(tucked away behind a clickthrough because of copious pictures)

You start with, predictably, Skittles and vodka. Plus, some water bottles and some funnels.

We used two litres of Vodka (Russian Standard, as it was on offer in Asda) and 800g of Skittles. We also needed bottles to hold the mixture; we bought a six-pack of 750ml water bottles for that.

First, separate the Skittles. This is tedious, but satisfying for any deep seated OCD urges you may have.

Pour the Skittles into the (emptied) water bottles and add the vodka.

Obviously, split the vodka between the bottles evenly. If you follow the proportions I’m outlining here, you’ll be adding 400ml of vodka to about 200ml of Skittles — note that a 500ml water bottle won’t be big enough.

With that done, it’s time to shake.

Quite quickly, you will find that the colouring on the outside of the Skittles dissolves in the vodka, leaving the white inner bits, which are mostly sugar and hydrogenated vegetable fat. We’ll get to that in a moment.

Try to do a better job of evening out the vodka than we did.

Now, you play the waiting game. You need to wait for all the sugar to dissolve into the vodka and all the fat to break up into tiny floating pieces, which is even more disgusting that it sounds. This took about 24 hours for us.

Once the Skittles are totally dissolved, you need the components for the next stage: filter paper and some sort of permanent bottle for storage. We went for 450ml bottles of Grolsch, as they were a convenient size and had those snazzy resealable lids.

Get more funnels too. You need several.

The basic idea is to filter the vodka/fat/sugar/flavouring mix through the coffee filter paper, removing the fat and leaving behind tasty goodness. Like this:

I told you it was pretty disgusting, didn't I?

General wisdom on the Internet is that you pass the mixture through several layers of coffee paper. General Internet wisdom is wrong (shock!), and here’s why.

Reason one: the papers are too fine

They are too fine because they clog too easily. In that picture there, we boldly poured most of the mixture in at once; within seconds, the trickle of filtrate emerging from the funnel had slowed to a drip, and then a slow drip, and then a really slow drip. We quickly found that a given filter paper is only good for about 100-200 ml of mixture, at the most, before it’s almost hopelessly blocked.

Reason two: the papers are too coarse

At least for us, the filtrate was not entirely clear. This would suggest there is some trace amounts of fat left in the mixture, although it wasn’t enough to form any sort of layer on top of the liquid. We decided to ignore this.

Reason three: multiple passes through identical filter papers don’t do anything

Think about it. Each filter paper has holes in of (roughly) the same size. What is the second, third, or fourth pass through holes of the same size supposed to do? I can even prove it with pictures. The liquids in the following pictures are the green (lime) flavour after one, two, and three passes through filter paper. Note that they are all of the same level of clarity.

What you should do — and what we will do next time — is get a selection of filter papers from a chemistry supplier of different granularities, then do multiple passes through finer and finer papers. This should solve both the excessive clogging and residual cloudiness issues.

Note, by the way, that every single item and surface within twenty feet of where you are working will get hopelessly sticky from doing this. Any tiny amount of spillage of the material results in a sugary glue-like substance within minutes as the vodka quickly evaporates away.

Filtering will take you much longer than you think because of the paper clogging. It took me several evenings to get it all finished, even doing several levels of the filtering in parallel. You can make the time go faster by disposing of the Grolsch.

You don't need this stuff. Get rid of it.

One final note on filtration; some stuff came up and I had to leave the orange flavour until a few days later. Perhaps because of the excessive wait, the orange dye became chemically bound to the fat. When I filtered it, I ended up with an almost completely clear liquid again.

The sugar and flavouring were present and correct, however, so this is just a cosmetic issue. Some orange food colouring would solve it.

So, with all the vodka filtered and bottled, it only remained to chill the bottles (in the freezer, of course), and try it out.

Note the liquids are quite cloudy here -- they became clearer as they warmed. I think the -20 degC serving temperature means the vodka cannot hold all the sugar in solution.

How do they taste, you may be wondering? The rather blasé answer is “just like Skittles”. Which is to say, firstly, the taste of the individual Skittle sweets comes through a lot stronger than you might think, and that the (very strong, of course) alcohol is better masked than you might think. The overall effect is rather like schnapps turned up to 11.

The nicest flavors were probably the orange and strawberry ones. Next were the blackcurrant and lemon ones; the least successful was the lime, which came across a bit like Apple Sourz (a drink I despise; fortunately the Skittles vodka is less pungently sour). They are all drinkable but I must admit they are essentially a novelty — they are so strong and sweet in flavour that it’s hard to drink them to excess. They also don’t mix very well (although the orange flavour was delicious mixed with pineapple juice), so they have to be drunk neat, which might put some people off.

The upshot is that the two litres I have here will probably last me for quite a while. Nevertheless, they are an amusing novelty that I’m sure will make a positive contribution to my guests’ inebriation levels.

