The Spice of Life.....

I'm in the middle of Reay Tannahill's 'Food in History', a book that's been hanging around on the bookshelves for a very long time, but which has only now pushed itself to the front of the queue. The subject is fascinating, not least because the title leads one to expect a History of Food, whereas in fact what it's about is the influence that different kinds of food production over the ages have had on the diverse social and political development of mankind in the period since the end of the neolithic age. The author has a tendency to move between millenia with dizzying athleticism - within one paragraph concerned with the evolution of wine production, she skips effortlessly from the third to the first millenium B.C, and back again - and she resorts inevitably to the expedient of 'probably' happened, or 'might' have happened, or 'could' have happened, in the absence of any real evidence, rather too frequently for comfort. Not her fault, of course, since no evidence exists for the way in which the beneficial effects of the fermentation of grapes was identified, for instance, or the way that yeast could be used as a raising agent in making bread - but it does mean that she frames a lot of fundamental questions in these areas which she then has to leave dangling tantalisingly in mid-air.

One thing, though, which she does manage to communicate - almost as a by-product of her main thesis - is the stultifyingly monotonous diet that has been enjoyed by most people in all societies around the World from the end of the neolithic period, probably right up until a couple of centuries ago. What ended up on the table might have varied slightly in the course of the year, as different fruits and vegetables came into season, but essentially the fundamental elements in most peoples' diet would have remained unchanged from a few staple dishes week in, week out throughout the year, and effectively throughout their entire lives.
In our modern Marie-Antoinette tendency to eulogise the idyllic simplicity of peasant life in bygone days, a whole raft of recipe books is available these days which present a colourful tapestry of regional peasant delicacies from days of yore - the result being an idea in our minds that all of this rich and diverse culinary bounty featured regularly in said peasants' diet. Not so. Not so, then, and in many peasant communities, equally not so now. You ate what you could grow - animal or vegetable - and what that tended to be was a small number of familiar and reliable things: chickens, and a pig, on the fauna side of things, and aubergines, tomatoes and onions (for example) on the flora. The peasant housewife learned a handful of recipes at her mother's knee - and by a handful, I mean something like five or six - and that would be what she fed her family unwaveringly, repeating the same things ad infinitum over the years. Oh, and the repertoire would always include a special culinary 'turn' to be brought out on special occasions - like the 'Oeufs Mimosa' that Marcelle Pons would religiously produce on high days and holidays in St Michel par Le Caylar (where the Belfortes used to live), or the Tiramisu that has been served by the Brancolis' contadina neighbour on every single occasion - and there have been many - when they've been invited to dinner over the past fifteen years.

It was the same also in the Greek Islands, when we first lived there back in the seventies - the bulk of all food was produced locally, which meant endless dishes concocted from peppers and aubergines and tomatoes... and after several months, the prospect of yet another Greek Salad was enough to induce dreams of hamburgers, and tomato ketchup, and chips! Not quite as bad, though, as the description quoted by Reay Tannahil and originally produced by Sir Alfred Zimmern, when he said of Athenian menu-structure that it consisted of two courses: .."the first, a kind of porridge, and the second...a kind of porridge".

How wonderfully, decadently better off we are, these days, when it is perfectly normal to go an entire month - or more - without having to repeat a single dish once, and the idea of constantly introducing new recipes into the repertoire is something cooks do as a matter of course. Which naturally justifies the constant and ongoing purchase of more recipe books (yes. ..guilty!), because otherwise, we could well be confronted with a future that consists of little better than..well...a multiplicity of porridge. This weeks arrivals in the repertoire have been Farfalle with a sauce of lemon, garlic, and crushed hazelnuts, and a recipe for sole fillets stuffed with shrimp. I don't think porridge is yet threatening from too close a range...

Tonight's dinner...

Is at Moreton Terrace.

Recipe: Poor Man's Ratatouille

In fact, this might more accurately be described as 'lazy' ratatouille, since it leaves out only a few of the ingredients from the classic version, but omits quite a few of the step from my preferred approach, and thus takes less than half the time. The introduction of Orange rind towards the end takes it in a noticeably different direction from the provencal flavours of the original; if this particular divergence offends, you can just leave it out....

