Have I ever told you guys about the two weeks I worked as a Beetroot Inspector?  Strictly speaking, the job title was “Process Operator”, but Beetroot Inspector sounded much more fun, and it was also far more accurate a description of what I actually did.  Yup, I inspected beetroot.  For eight hours a day, I stood at a conveyor belt wearing rubber gloves and a white coat, armed with a vegetable peeler and the grimmest of expressions.  My task was to weed through thousands upon thousands of steamed beets as they trundled past me, their destination pickling, then packaging, then distribution to all of the UK’s major supermarket chains.  It was serious stuff.

My beetroot days came fresh out of uni: I was poor, living with my parents and desperately in need of something to tide me over financially while I waited to start my graduate research post in the Autumn.  And despite the obvious downsides – the 5am starts, the factory politics and the fact that I could almost physically feel my woefully underused brain rotting itself into oblivion – I actually had a really great time.  One of my best friends worked on the line next to me and we’d laugh constantly at each other’s factory attire, or we’d carve smiley faces out of individual beets as they passed us by.  Then, as soon as the clock struck 2pm, we would cast off our hair nets and drive home, the air in my tiny second-hand car thick with the putrid stench of industrially-steamed root vegetable.

A charming picture, right?

Anyway, I’m digressing.  Prior to my employment as a Beetroot Inspector, I absolutely loved eating beetroot.  Couldn’t get enough, in fact.  Post-employment, however, and as much as it was fun while it lasted, I couldn’t even look at the stuff without feeling physically sick and attempting to leave the room.  It wasn’t until I started having a fortnightly farm box delivered  a couple of years ago that beetroot began to appear in my life once again.  Every box in a while there would be three or four of them, freshly pulled from the ground, covered in dirt and sniggering at me from the bottom of the crate.  It was only then, when my inbuilt aversions a) to being mocked by vegetables and b) to throwing away perfectly edible food kicked in that I realised it was just about time beetroot and I fell back in love.

And we have.  As it turns out our relationship is even stronger than it was before my inspecting days.  Back then, I had a blinkered view of what beetroot had to offer me: I only had eyes for the pickled kind that comes in jars and tastes great in salads or as a quick post-work snack.  A mistake, friends.  Beetroot is massively flexible in its uses: transformed into fritters, baked into chocolate cakes, stirred into dips – the possibilities seem endless.  I made this rather neon dip effort tonight (grated beetroot, chopped coriander, sea salt and natural yoghurt) and ate it stuffed into wholegrain pitta breads with falafel, cucumber and avocado.  I’ve since been popping back to the kitchen every half hour to scoff some of the leftovers straight from the bowl.  Totally delicious, and so amazingly good for you it hurts.

So.  If there is a moral to this long-winded tale, I suppose it would have to be this:

Good things really can come from working as a Beetroot Inspector.

Worth knowing, right?

What are your favourite beetroot recipes/embarrassing-yet-hilarious jobs?

I’m always on the look out for recipes that will do justice to the mountains of dirty, earthy, delicious potatoes I receive in my veg box every fortnight.  And you know what?  These lovely fishcakes are just the ticket for such a task.  Cheap, fun to make and pretty gosh darn nutritious as well – a  triple win situation as far as I’m concerned.

So!  To whip yourself up a batch of these super scrumptious cakey delights you will need to arm yourself with the following:

• Roughly 1lb potatoes (I’m sure there’s a particular type of potato out there that makes the best ‘cakes, but I just use whatever’s going – they’re all delicious in my book!).
• Roughly 1lb fish.  I used smoked haddock when I made this batch, but you can also use cod, tuna, salmon and all kinds of other frutti di mare that I can’t name right now.
• 1 lemon
• 4-5 spring onions
• 1 egg
• Salt and pepper
• Oil for frying
• Breadcrumbs for coating (optional – you can fry your fishcakes au natural if you fancy it)

