Chocolate fondant pudding

Back in the 15th Century, we were ‘treated’ to the War of the Roses - where Richard was dumped in a car park and Henry gave birth to a psychopath  (well, his wife did – he waited outside the room praying for a knob) who ingeniously created his own church. Or did Cromwell do that? Or Anne? I’m not sure but whatever happened, the Pope was very pissed off.

More recently, though, we have enjoyed such delights as the Lord of the Flies, Stig of the Dump, Planet of the Apes, Dawn of the Dead and Night of the Living Dead.

Keeping well within that dynasty, I am now proud to present my own offering: Steak of the Puddings.

It’s not that this pudding is made out of steak or anything; that would be silly, wouldn’t it? Although there is steak and kidney pudding but that’s not ACTUALLY a pudding is it? It’s all very confusing, this pudding malarkey.

So, here is my guide to the Steak of the Puddings:

Steak tartare

I’m not into tartare but my mum is a big advocate, so I thought I should include it. This is where you don’t even consider heating up, let alone cooking, the cake mixture. Instead, you take a spatula and shovel (all of) the raw mixture into your mouth.

Verdict: An acquired taste but this method does have a small group of staunch devotees. Perfect for a break-up.

Blue

Blue is something that, for me, is still a bit extreme. You cook the chocolate only until the outside (the top of the cake) has formed a thin crust. Underneath this crust will lie luke-warm/cool chocolatey mixture.

Verdict: Yum. It’s good – it’s real good but it’s not hot enough and you feel like you might be on the verge of food poisoning.

Rare

Now. NOW. This is where it starts to get good. We’re still not talking about much cake – maybe 2 tablespoons of cake? The rest is a combination of warm chocolate sauce and warm cake mixture. This is my mum’s favourite.

Verdict: You would still look weird if you served this on Come Dine With Me.

Medium

We’re now getting to the point that, when you tip your cake out of the ramekin, there is a sort of cake. It collapses (because there is still too much hot chocolate sauce) but there IS the outline of a cake there. This is where it all starts getting a bit too ‘done’ for my liking.

Verdict: Most people will probably favour this stage because it’s cakey enough to be called a cake. If you’re serving this in public eg: not sitting on your sofa watching back-to-back episodes of Girls, you should perhaps serve it in the ramekin to avoid the splodge.

Well-done

If you tip your cake out and it stands tall, containing its sauce (think M&S advert), you’ve cooked it for too long in my opinion. Your cake to sauce ratio will be all out, resulting in a dry, chewy fondant pudding. No fun at all.

Verdict: Some people insist on having it well-done but only because they’re scared of dying and stupid stuff like that.

I would say that the optimum line of attack with this pudding is medium-rare (see picture).

Unfortunately, I can’t remember where this recipe was from. If any chefs and stuff read my blog (HA HA HA) and this is their recipe, please let me know, ta.

Serves 2

50g butter

A bit of butter, to grease

2 tsp cocoa powder, to dust

50g dark chocolate (you should use dark but I didn’t have any so used milk, which doesn’t give it such a choccy taste or look)

1 egg

1 yolk (massive pain, I know)

50g caster sugar

50g plain flour OR 25g/25g plain/self-raising works well too

1. Preheat your oven to 160c fan or if your oven is very efficient, perhaps 150c fan. If you don’t have a fan oven, add on 20c to each of these temperatures.

2. Butter 2 large ramekins (10cm diameter) and dust liberally with cocoa.

3. Melt chocolate and butter in a bain-marie (or to be honest, the microwave would probably be fine too). Leave to cool for 10 minutes.

4. Whisk egg, yolk and sugar until pale, thick and able to hold a trail.

5. Fold in the chocolate mixture.

6. Sift the flour over the mixture and fold in.

7. Divide the mixture between the ramekins.

8. Bake for 7 minutes (blue), 10 minutes (rare), 12 minutes (medium rare), 14 minutes (medium) – although all times vary according to ovens, so experiment plenty of times to find your optimum style. 

