Recipe: Peshwari Naan

To the San Lorenzo's for dinner on Saturday, where they excelled themselves in producing an Indian menu that rivalled Mumbai's finest  (in small.....since we had Pilau Rice, Aloo Gobi, and Chicken Tikka Masala). Our contribution was an offering of Peshwari Naan - a successful experiment,  and childishly satisfying to make, since they swell up gratifyingly when cooked and look exactly like they should, at the first time of trying. 

The first half of the evening resembled a Feydeau farce, as the SL's dining room is at the fulcrum of their apartment, and has half a dozen doors which open into it. Through which a dizzying array of people appeared and disappeared with great frequency, as we sat at table: a pint-sized neice, who'd been left with them for the afternoon, and appeared to have been forgotten by her parents; a teenaged daughter (and assorted friends) who was getting ready to go out to a party, (which, since this involved trying various clothes and different hairstyles, could have been the same person or an entirely different one each time she - or they - reappeared); and a brother-in-law....who eventually arrived to retrieve his abandoned offspring. To add to the theatrical effect, Paula  wore a sari, and Paolo an increasingly thunderous expression, as yet another door opened, to intrude upon his carefully prepared menu. All ended well, as the extras gradually peeled off, and calm descended upon an excellent dinner.

For five Peshwari Naan.

Ingredients: 250g Plain Flour; 2 tsp Sugar; half tsp Salt; half tsp Baking Powder; 120 ml Milk; 2 tbs Olive Oil; 30g Slivered Almonds; 1 tbs melted Butter. Filling: 70g Ground almonds; 35g Raisins; 1 tsp Sugar.

Method:

1. Combine Flour, Sugar, Salt, and Baking Powder in a bowl. Separately, mix together Milk and Oil, and pour into a well in the centre of the dry ingredients; using a fork, gradually draw the dry ingredients into the central pool of liquid, until all has been combined into a sticky ball of dough. Knead (either by hand or using a dough hook) for ten minutes or so, until the dough has become a soft, smooth ball.

2. Place in an oiled ball, cover with a damp cloth and leave in a warm place to 'prove' for an hour.

3. Divide the dough into five equal pieces and on a floured surface roll each piece into a circle approximately 10" in diameter.

4. Combine the filling ingredients in the food processor and briefly work until reduced to a fine powder.

5.Cover half of each dough circle with the powdered filling, leaving about an inch free round the edge, then brush the exposed edge with water, before folding each circle over, to enclose the filling fully. 

6. Roll each semi-circle out to make a tear-drop shape. Sprinkle with slivered Almonds, and place on a baking sheet under a hot grill for one or two minutes, until the Naan swells and the surface is spotted dark brown.

7. Before serving, brush each Naan with melted Butter.

We're back...

...and summer has arrived, in the meantime. The garden has burst into leaf, and the sun, as we sat on the terrace for coffee this morning was almost too hot for comfort. Bliss!

The week away was pretty busy. In all, more planes, and trains, and airports and stations than is desirable in such a short time.  "This" muttered the Technical Department, half way through the Great Trek from the ticket hall to Platform 28 in Rome Central Station "is like the hiking holiday from hell, interspersed with a few short spells on aeroplanes". He had a point. Much of the week seemed to be spent lugging bags to gate 110 at Gatwick North, or gate D87 at Schipol, or some out-of-the-way platform at the railway station in central Amsterdam. And ending up being diverted to Bologna on Thursday morning, when Pisa was closed for incoming flights due to fog! These things are sent to try us...

It wasn't all bad...dinner at the Garrick on Monday evening was memorable (thanks, Richard!), and on Wednesday evening, as we dined very well in the restaurant in the Muziekgebouw, looking through the windows at the rain-swept Amsterdam docks.

It's good to be home, though. And I think the four-footeds agree, as they work on demolishing the groups of narcissi which have appeared gloriously beneath the pine trees. Each casualty is added to those which have gone before, in a pewter jug in the kitchen....I might have to graduate to a bucket, at this rate! Dogs and highly-manicured gardens? Forget it!

Tonight's dinner:

Ravioli of lamb and parmesan, in a leek and tomato sauce. (Re-cyled from last night's main course, when our new friends from Via Carducci came to supper)

Grilled lamb chops with green beans (yes, I know - lamb, and lamb....but cooked so differently that I don't think it matters)

Limoncello panna cotta, with fresh blackberries.

Recipe: Soufflé base (sweet)

Completely different from the usual method for soufflé base, this version comes from Gaston Le Notre ( the late, and very great), and is one of the 'basic' recipes to be found at the front of the wonderful pâtisserie book he published in the seventies. The flour-to-milk ratio is very much higher than I've  found anywhere else, and in fact the process is more akin to making choux pastry than to making a custard. The result is much more robust than a soufflé made using a creme patissiere base - although not noticeably denser in texture, to the palate of the unwary diner - and will make the journey from oven to table with much less risk of deflating en route. Casting around, I find that the identical approach was suggested by Madame Saint-Ange, when she was publishing recipes around the end of the 1920's...so Le Notre wasn't making it up!

