Miche (that's quiche with a meat crust. Yes.)

Well, I thought it had been a while since we'd dicked around with some mince, so here I am, rectifying that for you. Like all the other recipes on the blog, this is the questionable recipe of someone's mum. She's so traumatized that I can't even mention her name here (possibly she wants to avoid death threats). Our anonymous supplier of this recipe says: "My mum used to make this in the late 70s and early 80s. There was no reason for it to exist then, and there's certainly no reason for it to be resurrected. It is basically quiche, but with a crust made of meat."

I don't know about you, but I was shuddering already. The words 'meat' and 'crust' shouldn't appear next to each other under any circumstances. However, having thought about it a bit, I've realised that this recipe might work for those of you who are on a paleo diet because it doesn't contain any grains or complex carbohydrates (apart from some pointless breadcrumbs that you could omit). When I say it might help you, I mean that it might help you remember why toast and chips were a good idea in the first place.

Serves:  4 people

Preparation time: About an hour

Ingredients: 

A packet of mince. I don't know how much - whatever is in the packet
1 medium onion, chopped
Worcestershire sauce
3 eggs
Some cheese ("some")
Half a carton of cottage cheese
1 tomato
Some breadcrumbs maybe

Method:

1. Put the mince, half the chopped onion and a few drops of Worcestershire sauce in a bowl and mix with your hands.

 

2. Press the mixture into a flan dish, lining it as you would with pastry. Do this in a way that suggests that it's perfectly acceptable behaviour and not a crime against humanity.

 

3. Put this in the oven (which you have preheated to approx 220 degrees by the way. I forgot to tell you) and cook for...a bit. Until it looks like the meat is cooked through and a bit...um...crusty. 

 

This happened. If you're struggling to discern the full horror, the mince shrank away from the sides into a sort of charred disc and became surrounded with watery fat. I reckon you can tip the watery fat in the bin at this point.

4. Now you're going to mix up your filling. Whisk the eggs, the other half of the onion, some cheese and the cottage cheese together. Smile brightly and try not to think of yeast infections.

 

5. Now you're going to tip the cottage cheese mixture into the mince crust. This isn't going to work properly because it's come away from the sides of the dish but fuck it. Top with sliced tomato, breadcrumbs and more cheese.

 

6. Place back in the oven for 20-30 minutes until the eggs are cooked through and the weird meaty quiche is set.

 

7. Cut into slices and serve. Behold the layer of meaty misery. I served it with a bistro salad out of a packet from Aldi, but you may want to add some nice browny green marrowfat peas and floury boiled potatoes a la 70s cuisine.

 

So, my taste testers were obviously overjoyed when they returned home to find my grinning like a maniac and shouting "GUESS WHAT'S FOR TEA??" They're now fairly resigned to finding me in the kitchen dishing up brown vomity substances like her off Butterflies.

 

The child didn't even deign to try it. 

The other one?

"Well, it's fine. It's just fine. It's just...some crusty mince with some sort of...scrambled egg stuff on it isn't it? I mean, nothing surprises me any more. I'm managing to get it down."

Then I told him about the cottage cheese aspect and he stopped being able to get it down. Nobody is really talking to me any more.

Classic 70s and 80s desserts taste test: THE RETURN

You know how we enjoyed testing out some classic no-make puddings from childhood recently? Well, I thought it was time to do it again. There were so many classics that I'd neglected so it was really only fair that we gave them a go. Here are this week's contenders:

Clockwise from top left: Tinned peaches and evaporated milk, Vienetta, jelly mousse, and ice cream with Ice Magic sauce

1. Tinned peaches in evaporated milk. What even is evaporated milk though? Google tells me that it's milk with the water evaporated out of it. But it's still wet so I don't get it. Condensed milk is, incidentally, the same thing but with lots of added sugar. I'm ok with condensed milk - it has a purpose (making caramely things). Evaporated milk's purpose appears to be to be served with tinned peaches (and bread and butter if you believe my friend. What sort of horror childhood she encountered I don't know).

2. Vienetta. Needs no introduction really. Basically the classiest dessert that the 80s had to offer. You were a) probably rich and b) lucky beyond your wildest dreams if this got served in your household.

3. Jelly mousse. This is the wildcard because it didn't come pre-made. You had to make it yourself (method: Make up a jelly with only half a pint of water, leave it until it's nearly set then make up a packet of Dream Topping and whisk it into the jelly. Leave in the fridge to set for a couple of hours). Big favourite of mums who wanted to impress at birthday parties. Best with lemon jelly but I went for raspberry because that was all we had in the cupboard. Felt like I should decorate it with fresh raspberries but nobody ever had them in the 80s so I spunked a load of hundreds and thousands all over it as tradition dictates.

4. Vanilla ice cream with Ice Magic. I had to cheat because Ice Magic no longer exists. I know, I am sad about this too. I had to use an imposter called 'Crackin' made by Askeys.

My brave volunteers couldn't wait this time (remember, these oddballs actually enjoyed fruit cocktail out of a tin last time and spurned butterscotch Angel Delight, so I should really find myself some new testers TBH).

1. Tinned peaches in evaporated milk:

Man: "This is another classic from my Nanny's house."

Boy: "I love tinned peaches, we get them at school."

Man: "Wait..."

Boy: "I'm just..."

*everyone turns green and runs for the bin to spit their mouthful out*

Me: "Do you want some bread with that?"

Verdict: No.

***there had to be a short break here while everyone fought back their nausea and composed themselves***

2. Vienetta

Boy: "I'm going to need the biggest bit of that."

Man: "Always a classic. Satisfying crack to the chocolate as you bite through it...creamy ice cream..."
Boy: "This is delicious."

Man: "This was the poshest ice cream ever in 1985."

Me: "Doesn't really taste of much if I'm honest, but I am feeling so fancy right now."

Verdict: Apparently like crack to children but doesn't actually taste of anything. Needs to be eaten with those little dessert forks for full effect.

3. Jelly mousse

Boy: "You know I don't like mousse..."
Me: "This is special 80s mousse. Try it."
Man: "Oh my God, that's sweet;

Me: "You live on sugar."

Man: "But this is even too sweet for me."

Boy: *is stuffing it in his face as if he hasn't already eaten 2 puddings*

Verdict: Very very very sweet. Children still impressed. Tastes like birthday parties to me. Makes you feel like a real mum when you make it.

4. Vanilla ice cream with (fake) Ice Magic

*everyone gathers around to watch the magical setting chocolate sauce*

Me: "Is it actually doing anything?"

Man: "Hmmmm."

Boy: "It's got a sort of skin on it."

Me: "It's definitely set a bit."

*time passes*
Me: "OK, I think that's it."

Man: "Didn't ice magic used to set completely hard like a shell?"
Me: "I think it did."

Man: "This is like...rubbery stuff. That tastes of lard."
Me (checking label): "That's the main ingredient."

Boy: "I'll eat it."

Verdict: Do not buy the crappy, knock-off Ice Magic. It doesn't set - probably because use of liquid nitrogen in food got banned in the 90s or something. It also tastes like slightly chocolatey fat. The child still ate it though.

Got any other retro delights you'd like us to test? Let me know and I'll make it happen.