one evening I returned home with the recipe that would change the world and I am now going to share the recipe with you and I hope this goes some way to apologising for poisoning those children.

You will need:
1 bananas,
1 vanilla ice cream,
1 bottle of rum, and
1 pack of raisins.

I call this dish ‘a banana cut in half with rum and raisin ice cream in it’ (tm).
Here is how to prepare the dish:

You must begin by cutting the banana in half, shortly after doing that feel free to drink some of the rum. You must then open the tub of ice cream and spoon some of the ice cream on top of the banana, at this point there is no harm in having another drink, so feel free to do so. Open the raisins, put those on top of the ice cream, drink some rum and then pour some rum onto the pile of banana, ice cream and raisins. This dish is best served at a freezing cold temperature and if you are looking for a drink to accompany the meal, we recommend rum.

This dish has never failed to put a smile on my face, so much so that I sometimes make it upwards of five times a day.

It is also great for special occasions, be it a funeral or a rehabilitation meeting or even when you’re watching old footage of your failed marriage.

That’s right. Next time you’re in the supermarket why not treat yourself to ‘a banana cut in half with rum and raisin ice cream in it’ (tm).

I thank you.

Tuesday 9 October 2012

Jacob Rawcliffe - Paella


Sorry about the delay everyone. Will hopefully get back to being a bit more regular. Jacob Rawcliffe is a Leeds-based act who recently came second in the national finals of Tickled Pig.




I'm not a cooker. In any way. I don't really know what they're meant to be called. As such, I can't make any useful or practical foods – but I can make paella. Paella is massively lovely, but for a poor, bewildered student like myself, it often feels like a debauched extravagance. As such, it is best enjoyed by smearing it all over your face, pouring on some “wine” and weeping (this is my only culinary technique – tears are an adequate substitute for salt).

N.B. Some terminology may not be accurate.

Making-Bits (serves 4ish)
1 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, crushed and chopped
1 chopped and empty red pepper
3 tabs oil (vegetable, I suspect. Virgin if there's one to hand; crude if nothing else)
8oz (225g) long grain rice (or paella rice if you're feeling special, just shit rice if not. It doesn't really matter)
A pinch of turmeric
1 pint chicken stock
Salt and pepper
8oz (225g) cooked chicken cut into strips (I recommend actually cooking some chicken yourself as the pre-cooked stuff is a bit shit in this tasty dish)
4 oz ham, sliced and chopped (this is the only time breaded ham is bad, so anything but that)
Some chorizo - depends on size, a few slices if sliced, a rough-hewn hunk if you're using the real deal.
4oz (100g) frozen peas
2 tomatoes, peeled and quartered (dip whole in boiling water then cold water to loosen skin, then chop)
4oz (100g) cooked peeled prawns
Chopped fresh parsley to garnish (optional)

To be honest, almost all of the veg/meat is optional. You can pretty much throw anything you want in there, but through various tinkerings I've found the above to be the nicest combination.

Method:
In a large frying pan, fry the onion, garlic and pepper in the oil for a few minutes until soft. The pan is surprisingly important. Depending on how many people you're making it for, you can end up with a hell of a lot of stuff in that pan, so much sure it's a big 'un!

Add the rice, and stir until lightly fried and grains are transparent (a couple of minutes). This is the risky stage – there is a very fine line between lovely, soft, see-through rice and a hideous, charred mess. Pay attention!

Stir in the turmeric, stock, salt and pepper and simmer, covered for 15 minutes. Cover with a pan lid or similar and just give it a cursory stir every now and then (remember the rice crimes).

Add all the remaining ingredients and cook, covered for a further 5 to 10 minutes until most of the liquid has been absorbed. If it's looking a bit barren, top it up with a little bit more water – again, not massively important.

Sprinkle with chopped parsley (N.B. This makes literally no difference) and serve. Bon apetit!

@CobyRawcliffe

Monday 1 October 2012

Edy Hurst - Bacon, Cheese, Mushroom and Onion Omelette


Edy Hurst is a Leeds-based comedian who runs Latent Mutant Comedy, details of which can be found here.



How to cook a Bacon, Cheese, mushroom and onion omelette whilst entertaining a guest in your shared house you’re not entirely comfortable with.