What is supposed to happen is the chilli paste sinks down into the jar and a layer of clear vinegar forms on top, which you skim off. This vinegar will contain a good chunk of the capsaicin from the chillis in it (this is the chemical which gives chillis their hot flavour), which calms the sauce down. Except I have no vinegar layer, for whatever reason. So I have an entire jar of very potent, rather sour sauce.

Not that it’s unpleasant — it’s rather tasty, in fact, I just ate a teaspoon of it — but it’s probably not all that useful as a table sauce. I might freeze most of it in ice cube trays and use it as an additive to curries and suchlike. The original recipe says this will keep for months in the fridge but even so I’m not sure I’d get through it all.

Started on Saturday afternoon when my friend Scott came around. As we were making a curry for tea, I followed his advice and made up a batch of his curry base sauce. He’s taken and modified a number of recipes from a currymaking forum (I can’t remember the name, unfortunately); they are aimed at reproducing, not authentic Indian cuisine, but rather “authentic” takeaway curry. As such, most of the recipes start with a generic base sauce you make in large quantity in advance and typically freeze in small portions. The recipe for this:

700g cooking onions, chopped into 8 pieces
4 large garlic cloves, roughly chopped
15g of fresh ginger root, roughly sliced
1 red (or green) pepper, cut into 16 pieces
120g salad potatoes, peeled and halved
120g carrot, sliced (2-3 carrots)
1 large tomato, quartered
20g coriander stems, finely chopped
200ml vegetable oil
1500ml water
1 tbsp salt

2 tsp cumin powder
1.5 tsp coriander powder
1 tsp turmeric
1 tsp chilli powder
1 tsp Kashmiri mirch (MDH) (or paprika as an alternative)
1 tsp Madras powder (Rajah)
0.5 tsp fenugreek powder

1. Boil all ingredients in a pan, covered, for 45 minutes.
2. Add one (400g) tin of chopped tomatoes and a further 500ml of water.
3. Liquidise thoroughly.
4. Simmer rapidly for a further 30 minutes to reduce volume to around half; you are aiming for 2.65 litres in volume (a depth of 7cm in a 22cm soup pan; go go pi-r-squared).

It looks like this before reduction:

Note the use of vegetable oil, rather than the more traditional ghee. I’m going to try a smaller batch with ghee; Scott thinks it would be too rich. He could well be right.

Then we got drunk and played the drums:

Growing hungry, we decided to make a curry we could actually eat, rather than a vat of generic sauce which, whilst tasty, wasn’t particularly satisfying on its own. For this we followed a pathia recipe of Scott’s own devising:

600g of lamb steaks, diced and pre-fried in one ladle of base sauce and some oil

3 ladles of base sauce
1 onion, finely diced
2 tbs red wine vinegar
1 tbs brown sugar
½ a lemon, cut into wedges
2 plum tomatoes, cut into wedges
Fresh coriander (to taste, as much or as little as you like)
3 tbs vegetable oil
1 tsp mustard seeds

Make a paste of the following ingredients in a blender:
3 fresh or 4 dried red chillies
4 garlic cloves
2 tsp coriander
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp cinnamon
½ tsp turmeric
½ tsp chilli powder

1. Warm base sauce through.
2. Heat oil and fry onion until golden.
3. Add the mustard seeds to the pan and wait for them to pop, then add the paste,  fry for a few minutes. Add red wine vinegar (and stand back from fumes!)
4. Turn up the heat and add 1 ladle of base sauce to the pan and allow it to boil.
5. Add the brown sugar and lemon and a second ladle of base sauce to the pan, keeping the heat up and the contents of the pan moving. Bring back to the boil.
6. Add the pre-cooked lamb. Add a ladle of water if needed to stop the sauce sticking, but make sure it’s hot before moving on.
7. Add the third ladle of base sauce to the pan along with the tomatoes and cook for a few minutes.
8. Keep the pan on the hob, cooking through until you get your preferred consistency.
9. Just before removing from the heat, stir through the chopped coriander.

We served this with this pilau rice recipe — which requires timing just a fraction too precise to tackle after half a bottle of Rioja and a few rum’n'cokes. Sorry, guys who ate my overcooked rice.

Here’s the final dish:

The curry there has too much lemon in; being of a “chuck it in” mentality by this point we put the entire lemon in, but it came out just a little too sour. Temperature was just right though, the perfect pathia being (in my opinion) slightly too hot to eat comfortably but so tasty you can’t stop either.

Then we played more drums:

Sunday, following a cooked breakfast, Scott went home and I made a roast dinner with Toby. Whilst waiting for the chicken to roast we thought we’d make some chilli sauce to this recipe:

1. Place chillis in blender
2. Add enough vinegar (the colourless stuff, distilled malt vinegar)
3. Add handful of salt
4. (Optional) add tomato puree, garlic, sugar, and/or anything else
5. Blend, transfer to saucepan
6. Bring to boil for 10 minutes
7. Transfer to a jar and leave covered with a cloth (but with the lid off) for a week
8. Skim the vinegar from the top of the mix and refrigerate

This is what it looked like before blending:

The stuff is… whatever you call it. Not fermenting. Resting perhaps? Anyway, it’s resting now, but I can confirm it’s pretty damned hot (there were a number of bird’s eye chillis in there, so that’s unsurprising).

