The Week...

Quote of the week was from Michelle de Kretser's 'The Lost Dog' - a splendid piece of writing, the absence of which from last year's Booker shortlist is yet another reason to denounce the 2008 judges as a bunch of halfwits. And the quote itself, richly loaded for all the spareness of its phrasing:" ...takeaway (food) was an offence that compounded profligacy with neglect. Love merited the effort of indifferent home cooking." It speaks volumes!

Discovery of the week: was that in making posset (as in Marsala Posset with Prunes) it's necessary to have an astringent of some kind in order to make the cream set properly. As long as the flavouring agent being used is wine-based ( sherry, for example, or marsala) then that will do the trick. But in trying a version that was liqueur-based instead - as I did several days ago, when experimenting with a Blackberry and Amaretto version - then you have to include a generous squirt of something like lemon juice in order to kick-start the process. (I don't entirely understand why this should be, as the process of making clotted cream relies entirely on heating the cream, and includes no additives at all...so, go figure). If you leave out the astringent when making posset, though, then the cream won't set properly and will just remain half-heartedly runny.

New recipe of the week: a staggeringly good ice-cream, made from Crème Anglaise (6 egg yolks, 6 tbs sugar, 500 ml milk, half a tsp vanilla essence), 2 tbs Fowlers Black Treacle, half a McVities Ginger Cake (diced), 1 tbs dark rum, and 50g of finely diced candied orange peel. Lots of strong flavours vying with each other for attention, but none of them completely dominant or even readily identifiable in the end result. Best served with something like apple pie, that will cut the richness of the ice cream.

Buy of the week: a small copper saucepan, specifically for making sauces in exquisitely concentrated quantities. Not sure what it cost, as the Tech Dept found it on ebay, and muttered vaguely that it was 'around a fiver', when quizzed on the subject. A bargain, by any measure. (It's already joined the growing pile of things to be transported to Italy, next week - along with a pair of Holbelias, five picture lights, a bottle of Boyajian Orange Oil, a set of sofa cushions, some Miracle-Gro plant food, and a kilo of peeled almonds...)

Question of the week: what in God's name are we doing in grey and cold and dismal London, when Tempo Italia shows that the weather in Pisa this week is glorious?

Tonight's Dinner (post Cinema):

Warm Smoked Salmon

Roast Beef; Carrots/Mushrooms/Scallions sautéed in Butter, with Cumin.

Meringues, with Crème Chantilly and Raspberries

Recipe: Lemon Tart

Two things make this recipe a phenomenal success:
1. Use of ‘00’ flour for the pastry (not only does it produce a superbly-textured pastry, but the flavour of the baked tart shell is distinct and delicious – not unlike a particularly good digestive biscuit); and
2. The filled tart should be baked in an oven set at only around 130 degrees C, so that the filling ‘sets’ rather than ‘cooks’; this gives it a wonderfully velvety quality.

Over the years, I’ve tried many different methods for making Lemon Tart. This one is as good as it gets!

For an 8” diameter tart.

Ingredients: Short-crust pastry made with 5 oz ‘00’ Flour, 4 oz Butter and water; 4 Eggs; 2 oz Sugar (or equivalent volume Splenda); zest from 2 Lemons, and the juice from 1; half a cup of cream. Icing Sugar, to dust the surface of the finished tart.

Method:

1. Roll out pastry and use it to line a greased (or Trennwaxed) 8” false-bottomed tart tin. Leave to rest in the fridge for half an hour, then bake blind for twenty minutes in a 200 degree C oven. (The shell needs to be fully baked at this stage).

2. Reduce the oven temperature to 130 degrees C.

3. Whisk the Eggs in a bowl with the Sugar (or Splenda); whisk in the Cream, along with the Lemon zest and juice (and if you have any Boyajian Lemon Oil, then add a couple of drops of this also – it raises the lemon ‘hit’ significantly).

4. Pour the filling into the tart shell, and bake for approximately 45 minutes; remove from the oven as soon as the filling is clearly no longer liquid when you gently shake the tart tin to test for done-ness.

Allow to cool, and sprinkle with Icing Sugar. Serve.

Credit Crunch Cooking...

...is actually a misnomer, I think. Perhaps it's my scottish blood, but I've always believed that a significant element of being able to cook is about efficient husbanding of resources, and about producing optimal results from the limited raw materials available. Getting the most bang for your buck. It always sounds more elegant in the original french, but when all's said and done, any recipe which includes 'bon marché' in its name means nothing more nor less than 'cheap'....well, ok, 'good value' And I'm all for it. The current economic climate is more likely to encourage a general focus on good food for less money, I suppose - but I confess I've pretty much always been there, anyway.