Ingredients:
For One:
2 eggs
3 rashers of bacon
Sun Flowers oil mixed with Olive Oil (oil type optional)
Half a medium sized red onion
Enough grated cheese
A few mushrooms (play it by ear)
A single Bell Pepper (play it by heart)
2 – 3 house mates in the kitchen (or a singular one you have a mediocre relationship with
1 Person invited into the house whom you know little about or nothing at all.
(House Strangers can be brought from anywhere providing they know the majority of the people in room very well, but not you).

Equipment:
Mixing bowl,
Knife,
Chopping board,
Cheese Grater,
Frying Pan,
Neurosis

Let us begin.
1.      Walk into the kitchen and be slightly surprised, followed by embarrassment, passing through into alienation and then resentment by the Person invited into the house whom you know little or nothing about. Many people ask me is it important the type of person you don’t know, and to that I would recommend a same gender agent, who at least appears superior to you. The more on your toes and heady it makes you, the better.
2.      Whilst being careful to move around each and every house member at the kitchen table, awkwardly knocking the House Stranger, collect your ingredients and place them in the workspace. Put the frying pan on the heat, then place the rashers of bacon in there to – unsurprisingly – fry.
3.      Attempt small talk with House Stranger, making sure to either get locked out of the conversation by a private joke with the others or by saying something that makes you appear simple.
4.      Realising you do not have any tongues to flip the bacon, use your fingers. This makes you appear more of an idiot therefore adding to the important flavour of shame you’re trying to infuse in the dish.
5.      Take out the bacon, pour in some oil for frying and flavour, place in the diced onions and mushrooms, shaking them to move the across the pan.
6.      Having left the glass bowl on the opposite side of the room, bumble over like the useless, incompetent waste of space I am and take the eggs, because that’s the most efficient thing to have done then whisk all the eggs together. But oh, you don’t have a whisk; because you’re such a genius to remember you inventory you’ll just have to use a fork. Season with salt, pepper and disappointment in yourself. Its worth noting that the House Stranger heightens the insecurities, as does cooking to a judgemental audience that knows you forgot to flush the toilet last night. This is significant for the process, for what’s food if not an experience? A slow, depressing, soul crushing experience!
7.      Now that the onion and mushrooms are slightly more burnt than you intended, knock over a chair trying to rush back to them, pretend you were being funny on purpose and pour them in the egg mixture, then pour the whole mixture into the frying pan at a lower heat than before.
8.      Cut up the bacon, and get the Cheese out of the fridge and spread both over the inside of omelette. The cheese must go on top as it will act as glue for flipping the Omelette.
9.      Stare at the House Stranger, not how they’re more attractive and talented than you, but more importantly realise the black hole of silence that is now the room as the house stranger and yourself realise you have little to nothing in common. Pathos is everything.
10.  Forgetting that you had a bell pepper to use, rush to cut that, making sure it’s in too big a chunks and place into the omelette, which should be a dark brown. This is unplanned serendipity that will actually work in your favour. As just when you think the world’s eternally against you you will experience luck in your favour, and this will make you hate the world even more.
11.  Flip the Omelette a bunch, pressing the cheese together. It is eat immediately.
12.  Place your tail firmly between your legs and walk out of the kitchen with your omelette, be sure to hear laughs from your house mates about you uselessness in life
13.  Return in between sentence about you as you forgot a fork, and embrace the fact that regardless of how well you made your food, all you can taste is self-hatred, shame and humiliation with each mouthful.


By Edy Hurst
Edyhurst.tumblr.com
@Edyhurst
facebook.com/latentmutantcomedy
latentmutantcomedy.tumblr.com

Sunday 30 September 2012

Steve Goodall - Beer Can 'Bacon' Chicken


This is how Steve Goodall tricks bacon into his lair.


I’ve tried roasting chickens to get crispy skin before but I always ended up with a soggy bottomed bird, but any port in a storm, eh?
So when I saw a short advert in between programs on The Food Network Channel showing two of my fave things, meat and beer, well I nearly shit a brick!
The idea was simple, stick a chicken on a can of beer of your choice, I used Stella Artois, so the whole chicken gets elevated off the tray so cooks all the way round, and the beer steams through the meat from the inside.

