Quick update: Turkey burger weirdness defeated

Remember these? From this post? 

Well, as per this week's meal plan I tried them again. Almost exactly the same except I added a dessert spoon of oil to the turkey mix and fried them in a non stick pan with a spray or two of Fry light. 

Fried for about 8 minutes per side (I cut one in half to check it was cooked through) they were perfectly cooked through and not at all dry. Whilst M still isn't going to go near them because of the coriander, they were far more to my taste. I had them by themselves - although I had planned to have them with veggies. Honestly, after a day of waiting around I just couldn't be bothered. 

In summary, add that extra desert spoon of unflavoured oil to your turkey mix, fry don't bake, and don't serve to people who loathe coriander. Job done. A success all around. 

I do love it when a plan comes together. 

Take me or leave me? Thai spiced turkey burger weirdness

I love to cook, really I do. Part of that is about choosing new recipes, tweaking old and generally finding my way in the sea of available ingredients. That said, since I came into my own cooking wise in what? 2007 or so, I've changed both the way I cook and eat. For the better, I hope. In 2007 as my old flatmate will testify, I ate a lot of stir fries, made up of salmon or chicken and a shedload of veggies mainly. So this weekend I decided to retro, back to 2007 – the year of the stir fry. Instead of salmon or chicken and dousing the veg in honey and soy I decided to experiment with my protein and make something akin to a spiced turkey burger – equally you could make this in any shape and find a better name for it. I would if I could think of one. Really I would.

It all sounds good so far doesn’t it? But it wasn’t, and it’s not often I blog about something I cook that is a disaster, however, this fits that bill. There are so many things I would do differently about this meal. Oh so many. Here’s the list in fact:

·        The turkey burgers were epically dry – I chose to make these out of turkey for two reasons 1) It’s so much  cheaper than chicken and Asda were out of free range chicken and 2) It’s low fat, and thus good for the diet – but dear lord it was dry. I’ve been wracking my brains to try and find ways to make them less dry but not less diet friendly. I’m failing.

·        Freeze dried noodles do not last for ever. I brought these over from M’s house when he moved. They were off.

·        M doesn’t like coriander. To be fair he didn’t know this, so I didn’t know this but it’s never complimentary when your partner asks why their dinner tastes of Fairy liquid. Epic.

But apparently I’m still blogging it. No, I’m not sure why either.

Unlike most things I cook, you really do need a food processor for this. Or use turkey mince and chop stuff like your life depended on it

Weird turkey burger things: consider this a challenge to make them non disastrous if you will.

3 Turkey breast fillets

Bunch spring onions

3 cloves garlic

Lemongrass, bruised and chopped

1 red chilli, de-seeded and chopped

Thumb sized piece of ginger, grated

Bunch coriander chopped (or not as the case may be)

3 dessert spoons fish sauce

Veg for a stir fry – I used cabbage, carrots, mushrooms, courgettes, edamame beans and beansprouts

2 portions noodles (I usually use rice as they’re my favourite but was being thrifty and using up the ones in the cupboard)

Soy sauce and a splash of honey

Preheat oven to 200 degrees C and put a baking tray in there to heat up too

Whizz the garlic, chilli, ginger, lemongrass and spring onions up in the food processor. Add the turkey and fish sauce and pulse until the mixture starts to come together (you don’t want it too chunky but neither do you want it to look like baby food)

Make these into meatball/ burger/ sausage* (delete as appropriate) shapes using wet or (and I just thought of this) lightly oiled hands.

Take the baking tray out of the oven and put the burger-y things on it, spacing them a little way apart. I made about 12 mini burger sized ones. Return back to the oven and cook for 30 minutes

While they’re cooking, stir fry your veg in a little oil with added garlic, chilli and ginger.

Cook the noodles and stir through the vegetables. Add honey and soy while the pan is on the heat and stir everything through.

Serve with the turkey burger-y things, in bowls. Try to ignore your boyfriend desperately trying to eat them. Also try to ignore the fact that the noodles taste weird and the turkey is dry.

To be fair, if M hadn’t discovered that he hated coriander and the noodles weren’t past their best it would have been really tasty. If a little dry. I would definitely do it again for me. In fact I might make up a batch for the freezer and have them with sweet chilli sauce when M’s away. Oooh! Plan!

Strange Magic? My Domestic disasters

Being a food blogger you'd thing that my days of disastrous domesticity were far behind me. Languishing in the land time forgot. Or something. If only. For years now my kitchen has been home to a veritable host of things exploding, burning, inexplicably breaking, or just failing. I've mentioned once or twice how I'm not enamoured with the macaron obsession that seems prevalent at the moment. I was there with cupcakes, skipped over whoopie pies, am all over cake pops, but macarons? Not so much. Truth be told, each time I read a post about them, see them on the television or read an article in Delicious or Sainsbury's Magazine about them I react in much the same way to Doctor Who. When I was 8. In a feat of hitherto unseen gymnastic ability, I vault the sofa, wedging myself in the space between that and my bookcase until the shaking and sweating desists and I can breathe normally again. M is dispatched to "turn the page!" or "hide the pastel monstrosities!" while I consider the dust bunnies that seem to co-exist quite happily with my collection of Margaret Atwood novels. Then, once again I am safe, secure in the knowledge that not only will I never try to make macarons, but that I quite happily prefer the rusticity (it's a word) of almond macaroons. And have completed an in depth local survey and taste testing to find the best in the North London area. Muswell Hill's french cafe, patisserie. The one where I was introduced to M's parents for the first time.

So other than my innate (and some would say irrational) fear of macarons, what other domestic disasters can I regale you with. Well recently my much beloved Le Creuset casserole exploded. Yes, exploded. I'm still finding pieces of earthenware after about fifty attempts at hoovering and sweeping. I made cauliflower cheese. It's a relatively new addition to things I make, and I like to spike it with bacon or chorizo and cherry tomatoes. Just to break up the cheesiness (again, yes it's a word). Broccoli works well as an addition and a large dollop of mustard to the sauce works wonders. So, all components ready, in everything went, covered by a thick, unctuous cheese sauce. Into my (Christmas present) Le Creuset casserole, and into the oven at about 180. Half an hour later, oven gloved up, I removed the dish to the wooden chopping board I keep by the side of the oven. Put it down, turned around to get a plate only to hear the strangest noise. Then a huge BANG! I whisked around like a small Guidery dervish only to witness my beloved casserole in pieces over the chopping board, and large quantities (surely I didn't make that much?) of cauliflower cheese making a bid for my newly washed floor. I can't repeat the language that then ensued, but let's just say the air was blue and the floor delicately frosted with cheese sauce and decorated with cauliflower florets.


Mind you, these disasters aren't the first of their kind. I do come from a long line of women who only need to look at a kettle for it to whistle it's last. My mother goes through kettles like other women go through chocolate. Last week the lever you press to turn mine on. Just. Fell. Off. I only looked at it, and thought - oooh tea, at which point it decided that life in general was too much like hard work and lemminged to an unsuperglueable fate.


Never one to take all the blame for a disaster, of course there's the times I fall asleep and no one wakes me. I take fairly heavy going medication for my epilepsy, and have suffered with chronic pain since 2009 - at the moment it's migraines, back then it was a bad back. A lot of the medication I take makes me sleepy, so it's not unbeknown for me to put something in the oven, or on the hob and have a sit down. Hours later I'm roused by the bitter scent of burning pan or to the sound of a frantic smoke alarm. Fruit compotes, soups and casseroles have all gone this way. I'm getting better at scraping off the burnt bits these days. Food is too expensive to bin on a regular basis.


And then of course there was the time (10 years or so ago?) I poisoned my sister *waves* Hi Mandy! with an undercooked creme brulee. I followed the recipe exactly, but would the b****r thicken? Would it hell! In the end, after seemingly hours of whisking, I consigned said brulee to the ramekins, in a roasting tin of boiling water, whilst declaring "Well I'm sure that's how Nigella does it" Flippantly sure that they would thicken up in the oven. They didn't. Watery custard anyone? No, me neither. Gallantly Mandy decided to brave one and spent the next few days being violently ill. I am convinced-ish it was a virus, she's less so. I say potato you say po-tah-to? Anyone? Just me then.


So yes, domestic disasters. Tell me I'm not alone in my irrational fears, exploding dishes, suicidal kettles, and ability to poison my sister.... please?

This post is my entry to be a Foodies 100 Morphy Richards innovator