9. Turn out into warm bowls and serve immediately. 

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Chico-Chile - Review

IT'S CHICO (-CHILE) TIME

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Food Review: Chico Chile

Address: 1 Orchard Square, Sheffield S1 2FB



Visit Laura's blog at www.meanmuncher.blogspot.com

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This week, I went rogue, becoming a bit like a gastronomic Jack Bauer: I took the brief (“to review restaurants”), spat on it, trod on it and brutally hurled it into the green recycling paper and cardboard compartment at work. Yep, I went wild.



You see, instead of sauntering out one evening to a restaurant, to take pleasure in the service and the vibes, I decided to review Chico-Chile, a takeaway counter located at the bottom end of Orchard Square.



This place has been around for ages; first called Pirates Pastys and presumably selling pasties, then called Pirates Pastys but selling Mexican chillis and wraps and finally, the owner told me to come back this week for the latest renaissance, where the name finally bears some resemblance to the product. You might call this place the Snoop Lion of the culinary world.

I plumped for the Quorn chilli fajita (£4) and my friend took a diablo chicken burrito (£5). Now, Mexican purists might take issue with these dishes because ‘fajita’ generally refers to grilled slices of meat, served with cheese, onions and peppers, while burritos generally contain refried beans.



However, my chilli fajita (wonderfully outlandish in itself) was stuffed with lovely fresh lettuce and wonderful crunchy pieces of tortilla chip - not traditional, exactly, but both welcome additions.



The burrito was huge and was filled up with rice and (un-fried) kidney beans. We were so bewildered by the size of this wrap that we decided to place it on some postal scales, just to see how much weight we could expect to put on post-consumption. Impressively, it weighed in at just under three quarters of a kilogram.

Just to put that into perspective, 750g is (possibly, sort of) the same weight as a 6-month-old unborn baby and using Royal Mail, it would cost £2.70 to post first class within the UK. Don’t do that though because I’ve heard that posting foetuses is not regarded as particularly PC.



Now, where was I? Oh yes, at the takeaway counter. If you listen carefully, whilst waiting for your order, you will be sure to hear a gentle hum, followed by a distinctive "PING!" I feel I should mention this because some people will immediately and perhaps slightly snobbishly, dismiss these burritos as Subway-in-a-sombrero.



You know what though? Even Heston has claimed that microwaves are the best way to cook some foods (fennel) and if you want your hot food in a matter of minutes, then short of a blowtorch, you're going to have to suck it up. Just make sure you wait for 45 minutes before consuming, to let all the radiation settle down.

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Is £5 is a bit steep for a takeaway wrap in Sheffield?  Not really. Because as you start to munch on this beast, you begin to wonder - much like the re-paving of the Moor - whether it will ever end. Unlike the re-paving of the Moor though, you really don't want it to.

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Guacamole and tortilla chips

In 2010, when I graduated* from university with a degree in arguing hypothetical points without coming to any discernible conclusion, I thought that the world was my oyster! Three years of studying and pretending to enjoy going out meant that I was definitely owed a high-powered, thinking man's role with a generous salary and bountiful benefits in an ethical, forward-thinking and trendy but established and well-respected firm.

I fired off the job applications and refused to sign on at the JobCentre ("It'll just be a massive hassle when I have to sign off again in a few days, so I won't bother!")

After a few weeks of silence, I called my mobile phone network and asked my mum to send a couple of "test emails" to my email address, just to make sure that everything was in working order. I carped on about the recession a lot and angrily complained that I wouldn't be able to get any experience if no one would give me a job. But then someone did see my potential and after a depressing interview, they decided to give me a job. In a call centre, selling gas and electricity.

Selling is something that I'm not very good at. It's not that I can't sell...I'm sure, if you do everything correctly and act a bit cheeky, you'll get sales. The problem I had was that it required effort and if you sounded like you didn't care about the dual fuel saving and the direct debit discount, the customers wouldn't care either (not all of those propaganda-laden training sessions were a waste!). And I didn't care.

Laziness, though, is never very well respected at work and so I cleverly devised a little disguise by exaggerating my leftie views and embarking on a Marxist moral crusade.