For four, as a side serving.

Ingredients: 1 large Aubergine; 2 medium Courgettes; quarter of a cup of Olive Oil; 1 medium clove of Garlic, peeled and finely chopped; 1 medium White Onion , diced; 5 or 6 Spring onions, sliced thinly; 4 Plum Tomatoes, roughly chopped; 4 sprigs of Thyme; 2 sprigs of Rosemary; 1 Bay Leaf; grated rind of one medium Orange; half a cup of chopped Basil leaves.

Method:

1. Cut the Courgettes and Aubergine into half inch cubes; heat the Oil in a large pan, and once it is very hot, sear the cubed vegetables for three to four minutes, until lightly browned all over. Add Garlic, Onion and Spring Onion, and continue cooking, stirring continuously, for a further five minutes.

2. Add Tomatoes, herbs(apart from the chopped Basil) and Orange rind; reduce heat to medium, and cook, stirring, for about ten minutes more.

3. Remove the Bay Leaf, stir in the Basil, and correct the seasoning. Stir thoroughly, and keep warm until ready to serve.

I woke up...

....yesterday morning with Gordon Ramsay. Not an encouraging image - but, to be more precise and to reassure those of a nervous disposition, he was merely pontificating on the radio. I half listened, and as he appeared to be saying that restaurants should only serve fruit and vegetables when they were in season, it seemed to have a kind of logic. I mean, strawberries and peaches out of season are dire - and increasingly ubiquitous - and I fully agree it's time that we reversed the trend of ' everything available, all the time' since it appears to be sending overall standards of quality down the pan as part of the process.

But, no - apparently, this wasn't what he meant at all. As the Technical Department - who had been listening properly - subsequently communicated to me. It was an entire diatribe, somewhat inarticulately linked with the idea of food miles and global warming, and introducing the concept of punitive fines for establishments which served anything outside the prescribed dates. "Nasty little fascist", was probably the mildest - and pretty much the only printable - comment from the TD, who got really quite aerated about it. Putting aside all images of SS-style raids from jack-booted 'elf'n'safety 'operatives' on hapless culinary establishments who might be serving raspberries or mushrooms or plums outside the period formally recognised by the by-laws of Kidderminster or Burnham-on-Crouch, it seems to me to be a fundamentally witless position to try and adopt. If the underpinning of the argument is to address global warming, then clearly it would mean banning anything which isn't in season in the UK, ever - like lemons, and avocado, and aubergine, and peppers, and tuna, and garlic, and oranges, and melons....the list is endless. Presumably it would apply equally to wine and all forms of alcohol produced further away than a bike ride from where it is likely to be served? Whoops - not sure how well that sits with your Threshers deal, Gordon!

And there's a fine irony to the fact that Ramsay's first restaurant, before he took over the erstwhile premises of Tante Claire, was called 'Aubergine' - which by his current reckoning should be off-limits all year round!

Anyway, it's perfectly clear what's going on here. Gordon is trying to do a Jamie, and establish his social-pioneering credentials in claiming the relevant bit of the moral high ground, exactly as Jamie did (some might say equally fatuously) over the subject of school dinners. And Dymphna or Clarissa - or whatever Gordon's fluffy-headed PR person might be called - observed Delia so clearly dropping the ball the other week, when questioned about the political correctness of buying mid-winter beans from Kenya, and they thought they saw an opportunity. Oh dear. Not Thought Through. On any level actually, since a brief glance at the menu currently on offer at Ramsay's restaurant in New York reveals it positively overflowing with things like perigord truffles, pine nuts, and iberian ham, and his establishment in Grosvenor Square is offering swordfish, caviar, and tuna - all straight from the Thames, no doubt

It's a very complicated issue, and clearly one which is beyond the abilities of Dymphna or even Gordon himself to address in any sensible way. Two central themes do emerge, though: firstly, there should be much greater emphasis on improving the quality of the produce which is generally available to us (yes, I know that wasn't what he was talking about, but it is implicit in considering questions of things being available seasonally, and is a personal hobbyhorse of mine), and secondly, to think that the problems of the World will be solved by shutting down International Trade is merely facile. We cripple third-world economies in the process of hugging to ourselves our little-Britain smugness? I don't think so......

