W.A. Dinner
Feb. 13th, 2006 07:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
janewilliams20Well, that went OK in the end.
Did a LOT of pre-prep Friday night, including starting the Southern Fried Chicken (apparently in this period you soak it in butter-milk overnight). Saturday morning back to the hairdresser to have the dye job they did last weekend corrected (this itme it really covers the roots), and she put it up in a big and beautiful bun for me. Photo book of Victorian hairstyles now out on loan...
Dave picked me up, and gave me the good news. One couple couldn't make it at all - down to 13. And another lady had just discovered she was wheat allergic. We're eating roux-thickened sauces and soups, the chicken's to be coated in flour, he's about to bake the bread - who you gonna call? "Take me to Sainsburys!".
Just so you know, Dove Farm gluten-free flour makes a perfectly good roux, just adjust quantities by feel a bit. The cornbread didn't rise as well as we'd hoped, but it rose a bit. And remember that cheap stock cubes contain wheat, but Knorr ones do not.
Did all the cooking in advance that I felt I could, packed cars, got the lads to take it all down the hall and get the place laid and decorated. Guests turned up at our place and Steve's, were fed coffees and teas. And we nattered, and eventually got changed. This is where I ran into problems - I'd allowed enough time for me to get into corset etc, assuming Dave was there to help. He wasn't, and other people needed to change, and there's only the one bathroom. Kelly was a wonderful ladies maid, but I still ended up arriving at the hall at the time I'd intended to serve food, with much of it still needing final prep, or in some cases, cooking. The prep room is big (enough), the kitchen is tiny.
Right. Dave had put Soup into soup kettle, and on. Wonderful, except the plan had been to stove-top heat it - the kettle doesn't heat from cold all that fast. OK, it needed thinning a bit anyway - kettle of boiling water. Add the sherry, lemon juice, and eggs now, leave them to it. Except that's the slowest electric kettle I've ever met, and that determined a lot of the future. Steve got the oven lit (gas stove, no instructions, no matches). Put pre-roasted sweet potatoes into oven. Slap gammon & cabbage in pressure cooker onto the strongest ring I can find, and hope.
Find fish kettle. Tear pack of cod loin open, arrange in kettle, herbs already in there. Add boiling water when the **** electric kettle produces some. Oh, ****, add cold water, bung it on the two back rings on full. Start the roux for the parsley sauce. Fish boils over, turn it down. Check - yes, fish cooked, good timing. Hand over to Kelly to pull fish from fish kettle (using a proper fish kettle with insert makes life so much easier!) and plate it, while I used the cooking liquor and the chopped parsley to do the sauce. Sauce done, take pan through to prep room, go back and get the veg for the main course started - spuds in pan, with water, turned on.
And now I'm called to go and eat with the rest - this is the trouble, I'm trying to sit at table all lady-like in best dress, AND do the cooking. OK, if I'm being a lady, let me put my hoops on first. Back to prep room, Kelly's doing the same. Pull up everything, try to tie hoops - the ribbon's slipped round and the end's vanished. And a cry from the kitchen as the spuds boil over. Drop hoops, run, yelling "well take it off the heat, then!" Dave does, carefully moving things so now both big pans have their handles over a naked flame. Push him out the way, turn heat down, look at unusuable hoops, hear "come on!" calls from hungry diners, burst into tears.
At this point Kelly, Dave and Steve took over - diners started soup and corn bread, I can have mine in a bit. Kelly did something amazing in the way of re-threading ribbons using a hairpin from her bun as a bodkin. Somehow the fish got plated, garnished (here's the parsley we'd prepared earlier). And I ate my soup, properly hooped, while the rest ate their seconds. Small soup bowls, smaller than I'd allowed for when sorting quantities. Fish brought round while I was eating seconds of soup (hot, this time). Yes, it had worked - sauce a little cold from standing too long, but it was that or let it burn and go lumpy. Good flavour.
