Recipe: Apple Sorbet with Calvados

Another one from Anne Willan - the additional garnish of dried apple and a further splash of calvados was at the TD's behest, as he felt the sorbet on its own lacked edge. This recipe produces a wonderfully soft-textured sorbet, with a good strong flavour. It keeps pretty well - although, like all sorbets, it will become granular if left in the freezer for more than a couple of weeks (in which case, simply leave it to melt at room temperature for an hour or so, and then re-churn it in the ice cream machine; it will be restored immediately to pristine condition.)

For 8-10 servings.

Ingredients: For the Sorbet: 2 large Apples, peeled, cored and diced; 1.5 litres of Water; 250g Sugar; 1 tsp powdered cinnamon; 125 ml Lemon Juice; 150 ml Calvados.

For the garnish: 2 large Apples, peeled, cored and diced; juice from 1 Lemon; 1 tbs Sugar; half a tbs ground Cinnamon; Calvados.

Method:

For the Sorbet:

1. In a saucepan, heat the Apples, Sugar, Water and Cinnamon, stirring until the Sugar has completely dissolved; then cover and simmer for 15 minutes or so, until the Apples have completely broken down.

2. Sieve the mixture, then stir in the Lemon Juice and Calvados (at this stage, taste for sweetness and add more Sugar if necessary).

3. Chill the mixture, and then churn in an ice cream machine. Freeze until needed (if hard-frozen, then let it soften in the fridge for about an hour before serving).

For the garnish:

Mix the diced Apple with Lemon Juice, Sugar and Cinammon. Spread the pieces out on a silpat sheet, or on a baking sheet lined with greaseproof paper. Dry for an hour in an oven pre-heated to 125 degrees C, then leave aside to cool - the texture at this stage should be pleasantly chewy. When serving the Sorbet, garnish each serving with a small amount of dried Apple, and a spoonful of Calvados.

Camellias - a Discovery!

We decided ages ago that we wanted some more Japonicas, to go under the pine trees, in amongst the hydrangeas, so that there would be something going on in that part of the garden during the winter months, when the hydrangeas are resolutely dormant. Already, we'd put in a row of camellia japonicas - half a dozen different kinds, but all with predominantly white flowers -  between the entrance pergola and the pine trees, and the idea was to plant more, disappearing off into the distance, towards the South Lawn beyond the pine trees - but to have them gradually going through whites, to light pinks, to that kind of strong, deep pink that Camellias are so good at. It's the perfect time of year to go and buy the things, as they're just now properly coming into bloom, so you can actually know what it is you're getting. (All the japonicas we put in a year ago are now absolutely dripping with either blooms or buds, and look splendid).

I researched suppliers, and narrowed the choice of possibles down to two: somebody in Cappanori, near Pistoia, who looked as though they operated a pretty straightforward commercial nursery, and an intriguingly eccentric outfit up towards the Garfagnana, with a website (www.camelieantiche.com) which seemed all about  re-discovering camellias from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries which had somehow got 'lost' in the passage of time. There wasn't really a website for the business itself, but digging around I managed to find an address and a phone number, which at least allowed us to confirm that yes, they were going to be open that afternoon. Based in Borgo a Mozzano, which looked interestingly pretty and historic, we decided to  make an outing of it, and piled into the car.

Borgo a Mozzano, we found - pretty, it isn't - and after that we got conclusively lost for half an hour or so. Eventually, we located some broken-down old greenhouses, and a front door (by which stage, I was thinking wistfully of Cappanori), which was answered by the daughter of the camellia grower. No, Mamma wasn't here...she was at the nursery which is actually in Piana della Rocca...another village, about five minutes drive further up the valley. Time was marching on, tempers getting frayed, and we risked not getting to the place before it closed. However...

We did.

And it was amazing. Thousand upon thousands of Camellias, all looking beautifully healthy and jostling for attention...and even more thousands (upon thousands) of azaleas, which it turns out is the speciality of Signora Garibaldi (the Camellia grower)'s husband. Like a chlorophyll version of the 101 dalmations, every time a door was opened or a curtain raised, there were yet more massed ranks of the things...everywhere. And, indeed, Signora G's speciality is all the old varieties, many of which she has 'recovered' from the gardens and parks of the huge old villas in the hills around Lucca - two that we bought, were from cuttings that came from the gardens of the Villa Reale, and all of them could be traced back to some aristocratic garden or other from the neighbourhood. They described themselves as 'appasionati' of camellias - which I think must be an enormous understatement; completely, but wonderfully, obsessed would be more like it. She showed us her working lists of the camellias she'd re-discovered, and when and where, and their overall provenance, and where she had gaps she was looking to fill...and her level of enthusiasm was contagious. 

In the end...after an hour or so...we just about managed to load into the back of the car six large camellias, four medium white azaleas, and an enormous blood-red azalea, which is now in the large copper pot near the garden gate. It was as much as we could fit in, in one go.....but we'll be back, for more!