You need…
1 whole chicken, as cheap as you like, nothing wrong with roasting a cheap bird now and then then, we’ve all been there. No point buying one of these ‘Higher Welfare’ jobbies, after all, you’re only going to shove a metal tin up its arse!
1 can of premium wife beater (optional), opened.
8 rashers of smoked, streaky bacon, I used pancetta, cos life’s good right now…
Just a bit of oil (This is clearly not a Jamie ‘Lets Soak The Bleeding Thing In Extra Virgin’ Oliver recipe!)
Some salt and pepper
A metal roasting tin
How to…
1.       Set your oven to 190°C  (at this point, a proper chef waffles on about fan assisted stuff, but hey-ho!)
2.       Put just one oven shelf in, put it on the bottom rung, this is a tall tray full, you need the headroom!
3.       Take the stupid string off the chicken, it’s not bondage ffs!
4.       With a sharp knife, cut into the thighs and legs, this helps them cook at the same speed as the more delicate breast meat <insert your own pun here>
5.       Sprinkle salt and pepper all over the chicken, then drizzle in the oil and rub it in…’Oi, Chicken, you’ve lived a shitty life, and now I’m going to ram a can up yer ass!’ (Oh, not that kind of ‘rub it in’!)
6.       OPEN THE CAN OF BEER!! Things get explosive if you don’t. Put the can in the middle of the roasting tray (Use a solid tray, not a disposable foil one like I did in the photo, Doh!)
7.       Use your fingers to widen the ‘posterior end’ of the chicken, you may need to take the chicken out for drinks first, whisper sweet nothings to it, and spend 2 hours of foreplay first, I've heard birds prefer this to having it rammed straight in.
8.       Carefully slide the chicken over the can; it will bottom out in its ribcage.

9.       Layer the bacon on the chicken so it covers the breast meat and legs. This will flavour the meat from the outside.
10.   Then, deftly place the balanced tray into the oven and leave for 45 minutes.
11.   After this time, take the bacon off the skin, it’s done its bit, this is now your mid-recipe treat!
12.   Start to baste the chicken using the juices in the tray, repeat every 10 minutes until it’s been cooking for 1hr 20/30 minutes. Then take it out to rest.
13.   Leave it to rest for about 15 minutes, and then use what’s left in the can to make Stella gravy. Enjoy!
Nb. You can of course use the beer of your choice; stout-ier beers would make a better gravy.
@StevieGoodall


Saturday 29 September 2012

Eddie French: Blondies

Eddie is our first returning contributor to Cooking With Comedians, his recipe for Big Fat Greedy Pasta Bake can be found here.




These are Brownie like treats without the cocoa content so you don't overpower the other stuff in there. I can find some brownies a bit too rich if they have chocolate chips in, or other goodies so these can be made rather unique and exciting. This is how I achieve excitement these days. Society is to blame but that's for another time.

Fixings.

300g All purpose flour
170g Butter, melted and cooled slightly
200g Light brown sugar
100g Granulated sugar
1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon Cayenne pepper (optional but very good if you're using a lot of chocolate in your 'Goodies' section)
280g Goodies. What ever you like really. Chocolate chips, nuts, dried fruit, methamphetamine, chunks of boiled sweet, hundreds and thousands or any combination of the above.

Method.

Preheat the oven to 160. Line a 9x13-inch baking pan (or 2 8x12 pans) with buttered/oiled greaseproof paper, letting the excess hang over the edges of the pan by about 1 inch so you can grab those edges and pull the Blondies. from the pan after they have baked.

Sift the flour, salt, and baking soda together into a bowl  Whisk the melted butter and sugars in a large bowl until combined. Add the egg, egg yolk, vanilla and Cayenne if you're using it, and then mix well. Using a rubber spatula, fold the dry ingredients into the egg mixture until combined.

It's important not to overdo this. Otherwise the mixture doesn't hold any air and you can end up with a very dense mixture.

Fold in the goodies and turn the batter into the prepared pan, smoothing the top with the spatula.

A nice tip here is to keep the rubber spatula wet with a bowl of lukewarm water (email me if you need my recipe for this).

