Besides watching Nannie Gwen make mince pies and helping her to roll out the pastry or wash the tops with milk before she put the neatly cut tops on, the first proper Christmas food I remember making on my own is yule log.
“Wash hands, line bin, put on apron”. They were always the first steps neatly listed in my flowchart. It was just the way that Mrs Stinchcombe – my high school food technology teacher – told us to write the method for making a recipe. Six rectangular boxes on an A4 page – one below the other with arrows between – meant that you could write the steps clearly, concisely and practically so that when it came to making whatever it was that week, you could easily follow what you’d written.
Mrs Stinchcombe would demonstrate one week, and you’d cook it the next. And you had to pay attention in order to fill in your flow chart. Her phrase as she was demonstrating at her teacher’s kitchen unit at the front of the classroom part of the kitchen was, “You’d better be watching, because you’ll have to do this next week”, catching unawares those looking away, playing the fool, or not filling in their flow chart properly. She had such a warmth and sense of humour, but didn’t pull her punches either, but then with 25 twelve-year-olds in a class she couldn’t afford to – she’d once lost an eyebrow trying to fix a gas hob after all. She had lots of catchphrases now that I think about it. One of my favourites was when creaming sugar and butter together, she’d say, “If your arm’s not aching, it’s not ready”. The ensuing conversation would play out like this:
“I think it’s ready now miss”
“Is your arm aching?”
“No, miss”
“Then it’s not ready”
We learned to make all sorts with Mrs Stinchcombe – from Bolognese to sponge – but yule log sticks in my brain. I think there is something about the miraculous flexibility of the Swiss roll, and then the delight of roughing up the chocolate icing with a fork to make it look more log-like. I can remember clearly making the yule log, even down to where I was standing in the food tech room. It’s weird how some things stick in your memory.
I remember taking my light butter-less tray of sponge out of the oven and turning out onto icing sugar-dusted baking paper with the tea towel underneath – it makes it easier to roll. Then I was about to roll, and Mrs Stinchcombe came over. “Stop. What’s on your flow chart?... Remember, you need to cut the edges to make it neat and score the end you’re going to roll from to make it easier to get a good first tight roll.”
I was heading to my Nanna Lena and Poppa’s house that day (must have been a Thursday) and everyone was eyeing up the chocolatey cake dusted with icing sugar – including the bus driver.
In all honesty, I’m not sure I’ve made one since. Perhaps it’s the year to give it go. Nadolig llawen from my Welsh Kitchen!
The Recipe
Leftover Christmas dinner croquettes
I first made these on a weekday after having had a Sunday roast, and they seem a great way of using up leftover bits and bobs from a Christmas dinner too. I haven’t included measurements for this recipe as it depends how much of everything you have leftover. Just remember that potatoes should be the main ingredient. If you don’t have potatoes left, then feel free to boil some up. I served mine with leftover gravy as a dip, but cranberry sauce or bread sauce would work a treat too.
Ingredients
Leftover cooked potatoes
Leftover cooked veg (sprouts, cauliflower etc)
Leftover cooked meat (turkey, lamb etc)
1 tbsp mint sauce (optional)
Flour
Eggs, lightly beaten
Breadcrumbs
Leftover meat fat (or butter or oil) for frying
Method
In a large mixing bowl, mash together the potatoes and veg. Break up the meat into small pieces and mix into the mash along with the mint sauce. You’re aiming for a solid mash that you can mould.
Take small handfuls of the mix and make them into small sausage shapes, and place on a baking tray lined with baking paper.
In three bowls, put the flour, beaten eggs, and breadcrumbs. Dredge the croquettes in flour, then egg, and finally cover in the breadcrumbs and place back on the tray until you’ve completed them all.
Preheat the oven to Gas Mark 4/180°C/350°F.
Heat the fat in a large frying pan. Gently fry the croquettes, turning frequently until the breadcrumbs turn golden brown. Transfer back to the baking tray until all are fried.
Place the tray in the oven and bake for around 15-20 minutes.
You could also deep fry these if you wanted to. Serve with cranberry or mint sauce, leftover gravy or a splodge of mustard.
If you try the recipe out, don’t forget to tag any photos with #mywelshkitchen.
The Playlist
To me, cooking and music go hand in hand, whether that’s singing at the top of your voice using a wooden spoon as a microphone while waiting for pasta to boil, or dancing around with the oven gloves on as the oven timer counts down. Here are this week’s ideas for your Welsh Kitchen playlist.
For this festive issue of the newsletter, we have the 16th Century Welsh folk song Nos Galan. You might recognise it as the carol Deck the Hall, but its true origin is Welsh. Allegedly, the ‘fa la la la la’ was all about a bit of hanky panky in the hay! Next up, we have Iesu Yw by Côr Glanaethwy, followed by Gwyl Y Baban by Côr Y Boro.
Nos Galan by Elin Manahan Thomas, The Cambridge Singers and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra
Iesu Yw by Côr Glanaethwy
Gwyl Y Baban by Côr Y Boro
And finally
I’ll let you in on a little secret about Santa.
From the archive
Know someone who loves Welsh food and culture? Gift them a paid subscription of the Welsh Kitchen.