Kitchen nightmares

As I mentioned yesterday, I celebrated my houses's rehydration with a bout of baking, and I think it's fair to say that I did a half good job. Without it being an exaggeration, I've done more baking over the course of the last year or so than in the rest of my life put together, and whilst my historical lack of culinary prowess doesn't exactly make that a difficult feat, it's still been something of a personal revelation.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not putting myself in the Gordon Ramsay league as packets and instructions still largely dictate my cooking technique, but I've been branching out and yesterday I made my first ever quiche which, even if I say so myself, came out rather well. It was a bacon and broccoli affair, and whilst Chef Ramsay would most likely have taken a forkful and declared it to be bland, I was very pleased.

I said at the beginning of this post that I did a half good job though, and there was indeed a downside to my relative success with the quiche. I also made a couple of apple pies, which should have been in the oven for around an hour, but they ended up baking for considerably longer. When I spoke to Melanie on the phone in the evening I proudly told her all about my adventures in baking, but as I was doing so I remembered the apple pies, and the fact that they were still in the oven.

It wasn't as bad as my spoon-based misadventures from earlier in the year, but after three and a half hours I don't think the pies were as moist as they could have been; apple crisp is a popular dish in these parts, but these were more like apple burnt-to-a-crisp. I probably do myself an injustice there as I think what emerged is still going to be edible, but a large amount of apple filling remained in the oven having burst through the pie crusts, and is now charcoaled in lumps at the bottom in a small-scale recreation of the last day of Pompeii.

I'm currently debating as to whether I should clean up the mess since it could eventually be of archaeological interest to future generations, but as I'm still going to be here for the next month I think history is going to have to lose out on this occasion. I'm going to make a cake at the weekend though...

Cutting the cheese

I've received a great deal of culinary advice since I wrote about my dalliance with Kraft Dinners last week, and in the breaks between updating my iPod I've really been going to town in the kitchen. Last night I went as far as adding a tin of tuna and a tin of mixed vegetables to my pan of mac and cheese, and it must only be a matter of time before I receive an invitation to take part in the next season of Hell's Kitchen.

I also still have two chunks of mystery meat in my freezer - could be caribou, could be whale - but I've been a bit wary about tackling them as they're both as big as my head and I don't possess a suitable cleaver with which to carve them up. If I can get round to borrowing one then I can expand my repertoire still further, but until such time we'll stick with more traditional fare.

Oh and speaking of cheese, which we were earlier, I read today about an employee of McDonald's in the Netherlands who was fired because she gave a colleague a free slice of the stuff. It seems that she gave a co-worker on a break a more expensive cheeseburger instead of the hamburger that she'd paid for, and as this contravened the company's rules that prohibit staff from giving free gifts to friends, family or colleagues, she was given the sack. She's now won her court case for unfair dismissal, but I don't think the $6000 she was awarded in compensation will make too much of a dent in McDonald's 2009 fourth quarter profit of $1.2 billion, which they announced last week.

Makes you think: if someone is fired for stealing a piece of cheese, I wonder what would happen if they stole a whole burger? Might explain why we don't see Hamburglar any more...

I Am The Walrus

WARNING - This post contains pictures that those of you with sensitive stomachs may find distressing, and I don't just mean the photos of yours truly.

The return of a successful hunter has always been a time for celebration in the Inuit culture, and in modern times this is still the case, as illustrated by the return of the good ship Kakivak today with its haul of walrus for the community. Seal is the staple marine based catch of substance in the North but walrus, although not the meat of choice for many, makes for a nice change, according to one of my Inuit friends.

The harbour was already busy when we arrived, and the walrus meat was flying off the metaphorical shelves just as fast as the carcasses could be unloaded from the boat. Despite the flurry of activity, there is a distinct sense of order about these occasions, which is just as well considering the proliferation of knives, ulus and cleavers on display. The meat is shared, everyone takes what they need, and the atmosphere is one of controlled excitement.

Many of the locals can't wait until they get home to eat their bounty - like when you'd been allowed to buy a new toy and you just had to play with it in the car on the way home, even though you'd been told not to because if you opened the box when the car went over a bump in the road you'd lose bits down behind the seats and get all upset - so much of the meat is consumed, raw, on site. Inuit sushi, if you will.

Gordon Ramsay, eat your heart out! (especially since someone's probably already eaten the heart out of the walrus). In all truth though, nothing is wasted, and maybe before the school term ends in May I might be able to sample the delicacy that is igunaq - fermented rotten frozen walrus. They bury these huge steaks in summer, when they start to rot, and they freeze in winter. You eat them a year later. Hmmmmm...fermented walrus.

So, a very interesting day all told. It's not often you get to eat out up here, and whilst the menu was somewhat limited, at least the ingredients were fresh. And you certainly didn't want to get on the wrong side of the chef:

He is the eggman. Goo goo g'joob.