If I should die, think only this of me:

That there's some corner of a foreign field 

That is forever England. There shall be

In that rich earth, a richer dust concealed; 

A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,

Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,

A body of England's, breathing English air

Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,

A pulse in the eternal mind, no less

Gives somewhere back those thoughts by England given;

Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day

And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,

In hearts at peace, under an  English heaven.

For my Father

10 June 1928 - 2 November 2015

Prune & 'Armagnac' Tart

I've lost track of the number of versions of this recipe that I've come across - all are good, some are better than others. The flavours work perfectly together, and the velvety creaminess of the texture, if cooked correctly at low heat, is luxury incarnate! On one occasion, I remember serving this as dessert to 120 diners, at a banquet at Trinity House, and being inundated on the following day with messages of congratulation...all of which with due humility I passed silently on to Marco Pierre White (whose recipe, in essence this is). I've played around to a degree with the quantities in MPW's original, which I took from the pages of his improbably named 'Wild Food from Land & Sea' ; MPW is in general lousy when it comes to specifying quantities, and a common-sense filter is always advisable when translating his recipes from the page to the kitchen -  more often than not, his stated quantity 'sufficient for ten servings' would in fact comfortably feed an entire squadron.
Ramsay has a version which works almost as well as the MPW one, except that in Ramsay's version the filling is blitzed in a food processor before being poured into the tart shell - which has the, to my mind, unfortunate consequence of giving it the worrying appearance of brown sludge.
I've put 'Armagnac' in inverted commas in the title here, since although the trad title for the dish refers always to armagnac,  it would be nuts to use good armagnac for cooking, and instead a perfectly serviceable bog-standard cognac does perfectly well. Armagnac is for drinking.

For one eight inch tart, with accompanying sauce.

Ingredients:
1 x 8" shortcrust pastry tart shell; 140g stoneless prunes; 125g sugar; 75 ml French brandy;  6 egg yolks; 150ml milk; 350 ml cream; generous tsp of vanilla essence (or the scraping of half a vanilla pod, if feeling extravagent).

Method:

1.In a small pan, to 50g of the sugar add 75 ml water; bring to the boil, and simmer for one minute only over medium heat.

2. Dice the prunes into approx 1 cm dice and put in a small bowl. Add to these the sugar syrup and the brandy. Stir briefly, cover, and leave to macerate for at least four hours, and preferably overnight.

3. Blind-bake the tart shell at 180 degrees C, until the pastry has browned nicely. Reduce the oven temperature to 120 degrees C.

4. Mix together the egg yolks, cream, milk, remaining sugar, and vanilla.  Drain the prunes,  add the macerating liquid to the mixture in the bowl, and stir to ensure it is properly incorporated. Distribute the pieces of prune over the base of the pastry shell. Transfer the egg/cream mixture to a jug, and carefully pour into the tart shell as much of the mixture as you can manage to get in before it overflows - you should have about half of the mixture left over.

5. Bake the tart for an hour; the mixture will 'set' at this temperature, rather than bake.

6. While the tart is in the oven, pour the leftover mixture into a simmertopf or double boiler, and heat it gently, just sufficiently to cook the egg yolks.

Serve Tart and sauce while they are still warm (although served cold, they will still be pretty delicious!)

October Garden, late (Illustrated)

Glorious weather. No mists, but loads of mellow fruitfulness...largely in the form of gluts of quince and of sweet and succulent dark table grapes.

Carlo Fedeli, gazing benignly across the leaf-strewn surface of the lily pond

A chaotic mess of fallen leaves, most of which look far too pretty to be cleared away...

The palm-path, snaking beneath the pine trees

One of the ancient cypresses, garlanded with parthenocissus in its autumnal glory

The church spire, reflected in the pond

Hydrangea Quercifolia Alice, showing off

a late flowering Crinum Magowanii

Crisp, clear skies, and warm sunshine

Not all of it looks autumnal...some still looks positively green and lush...

Two members of the gardening crew

Tonight's dinner:

Asparagus Mousses

Boned Chicken, stuffed with prosciutto and fennel seed, spit-roast; braised broccoli stalks

Treacle tart, with Ginger ice-cream

Prawn Curry

A re-working of an old standard. This version is the result in part of some lack of concentration on my part, which meant that ingredients got missed out along the way and so were added in a rush towards the end (and it was found to be better), and and in part through a sense of economy - specifically, the use of the heads and shells to make a bisque-light to use in the finished dish rather than just water, as the traditional method suggests. The end result has a creamy texture and is completely delicious.

For two generous servings.

