A Single Man’s Kitchen
By Jeremy Goodwin, Nov 10, 2006

Carb loading for a cool night

As winter approaches, I am reminded of some of my experiences in Scotland when I was still in my teens. Although only a few hundred miles south of the Arctic Circle, the fading influence of the Gulf Stream keeps that part of Britain unusually mild—at least on the west coast.

I, however, was spending my time on the eastern side on the southern edge of the highlands.

They are called “highlands,” but the tallest peak is less than 5,000 feet—not very impressive in comparison to many mountain ranges, in fact lower than San Miguel—but they can be a bleak and dangerous place nonetheless. Every year people lose their lives by walking out onto a gentle hill under clear skies, often dressed just in shorts and a sweatshirt. They are secure in the knowledge of their physical fitness, their prowess in the gym and the ability to jog three miles every morning. 

What they fail to realize is the rapidity with which the temperature can drop and the weather change, leaching them of energy and warmth. After staggering around upon the sudden decent of a freezing fog, disoriented and in a panic, they often succumb within 400 yards of a road. Despite their diets and fitness regimes, their bodies lacked the massive reserves of brown adipose tissue necessary to cope with freezing temperatures.

Although this an oversimplification, your body has two main types of fat: the white adipose tissue, used for long-term storage, and the brown for immediate use. Unless you are almost daily making extreme demands on your energy, your body will tend to store excess calories in the long-term system, which is not readily available in an emergency.

When I was in my teens and twenties, my daily intake of food was enormous. Seven thousand calories a day was the minimum to maintain body weight. 

During a day working in the fields in the winter, I would drop over four pounds and put it back on by the next morning. Freezing temperatures and a stiff breeze were shirtsleeve weather.

If the sun came out, I could often be found stripped to the waist, sunning myself in the shelter of a wall with a snowdrift as a cushion.

I was living in a tiny trailer in a frost hollow with only propane for cooking, heating and light. Unfortunately, burning propane creates vast amounts of water vapor, and with nowhere to go the trailer was damp and cold at the best of times. When it got really cold, although I had the gas fire against the propane tank, by 11pm the gas started condensing in the pipes, and shortly thereafter my source of heat died. 

One day, I got up and forgot to turn off the gas before I left. During the day the outside temperature warmed sufficiently to empty the entire cylinder into the trailer. 

I was late coming home that night, there had been a heavy snowfall and I had abandoned the car. I struggled the last couple of miles home, bursting bodily through five-foot drifts. I got to the trailer soaked and exhausted. With unusual optimism, I shook the propane cylinder and bent down to light the fire. 

There was an almighty whoosh as the bottom foot of air in the trailer exploded. It was already so cold that the gas had started condensing, and the 20-odd pounds of propane went up at once. 

Lucky to be alive, I just shrugged my shoulders and went to bed—wet, cold and miserable.

In the morning I awoke to find the pillow frozen to my beard. I tried to get out through the door, but the condensation on the aluminum frame had frozen it shut. I managed to open a window and crawl out into the snow, where I gathered dry grass to build a fire in an attempt to melt the pillow from my beard. The guys driving the snowplow up the road saw me and were laughing so hard they almost drove into the ditch.

The next night, a skylight blew off in a blizzard, and it snowed on my bed, but I did not notice until the morning when I awoke to find six inches of snow on top of my blankets. 

Part of the reason I was able to survive these conditions was the obscene number of calories and sheer weight of the food I consumed daily. Unfortunately, at that time my cooking skills were rudimentary, and boiled beets or potatoes with every meal, including breakfast, can pall quite rapidly. The carbohydrate loading was necessary, but after a couple of months eating became similar to gassing up your car—necessary but not that pleasant.

Over the years since then, I have tried to make root vegetables and grains more interesting, as evidenced by the frequent appearance of saffron in a couple of different kinds of rice. Here is my version of a baked russet potato, designed to avoid having to load the table with things with which to dress it. Feel free to add or subtract ingredients according to taste.

This is a dish easily prepared in advance because the last stage takes very little time. The prep and cooking time is two hours, and the hands-on steps take only five minutes. It can be prepared in advance. 



Twice-baked potato

1 russet (Idaho) potato 

4 oz (125 g) hard sharp cheddar, grated 

2 tablespoons chopped chives or garlic tops

2 tablespoons sour cream (optional) 

salt and pepper to taste 

butter to finish



Wash the potato well and, without using foil (a barbarian practice), place it on the wire rack of an oven at 400°F. After approximately one hour, stick a pin through the skin to avoid an explosion. At 90 to 100 minutes, check to see whether the skin is stiffening and the meat has shrunk a little. 

Remove from the oven, cut, and allow to cool enough to handle. 

Grate the cheese and chop the chives. Cut the potatoes in half lengthwise, scoop out most of the potato meat into a bowl and mash it coarsely, mixing well with the chives, cheese and salt and pepper. You can add sour cream at this point if you want. 

Stuff the skins with the mixture and place it under the broiler for five minutes until the top begins to brown. 

If the potatoes cool too much do not despair. Ten minutes in the oven before putting them under the broiler will give the best result. 

Serve with full cream butter on the top.



Jeremy Goodwin is an author, freelance food writer and owner of The Best Kept Secret. He may be contacted at Jeremy@dcnet2000.com