Back to the kitchen, Gordon - once you've extracted your foot from your mouth, that is - and stick to rattlin' dem pans! You might look marginally less of a twit, that way......

Tonight's Dinner:

Asparagus Mousse

Veal Burgers, served with sweet & sour Courgettes

Lemon & Blackberry Burnt Creams

Recipe: Amaretto Soufflé

Quick, simple, and elegant. The texture of this soufflé is agreeably chewy, from the presence of the chopped almonds, and the flavour hit from the liqueur contained within the biscuit base gets a thumbs-up every time. As a trick whenever making individual soufflés, the presence of an alcohol-soaked layer of cake is something always to remember - with the layer of cake either being put in the centre of the soufflé, as Alain Ducasse advises, or in the base, as in this recipe (which is marginally less fiddly). Pierre Hermé uses a variation on this theme with his light chocolate sponge discs, for use in either chocolate tarts or chocolate soufflés. However you prefer to do it, it introduces an 'event' into the dish which otherwise can seem too much on one note.

For two individual soufflés.

Ingredients: 40g slivered Almonds; 1 tablespoon of Sugar (or Splenda - works just as well in this recipe); 150 ml Milk; 15g Butter; half tablespoon of Plain Flour; 2 Eggs; 6 Amaretto Biscuits; 2 tablespoons of Amaretto Liqueur; half a teaspoon of good Vanilla Essence.

Method:

1. Heat the oven to 220 degrees C.

2. Put the Almonds in a small saucepan, along with half the Milk, and half of the Sugar (or Splenda). Briefly bring to the boil, then reduce heat and let simmer for a minute or two. Then leave to cool down.

3. In a double-boiler or zimmertopf, melt the Butter and stir into it the flour; using a hand whisk, gently stir in the remaining Milk. Heat, stirring occasionally until the mixture thickens (about five minutes) then beat in the two Egg Yolks.

4. Combine this mixture with the Almond-Milk-Sugar mixture; add the Vanilla Essence and half of the Amaretto Liqueur, and process the whole thing for a minute in a liquidizer or food processor.

5. Divide the Amaretto Biscuits and the remaining Liqueur between two greased ramekins (or sprayed with Trennwax) , carefully spooning the liquid so that it is absorbed by the Biscuits.

6. Beat the Egg Whites until firm, along with the remaining Sugar (or Splenda) ; fold in the soufflé base, and divide the mixture between the two ramekins, on top of the soaked biscuits. Put the ramekins in a bain marie and bake for 10 minutes in the pre-heated oven

Serve

May....

....has started in a storm of activity. Well - for us, at any rate. In fact, the first of the month, which for everybody else in Italy is an annual holiday, in this household is the day in the year when we forget that the whole place is closed down, and invariably have forgotten to provision in advance......I don't know the reason for the mental blockage, but the process of forgetting happens every year, as regular as clockwork. The provisioning aspect would have mattered less, this year, were it not for the fact that my parents were arriving that day for a visit.......and menu plans for the weekend were instantly thrown into complete disarray. Quick thinking and recourse to the store-cupboard ended up with a scratch supper of Rabbit Terrine, Sage & Onion Risotto, and Vanilla Apple Tarts. Honour was just about preserved!

Dinner was preceded by a stroll down to the river, and around the regional Italian Food show that had taken up temporary residence in the Loggia dei Banchi, just beside the Commune. In the evening sunlight, we wandered from stall to stall, sampling cheeses - in general, not a highlight of Italian cuisine, and frankly there were no surprises on this occasion - and Salami, and various more or less exotic alcoholic beverages. I ended up investing in a Salami which rejoiced in the name of Mulette a Barolo (apparently made from a strain of wild pig) and a bottle of Crema di Mandorle, which was like a turbo-charged version of Orgeat, and would definitely not merely have blown the bloody doors off ......