"If people don't want to switch providers then I'm not going to force them into it just so I can line my pockets"

"I'm not gonna kill myself working just so those fat cats at the top can give me a couple of extra quid whilst they compensate for their tiny dicks with Bentleys"

And all these sentiments were based on thoughts that I did actually have but this agenda also suited my comatose state perfectly. It allowed me to become possibly the least successful employee at the company (an accolade I was awarded at a couple of other jobs too) until I was eventually and unceremoniously forced to hand my notice in after receiving a tip off that I was about to be sacked.

A lot of my colleagues sold hard. They said that whilst they were sitting in this hell hole for 8 hours a day, well into the evening, they might as well make some money out of it. And they did.  Their productivity was rewarded when they received significantly fatter pay packets than I did.

And although I couldn't be one of them, I did sort of admire their attitude; financially, at least, it made sense not to toss it off.

In cooking, it also sometimes makes sense not to toss it off. Some things are worth that little bit of extra effort. Guacamole is a dip that most people don’t consider making because it’s so available in its little plastic tubs in the hummus department and so why would you?

It’s really easy though and by making it yourself you a) know what has gone into it and b) can make it superbly chunky.

You will need…

2 ripe avocados

Half a red onion, chopped fairly small

5 or 6 cherry tomatoes, chopped into quarters

The juice of half a lime

Small handful of coriander

A pinch of salt

1. Scoop out your avocados and tip the flesh into a bowl. Don’t discard the stones just yet.

2. Using a fork, mash the avocados. This can be tricky as they are slippery little buggers. Use another utensil to hold them in place if necessary. Don’t mash too much – you don’t want your guac to be smooth. Or maybe you do!

3. Mix in everything else!

I also made some oven-roasted tortilla chips. You get some tortillas and cut them into triangles. Lay them out flat on a greased baking tray and sprinkle a bit of salt, chilli flakes or whatever over them. Place in an oven at fan 160c for 5 minutes and hey presto! Leave them to cool so they go crunchier.

TOP TIP: To keep your guacamole from going brown, you can pop the stone in and this should do the trick. 

* I did get a degree but never actually graduated due to my aforementioned breakdown, which resulted in me having to take an exam after everyone else had graduated. All very embarrassing. Here is a photo on the day of my supposed graduation. 

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Bragazzis - Review

This week I've gone all continental. Yep - here I am, reviewing good old Bragazzis in the Mercury Newspaper (available in print from many outlets across South Yorkshire).

This is an orange and hazelnut cake. 

BRAGAZZI'S - STYLE WITH SUBSTANCE

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Food Review: Bragazzi's Deli

Address: 220 Abbeydale Road, Sheffield S7



Visit Laura's blog at www.meanmuncher.blogspot.com

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Bragazzis, a popular and independent little café-cum-deli, is located on Abbeydale Road, Sheffield’s very own up-and-coming ‘in vogue’ area.



Some may say that the London Road stretch is the Sheffield equivalent of Dalston, despite the fact that Dalstonites are currently amidst an identity crisis after Harry Styles was spotted in the area, thereby instantly transforming the neighbourhood from one of unwashed hair and laddered tights to clean-living, bubblegum pop and colossal, veneered smiles.

Barring any appearances from One Direction, Bragazzis retains its cool and serves very nice food and coffee too. The mouth-watering sandwiches – made with bread thicker than me in Science class (circa 2003) - served heated or cold, your choice (£3.85) and selection of freshly-made, routinely innovative cakes (£2.50) are certainly the highlights. With fillings and flavours varying each day, you’ll have to frequent the place more habitually than Katie Price swings by the OK! Magazine HQ before you need have the same one twice.

To describe the food adequately, I feel that it is necessary to call in the help of pretend-Dr Gillian McKeith and her silly adage “you are what you eat”.

When in Bragazzis, I am a beautiful Italian supermodel, dressed from head-to-toe in the best quality designer clothing. I am deep, complex and memorable for all the right reasons and I’m the kind of woman that Berlusconi wishes he could go out with but I certainly wouldn’t waste my time on him.

And so, there is a reason why McKeith is as qualified as Homer Simpson to dole out advice about food.  As I sit here, a mundane, quarter-Pole and non-model from Rotherham, I can begin to see why. This takes nothing away from the food though.

