Are you a fan of cookery programmes? We love 'em. Being children of the sparse Fanny and Johnny/Galloping Gourmet TV era, the veritable banquet of such programmes today is like beluga caviar to people like us.
But there's one thing that gives us indigestion. I challenge you to watch one of these programmes without the chef telling you, at least twice or fifteen times, "this is very simple to make ..." as they assemble 23 ingredients, 8 bowls, two whisks and several gadgets that no domestic kitchen could ever even source. Take Ray White for example, tonight I watched him prepare a 'very simple' dessert of apple soufflé served in a hollowed out, lined and baked apple. As if it wasn't enough to watch him preparing this simple dessert in a matter of TV edited moments, he then suggested serving it on a fluffy cloud of sabayon and garnishing it with small pieces of caramelised apple - very simple to make - and small dollops of apple jelly - an absolute doddle apparently if you happen to have apple juice, agar flakes and several spare hours to hand, a quenelle of exquisitely home made apple sorbet (which is simplicity-on-a-plate if you happen to own a professional ice-cream maker) and all this garnished with a wafer thin apple crisp - so simple that he didn't even show us how to make it. I put it to you that this dish would take a normal person around seventeen hours to prepare. Oh s'il vous plait Monsieur Blanc! Voilà, anyone could do that.
A couple of Saturdays ago, James Martin on Saturday Kitchen must have told us nine or ten times how very simple the dish he was cooking was. I can't remember what it was now. I sort of lost the will to live at the fifth simple saucepan and eighteenth simple ingredient.
We indoors like to think we can cook (although those who saw our inaugural TV appearance a few weeks ago may disagree) but like Shirley Conran, I think life really is too short to stuff a mushroom, hollow out an apple or fashion an espresso cup and saucer from liquid chocolate.
How the hell, I often wonder, do these chefs define the word 'simple'? So come on you cheffy guys, just stop it with all this ridiculously simple stuff. You can take the heat, you're in the kitchen! Show us what you're made of and cook something really complex for a change. I can hardly wait ...
Showing posts with label cooking programme BBC2. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cooking programme BBC2. Show all posts
Monday, 1 March 2010
Wednesday, 10 February 2010
I'm cooking on television!
Hold the front page, I'm going to be on the telly. Yes, I really am. It's a bit of a thing in my family, my brother works for the BBC and he's on all the time. I admit it, he makes me jealous. It's like, I mean like, I totally crave celebrity - know what I mean like? - for no other reason than to be invited to onto Strictly Come Dancing. I can see it now - the dancing, the sparkly dresses, the make-up, the exercise, the weight loss, the having a little affair with my dance partner ... Anyway, I digress.
My programme is much less sparkly and is called Instant Restaurant. To be broadcast on the posh channel, BBC2, on Tuesday 16th February at 17.15h, it's part of a 20-part series commencing the day before, on Monday 15th February. I have no idea what it's going to be like.
And so it came to pass that one day back in October, I spent around ten hours cooking in my kitchen, with my husband and a film crew - well, the film crew weren't cooking, they were filming. But my husband was cooking because truth be told, in many ways, he's a better cook than me. But we had to elect one of us to be chief cook. On the day and for one day only, he played sous-chef which makes a change because usually he's a bit of a kitchen bully. Very bossy and strict about whipping, stirring, chopping and keeping the granite worktops shiny and clean, he believes that there's a right way of doing things, that's his way. But for that one glorious day he had to follow my orders or at least, pretend to. I was allowed two 'helpers' and the second chosen one was my stepson, the gorgeous investment banker Joseph who made such a hit as 'maitre d' that he generated a generous 'service charge'.
Anyway, the ten hours that the film crew spent filming us has been edited down to around twenty minutes (or less) for the forty-five minute programme and I have no idea of what it's going to be like as I haven't seen it. No doubt it will include every mistake, every cross word and every mopping of the sweat off our brows. The day was fun but stressful and beyond exhausting. I'm scared, I'm very, very scared.
The premise of Instant Restaurant is that two amateur cooks go head to head to see if they've got what it takes to create a restaurant in their own homes for one night only - and make a profit. The profit came from ten diners who were allowed to pay what they thought the meal was worth plus whatever we didn't spend of the original food budget of £20 per head. We were asked to create a three course menu with two choices per course which meant, when it boils down to it - and you get a 'jus' -cooking six courses. This we did between approximately 10.00h (when the crew showed up) and 18.30h (when we served). Advance preparation was forbidden so it was hard,hard work. The series will be presented by the very charming Nadia Sawalha.
I guess what the edited show may not make clear is that on the day of cooking, I had no idea of whom I was competing with. None of us 'cooks' knew who our competition was. That only came out some weeks later when we were eventually brought together at the unlikely venue of a conference centre in Cheshunt where we were filmed 'chatting' to Nadia and reacting to being told how much profit we had made, ergo whether we had won. I won''t spoil the surprise for you by divulging the winner but my competitor was a Moroccan lady who cooked about 153 great sounding dishes. As I told her, I'm sure my husband would like an invite round her gaff.
