The ultimate comfort food

One of the nice things about living in Switzerland is that you can get these miniature chickens (called coquelets Suisses) that feed one person (if you're greedy) so you can even have roast, stuffed chicken when you live on your own.

Of all the things I remember my about my late mother's cooking it is, perhaps, her stuffing that stands out so I still like to have it with roast chicken.

Like her, I use sausagemeat, but not too much. The meat from two pork sausages broken up with your fingers (or one Swiss saucisson à rotir chopped up finely) could be blended into about 100g breadcrumbs, add an onion, chopped finely and softened in oil, some sage (dried is fine), thyme, salt and pepper. Mix everything in a bowl and add a beaten egg to bind it all together. This will stuff two coquelets, including a little bit in the craw of each one so it makes a nice meal for two hungry people (or you can freeze half the stuffing).

Grease the chickens well and place, face down, in a roasting tin. Put in the oven at 200 for 25 minutes, then turn them right side up, sprinkle with salt and cook for another 25 minutes (this way you get a nicely browned breast that doesn't dry out).

During the second leg of the roasting time, take four to six peeled potatoes, put in a saucepan with cold water and bring to the boil. Simmer for 5 minutes, then drain off the water. Now - and this is important - take the pan, holding the lid on tight (use oven gloves) and give it a GOOD shake. This will make the potatoes nice and floury on the outside. In the meantime, heat a little oil, butter (or beef dripping, goose fat or duck fat) in another roasting pan in the oven for a few minutes. When the fat is hot, take the pan out, put on a hot ring, and put the potatoes in one by one, making sure thy are well coated in fat.

By now, the chickens will be ready, so you can transfer them to a warmed plate and cover with foil. Turn the oven up to 230 and put in the potatoes. They will take 35 minutes or so (the chicken will stay warm) but should be taken out and turned over roughly halfway through.

This gives you time to make the gravy. Drain off most of the fat, add a dessertspoon or so of flour to what's left and blend it into a paste, scraping all the brown, grungy stuff aff the pan into it. Separately, mix a cup or so of chicken stock with a half a glass or so of red wine. Add this slowly to the flour paste, blending as you go. If the liquid is too runny you can thicken it a bit afterwards by bringing it to the boil in a small saucepan (if all else fails - but only if all else fails - add Bisto).

When the potatoes are ready everything else should be ready too. You can serve with some green vegetables or, if it's winter, my special cauliflower cheese (which merits a blog on its own some day).

You'll need to double roughly the quantities of stuffing for a normal sized chicken for 4 people or so (which takes longer to cook, of course). Or you can use guinea fowl, which is like chicken only more so (as Winnie the Pooh might say, it's the same as chicken only different). Because of the high breastbone on guinea fowl, you can't do the trick of starting it upside down. Instead, lay straky bacon strips over the breast to keep it moist - they can be the chef's treat afterwards (if he or she isn't worried about calories).

It left me slightly disappointed

So far my book reviews on this blog have been very positive so it's important to strike a slightly critical note now and again. A friend recently lent me The Debt to Pleasure by John Lanchester, a novel in which Tarquin Winot, an opinionated and bitter snob, tells his life story against a backdrop of seasonal menus, and reflections on food and drink.

It's definitely a foodie's book and I am a foodie ("No!" I hear you say. "Who would have thought it?"). And yes, it's beautifully written and very funny - I found myself laughing out loud at times. The knowledge and erudition displayed by the author is amazing and he uses it deftly to entertain rather than to preach. I wouldn't mind trying some of the recipes either - especially the Irish stew and the aioli.

Why was I disappointed at the finish then? Well while it's fantastic as a reflection on food, it just seemed to me to be slightly unfulfilled as a novel. I don't want to give away too much about the ending - but to me there just didn't seem to be enough of a plot to make a real novel of the book. Strip away the excellent musings on food and you would be left with a short story. Also, by about three-quarters of the way into the book you get an idea of how mad and bad Tarquin Winot really is. After that, nothing more you find out about him seems shocking any more.

Would I recommend this book? Well, yes if you like reading about food but not if you are looking for a good yarn.

A monumental new book

One of the highlights of the time I spent working for the National Parks and Wildlife Service (the lowlights are for another day) was the collaboration with the naturalist and photographer Robert Thompson - on recording projects for dragonflies, orchids and lichens, as well as a comprehensive natural history of Ulster (you can see hs work at: http://www.robertthompsonphotography.com/). To my mind - and this is coming from someone who has been exposed to WWF's superb photo library - he is the most talented wildlife photographer I know.

