Boner time.

Well this will disappoint the porn buffs who searched for that title. Next time use both hands on the keyboard and leave the sweaty thing alone.

I recall, and I’m sure I’ve told you all before, my grandmother sending me to the butcher’s for a ‘bone for the dog’. We came back with something like half a cow’s skeletal leg wrapped in newspaper. It was free – the butcher was going to throw the bones away anyway.

My grandmother made soup using the boiled contents of the bone as stock. Oh – and we didn’t have a dog at that time.

Pig’s trotters was another ‘poor food’ – not a lot on them but very very cheap. Then there was pig’s head brawn – at least six meals for ten shillings (50p) in the late seventies.

Now, as with pizza, Welsh rarebit and fondue (all of which are cheese on toast really) they have moved from poor-man’s food to trendy. That marrow bone I used to get free in the sixties?

And as Waitrose is selling it for £4.99 (although — whisper it — you may find it cheaper in a local butcher’s shop) this is one fashionable dining fad that’s rather affordable.

Affordable? Something that was free is now a fiver and that’s affordable? Get stuffed. I can get a full pore-blaster curry from the local takeaway at that price. I am not spending that on offal.

Chefs claim bone marrow is a tasty, cheap and easy way to add meaty flavour to soups, stocks and gravies,

These are professional chefs. They have discovered something everyone knew about fifty years ago. And they are so pleased with themselves.

They don’t bother thinking ‘So now we’ve made poor people’s food trendy and expensive, what will poor people eat?’

What a bunch of dicks.

Advertisements

29 thoughts on “Boner time.

  1. Roadkill? Maybe some Chefs could big-up Freegan food. Then Waitrose can throw out the old stuff, then bring it back in, mark it up and stick back on the shelves!

    Like

  2. The world has lost any understanding of social history. Many, if not most, of the ‘new ideas’ floating around now were well known generations ago, but probably passed on by word of mouth while teaching housekeeping skills from mother to daughter – so not in the history books or in the university courses taken by modern experts.

    Like

  3. I think this kind of ‘poverty food chic’ is an unofficial version of the sumptuary laws. It used to be the case that only the wealthy could afford to eat what they liked, now most people can, so the sort of food they want, tasty, easy to prepare and usually quite high in calories has to be condemned as unhealthy. Conversely the kind of food the poor used to eat has been taken up by the well heeled and status conscious, it’s sold at Waitrose so it must be OK seems to be the thinking. Of course the market responds to that by upping the price which only makes it the more enticing. When it reaches ten quid a pound it will really have arrived.

    If the lower orders were still eating pig’s trotters and the like some way of placing them on the degenerate foods list would be found and the calls for their removal from the butcher’s shelves would be taken up by those lovely people in public health.

    Like

    • Nostalgia: Post war diet in my house included pigs trotters, tripe and onions, dumplings with mutton stew, batter pudding with or before the Sunday roast (my dad had it separately before the main meal, as did many of his generation), soused herrings, bloaters, winkles for grandad on Saturdays, picked out with a pin around the time of the football results; rice pudding and jam for pudding, sometimes batter pudding with treacle; also at any time, dripping on toast, with sugar, (I loved that) and, for the ten year old me, a wine glass of grandma’s Guinness on Sundays. Grandad enjoyed a Woodbine by the coal fire. Sometimes I went to fetch Grandma 10 Senior Service. She always had one on the go when, at the large kitchen sink, she plucked and cleaned the occasional chicken sent up from her brother’s farm.We never went short, during or after the war.

      Like

      • I grew up in the fifties and early sixties and our diet wasn’t so different, mention of winkles for tea – Sunday in our case – brings back particularly potent memories. My Mum’s family before the war used to harvest them direct from the beach as did a lot of families in those days. I’m firmly of the opinion that those of us old enough to recall such a way of life are lucky, it would be condemned out of hand these days as an unhealthy diet. My Mum is still alive aged 84, her sister died a few years ago aged 88 and their brother was 82 when he went, if that’s what a bad diet does for you I hope I live to be so unhealthy.

        Like

  4. Or you could try the new take on Lancashire hot pot I saw on some ‘cheffy’ programme- not just without lamb; meat free. A vegetarian hot pot. You couldn’t make it up, except the chef did make it up, and even kept a straight face. Perhaps some innovative chef could do a new take on nut roast and stuff it with pork sausages. I’d try that one

    Like

  5. I really have to laugh at these characters. Before I was laid low, the bone from my Sunday roast and any remaining chicken carcasses were patiently and carefully simmered with herbs and vegetables to make pints of beautifully aromatic stock, which I divided into neatly bagged portions and froze. The perfect base for dense, warming winter soups and rich, full flavoured gravies and sauces. Saved a fortune and tasted twice as good as anything on sale.

    Before I was dragged off to infant school under armed escort, I watched my Granny deploying her formidable battery of basic skills in the kitchen, so when I finally had to shift for myself I found I had hard-wired memories not only of how to cook, but how to re-use leftovers and how to plan.

    Not that there weren’t a few disasters. My first single handed Xmas was a serial disaster starting with absently attempting to combine the stuffing mix by hand. Don’t do it, it’s like sage and onion napalm, very hot and it sticks to skin. The shrink-wrapped turkey was so deformed by it’s polythene imprisonment that I accidentally roasted it upside down. The bottom was a toothsome glistening golden colour, while the breast looked like a nudist’s arse in November, so back he went. I ate just after 7pm. Still, the Talbot was open for regulars, so all was not lost.

    What the upcoming generation’s going to do, I dread to think…

    Like

    • What will they do when the pre-packed stuff runs out? I’m hearing more and more people every year ask me how I ‘process’ the fruit and veg i’ve grown so it’s ready to eat.

      ‘Process’? I don’t always bother to wash the dirt off!

      Like

  6. Off topic but the wild tobacco plant is truly amazing (begins around the twenty minute mark in this video). The rest of the featured plants are pretty awesome to.

    Like

  7. Another thing I have found almost impossible to get in recent years, is bacon bones. You really need bacon bones for proper scotch broth.
    And I’m seeing brisket of beef, with hardly a milligram of fat on it.

    Like

    • Now you mention it, I haven’t seen a bacon bone in many years. As for beef, I buy the cheap cuts with a good amount of fat. People are scared of fat now so meat with very little fat is expensive abd teh fatty meat is cheap. Suits me – a fatless roast is far too dry.

      Like

    • True, I went at the problem by either using a mutton bone (preferably a leg), or boiling an unsmoked gammon joint. No bone, but if you strain it and reduce it, then you’ll have a workable substitute…

      Like

First comments are moderated to keep the spambots out. Once your first comment is approved, you're in.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s