Put the tray into the oven, about 1/3 from the bottom. Bake until the top of the Blondies are light golden brown, slightly firm to the touch, and edges start pulling away from sides of pan. About 25 minutes should do it. Cool on a wire rack to room temperature. Remove from the pan by lifting the paper overhang and sling them onto a chopping board. Cut into 2-inch squares or simply tear off handfuls of the barely-cooled batch and cram into your tear-streaked face as your phone sits on the side, wilfully silent.

@EddieTheFrench

Friday 28 September 2012

Sam Gore: Chorizo and Rocket Tortellini

Sam Gore is a regular writer on Russell Howard's Good News, and has appeared on The Tape Face Tapes, and FHM's Stand Up Heroes.




I’ll warn you in advance on this one – if you’ve never made pasta before, set aside pretty much an entire afternoon for making this dish. It is EPIC and you will need balls of steel. Oh, and if you don’t have a pasta machine, set aside about three weeks and space for a mental breakdown, because hand-rolling pasta is an absolute shitting nightmare that will drive you insane. If you reckon you can roll it perfectly thin and evenly then I salute you but I won’t be coming round for dinner because I expect being able to do it makes you some kind of high-functioning autistic serial killer who collects human teeth.

Making your own pasta is awesome. It’s a real pain in the arse the first few times but the difference in quality more than makes up for the extra effort. If you’ve got the kit and put in a bit of practice, it’s well worth it and you’ll get faster at it. Once you’ve got the dough right, you just run it through the rollers, clicking the machine down a notch each time to make it thinner. Not only is this dead easy, but you can also pretend it’s a clothes mangle and you’re a wartime evacuee. I’ve played around with loads of different fillings and sauces for stuffed pasta and this one is the dog’s bollocks (not literally, this isn’t ITV).

The rules with pasta dough are pretty simple. For each 100g or so of flour you’ll need one egg and a splash of olive oil. By a happy coincidence this also equates to about one person’s serving of pasta if you’re cutting it into tagliatelli – for tortellini it goes a fair bit further than that, provided you gather up all your cut-offs and run them back through the machine.

Chorizo & Rocket Tortellini (Serves 4)
For the pasta:
300g high-quality OO flour
3 large eggs
Paprika
Olive oil
For the filling
Two-thirds of one of those big horseshoes of chorizo, roughly chopped
Tub of ricotta
100g packet of rocket leaves
1 red pepper, roughly chopped
1 red chilli, deseeded and chopped
2 tomatoes, roughly chopped
1 egg
Generous handful of grated parmesan
For the sauce
The other third of the chorizo, cut into slices
5-6 sundried tomatoes, finely chopped
1 red chilli, deseeded and finely chopped
Tablespoon of tomato puree
Paprika
Half a metric tonne of butter (adjust according to your own preference, but LOTS)
2 fresh tomatoes, finely chopped
Dried oregano

LET’S GET CRACKING.
Start with the filling. Heat up a large saucepan with a tiny bit of olive oil and add the chorizo. Cook for a few minutes until the sausage has started to colour and the oils and spices are coming out, then chuck in the red pepper, chilli and tomatoes. Cook until the pepper softens and add the rocket. Stir until the rocket just wilts, then turn off the heat and leave to cool for a bit. Have a cup of tea or touch yourself or something (wash your hands once you’re done) and then transfer everything from the saucepan into a food processor. Add the parmesan, egg and ricotta and a good pinch of salt and pepper, then process until it’s all smooth. Transfer to a bowl and stick it in the fridge to cool right down.

Now it’s time to sort the dough out. Measure out your flour into a large bowl and make a dent in the middle of it with your fingers. Then crack the eggs into the well along with a good slug of olive oil and plenty of well-ground salt and pepper (big chunks when you’re rolling pasta thin can make it tear). Add plenty of paprika – this doesn’t add much flavour-wise, but makes the tortellini a funky orange colour which is perfect for this dish and I’m all for that kind of artistic tomfoolery. Use a wooden spoon to combine everything until it’s formed a fairly dry-looking dough that’s a bit crumbly – as eggs are all slightly different sizes, add a little extra flour if it seems too wet.

