Sometimes I use this blog to vent, sometimes to share, but this time I’m using it to save this recipe for myself for a future date (and a little sharing).
Welsh Rarebit Recipe
from: The Guardian
(Note: This is using metric measurements, now I need to convert them!)
1 tsp English mustard powder
3 Tbsp stout
30g butter (or about 6 tsp or 2 Tbsp)
Worcestershire sauce, to taste
175g Lancashire cheese, grated (or about 3/4 cup)
2 egg yolks
2 slices bread
1. Mix the mustard powder with a little stout in the bottom of a small pan to make a paste, then stir in the rest of the stout and add the butter and about 1 tsp Worcestershire sauce – you can always add more later if you like. Heat gently until the butter has melted.
2. Tip in the cheese and stir to melt, but do not let the mixture boil. Once smooth, taste for seasoning, then take off the heat and allow to cool until just slightly warm, being careful it doesn’t solidify.
3. Pre-heat the grill to medium-high, and toast the bread on both sides. Beat the yolks into the warm cheese until smooth, and then spoon onto the toast and cook until bubbling and golden. Serve immediately.
I now have a huge craving for Welsh Rarebit – or as some call it, Welsh Rabbit. I had this dish once in my life only, and I never forgot it. I can’t believe I’ve never gone ahead and made it for myself.
I can’t eat a lot of cheese or it binds me up, but this deserves a special day or something.
I don’t have any “stout” either, and Paul is not likely to go up and buy me any – I AM a recovering alcoholic, after all. I would say “recovered” as it’s been since 1983 in April that I’ve let a drop of alcohol pass my lips… but heck, I’d make an exception for this, and anyway, doesn’t the alcohol “cook out” of it by the time it’s ready to eat?
I’ll go with that.
I think I could turn and live awhile with the animals…
They are so placid and self-contained,
I stand and look at them sometimes half the day long.
They do not sweat and whine about their condition,
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,
They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God,
Not one is dissatisfied… not one is demented with the mania of owning things,
Not one kneels to another nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago,
Not one is respectable or industrious over the whole earth.
~ [Walt Whitman, from “Leaves of Grass, No. 32”] ~