Tonight's Dinner:

Deep Fried Pork and Prawn Won Ton.

Osso Bucco; Celeriac and Potato purée.

Bitter Orange Soufflés.

Spaghettini alla Nursina...

It wouldn't happen in London. The San Lorenzo's dropped in for a cup of tea, a couple of days ago, and at the same time handed over some black truffles that somebody had given them, and which they thought we could put to good use. (Paolo seems to have grateful ex-patients the World over, and the S-L's generally have some exotic form of comestible blocking up their hallway - a case of verdelli just arrived from Sicily, for example, or  a cool-box with melt-in-the-mouth mozzarella sent from Naples, or a package of spicy 'nduja from Puglia...)

Best not mucked around with, the truffles went in their entirety into two servings of Spaghettini alla Nursina as a starter for dinner, last night - 40 grammes was just about enough. Sliced wafer-thin, and then cut crosswise into the most delicate of julienne, they were doused in olive oil, and left to sit, macerating gently along with two or three finely sliced basil leaves. Mixed with a light anchovy sauce just before being added to the al-dente spaghettini, the result was perfect! 

And not about to be repeated any time soon, either - not unless we win the jackpot, or the four-footeds suddenly become useful and discover truffles growing in the orchard!

Tonight's Dinner:

Funghi Porcini Tarts, in Polenta Crust.

Hamburgers, with braised Celery.

Apples baked in cream, with Brown Sugar and Cinnamon.

Breadmaking - a tip....

I'm making bread again. I'd stopped, for years, on the basis that I wanted to avoid getting fat. But on the, probably spurious, basis that I can offset the effect by all the strenuous labour in the garden, I've thrown caution to the winds and got stuck back into bread dough. Which is wonderful stuff!

My problem, though, was for ages that I didn't know how best to create the right environment in which to leave the dough to rise. It wasn't a problem I'd ever encountered back in catering days, when the ambient temperature of the kitchen was always perfect for leaving bread to rise (but generally lousy for tempering chocolate). 'Leave it on a shelf in the airing cupboard'  suggest some books - I don't have one - or, 'it's best in the oven, with just the pilot light on', say others - fine, except I've never actually had a gas oven. Playing around with pre-heating the oven to a low temperature and then turning it off, in the hope that it would be about right, was very hit and miss...and I mean very.

And then, I thought to consult Elizabeth Luard, who is not only splendidly no-nonsense, but has loads of experience of cooking in kitchens of varying levels of lack-of-sophistication, as outlined in the period that went towards her masterwork on 'European Peasant Cooking'. She suggests putting a roasting pan of boiling water at the bottom of the oven at the start of the rising period, and then leaving the door closed (temperature off) until it's time to knock the dough back and get on with the next stage - and if you're following a method that has multiple risings, then replenish the boiling water in the pan at the start of each new rising period. It works. It's wonderful. I've tried it three times in succession, now, and had a perfect result each time...

Tonight's Dinner:

Pan-fried Foie Gras, with Wild Mushrooms and Rocket.

Fillets of Sea-Bream, sautéed with Tomato, Basil, Rosemary & Lemon.

Limoncello Panna Cotta, with Fresh Raspberries.

Recipe: Terrine of Chicken with Chicken Livers

Closely based on something from Simone Beck's collection of recipes published in 1972, this is an excellent terrine - up there with the best, and certainly as good as the rabbit and lemon terrine that has for me long been the acme of this kind of dish. Not particularly complicated to construct, once the  list of ingredients has been assembled, it is vital that it remain untouched for at least a week - and preferably ten days - after having been cooked; as the terrine matures, the flavours just get better and better. 

It's an advantage also if you have a mincer to process the ingredients that go to make the 'binding' element in the terrine, rather than resort to a food processor; the latter isn't impossible, but I suspect that, with a food processor,  you risk reducing the mixture to a purée, which will compromise the quality of the finished product in terms of both texture and flavour.

Serves 10.

Ingredients: 4 Chicken Breasts; approx 15 slices of rindless unsmoked Bacon (for lining the terrine; in Italy, I use slices of lardo, which aren't generally available elsewhere);250g diced Pancetta; 250g cooked Ham; 250g Chicken Livers; 2 tbs Butter; 0.5 tsp dried Thyme; Salt & Pepper; 0.5 cup Cognac; 1 large Egg; generous pinch of Nutmeg; 0.25 tsp ground Coriander; 2 tbs mixed finely-chopped Tarragon, Oregano, Parsley; medium Bay Leaf, dried and ground to powder; 250g Prosciutto (preferably in one piece, so that it can be cut into thick strips, but if you can only get pre-sliced, this will work as well).

Method:

1. Line the terrine mould with the slices of Bacon, leaving the ends hanging over the sides, so that once the mould is full they can be laid across the top.

