Am I the only one who wouldn't want to alarm my friends with anything I'd cooked? Also melting rich succulence sounds mingin, as does the combo of coffee, beans and pears.
Slopalong #3 She doesn't understand beans
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It makes me think of poppers. Once again highlighting the diversity of the canal I feel.
I'm fairly sure I bought lube with that name in my younger, racier days
.
<Imagines using poppers as lube>. 
CONFIT 'DUCK' AND PEAR CASSOULET PART UN (IT'S FRENCH YOU SEE)
Good evening frauen. Tonight's slop will come to you in two parts. This is actually quite a labour intensive dish (Jack doing work whaaaat), although it features Jack being under INTENSE PRESSURE cos someone said her vegan food was beautiful (lol) but simultaneously not having prepared to host Countryfile presenter Tom Heap so it turns out she just cooks him any old wrinkled veg rolling around in her fridge
plus ca change, Jack, plus ca change...
Of course Tom and the team wolf it down in a feverish dervish, completely amazed at how Jack had concocted such ambrosia from her weird little head. At one point Tom's eyebrows vanish into his hairline when Jack reveals she used the maverick ingredient of coffee, something that has literally never been put into a dish of food before. Personally I couldn't wait to check if my botox was still working so I scampered to the kitchen...
Not gonna sugar coat this one fraus, this lot was EXPENSIVE. But it's Norway so it's normal to pay £15-£20 for a single meal. Plus I have plans for the rest of the celery, leek, carrots etc (and of course, the wine) so it's not a total waste. I do plan to actually eat this, no matter how disgusting it is, so I've halved the quantities as I'm only a smol pixie who doesn't have BBC presenters to entertain for, and I refuse to subject any of my actual friends to this.
Didn't save the receipt sos but off the top of my head these are approximate:
Oil, salt, pepper, soy sauce, breadcrumbs, sugar, garlic, onion - FREE cos I already had in
Coffee - 25Kr/£2.10
Chopped tomatoes - 10Kr/80p
BEANS (unrinsed) - 10Kr/80p
Pears - 30Kr/£2.50
Jackfruit - 40Kr/£3.40
Herbes de Provence (Jack asks for rosmary, thyme and basil but they're all in here innit? I usually hate dried herbs) - 35Kr/£3.00
Leek - 25Kr/£2.10
Carrots - 35Kr - £3.00
Celery - 25Kr - £2.10
Passive aggressive lemon - 7Kr - 55p
Veg stock - 25Kr - £2.10
Wine - 130Kr - £11 (this was the cheapest bottle in the shop but still...ouch)
TOTAL = 397Kr or £33 of your English pounds.
Now of course this is an outlier, and sadly I have no Asda to yomp to with my big rucksack for tear-inducing deals, but it's still a huge outlay for a dinner that is likely going to be tit. Of course, without the wine, it would almost be affordable, but this is still SPENNY. I guess if Groucho Club company is coming over, nothing is too good eh??
Part deux upcoming as it needs to cook for an entire HOUR (serves me right for not reading the recipe properly I guess). It's bubbling away right now, smelling alarming...
Meanwhile, I'm having a glass of wine
Good evening frauen. Tonight's slop will come to you in two parts. This is actually quite a labour intensive dish (Jack doing work whaaaat), although it features Jack being under INTENSE PRESSURE cos someone said her vegan food was beautiful (lol) but simultaneously not having prepared to host Countryfile presenter Tom Heap so it turns out she just cooks him any old wrinkled veg rolling around in her fridge
plus ca change, Jack, plus ca change...Of course Tom and the team wolf it down in a feverish dervish, completely amazed at how Jack had concocted such ambrosia from her weird little head. At one point Tom's eyebrows vanish into his hairline when Jack reveals she used the maverick ingredient of coffee, something that has literally never been put into a dish of food before. Personally I couldn't wait to check if my botox was still working so I scampered to the kitchen...
Not gonna sugar coat this one fraus, this lot was EXPENSIVE. But it's Norway so it's normal to pay £15-£20 for a single meal. Plus I have plans for the rest of the celery, leek, carrots etc (and of course, the wine) so it's not a total waste. I do plan to actually eat this, no matter how disgusting it is, so I've halved the quantities as I'm only a smol pixie who doesn't have BBC presenters to entertain for, and I refuse to subject any of my actual friends to this.
Didn't save the receipt sos but off the top of my head these are approximate:
Oil, salt, pepper, soy sauce, breadcrumbs, sugar, garlic, onion - FREE cos I already had in
Coffee - 25Kr/£2.10
Chopped tomatoes - 10Kr/80p
BEANS (unrinsed) - 10Kr/80p
Pears - 30Kr/£2.50
Jackfruit - 40Kr/£3.40
Herbes de Provence (Jack asks for rosmary, thyme and basil but they're all in here innit? I usually hate dried herbs) - 35Kr/£3.00
Leek - 25Kr/£2.10
Carrots - 35Kr - £3.00
Celery - 25Kr - £2.10
Passive aggressive lemon - 7Kr - 55p
Veg stock - 25Kr - £2.10
Wine - 130Kr - £11 (this was the cheapest bottle in the shop but still...ouch)
TOTAL = 397Kr or £33 of your English pounds.
Now of course this is an outlier, and sadly I have no Asda to yomp to with my big rucksack for tear-inducing deals, but it's still a huge outlay for a dinner that is likely going to be tit. Of course, without the wine, it would almost be affordable, but this is still SPENNY. I guess if Groucho Club company is coming over, nothing is too good eh??
Jack separates the ingredients into two sections, one for the 'duck', one for the 'cassoulet'. One might think that this means the 'duck' needs to marinade, seeing as jackfruit is very bland and needs to suck up flavours, but nope, Jack only says to make the 'duck' and then 'leave it in the fridge until it's needed', which I guess could be 30 minutes or 4 days if making a bean salad. Seeing as in her recipe preamble she states she makes this recipe in 2 hours, I'll use that as a guide.
