Well, not totally – it almost worked. I’ve enjoyed rhubarb sauce with pork and mackerel before and I wanted to see if I could branch out a bit into other meats. The quail seemed a bit of a stretch but I figured if I could spice it up right then it might just be magic – the idea being I would use ground ginger to tie the meat and rhubarb together.

Sadly, the results were disappointing. The whole time I was eating all I could think was, ‘this would be great with pork’, which says it all really. Still, you don’t know if you don’t try, eh? Otherwise life is boring. I picked every last piece of flesh from the crispy, spiced, succulent little quails and ate the rhubarb sauce atop fruit and yoghurt the next day instead. Very nice it was too.

Rhubarb Sauce (for mackerel or pork but if you make it work with quail, do let me know)

400g rhubarb, cut into 1″ lengths
3-4 tbsp caster sugar (start with 2-3 tablespoons then keep tasting and adding as necessary)
Zest and juice of 1 orange
Pinch of ground ginger (optional)

- Whack everything in a pan and let it bubble up to the boil, then reduce the heat and simmer until the rhubarb is falling apart.
- Blitz in a processor if you want a smooth sauce. Season to taste with salt.

What is wrong with me? Why can’t I make crumpets? I have the odd cooking fail every now and again but seriously, this is getting out of hand. Thank you to everyone who sent me recipes after this heart breaker. I had a hard time choosing which one to make. In the end I decided to go with the super detailed advice from Bea of Bea’s of Bloomsbury.

She sent me a fairly lengthy e-mail about gluten strands, warmth of ingredients and resting of batter. I tried to take in as much information as I could but was really quite relieved when she followed it up with a link to this recipe, which apparently “seems to address the issues involved (temperature, gluten strands, and a loose batter)”. Apart from following Bea’s suggestion to replace the powdered milk and water with warm milk (low fat 2%), I followed the recipe to the letter. It seemed to be going well. Note how it mentions the resting is important to let the gases build up inside? Well, check out those gases above!

I then set it aside for the second resting and it rose up like a yeasty batter Behemoth. I was feeling incredibly optimistic at this stage, even pouring myself a celebratory G&T and letting forth a satisfied chuckle. The skillet was preheated and the crumpet rings oiled. And then this is where it all went wrong. I followed the instructions closely, “cook for 4-8 minutes over medium heat”. I tried it first in the rings and then got bored with the failures and started free styling, as you can see from the finished ‘crumpets’. This seemed to work a bit better as they do have some holes at least.

The most frustrating thing is that they are so very nearly there. The taste of the batter is spot on. The texture within is cooked perfectly – spongy and light and not at all raw. I just wish I knew why they don’t have more holes. Seriously people, I am begging you – help me please! I’ve found my cooking nemesis and I will not be beaten.

I was determined to BBQ last weekend, come rain or shine. In the end we got a bit of both and I managed to grill this fowl without the need to employ the emergency umbrella technique. The jerk sauce is a work in progress right now as very annoyingly I lost my recipe which only needed slight improvement after going down well at the Tipped Winter BBQ. This sauce needs more sticky sweetness and I’m pretty sure I added tomato ketchup the first time around. Is that a crime against jerk?

The main reason I wanted to make this anyway was for the method, which I came across in Fiona Beckett’s book ‘The Frugal Cook’, when I reviewed it here. It basically involves lowering a chicken onto a half full can of beer and then gently turning it onto the BBQ. The steam from the beer keeps the bird incredibly moist – the fact that it looks funny is a bonus.

Jerk Beer Can Chicken

Jerk seasoning, enough for two medium sized chickens (like I say, this is work in progress, it’s yummy but I’ll experiment with the ketchup)

4 scotch bonnet chillies, de-seeded
1 tsp ground allspice
1 tsp salt
1 tsp black pepper
6 spring onions
50g ginger
8 garlic cloves
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp cloves
2 tbsp thyme leaves
2 tbsp brown sugar
120 ml white wine vinegar

- Whack the whole lot in a food processor and slather it over the meat. Let it sit for as long as possible, ideally overnight.