 

2. Cut two of the Chicken Breasts into slices and then into half centimetre strips.

3. Put through the mincer the remaining Breasts, along with the Pancetta and Ham; mix together thoroughly in a large bowl.

4. Cut each of the Chicken Livers into four pieces and sauté in melted Butter for three or four minutes, until coloured, then add dried Thyme and season with Salt & Pepper, pour in half of the Cognac, and flame. Once the flames have died down, remove the Livers with a slotted spoon, and add the cooking juices to the minced mixture, along with the Egg and the remaining Cognac. Stir thoroughly, and mix in the nutmeg and herbs; add Salt and Pepper as appropriate.

5. Cut the Prosciutto into strips.

6. Assemble the terrine:  into the lined terrine mould put a third of the chicken mixture, levelled to fill the mould evenly; cover with a layer of strips of Chicken Breast (half of the total amount), then a layer of trsips of Ham (half of the total amount), then a  layer of Chicken Livers (half of the total amount). Repeat the process with half of the remaining chicken mixture, topped with layers of the remaining Chicken Breast, Ham, and Chicken Livers, and finally a layer of the remaining chicken mixture. Fold the strips of Bacon over the top of the filling, and cover the whole thing with a layer of aluminium foil, and then the lid of the terrine mould.

7. Place the mould in a bain marie, and cook a 180 degree C oven for two hours.

8. Remove from the oven, and allow to cool for an hour or so, then remove the lid from the terrine, and place a weighted board on top of the foil covering; remove the water from the bain marie, but leave the mould standing in the roasting pan while being weighted, as liquid can leach out at this stage. After 12 hours, put the entire thing in the fridge, and only remove the weight after 48 hours.

9. Serve only after a week has elapsed - this terrine doesn't unmould well, and so is best sliced directly from the mould. Serve with slices of cornichons, and a green salad.

Treasure trove!

Bound copies of 'Cuisine et Vins de France' for the entire period from April 1965 through until the end of 1973. The Technical Dept found them languishing on French ebay - apparently having spent the last few decades gathering dust in an attic in Besancon - and he snapped up the lot! Quite apart from this covering the years during which Richard Olney was writing for the magazine, it is an absolute Aladdin's cave of 'new' material. Logically, you'd think that anything good from that period would have made it into the culinary firmament and long ago become tried-and-trusted and thoroughly familiar - but in practice, it doesn't seem to work like that: I've recently been digging through a couple of books of recipes by Simone Beck, dating from the early seventies, and have unearthed one previously (to me) unknown gem after another in the process. Cuisine et Vins promises many, many excellent things...

With sources like that available, it makes me even more jaded when contemplating the endless quantities of glossy offerings from the likes of Nigella and Angela and Delia and Gordon...where (although I confess, I don't actually own any, but I have glanced at them in bookshops, on occasion) it seems that a few rather obvious ideas are being milked ever more painfully to death. 

And yesterday morning, it was with horrified fascination that I listened on Radio 4 to somebody who called themselves a 'food futurologist' wittering on about 'popcorn, coated in white belgian chocolate, served with strawberries', and extolling the apparent virtues of cupcakes. Pitiful!

Tonight's Dinner:

Steamed and fried Gyoza with vinegar dressing

Celery Risotto

Chocolate Zabaglione

There are drawbacks ...

..to having kitchens in two different houses, in two different countries. And I don't just mean those occasions when reaching into the cupboard at a critical moment for sugar that I know I bought only a couple of days ago, only to remember that in fact the sugar is sitting in a different cupboard half a continent away (and the shops are now closed, and anyway, people are arriving for dinner in twenty minutes...so, improvise!)

No, the drawbacks can be more complicated than that. Like the evening before last, when I'd decided to make cream and walnut tart for dessert, and put the pastry shell into the pre-heated oven to bake, as I then focused on getting the cream reduction underway.
Except that I'd forgotten I wasn't in Italy, where the fan-assisted oven setting on the right-hand oven is two turns anti-clockwise from 'off'......which is what I did. In London, however, that setting starts the self-clean function going, which means that the temperature is raised to a planet-scorching level of intensity...and it was only as the distinctive self-cleaning-hot-metal smell wafted into my consciousness that I realised something might be wrong. 
By which time, the self-clean self-lock facility had also come into play (a little gizmo which prevents non-existent children from immolating themselves by opening the oven door during the self-clean process), and all I could do was watch helplessly through the glass panel as the pastry shell burnt to a crisp, and I wrestled in vain with the locked door, willing the oven to cool down sufficiently for me to get the bloody thing open. 
Which eventually it did....and it was just as I finally retrieved the sad and sorry burnt-offering that the cream - unwatched - effortlessly boiled over and flooded the entire hob.

It was (sigh-makingly) more like the Keystone Cops, than cooking.

Tonight's Dinner:

Steamed Prawn Won Ton.

Slow-roast Pork with Garlic & Star-anise; Spinach sautéed with Spring Onion

Chocolate Mousse, with fresh Raspberries