I had a large Americano (£2.10) and my date had a small mocha (£2). Bragazzis have developed their own blend of coffee, which you can buy from the deli department, if you so choose (£4.50). Also available at the deli is a selection of anti pasti: grilled artichokes, plump marinated olives (both £2.20 per 100g) and three types of thick, authentic pesto (£2.75 per 100g).

The piles of sandwiches, stacks of jars and abundance of produce provide the perfect example of “good clutter” and if I had known about Bragazzis a few years ago as a teenager, I would have taken my parents there to show them how stylish organised-disorganisation can look. The tables and chairs are delightfully mismatched, presumably having been sourced from jumble sales and generous grandmas alike.

You don’t pay your bill until you’re ready to leave and instead of being presented with an itemised list, you simply cobble together what you’ve consumed with the help of the person that served you. The day’s selection of cakes will be scrawled across the blackboard in the corner and there isn’t an American soft-drink in sight.

This is the kind of place that the big corporate coffee bores wish they were; they will try desperately to imitate such panache and they will inevitably fail. So make sure you enjoy the perfect antidote to all those cardboard cakes, flat-pack interiors and seasonally-coloured cups and give this joint a whirl.

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Squash & barley salad with balsamic vinaigrette

Last week was mainly formed of intense yet unwanted debates about Oscar Pistorius. My colleague became incredibly absorbed in the trial and as a devoted Oscar fan, she took it upon herself to become his Sheffield-based chief defence lawyer ("I love Oscar, me! He's the only reason I went to the Paralympics!"). After repeated "What do you think? What do you think?" type pestering, I wearily took my place as the reluctant prosecution.

My colleague read, verbatim, the Twitter feed of the bail hearing. The nature of Twitter, of course, is that the information comes from various different sources, meaning that it repeats itself. Constantly.

"A cricket bat was found and testosterone tablets have been found. Testosterone tablets have been found on the premises. A cricket bat was used to break down the door. A cricket bat is reported to have been found. Testosterone tablets have been found in the bedside cabinet.”

All day. Every day. Until the court adjourned and I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. And then they reconvened and I had the Pistorius bathroom described to me in minute detail; wall by wall, window measurements to the millimetre and the precise position of toilet bowl. Oh and the condition of Reeva's bladder (it was empty by the way, which, surprisingly, is consistent with having just had a piss).

If there is one good thing to come out of all this though, it is that my colleague has had a sort of philosophical overhaul. Normally a hang-draw-n-quarter them type justice seeker (whether the trial has happened or not; a police charge is enough to begin the execution process), she now seems to have mellowed.

"They might not let him take his legs to prison!" she tells me, outraged.

And that, for me, is a humanitarian triumph.

Anyway, in the event that this week requires such high levels of endurance, I have (with the help of the trusty BBC Good Food) made myself a Sanity Salad to take with me to work each day.

I have varied the amounts slightly, based on what I had but follow the link above for the original recipe.

Ingredients

1 butternut squash, peeled and cut into long chunks

1 tbsp olive oil

250g pearl barley

280g Tenderstem broccoli

A handful of sundried tomatoes, sliced

1 red onion, diced

2 tbsp pumpkin seeds

1 tbsp capers, rinsed

15 black olives, pitted

20g basil, torn

5 tbsp balsamic vinegar

6 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

1 tbsp wholegrain mustard

1 garlic clove, finely chopped

Heat oven to 200C/fan 180C/gas 6. Place the squash on a baking tray and toss with olive oil. Roast for 20 mins.

Meanwhile, boil the barley for about 25 mins in salted water until tender, but al dente.

While this is happening, whisk the dressing ingredients in a small bowl, then season with salt and pepper.

Drain the barley, then tip it into a bowl and pour over the dressing. Mix well and let it cool.

Boil the broccoli in salted water until just tender, then drain and rinse in cold water. Drain and pat dry.

Add the broccoli and remaining ingredients to the barley and mix well.

This will keep for 3 days in the fridge and is delicious warm or cold.

