Gracie Fields' Lancashire Hot Pot

"At Mary Ellen's Hot Pot Party
The lads & lasses all were gay and hearty"

How wonderful that Una in Charlottesville, Virginia had a go at Gracie's Lancashire Hot Pot! At the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains a traditional Lancashire recipe got a good going over and the results were rich but very tasty - especially the leftovers next day. Una made a few subsitutions for ingredients not as readily available as they would have been in the North of England in the 1930s and we may suggest these in the book.

We may also suggest that like Mary Ellen in one of Gracie's best loved songs, everyone have a Hot Pot Party. You can invite your guests to rattle up wearing clogs and evening dress, fill up the wash-hand jug with ale and find a "gormless" conjuror to entertain!

If you are unfamiliar with "Our Gracie" you can listen to the jolly ditty here. I warn you though, it's an ear-worm and you'll be humming it all day!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mOf_NRKLDb8

Ee by gum!

Champion Toad In The Hole

Aha! It makes my heart glad to see that America's Sweetheart of Song is now cooking away out there in the Lone Star State. Go Ruthie!

One re-run and one near disaster on the cooking front this weekend. I made Constance's chicken dish for the delight of El Pantero Negra on Saturday night. I was late getting to the supermarket and they only had breast rather than thighs (unlike myself). Stick to the thunder thighs I now say. After 8 years of being told by Charley Chase that the breast of a chicken is bland and that all other bits are nicer, I have to say I am coming around to that way of thinking myself. After dinner the Panther took me to a NIGHTCLUB where the dancing started at 11pm. Fancy that! I am usually in my boat bed by 9pm. I suppose LATE was the way of nights out in the good old days of Hollywood anyhow. I imagine Constance had quite a few boozy boogies herself, although I doubt it was to old skool reggae.

On Sunday as I was cooking for boat buddies I thought I should rustle up a new SSS number. As the only option for groceries was Mr Riverside I was somewhat scuppered. The only recipe I had the wherewithal to make was Our Gracie's Toad in the Hole. The crazy boat oven has no temperature dial, only a squiggly line that ends in an arrow drawn on with a black marker pen at about the 7 o'clock spot. I drew this on under supervision of the landlady about a year ago when she showed me how the oven worked. Neither of us can now remember what this squiggly arrow was designed to indicate. For purely aesthetic reasons I always cook everything at whatever crazy temperature this is. Due to the recent excellent public information campaign on British TV about cooking things thoroughly on a barbecue to avoid food poisoning I was concerned about the bangers. Charred on the outside and pink on the inside. However, as we chowed down the dish was proclaimed "tasty" and the Toads "definitely cooked". The landlady's beau observed however, that the Hole might have benefited from some onions thrown in.

I am thrilled to have discovered all manner of old fashioned things in my local Waitrose. Not only can you buy blocks of DRIPPING - (oh yes Mr Butcher of Kilburn High Road, not such a "thing of the past") but also LARD and COOKEEN - I suspect the latter might do for all those American recipes requiring "shortening". This project is proving to be quite an eye opener when it comes to FATS especially those which come in a disgusting looking solid white blocks.

Eee By Gum - Gracie Fields' Hotpot

Ee that hotpot were grand!

I was rather bemused by the chunks of lamb the butcher had provided and had neither the correct implements nor the emotional wherewithall to get much meat from between bones, fat and things that looked like the cotton wool tubes dentists use to soak up saliva. What ARE those and what purpose do they serve in a sheep? Got it in the oven about 8 and then went to sit on the landlady's boat for a glass of wine while it cooked slowly in the tub oven.

As often happens on the island where I live, passers by spotting a drinking session going on gradually began to accumulate on the landlady's roof. There was much to-ing and fro-ing to the Mr Riverside corner shop to purchase 2 bottles for £8. Once the hotpot was mentioned there was much excitement and I foolishly announced in my drunken state that there would be plenty for everyone (about 15 people at this stage). Beau of landlady did the sensible thing and announced that anyone who wanted some should go and fetch a plate from their ships. Most people couldn't be arsed to leave their spot but there were about 6 or 7 volunteers. Dinner was served around 10.30 to much appreciation all round. I'd been going on about there being a "lot of meat" in it to dissuade the more squeamish from partaking, this was disputed by two of the male recipients of a portion. I must admit the bit I had was mostly potato with a bit of kidney (which tasted good) and I didn't recognise any lamb. But then, by that stage I was completely plastered!