Step 1. Make the marinade.
This is what seems to be a disproportionate amount of flavourless oil, a smol spoon of soy sauce, and then sugar and garlic. That's it. Oh, and the
KERAZY ingredient of coffee. My eyebrows are ready. But the recipe calls for half a teaspoon. And seeing as I'm halving the recipe, that's the measliest quarter teaspoon of coffee in the world - if there's any coffee flavour in this thing I'll shave my eyebrows off.
(P.S the peanotter are from my delicious pad thai the night before...god I wish I was having that for tea again)
It's smelling overwhelmingly of brown sugar at this point and nothing else. Even the garlic is overpowered by a sickly, pungent sweetness. And the coffee granules are just floating there, suspended in space and time, refusing to disintegrate in the cold oil. It ain't good...
Step 2. Open the jackfruit
Open the jackfruit...
Open the jackfruit...
I don't have a bleeping tin opener...
(look, I moved here with nothing OK. This flat has a chive cutter but no tin opener???)
I refuse to be defeated. I google 'how to open a tin with no tin opener'. Wikihow gives me several methods, one safe but long with a spoon, one fast but dangerous with a knife. I'm bleeping hungry. I'm furious. It's stabby time.
I'm stabbing the tin with the fire of a thousand suns. Jackfruit juice is going everywhere. My knife is small (it's the wee knife on a bottle opener) so it's hard going. Sweat beads on my forehead. With every stab I punctuate with a curse: duck YOU JACK. duck YOU JACK. duck YOU JACK. The sharp edge of the tin grazes my finger, luckily not enough to send blood spurting across the kitchen. The tin now has lots of holes in it but the bleeping thing still won't open. I start sawing at it with the knife.
Then...EVENTUALLY...
duck you Jack.
Step 3. Squeeze the jackfruit.
Jack tells me to squeeze the jackfruit really hard otherwise it will be sloppy () and won't take on the 'flavour' of the marinade. So I obediently squeeze. The jackfruit is slimy and, to be fair, quite a bit of juice comes out.
It now resembles a smoker's lung.
Step 4. Add the jackfruit to the marinade.
Done. Now duck off.
Step 1. Make the marinade.
This is what seems to be a disproportionate amount of flavourless oil, a smol spoon of soy sauce, and then sugar and garlic. That's it. Oh, and the
KERAZY ingredient of coffee. My eyebrows are ready. But the recipe calls for half a teaspoon. And seeing as I'm halving the recipe, that's the measliest quarter teaspoon of coffee in the world - if there's any coffee flavour in this thing I'll shave my eyebrows off.
(P.S the peanotter are from my delicious pad thai the night before...god I wish I was having that for tea again)It's smelling overwhelmingly of brown sugar at this point and nothing else. Even the garlic is overpowered by a sickly, pungent sweetness. And the coffee granules are just floating there, suspended in space and time, refusing to disintegrate in the cold oil. It ain't good...
Step 2. Open the jackfruit
Open the jackfruit...
Open the jackfruit...
I don't have a bleeping tin opener...
(look, I moved here with nothing OK. This flat has a chive cutter but no tin opener???)
I refuse to be defeated. I google 'how to open a tin with no tin opener'. Wikihow gives me several methods, one safe but long with a spoon, one fast but dangerous with a knife. I'm bleeping hungry. I'm furious. It's stabby time.
I'm stabbing the tin with the fire of a thousand suns. Jackfruit juice is going everywhere. My knife is small (it's the wee knife on a bottle opener) so it's hard going. Sweat beads on my forehead. With every stab I punctuate with a curse: duck YOU JACK. duck YOU JACK. duck YOU JACK. The sharp edge of the tin grazes my finger, luckily not enough to send blood spurting across the kitchen. The tin now has lots of holes in it but the bleeping thing still won't open. I start sawing at it with the knife.
Then...EVENTUALLY...
duck you Jack.
Step 3. Squeeze the jackfruit.
Jack tells me to squeeze the jackfruit really hard otherwise it will be sloppy (
) and won't take on the 'flavour' of the marinade. So I obediently squeeze. The jackfruit is slimy and, to be fair, quite a bit of juice comes out.It now resembles a smoker's lung.
Step 4. Add the jackfruit to the marinade.
Done. Now duck off.
Part deux upcoming as it needs to cook for an entire HOUR (serves me right for not reading the recipe properly I guess). It's bubbling away right now, smelling alarming...
Meanwhile, I'm having a glass of wine
@crystaleyesd you are back with a bang! but as someone who has permanent nerve damage in two fingers from a bastard tin my heart was racing like Countryfile presenter Tom Heaps’ probably was when he realised jack was cooking his dinner
My god. It's maybe just because I'm slightly allergic to jackfruit and associate it with pain already, but that shot of the drained jackfruit in the sieve made me retch a little. It looks so much like canned tuna that's gone mouldy, the way it shades to greenish-brown on the edges
...I salute your bravery, mon frere...or ma souer...and hope you enjoy your wine!
Ugh. I cannot bear the texture of jackfruit. It's like shredded fish sticks.CONFIT 'DUCK' AND PEAR CASSOULET PART UN (IT'S FRENCH YOU SEE)
Good evening frauen. Tonight's slop will come to you in two parts. This is actually quite a labour intensive dish (Jack doing work whaaaat), although it features Jack being under INTENSE PRESSURE cos someone said her vegan food was beautiful (lol) but simultaneously not having prepared to host Countryfile presenter Tom Heap so it turns out she just cooks him any old wrinkled veg rolling around in her fridge
Of course Tom and the team wolf it down in a feverish dervish, completely amazed at how Jack had concocted such ambrosia from her weird little head. At one point Tom's eyebrows vanish into his hairline when Jack reveals she used the maverick ingredient of coffee, something that has literally never been put into a dish of food before. Personally I couldn't wait to check if my botox was still working so I scampered to the kitchen...
