Today, I’m kicking off another Accent Press author Kristen Bailey‘s Christmas blog party with a fairytale of New York. Do pop over, take a look and follow the rest of the tour. It’s going to be a blinder. Essential reading for all book, booze and food lovers.
Kristen Bailey’s debut novel, Souper Mum, is published today by Accent Press and I have the great honour of welcoming her to my blog. Kristen is a kindred spirit; she’s as hopeless in the kitchen as I am! Some of you might remember my Great British Burn Off? But today’s all about Kristen. Over to you…
Can I cook? Well, in theory, yes. For example, if you gave me a chicken breast, I could season it, apply heat to it and you’d end up with one cooked chicken breast. Ta-dah! The problem is I’d probably overcook it. It’d be charred (code for burnt) on the outside and inside the consistency of chalk but yes, definitely cooked. Bon Appetit!
My culinary prowess is a bit of a running joke in my family. It started back at school where I had to create a dish for my Home Economics lesson. I had the truly great idea that I’d coat bits of cod in cornflakes. I called them Fish Flips. I didn’t use any binding agent like egg or flour. So it just ended up as shrunken rubbery pieces of cod in a sea of baked cornflakes. Yum. My brother still brings up this spectacular culinary fail fifteen years down the line. When there is talk of Christmas, family birthdays and celebration meals, the conversation often goes as such:
Mum: It’s my birthday! Let’s go out for dinner!
Me: I could cook?
Mum: Or we could go out for dinner?
And I’m not sure why I’m so bad at cooking, I give it a good ol’ stab. I have cookbooks about my person which I bookmark and drool over. I watch the odd cookery show and help myself to those random recipe cards you find at the back of supermarkets. But for some reason, those glossy pictures of burnished lamb shanks with crowns of rosemary, and lustrous fruit tarts usually get lost in translation through my cooking skills. I’m not sure if it’s my bad maths that can never work out the timings or perhaps there is something fundamentally wrong with my palate but many a time, my kids curiously drag their forks around their plates. Children who are essentially, the worst food critics, ever. ‘I don’t like it.’ Imagine that as a restaurant review in The Times, just that. Ouch.
And what is worse is that I come from a family of foodies. My mother is the archetypal kitchen-dwelling matriarch. When you eat at her table, it’s a veritable feast of courses and flavours and love. My sister produces layered, well-iced cakes that are GBBO worthy. I have aunts, cousins, grandmothers who have recipes and dishes that are firm family favourites. And then there’s me. Mac and cheese, anyone? I make a decent mac and cheese? With a side of frozen peas?
So in a market saturated with cook books, foodie blogs and faddy diet advice, I wrote Souper Mum for mums like me, the non-cooking sorts. The ones who try, who let occasional junk pepper their dining tables but who also level it out with a bit of broccoli. Mums who have limited cooking skill, fussy little customers and who have to think about other constraints like time, fatigue and budget. It’s like the proper Hunger Games. Your kitchens are the battlefields; they’re not the pastel, beech work-topped utopias you see in your cookbooks. These kitchens are covered in yesterday’s washing up, school newsletters, Lego and a remote control without any batteries. The mums within have little to no foodie wisdom or ability; they’re literally just winging it with a bag of pasta, a tin of chopped tomatoes and half a block of cheddar cheese.
My Souper Mum is Jools Campbell: she grills cupcakes, messes up scrambled eggs and has never really worked out the secret mastery involved in chopping onions. Let’s just say I had a catalogue of excellent bad-cooking anecdotes to lend to her story. Her journey is one of self-discovery – the same one that I think most mothers go on when they find themselves embroiled in parenthood and are trying to dig through the debris to remember what’s important in life and reclaim their sense of identity. Her story is set against a foodie culture she decides to take a stand against with hilarious if life-altering consequences. If your life is full of quinoa, samphire and you’re one of those full-on crazy people who feel the need to make their own puff pastry, then I warn you, you may not like what Jools has to say. However, if tonight you’ve opened your kitchen cabinet, reached for the baked beans and are examining those last few slices of bread for mould then Souper Mum might just be your new best friend….
Souper Mum is the story of Jools Campbell, a stay-at-home mother of four, who becomes an unlikely foodie hero when she stands up to a pompous celebrity chef, Tommy McCoy on a reality show. Armed with fish fingers and a severely limited cooking repertoire, we watch as she becomes a reluctant celebrity and learns some important life lessons about love, family and the joyless merits of quinoa.
To buy Souper Mum, click on this link:
Mother-of-four, gin-drinker, binge-watcher, receipt hoarder, hapless dog owner, enthusiastic but terrible cook. Kristen lives in Fleet, Hampshire and has had short fiction published in several publications. The sequel to Souper Mum will be published later in the year.
She writes a weekly blog about being a modern mother. That and more can be found at her website: http://www.kristenbaileywrites.com
You can also find her on:
Twitter @baileyforce6 and Facebook www.facebook.com/kristenbaileywrites
Sounds fantastic, Kristen. Best of luck – with the book (and tonight’s supper!). x
No one died of a dusty house, right?
On Wednesday, I completed the first draft of my latest novel – working title Redemption Song. It’s a story of guilt, love and forgiveness – or Buildings, Bats and Love – set in a remote seaside town in Wales. It’s fair to say that for months my house has been absolutely rammy and I should be awarded an A star in slovenliness. But as I said in the sub-title: no one ever died of a grubby house. And in mitigation I was immersed in my characters’ worlds.