Ingredients: 300g medium sized prawns, with shells, and preferably also heads (frozen and pre-blanched are just as good in this recipe as fresh and uncooked - fresh prawns merely require slightly longer cooking once they are added, at the end of the recipe); 1 medium onion; 2 medium tomatoes; 2 tbs oil (approx - it partly depends on the size of pan you're using as to how much oil is needed); 2 cardamom pods & 2 cloves, lightly ground in a pestle; half tsp cinnamon; 1 green chilli; 2 tsp fresh ginger, peeled and finely chopped; 1 large garlic clove, minced; half tsp each of red chilli powder and coriander powder; quarter tsp each of turmeric and of garam masala;  half tbs cumin; half tbs tomato paste; 1 cup white wine.

Method:

1. Shell the prawns and remove their heads; liquidize the shells and heads along with the white wine, and then filter the mixture through a sieve lined with kitchen paper.

2. Heat the oil in a large saute pan, and once hot add to it the cardamom, cloves and cinnamon. Stir for about thirty seconds, then add the finely chopped onion.

3. Once the onion has softened and started to colour, after about five minutes, add the finely chopped tomatoes, along with the ginger and the garlic, and cook, stirring, for a couple of minutes, until the tomatoes start to break down.

4. Add the turmeric, garam masala, chilli and coriander powders, and cook for a further five minutes.

5. Add the tomato paste and cumin, along with the wine/shell mixture and the finely chopped green chilli, and stir until the liquid has been absorbed. Turn the heat to low, then cover the pan, and leave to cook for 10 minutes. If the mixture becomes too dry, add water as necessary.

6. Remove the lid and add the prawns. If they were raw, then cook them until they turn pink; if they were already pink, then it is merely necessary to heat them through. Add two generous pinches of salt - more if you wish.


Garnish with chopped fresh coriander, and serve with Basmati rice.

Sensory overload....

Normandy by rain. For most of the week, at any rate. It tipped down as we drove across to Rouen from Beauvais, at the start of the trip, and carried on intermittently for much of the rest of our time there - with a

L'Etang de l'Aunay - wonderful theatre, and excellent planting

 few breaks, which allowed us to trudge soggily around a breathtaking multitude of mostly wonderful gardens. Rouen was beams, and 59 steps to our front door, and an impossible kitchen - within an otherwise charming apartment - and an hallucinogenic light-show each evening on the front of the cathedral....but, generally Rouen was viewed as we left town first thing in the morning, for distant parts of the département, and again at the end of the day, as we trudged wearily home again. Sunday was devoted to a natural history excursion, when we went to observe some of the wildlife of St Pierre Azif in their natural habitat...and after that it was gardens all the way!

Miromesnil - where the lawns were mown to resemble parquet de Versailles

 And, what gardens!

Nothing disappointed, although inevitably some things shone less brightly than others. From the theatrical creativity at L'Etang de l'Aunay, through the exquisite aristocratic charm of Brécy and the tranquil and breathtaking perfection of Boutemont, all was spectacular. So much so, that any more of it would have been too much to be able to assimilate in such a short period.

Vasterival - vistas, vistas, and yet more vistas

We got picky on detail: in its polished perfection, Reux (the Normandy home of the Rothschilds) was perhaps too manicured...in general, there were too many dahlias (everywhere, practically: Canon, Galleville, Miromesnil, Boutemont, Jardin Plumes...it must be a Normandy staple)....and although undoubtedly impressive, the garden at Champ de Bataille lacks charm. At Miromesnil, the chateau provided a handsome background for the huge kitchen garden, where, through banks of asters and gauras and delphiniums, rows of fat pumpkins could be seen, ranged alongside cabbages, and tomatoes and beans, not to mention apples and pears and quince.

Galleville - Ducal fox terriers, and brioches heaped up before the blazing fire

 At Galleville, as rain swept across the garden, we lunched inside the chateau before a huge blazing fire, surrounded by serried ranks of mounted hunting trophies....and as we entered the hallway, a spanish Duke rather inexplicably appeared, with two deeply charming fox terriers at his heels, who then (the Duke, not the dogs, although they happily joined in) proceeded to lead us into completely the wrong part of the  chateau, before we managed to get back on track again (he mentioned that he had fifteen such terriers, and it seemed a shame he hadn't brought all of them with him, to swarm around his ankles like the cats of the Countess of Groan).

Brécy - the exquisite charm of a frail and elderly Duchess

 The garden at Brécy is perfection in every way...although Boutemont runs it a very close second, despite being quite different in style...and to see both of them in the same day was almost too much to take in.

Canon - yet more dahlias!

