Fifteen Minute Mayhem

One of the presents I wasn’t too happy about receiving this Christmas, was Jamie Oliver’s new 15 Minute Meals cookbook from my boyfriend. After throwing an over-dramatic hissy fit, I asked ‘When have we EVER used cookbooks?’ It’s not that we don’t like new ideas - we do - it’s just that we’re creative cookers, and after seeing a picture of a meal, or watching a TV cook show, which I frequently do (hence the present I guess), or a quick google search, we know what goes into the meal and can improvise from there. No one in my family follows a recipe to the Tee, except for my Grandma.

Then the other day I caught Jamie Oliver on TV, cooking up some ‘lamb lollipops’ (the title isn’t the most attractive) although they did look rather appealing. I was able to use the book to write my shopping list, and proceeded to spend a whopping £22 on the meal. So far, it looks like the Jamie Oliver cookbook isn't for savvy savers, and for £22, this had better taste bloody good!

I decided to really put Jamie to the test, after hearing stories of his 30-minute meals taking more like 60, and set the timer. In true Jamie Oliver style, I boiled the kettle before hand, had pots and pans ready on the stove, and ingredients on the side. Set the clock, and go! 

We’re off. Sorry, I’m off, as my boyfriend refuses to help as, he points out, it’s 15 minute cooking by ONE person. First on my list is the lamb which I cover in salt, pepper and an unknown quantity of garam masala before putting them in a heated pan, forcefully poking at them as I’ve already forgotten to ‘pound them into the chopping board’. Next up is the rice, which I just realise, is actually microwaveable two-minute rice. It should be a bonus as it takes even less time, but now my time planning is messed up and I don’t really know what to do with myself. Seven minutes left. There’s actually a lot left to do in seven minutes… 

Coconut milk into a pan with two table spoons of korma paste. The mixture resembles a student night out aftermath of kebab-flavoured vomit, but I furiously stir until it’s only one shade of orange. Lentils go into a pot of boiling water, naan breads go into the oven and I start chopping up (‘roughly’ says Jamie Oliver - although there is only one way to do it when rushing) spring onions, ginger, chili and jarred peppers to put in with the lamb, and a honey and balsamic glaze on top (unknown quantities of course). By now, the lentils are overdone and resemble a mush in the bottom of the colander, and I don’t even read the rice packet which says ‘carefully tear a small corner open’ as I rip straight across the top of the bag and plonk it in the microwave. I check my Blackberry timer, and to my dismay, find that 15 minutes have ended and it didn’t even bleep at me. I’m about ready to throw my Blackberry into the microwave as well. 

The korma sauce goes into a bowl ready to serve, and I try and swirl some natural 0% fat free yoghurt round the top, you know, Jamie Oliver style, but it blobs to the bottom. I mix the rice and lentils together and throw in some peas, and that too goes onto the wooden chopping board - Jamie Oliver style. We’re half way there, yet I’m about 10 minutes over time. I serve the lamb up with heaped veg, and give a screech as I realise I’ve forgotten the naans. That’ll teach me for adapting the recipe. They look fine, after rescuing them from the oven, but feel slightly cardboardy in areas. I guess I’ll leave those for the boyfriend.

Twenty-five minutes later I’ve got food on the table, tossed over torn leaves of coriander (Jamie Oliver style) and more importantly, have a bottle of wine to hand. The boyfriend is content with meat and a stack of rice but really I feel for the amount of stress and money it cost, I could have gone to a Jamie Oliver restaurant and ordered it there. However, it does taste good, the vegetable mix is tastebud-transforming (the ginger, the peppers...) and I don't think I've ever cooked lamb before or at least not this successfully. The lentils were also a bonus as they're high protein and low fat, and really easy to just add to your rice for a more filling yet healthier meal. 

I guess I'll be using the 15 Minute Meal book after all! 

Fish Out of Water

Set with the task of ‘trying something new’, I decided the best person to ask (or perhaps worst…) was my boyfriend. An outdoorsy, BMX-loving, surfing addict, I knew he’d come up with something that I’ve never tried. Or never want to try. 

My ideal holiday would be a pavement pounding expedition around the Plaza Nueva in Rome for latest Pradas, or a marathon round Macy’s, New York. My morning regime consists of yoga sessions and fake eyelashes, and when someone mentions ‘Karl’ I think Lagerfeld, not Pilkington. 

So when I said to the boyfriend to plan me a surprise weekend involving something I’ve never done, I knew it certainly wasn’t going to be a day on Oxford Street. 

Wondering what I’d be needing - if heels would be impractical (likely), if I’d need a coat (very likely), or extra supplies of antibac hand gel (essential) -  I pestered him until he revealed he was taking me fishing. Fishing? The silent, sitting-around-doing-nothing activity for old men? ‘It’ll be fun,’ he says. ‘We can fish together when we’re old and grey!’ Very reassuring. 

Saddled with jeans I know will end up in the wash by the end of the day, my favourite leather boots I’m already regretting wearing and six layers of clothing, I feel almost prepared enough to battle salmon, sharks and sea devils. Bring it on! 

We head to a tackle and bait shop to buy hooks and feathers, whilst a lady in the shop waves rag-worms in my horrified face. After wading up a mountainous pebble dune lining Chesil beach, Weymouth, we settle down in between a line of fishermen-pros. With line and reel at the ready, the boyfriend is soon thrusting the line over his shoulder into the sea and madly spinning the spin-thing to reel it back in whilst I crack open a Vogue magazine. 

A while later, I realise that I’m not playing along in good spirit, nor learning any tricks of the trade when it comes to fishing so I get up and relieve the boyfriend  of his heavy fishing rod and aching shoulder. He teaches me the pivot-movement of the rod, punching forward with my right shoulder and pulling back with my left. Despite my multitasking abilities to combine any activity with use of my BlackBerry, I was seriously struggling with the strict process of letting the reel out, releasing your finger from the line at the optimum point before it flies out and lands miles out in the sea (for me it was a matter of inches), before counting to three, putting the clutch on (or off, I can never remember!) and slowly reeling it in, waving the rod around back and forth to emulate a fish swimming in the sea. I don’t think I’d be convinced as a fish either.

Hours later, and the only thing I’ve caught on my hook is my line, another line, and my boyfriend. I’m slowly managing to get the hand of it, despite my wrist hurting like the combined effort of everyone doing the ‘Mo-bot’ during the Olympic season. Someone near us keeps catching huge fish, and to my utter outrage, keeps throwing them back into the water. I’ve been so determined to catch a damn fish that I’m even prepared to karate-chop it dead with my bare hands and fillet the slimy bugger. I’m actually tempted to leg it across the beach like a possessed child, arms stretched out, begging to take the fish from him, just so I have something to show for my time at the beach.

Still without our main ingredient for dinner, we decide to cut our losses and head to the local chippy for restitution. Perhaps I should have tried my hand at rock-climbing or body boarding as I’m a competitive person with will-power the size of Manhattan, and today did nothing for my self-esteem. However, it was a change from dragging my boyfriend around shopping malls and high streets and for that he was entirely grateful. I’m half-willing to admit that it was quite a good afternoon - I’m not one for sunbathing but this is more ‘constructive’ sunbathing, and if you catch nothing from the sea, you’ll at least have caught some vitamin D.