Rotolo Conquered

This has become my personal Jerusalem. A rustic classic from Jamie Oliver (page 99 of Jamies Italy - well sticky by now), but does come with the proviso you should practise it before thinking of serving it.  

Worrying words indeed. Mr Oliver is a fine cook (a point acknowledged with typical magnanimity by the late lamented Anthony Bourdain), and he or his kitchen are generally on the button about the complexity of any recipe. 

So I think 2 years ago it took not one, not two, not three, but four attempts before an edible rotolo issued from our kitchen. And the fifth passed muster at our Xmas in Ballymore.

Once again into the fray

So that kind of got repressed as "phew, glad I don't have to try that again", until such time that Eilish decided to stay at home and cook. Yikes, what was going to happen to my happy time in the kitchen? 

Occasional bursts of prepping and freezing meals ensued. One of which involved a mega sized rotolo which was hastily consigned to the depths of the freezer, hopefully never to be encountered again. 

Until today.

That does not look good. Time to bundle it up, chuck it in hot water and hope for the best (and give the fish kettle one of it's rare workouts)

and this is the killer in this recipe - you can't test or even see the pasta. 25 mins is Jamie's recommendation, but it is dependent on the thickness of the pasta. I ended up opening the rotolo, then sticking it back together for another 10 minute simmer before arriving at:

Tomato sauce prepared earlier, bit of parmesan, and some shallow fried sage leaves from the garden (in olive oil Jamie, I really am not in mood for clarifying butter at this point). Et voila!

and it was actually quite good - even Eilish said so.

Dicky Byrd - The antithesis or complement of Shackleton?

The preceding piece on Hary McNeish didn't cut the mustard as a polemic to be administered to the earnest Shackletonians, time for a left-field approach.

As luck would have it at my local library I stumbled upon Rear-Admiral Richard E. Byrd's classic "Alone".

A slim volume, but profoundly affecting. I would urge you to go and read this now rather than my second hand opinions.

Spoilers Alert!

You have to read the primary text first. Which is Richard E. Byrd, "Alone", ISBN-13: 978-1559634632.

It's less than 300 pages and gripping.

Spoilers Alert, Final Warning!!

You've read it. Or are going to trust my ramblings.

Whichever way, here goes.

Byrd does not appear to be a natural leader, and for want of any better idea he chooses to man an inland Antarctic through winter.

The rationale behind this (obtaining meteorological  data) is evidently secondary to achieving another exploratory "first".

At this point one may pause to reflect on the state of mind of someone naming the Ross Shelf portage "Misery Trail" and the preceding journey through "The Devils Graveyard". But against these odds the base is established at Little America.

The original plan of a 3 man inland base  is now abandoned due to inability to transport sufficient supplies (hmm?).

So  Byrd steps up to the plate and volunteers/dictates he will occupy the inland (Advance) base for the winter months.

A certain amount of consternation. Byrd himself acknowledges the motivation is complex and hard to justify, but as autocratic leader he does it anyway. 

He superficially devolves the leadership to Little America, but in his head remains the ultimate leader despite his isolation and woeful radio capabilities.

And then it gets dark. As presaged in the book he is caught between dying of hypothermia or CO poisoning for several months. At the same time he is caught between his responsibility for the men back in Little America, their duty, and his increasing desperation to live.

Considering this was written back in the old days of stiff upper lip etc, the existential angst that Rear-Admiral Richard E. Byrd puts down on paper is remarkable. It apparently took him several years before he could think about writing up the experience. 

What's this got do with Shackleton?

Byrd was two decades after Shackleton, but polar exploration seems to operate to its own timescale and as such certain themes apply to both:

Psychology

Much decorated, but scared of flying,  Rear-Admiral Richard Byrd pretty much defines the insecure over-achiever. Plus he was a secret boozer.

Logisitics

Twenty years after sleds and skis, neither diesel tractors and aeroplanes were a silver bullet against the vicissitudes of the Antarctic

Economics

Byrd was one of the last privately sponsored expeditions. He had the misfortune to be doing this during the Great Depression, which may have clouded his judgement. 

He implies his decision to overwinter was both to secure funds and to avoid the hassle of obtaining funds.

Ethics

A very tricky one. The heart of the book. Byrd concedes  relatively early on that overwintering was self-indulgent. But while possibly dying he concocts an elaborate fiction that Little America think he doesn't need rescuing whilst hoping they will see through his facade.
At the risk of Poulter and the other members of the rescue party, who would suffer by another rod if they failed to ignore standing orders and rescue Bird, he is rescued.

Yet Another Plea for a Posthumous Polar Medal for Harry McNish

Background

If you have stumbled here looking for cooking tips on the legendary Cullen skink, you may be justifiably be asking who is this Harry McNish and why should we care?

The answer is even a full-time internet culinary maven must consider broader society, and occasionally ask "what's going on here".

And so it is your humble correspondent got a bit of a bee in his bonnet about an apparently small detail in a big part of our cultural heritage (said cultural heritage being a) Western b) British c) Imperialist) - the Antarctic explorations.

Without going into details (there is an Internet for that), the gist for people of a certain age and background:

• Robert Scott came very close to winning the big one, but was tragically pipped at the post by foreign opposition, then died heroically.
• Ernest Shackleton didn't get out of the qualifying group, but survived heroically.