The plan for the natural history was to cover all nine countires in the province, including the three that are in the Republic. Which was a good idea because, apart from getting away from the ugly political connotations of Ulster as being synonomous with Northern Ireland, these three counties are of interest in their own right - especially Donegal. John Faulkner, an old colleague and former head of Nature Conservation in the Northern Ireland Environment and Heritage Service, was the lead co-author, together with Robert, but there were chapter contributions from other former colleagues of mine, including Julia Nunn and Ralph Sheppard.

The book has finally emerged in print after more than five years and it has been well worth the wait. I missed the launch in Belfast but Robert kindly posted me a limited edition copy, signed by the co-authors. Yesterday, I had a chance to go through it. I spent an hour doing so, wile listening to beautiful music by Debussy (and sipping a gin and tonic!).

Many people in the Republic have been to Donegal and it is, perhaps, the most romantic county in Ireland, with its brooding mountains, dark lakes and ever-varying coastline. However, lots of people have never visited Northern Ireland, which is a pity, because it has spectacular scenery, of a kind you won't find anywhere else. As for Cavan and Monaghan, while they are less dramatic counties, their natural history has often been overlooked (my friend Shirley Clerkin is doing an excellent job of redressing this in Monaghan).

The book covers all the habitat types found in the province but to me the landscapes that dominate my own memories are the mountains and the coast. Each of the main mountain ranges - the Derryveaghs, the Bluestacks, the Sperrins, the Mournes and the Antrim Plateau - is different and, of course, this has as much to do with geology as anything else. Equally, if you travel along the coast from Carlingford Lough in the east to Donegal Bay in the west you can't go more than a few miles without seeing spectacular scenery.

At long last, the province has the kind of book that it deserves to show its natural wonders. Hats off to John, Robert and their collaborators. Now, if only the other three provinces could get similar treatment...

Here is a link to the Blackstaff web page for the book.
http://www.blackstaffpress.com/ProductInfo.aspx?Product=171

The rape season

By which I mean the crop that's grown for oil, of couse!

Last Sunday, Magdalena and I went for a drive and a walk along the border with France to photograph the fields of rape in all their yellow glory. It was a beautiful day and the sight of the lemon-coloured fields set against the background of the Jura mountains (Jura - Jurassic) reminded me of how lucky I am in terms of where I live (it's the first time I've lived within walking distance of another country).

After taking some pictures of the fields we went on to visit a woodland and wetland nature reserve in France just outside the spa town of Divonne. We couldn't have chosen a better time. The classic woodland flowers were in bloom - wild arum, garlic mustard and so on, as well as as some of the wetland ones, such as marsh marigold and lady's smock. We even saw cowslips.

The reserve also hosts a small group of Aurochs - Europe's original wild cow. Well, they're not real aurochs because those went extinct hundreds of years ago; no, they've been re-created by selective breeding and they look a bit like highland cows (which you also find in the Juras, by the way).

This region has so much to offer that it'll be a long time before I get tired of it, even though I do miss the sea.

My favourite Dublin building

I always say to foreigners who are visiting Dublin that if they only see one building it should be the Casino at Marino. Unfortunately, very few of them take my advice. In fact, as far as I can see, most Dubliners haven't visited it either. Part of the problem is that it's out of the centre of town - and, even worse, it's on the north side. Another problem is that there's hardly anything else in the immediate vicinity to justify an excursion (a little further afield there are some attractions, such as Bull Island, and further again, the castles and manor houses of North County Dublin).

The Casino was commissioned by James Caulfield, the first Earl of Charlemont, to be built in the grounds of his country house. It was designed by the talented Scottish Archiect, William Chambers, who also designed Somerset House and several building in Trinity College Dublin (he never visited ireland so he never saw the fruit's of his labours). The really charming thing about the building, though, is that from the outside it looks like a one-roomed building, whereas inside it is quite a respectable little house, with 16 rooms on 3 floors. Lots of tricks are used to disguise this on the outside: the basement and top floor windows are hidden by balustrades; the large front door is mostly wall on the inside with a normal-sized door set into it; where dividing walls run up against the huge ground floor windows their edges are painted black; and, as a final touch, the Greek urns on the top balustrades are actually chimneys. Overall, I can never stop thinking of Dr Who's Tardis - which, as we all know, is much bigger on the inside than it appears on the outside.

When it was finished, around 1775, it looked out over a Capability Brown landscape that rolled down to the sea. It was decorated and furnished in lavish style and, not surprisingly, this left Caulfield rather strapped for cash afterwards. The next humiliation that he had to bear was that a local builder, Charles Ffoliot, built a crescent of houses further down the slope to block Caulfield's view of the sea (this crescent has acquired fame in its own right as Bram Stoker, the auther of Dracula, was born in one of the houses). Sadly, that was only the first of many building projects that have ruined the setting of this archtectural jewel - today it's surrounded by council estates and a rather vulgar Victorian building which is used to train the Fire Brigade. Moreover, Caulfield's country house is long since gone. Happily, though, his town house survives as the Dublin City Hugh Lane Gallery.

Despite the disappointing setting, I strongly recommend that both my Dublin friends and visitors make the effort to see this masterpiece. It's only open in the summer months as a decision was taken not to instal central heating in it. But please, go there! And if you want to see pictures and plans, click here:
http://www.google.ie/search?um=1&hl=en&biw=1024&bih=553&site=search&tbm=isch&sa=1&q=The+Casino+Marino&aq=f&aqi=&aql=&oq=

Catching up on old friends

In my various day-jobs over the last 14 years or so, international wildlife trade has always featured as a full-time or part-time preoccupation. Currently, in WWF, it's virtually full-time (with a bit of other work on tigers and pandas thrown in) and I spend most of my time working on issues relating to trade in animals. However, I'm a botanist by background and it was through one former college friend, Noel McGough, that I got interested in wildlife trade in the first place.

Noel went to Kew Gardens to work on plant trade issues in 1988 and he's been there ever since - much more career continuty than I've managed to achieve. Since then, I've been to see him in the gardens several times - if you haven't been to Kew you really should go, especially if you're in London in late Spring or early summer. At his suggestion, I applied for - and got - the secondment to Brussels to work on wildlife trade that was one of the high points of my career and a huge formative experience for my children (as well as providing the inspiration for the book I'm working on at the moment).

This week, Noel and other botanist friends are in my neck of the woods for a meeting of the Plants Committee of CITES (the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species) so it's been a chance to catch up. Magdalena and I were even able to host a party on Sunday night. She did a delicious starter of a cake with courgette and goat's cheese; I made Caesar salad and chilli con carne (chilli sin carne for the vegetarian) and strawberry tiramisu. We spent Sunday cooking up a storm but were able to get out to enjoy the countryside around Divonne before our friends arrived (more about that in a future post). At the party afterwards, I drank too much red wine and Zubrowka (that delicious Polish vodka that, when mixed with apple juice, tastes like apple pie in a glass).

On Monday, another wildlife trade expert who has recently moved to Switzerland, Rob Parry-Jones, also hosted a dinner party for some of the visitors, together with his lovely wife, Pia. In this case, though, their lovely daughter, Aaliyah, stole the show. We had delicious vegetaraian food from Pia's home country, India.

The meeting has been going well - I have a sense of it making more progress than has happened at some recent meetings, as we grapple with issues such as Madagasacar's unique flora. That country has such an amazing amount of endemic plants - and animals - but, unfortunately, these are being plundered by rich collectors, while their precious timbers are being creamed for the Chinese market. So we all have to do what we can to help.

Another of my compatriots and fellow-CITES practitioners, Karen Gaynor, is also at this meeting, and will be able to announce officially that the next meeting will be in Dublin, hopefully around St. Patrick's day next year. Not the best time weather-wise, but then is there ever a good time in Ireland where weather is concerned?

Celeste Aida

A friend contacted me yesterday about things to do around Lake Garda and that reminded me of the cultural highlight of my holiday there in 2004; namely, the opera festival at the Arena in Verona.

I had already seen several Verona productions on television but this was the first (and, so far, the only) time I attended a live performance there. Of the ones that were on offer, I chose Aida as I knew from seeing it on television that it offers the best opportunities for a production to capitalise on the spectacular venue - an opera that was written as an extravaganza to celebrate the opening of the Suez Canal is well suited to this Roman amphitheatre. Besides, since the kids were press-ganged into coming along, it had to be an opera with reasonably accessible tunes - and with plenty to look at on stage.

