Music Played12 items
The Jam Start!
Sound Affects, Polydor, 12
Fleetwood Mac Second Hand News
Fleetwood Mac - Rumours, Warner Bros, 5
Sam Lee The Ballad of George Collins
Ground of its Own, The Nest Collective, 1
Don Henley Dirty Laundry
(Single), Asylum, 1
Jeff Lynne Mercy Mercy
Long Wave, Frontiers Records, 4
Billy Joel It's Still Rock & Roll To Me
Billy Joel - Greatest Hits Vol.2, CBS
The Beatles A Day In The Life
The Beatles : 1967-1970, Apple, 6
Prince Rock And Roll Love Affair
(CD Single), NPG Records
Thin Lizzy Don't Believe A Word
The Very Best Of, Vertigo
The Overtones Higher
Higher, Warner Bros, 3
Hal Ketchum Small Town Saturday Night
Hal Ketchum - The Hits, The Hit Label Ltd
Nigel's Baked Camembert with Wine Jelly
By Christine Vidal from www.madeinprovence.co.uk
Prep time less than 10 mins
Cooking time 15 mins
1 Camembert (in a wooden box)
2 garlic cloves (peeled and sliced)
A few sprigs of fresh thyme
A pinch of Herbes de Provence
1 tablespoon of Calvados (or white wine)
Baguette (a day old is ideal)
100g Red Wine Jelly (Nigel used ‘Cotes de Ventoux’ jelly from Made in Provence)
Carrots & celery batons
(Nigel also served sliced apples for the kids)
1. Preheat oven to 200C.
2. Remove the Camembert from its packaging & put back in the wooden box.
3. Place on a baking sheet.
4. Pierce the top of the Camembert using a fork, then poke the garlic & thyme into the top of the cheese.
5. Drizzle the Calvados & add a pinch of Herbes de Provence.
6. Bake for approximately 10-15 mins until runny inside.
For the Crostinis:
1. Slice a baguette thinly (a day old French stick is ideal). drizzle each slice with olive oil & bake on a hot baking tray for approximately 10 mins on each side or until golden brown.
2. Serve the Camembert with the wine jelly, warm crostinis & vegetable batons.
NIGEL'S TOP TIPS
• This dish is also good served with some walnuts.
• Unripe Camembert should not be refrigerated, as this will disrupt the maturing process. Keep it in a cool place for a few days before eating.
Confession: Common as Muck
Simon, I am a bad man.
This episode took place forty four years ago, I had to use a calculator to find this out. I was nineteen years old and had joined the British Army, I was sent off to Germany where I became a member of the B.A.O.R, the British Army Of the Rhine. In short I was a Cold War Warrior engaged in holding back the Russian hordes with the aid of lots of beer and bratwursts.
I was a member of a well-known Cavalry Regiment, we were equipped with Chieftain tanks, 60 ton monsters that rattled out your fillings. The Powers That Be decided that to try and keep us interested and on the straight and narrow a group of us would be sent on an exercise called Adventure Training. This would consist of travelling down to Bavaria in Southern Germany and doing things like mountain climbing, drinking beer, sailing, drinking beer, canoeing, drinking beer, I'm sure you get the picture.
We set off in our three ton trucks and arrived some several hours later at a place called Seeshaupt, it is beautiful! Mountains, a lake, green fields, sunshine and a lovely gas tube supplying beer on the lake shore. Heaven. However, there appeared a fly in the ointment, a pimple on the fair face of fortune. The fly, pimple, call it what you will came in the form of a very unpopular officer. The man was a a stickler for the unreasonable, a pernickety nit-picker of the first order. In short a pain.
As is the way, the first duty on arrival was the digging and erection of the latrines. A trench was dug and then hessian screens were erected to afford some sort of privacy. Our officer wasn't too happy with this arrangement and had it all altered so that was one latrine for 'the men' and one for 'the officers', there being only one officer, him. Now these officers must be nobler and function differently to us more proletarian squaddies. Clearly he didn't want to be anywhere near our more basic functions, can't blame him for that I suppose but the extra work rankled a bit especially as he was a shouty type of man who would have us running around doing menial and pointless tasks.
Now it became obvious over the days that this officer was a man of 'routine'. Every morning, before breakfast, he would grump and humpf his way across the camping field, from his tent to the latrine (Officers for the use of). He would cross the field in his silk pyjamas and silk dressing gown, a copy of the Times under his arm (how he managed a copy of the Times I have no idea but it seemed to be a fixture). He was oblivious to the sideways looks and growls from the lads.
Now squaddies are simple souls, keep them happy and they are no problem, if they are bored or if you upset them, they will get mischievous. It was decided that it would be a good idea to discomfit this officer and a plan was hatched.
The following morning the officer took his usual walk and went into the hessian shed, sat down and started to read. We were all standing around giggling like schoolgirls when someone produced a Thunderflash. These are large pyrotechnics are used to simulate grenade explosions under controlled circumstances. I don't know how it happened but the Thunderflash appeared in my hand and after several pushes from behind, I was propelled towards the officer’s latrine.
In the words of Oscar Wilde, I can resist anything except temptation. I lit the seven second fuse, lifted the edge of the hessian and dropped it into the trench below the seated officer. I then took to my heels and made like Usain Bolt. A discussion then started between the lads, things like “you didn't light it properly” or “it must be a dud.”
I have since learnt that Albert Einstein reckoned that some seconds last longer than others, in this case I agree with him! There was a large bang, and the hessian side of the latrine expanded instantly. The rooks sitting in the trees took off and made for safety. We all stood open-mouthed as the officer came out of the latrine, now transformed into something like a grizzly bear in pyjamas. Thankfully he was uninjured, however there wasn't an inch of the officer that wasn’t covered. As he stood shouting the posh toilet folded in on itself and collapsed once and for all. A cheer went up from the squaddies. A scream of "you ********" went up from the officer.
So now we come to the forgiveness bit. To be honest, I am not feeling one bit guilty, the officer was and I understand, still is a plank. I married a wonderful girl who became an ordained priest and she forgave me years ago for being a complete idiot, she is very forbearing. I thought I would just mention this because you never know who listens to your program and it might prod a few ancient memories and bring a wry smile to the faces of some old Cold War Warriors.
Thank you for your programme and for the opportunity of telling my tale.
Best regards, GJB