Vegetarian, vegan and dairy-free! A perfect, healthy lunch. Serves 8 but I'm hoping to finish it in 5 large portions to myself. YES!

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Imran's Takeaway and Diner

Calling all omnivores and carnivores!

The other day, I received a wonderful email from a young gentleman called Gulshan Mehboob.

Although both food lovers, Gulshan and I have very different tastes. So, in the interest of diversity, I thought it would be a good idea for Mean Muncher to enlist its very own 'guest blogger'.

Take it away Master Mehboob...

Dear Mrs.Muncher,

I am Gulshan Mehboob. I am 19 years old and am currently working as a part-time Potato Rumbler at Fat Sam's Burger Van whilst undertaking my Apprenticeship in Catering and Bakery from Barnsley College. You might think that I have a lot on my plate (pardon the pun) for such a young man. I do.

I stumbled upon your blog by accident whilst searching for Meat Muncher, one of my fave online publications. It has been a big month in the world of meat so you could see why I would want the MM P.O.V. on things.

However in your blog I was delighted to find a fellow creative and culinary enthusiast and you have inspired me to write my very own food review. I apologise in advance if my writing seems naive and uncrafted - I'm used to expressing my feeling through food not words but you have shown me a way to combine both. Thank You Mrs Muncher and I hope you enjoy reading my review. 

Imran's Takeaway by Gulshan Mehboob

The name Imran's immediately conjures up a thousand exotic images in my mind and maybe that is why this establishment sits so comfortably in the culturally rich surroundings of the Wicker in Sheffield. As you walk along the picturesque canalside taking deep into your lungs the smell of Southern Fried Chicken and Istanbul Donner, you feel drenched in the history that surrounds you. 

Just metres away is Just Halal Donner, the first place to sell donner meat legally in Sheffield. Before Just Halal Donner, or BJHD as it's commonly known, you would have to meet men on the barges by the canalside, unsure of what was exactly in the meat. I'm glad we've come a long way since then.

Up the road is Mangla restaurant which some people call the Mumtaz of Sheffield but I could write a thesis on why Mumtaz is the Mangla of Bradford. Then there's Kebabish: as famous for its Mixed Grill platter as its scene-stealing appearance in Four Lions, for me the only time since the Towering Inferno where the venue has upstaged the actors. 

Beyond the bright neon lights of Hollywood-haunt Kebabish stands the true star of this picture. Imran's is not a leading man like Kebabish, the household name that gets all the attention - the Kevin Costner or Michael Bolton. Imran's is more the Danny Devito, the little guy that you love that will give you what you want. Imran's is The Jewel of the (takeaway) Mile. 

I don't know if 'O Holy Night' actually plays when the doors of Imran's open or whether it's in my imagination but once you enter the golden gates you know you have entered culinary paradise. I am also the first to admit that it can sometimes feel like a market scene off Indiana Jones and the meek can get lost amongst the crowd but those adventurers determined to get their hands on the fine exotic delicacies on offer will no doubt be rewarded with the tastiest of tresure...The Imran's Meal Box. 

This treasure chest contains healthy shavings of both lamb and chicken donner meat and what some may consider an ample portion of fries (though ordering an extra portion as a side might be recommended for the mightier gentleman).

Then there's the world famous Imran's Chicken. It is rumoured that the colonel himself offered Imran a small fortune for the recipe but he was unwilling to give it up. I dread to think what Ghadaffi wanted with a spicy chicken recipe but I imagine he could have controlled the world if he had something so deadly delicious at his disposal. 

The box contains three pieces of this culinary gold and I opt for leg, breast and wing so as to have the full gastro experience. The box in which it arrives has also become a bone, pardon the pun, of contention. Imran's served the original Meal One in a cardboard box. It was rustic and simple and the cardboard absorbed the flavour, almost becoming a part of the meal. The new polystyrene boxes fail to do this and often by the time you arrive at eating your second box it has become quite damp and stodgy as it has not been allowed to breathe as it would have in a vessel made from cardboard.  

