Well I selfishly volunteered for babysitting duties with the Eldorado girlies so that I still get to see them occasionally.
It's not
their fault after all.
I've been wanting to try making some marshmallows after buying James Martin's
Great British Winter Cookbook last winter
and I figured it would be perfect for the girlies too, so I geared up all the ingredients and trucked on round after work.
It seemed surprisingly difficult to find liguid glucose when I first had the idea of trying this recipe,
and I finally found some in Boots, heavily guarded behind the pharmacy counter.
Then amusingly, when I was checking out the gleaming new giant Tesco which has just opened up near my office in
Musselburgh
any-fucking-town-in-the country I found little jars of liquid glucose by the dozen.
Sitting right next to the leaf gelatin.
Which begs the question - what's the big deal with
leaf gelatine anyway?
Of course as usual I managed to forget
something.
It's not real Karl Cookery if you don't forget
something.
That's my trademark. That and orange flavours. According to Jenny that's my trademark too.
Though she kindly hasn't mentioned the forgetting
something bit.
Usually I find the
something just after I've served out the meal,
but this time I forgot to bring the sugar thermometer before I even started.
And since Rachel doesn't have one (yet!) I had to guess the sugar temperature and I was probably a little on the low side.
Since it all worked out fine (though with rather more final whisking than advertised) maybe it isn't all that critical?
I was also a bit short of gelatin sheets, since they came only 12 to a pack, so I made up the difference with powder.
According to the packets 12 gelatin leaves (20g) is sufficient for 3 pints of water, and one sachet (10g/4tsp) sufficient for 1 pint.
So I added half a sachet of the powder too, and soaked the lot.
Obviously if you're making up a batch of marshmallows you need to have white ones and pink ones -
all the best commercial bags do.
So I thought I'd try some strawberry Nesquik as the flavouring agent.
Hugh Fearnley-Whatthehell uses beetroot in
his,
but I didn't think that was going to fly with my audience.
Also he doesn't use any glucose - so what does he know?
(Does he know that you don't need glucose in your marshmallows?)
We made half white and half pink mallows,
which worked out pretty well since we didn't have a large enough tray to set all of the mixture anyway.
We added (slightly more than) the advertised vanilla essence to the entire batch,
poured half into one tray, then added the Nesquik and food colouring to the remaing mixture.
Usually my attempts to enlist the girlies enthusiasm for one of my cooking marathons meets with something approaching bitter disappointment
(mine not theirs),
but I think the girlies really enjoyed making up those pink and white fluffy pillows.
They did a fine job double-teaming the whisking (even dressing the part),
there were lots of sticky sweet things to lick out and most importantly, it didn't actually take that long.
I think that's worth repeating. So I'll repeat it.
It didn't actually take that long.
You would think I would have learned that simple lesson after all my Eldorado Cookery -
young girls having the attention span of the length of a pop song,
but I still find it just about impossible to cook quickly, despite buying books with unconvincing titles like
Fast Food
in a desperate and usually futile attempt to get dinner on the table before midnight.
I'd be the worst MasterChef. Ever.
Waiting for the mallows to set is quite a challenge for girlies looking for a sugar high,
but fortunately I brought along my awesome
10th Kingdom DVDs to keep them entertained.
They did a
much better job than Sophie's homework.
All in all we must have done something right - the mallows were quite lovely, and I particularly liked the strawberry ones.
Rachel must have thought so too, because she'd already eaten five before I'd even asked if she'd enjoyed her evening of freedom.
Go Team Eldorado Girlies!
I baked the chumpkin a bit hotter (around Gas 8) for about 20 minutes just to get things going at the start, then reduced to Gas 6, then gradually lowered the heat towards the end as the pumpkin threatened to burn.
As usual, the chicken itself is wonderfully moist and tender and the stuffing inside the chicken was very good, but the stuffing inbetween the chicken and the pumpkin ended up very soggy from all the pumpkin juices.
Leaving (mostly) the lid off the pumpkin during cooking meant that the stuffing near the top of the pumpkin stayed dry and quite edible, and allowed the exposed chicken skin to crisp up nicely too. I think I'll make that a permanent chumpkin method!
I baked the lid separately in the oven for while too, just so I could serve the pumpkin with an equally cooked-looking lid on it if I wanted.