Before we agreed to participate, we spent hours carefully questioning the production company about how they would recruit the ten mystery diners. We weren't allowed to invite any of our friends or family or anyone who knew us or who knew anyone who knew us. We were told that the production company would advertise locally, in the local (excellent) paper and by putting up notices in all of Hampstead's lovely little local food-type shops; the delicatessen, the fishmonger and maybe our local Waitrose. We were to expect a posse of Hampstead 'foodies' and perhaps a local chef and/or food critic. We planned our menu accordingly.
Well, none of that happened.
I think what probably happened is that one day in the planning process, whoever was in charge of recruiting diners thought to themselves, "...hang on a frigging minute! There are twenty programmes with two cooks per programme. That equals forty dinners. That means finding 400 diners! Holy Moly, that's a lot of people to find and we haven't got the budget". At that point, they gave up the ghost and bunged a notice up on their website, then taking whoever applied.
We were lucky because the ten who turned up on the night were absolutely charming lovely people but there wasn't a chef, a critic or what I'd call a 'foodie' amongst them and had we known, we'd have planned a totally different menu. (I give you this nugget as background lest you think us completely insane and totally out of touch with reality when you see the show.)
Just before I go, things to look out for on the night are the hollandaise, Jeff's melba toast, my neighbour's beautiful sculptures and proof positive that you just can't run a restaurant from a domestic kitchen with no plate warmer.
My programme is much less sparkly and is called Instant Restaurant. To be broadcast on the posh channel, BBC2, on Tuesday 16th February at 17.15h, it's part of a 20-part series commencing the day before, on Monday 15th February. I have no idea what it's going to be like.
And so it came to pass that one day back in October, I spent around ten hours cooking in my kitchen, with my husband and a film crew - well, the film crew weren't cooking, they were filming. But my husband was cooking because truth be told, in many ways, he's a better cook than me. But we had to elect one of us to be chief cook. On the day and for one day only, he played sous-chef which makes a change because usually he's a bit of a kitchen bully. Very bossy and strict about whipping, stirring, chopping and keeping the granite worktops shiny and clean, he believes that there's a right way of doing things, that's his way. But for that one glorious day he had to follow my orders or at least, pretend to. I was allowed two 'helpers' and the second chosen one was my stepson, the gorgeous investment banker Joseph who made such a hit as 'maitre d' that he generated a generous 'service charge'.
Anyway, the ten hours that the film crew spent filming us has been edited down to around twenty minutes (or less) for the forty-five minute programme and I have no idea of what it's going to be like as I haven't seen it. No doubt it will include every mistake, every cross word and every mopping of the sweat off our brows. The day was fun but stressful and beyond exhausting. I'm scared, I'm very, very scared.
The premise of Instant Restaurant is that two amateur cooks go head to head to see if they've got what it takes to create a restaurant in their own homes for one night only - and make a profit. The profit came from ten diners who were allowed to pay what they thought the meal was worth plus whatever we didn't spend of the original food budget of £20 per head. We were asked to create a three course menu with two choices per course which meant, when it boils down to it - and you get a 'jus' -cooking six courses. This we did between approximately 10.00h (when the crew showed up) and 18.30h (when we served). Advance preparation was forbidden so it was hard,hard work. The series will be presented by the very charming Nadia Sawalha.
I guess what the edited show may not make clear is that on the day of cooking, I had no idea of whom I was competing with. None of us 'cooks' knew who our competition was. That only came out some weeks later when we were eventually brought together at the unlikely venue of a conference centre in Cheshunt where we were filmed 'chatting' to Nadia and reacting to being told how much profit we had made, ergo whether we had won. I won''t spoil the surprise for you by divulging the winner but my competitor was a Moroccan lady who cooked about 153 great sounding dishes. As I told her, I'm sure my husband would like an invite round her gaff.
Before we agreed to participate, we spent hours carefully questioning the production company about how they would recruit the ten mystery diners. We weren't allowed to invite any of our friends or family or anyone who knew us or who knew anyone who knew us. We were told that the production company would advertise locally, in the local (excellent) paper and by putting up notices in all of Hampstead's lovely little local food-type shops; the delicatessen, the fishmonger and maybe our local Waitrose. We were to expect a posse of Hampstead 'foodies' and perhaps a local chef and/or food critic. We planned our menu accordingly.
Well, none of that happened.
I think what probably happened is that one day in the planning process, whoever was in charge of recruiting diners thought to themselves, "...hang on a frigging minute! There are twenty programmes with two cooks per programme. That equals forty dinners. That means finding 400 diners! Holy Moly, that's a lot of people to find and we haven't got the budget". At that point, they gave up the ghost and bunged a notice up on their website, then taking whoever applied.
We were lucky because the ten who turned up on the night were absolutely charming lovely people but there wasn't a chef, a critic or what I'd call a 'foodie' amongst them and had we known, we'd have planned a totally different menu. (I give you this nugget as background lest you think us completely insane and totally out of touch with reality when you see the show.)
Just before I go, things to look out for on the night are the hollandaise, Jeff's melba toast, my neighbour's beautiful sculptures and proof positive that you just can't run a restaurant from a domestic kitchen with no plate warmer.
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