Some guidelines for stretching the pennies, but without having to compromise on what you put on the table:

1. Shop opportunistically. If you see that something is reduced-to-clear, but still within its sell-by date, or there's a 'special' on offer, then adjust your menu plans to acommodate it, or buy it for the freezer (or even, buy more than you need right now, and freeze the surplus for future use). Equally, if travelling and there are things available which would be more expensive at home, then stock up while you can. It's on this basis that I have a freezer currently stuffed with Salmon Fillets and Duck Legs (all the result of reduced-to-clear labels) as well as Snails, and Frog Legs (from the supermarket in Tournus, where we stopped whilst driving the four-footeds back from Italy in January) and ready supplies in the cupboard of '00' flour and Carnaroli Rice, from the shop round the corner in Pisa. This approach was also the reason why we had boned Poussin for dinner, last night....reduced to £2.09 for the entire bird, it was a bargain!

2. Don't waste money on processed or ready-made products, when you can make them for yourself for significantly less cost (and probably get a better result, as well). Pastry (of any kind), pasta, stock, cakes, biscuits, sauces...the premium charged on most of these things is horrendous as well as generally needless. If you master the techniques involved in doing it yourself - along with things like boning poultry, which is another clear opportunity for significant economy - then you'll become a much better cook, as well as saving money along the way.

3. Plan ahead, so your meals over several days allow you to save time and money in aggregate: leftover cold roast chicken can be used subsequently in salad or a pie; one batch of pastry can go into three different courses over three or four days; chicken bones make stock on one day, for use in a risotto on the next; leftover sauce from a daube can later form the basis for a pasta sauce; egg whites left over from making a custard can be used for almond biscuits...
Whatever you do, NEVER throw any food or unused ingredients away! It's the cardinal sin, and basically means you screwed up on your planning if you have to. Why not just tear up banknotes instead?

And the pictures accompanying this post? Well, they were last night's dinner: Snails (delicious!), followed by boned Poussin and Carrots, with lattice-topped Rhubarb pie to finish. And the whole thing, for two people, came to under a fiver...with enough Poussin left over for a starter tomorrow, and half of the Rhubarb pie, which was polished off with coffee this morning.

Tonight's Dinner:

Tiger Prawns with Mango.

Braised Oxtail, with Cabbage & Juniper.

Lemon Tart.

Panettone Bread & Butter Pudding

Without question, the acme of all Bread & Butter Puddings!

Panettone texture has a resilience which, in its natural state, can be reminiscent of chewing on lightly baked flannel, but which comes into its own in this kind of recipe; at the same time as absorbing the 'custard' in which it cooks, it avoids disintegrating into a characterless pap (the culinary equivalent of a wet-fish handshake!). The use of cream rather than milk in this dish results in a wonderfully silky unctuousness, and the addition of brown sugar and cinnamon just before baking gives the finished pudding a whole extra degree of sophistication. My personal preference is to include fresh raspberries between the layers of panettone...although you don't have to, and it is delicious even if you leave them out.

Made in individual ramekins, this would be dinner-party standard, and is fantastic served either warm from the oven, or cold, the next day.

For four.

Ingredients: 1-cm-thick slices of Panettone, sufficient to make two layers in a baking dish approx 8" x 4" ( I use a Panettone which already contains dried fruit and peel; if you use a plain one, then add a couple of tablespoons of each to the list of ingredients); 2 oz Butter; 2 Eggs; 10 fl oz Cream; 2 oz Sugar (or equivalent volume Splenda); 1 tsp Vanilla Essence; half a cup of fresh Raspberries; generous teaspoon each of ground Cinnamon and Demarara Sugar.

Method:

1. Heat the oven to 180 degrees C.

2. Butter one side of the slices of Panettone. Make a single layer of them in the base of a greased (or Trennwaxed) baking dish. Sprinkle with the Raspberries, and with half of the dried fruit and peel, if your Pannetone is the plain variety. Make a second layer with the remaining buttered slices of Panettone (and remaining dried fruit and peel, if appropriate).

3. In a bowl, whisk together the Cream, Eggs, Sugar (or Splenda) and Vanilla Essence. Pour this mixture over the Panettone slices, and leave to stand for half an hour.

4. Just before baking, sprinkle the surface of the pudding with Cinnamon and Demarara Sugar, and then bake in the pre-heated oven for 30 minutes. Allow to cool down for five minutes or so before serving.

Frascati.

I'm not sure how we got round to it - perhaps the fact that we were quaffing a perfectly drinkable Orvieto, which I think had come in at around two euros a bottle - but the conclusion over dinner one evening last week was that it's rare (in fact, almost unheard-of) to come across a duff bottle of Orvieto. And yet with Frascati, that stalwart of cheapo drinks parties since time immemorial, it's practically a game of russian roulette when risking a bottle from a producer that you don't already know.

There's a reason, and it lies in the rules of the formal definitions of the two different wines.
Orvieto must always be composed predominantly of two grapes - Grechetto and Trebbiano - and the variations thereafter are the result of the presence in varying degrees, and very much in a supporting role, of a few other grape varieties: Malvasia, Drupeggio, Verdello and Canaiolo Bianco. It's a pretty well-defined theme on which subtle variations are invited to be played.