Method

1. Boil up your potatoes in some salty water.  Drain, season and mash.  Don’t worry about making it completely smooth – the odd lump will add to the texture.
2. Whisk your egg in a cup, and chop up your spring onions.
3. While the potatoes are boiling, either grill or poach your fish.  When it’s done, break it up roughly with a fork.
4. Combine the cooked fish with the mashed potato, add the spring onions and the whisked egg and season well with salt, pepper and a squeeze of lemon juice.  Fold the mixture together with a spoon (avoid beating it as you’ll ruin the texture).
5. Now for the fun bit!  Get your (hopefully clean) hands in the bowl and start to mould your ‘cakes!  I made giant ones as you can see but you can make them whatever size you like, depending on your preference and the number of people you need to feed.
6. Roll your newly-formed fishcakes in some breadcrumbs if you’re using them, and then place in a hot frying pan with a splash of oil.  Gently fry on both sides until the fishcakes are heated right through and golden brown to look at.

Ta da!  Serve up with a fresh green salad, a cheeky hard boiled egg and a dollop of tartar sauce/mayo.  Delicious!  You can also vary the recipe in a flash: why not try using a different kind of fish?  Or swap the spring onion for a few sprigs of parsley or even a hint of chilli?  The combinations are endless…enjoy!

If you keep your own vegetable garden, or even tend a couple of window boxes, this recipe is a great one for using up any near-to or overripe produce you have.  And if, like me, you yearn for your own space to grow but instead live in a tenement and have to make do with a farm box or the supermarket, this recipe is equally as good for using up those little bits and pieces that will otherwise be left to shrivel in the fridge.

Veggie lasagne works in exactly the same way as meat-based lasagne.  You need two pots (one for your tomato base and another, smaller one for your cheese sauce) and an oven-proof dish for the lasagne itself, preferably a square or rectangular one (I usually use a loaf tin, which works really well).  You also need a good hour or so to make this dish, so it might be best left for a weekend.  I love to make it on a Sunday, with some home-made roast potatoes or wedges on the side.  And depending upon the size of dish you use, you can end up with a couple of lunches’ worth of leftovers, which to my mind makes all that peeling and chopping well worth it.

Ingredients

The beauty of this recipe lies in its flexibility.  It really doesn’t matter what vegetables you put in it – as long as you follow a few basic rules, the effect will be fantastic.  When I took these photos I was using the following:

• 1 onion
• 3 cloves garlic
• 1 leek
• 1 red pepper
• 1 medium-sized aubergine
• 1 smallish courgette
• One third of a butternut squash
• 1 carrot
• 1 parsnip
• 2 tins chopped tomatoes
• Tomato puree
• Salt + pepper

1. Chop the onion and the garlic finely and fry them lightly in some oil.
2. Slice the leek and add to the pot after a few minutes.
3. Chop the other vegetables into small-ish cubes.  They needn’t be perfectly shaped but try to avoid making them too large as they’ll take much longer to cook.  Add to the onion mixture and stir for 5 or so minutes on a medium heat to let everything soften up and sweat a little.  When added to the pot and mixed in well they should look something like the above.
4. Add the tins of chopped tomatoes, a generous squirt of tomato puree and lots and lots of seasoning.  Switch to a low-ish heat and leave to simmer while you prepare the cheese sauce.

When it comes to cheese sauce, I’m no expert.  In fact, it wasn’t until last year that I finally cracked the passable cheese sauce code and learned to make it without lumps and curdling.  There’s a good recipe courtesy of the beeb here, which should get you there without too much screeching.  I always like to add a teaspoon of mustard and my chosen cheese is invariably cheddar.

Once you have the tomato mix simmering away, and the cheese sauce nice and thick, it’s time for the fun layering part.  I do one layer vegetables, one layer pasta sheets (I proudly use the value ones at 27p a pack – they’re brilliant) and one layer of cheese sauce.  In total, I go for 3-4 layers, finishing with the last of the cheese sauce and a good handful of grated cheese and coarse black pepper for the top.**  Then it’s off to the oven for 20-25 minutes to let everything come together.  The result?

Served with some roughly torn spinach, balsamic vinegar and a few cherry tomatoes.  Delicious.