Flour the work surface and start kneading the dough. At first it’ll tear a lot and come apart but the longer you do it, the less dry it’ll seem, the more the colours will blend and it’ll start feeling more elastic. Knead for at least ten minutes, until you’ve got a good springy ball that’s uniform in colour and doesn’t feel wet to the touch. Wrap it tightly in cling film to stop it drying out as you won’t be using it all at once.

Either get your pasta machine ready (clamp it to the work surface and dust the rollers with flour) or get your rolling pin and your insane mind prepped. Tear off a ball of dough and run it through the largest setting, then fold the sheet back on itself and run it through again. Do this a few times on the largest setting until your pasta is the right width, and then start adjusting the machine and rolling it through once on each setting. Keep flouring the sheet and work surface to stop the dough sticking. If the sheet’s too long and getting all over the place you can also cut it in half and run each piece through on their own. Keep doing this until you’ve got pasta rolled down to the thinnest setting. Work in batches assembling the tortellini rather than rolling all the pasta out at once, because you don’t want it to dry out.

Get two floured chopping boards ready; one for assembling the tortellini and one for putting it once you’re all done. Using a round pastry cutter (the bigger the cutter, the bigger the tortellini and the less faffing about you’ll be doing, the size is up to you), cut out discs of pasta and move to the assembly board. Get a mug of water ready and fetch your filling from the fridge.

Using two teaspoons to keep your fingers clean and dry, put a dollop of filling in the centre of each disc. How much depends on how big your discs are but it’s surprisingly little – try it out until you get it right, bearing in mind the disc has to fold over on itself and cover the filling entirely with enough space left to seal up the pasta.

This is the absurdly fiddly bit. Pick up a disc and keep it in the palm of one hand. Dip one finger of your other hand into the water and run it round the whole edge of the disc. Now fold the pasta over the filling to make a tiny Cornish pasty of deliciousness, gently rubbing out any air pockets. If there’s air in the pasta when it goes into boil, it will explode and EVERYONE IN YOUR HOUSE WILL DIE. Only joking! Only half the people in your house will die. This isn’t a lie, because if after all this effort your pasta just explodes in the saucepan because you haven’t got the air pockets out, you will go on rage-fuelled killing spree out of sheer fucking frustration. Once you’ve got your Cornish pasty shape, wet one of the flat corners and poke the filling in the middle of the flat edge. Bend around that dent and stick the two corners together. You should be left with a fully finished little tortellini that looks a bit like a sailor’s hat. Put it onto your other chopping board and cover with a tea towel to stop it drying out.

Repeat what will feel like a million times until you have enough tortellini for however many ungrateful pricks you are feeding, making sure you keep your assembly board dry and floured to prevent anything sticking where you don’t want it to. Also make sure you gather up your leftover bits of dough and combine them back together by rolling them through the largest setting of the machine, folding and repeating until the pasta feels right again.

Now you’ve got all your tortellini ready to go, get a big saucepan of water on to boil, along with plenty of salt and a slug of olive oil (this helps stop the tortellini sticking together in the water). Now it’s sauce time, bitches!

The finished sauce should be good and chunky to provide some texture, with the flavoured butter coating the tortellini to keep it suitably tasty and non-claggy. First of all melt your butter in a frying pan, then add the chorizo and again heat until the spices and oils start coming out. Add some extra paprika and the tomatoes, oregano, sundried tomatoes, chilli and tomato puree. Cook on a medium heat until the fresh tomatoes have pretty much disintegrated, then keep warm on a low heat while you cook the tortellini.

With your water on a rolling boil, tip in all the tortellini at once, giving it a quick stir to stop it sticking together. It should sink to the bottom at first so also move it around to stop it sticking to the bottom of the pan and coming apart. Cooking fresh pasta shouldn’t take long at all – 3 or 4 minutes once the water’s returned to the boil, or until the tortellini rises to the top. Drain the pasta well, tip into the frying pan of sauce, toss to coat it all and then serve in bowls with plenty of parmesan and black pepper. Oh, and don’t forget to BASK IN THE ADMIRATION OF YOUR PEERS.

Sorry about the rubbish pic, I am useless at taking them.

@samgorecomedian