Frascati, on the other hand, is more...um...'relaxed' in the rules it is required to follow. It can be 100% Malvasia Bianca di Candia (but not less than 50%, in any event); it can have a minimum 10% content of Trebbiano Toscana (and not more than 20%) or of Malvasia del Lazio (but not more than 40%)....but doesn't actually have to have any of either; and it can, but doesn't have to, include up to 30% of any mixture you can think of that contains Greco, Trebbiano Giallo, Bellone, and Bombino Bianco ....oh, and to finish it off, you can include up to 15% of any other grape variety you can think of that grows within the Lazio region, if you feel like bunging it in at the time. With rules like that, I'm surprised they don't also allow a generous percentage of grass cuttings and of chicken feed...or, in fact, thinking of some Frascati's I've experienced in years gone by, perhaps they do...

In light of all of this, a polite description of the finished wine might be that it's something of a fruit salad; a less generous take might be to pair it not with Spaghetti alla Carbonara - its more usual partner - than with Spaghetti alla Puttanesca. For obvious reasons.



Tonight's Dinner:

Scallop Mousseline.

Roast Lamb (with a dry Mustard Crust); Potatoes roast with Sage & Rosemary.

Panettone Bread & Butter Pudding, baked with fresh Raspberries.

Spring Flowers...

Life goes on.

In one fell swoop, the garden has come alive. The climbing hydrangea is sprouting like mad, and at one go we have the first flowers opening on the magnolias and the vinca minor; timings are all over the place, as the last of the crocus are still opening, at the same time as the leaf buds appear on the persimmmon tree (which I'm sure should be at least a couple of weeks later); the Japanese Camellia is three weeks late coming into flower, but the Rock Cranesbill is already showing its first bloom. As luck would have it, the carpet of Armandii on the south pergola is strutting its stuff, just as we're due to be away for three weeks, and so it will bloom in unobserved splendour. On the surface of the lily pond, the Water Hawthorn flowers are standing proud, and I expect a mass of them by the time we return. A solitary Hellebore blooms at the foot of the south wall - they ought to do well in this garden, but for some inexplicable reason they don't.

Difficult to feel sad in the middle of so much vibrant new life. Reflective, maybe...but that's a different thing

Tonight's Dinner:

Asparagus Mousse.

Fegato alla Veneziana.

Tartes aux Pommes.

Bosun

Completely unexpectedly, the senior four-footed died yesterday. So difficult even to write it. An awful, awful gap.

And a Bosun-shaped gap looks like?

It's the puppy, all those years ago, who got so excited when he discovered that he could burrow right under the china cabinet and emerge somewhere else entirely at the other end (when he got too large to do so, I found the Technical Department considering raising the cabinet on wooden blocks, just so that he could carry on...), and the puppy who used to gallop, ears flapping, through the long grass in Kensington Gardens, for all the world as though he was hunting wildebeest in the Serengeti...
It's the dog who turned out to love music - just like his great-grandmother, apparently - and who would always raise his head and join in with the 'Dies Irae' in Verdi's Requiem (although his absolute favourite was nothing so high-brow, but was actually the signature tune from The Archers!) and whose particular partiality was for strong cheddar and for chicken livers. The dog who, tennis ball firmly in his mouth, would look round and check every so often when we were out for a walk that everybody was present and correct....and who, during the day, would come and find me whatever I was doing, and would curl up on the floor right there, because that was where he was supposed to be.

I shall miss the little pleasure noises he made when he was having a cuddle, or the inside of his ears were being scratched...or that difficult unreachable place right in the middle of his back; I shall miss the polite, Jeevesian woofle - more a throat-clearing than a bark - he made if he felt we were overdue in getting up and getting on with things in the morning, and the way he'd hang around after the junior four-footed had finished his breakfast milk and gone off back to bed, to lean against the fridge door and indicate that a little piece of cheese would really be quite a good idea (and which latterly he always got). I shall miss the din he used to make with his metal drinking bowl - by kicking it against the wall - if ever it was empty and he was thirsty...and the polite way he'd then wait for water to arrive (and the extended kicking and clanging if nothing had happened after several minutes, since obviously we couldn't have heard the first time). I shall miss the sceptical expression on his face when listening to the Today programme in the mornings...nothing to do with anything, of course, but his timing was often uncannily accurate when somebody was talking particular guff. And above all I shall miss those moments when we'd be playing together, and for a second or two he would rest his forehead against my shoulder, and just stay there, completely still; moments of perfect closeness.

Yesterday morning, he went in for what we thought should have been a fairly routine piece of surgery, but when the vet looked inside, he found a tumour so aggressive that he said we shouldn't bring him round from the anaesthetic, but should just let him carry on sleeping peacefully. He hadn't been in pain at any point, and so the best thing we could do was to let him go. Which we owed it to him to do...

And so, he sleeps on. Hunting wildebeest in the Serengeti, in his dreams. Ears flapping, as he gallops onward through the long grass...

Sleep well, Old Friend.

Bosun.
7.04.1997 - 7.03.2009