Salad Cream

Recipe:  Salad Cream Sandwich

Take two slices of plain bread.

Slather on a good big dollop of Salad Cream.

Wham the slices together.

Cut in half.  Eat.

Having grown out of just rifling the biscuit tin and smuggling packs of Skips out of the kitchen pantry in the pockets of my dressing gown, the first snack I learned to make for myself as a child was the (I think, hugely underrated) Salad Cream sandwich.  Still a favourite even now (though now garnished with black pepper for added 30-something-sophistication), I’ve  surprised myself  at just how many tasty emergency snacks can be pulled together using just bare essentials and all those stupid condiments that are left hanging out in the fridge and in the kitchen cupboards long after all the proper foodstuffs have been used up.  Which is handy, really, since I seldom have any proper food to hand.  When you find yourself in times of trouble and mother Mary comes to you completely empty handed, without so much as a digestive biscuit let alone words of wisdom, never fear.  ‘Tis time to embrace your inner slob.  Throw off the ‘domestic god/dess’ shackles.  Yeah, you’re probably right, these accidental culinary delights might sound pretty disgusting, but desperate times call for desperate measures.  Give ‘em a whirl.  I’ve found little tricks to fool myself into thinking they’re actually quite posh.  Crushing black pepper on stuff makes it posh, right?

P.S  I know you won’t give ‘em a whirl.  That’s ok.  I shan’t be offended.

Recipe:  Pesto Pasta

Boil pasta with a wee dash of olive oil.

Drain.  Add a tablespoon of pesto.  Mix it up.

Dump onto a plate.  Eat.

[If feeling especially fancy, add a tablespoon of creme fraiche and you got yourself a dinner party].

Recipe:  Pretend Eastern Eurpoean Sandwich

Take two slices of plain bread or left over crusty hog loaf.

Spread a thin layer of tomato ketchup on one.  Spread a thin layer of soft cheese on the other. That stray  Dairylea triangle will fit the bill nicely.

Layer up some pesto onto the red bit of the bread.

Crush on some black pepper then wham the slices together.  That said, if using hog loaf, I recommend just adding all three layers to one slice – one on top of the other and eating like an ‘open sandwich’.  See?  P-O-S-H.

Cut in half.  Eat.

Poor Man’s Spag

Boil up some spaghetti.  Brown or white – don’t matter, though I think brown pasta is tastier somehow.

Drizzle with olive oil.  Add black pepper.

Should you happen upon an eadible sprig of fresh basil left on that neglected herb plant you bought, now’s the time to use it. Rip the leaves and stir ‘em in.

Dish up and enjoy.

Recipe:  Tomato Bread

Slice up the remains of a crusty baguette.

Take a ‘just-about-past-its-best’ squishy tomato.  Cut it in half.

Rub the tomato innards onto the bread.

Add a tiny drizzle of olice oil over the lot then garnish with salt and pepper.

Done.

Recipe:  Carb “Salad”

Cook some pasta just the way you like it.  Rinse it in cold water, cover -  then pop in the fridge.

While the pasta is cooling, chop half an onion (or as much onion as you can find at the bottom of the fridge drawer) into tiny bits and throw it in a bowl.

Open a can of tuna fish and drain.  Throw the tuna fish in with the onion.

Sprinkle some vinegar on top.  Add tonnes of black pepper and a squirt of lemon juice.  Mix in a dollop of Salad Cream.

Add the tuna mixture to the cool pasta then pop the whole lot back in the fridge for 5 – 10 minutes.

Serve with the last of that cucumber you found earlier – and maybe with some of those slightly dried up radishes on the side.

Beardy and I have eaten Carb Salad for lunch for two days in a row.  Still not tired of it…

Make-Do Tomato Pie

As if you were ever in any doubt, you know you’re living the dream when you find yourself spending the morning taking a food inventory.  Yes.  A food inventory.  You can find me regularly – well, maybe once every three months or so -  notepad and pen in hand, taking stock of every last morsel of food in my kitchen.  Every freezer drawer is emptied, every shelf in the fridge scoured, every cupboard surveyed.  I make a note of absolutely every ingredient we have (marking where appropriate how many portions of x-foodstuff we have in hand) and then…  Then I set to work inventing ‘meals’ according to the sorry remnants of our last proper grocery shop.  ‘Tis a glamorous task, I assure you.

Now, it ain’t no secret.  There ain’t much I can’t do with a tomato.  As luck would have it, tonight I managed to rustle up (pretty much) the ingredients for one of my favourite dishes.  Tomato pie.   Or more accurately, I suppose, tomato tart.  I don’t usually put much else in tomato pie other than tomatoes (?) – but tonight I was trying to use up some poor soon-to-be-discarded bits from the fridge and so improvised a little bit here and there. I didn’t have any tinned tomatoes or any proper full sized fresh tomatoes, or any fresh basil (all usually key to the recipe), but I forged ahead regardless.  A gal gotta eat.

When you find yourself in a pickle – with noubt to hand but half an onion, a barely edible orange pepper, a carton of 39p passata, some ‘last legs’ cherry toms, a fistful of quorn mince and a roll of readymade shortcrust pastry, here’s what I recommend you do…

How to wham together a delicious Make-Do Tomato Pie (even when Old Mother Hubbard reckons the cupboards are bare…  What does she know?)

(Before you begin, stick your oven on to heat – around 180 degrees for fan assisted oughta do the job.  By the time you’ve prepared your pie filling, your oven will be ready to rumble!)

1.  Pop a glug of olive oil in the bottom of a pan.  Heat it up juuuuust nice.  Don’t set it to sizzle, but you do want it to be good ‘n’ hot at this point.

2.  Chop half an onion (plus any ‘just about gubbed’ fresh veg you have lurking in the fridge drawer).

Sniffle!

3.  Whing all the chopped veg into the pan and jiggle it about a bit in the oil until it’s all softened up – then reduce the heat a little.

4.  If you can muster up some garlic – fresh, pureeed or even powdered, then get a fair whack in there.  One of my very favourite smells of all time is the smell of onion frying in olive oil and garlic.

5.  Pour some passata into the pan – enough to cover all the veg – plus a ‘lil bit extra.

6.  Chuck in that piddly amount of quorn mince you found in a packet right at the bottom of the freezer.

Delicious red mush... Oh, how I love you!

7.  Raid the condiment cupboard and add a smidgeon of chilli powder, any Italian herbs you can find, a tiny TINY drop of red wine vinegar, a pinch of sugar and tonnes of black pepper.  Oh – and a fair squirt of tomato puree.  Squish that in there too.

8.  Before you leave the tomato-y concotion to settle for a bit, double check the fridge for any last minute ingredients you want to add.  Make use of stuff that will otherwise be binned.  When I checked, I found not one – but THREE half full jars of pesto in the fridge door compartment.  I introduced two big healthy dollops to my tomato mix.

There were three green jars of pesto, sitting in the fridge - three green jars of pesto, sitting in the fridge... And if one green jar of pesto should... Aherm.

9.  While your pie filling ingredients get acquainted, prepare your pastry.  In my case, I defrosted one of those ‘ready-rolled’ sheets of short crust pastry – so in terms of preparation, I had very little.  I just greased my baking tin popped the pastry on in there.  Job done.

10.  Providing your oven has reached the desired temperature, pop your pastry in for a sneaky five minutes, just to get it in the mood for crisping up.

11.  Once the pastry has browned just a little, bring it out of the oven again and fill up the case with your scrummy tomato mixture (which, by the way, ought to be smelling DELICIOUS by now!)

12.  Before you wham the whole lot in the oven, top your pie with halved fresh cherry tomatoes.  Pop the pie in the over for 30-40 mins.

Eeep! I think the insides of tiny toms are very cute. Look at their 'lil mini seeds!

Time to get pie-eyed!

13.  Dish up with salad and/or bread on the side.  Tonight, I didn’t have salad OR bread – so instead made use of a forgotten about ovenable M&S potato dish (praise the lord for those yellow stickers!) and a spoonful of coleslaw.

Although distinctly lacking any proper greenery to speak of,  I think this was one of the very best tomato pies I have ever managed to conjure up.  What is it they say?  Hunger is a good kitchen?  I’m not really sure who ‘they’ are – but  my mum definitely says that.

Voila! Make-Do Tomato Pie (not that it looks much like a pie - I kind of messed it up as I was dishing it up!)

So – next time you realise that there’s absolutely no chance of you doing a hardcore grocery shop in the next two months, despair not.  Get your pad and pen out.  Compile that list.  I will bet you a tenner* that you manage to piece together at least 10 meals from the odds and sods in your kitchen.   Oh-  and if all you find is a bit of frozen cauliflower, some chopped spinach and half a bag of pearl barley, you’ll soon discover your inner soup genius!  (Soup genius?  I’m pretty sure I am a soup genius).

*Of course, if  it turns out you don’t make 10 meals from your grocery remnants – I won’t really give you a tenner.  If I had a tenner to fritter away on silly betting  games, I’d have a tenner to buy a fleekin’ basil plant.  Or even 10 basil plants!