Now that I have to stay away from the manuscript for at least a couple of weeks (oh how my fingers itch for the keyboard) my house is spotless, mounds of paperwork have been filed, the lawns have been mowed and I even baked a cake with Ginger2 on Saturday – with disastrous results. Nigella Lawson, I’m not.
All this cleaning is fine preparation because soon enough, though not soon enough for me, I’ll be tidying up messy areas of the novel. I might rearrange the furniture in some scenes, repaint others, polish certain characters, bin others, or even go out shopping for a new look for one, to give the character a little more va-va-voom. I do love this process because, when I’m lucky, a kind of alchemy occurs: the base metal of a story is transformed into narrative gold, though I’ll settle for a second draft of silver because after draft two comes draft three …
On this, the 30th anniversary of a defining moment in British history and the strike – The Battle of Orgreave – immortalised by artist Jeremy Deller, author David Peace and poet Helen Mort. I’m sharing another offal recipe – Baked Stuffed Hearts. Why? Because the strike was full of passion and my novel, Public Battles, Private Wars, has been described by book blogger Tracy Terry at Pen and Paper as a novel with a big heart.
You will need:
4 calves hearts
Pork Sausage Stuffing
50g/2oz of butter
3 tablespoons of stock or water if you’ve no stock
Wash hearts well
Remove veins and fat. Dry thoroughly
Cut through centre divisions to make 1 cavity in each heart
Fill loosely with stuffing
Transfer to casserole dish
Dot with butter. Pour in stock water
Cook, tightly covered, in the centre of a moderate oven (160C/325F or Gas Mark 3) for an hour and a half
Continue to cook, uncovered, for a further 30 minutes (or until tender)
Serve with Creamed Potatoes, Brown Sauce and Redcurrant jelly.
On the 18th June 1984 striking miners clashed with riot police, many with shields and on horseback, in the fields outside the Orgreave coking plant in South Yorkshire. In 1991 South Yorkshire Police force paid out over half a million pounds in compensation to miners arrested during the struggle.
So here’s another recipe from my friend, Julia Cook’s (I know, I know) book. Another one I haven’t tried and never will given the alleged trickiness of getting soufflés just right, and my proven culinary ineptitude. If expert cooks mess it up I sure as hell will.
You will need:
50g/2oz plain flour
300ml/ ½ pint of lukewarm water
100g/4oz finely grated cheese (preferably stale)
1 level teaspoon made mustard
½ level teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
Yolks of 3 large eggs
Whites of 3 or 4 large eggs
Melt the butter in a saucepan and add flour. Cook for 2 minutes without browning, stirring all the time
Gradually whisk in warm milk (do not use a spoon). Continue whisking gently until sauce comes to the boil and thickens
Simmer for about 2 minutes. Sauce should be thick and leave the sides of the pan quite clean
Remove from heat and cool slightly. Beat in cheese, mustard, salt, Worcestershire sauce and egg yolks
Beat egg whites to stiff snow. Gently fold into sauce mixture with a large metal spoon
Transfer to well-buttered 1 to 1 ¼ litre/ 2 to 2 ½ pint soufflé dish. Put in the centre of a moderately hot oven (190C/375F or Gas No.5)
Bake for 45 minutes. Soufflé should be well risen with a high, golden crown
Remove from the oven and serve immediately
It is VITAL not to open the oven door while the Soufflé is baking or it will fall
On the eve of official publication day, here’s a recipe that Mandy would approve of. I remember my grandmother serving liver regularly. Offal is dirt cheap and I’m told by my fella and sons that this is extremely tasty. Personally, I’d rather eat my own tongue, but hey-ho, we’re all different. I’m including a photograph of the book, because it’s lovely to have one to hold and sniff. Forget the smell of cooking, there’s nothing to beat freshly printed pages!
You will need:
250g/8oz calves’ or lambs’ liver
2 level tablespoons flour
Salt and pepper
300ml/ ½ pint milk
2-3 tablespoons double cream
Cut liver into small pieces
Roll in flour seasoned with salt and pepper
Fry gently in hot butter until cooked through and golden brown. Stir in remaining flour
Gradually blend in milk. Cook slowly, stirring, until mixture thickens. Simmer for 5 minutes
Stir in cream
This recipe is from Yorkshire Television’s Farmhouse Kitchen book of 1982 and one that Mandy might have served up to the pickets and children. I love it because it’s such a quirky-but-perfect name and also because the recipe is credited to a Mrs Ruth Brooke & Mrs Sheila Powell of Hove and Portslade, Sussex, which is where I live now!
These dumplings used to be served with a good gravy and, like Yorkshire Puddings, before the meat course. The rule was those that ate most puddings could have most meat, a canny way to save meat! They can also be served as a sweet course with golden syrup.
You will need:
100g/4ozs self-raising whole wheat flour
100g/4oz self-raising white flour
100g/4oz shredded suet
¼ teaspoon of salt
7 to 8 tablespoons of milk
Boiling stock or water
Mix dry ingredients and suet
Mix to stiff dough with milk
Take tablespoons of mixture and form into balls
Have ready a saucepan of boiling stock or water in which the dumplings can be submerged
Slip dumplings into pan and boil for 15/20 minutes
Drain well and serve with a good gravy, or golden syrup!