The production I'd seen on television had included live elephants but this one by Franco Zeferelli didn't (much to the disappointment of the kids). All the same, while it didn't win the kids over to opera, they did agree that otherwise it was spectacular. The centrepiece was a gold pyramid assembled of steel tubing that revolved to present different faces, according to the scene. For me, though, the most spactacular moment was the point when the sentence for Radames - that he be walled alive in a tomb - was announced. By then it was dark (it's normally still daylight when the production opens). Members of the chorus - dressed entirely in black - had lined up in concentric semicircles on the steps behind the stage and, when the sentence was announced, they stood up and each revealed a white light that had been concealed in their hands until then.

We did the whole thing on the cheap in that we opted to sit on the stone steps rather than paying for proper seats in the flat part of the arena (mind you, even that cost €80). It meant that we really suffered for our art. I'd had the bright idea of bringing along an inflatable airbed that we could sit on but - like many of my great ideas - it didn't really work so we hired cushions instead (they were only €4 at the time and the money went to the Italian Red Cross so what the hell!). If you do go there, though, and opt to sit on the steps I strongly recommend that you check out where the toilet cabins are and get seats on that side. Otherwise, it's a bit of a rush to make it to the loo and back in the interval - especially for the girls (yes I know, you have it so hard).

Despite everything I'd heard about the acoustics in Roman amphitheatres being perfect, it was hard sometimes to hear the soloists. However, it was still a memorable night. All in all, the memory of the production conjures up the cliché, "sex and violence and a cast of thousands" - except that there was no sex and practically no violence! Oh well!

Must-reads that you mightn't have heard of

At the Festival of Writing a couple of weeks ago we all got goodie bags of books, most of which I hadn't heard of before. Three of them turned out to be real finds and I want to review these in this post. All of them are as different from one another as can be but they are all worth seeking out.

Once, two islands, is by the South African author, Dawn Garisch. It is set on two fictious islands in the south Atlantic that are closely based on the Tristan da Cunha group. Garish confesses that she never visited Tristan but the idea of an island far into the Atlantic with no air access inspired the story. Ergo Island is the one of the pair where the main characters live; the other, Impossible Island (reminiscent of Inaccessible Island in the Tristan group), is uninhabited at the outset. Doctor Orion Prosper comes to the island on marriage. His wife dies in childbirth and, when the baby, Gulai, won't stop crying her aunt goes against the doctor's wishes and takes her to the island's female witch doctor. As the story develops, Gulai's passage from girlhood into womanhood, while she struggles witht the guilt over her mother's death, is contrasted with a background of deep-seated animosities among the islanders - in particular, her own father's bitterness and his intense hatred of the witch doctor. The style could be described as magic realism and gives the reader that feeling of heightened perception that one associates with the best novels in that genre. Of course, it turns out that there is a sinister truth behind the island's animosities and the story comes to a violent but ultimately hopeful end.

Florence and Giles is a superb Gothic tale by John Harding which takes as its departure point the building blocks of Henry James' The Turn of the Screw (Flora and Miles become Florence and Giles; Bly House becomes Blithe House - in upstate New York; and Mrs Groves becomes Mrs Grouse). However, fans of James' story (and I am one) needn't be put off - nor should those who haven't read it. Florence, who narrates the story, has taught herself to read against the wishes of her guardian uncle and her language is a quaint confusion of verbs with nouns that I loved (the library where she learned to read was a "dustery of disregard"; she "Rapunzelled" herself in the turret and she talks about a "twiddlery of thumbs"). She is fiercely protective of her brother and she fears that the witch-like second governess has plans to kidnap him ("I would wasp her picnic" is how she describes her intent to thwart these plans). When she looks in any mirror in the house she - but only she - can seee the governess looking back, watching her, and it is clear that the woman knows things about Florence, such as her use of the library - that she could not otherwise know. The novel works up to a climax that is just as shocking - and even more ruthless - that that of Henry James' masterpiece.

I have waited and you have come is a dystopian debut novel by Martine McDonagh set in post-climate-change England, where the land is flooded and a wet, cold climate persists. I found myself comparing this to Cormac McCarthy's The Road and the latter - much as I like it - suffered by the comparison. I think this is partly because McDonagh doesn't try to offer us even the modicum of consolation at the end that McCarthy does. Her heroine seeks a date with the man who sells her food in the local market but finds instead that she is stalked by a sinister stranger. As she tries to turn the tables on her pursuer, she is forced out of the house where she has lived as a recluse and has to engage with some of the (very strange) local communes. Again, the ending is extremely unsettling. It's a great read and, although it wouldn't be any harm if it were otherwise, don't expect to be preached at about climate change.