Let them clear plates, bowls, etc. Back to the kitchen, turning on thhe deep fat fryer, checking what was done so far and doing the process of transferring to the warming oven. (Er, the oven. The one that had been on at full power since we got there, and was still barely up to keeping things warm. Good job I wasn't using it for cooking!) By now both Kelly and I were in full hoops, in a tiny kitchen.
Boil the kettle (come one, come on!), start the frozen "mini" corn cobs. Hmm, that's not my idea of "mini".
Fryer up to temp nice and fast (this is Far Isles equipment, and we'd bought commercial quality). Time for my first go at deep-frying chicken. Three breasts in the basket - is that all that'll fit? In.... it says eight minutes, test after five. Take big knife - nope, still raw in the middle. Timing ended up being ten minutes for breasts, 15 for thigh joints - good job I hadn't done full quarters as suggested! The coating went far better than I'd expected - it's only a butter-milk soaked joint, coated in seasoned flour, but it puffs up, crisps up, and looks and tastes great.
Took out the gammon and most of the veg, get them serving from that. Chicken will have to go out later. Three batches later, Dave Steve and Maggie took over the chicken, and I went to eat the first lot - yes, they'd saved me some. And it was good. In fact, it was all good. I'd got quantities about right, everything was cooked the right amount, flavour was good.
Due to the two no-shows and one person declaring themselves full, got away with one batch less chicken than expected.
And clear, and on to dessert - which was cold, and other people had brought. Alabama fudge cake (with "W.A." piped on top), apple pie, "Grape Surprise" rapidly renamed "Canister Surprise". Grapes in a mix of cream and yoghurt. And some fresh fruit for the diabetic and the wheat-free lady (she had Canister Surprise, too).
Tea and coffee (in fact only coffee) we brought out the willow pattern china.
And the miracle workers did the washing up, we cleared all our stuff into the prep room to pick up on Sunday, and home to relax with a Jack Daniels. Chatting, harp-twanging, people drifting home and those staying over drifting upstairs. It was good. But next time I do this, I want a kitchen that works!
Did a LOT of pre-prep Friday night, including starting the Southern Fried Chicken (apparently in this period you soak it in butter-milk overnight). Saturday morning back to the hairdresser to have the dye job they did last weekend corrected (this itme it really covers the roots), and she put it up in a big and beautiful bun for me. Photo book of Victorian hairstyles now out on loan...
Dave picked me up, and gave me the good news. One couple couldn't make it at all - down to 13. And another lady had just discovered she was wheat allergic. We're eating roux-thickened sauces and soups, the chicken's to be coated in flour, he's about to bake the bread - who you gonna call? "Take me to Sainsburys!".
Just so you know, Dove Farm gluten-free flour makes a perfectly good roux, just adjust quantities by feel a bit. The cornbread didn't rise as well as we'd hoped, but it rose a bit. And remember that cheap stock cubes contain wheat, but Knorr ones do not.
Did all the cooking in advance that I felt I could, packed cars, got the lads to take it all down the hall and get the place laid and decorated. Guests turned up at our place and Steve's, were fed coffees and teas. And we nattered, and eventually got changed. This is where I ran into problems - I'd allowed enough time for me to get into corset etc, assuming Dave was there to help. He wasn't, and other people needed to change, and there's only the one bathroom. Kelly was a wonderful ladies maid, but I still ended up arriving at the hall at the time I'd intended to serve food, with much of it still needing final prep, or in some cases, cooking. The prep room is big (enough), the kitchen is tiny.
Right. Dave had put Soup into soup kettle, and on. Wonderful, except the plan had been to stove-top heat it - the kettle doesn't heat from cold all that fast. OK, it needed thinning a bit anyway - kettle of boiling water. Add the sherry, lemon juice, and eggs now, leave them to it. Except that's the slowest electric kettle I've ever met, and that determined a lot of the future. Steve got the oven lit (gas stove, no instructions, no matches). Put pre-roasted sweet potatoes into oven. Slap gammon & cabbage in pressure cooker onto the strongest ring I can find, and hope.