Friday: to Florence, and the Library at San Lorenzo. Its eccentric opening schedule has meant that I've never actually seen it before, and the visit was long overdue. And splendid, it was! From the majesty of the staircase, bizarrely encased within a space of blind walls, so that its theatrical downward sweep ends up going nowhere, to the calm of the Library itself. It left us pondering how Wren could possibly have recreated the space so perfectly in Greenwich and Cambridge given the tenuous basis for any knowledge he might possibly have had of San Lorenzo's existence. As yet, the riddle remains unsolved. Lunch - of course - at Camillo: lack of imagination meant that yet again I had fried rabbit, which is so delicious there, followed by a Torte di Riso - the texture of which prompted research in Pradelli as soon as we were back in Pisa, to find out more. This is yet another of those dishes that smacks of times long past, the idea of which is always so fascinating.....More on this at a later date, I think (being mindful of the limited powers of concentration of some readers in Stoke Poges, who have been known to complain about the length of posts...)

Saturday: a gardening day. Everything is responding splendidly to the arrival of summer, and the place is festooned with cascades of white roses (Mrs Herbert Stevens; City of York; Sombreuil; Mme Alfred Carriere; Paul's Perpetual White...) as well as Irises, Arum Lilies, Marie Pavie, snowdrifts of Jasmine blossom, and the first of the year's crop of Passion Flowers. In addition to hacking and slashing on an industrial scale, to ensure that we don't end up drowning in floriforous vegetation, I found time to plant a Bergamot Tree (Dario had sent it from Sicily, where he was apparently filming a documentary for National Geographic along with A.A.Gill - how that came about, I haven't the faintest idea!) and spraying the Persimmon Flowers with a noxious insecticide that I hope will stunt the crop, and mean we don't have to deal with several thousand over-ripe persimmons next autumn! Otherwise, the lemon trees are all showing an incredible crop, this year, and I am extremely proud of the 33 fruit (as yet quite tiny) which are gracing the branches of the White Peach tree. As a noisy backdrop to all of this - much sawing and hammering - the Technical Department is working on enclosing the central section of the Loggia in a thousand metres of trellis, all of it painted an elegant copper-oxide green, just like the railings outside Apsley House.

Sunday: To Brancoli, to visit the beautiful Crusader Church of San Giorgio, and then down the hill to inspect the gardens and the vineyard. All looking wonderful....from the rose pergolas, to the wild orchids, to the stunning display of wisteria (variously white, purple, and pink), and of course the vines, bringing on this year's embryonic vintage. We drank some of the 2005, to accompany a perfectly barbecued tagliata, and had the first (Italian) al fresco dinner of the year, looking out and across the valley, down towards the lights of Lucca twinkling far off in the distance. Eventually, in true tired-but-happy style, we meandered homeward down the hill at the end of the evening, laden with the usual ill-gotten gains of Brancoli Marmalade, and Brancoli Olive Oil, and several demi-johns of Brancoli wine......

Life isn't all awful!

Tonight's dinner:

Scrambled Eggs with Smoked Salmon

Roast Beef, with Turnips roast in Goose Fat (Oh, to be in England...!)

Amaretto Soufflés

Recipe: Chicken with Porcini & Marsala

Who could resist this combination? The seductively earthy tones of porcini, along with Marsala, in all its rich complexity. In Italy, a standard chicken from the local Polleria will have enough flavour to do justice to the dish - but I suspect that in the UK you'll need to shell out for a free-range bird if you want something with sufficient flavour to punch in the same weight as the other ingredients here. The recipe is very straightforward, good enough for a dinner party, and robust enough that you can do the entire thing in advance, and just reheat gently when the time comes to serve it. Since there's a lot going on in this particular dish, then I think it goes best with a vegetable which is plain but good - broccoli, for example, or green beans (something which has a slight crunch to it)

For Four:

Ingredients: 1 Chicken, cut into eight pieces; 3/4 Cup of dried Porcini; 1 oz Butter; 1 tablespoon Olive Oil; 1 medium White Onion, finely chopped; Seasoning; 1/2 Cup of Flour; 3 fl oz Marsala.

