plate 26: wales

Firstly, let me indulge in a little joy: I've now eaten my way halfway around the world - hurrah! Twenty-six plates devoured and 26 more to discover. Ah, that expression of delight felt good.

Secondly, I know "England, Ireland, Wales, Scotland" doesn't have the same ring to it, and I know I'm not one who usually breaks the rules, but time was limited this week. So to make things a little easier for myself I settled for cheese on toast. No ordinary cheese on toast. Welsh cheese on toast, AKA Welsh rabbit or rarebit depending on your school of writing. Cooking Welsh this week was not an ode to the birthplace of our new female prime minister, just a little coinkidink. Just in case you've been living under a rock, here she is.

I was excited about what our dinner of cheese on toast was to entail: stout cooked with double cream until thick, stirred into grated cheddar with hot English mustard and a splash of Worcestershire sauce, all smothered on Bourke St Bakery sourdough and grilled until bubbling. Sadly, though, I was a little underwhelmed. While I did enjoy the rich, intense taste, there were a few things that may have affected the flavour. (And it wasn't that I misunderstood the recipe like I have misunderstood Welsh people in the past - man those accents are crazy!)

One: we forgot to buy the cheese. For cheese on toast? Yes, for cheese on toast. I triple-checked the almost-bare fridge, opening and closing the door every few minutes in sheer bewilderment. I even checked the freezer and the pantry to see if we had mistakenly stored it in the wrong place. Nope, no cheese. So I tried to find a solution. Have you ever tried grating sliced cheese? No, me neither, and I don't recommend it - time consuming, messy and rather annoying. So the cheese mixture ended up being a mishmash of semi-grated semi-torn sliced vintage cheddar and the remainder of a shreeded pizza cheese packet.

Two: the stout and double cream mixture split and, it pains me to say it, resembled a brain as the oil from the cream swirled its way through the browning stout.

But I pressed on and the rarebit made it to the table. Dinner friends seemed to rather enjoy it, but I'd like to give it another go with the right cheese, which is apparently Welsh caerphilly - a semi-firm white, crumbly cheese - and the right-textured cream mixture. Apparently many Welsh folk keep a bowl of the cheese mixture in the fridge for a midnight snack. I suspect it'd be very good food after stumbling home from a big night out or when in need of curing a hangover. To see if it works, or just to see if you can make it better than me, try this recipe.

What I also wanted to make, but ran out of time, is Welsh fruit loaf: bara brith (said "barra breeth"). The ingredients for this I do have.

plate 25: ireland

This week I headed west from England, across the Irish Sea and over to the island of Ireland for potatoes, Guinness and whiskey. Given the Irish partiality to potatoes, I was thinking about doing a three-course potato meal, or an Irish smorgasbord as my dad called it: boiled potato, mashed potato, roasted potato and chips.

But I thought it best to serve some kind of meat with the meal, so rather than a potato degustation, I opted to serve beef & Guinness stew with champ, which sure is the champion of mashed potato. Now that I've sampled this smooth, incredibly creamy, unbelievably naughty mash (thanks to loads of butter and milk), I don't know how I'll go back to the regular version again. Speckled with Ireland's national colour - green - with shallot and chive - it tasted spectacular. I figured it was pretty good since D Rose (my mum) polished off two helpings and she doesn't even eat potatoes. To make it, just boil spuds in their skin, then peel when they're cool and mash. Boil some milk, add some shallots and add it to the mash with chopped chives and butter. Stir it all up until it melts. Mmmmmmm.

Sharing the plate with this potato masterpiece was a delicious heart-warming beef stew made with almost two big cans of Guinness, lots of onion, garlic, carrot and herbs. The Guinness gave an awesome bittersweet flavour to the meat, which was fantastically tender and juicy (I used blade steak) and the vegetables were cooked beautifully. Not only did the stew taste great, it was quick to cook: about 45 mins to an hour (including prep time), so you can make it midweek without having to wait until 10pm to eat.

Once everyone gobbled up their food, a little bit of sauce swam on our plates, and while I did contemplate picking up my plate and licking it all up, I thought it not so ladylike. So I gave everyone a spoon and we happily slurped up every last skerrick.

Dessert came in the form of Irish coffee, which I'd never had before. And I was pleasantly surprised. It was delicious, but strong: designated drivers beware. The addition of a jigger (60ml) of Irish whiskey to hot, freshly brewed coffee may tip you over the limit. I was a tad worried about D Rose who was driving home - she seemed a little tipsy after sipping her after-dinner drink. If you're wondering what the white stuff is at the top - it's whipped cream. Trust the Irish to put alcohol and cream in their dinner and their coffee! I'm certainly not complaining.

plate 24: england

It was a jolly-good fit that I hadn't planned this week. I decided at the start of Destination Degustation that I would, at some point in winter, do a four-week block of England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales. The weather became decidedly nippy this weekend, so it was perfect timing to start the UK culinary tour. That, and the fact that is was the Queen's birthday long weekend. I can't find any information to explain why the her birthday is celebrated in June when she was actually born in April (21st to be exact - for anyone out there who has a penchant for birthdays as I do), but having an extra day this weekend suited me fine.