Some interesting design suggestions, and innovative techniques - the effectivesness of such dense mixed planting at L'Etang, and Vasterival, and Reux, for instance, and the dramatic effects produced by the 'transparent' pruning developed by Princess Sturdza at Vasterival - and lengthy lists  of new plants to hunt down (many splendid and hitherto unknown hydrangeas...some groundcovers and hedging plants...a few interesting climbers).

The polished perfection of the Chateau de Reux

 Restraint and the limits of hand luggage on Ryanair meant that I bought only one thing to bring back to Italy- a Miscanthus Zebrinus, which will form the centrepiece of one of the pergola borders. That, along with a renewed zeal to get the garden into shape once we were back, so the time since we got home has been significantly devoted to mowing and trimming and weeding....and the place is now more or less under control.

Boutemont - paradise!

All four-footeds were delighted that we were back; this had been a longer absence for us than normal, and for the first hour or so after we arrived home, the cats made a point of jumping through windows and making forbidden dashes through the house, just to demonstrate that they could...and the canine four-footed has been periodically wrapping himself around my legs all weekend, generally at very unhelpful moments when I've been in the middle of mowing, or hacking at tree branches, or hefting bags of weeds in the direction of the compost heap (or compost mountain, as it currently is).

Champ de Bataille - impressive in its splendour

It's good to be home.

Tonight's dinner:

Flamiche

Boned Chicken and Fave.

Peach Sorbet (we have a peach glut - the latest fruiting of the white peach trees was stripped yesterday, and even after having made ten kilos of jam, a challenging quantity still remains...)

Fettucine with raw broad beans

Ages ago, I was given copies of all of the River Cafe pocketbooks (Pasta, Vegetables, Fish, and Desserts)...and, having given them only a cursory glance, they were consigned to the bookshelves. I don't know why, but certain books of recipes seem to need to wait for 'their time', and until then they have no resonance for me. And that was how it was with these particular slim volumes, until earlier this summer, when I decided to have a proper look at the pasta volume. And I found within it a treasure trove of wonderful things. Of which, this is one...

For four servings.

Ingredients: fettucine for four (or, indeed any other pasta shape you might prefer to use - there are a few pasta sauces which definitely work better with particular shapes of pasta, but there aren't really very many which are like that, and I don't include this sauce within the very few which are); 1.5 kg broad beans - frozen is fine, and indeed arguably preferable, since these days vegetables are frozen almost as they come off the plant, and so are remarkably fresh in flavour (if using frozen beans, defrost them thoroughly several hours before you make this dish); 150g parmesan (you can use pecorino if you wish, but my preference is always for parmesan, which has a rounder flavour); 2 garlic cloves; 3 tbs basil leaves, chopped; juice of one lemon; 120 ml olive oil; salt.

Method:

1. In the food processor, blitz two-thirds of the parmesan, and then to this add two-thirds of the broad beans, along with the garlic, basil and 1 tsp salt. Process, until reduced to a rough puree.

2. Remove the mixture to a bowl, and slowly stir into it the olive oil and then the lemon juice.

3. Cook the pasta, and leave a few spoonfuls of cooking water in the pan when you drain the pasta. Add to this the bean mixture, along with the remaining whole beans, and mix quickly. Return the pasta to the pan, along with the sauce, and toss. Serve, and sprinkle with the remaining grated parmesan.

This week, in pictures...

Four-footed, hard at it, under the office table..

Boned quail, stuffed with celery and fennel and cream, with a dash of pernod, ready to go into the oven

Achingly-good....'Lila' by Marilynne Robinson; to have gone straight from this to 'This Little Life', by Hanya Yanagihara, which unfortunately  I did, was like going from 'King Lear' to 'Friends'.....the bookies who rate the latter as favourite for this year's Booker need their heads examined! 

Sunday morning, as viewed from the agrumi terrace

Four-footed, still hard at it...

Part of this year's crop...hazelnuts, almonds, and the apples from the Old Orchard...the newer apple trees haven't yet been picked, and the figs, peaches and raspberries go straight from the garden to the bowl. The kitchen currently looks like a dress rehearsal for harvest festival.

Four-footed. This bit came with sound effects of sonorous snoring....what my Grandfather would have called 'driving the pigs to market'.

Sunday morning, looking past the workshop and the Cycax. The searing heat has now definitely gone from the sun, as we enter the lovely mellow, golden period of autumn. Long may it last!

White peaches...small and succulent, and ready for picking. A peach, a handful of fresh raspberries, and a bowl of fatto-in-casa yoghurt, drizzled with honey....breakfast!

In fact, it is more comfortable this way round....and that bit of the table where a dog can rest his chin at just the right height is a very practical addition...

Tonight's dinner:

Tart of rocket and prawns.

Spit-roast guinea fowl, with lentils and guanciale.

Caramel apples, with caramel ice cream