View attachment 1752015
Not gonna sugar coat this one fraus, this lot was EXPENSIVE. But it's Norway so it's normal to pay £15-£20 for a single meal. Plus I have plans for the rest of the celery, leek, carrots etc (and of course, the wine) so it's not a total waste. I do plan to actually eat this, no matter how disgusting it is, so I've halved the quantities as I'm only a smol pixie who doesn't have BBC presenters to entertain for, and I refuse to subject any of my actual friends to this.
Didn't save the receipt sos but off the top of my head these are approximate:
Oil, salt, pepper, soy sauce, breadcrumbs, sugar, garlic, onion - FREE cos I already had in
Coffee - 25Kr/£2.10
Chopped tomatoes - 10Kr/80p
BEANS (unrinsed) - 10Kr/80p
Pears - 30Kr/£2.50
Jackfruit - 40Kr/£3.40
Herbes de Provence (Jack asks for rosmary, thyme and basil but they're all in here innit? I usually hate dried herbs) - 35Kr/£3.00
Leek - 25Kr/£2.10
Carrots - 35Kr - £3.00
Celery - 25Kr - £2.10
Passive aggressive lemon - 7Kr - 55p
Veg stock - 25Kr - £2.10
Wine - 130Kr - £11 (this was the cheapest bottle in the shop but still...ouch)
TOTAL = 397Kr or £33 of your English pounds.
Now of course this is an outlier, and sadly I have no Asda to yomp to with my big rucksack for tear-inducing deals, but it's still a huge outlay for a dinner that is likely going to be tit. Of course, without the wine, it would almost be affordable, but this is still SPENNY. I guess if Groucho Club company is coming over, nothing is too good eh??
Jack separates the ingredients into two sections, one for the 'duck', one for the 'cassoulet'. One might think that this means the 'duck' needs to marinade, seeing as jackfruit is very bland and needs to suck up flavours, but nope, Jack only says to make the 'duck' and then 'leave it in the fridge until it's needed', which I guess could be 30 minutes or 4 days if making a bean salad. Seeing as in her recipe preamble she states she makes this recipe in 2 hours, I'll use that as a guide.
Step 1. Make the marinade.
This is what seems to be a disproportionate amount of flavourless oil, a smol spoon of soy sauce, and then sugar and garlic. That's it. Oh, and the
View attachment 1752086
It's smelling overwhelmingly of brown sugar at this point and nothing else. Even the garlic is overpowered by a sickly, pungent sweetness. And the coffee granules are just floating there, suspended in space and time, refusing to disintegrate in the cold oil. It ain't good...
Step 2. Open the jackfruit
Open the jackfruit...
Open the jackfruit...
View attachment 1752123
I don't have a bleeping tin opener...
(look, I moved here with nothing OK. This flat has a chive cutter but no tin opener???)
I refuse to be defeated. I google 'how to open a tin with no tin opener'. Wikihow gives me several methods, one safe but long with a spoon, one fast but dangerous with a knife. I'm bleeping hungry. I'm furious. It's stabby time.
I'm stabbing the tin with the fire of a thousand suns. Jackfruit juice is going everywhere. My knife is small (it's the wee knife on a bottle opener) so it's hard going. Sweat beads on my forehead. With every stab I punctuate with a curse: duck YOU JACK. duck YOU JACK. duck YOU JACK. The sharp edge of the tin grazes my finger, luckily not enough to send blood spurting across the kitchen. The tin now has lots of holes in it but the bleeping thing still won't open. I start sawing at it with the knife.
Then...EVENTUALLY...
View attachment 1752146
duck you Jack.
Step 3. Squeeze the jackfruit.
Jack tells me to squeeze the jackfruit really hard otherwise it will be sloppy (
It now resembles a smoker's lung.
View attachment 1752147
Step 4. Add the jackfruit to the marinade.
View attachment 1752160
Done. Now duck off.
Part deux upcoming as it needs to cook for an entire HOUR (serves me right for not reading the recipe properly I guess). It's bubbling away right now, smelling alarming...
Meanwhile, I'm having a glass of wine
Ah dear @crystaleyesd my cat is grumpy at the honking and snorting and jumping about laughing I was doing at round 1. Truly on the hook for round deux 
welcome back!
welcome back!CONFIT 'DUCK' AND PEAR CASSOULET PART DEUX
It is now Post Slop and I feel strong enough to report back on the rest of the experience. Part un here.
I serve up a teeny weeny smol Jack portion. I'd mainlined a whole load of crisps while I was waiting for my slop so am no longer famished, but even if I hadn't my appetite drains away like bean juice down a plughole. Taking a deep breath, I bring the fork to my mouth...
Ingredients - N/A. Not sure it's fair to judge the cost of these ingredients given I live in a country famous for its high cost of living. The beans and veg would be quite cheap in the UK, and you'd likely stock things like soy sauce and tin toms. The wine is bleeping pointless though - it's a waste of good wine and actively makes the dish worse because she doesn't cook off the alcohol.
Visual appeal - 1/5. The 'finely sliced' stuff is far too big. Perhaps I misunderstood Jack's instructions, but she should make it clear this should be a fine dice. Given that they never melt into the sauce because there's no oil to sweat them in, they just remain as turgid lumps whilst the beans turn to mush, giving the whole thing an aura of a mudslide aftermath. Meanwhile, the dry breadcrumbs are like a snowstorm in june (and not a Jack snowstorm either) - they shouldn't bleeping be there.
Texture - 1/5. The jackfruit is the only saving grace in this (sorry frauen, I quite like it), but coated in the sauce it becomes claggy. The bean/veg 'cassoulet' is bleeping disgusting, with hidden but perceptible lumps throughout. The pears are slimy - perhaps if they'd been cooked into the sauce instead of 'folded' in at the end they might have had a chance, but nope. The breadcrumbs make me cough up a lung.