The Beer Can Method (from The Frugal Cook by Fiona Beckett)

- Fiona doesn’t mention her BBQ lighting preferences but I prepare mine for cooking large bits of meat or chickens by lighting the coals in the centre, letting the flames burn off and when the coals are white hot, move them to the sides. Put a drip tray (I use a small roasting tin) in between the coals, then put the grill on top and you’re good to go.
- Drink half the beer from the can then lightly oil the can and sit the chicken on top of it (as below). Then lay it carefully on the BBQ, cover and cook for about an hour for a medium sized chicken. The bird is cooked when you pierce with a skewer at the thickest part of the leg and the juices run clear.
- Use tongs to remove the beer can and then transfer the chicken to to a warm dish. Let rest for 10 minutes or so and then serve.

Is it just me, or does anyone else spend their time in the pub this way? Debating important and potentially life-changing conundrums such as – ‘pork or beef?’ (if you could only eat one for the rest of your life), ‘tomato ketchup or brown sauce?’ (in a bacon sandwich, naturally) and now this – the probability of turning out a decent, oven-baked scotch egg*. Instinct says it can’t be done, but then I started wondering – maybe we should be giving the baking a chance? Just how well could they really hold up against traditionally fried counterparts? There’s only one way to find out for a geek like me.

I used a recipe from Paganum’s food blog, fitting because they also supplied the meat (me gushing about them here) and followed the basic gist, swapping parsley for sage and employing a cheeky little clingfilm method for the assembly.

Lay out a meaty bed for your hard-boiled egg on a piece of clingfilm.

Plonk the egg in the middle.

Gather up the sides and squish the meat around the egg.

And, they are ready for a good egging and crumbing…

…like so. Except, FAIL #1: I didn’t have enough oil for deep frying and so had to shallow fry and cross my fingers instead. They looked great, an excellent golden colour, so I carefully spooned them out to let the excess oil drain off.

Then an excruciating wait (at least three minutes), before I finally gave in and cut one open. Only to find…raw sausagemeat – oops. I made the sausage layer too thick, leaving it still uncooked in places. Either that, or the shallow frying method failed me. Probably a bit of both (FAIL #2).

So, they go in the oven with the baked eggs anyway, which basically ruins the experiment. In the interests of all being right and good however, here’s the results.

As you can see, the oven baked egg looks anaemic in comparison to the fried and it doesn’t have the same calibre of ‘crust’. That said, those baked eggs are pretty damn crispy anyway (I turned them during cooking) – still immensely satisfying. And inside?

The baked is on the right in this picture and I can honestly say, no difference whatsoever within the crumb – both as perfectly juicy and delicious as the other. So all things considered, there ain’t much between them but you’re going to go for the fried, right? Right. Because the golden crunch is important dammit! All of which means that here we have yet another example of why you don’t bother making a low fat version of a high fat snack. It’s never going to be the same, you’re missing the point.

And so what advice can I actually pass on after all that fuss? Don’t eat three scotch eggs all to yourself, that’s what. Not all in the space of an hour anyway. The after effects are not desirable and include nausea, guilt and an extra inch on the waistline. On the upside, the taste and texture is out of this world – a totally different experience to those supermarket fakes – yucky egg mayonnaise inside grey, textureless flesh (God knows what that’s made from), and don’t forget the suspiciously hued crumb.

Next time, I’ll either stick with the frying or try misting the baked eggs with oil to brown them up more. I’ll also be having another bash at making home made salad cream to go with them, although I won’t be using this recipe, which needed so much adjustment on my part, it’s too complicated to pass on.

In the meantime, Chris has made some pork and apple ’sausages’ with the leftover meat, which will later be transformed (I am told), into a toad in the hole, with onion gravy.  Considering Chris’s gift for making perfect Yorkshire puddings, this is a very exciting prospect for my tummy – not to mention perfectly suited to the unusual winter weather!

* Yes I realise all three of those examples involve pork.