The first time I tried this method, it was a disaster, and the soufflé came out with the density of a pudding. I was tempted to think the method was wrong, but decided that it was worth trying again, on the basis that Le Notre was a fantastic technician, and it made no sense that he would have been advocating a process that didn't work. The trick is at the 'boiling' stage (see below); if you cook the flour too much, it produces a dense cowpat of stodge that will resist any attempt to rise in the oven. When I tried it again, and was much more careful, the result was perfect ....as it has been every time subsequently.

For enough soufflé base for two individual sweet  soufflés: half a cup of milk, 30g Sugar, 22g Flour, 2 medium Eggs, 10g Butter.

Method

1. In a bowl mix the Flour and Sugar with about 3 tbs of the Milk. 

2. In a saucepan, bring the remaining milk to the boil, add it to the Flour/Sugar/Milk mix and stir well, then return all to the saucepan.

3. Stirring vigourously with a whisk, bring the mixture to the boil, and cook until it visibly thiskens - probably about thirty seconds. Remove from the heat, stirring for a further ten seconds or so, then add to this the Butter; cover the pan with a lid, and leave for ten minutes.

4. After ten minutes whisk the melted Butter into the base, along with the 2 Egg yolks.

5. Add whatever flavouring ingredient you want to the base, and leave to one side until time to cook the soufflés; then whisk the egg whites and fold in as usual.

6. Cook the soufflés in a 180 degree C oven for fifteen minutes (no need to use a bain marie with this method)

Serve.

Stunning!

To Rome, for a rare opportunity to see the inside of the Palazzo Farnese. The French have been using the building as their embassy since 1874, and for the most part it remains resolutely inaccessible, apart from the odd few days a year when they're required by the Italian State to allow visitors into a few of the rooms - probably every third Thursday after epiphany, as long as it's raining and there isn't an 'r' in the month...I haven't actually been able to find out how it works, but since the French Ambassador confidently asserts that they let in around 8,000 visitors a year, I suppose one shouldn't disbelieve him.

A cynical interpretation of the current 'Open House', through until the end of next month, might be that the French are keen that their lease be renewed when it runs out in a little over twenty years from now, and so are being unusually accommodating. I couldn't possibly comment. What I can say, though, is that the place is stunning. Breathtaking. Wonderful. We were there, first thing yesterday morning, and for about an hour enjoyed the place in the company of perhaps a dozen other people, before the mass hordes descended just as we were departing.

As part of the event, a number of Farnese treasures had been borrowed back from far-flung musueums (although nothing much from the Louvre, which was surprising), and there was a series of very good portraits of various people associated with the history of the building. The highpoints of the experience, though, were Michelangelo's double height 'Salon d'Hercules', and, surpassing everything, the ceiling of the Carracci gallery. Which is beyond-description wonderful. Rich and brilliant, with a degree of technical mastery which simply leaves one gaping. When I first went into the gallery, the shutters were open, and the room was bright with morning sunlight - and by the time I went back for a second look, before leaving, somebody had found the light switch, the shutters had been closed, and the ceiling was bathed beautifully in a golden glow. Glorious - simply glorious!

And Rome was looking its springtime best, as well. Clear sky and warm sunshine, as we walked en route to the Farnese by way of Trajan's Column, the Wedding Cake, and the Campo dei Fiori...and afterwards, as we sat and basked in the Piazza Farnese, and drank coffee (and then prosecco) as we waited for  Charles to join us for lunch (by chance, he was also in Rome for the day, from Milan).
And in fact, at lunch it was almost too hot, with a table outside at Pierluigi, and as the sun moved round, the shade actually came as a welcome relief!

Tonight's Dinner:

Celeriac & Asparagus Terrine.

Pork Loin, stuffed with Emmental & Prosciutto; Parsnips, with Sherry & Walnuts.

Raspberry-vanilla Tarts.

Saturday...

A glorious day. Warm sunshine on my back, as I weeded round the bearded Irises, before giving them their annual feed of phosphate...Almond blossom is over, but now plum blossom is at full strength, and the peach blossom isn't far behind. Apricot blossom - arguably, the prettiest of the lot - is just beginning to stir, and the roses are putting on new growth at a rate of knots. 
The new planting for this year is just about completed, with the camellias and azaleas that went in last week rapidly followed by a whole lot of hostas and hemerocallis, which I'd ordered from a supplier in Rimini back at the end of January, and which unexpectedly arrived only a couple of days ago. With no fear of any further frosts, the more tender of the water lilies, which had to go indoors for the winter, have now been returned to the lily pond - although the temperature of the water is still cold enough that I didn't linger over the process of 'planting' them once more, but did an extremely quick in-and-out.

After a soul-enriching afternoon spent with wheelbarrow and hoe - with demands from the junior four-footed every two minutes that I throw for him the pine cone that he carefully placed in the middle of whatever I happened to be doing at the time, just in case I might miss it - tea was served beside the fire in the barn. As we sat,  the sky got darker and darker, in readiness for what felt like the first of the summer thunderstorms. Which I love. The heavens opened, thunder rolled and crashed, and I retired to a long hot bath, in the company of Elizabeth David ('Spices, Salt and Aromatics in the English Kitchen' ), as flashes of lightning periodically split the darkness beyond the bathroom window...

Tonight's Dinner:

Risotto of Funghi Porcini

Guinea Fowl with Garlic & Lemon; braised Leeks

Zabaglione

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.