All of these books can be bought over the Internet and I recommend them heartily.

Brazil's great epic

I always promised myself, when I started this blog, that I'd write about a truly amazing book, that describes a truly amazing historical event. I don't direct my remarks at Brazilians because the book is their national book and anything I can say about it they have probably already said more elegantly among themselves. Everyone I've met from Brazil has heard of this book and most of them have read it.

Os Sertoes, written by former military engineer turned journalist, Euclides da Cunha, and published in 1902, subsequently translated into English (by Samuel Putnam) as Rebellion in the Backlands, tells a story that is dominated by one man, Antonio Vicente Mendes Maciel, known as the Conselheiro, or Counsellor. This driven and ascetic preacher must have been a charismatic figure, although he certainly always had a dark side. He wandered about Brazil in the latter half of the 19th century acquiring followers, mostly from the ranks of the poor and illiterate. On the one hand, the new Republic of Brazil, which he saw as decadent and irreligious, was one of the targets of his sermons. On the other hand, he also incurred the hatred of the established Catholic church - whom he viewed as materialist and flabby but who saw him as a rival for the the loyalty - and the money - of the poor.

In the end, he founded a community in Canudos, in a remote area of north-east Brazil; a harsh and unforgiving lanscape of thorny shrubs, where the local people had learned to cope with the alternate hazards of drought and flood. People gave up everything they had to follow him there, where created a settlement of 5,200 houses, with a church which they built from scratch (which was not finished when the events related in the book took place). It was a community with very simple and austere demands but one that felt a sense of entitlement to take whatever they needed from those around them who were not among their followers. This was bound to bring them into conflict with the authorities sooner or later.

The first stage of the war broke out in Jaoazeiro in December 1896, when a detachment of military sent to defent the town from the depradations of Conselheiro's followers got the worst of the fight. A second expedition sent against Canudos itself was beaten off without even reaching the settlement. A third suffered a worse fate - it was pinned down in the settlement and massacred.

By now the Republican Authorities were truly alarmed. They saw the Canudos rebellion as a plot to re-impose the deposed monarchy and mobilised a huge fourth expedition against it. It was this expedition which da Cunha accompanied, so that his account is a first-hand one. On their march to Canudos, the unfortunate soldiers passed the skulls and uniforms of their predecssors hainging from trees along the route.

The fourth expedition nearly suffered the same fate as the third, when pitched against the determination and fanaticism of Conselheiro and his followers. Ultimately, though, with the aid of reinforcements, they started to take Canudos, street by street - at terrible cost.

Conselheiro died before the rebellion was finally crushed in October 1897. Most of the active men in the settlement were subsequently massacred and many of the women sold prostitution.

I have to say that I expected the book to be heavy going but it completely blew me away. However, if you want a fictionalised account of this tragedy, you can also read The War at the End of the World, by Mario Vargos Llosa - and it is also gripping.

Thanks to Marcos Silva, for introducing me to this amazing story.

Julie and Julia - and me!

I know I'm a couple of years late but I finally watched Julie and Julia lalst night. It was entertaining, though I thought meryl Streep overacted wildly (I may be unfair - maybe the real Julia Child was as theatrical as that).

It was interesting, though, to reflect that I've owned copies of her two-volume book for about 25 years and I've even attempted some of the recipes (with varying degrees of success). The chicken with port wine, cream and mushrooms recipe that's featured in the movie is one I've tried; as well as being one of the easier recipes, it's also absolutely delicious. I would also recommend the french Onion Soup recipe and the first of the two Moules Marinières one as being relatively do-able.

Beyond that, though, although the recipes are fantastic, the book is a bit of an anachronism. Much as I love cooking, the recipes are just too complicated, even if they are superb when they work. For example, the Coq au Vin recipe refers you to two separate sub-recipes - in a different part of the book - for preparation of the button onions and the mushrooms respectively. I mean, for God's sake! Mind you, I bought the book as a present for my brother subsequently (he is much more meticulous about cooking - and everything else - than I am) and he follows the Coq au Vin recipe to the letter. Which reminds me of another thing - by the time I bought him his copy the two volumes had been issued in a larger format - hopefully with a stronger binding.

Still, if you're one of those people who likes reading cookery books as gastro-porn (and I am) then Julia's is worth having. But I am still waiting for them to make a movie about Delia Smith - perhaps with Keira Knightley ir Carey Mulligan in the title role?

In the meantime, having posted this blog, AK Julie Powell, I'm waiting for the phone to ring...