A Weekend of Consumption...

And about equally balanced between the cerebral and the calorific. If the ‘Beyond Babylon’ exhibition at The British Museum were to be understood in culinary terms, though, I think it would probably be a British Rail sandwich: more effort spent on the packaging than on the content, which turned out to be thin, tired, unimaginative, and entirely lacking in nutritional value. Perhaps when Neil Macgregor has finished churning out the series of intellectually-bereft extravaganzas with which he seems determined to burden the BM (and for which he was previously responsible during his stint at the National Gallery) he should consider a move to head up British Rail Catering. At least that way I’d be unlikely to trip over any more of his dreary and deeply depressing output.

The Palladio exhibition at the RA, on the other hand, would be a splendid Game Pie: four-square, robust, absorbing, and with a range of wonderful flavours contained within it. Deeply satisfying. Not much that was unfamiliar, but like a substantial slice of something one hasn’t tasted for a while, all the more rewarding in re-discovery!

And after that, an afternoon spent wandering the galleries of the Wallace Collection can surely only be compared with the myriad delights of an over-enthusiastic dessert trolley. In amongst the fruit salad, and the things with pink icing, and the garishly glazed strawberry tarts – to please the palates of the timid and the human young, respectively – the glories of a perfect Millefeuille, or a Paris-Brest, or a Pear poached in Sauternes! In the words of Noel Coward: “Gainsboroughs… and Lawrences…and some sporting prints of Aunt Florence’s…(some of which, were rather rude!)”
When we were finally ejected into the street, at closing time, it was with a sense of having been very well fed indeed.

In between times, the calorific intake included a celebration dinner at The Ambassadors in Exmouth Market - the Brancolis-in-London were marking one of their ‘zero’ birthdays with a Grand Dinner - which of course entailed a lateness of hour and quantity of consumption that was entirely out of kilter with the age that was being celebrated! (But then, isn’t that nearly always the case? I recall once catering a ninetieth birthday in Dr Johnson’s House, in Gough Square, where the steepness of the stairs combined with too many cups of tea meant that many of the guests – once they’d made a trip to the loo – found it easier to go home than to contemplate tackling the stairs up to the first floor once more!)

Tonight’s Dinner:

Egg-white Cheese Soufflé

Double-roast Lamb Shanks in Red Wine; Parsnip purée (with Sherry & Walnuts)

Tartes aux Pommes

Recipe: Endive with Orange

When serving a deliciously uncomplicated joint of meat, or a baked fish, or a spit-roast bird - where the freshness and sheer quality of the creature shines through, and the less you muck around with it, the better it is - there's an opportunity to offset this with a vegetable dish where there's clearly rather more going on. This is one of those dishes. I've experimented with an easier version, where I merely shredded and sauteed the endive, and added the orange flavouring at the end, and although it worked perfectly adequately, it was nowhere near as good as the version given here The concentration of flavours in the sauce and the slightly 'caramelised' texture of the endive lifts it to a higher level, but without it too obviously crying out for attention. If serving for a dinner party, prepare the endive in advance to the point where it's about to go into the oven, and then set it aside and put it into the oven as you sit to the first course.

For four.

Ingredients: 4 Belgian Endive; 2 oz Butter; 1 clove of Garlic, minced; juice and rind of half an Orange; 1 tsp Brown Sugar; 4 tbs White Wine Vinegar; 5 fl oz Water; Salt, to taste.

Method:

1. Heat the oven to 190 degrees C.

2. Melt the Butter in a sauté pan (one that can subsequently fit entirely in the oven) and once melted, lightly colour the Garlic in the Butter.

3. Cut the Endives in half, lengthwise, and discard any obviously hard bits of central core. Place the Endives face down in the sauté pan and cook a couple for of minutes on each side, until slightly browned at the edges. Add all the remaining ingredients, and bring them to a boil, stirring all the time. Remove from heat.

4. Cover the pan with foil, and then place in the pre-heated oven for twenty minutes. Once the Endives are tender and cooked through, remove the pan from the oven and take the Endives out of the sauce. Place them on the serving plates.

5. Boil the sauce down for a minute or so, until it has noticeably reduced and thickened; spoon the sauce over the plated Endives, and serve

Eat Eggs!

It won't surprise any regular reader of this blog to hear that I don't have a lot of time for so-called food-health 'experts'. To my mind, they talk a lot of witless blather, and are closely associated with the mass hysteria that risk-averse governments (in the UK, particularly) engender every two or three years, in conjunction with the idiots from the health-and-safety police. Two or three months ago, it was Irish Pork that we were all supposed to be shunning...although, when closely questioned, the 'experts' quietly acknowledged that the risk associated with eating the stuff was about on the same level as the likelihood of winning the lottery.

In pretty much the same discreet way, it appears that the truth is now finally being admitted about the much-maligned egg. Ok, the advice that nobody should consume more than one egg a week was long ago acknowledged to have been the result of somebody in the WHO having got their decimal point in the wrong place. But it was only in 2007 that the idea was officially dropped that three eggs a week per person was a healthy maximum...and this was done in such a low key way, that it appears that 45% of the population still believes that eggs are somehow bad for you, and lead to clogged arteries and heart attacks. Equally quietly, the British Heart Foundation (spokesperson: Senior Dietician, Victoria Taylor) has now concluded firstly that the cholesterol in eggs has only a clinically insignificant effect on a person's blood-cholesterol, and secondly that in fact no more than a third of the cholesterol in the human body is in any way related to the cholesterol that they've ingested by way of food consumption. For the most part, it's generated internally as a direct result of various aspects of lifestyle. And to my mind, the mealy-mouthed acknowledgement of 'no more than a third' invites investigation to establish quite how much less than a third might be closer to reality.

In any event, this is good news for egg-lovers everywhere, who hitherto have felt constrained from going for their desired level of consumption (in which group I don't count myself, and the average weekly consumption of eggs in this household has always hovered around the dozen per person - if not more...) Eggs are stuffed full of proteins and vitamins (and apparently are also good sources of 'lipids', whatever they might be); they're low in calories (if you bother about that sort of thing); and there now appears to be no upper limit to how many you should eat, beyond exactly as many as you feel like!

Enjoy!

Recipe: Apples Baked in Cream

Delicious. This is a first cousin to the fantastic Italian recipe for Pears baked in Marsala, which is one of my favourite standbys: in both instances, the flavour of the fruit concentrates wonderfully as it bakes, surrendering its juices into the liquid in which it sits, and those flavours in turn mingling with the dark richness of the muscovado sugar. Home and hearth and self-indulgence, all in one!

Not the most elegant of dishes, this can still present well enough to serve to guests (as long as you haven't reduced the apples to complete road-kill in the process of removing their cores, that is) and the flavour of the end-result will definitely win you points. It also scores on the basis of ease of preparation...takes about five minutes prep in total, and is yet another of those dishes that meets the "What the hell amI going to make for dessert within the five minutes I actually have available?" criteria.

For two.

Ingredients: 2 large or 3 medium eating Apples; 6 tablespoons Muscovado Sugar; 6-8 fl oz Cream.

Method:

1. Heat the oven to 180 degrees C.

2. Peel the Apples; slice them in half vertically, and then carefully remove the core from each half, leaving you with an apple-half with a neat depression where the core has been removed.

3. Place the apple-halves, depression-side-up, in a buttered baking dish.

4. Sprinkle 4 tablespoons of Sugar over the halves and then carefully pour the Cream in and around the fruit. Place in the oven.

5. After 10 minutes, remove the dish from the oven, and sprinkle the remaining Sugar over the Apples. Return to the oven for a further half an hour.

Allow to cool down for five minutes or so before serving, so that the dish isn't too hot to be able to enjoy the flavours.

Gaston Lenotre...

...has died. And of all the places to learn of it, the fact that it was on the obituary page in last week's Economist magazine indicates just what a tour de force he became in his lifetime in the world of food. I hadn't particularly realised the stature of the man - until quite recently - and for many years he was no more than the face on the front of my battered copy of 'Desserts & Pastries' which has been the source of many good recipes and very reliable techniques over the past twenty five years or so. I think he's currently out of print - which is quite scandalous, when you consider the towering piles of second rate 'celebrity chef' tat available in bookshops the length and breadth of the land - and when I just checked on Amazon, the sort of prices being asked for second hand copies of his various books quite took my breath away.

In some respects, the Economist obituary got him absolutely spot-on: pâtisserie is about precision, and his explanations for making all different kinds of pastries and doughs are clear, concise ... and they work! And not in the ho-hum Delia Smith I-suppose-it-will-do way of 'working', but they are light and delicious and positively ambrosial. There were other aspects of the obituary which I think must have had him turning in his grave, though - a reference to using 'a cupful' of sugar, for example, instead of a specific measurement by weight would not have gone down well with Monsieur L...and I suspect he would have thought it rather sloppy to talk of eating Galette des Rois on January 8th, when any self-respecting frenchman knows that it is traditionally served on the Sunday closest to January 6th. January 8th this year was a Thursday... Yes, I knowI'm being a pedant, but it's that kind of pedantry which is necessary in good baking and which formed the underpinning to Lenôtre's entire approach to cooking.

Slightly eerily, although I only just came across his obituary, it was actually on January 8th that he died...which was the same day on which I served Pear & Almond Tarts for dessert, following his excellent recipe, and wondered aloud to the Technical Dept whether Lenôtre could still be alive "since he must be about 89, by now". In fact, he was 88 at the time of his passing. The World is a richer place for his having been around.

Tonight's Dinner:

Mackerel in White Wine, with Juniper, Shallots & Carrots.

Duck Breasts, grilled; Gratin of Turnips.

Cointreau-flavoured panna cotta (I'm out of Limoncello in London, and Cointreau is a delicious alternative)

Crossing Continents...

Thursday morning. Finally, after days of growling skies and almost incessant rain, the sun broke through the clouds, and we had a few hours of spring sunshine before having to head to the airport. Necessary, in order to complete a few garden tasks that wouldn't very well wait for the two weeks we're due to be in London. Like, retrieving and re-positioning the planter-basket of water lilies which I noticed at Christmas had broken free from its moorings, and had plunged gently to the bottom of the vasca...two metres of chilly water below. A malodorous and messy job - but definitely one that couldn't have waited any longer, as it was clear that the plants were already coming out of hibernation, and new shoots were evident as the basket broke the surface, streaming water and bottom-of-the-vasca ooze.

In general, the garden is coming alive: crocus tips just visible through the leaves of the vinca minor; the japanese camellia showing half a dozen pure white blooms; cohorts of narcissus thrusting into the open; strong new growth in the iris bed; buds about to break open on the magnolias...

The cymbidium plants have flowered gloriously this year - one of them more generously than the other, presumably because the latter is in need of re-potting - and I carefully transferred them to the loggia for our time away, where they should do well, out of the rain, but with plenty of daylight.

And back to London - to the four-footeds, and the grubby remains of the snow. The grass of Kensington Gardens weirdly populated with white-ish lumps that presumably denoted ex-snowmen...which, in their prime, must have resembled the terracotta army, ranked across the lawns and between the trees. And every one of which required thorough canine examination...just in case. Because, you never know.

A dietarily-focused couple of weeks is planned, to address the aftermath of a sedentary and food-filled period since Christmas. No pasta, or pastry, or risotto...or potatoes, or bread. In theory, we ought to go on the wagon at the same time, but the TD is disinclined to do it, and I know I don't have the will-power to manage it alone! The question is whether or not I have the will-power to manage to avoid all the rest!

Tonight's Dinner:

Tiger Prawns, in a Vermouth & Paprika & Cream sauce.

Pork, roast in Mustard; roast Parsnips

Apple & Vanilla Tarts

How to make Puff Pastry...

After an initial disaster or two, many years ago, I gave up on making puff pastry, and pretended (to myself) that the commercially-made alternative was good enough. Which it isn't. At the first bite, the flavour of home-made puff pastry is immeasurably better than any commercial product - and although it involves a few stages in production, the aggregate time it takes to make a batch is no more than twenty minutes or so. Good to do in tandem with some other mundane garden or household task from which you'll happily take an enforced break once every hour!

I can't remember now what it was that went wrong with my early efforts - although I suspect it was because I was trying to go the purist route, and use the block of butter in one large lump, which is pretty challenging for the uninitiated. If you get the temperature of the butter wrong, you just end up with a sticky mess that gets wrapped around the rolling pin and tries to attach itself to all available surfaces within reach. Quite probably, including the ceiling.

The method I use is adapted from Gaston Le Nôtre, who is to be trusted implicitly in all matters pâtisserie. His method for choux pastry is equally straightforward and completely foolproof. I disagree with him, though, when he says that this puff pastry needs to be used on the day it is made - in practice, it's fine in the fridge for three or four days afterwards, and any off-cuts can perfectly safely be frozen for future use.

To make sufficient pastry for one large double crust pie, or half a dozen or so individual pastries:

Ingredients: 2 cups '00' Flour (you don't have to use '00' - ordinary 'Plain Flour' would work, too, but '00'is lighter and has a distinctively good flavour...whereas Plain Flour is just...flavourless Plain Flour); 130g Butter, at room temperature; 1.5 tsp Salt; 0.5 cup cold Water; 130g Butter, fridge-chilled and cut into small pieces.

Method:

1. Process all of the ingredients apart from the chilled Butter for a minute or so,until they form a homogenous ball within the bowlof the processor. Wrap in cling-film and refrigerate for an hour.

2. On a floured work surface, roll the ball of pastry into a strip approximately 18" x 6". On two thirds of this strip of pastry, place the pieces of chilled Butter.

3. Fold the uncovered third of pastry over half of the pieces of Butter, and then fold this again over the remaining pieces of Butter so that all of the Butter pieces are contained within an 'envelope' of pastry.

4. Turn the pastry so that one of the open ends of the roll is facing you, and roll it - gently pressing down with the rolling pin as you do so, to flatten the Butter inside the pastry - into a strip about 16" in length.

5. Fold both ends of the strip towards the middle,and then fold these once more into themselves. Turn the 'package' through ninety degrees, and repeat the rolling and folding process. Refrigerate the folded 'package' for an hour.

6. After an hour, repeat the rolling, folding and turning process twice more, and refrigerate.

7. After another hour, roll and fold the pastry twice more (making it six times in total, with two one-hour breaks in between for it to rest and re-chill).

The pastry is now ready to be used.