For success-starved people, the latter has not surprisingly become the exemplar. 

Shackleton's enormous achievement has propelled him into the stratosphere occupied by the likes of Caesar, Alexander and Napoleon - men who Get Things Done.

 I Come To Praise Shackleton, Not Bury Him

As mentioned, Shackleton was pretty awesome. 

His most awesome characteristics was his ability to extract a whole greater than the sum of the parts from a group of disparate individuals.

Should we therefore discount the individuals of said team?

There is no I in team

Alchemy is the conjuring of gold from the base metals. The base metal of  Endurance was refined very nicely with the advert for the expedition. 

Very different men, for very different reasons, signed up to this advert. 

One of these was Harry McNish.

Just an old-school shipwright

McNish was the ship's carpenter. 

A carpenter these days is the guy responsible for your bedroom cabinet doors working smoothly.

Back in the day the ship's carpenter was a big deal. Ships were made of wood. Ships structure would  fail. But  a "knacky" individual with access to some wood could effect miracles - as indeed McNish did on the Endurance, if we could imagine these as a modern performance review

• Prolonged the integrity of the Endurance - job done with either a meets expectations
• Offloaded lifeboats - after questioning strategy, delivered
• Outfitting the James Caird - innovative and exemplary
• Sailing in the James Caird - pass
• Crossing South Georgia - meets expectations

No two ways about it, McNish played an important part in the success of the Endurance mission, so why was he one of the few not to get a Polar medal?

but a Bolshie one at that

Apart from his undoubted professional skills, McNish had multiple misfortunes:

• A committed socialist
• An unbending Wee Free Christian
• The oldest person in the party
• Hemorrhoids
• Being Scottish

With these characteristics he has the wherewithal to antagonise just about anyone.

The fateful insubordination

Was there a sequence of events that led to Harry McNish dying destitute sans Polar Medal? 

Your author would contend that the questioning of Shackleton's legal authority regarding a shipless expedition led to McNish's ostracism by the mere fact he dared challenge the status quo.

And so?

It behoves anyone calling themselves a socialist, a Scot, or just a Right Thinking person to recognise the unrecognised achievements of Harry McNish.
This belated recognition  requires the posthumous award of the Polar Medal to Harry McNish.

Steal my thunder!

Whilst doing some vanity googling to see if I could monetise and retire on the profits. came across this usurper
Which was way ahead of me in search result (i.e. appeared in something other than my own browser).

So much for first mover advantage.

Once I'd overcome my seething resentment and read the article it was very good.
Well researched and definitive. Kudos Felicity (though I still think the poaching needs to be done in milk).

Weird (but good) Roast Lamb

Bit of downtime on Friday night and watched some cookery programs. Particularly intrigued by Tom Kerridge's roast leg of lamb with juniper rub and bay leaves (look it up yourself if interested, I'm just going to cover the basics).
I have juniper of indeterminate age and a dearth of recipes for them (red cabbage anyone?),
I have access to a bay tree looking distinctly leggy and in need of a good trim.
And the ever excellent Brady's of Fairview has been selling leg of lamb on special offer for a while now.

What could possibly go wrong? Well for one thing Mr Kerridge is quite a full-on chap, and the last time I was swept along by his enthusiasm (roast fillet of beef in treacle), it was an expensive disappointment. And this recipe just seemed to be so weird. But decided to give it a go anyway.

Step one was to score dry roast juniper berries and salt then grind to a dry rub. Slash the lamb and rub well, massage with oil and thyme, wrap in clingfilm then leave in the fridge overnight. Simples.

Step two, starting at 1pm the next day, cut a veritable wreath of bay leaves and lash all around the lamb till no flesh is visible.
Sweat off a mirepoix (with emphasis on the celery) in a roasting tin, cover with a few cm of water, then place the camoflaged lamb on top on  trivet.  Wrap with tinfoil then put in at 150 degrees for 5 hours.  More simples, but I still have a sense of unease over this strange combination of ingredients.

Couple hours later and the kitchen has gone from smelling like a parfumerie to a soap factory.

An hour to go and the smells aren't quite so pungent, or else my nostrils are desensitised.

Come the time to serve, expectations are being managed - "I'm not totally sure about this", "You have to try new things" :

Unwrap the foliage and still not looking great:

However....

... praise indeed from my sternest critic.


(btw, turns out this is a traditional combination of ingredients from Tuscany)

My Work Here Is Done

I will no more lament the foreshortened pitot tube, the asymetric undercarriage, the missing navigation lights (and more), nor the asphalt texture, the glue stains, the ripped decals, the completely lost decals...

Tis what it is, a half-arsed minature model of a mighty aircraft, and as such received some appreciation from my kids - and the kudos belong to the engineers of post-war Britain plus prior research

Why am doing this?

Time for the undercarriage,
missiles, pitot tubes etc, a quick spray of varnish, then a subtle wash and this kit will be done.

Feck. Feck, feck, feck!
Said undercarriage is

• ridiculously small
• floating
• made up of myriad ingenious mechanical brainwaves during the existential threat of the Cold War

Very tempting to go old skool with a suspended model, sans undercarriage.

But.. enough glue poured into those wheel wells might just work.