Finally we have the arch de triumph, the Nelson on their Coloumn, their 'I Am the One and Only". God gave us taste buds and we gave them the greatest gift we could: Imran's Spicy Potato wedges. A treat so rich it should be wearing Pierre Cardin shoes. The potatoes are so fluffy they could be made from clouds or even poodles and they are coated in a sheath of Imran's spicy breadcrumbs. 

All this for a mere £3.30 and for an extra 60p you can have any flavour from the entire Rubicon range, even pomegranate for all you health nuts.

Usually two meal boxes are enough for even the heartiest of appetites but if you are like me then you might also be interested in the Chicken Fillet Burger which is altogether a more gourmet experience. The chicken here is of the highest quality, beyond free range to maybe even wild, farmed from the hills of the Yorkshire Moors and plucked by the hands of Imran himself.

It may not be as polished as McDonalds or as refined as Burger King but Imran's has heart and character and that's been enough to get me through life and it should be enough to make you want to go to Imran's.  I've been Gulshan Mehboob, reporting for Mean Muncher, happy eating everbody. 

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Kashmiri Aroma - Review

The wonderful Mercury Newspaper had me back to do a second review. Hurrah! Here I am talking about fireworks, gameshows and maiden names:

SWEET, SWEET AROMA

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Food Review: Kashmiri Aroma

Address: 798 Chesterfield Road, Woodseats



Visit Laura's blog at www.meanmuncher.blogspot.com

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I bring good news to those readers who happen to live in Meersbrook, Woodseats or Greenhill because you can legitimately call this curry haven your “local”. For those of us who live a little further afield, atop one of the other seven hills that make Sheffield the British equivalent of Rome, you may need to call a taxi. Call it you should because this little gem is worth a visit.



Now I don’t wish to over sell Kashmiri Aroma but in my very humble (and often flawed) opinion, this is the best curry in Sheffield. Or maybe even the world. Okay, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves because I have not tasted every curry in the world. However, I probably have tasted nearly every curry in Sheffield.

There’s nothing here that you wouldn’t expect in other curry houses: friendly staff, pleasant interior, beautiful food, an extensive menu and a recorded version of happy birthday that will, without doubt, be blasted out for some poor soul who will be presented with a chocolate “bombe”, garnished with genuine firework.
The thing, though, that makes Kashmiri Aroma different is that it’s consistently good. They don’t rest on their laurels after you’ve been a few times, they’re not lazy with their service when they work out, after your fifth visit that week, that you’re addicted to their food. They always want you to have a great night and they will never take your business for granted.

The building itself is a huge white block containing roughly 60% call centre and 40% lovely restaurant. The restaurant is on the lowest level and elicits no thoughts of “but WHY is it you feel you don’t want to change supplier?” (except for me, as I used to work there selling gas and electricity).

If you once worked at the call centre too then don’t panic because as soon as you sit down to enjoy the hastily presented and wonderfully tasty pickles, you’ll be transported off to another world. Apparently, there are indeed other worlds out there and many are rumoured to contain parallel steel cities; so this is definitely not just a flippant metaphor an amateur food reviewer might write down when stuck for descriptive words.

The starters menu provides more dishes to choose from than many restaurants manage on their whole menu: soups, sizzlers, kebabs, tikkas, seafood and veggie galore! If you are as ham-fisted as I am when it comes to making decisions, my best advice is to blindfold yourself with a napkin, spin around three times, divide your mother’s maiden name by 27 and take the dish that comes. It’ll be delicious anyway.

When it comes to the mains, if you want to enjoy a good old can’t-go-wrong curry, I urge you to order the lamb karahi. Those succulent pieces of tender lamb are like butter in your mouth. Whichever curry you order, you will be guaranteed numerous pieces of meat and you won’t be forced to become some sort of biryani game show contestant, charged with finding the elusive chunk of winning protein.

Veggies, fish lovers and philistines alike are all amply catered for here (yes, they even serve chicken nuggets), so book a table and make your way there for this is a curry you don’t want to miss out on.



Visit them online at www.kashmiriaroma.com

Just FYI: I used to eat the lamb karahi but of course I do not now. This dish is the paneer and mushroom curry, which is a real scrummy veggie choice. 

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