Monthly Archives: July 2011

Recipe Shed: How to make…Heston Blumenthal’s Thrice-Cooked Chips

Heston Blumenthal's thrice cooked chips
Nothing beats a perfectly cooked chip. Crunchy and golden on the outside, fluffy, white and melt-in-the-mouth on the inside. And the way to create the perfect chip is to cook them not once, not twice, but three times. I have been cooking my chips this way ever since I followed Heston Blumenthal’s recipe for them. Once you’ve tried them, you will never look back. And you don’t even need a deep-fat fryer to make them. Just a deep frying pan will suffice.

(Update: Since I posted this I’ve had such fantastic feedback that I’ve decided to enter them into a competition for potato recipes. Please vote for me if you think they’re worth it. Ta. The place to go is http://www.lovethegarden.com/blog/potty-about-potatoes)

Makes enough for 2 people

1 litre vegetable, sunflower or groundnut oil
4-5 large floury potatoes. I use Maris Piper or King Edward’s
Sea salt

STAGE 1: PARBOIL
Bring a large saucepan of water to the boil. Meanwhile, peel and cut the potatoes into thickness of your liking. I like a combination of different thicknesses and lengths so you get different textures with the end result. Carefully lower the potatoes into the boiling water and reduce to a simmer. Cook for 10-15 mins, carefully monitoring. You want the potatoes to be very tender, with ragged edges – a few moments before they would collapse and make soup! Remove fromthe heat, drain in a colander or sieve, and plunge into cold water to stop the cooking process. Drain again, then transfer to a plate and leave to air-dry.You can put them in the fridge until later, or even overnight. They also freeze well.

 
STAGE 2: FIRST-FRY
This stage removes the moisture from the cold chips and allows them to be crisp in the final stage. Pour the oil into a deep-sided frying pan and heat over a medium flame until a cold chip placed in it creates a gentle sizzle. Fry the cold chips in batches, so as not to overcrowd the pan. Turn the chips from time to time, taking care not to burn them. Each batch should take 10-12 mins. When they are slightly wrinkly and pale yellow, removethe chipsĀ  from the oil and drain on kitchen paper.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


STAGE 3: FINAL-FRY

Heat the same oil as in Stage 2 until it starts to smoke. Again, cook the chips in batches until they become very crispy and a deep golden colour, approx. 4-5 mins per batch. Carefully remove from the oil with a slotted spoon. Drain on kitchen paper and sprinkle with sea salt. Serve with whatever you fancy, but they go particularly well with steak and Stilton mushrooms, with a dollop of mustard.

 

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Silent Sunday

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I was fed up taking the kids to the park every day. So I had a brilliant idea…

One of the most short-sighted decisions we ever made was buying a flat without a garden. We have a roof terrace, yes, but it’s not ideal for young children whose idea of fun is throwing sand over the balcony onto the neighbour’s conservatory and cars below us.

Without a garden, our three children have to be accompanied on outdoor activities all the friggin’ time. To the park, to the playground, to wherever the great outdoors might tempt them. Sometimes, going along with them is great fun. Often I can just read a newspaper while they get on with swinging around on bars like spider monkeys or spinning around on roundabouts until they’re sick or climbing trees until they fall off. But other times, it’s just deadly dull.

I’m 47 year old; I’m knackered; often hungover. I’ve never been a mushroom who likes parties (I’m not a ‘fungi’, in case you’re wondering).

So on Monday, instead of feeling obliged to take my three to the playground after their cookery club activties (of which more next week), I bought them a paddling pool.

I almost burst my lungs blowing it up; they took about an hour to fill it with water, using watering cans. But when it was finally ready, they changed itno their swimming gear and plunged in.

For all of 5 minutes. Ten, max.

And that was that. It’s stayed on the terrace ever since, the water going stagnant, attracting flies, which duly drown. It will be all mossy by next week. And I’ll be at the playground, reading my paper.

 

 

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To anyone else, it’s a broken cup. But to me…

I’ve never been sentimental about possessions. There are only a handful of things I would rescue if the house was on fire (after the wife and kids, of course). One is the Gibson Explorer electric guitar I brought back from the States when I worked there 20 years ago; the other is my late mother’s cap, which I’ve written about before.

And then there is my tea mug.

This was made for me by my stepdaughter and eldest son at a pottery workshop long before their brother came along. They imprinted and glazed their then 5ive and two-year-old hands on it, and their mother wrote their names across the bottom. And since then I have refused to have a cuppa of my favourite Darjeeling ever since.

Until yesterday when said new brother was ‘helping’ me unload the dishwasher.

Ooops. Crash. ‘Sorry, Guyee.’

The handle smashed in three places. My heart broke in several more.

I didn’t really realise how much I cherished it until that moment.

My feelings were so palpable that the three year-old went straight to his room without being asked, which shattered my heart into even more fragments.

I followed him in with the broken mug and explained to him that accidents happened. But he wouldn’t be consoled. I think he sensed how upset I was because even though it was nothing more than an inanimate vessel to drink from, he knew it was precious.

When I explained it to my wife when she came home from work later, she was more circumspect.

‘You’ve lost a cup but gained a pen holder,’ she said.

The best pen holder a writer could ever have.

 

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