Taste - 1/5. Again, the jackfruit is actually OK. The sugar and oil caramelises in the hot frying pan and creates crispy bits, and there's actually some flavour. Then you're forced to ruin it by dumping it into slop. The cassoulet (how dare you besmirch its good name, Jack) is both tasteless and too acidic (thank duck I didn't add that lemon) from the wine and tomatoes, and the pears are just, well, they're bleeping pears so they're sweet! Dire.
Overall - 1/5. I wish I'd been a fly on the wall when a pampered Countryfile presenter had to choke this down and pretend to like it. Jack says she was sheepish about the recipe because she'd made it up on the fly and hadn't even had a chance to taste it before she served it up on national TV (sadly there is no evidence of this) - apparently this meal was enough to convince her this 'recipe' belonged in a cookbook and one can only assume she never cooked it again
I did eat it because it was my dinner. Unfortunately, despite halving the recipe, there's bleeping loads left. What's this? A Jack recipe with larger than average portions?? Just my luck
I'll be desperately attempting to add some depth of flavour before it becomes my sad lunch tomorrow in the form of some chanterelle stock and smoked paprika, but I suspect it simply cannot be saved. duck you, Jack.
It is now Post Slop and I feel strong enough to report back on the rest of the experience. Part un here.
Ok so we've got our 'duck' marinading in the fridge, now to tackle the cassoulet, which in Jackspeak means it has beans in it. Because of course it does. Let's slop to it.
Step 1. Make your 'base'
Jack's base is finely sliced onion, leek, celery and carrot. Now I'm no slop maven, but finely slicing is an odd term. Surely chopping a small dice would be more appropriate?? I try to slice the veggies as per the directions, but they end up much larger than I would normally chop them for a stew. Of course all these veggies get slung in a cold pan and the oil added later.
Jack's recipe stipulates a teaspoon of oil. And with my half recipe that means half a teaspoon of oil to cover a quite substantial amount of vegetables. It's sadder than the measly quarter tsp of coffee.
The veggies are still drier than the Gobi desert but Jack wants me to cook them on a medium heat for 10 minutes until they soften.
10 minutes later...
They look exactly the bleeping same
Step 2. The rinsing of the beans.
Funnily enough, Jack doesn't ask you to use baked beans here, but I end up buying them cos I can't find cannellini or haricot beans anywhere (Jack states they are interchangeable). Maybe Norwegians are secret bean rinsers?? I find I'm quite excited to take part in this ancient ritual.
Praise beans
Jack tells me to keep the liquid from the beans but I SHAN'T because I don't hate myself. The beans are added to the pan, along with the 'booze' (all alcohol is interchangeable) and the tomatoes. There is no cooking off of the wine, so the whole thing smells overwhelmingly of alcohol. I sprinkle in the herbs which add to the raw pungency, and then top off with the stock.
Sloptastic! But also bleeping raw. Jack's two favourite textures.
Step 3. Cook for an hour(!)
This is highly extravagant for Jack. But seriously, SOMETHING has to soften these veg. By now it's 7pm and I'm hungry. But I must wait for the magic to happen. Time to drink some wine then.
One extremely long hour later...
To be fair, things do look a lot more cooked now. But that acerbic raw smell from the wine and herbs lingers, somehow. There's about as much depth of flavour here as a dry cracker - I don't need to even taste it to tell. I've suddenly lost my appetite.
Step 4. Slice your pears and 'fold' them in.
I forget to do this. I've drunk too much wine on an empty stomach.
Step 5. Cook your jackfruit.
I'm hoping the jackfruit has absorbed some flavour after an hour in the fridge. And miraculously all that oil has disappeared
. Jack tells me to discard the leftover marinade, but there is none, so I dump it all in a hot frying pan. It sizzles and actually smells quite appetising...
As I'm frying all the oil the jackfruit has sucked up oozes out again. Despite this, it's the only bit of the dish with any structural integrity so I'm quite looking forward to trying it.
Jack once again asks me to 'fold' the jackfruit into the bean slop. I'm not sure this is necessary as this is not a cake - mixing it together will suffice.
Step 4 (again).
duck! I remember I forgot the pears!
Jack tells me she has no manners and drinks the juice from the tin. Well, when in Sloptown... (look away now @blurstoftimes whilst I put another appendage close to an open tin)
Pears are 'folded' into the slop. I decide a little video might be nice of these defenceless pears sliding to their doom.
(apols for my music on in the background - probably breaking all manner of copyright laws. Also this video will self destruct in 24 hours)
Step ???. Lemon.
This was supposed to go in somewhere.
Step 6. Sprinkle with breadcrumbs and POBP and SERVE.
duck, what have I done?
Step 1. Make your 'base'
Jack's base is finely sliced onion, leek, celery and carrot. Now I'm no slop maven, but finely slicing is an odd term. Surely chopping a small dice would be more appropriate?? I try to slice the veggies as per the directions, but they end up much larger than I would normally chop them for a stew. Of course all these veggies get slung in a cold pan and the oil added later.
Jack's recipe stipulates a teaspoon of oil. And with my half recipe that means half a teaspoon of oil to cover a quite substantial amount of vegetables. It's sadder than the measly quarter tsp of coffee.
The veggies are still drier than the Gobi desert but Jack wants me to cook them on a medium heat for 10 minutes until they soften.
10 minutes later...
They look exactly the bleeping same
Step 2. The rinsing of the beans.
Funnily enough, Jack doesn't ask you to use baked beans here, but I end up buying them cos I can't find cannellini or haricot beans anywhere (Jack states they are interchangeable). Maybe Norwegians are secret bean rinsers?? I find I'm quite excited to take part in this ancient ritual.
Praise beans
Jack tells me to keep the liquid from the beans but I SHAN'T because I don't hate myself. The beans are added to the pan, along with the 'booze' (all alcohol is interchangeable) and the tomatoes. There is no cooking off of the wine, so the whole thing smells overwhelmingly of alcohol. I sprinkle in the herbs which add to the raw pungency, and then top off with the stock.