1. soak 275ml of Basmati rice for 1/2 hr in a few changes of water (Delia says this is not necessary)
2. grind 2 cardamon pods, 3/4 tsp cumin seeds, 1/2tsp coriander seeds
3. using a large frying pan with a lid, toast the spices for 1 min over a high heat
4. reduce heat, add 1tbsp groundnut oil and one small finely chopped onion, fry for 3 min
5. add rice to pan and toss to cover the rice in the oil
6. add one pint of boiling water with one chicken stock cube dissolved in it (supposed to make 3/4 of a pint, so it’s weak stock)
7. add one bay leaf and a 1 inch piece of cinnamon stick
8. stir the rice just once, gently
9. put the lid on (I wrapped it in a teatowel for a tight fit) and put on your smallest hob on the lowest heat
10. after 15 min, all the liquid was absorbed (40min for brown rice says Delia)
11. it’ll keep with the lid on like that for a while
12. before serving, fluff the grains with a fork

Delia says this serves “four to six”. I say it serves three, maybe four, because I am fat. It could probably use some saffron or yellow food colouring for cosmetic purposes, but it tasted very nice. Compared to what I did in the past, using a broad frying pan and not stirring it were probably the reasons this came out better.

Essentially: make caramel, fry bacon until crisp, mix into liquid caramel with some roasted almonds, and leave to set. The question of “why would you do this” I leave to a higher power.

(Thanks to Craig for the link, who has no blog for me to link to.)

• two pounds of bacon, woven
• two pounds of sausage meat
• wrap bacon around sausage meat, roll into a sausage
• roast
• roll out a large sheet of croissant dough
• cover in scrambled egg
• cover in cheese
• place the bacon/meat… thing… in the center of the dough and roll up
• cook

The unholy result is the Bacon Wellington:

Edit from two hours later — god, this is making my hungry. This is the first one of these “stupid bacon creations” I’ve considered making. It’s the delicious looking croissant dough that keeps drawing me back.

Meanwhile, at almost the same minute, my spooky opinion twin Rodafowa queried my bacon obsession. I replied to him:

I’m not as obsessed with bacon as my blog suggests. I quite like eating it but I’ve never felt the need to weave it. My audience, however, is obsessed – my bacon posts get the most comments, and bacon related topics get emailed to me now. I have no idea what that’s all about, but I’m not knocking the hits!

and he came back with:

That’s awesome. And as the years go by it’ll inevitably snowball, each link you’re sent leading to a bacon-related post that convinces more people that bacon is the primary driving force in your life and inevitably causing even more links to be sent to you. Soon each time you look in your inbox there’ll be a dozen new items related to every possible aspect and permutation of sliced schweinfleish until you’re so heartily soul-sick of the stuff you never want to so much as lay eyes on a Frazzle again. But by this point it’s taken on a life of its own. People have been relating amused anecdotes to friends about the Internet’s Bacon-Lover, and despite your pleading you’re now subjected to a relentless bombardment of bacon-related stories from every corner of the world. Because you’re the Bacon Man now. You can’t turn on the TV for fear of catching a Walls advert or soap-opera fry-up that’ll leave you howling at the screen and tearing at your hair. You can’t go work because every potential employer is scared off by the growing madness in your eyes and the stories of your life-consuming bacon obsession. You definitely can’t go near the Internet.

Eventually, it all becomes too much, your mind snaps under the strain and you’re eventually shot by counter-terrorist police trying to blow up Denmark. The headline the next morning reads “MISTER BACON DIES”.

So, there you go, my epitaph is all wrapped up already. Which is convenient I suppose.

So: coarsely chop red onions, sautee in a ovenproof pot over a low heat. When softened, add some garlic (lazy garlic in jar for me), stir, and add a pack of sausages; preferably some robustly flavoured ones. Fry for ten minutes or so to cook the sausages. Add a tin of baked beans (yes, baked beans, I like baked beans), some tomato ketchup, and random dollops of stuff from your sauce cupboard (tonight that was Reggae Reggae sauce and tobasco). Put in oven for 45 min or so. Meanwhile, peel potatoes, boil until soft, mash with plenty of butter, some cream, English mustard powder, and Dijon mustard.

Done!

Basically, it’s a bacon weave, covered with a layer of sausagemeat, coated in BBQ rub, filled with a layer of cooked bacon, covered in BBQ sauce, rolled into a sausage shape and hot smoked for a few hours, then finally coated in more sauce. The result: