Friday, November 7, 2008

PR XII Shepherd :s Pie

7 november 2008, jumat malam,

PR lagi nih..kali ini giliran Liza yang nentuin...judulnya Shepherds Pie, wadoh, kayak apaan ya rasanya...penasaran? boleh liat di resep n nyobain bikin deh

Bahan
5 bh kentang kupas potong2
1/2 sdt garam
100 ml susu cair
2 sdm mentega
20 gr keju permesan parut
1/4 sdt merica
1 bh telur kocok

Isi
2 sdm margarin
100 gr bwg bombai cincang
1 bh wortel cincang halus
200 gr daging cincang
2 sdm saos tomat
100 ml kaldu ayam
1/4 sdt garam, gula , merica
100 gr kacang polong
100 gr brokoli rebus
3 bh tomat mini, potong tipis

Cara
1. Panaskan oven 180 drajat. Kukus kentang hingga matang, angkat, lumatkan
Tambah garam, susu, mentega, aduk rata. Masukkan keju n merica, aduk sisihkan
2. Untuk isi, lelehkan mentega di wajan, api sedang. Tumis bwg bombai, masukkan wortel, aduk. Masukkan daging cincang, masak mpe matang
3. Tambah saos tomat, aduk. Tuang kaldu, garam, merica, gula, aduk rata. didihkan,
masukkan kacang polong, n brokoli
4. Tuang adonan ke wajan anti panas, tutup atasnya dengan kentang. Tuangkan telur kocok diatasnya, taburi keju lalu panggang 30 menit.

Husband suka banget ma masakan ini, katanya boleh sering sering bikin, ato kalo ada temen datang, boleh disuguhin masakan ini...wahh wahh...
sapa yg mo datang nih??

We are almost official

Officially part of Cincinnati that is. Today our new cell phones and numbers came in the mail. It is nice having a new phone, but it is definitely not fun putting all my contact numbers in from my old cell.

We also found out we finally got pre-approved for a loan this week. There is one house we are interested in and we are going to go look at 4 more next Sunday. Hopefully after that we can make a decision. I also finally found out how much I am making at work and they just got all my paperwork figured out this week too.

I am so glad it is the weekend. Work has been busy and I am just tired and ready to relax!!

Behold I Tell You A Mystery


Behold I tell you a mystery…..
In my vocation death is an ever-present reality, a constant that infuses the very pores of life. Not only do I encounter the intimate moments of transition in my own family and with my own friends, I am also invited into many of the life/death experiences of those who call me their pastor.

“Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed…”

Paul, in writing to the church at Corinth, spoke an understatement when he said that death will change us. Each moment of relationship that we encounter in life is magnified when we re-member, when we put back together, those moments of our lives that have intersected with those moments of another person who has died.

The unknown (to us, not God) writer of Hebrews was not wrong when he or she suggests that “Since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” It suggests that all who passed on are still with us spiritually and they give us the strength to “finish the race” ourselves.

Death is a mystery and even in the midst of life we are being changed because of it.

Here are some other thoughts on the mystery:

Krishna, in the second chapter of The Bhagavad-Gita:
Thou grievest for those that may not be lamented, whilst thy sentiments are those of the expounders of the letter of the law. Those who are wise in spiritual things grieve neither for the dead nor for the living.
I myself never was not, nor thou, nor all the princes of the earth; nor shall we ever hereafter cease to be. As the lord of this mortal frame experienceth therein infancy, youth, and old age, so in future incarnations will it meet the same. One who is confirmed in this belief is not disturbed by anything that may come to pass.
... Seek this wisdom by doing service, by strong search, by questions, and by humility; the wise who see the truth will communicate it unto thee, and knowing which thou shalt never again fall into error. By this knowledge thou shalt see all things and creatures whatsoever in thyself and then in me.

Kahlil Gibran On Death
You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.

a lil bit

hp ni. masih tak berbunyi. 5 minutes b4 12am...

alhamdulilah. selamat sampai setiawangsa ptg td.

thanks mama ngah & abah ngah, teh, cik 4 everything.

and not forgotten, kak lin. sbb hantar g bus station.

well. my life now? hurm. i guess I'm lucky.

great family. friends. life. love..? erm.

semuanya okayh. just have to push myself harder.

to study. 4 this upcoming exam. it's next week! huhu...

it feel great to loved & to be loved. i hope it's for real.

don't wanna get hurt anymore. just wanna b happy.

insya Allah. hey... kalau nak main2, cari org lain eh?

i'm missing my best friend. even we're miles apart.

praying that all my good friends

will always stay the same.

i'm trying to live my life the way it should be.

try to learn more n more bout life.

hoping that tomorrow,
would b better than today...

Home Charcuterie Part Two – Making Pâté

After whetting my charcuterie whistle with a rip-roaring rillettes success, I thought the creation of something a little more adventurous might be in order. Being without certain items such as a meat grinder, nitrates and sausage casings, salamis and their ilk were out. I didn’t fancy smoking anything (not on a week night, at least) and I didn’t have the patience for curing. This left pâté.

If you have ever felt the pressing urge to experience life as a mentally unhinged doctor from a late Victorian gothic horror or empathise with the deranged protagonist in a David Cronenberg movie, then making pâté is an excellent place to start.

If, on the other hand, you prefer to see your food neatly packaged in cellophane bearing no resemblance to any living creature or are liable to feel a little nauseous at the sight of blood and guts then I’d advise you stay away. Well away. This isn’t for the faint of heart or the weak of constitution.

All good pâté begins with liver. Liver, like all offal, is a foodstuff that featured rarely in my childhood and only now am I tip-toeing into this murky world. My only memory of liver was being presented with a seething brown mass topped with a hemi-sphere of mashed potato during one school dinner. It’s liver, I was told.

With a trembling fork I lifted the tiniest possible piece to my mouth and took it between my teeth. I remember the harsh ferric smell and the gritty texture. I remember the dark brown colour and the slimy grey onions in the drab gravy. And I remember a swelling tide of bile making its way up my gullet as the weird meat like substance shifted around my mouth. I sat there for what felt like days whilst it congealed and grew cold on my plate. Just eat half, said my primary school teacher. Half? Oh good god, please no.

I don’t remember the outcome, perhaps I blacked out or have packaged away the memory somewhere deep in my sub-conscious but that was my last experience with liver: as a timid six year old far, far away from the comforts of my mother’s cooking surrounded by giant teachers and snotty nosed compatriots who all seemed to be able to eat the disgusting bubbling brown mess on their plates without too much trouble. I went home that day and asked, nay demanded, that I take a packed lunch to school every day.

But the scars could not have been that deep because last week while at the butchers I spotted some fresh pig’s liver on the counter and was intrigued enough to buy it. Much like with rillettes, the constituent parts of pâté are cheap. For a little under three pounds I was able to buy a kilo of organically reared Gloucestershire Old Spot liver from a pig I was assured had led a happy life. This would be enough to make a large loaf of pâté, about a kilo and a half in total. Considering you pay about three quid for a tiny slice of the good stuff in a deli, this was too good a bargain to miss.

Having only ever made chicken liver pâté, I assumed, wrongly, that the process would be the same no matter which animal’s dark organ was lying on the counter. Slice, fry in butter, add booze, blitz in a food processor then leave in the fridge covered in a layer of melted butter.

It soon became apparent that this wasn’t the case. Instead the liver needed to be picked over (to remove any weird bits of I don’t know what), sliced and processed along with some breadcrumbs, milk, onion and a little pork shoulder to add a more meaty texture. This is fine when you are in possession of a full sized food processor. When you have one of these:



…it becomes a little trickier and a lot more time consuming.

I used the catch-all recipe from HFW’s River Cottage Meat Book and so was prepared to get a little mucky during the process. What I wasn’t prepared for is just how sticky raw liver is. It behaves like some weird 1950s B-movie monster gradually sliding across the plate, finding its own level and seemingly multiplying at will. By the time it had been picked over and sliced, it appeared to have doubled in volume and I was growing increasingly concerned as to whether it would fit into the loaf tin I had prepared.

The next step was to blitz up the various ingredients in my tiny food processor. Fine, I thought, no problems here. The resultant gloop (half an hour of whizzing, pouring, scraping and refilling) was, quite frankly, disturbing and if you’ve never tried to mince pork shoulder with a stick blender I don’t recommend trying. By the time everything had been thoroughly mixed and blitzed and processed I was slightly concerned that my sleep time would be plagued with horrific visions.

Regular readers will know that I don’t squeam easily. I’ve gutted things, I’ve cooked trotters and ears, I’ve sniffed and munched on durian, I’ve tried century eggs and even come very, very close to eating salted bugs (until a small Thai lady shook her head with a slightly concerned expression on her face) but a pork liver smoothie was almost too much. Almost. Thee are no pictures, for obvious reasons.

For the cooking, the mixture (‘pretend it’s a cake, pretend it’s a cake, pretend it’s a cake…oh jeez it’s pink and lumpy and smells like wet rust) was seasoned and poured (more like slopped) into a loaf tin and covered with a double layer of buttered foil before being placed into a roasting pan filled with water. After an hour or so in the oven, warm meaty smells were starting to fill the kitchen and it was removed from the bain marie ready to be pressed (cue enormous heavy wooden chopping board) and cooled.

By this time it was getting late and the prospect of homemade pâté that had only recently looked like a special effect was not too appealing, so I waited hoping that time and a sleep would ease my prejudice.



Which is exactly what happened. I had my first slice for lunch the following day and was completely, utterly, totally and unashamedly won over by the flavour and general texture. It wasn’t coarse like a pâté de campagne but nor was it too smooth. It had enough resistance to be meaty and a subtle taste that was nothing like the iron-y tang of liver. Definitely one to be recommended.

www.justcookit.co.uk