Sloptastic! But also bleeping raw. Jack's two favourite textures.
Step 3. Cook for an hour(!)
This is highly extravagant for Jack. But seriously, SOMETHING has to soften these veg. By now it's 7pm and I'm hungry. But I must wait for the magic to happen. Time to drink some wine then.
One extremely long hour later...
To be fair, things do look a lot more cooked now. But that acerbic raw smell from the wine and herbs lingers, somehow. There's about as much depth of flavour here as a dry cracker - I don't need to even taste it to tell. I've suddenly lost my appetite.
Step 4. Slice your pears and 'fold' them in.
I forget to do this. I've drunk too much wine on an empty stomach.
Step 5. Cook your jackfruit.
I'm hoping the jackfruit has absorbed some flavour after an hour in the fridge. And miraculously all that oil has disappeared
. Jack tells me to discard the leftover marinade, but there is none, so I dump it all in a hot frying pan. It sizzles and actually smells quite appetising...
As I'm frying all the oil the jackfruit has sucked up oozes out again. Despite this, it's the only bit of the dish with any structural integrity so I'm quite looking forward to trying it.
Jack once again asks me to 'fold' the jackfruit into the bean slop. I'm not sure this is necessary as this is not a cake - mixing it together will suffice.
Step 4 (again).
duck! I remember I forgot the pears!
Jack tells me she has no manners and drinks the juice from the tin. Well, when in Sloptown... (look away now @blurstoftimes whilst I put another appendage close to an open tin)
Pears are 'folded' into the slop. I decide a little video might be nice of these defenceless pears sliding to their doom.
(apols for my music on in the background - probably breaking all manner of copyright laws. Also this video will self destruct in 24 hours)
Step ???. Lemon.
This was supposed to go in somewhere.
Step 6. Sprinkle with breadcrumbs and POBP and SERVE.
duck, what have I done?
I serve up a teeny weeny smol Jack portion. I'd mainlined a whole load of crisps while I was waiting for my slop so am no longer famished, but even if I hadn't my appetite drains away like bean juice down a plughole. Taking a deep breath, I bring the fork to my mouth...
Ingredients - N/A. Not sure it's fair to judge the cost of these ingredients given I live in a country famous for its high cost of living. The beans and veg would be quite cheap in the UK, and you'd likely stock things like soy sauce and tin toms. The wine is bleeping pointless though - it's a waste of good wine and actively makes the dish worse because she doesn't cook off the alcohol.
Visual appeal - 1/5. The 'finely sliced' stuff is far too big. Perhaps I misunderstood Jack's instructions, but she should make it clear this should be a fine dice. Given that they never melt into the sauce because there's no oil to sweat them in, they just remain as turgid lumps whilst the beans turn to mush, giving the whole thing an aura of a mudslide aftermath. Meanwhile, the dry breadcrumbs are like a snowstorm in june (and not a Jack snowstorm either) - they shouldn't bleeping be there.
Texture - 1/5. The jackfruit is the only saving grace in this (sorry frauen, I quite like it), but coated in the sauce it becomes claggy. The bean/veg 'cassoulet' is bleeping disgusting, with hidden but perceptible lumps throughout. The pears are slimy - perhaps if they'd been cooked into the sauce instead of 'folded' in at the end they might have had a chance, but nope. The breadcrumbs make me cough up a lung.
Taste - 1/5. Again, the jackfruit is actually OK. The sugar and oil caramelises in the hot frying pan and creates crispy bits, and there's actually some flavour. Then you're forced to ruin it by dumping it into slop. The cassoulet (how dare you besmirch its good name, Jack) is both tasteless and too acidic (thank duck I didn't add that lemon) from the wine and tomatoes, and the pears are just, well, they're bleeping pears so they're sweet! Dire.
Overall - 1/5. I wish I'd been a fly on the wall when a pampered Countryfile presenter had to choke this down and pretend to like it. Jack says she was sheepish about the recipe because she'd made it up on the fly and hadn't even had a chance to taste it before she served it up on national TV (sadly there is no evidence of this) - apparently this meal was enough to convince her this 'recipe' belonged in a cookbook and one can only assume she never cooked it again
I did eat it because it was my dinner. Unfortunately, despite halving the recipe, there's bleeping loads left. What's this? A Jack recipe with larger than average portions?? Just my luck
I'll be desperately attempting to add some depth of flavour before it becomes my sad lunch tomorrow in the form of some chanterelle stock and smoked paprika, but I suspect it simply cannot be saved. duck you, Jack.OMGCONFIT 'DUCK' AND PEAR CASSOULET PART UN (IT'S FRENCH YOU SEE)
Good evening frauen. Tonight's slop will come to you in two parts. This is actually quite a labour intensive dish (Jack doing work whaaaat), although it features Jack being under INTENSE PRESSURE cos someone said her vegan food was beautiful (lol) but simultaneously not having prepared to host Countryfile presenter Tom Heap so it turns out she just cooks him any old wrinkled veg rolling around in her fridge
Of course Tom and the team wolf it down in a feverish dervish, completely amazed at how Jack had concocted such ambrosia from her weird little head. At one point Tom's eyebrows vanish into his hairline when Jack reveals she used the maverick ingredient of coffee, something that has literally never been put into a dish of food before. Personally I couldn't wait to check if my botox was still working so I scampered to the kitchen...
View attachment 1752015
Not gonna sugar coat this one fraus, this lot was EXPENSIVE. But it's Norway so it's normal to pay £15-£20 for a single meal. Plus I have plans for the rest of the celery, leek, carrots etc (and of course, the wine) so it's not a total waste. I do plan to actually eat this, no matter how disgusting it is, so I've halved the quantities as I'm only a smol pixie who doesn't have BBC presenters to entertain for, and I refuse to subject any of my actual friends to this.
