Three Chimneys: Grilled Lamb with Barley Risotto

Well, this one was a lot more hassle than it needed to be. Let's start with ingredients. Most of them, just fine. The lamb? Getting a piece of trimmed off-the-bone loin of lamb is no problem - if you can get to a butcher, and he has it, and he's willing to accept your I-don't-really-know-what-I'm-asking-for-ness. Which I couldn't. So, nearest available substitute from the supermarket then - lamb loin chops.
Next problem - wild garlic. The title of the dish is actually supposed to be grilled loin of lamb with barley risotto and wild garlic gravy. I wouldn't know wild garlic if I tripped over it, and I don't think it's in season now anyway. So, since the book does say that it's possible to substitute, I went for a red wine and redcurrant one, rather than wild garlic and Madeira.
The theory of how to put the dish together seemed simple enough. Start the lamb marinading. Make the gravy. Make the risotto. Grill the lamb. Assemble on plate. The detail got a bit more complicated for me - much more than it needed to be.
I think that half my problem was that I didn't give myself enough time. With all of the chopping of various things for the gravy and the risotto, and various steps involved in making them, I think I underestimated the time it would take for each thing, and overestimated the amount I could do in parallel. Lesson? When doing something this complicated for the first time, study the recipe in detail, get all your stuff chopped and ready to go before you start, and always give yourself more time that you think you'll need.
Will I make this again? Probably. But without the gravy.

Three Chimneys: Cranachan

Left it until quite late to decide what I was going to make this week. In the end, I went for one of the simplest things possible: cranachan. How simple? Toast some oatmeal and leave to cool. Take double cream. Add whisky and honey. Whisk until as firm as you want it. Fold in most of the oatmeal. Pile into glasses with raspberries. Sprinkle remaining oatmeal on top.
The one major ingredient purchase this required for me? Whisky. The local supermarket has a limited selection. I think I took quite a while to make my decision. Yes, it has the one that really should be used for this (and the other whisky-using recipes in the book) - Talisker. But it's expensive (well, relatively). Can I justify buying it? There's half bottles there of other whiskies that are probably just as good. Yes, but they're not Skye whiskies. And back and forth I went. Yes, I did buy the Talisker. How could I not?

Three Chimneys: Cod, in Saffron Mussel Sauce with Skirlie Mash

I have never been able to eat mussels. Well, I did once manage to eat one, but that was with my eyes closed, and before I actually looked at them. They just look so, well, alien I suppose. Or like little mouths - as if they might bite back.
I wasn't sure whether I'd be able to get the fresh mussels I needed for this recipe. I did have an idea for a backup - although it would have changed the recipe somewhat. Luckily, D managed to find some fresh mussels at the supermarket fish counter.
Having never eaten mussels, it's hardly surprising I've never cooked them before either. Yes, I know the theory - discard any that are open, or have cracked shells, before you cook them, and discard any that are closed after you cook them. So, with D's help in the preparation (i.e. he did all the cleaning and discarding), we got the mussels cooked. It was actually stupidly amazing - all these closed shells tipped into the bubbling wine/stock/onion/parsley in the frying pan, lid on, leave for a few minutes. Take the lid off and wow, they've all opened! Yummy smells, and yes, I did actually eat one then. Fresh out of the shell.
Once the mussels are done, the rest of the dish is fairly easy, it just all needs to come together at once. I'd already prepared the skirlie bit of the skirlie mash a bit in advance. What is it? Well, basically it's finely chopped onion and oatmeal fried together in butter. While the potatoes were cooking, reduced the liquid the mussels had been cooked in, and added the (again, prepared in advance) fennel and onion and a pinch of saffron. While the cod was grilling, added some cream and the mussels into the sauce, and finished of the skirlie mash - basically as it sounds, mash the skirlie into the potatoes (with a bit more butter). It just gives a bit more texture and flavour to the mash.
Not being a restaurant kitchen, plating was nothing fancy. But it tasted good. Will I eat mussels again? Well, there's another recipe with them in...

Three Chimneys: Rhubarb Crumble Tart

I thought I'd start with a Sunday dessert that didn't look too daunting, the Rhubarb Crumble Tart. This is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. You start off with a sweet shortcrust pastry case, fill it with some cooked rhubarb, cover it with crumble topping, and bake.
Right. Portion sizes? There's only two of us. If I make the full tart, we're going to be eating it for ages. So I'll make two small ones.
First step in the recipe: line the tart time with sweet shortcrust pastry and bake blind. Ok....sweet shortcrust pastry? Don't want to buy it. No recipe for it in this book. So turn to the bookshelf, and come up with a recipe from Chocolate and Zucchini. Scale it down appropriately, and it's just what I need.
While the lined tart tins are chilling before their first baking, do the rhubarb. Freshly pulled, from the crowns in the back garden. Well they were here anyway, so i may as well use them. The rhubarb is sliced and baked with some orange juice, light brown sugar, and a couple of pieces of ginger. I'm a bit worried that there's too much sugar going in, but follow the recipe anyway.
With the rhubarb out of the oven, the tart cases go in. While these are baking, I make the crumble topping. I don't think my butter is as chilled as it should be, or else my hands are quite warm, but things don't quite rub together to the texture of sand as they should - the butter gets very sift and sticks together in some large bits, with some smaller sandy bits. So I go ahead and add the sugar, nuts and oats in, and rub it all together as best I can. It looks a bit more like very fine gravel than coarse sand, but I think it'll do the job. It goes back in the fridge until I'm ready for it.
The tart cases have come out of the oven and been left to cool for a bit before final assembly. A bit of the crumble topping gets sprinkled over the bases, just enough to cover them. Next, the rhubarb is divided between the cases. Finally, the rhubarb is covered with more of the crumble topping. Then it's back into the oven for a final baking.
The verdict? A success. I needn't have worried about the amount of sugar in the rhubarb, it wasn't too sweet (but it wasn't quite as sharp as I sometimes like it). The pastry worked well, and I'll be using that crumble topping again.

Joining In

Well, after some discussion, the decision was made: I'm going to try to cook as many recipes as possible from The Three Chimneys.