My lovely English pal Sal gave me a recipe from Mark Hix's British Regional Food for a Lancashire Hotpot - apparently one of the best-known dishes in the north of the country. Mark explains that while there are variations, they all feature lamb chops, potatoes and onions. There used to be versions cooked with oysters, too, but that sounds a bit weird, no? I was tempted by other English dishes: Yorkshire pudding; and some with rather funny names: Toad in the Hole (sausages baked in batter); Bubble & Squeak (named for the noises this dish of leftover potatoes with cabbage makes while cooking); and Spotted Dick (dried fruit pudding served with custard).

The history lesson continues: the Lancashire hotpot is said to have been inspired out of necessity - to feed working families in a cold climate. Legend also has it that a Lancashire lass's hotpot-making prowess bode well for her marriage prospects. AJ: if you wanted to marry me before, let's hope my hotpot cemented your plan!

While there's a little prep involved - slicing onions, peeling and cutting potatoes, and dicing lamb - the cooking process is super easy. Layer it all in a pot and cook it for three hours. The pot I used was a tad small for the amount of ingredients I had, which caused a bit of spillage and setting off of a smoke alarm, but it was all worth it in the end. The flavours were simple, but very special: the onions were cooked in beef stock with a little butter and thyme - YUM; the potatoes became deliciously crispy; and the lamb was supremely tender. There was just the right amount of sauciness too. The traditional accompaniment is pickled red cabbage, which needed to have been made six weeks earlier. Needless to say I wasn't prepared, and unfortunately the shops gave me no love either. Success struck when I found it in a jar, ready to serve with the leftovers, but sadly forgot! I realised this as I opened my pantry to see the unopened jar staring back at me. I'll take Mark Hix's word for it that the pairing is fabulous.

My fellow diners and I loved the hotpot - it certainly hit the spot on a very cold winter eve - but the dessert blew us away. I settled on Queen of Puddings - an English dessert made with breadcrumbs soaked in boiled milk with lemon rind and sugar that's baked, then topped with a layer of melted raspberry jam, then topped with meringue. Decadence is an understatement. This thing was royally fantastic. And the recipe comes from English dessert queen, Nigella Lawson.

The Queen of AJ's family (AKA grandma Trich) said it was the best dessert she's ever had. And in her 82 years she's tasted a fair few, so this was quite the compliment.

 I'd also like to note that my egg-separating skills have improved ten-fold since this journey started, so organising the whites for my meringue was a cinch - hurrah - there wasn't a skerrick of yolk. The meringue-making was made doubly easy and quick thanks to an electric beater. Beats my balloon whisk any day.

plate 23: russia

I absolutely love cooking in my kitchen, but there's a monumental advantage when cooking in my mother's kitchen: superior equipment. I discovered this with overwhelming clarity while preparing plate 23: the famous Russian beetroot soup, borscht.

It would have taken me at least half an hour to prepare most of the vegies, but not with D Rose's wizz (aka food processor). Right before my eyes, the wizz worked its magic grating three huge beetroots and two carrots before I could say Mikhail Gorbachev.

While devouring leftovers of this vegie-loaded meal that's beefed up with a bit of ... beef, a little research has revealed there's some debate over its origins. The Ukrainians claim it as their own, while the Russians say they invented it, but I'm not bothered by this culinary tug-o-war, because there's no fighting over how it tastes: fantastic. And, I can almost taste how good it is for me. (I can't actually substantiate this with hard nutritional analysis, but I reckon it's pretty nutritious.) Aside from the mandatory dollop of sour cream on top, but use light sour cream and you'll make yourself feel better.

Aside from its great flavour - and supposed health benefits - there are a few other bits of brilliance associated with borscht: it's ridiculously easy to make; it feeds many; freezes well; and it's just what's needed when its cold and rainy outside. Sure, a Sydney winter has nothing on a Russian one, but it does the trick when it's freezing by anyone's standards.

But by far the best aspect of this particular borscht, was that is was a recipe from my grandma's collection and I cooked it for my family, who loved it and said it was just like how she used to make, awww.

Jacq's grandma's borscht

1. Cut 2 beef steaks into little cubes and cook them in 10 cups of water in a stockpot until tender.

2. Shred 1/4 cabbage. Peel and grate 4 beetroots (raw) and 2 carrots. Slice 3 onions horizontally.

3. Add the vegies, 1/2 cup tomato paste, 1 tbs salt, 1/4 tsp white pepper, 1/4 tsp celery salt, 2 to 3 bay leaves (don't omit - my grandma said they're essential), 1/2 tsp allspice, 3 beef stock cubes and 2 vegetable stock cubes to the meat and cook for about 30 minutes or until soft.

4. Add the juice of 1 lemon and 2 tbs sugar. Cook for another 10 minutes.

5. Eat and enjoy x