Didn't save the receipt sos but off the top of my head these are approximate:
Oil, salt, pepper, soy sauce, breadcrumbs, sugar, garlic, onion - FREE cos I already had in
Coffee - 25Kr/£2.10
Chopped tomatoes - 10Kr/80p
BEANS (unrinsed) - 10Kr/80p
Pears - 30Kr/£2.50
Jackfruit - 40Kr/£3.40
Herbes de Provence (Jack asks for rosmary, thyme and basil but they're all in here innit? I usually hate dried herbs) - 35Kr/£3.00
Leek - 25Kr/£2.10
Carrots - 35Kr - £3.00
Celery - 25Kr - £2.10
Passive aggressive lemon - 7Kr - 55p
Veg stock - 25Kr - £2.10
Wine - 130Kr - £11 (this was the cheapest bottle in the shop but still...ouch)
TOTAL = 397Kr or £33 of your English pounds.
Now of course this is an outlier, and sadly I have no Asda to yomp to with my big rucksack for tear-inducing deals, but it's still a huge outlay for a dinner that is likely going to be tit. Of course, without the wine, it would almost be affordable, but this is still SPENNY. I guess if Groucho Club company is coming over, nothing is too good eh??
Jack separates the ingredients into two sections, one for the 'duck', one for the 'cassoulet'. One might think that this means the 'duck' needs to marinade, seeing as jackfruit is very bland and needs to suck up flavours, but nope, Jack only says to make the 'duck' and then 'leave it in the fridge until it's needed', which I guess could be 30 minutes or 4 days if making a bean salad. Seeing as in her recipe preamble she states she makes this recipe in 2 hours, I'll use that as a guide.
Step 1. Make the marinade.
This is what seems to be a disproportionate amount of flavourless oil, a smol spoon of soy sauce, and then sugar and garlic. That's it. Oh, and the
View attachment 1752086
It's smelling overwhelmingly of brown sugar at this point and nothing else. Even the garlic is overpowered by a sickly, pungent sweetness. And the coffee granules are just floating there, suspended in space and time, refusing to disintegrate in the cold oil. It ain't good...
Step 2. Open the jackfruit
Open the jackfruit...
Open the jackfruit...
View attachment 1752123
I don't have a bleeping tin opener...
(look, I moved here with nothing OK. This flat has a chive cutter but no tin opener???)
I refuse to be defeated. I google 'how to open a tin with no tin opener'. Wikihow gives me several methods, one safe but long with a spoon, one fast but dangerous with a knife. I'm bleeping hungry. I'm furious. It's stabby time.
I'm stabbing the tin with the fire of a thousand suns. Jackfruit juice is going everywhere. My knife is small (it's the wee knife on a bottle opener) so it's hard going. Sweat beads on my forehead. With every stab I punctuate with a curse: duck YOU JACK. duck YOU JACK. duck YOU JACK. The sharp edge of the tin grazes my finger, luckily not enough to send blood spurting across the kitchen. The tin now has lots of holes in it but the bleeping thing still won't open. I start sawing at it with the knife.
Then...EVENTUALLY...
View attachment 1752146
duck you Jack.
Step 3. Squeeze the jackfruit.
Jack tells me to squeeze the jackfruit really hard otherwise it will be sloppy (
It now resembles a smoker's lung.
View attachment 1752147
Step 4. Add the jackfruit to the marinade.
View attachment 1752160
Done. Now duck off.
Part deux upcoming as it needs to cook for an entire HOUR (serves me right for not reading the recipe properly I guess). It's bubbling away right now, smelling alarming...
Meanwhile, I'm having a glass of wine
Well done on taking one for the team! That looks like one of Jack's worst slops yet.CONFIT 'DUCK' AND PEAR CASSOULET PART DEUX
It is now Post Slop and I feel strong enough to report back on the rest of the experience. Part un here.
Ok so we've got our 'duck' marinading in the fridge, now to tackle the cassoulet, which in Jackspeak means it has beans in it. Because of course it does. Let's slop to it.
Step 1. Make your 'base'
Jack's base is finely sliced onion, leek, celery and carrot. Now I'm no slop maven, but finely slicing is an odd term. Surely chopping a small dice would be more appropriate?? I try to slice the veggies as per the directions, but they end up much larger than I would normally chop them for a stew. Of course all these veggies get slung in a cold pan and the oil added later.
Jack's recipe stipulates a teaspoon of oil. And with my half recipe that means half a teaspoon of oil to cover a quite substantial amount of vegetables. It's sadder than the measly quarter tsp of coffee.
View attachment 1752360
The veggies are still drier than the Gobi desert but Jack wants me to cook them on a medium heat for 10 minutes until they soften.
10 minutes later...
View attachment 1752375
They look exactly the bleeping same
Step 2. The rinsing of the beans.
Funnily enough, Jack doesn't ask you to use baked beans here, but I end up buying them cos I can't find cannellini or haricot beans anywhere (Jack states they are interchangeable). Maybe Norwegians are secret bean rinsers?? I find I'm quite excited to take part in this ancient ritual.
View attachment 1752382
Praise beans
Jack tells me to keep the liquid from the beans but I SHAN'T because I don't hate myself. The beans are added to the pan, along with the 'booze' (all alcohol is interchangeable) and the tomatoes. There is no cooking off of the wine, so the whole thing smells overwhelmingly of alcohol. I sprinkle in the herbs which add to the raw pungency, and then top off with the stock.
View attachment 1752399
Sloptastic! But also bleeping raw. Jack's two favourite textures.
Step 3. Cook for an hour(!)
This is highly extravagant for Jack. But seriously, SOMETHING has to soften these veg. By now it's 7pm and I'm hungry. But I must wait for the magic to happen. Time to drink some wine then.
One extremely long hour later...
View attachment 1752412
To be fair, things do look a lot more cooked now. But that acerbic raw smell from the wine and herbs lingers, somehow. There's about as much depth of flavour here as a dry cracker - I don't need to even taste it to tell. I've suddenly lost my appetite.
Step 4. Slice your pears and 'fold' them in.
I forget to do this. I've drunk too much wine on an empty stomach.
Step 5. Cook your jackfruit.
I'm hoping the jackfruit has absorbed some flavour after an hour in the fridge. And miraculously all that oil has disappeared
View attachment 1752434
As I'm frying all the oil the jackfruit has sucked up oozes out again. Despite this, it's the only bit of the dish with any structural integrity so I'm quite looking forward to trying it.
Jack once again asks me to 'fold' the jackfruit into the bean slop. I'm not sure this is necessary as this is not a cake - mixing it together will suffice.
Step 4 (again).
duck! I remember I forgot the pears!
Jack tells me she has no manners and drinks the juice from the tin. Well, when in Sloptown... (look away now @blurstoftimes whilst I put another appendage close to an open tin)
View attachment 1752456
Pears are 'folded' into the slop. I decide a little video might be nice of these defenceless pears sliding to their doom.
(apols for my music on in the background - probably breaking all manner of copyright laws. Also this video will self destruct in 24 hours)
Step ???. Lemon.
View attachment 1752504
This was supposed to go in somewhere.
Step 6. Sprinkle with breadcrumbs and POBP and SERVE.
duck, what have I done?
View attachment 1752521
I serve up a teeny weeny smol Jack portion. I'd mainlined a whole load of crisps while I was waiting for my slop so am no longer famished, but even if I hadn't my appetite drains away like bean juice down a plughole. Taking a deep breath, I bring the fork to my mouth...
Ingredients - N/A. Not sure it's fair to judge the cost of these ingredients given I live in a country famous for its high cost of living. The beans and veg would be quite cheap in the UK, and you'd likely stock things like soy sauce and tin toms. The wine is bleeping pointless though - it's a waste of good wine and actively makes the dish worse because she doesn't cook off the alcohol.
Visual appeal - 1/5. The 'finely sliced' stuff is far too big. Perhaps I misunderstood Jack's instructions, but she should make it clear this should be a fine dice. Given that they never melt into the sauce because there's no oil to sweat them in, they just remain as turgid lumps whilst the beans turn to mush, giving the whole thing an aura of a mudslide aftermath. Meanwhile, the dry breadcrumbs are like a snowstorm in june (and not a Jack snowstorm either) - they shouldn't bleeping be there.
Texture - 1/5. The jackfruit is the only saving grace in this (sorry frauen, I quite like it), but coated in the sauce it becomes claggy. The bean/veg 'cassoulet' is bleeping disgusting, with hidden but perceptible lumps throughout. The pears are slimy - perhaps if they'd been cooked into the sauce instead of 'folded' in at the end they might have had a chance, but nope. The breadcrumbs make me cough up a lung.
Taste - 1/5. Again, the jackfruit is actually OK. The sugar and oil caramelises in the hot frying pan and creates crispy bits, and there's actually some flavour. Then you're forced to ruin it by dumping it into slop. The cassoulet (how dare you besmirch its good name, Jack) is both tasteless and too acidic (thank duck I didn't add that lemon) from the wine and tomatoes, and the pears are just, well, they're bleeping pears so they're sweet! Dire.
Overall - 1/5. I wish I'd been a fly on the wall when a pampered Countryfile presenter had to choke this down and pretend to like it. Jack says she was sheepish about the recipe because she'd made it up on the fly and hadn't even had a chance to taste it before she served it up on national TV (sadly there is no evidence of this) - apparently this meal was enough to convince her this 'recipe' belonged in a cookbook and one can only assume she never cooked it again
I did eat it because it was my dinner. Unfortunately, despite halving the recipe, there's bleeping loads left. What's this? A Jack recipe with larger than average portions?? Just my luck
If you have some melamine cutlery lying around, you could give the leftovers to the homeless? What's Norwegian for "thank you for all you do"?
BTW to anyone who owns a copy of Veganish, if you ever get really bored, could you tell us what % of the recipes feature jackfruit?
Smoked paprika can save many a thing, but I suspect it might have found its' match in this. Oh dear. You poor brave soul.
Again, I do not get why Jack never gets the reader to add a little pinch of sugar to these tomato-based recipes that involve cheap (and therefore very acidic) canned tomatoes and wine. Even a quarter teaspoon of sugar makes such a difference to a recipe, it doesn't make it sugary, it just mellows out the harshness of the other ingredients, especially when there's not much in the way of any fat to mellow it otherwise.
It's because she hates food.
She’s obsessed with “finely slicing” things. She must just think it sounds cheffy.CONFIT 'DUCK' AND PEAR CASSOULET PART DEUX
It is now Post Slop and I feel strong enough to report back on the rest of the experience. Part un here.
Ok so we've got our 'duck' marinading in the fridge, now to tackle the cassoulet, which in Jackspeak means it has beans in it. Because of course it does. Let's slop to it.
Step 1. Make your 'base'
Jack's base is finely sliced onion, leek, celery and carrot. Now I'm no slop maven, but finely slicing is an odd term. Surely chopping a small dice would be more appropriate?? I try to slice the veggies as per the directions, but they end up much larger than I would normally chop them for a stew. Of course all these veggies get slung in a cold pan and the oil added later.
Jack's recipe stipulates a teaspoon of oil. And with my half recipe that means half a teaspoon of oil to cover a quite substantial amount of vegetables. It's sadder than the measly quarter tsp of coffee.
View attachment 1752360
The veggies are still drier than the Gobi desert but Jack wants me to cook them on a medium heat for 10 minutes until they soften.
10 minutes later...
View attachment 1752375
They look exactly the bleeping same
Step 2. The rinsing of the beans.