Find fish kettle. Tear pack of cod loin open, arrange in kettle, herbs already in there. Add boiling water when the **** electric kettle produces some. Oh, ****, add cold water, bung it on the two back rings on full. Start the roux for the parsley sauce. Fish boils over, turn it down. Check - yes, fish cooked, good timing. Hand over to Kelly to pull fish from fish kettle (using a proper fish kettle with insert makes life so much easier!) and plate it, while I used the cooking liquor and the chopped parsley to do the sauce. Sauce done, take pan through to prep room, go back and get the veg for the main course started - spuds in pan, with water, turned on.
And now I'm called to go and eat with the rest - this is the trouble, I'm trying to sit at table all lady-like in best dress, AND do the cooking. OK, if I'm being a lady, let me put my hoops on first. Back to prep room, Kelly's doing the same. Pull up everything, try to tie hoops - the ribbon's slipped round and the end's vanished. And a cry from the kitchen as the spuds boil over. Drop hoops, run, yelling "well take it off the heat, then!" Dave does, carefully moving things so now both big pans have their handles over a naked flame. Push him out the way, turn heat down, look at unusuable hoops, hear "come on!" calls from hungry diners, burst into tears.
At this point Kelly, Dave and Steve took over - diners started soup and corn bread, I can have mine in a bit. Kelly did something amazing in the way of re-threading ribbons using a hairpin from her bun as a bodkin. Somehow the fish got plated, garnished (here's the parsley we'd prepared earlier). And I ate my soup, properly hooped, while the rest ate their seconds. Small soup bowls, smaller than I'd allowed for when sorting quantities. Fish brought round while I was eating seconds of soup (hot, this time). Yes, it had worked - sauce a little cold from standing too long, but it was that or let it burn and go lumpy. Good flavour.
Let them clear plates, bowls, etc. Back to the kitchen, turning on thhe deep fat fryer, checking what was done so far and doing the process of transferring to the warming oven. (Er, the oven. The one that had been on at full power since we got there, and was still barely up to keeping things warm. Good job I wasn't using it for cooking!) By now both Kelly and I were in full hoops, in a tiny kitchen.
Boil the kettle (come one, come on!), start the frozen "mini" corn cobs. Hmm, that's not my idea of "mini".
Fryer up to temp nice and fast (this is Far Isles equipment, and we'd bought commercial quality). Time for my first go at deep-frying chicken. Three breasts in the basket - is that all that'll fit? In.... it says eight minutes, test after five. Take big knife - nope, still raw in the middle. Timing ended up being ten minutes for breasts, 15 for thigh joints - good job I hadn't done full quarters as suggested! The coating went far better than I'd expected - it's only a butter-milk soaked joint, coated in seasoned flour, but it puffs up, crisps up, and looks and tastes great.
Took out the gammon and most of the veg, get them serving from that. Chicken will have to go out later. Three batches later, Dave Steve and Maggie took over the chicken, and I went to eat the first lot - yes, they'd saved me some. And it was good. In fact, it was all good. I'd got quantities about right, everything was cooked the right amount, flavour was good.
Due to the two no-shows and one person declaring themselves full, got away with one batch less chicken than expected.
And clear, and on to dessert - which was cold, and other people had brought. Alabama fudge cake (with "W.A." piped on top), apple pie, "Grape Surprise" rapidly renamed "Canister Surprise". Grapes in a mix of cream and yoghurt. And some fresh fruit for the diabetic and the wheat-free lady (she had Canister Surprise, too).
Tea and coffee (in fact only coffee) we brought out the willow pattern china.
And the miracle workers did the washing up, we cleared all our stuff into the prep room to pick up on Sunday, and home to relax with a Jack Daniels. Chatting, harp-twanging, people drifting home and those staying over drifting upstairs. It was good. But next time I do this, I want a kitchen that works!