**If you have any tomato mixture left over, save it for lunch the next day: it’s lovely spooned over toast with a little parmesan on top.

This is the view from my bedroom window. Leafy, huh? I like to tell myself that all that clever photosynthesis-y stuff that’s taking place out there is seeping through the window and having a positive effect on my intelligence levels. A long shot, I know, but it keeps me happy. If they aren’t making me any smarter those leaves are definitely making me feel cheerful, which is never a bad thing, let’s be honest.

There’s a lot more than simply a bunch of trees out there. I get regular visits from the neighbourhood squirrels, rowdy, talkative bunch that they are, and then there’s the family of foxes I can hear scampering past every now and then on their way out to be terrorised by Edinburgh’s anti-fox snobbery contingent (leave them alone haters!).

Anyway. Here we are, mid-September and on Autumn’s doorstep. I can never decide what my favourite season is. It’s always a toss up between Spring and Autumn. Spring has swathes of delightful stuff to put it in poll position. Daffodils, for example. Cherry blossom, Easter, the casting off of the Winter warmers and the donning of flip flops (if we’re lucky). When Spring arrives we can start to look forward to days in the park, picnics, trips to the beach and Summer holidays. Spring is a season full of promise and excitement – if I didn’t have Spring to look forward to each year I’m sure I’d be far the worse off for it.

But Autumn isn’t going to be defeated that easily. Hell no. Take late afternoon sunsets. Crispy orange leaves. The back to school vibe. The drawing in of the evenings and the finding that it’s now perfectly acceptable to bunker down on the couch with a steaming mug of tea and a crap film. Autumn is the season of new beginnings, of a refreshing break from the norm, or of the welcome return to the norm following the holiday season. It’s the season of new textbooks, sharpened pencils and clean white notepads, the first page of which always receives the perfect handwriting treatment. No, Autumn is not so easily defeated.

This Autumn in particular is definitely one of new beginnings for me. The very fact that I’m now able to sit here at my computer first thing on a Tuesday morning and debate the merits of my two favourite seasons is just one such new beginning (hello joblessness!). And in true celebratory style, I’ve made myself a pot of fresh coffee and have rocked out my china milk jug, just for laughs and that coveted special occasion vibe. Other new beginnings on my list are my course, which starts next Monday, and my new living situation which isn’t quite sorted yet but which will hopefully resolve itself into something exciting and interesting very soon. And then there’s my new fiction writing project. After its seed arrived in my life somewhere between sleep and consciousness one night last week, this is now taking over many of my fully wakened thoughts in a really challenging, but also really good way.

To bolster my fresh start feeling I spent most of yesterday at home in my pyjamas, rotating my wardrobe to reflect the new season (which entailed saying a fond goodbye to my summer dresses for another year, sigh); de-cluttering my drawers and desk and offloading a pile of things that didn’t sell on eBay last month to the nearby charity shop. I also found a home for this ridiculously pleasing giant teacup (shown next to a normal teacup to give an idea of scale!), a birthday present from my grandparents which I picked up last week. It’s really a plant pot, but seeing as my last horticultural attempt ended in tears and non-germination I’ve decided to use it as an accessories container. And I find it rather sweet, I have to say!

As a result of my efforts my living space is now clean, tidy, and ready to be messed up again. I finished off yesterday with a spell of meal planning and a food shop. This week’s menu includes a cobb salad (which I had never heard of before I went to America but which undoubtedly deserves a big fat YUM. Involves grilled chicken breast, blue cheese, avocado and lots of crunchy lettuce), leek and potato soup with homemade wholemeal bread, pizza with green peppers, mozzarella, mushrooms, olives and red onion and a thai green curry with king prawns, rice and broccoli. My boyfriend and I are off caravanning this weekend (whoop!) so whatever is uneaten by Friday I’ll take with us to the seaside.

Today I’m off to meet a friend for lunch to swap holiday stories, pick up my student card (finally the discount! Hair, you are getting CUT!) and sort out the payment of my tuition fees. Tonight I’m going to another friend’s house for dinner. Happy September Tuesday everyone!

My fruit and veg box is delivered once a fortnight, straight to my door.  And a couple of months’ experience has convinced me that it’s a great service.  It saves me from making too many trips to the supermarket, which I hate with a vehement passion; it encourages me to make vegetables the main focus of my meals, and it also costs very little: £9 per week, inclusive of doorstep delivery.  That £9 buys me 11 different types of vegetable and five of fruit.  All organic, all locally produced, all insanely delicious.

The other great thing about the box is that it has forced me to get creative with my cooking, and to experiment with new dishes.  Before I signed up to the scheme I had never made aubergine parmigiana; or a green bean stew; or even a carrot cake for that matter.  Now, a couple of months in, I’ve made all three.  Some more than once.  I now cycle home with the greatest of enthusiasm every second Thursday, so eager am I to examine the new loot and decide what goodies I’m going to make with it.

But the biggest way in which the box has forced me to create in the kitchen has been in finding new and inventive ways to use up the truckloads of potatoes it brings my way every fortnight.  Potatoes are one of the crate’s ‘staple’ ingredients, which means a big bag of them arrives with every delivery, along with other basics like tomatoes, carrots, onions, apples and bananas.  And this has proved rather difficult for me – it always seems like I’m rushing to get through yet more spuds in time for the next batch arriving.  I’m like a crazy spud lady: ‘WE MUST EAT SOMETHING WITH POTATOES IN IT!!’ I scream at my hapless boyfriend with alarming regularity.  It’s far from a pretty sight, let me assure you.

But perseverance is (very slowly) beginning to produce results.  In the last month or so I’ve made home-made chips, fried potato and chorizo salad and potato dauphinoise.  I’ve also made a couple of potato curries, and added some diced spuds to a veggie chilli I had on the go.  And last night I found myself onto another winner: my own version of Fisherman’s Pie.

It might be August but that’s no reason not to indulge in a little hearty comfort food every now and then.  And that’s what Fisherman’s Pie, to me at least, is really all about.  Lovely chunks of succulent fish in a creamy white sauce, with spades and spades of mashed potato smoothed over the top.  I used leeks in my white sauce, and didn’t bother with parsley.  The effect was pretty lovely all the same…

Ingredients

• 5 or 6 large-ish potatoes
• 1 pack of mixed fish pieces.  This genius invention I found in my local Tesco.  Fresh chunks of salmon, cod and smoked haddock, together in the same pack for around £3.  I’d love to say I went to the fishmonger and hand picked the finest fillets I could see, heck, I’d love to say I paddled out to sea in a dingy and caught my own.  Alas, I did neither.  I have a full time job and a budget.  I ain’t got time for no fishin’.
• 1 onion, chopped
• 1 leek, finely sliced
• 2 cloves garlic, chopped
• Lots of milk for poaching the fish, butter and flour for the white sauce.
• Salt and pepper to season

Method

• Heat the oven to around 180 degrees (my default temperature).
• Pour some milk into a pan and gently poach the fish over a very low heat.  Sweat the onion, leek and garlic in some butter.  Put the potatoes on to boil.
• Make a roux with some more butter and some plain flour, and gradually add milk.  I used the milk from the pan of fish for extra flavour (once the fish had cooked that is!).
• Stir the white sauce well, and keep stirring until it’s reasonably thick and smooth.  Add the leeks/onion mix and the poached fish, season with salt and pepper and stir.  Spoon into the bottom of an oven-proof dish.
• Once the potatoes are cooked through, drain them, and mash them however you like.  I normally use a blob of mayonnaise, salt and pepper, a little milk and some wholegrain mustard.
• Spread the mash evenly over the fish mixture and pop the whole thing into the oven for 20 minutes or so.  5 minutes before the end you can grate some cheddar over the top if that floats your boat.  It certainly does mine!

Serve and enjoy – fantastic fish pie, a recipe guaranteed to fill you up AND get rid of your excess spuds.  I enjoyed mine so much that I forgot to take a photo of it.  So you’ll have to make do with this pretty fisherman picture from Flickr, courtesy of Moonstar.