Funnily enough, Jack doesn't ask you to use baked beans here, but I end up buying them cos I can't find cannellini or haricot beans anywhere (Jack states they are interchangeable). Maybe Norwegians are secret bean rinsers?? I find I'm quite excited to take part in this ancient ritual.
View attachment 1752382
Praise beans
Jack tells me to keep the liquid from the beans but I SHAN'T because I don't hate myself. The beans are added to the pan, along with the 'booze' (all alcohol is interchangeable) and the tomatoes. There is no cooking off of the wine, so the whole thing smells overwhelmingly of alcohol. I sprinkle in the herbs which add to the raw pungency, and then top off with the stock.
View attachment 1752399
Sloptastic! But also bleeping raw. Jack's two favourite textures.
Step 3. Cook for an hour(!)
This is highly extravagant for Jack. But seriously, SOMETHING has to soften these veg. By now it's 7pm and I'm hungry. But I must wait for the magic to happen. Time to drink some wine then.
One extremely long hour later...
View attachment 1752412
To be fair, things do look a lot more cooked now. But that acerbic raw smell from the wine and herbs lingers, somehow. There's about as much depth of flavour here as a dry cracker - I don't need to even taste it to tell. I've suddenly lost my appetite.
Step 4. Slice your pears and 'fold' them in.
I forget to do this. I've drunk too much wine on an empty stomach.
Step 5. Cook your jackfruit.
I'm hoping the jackfruit has absorbed some flavour after an hour in the fridge. And miraculously all that oil has disappeared
View attachment 1752434
As I'm frying all the oil the jackfruit has sucked up oozes out again. Despite this, it's the only bit of the dish with any structural integrity so I'm quite looking forward to trying it.
Jack once again asks me to 'fold' the jackfruit into the bean slop. I'm not sure this is necessary as this is not a cake - mixing it together will suffice.
Step 4 (again).
duck! I remember I forgot the pears!
Jack tells me she has no manners and drinks the juice from the tin. Well, when in Sloptown... (look away now @blurstoftimes whilst I put another appendage close to an open tin)
View attachment 1752456
Pears are 'folded' into the slop. I decide a little video might be nice of these defenceless pears sliding to their doom.
(apols for my music on in the background - probably breaking all manner of copyright laws. Also this video will self destruct in 24 hours)
Step ???. Lemon.
View attachment 1752504
This was supposed to go in somewhere.
Step 6. Sprinkle with breadcrumbs and POBP and SERVE.
duck, what have I done?
View attachment 1752521
I serve up a teeny weeny smol Jack portion. I'd mainlined a whole load of crisps while I was waiting for my slop so am no longer famished, but even if I hadn't my appetite drains away like bean juice down a plughole. Taking a deep breath, I bring the fork to my mouth...
Ingredients - N/A. Not sure it's fair to judge the cost of these ingredients given I live in a country famous for its high cost of living. The beans and veg would be quite cheap in the UK, and you'd likely stock things like soy sauce and tin toms. The wine is bleeping pointless though - it's a waste of good wine and actively makes the dish worse because she doesn't cook off the alcohol.
Visual appeal - 1/5. The 'finely sliced' stuff is far too big. Perhaps I misunderstood Jack's instructions, but she should make it clear this should be a fine dice. Given that they never melt into the sauce because there's no oil to sweat them in, they just remain as turgid lumps whilst the beans turn to mush, giving the whole thing an aura of a mudslide aftermath. Meanwhile, the dry breadcrumbs are like a snowstorm in june (and not a Jack snowstorm either) - they shouldn't bleeping be there.
Texture - 1/5. The jackfruit is the only saving grace in this (sorry frauen, I quite like it), but coated in the sauce it becomes claggy. The bean/veg 'cassoulet' is bleeping disgusting, with hidden but perceptible lumps throughout. The pears are slimy - perhaps if they'd been cooked into the sauce instead of 'folded' in at the end they might have had a chance, but nope. The breadcrumbs make me cough up a lung.
Taste - 1/5. Again, the jackfruit is actually OK. The sugar and oil caramelises in the hot frying pan and creates crispy bits, and there's actually some flavour. Then you're forced to ruin it by dumping it into slop. The cassoulet (how dare you besmirch its good name, Jack) is both tasteless and too acidic (thank duck I didn't add that lemon) from the wine and tomatoes, and the pears are just, well, they're bleeping pears so they're sweet! Dire.
Overall - 1/5. I wish I'd been a fly on the wall when a pampered Countryfile presenter had to choke this down and pretend to like it. Jack says she was sheepish about the recipe because she'd made it up on the fly and hadn't even had a chance to taste it before she served it up on national TV (sadly there is no evidence of this) - apparently this meal was enough to convince her this 'recipe' belonged in a cookbook and one can only assume she never cooked it again
I did eat it because it was my dinner. Unfortunately, despite halving the recipe, there's bleeping loads left. What's this? A Jack recipe with larger than average portions?? Just my luck
Chapeau on some well slopped ingredients. Unsurprising that it was Not Good.
Unrelated but my fave bit of French trivia (inspired by your beautiful numbering): in France, Jaws was called Les Dents de la Mer (Teeth of the Sea), but when Jaws 2 came out they hit a snag because Les Dents de la Mer Deux sounds like Les Dents de la Merde (Teeth of the tit), so they had to call it Les Dents de la Mer Deuxieme Partie. Makes me lol every time I think of it.
The recipes with Jackfruit in Veganish are as follows
Breakfast burritos
The Jack Reuben
BBQ jackfruit buns
Chickpea Caesar salad
Chilli non carne
Osso Jacco
Confit "duck" and pears cassoulet
Fake bake
Crispy chow mein
Pork belly
Thats 344% cos big maths and pythagorous theory
The Chickpea Caesar Salad sounds bloody terrifying, just from those words and the knowledge it contains jackfruit.
Now now surely she deserves some praise for not giving them all a Jackified name. You know she was dying to. Could have been chilli non jack, confit 'jack', fake jack, mock jack...