Method:

1. Put the Porcini in a heat-proof bowl, cover them with about a pint of boiling water, and leave to steep for twenty minutes or so. After they have soaked for the appropriate time, drain the Porcini through a sieve held over another bowl, to catch the soaking liquid; rinse the Porcini under running water to remove any grit, then chop finely on a board. Place a piece of kitchen paper in the sieve and filter the soaking liquid through it into another bowl or jug, and reserve to use later.

2. Over medium-high heat, melt the Butter with the Oil in a heavy casserole (one that has a lid). Roll the Chicken pieces in Flour, and put them in one layer in the casserole. After two or three minutes - by which time they will have browned on the underside - turn them over, and sprinkle them with the chopped Onion, and add appropriate seasoning. Lightly stir the Onion in, as the underside of the Chicken pieces brown in turn.

3. After a couple of minutes more, add the chopped Porcini, and the Marsala. Let the Marsala bubble slightly in the heat, and stir everything together. Pour over about half of the Porcini soaking liquid (discard the rest, once the recipe is completed), and once the liquid is bubbling, turn the heat down to low and place the lid on the casserole.

4. Leave to cook for fifty minutes or so, by which time the Chicken will be very tender. Check from time to time to see that the casserole is not dry (I find it isn't, but it will depend on the fit of the lid and pan you're using); if it needs more liquid, then add some more of the reserved Porcni soaking liquid.

5. just before serving, lift the Chicken pieces out onto heated serving plates, and pour the cooking juices into a fat strainer; leaving the fat in the strainer, pour the 'sauce' into a small saucepan, and reduce for a minute or so over high heat - you just need a spoonful or so of sauce for each serving - then divide the sauce between the Chicken pieces and serve.

Riga...

...on a Friday night, is enough to make one feel ashamed of being British!

I hadn’t before been aware of its reputation as a booze-fuelled mecca for stag-night parties from the UK…..but that is definitely what it has become. The combination of cheap flights and cheap alcohol means that the streets of Old Riga at weekends are given over to groups of blobby-looking Brits – youths for the most part, although some hen parties are in evidence as well – who are clearly out to get as wasted as they can manage in as short a time as possible. Already by eight in the evening, some of them can be seen weaving unsteadily around the cobbled streets, clearly the worse for wear.
And equally depressing is the idea that presumably one from amongst each of these groups of nerdish-looking lumps is the object of somebody’s affection, and is about to walk – or weave? – their way up the aisle as somebody’s lifetime commitment. Yes, I know beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and that inside each of these deeply unattractive individuals is probably a truly beautiful person – but then, if they are truly beautiful people, what are they doing behaving in quite such an unattractive way?

The power of the stag-night pound has shaped business development in the Old Town such that by late evening, as night is eventually falling, as one walks through the winding little streets, past medieval architectural gems, the incongruous scent in the air is that of the serious party-goer’s friend: kebabs.

What makes it worse is that it’s easy to see what Riga has been and might be again. The town is deeply charming – if a little self-consciously so at times – and the centre of the town is an amalgam of the prettiest elements of Stockholm and Amsterdam, with the occasional example of Russian Neo-classicism thrown in for good measure. The northern sky is striking – going on for ever and ever - and the view of the town alongside the expanse of the river revives dim memories of the Hanseatic League and Riga’s historic importance in centuries past as a major trading port. The low skyline, frequently pierced by domes and spires, is straight from the stories of the brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen – slightly marred by only one Stalinist profile, soaring skywards, as an inescapable reminder of Latvia’s more recent unfortunate history. The people here refer often to ‘The Occupation’, and memories of that period and all that it meant are clearly never far from the surface. More than one person I’ve spoken to has expressed concern about Russia’s current intentions and whether the Latvians might once again be on the receiving end of Russian aggression – they see it as a real and worrying threat. People are nervous of Russia flexing its military muscle – and you can understand why they might be…

I tried, and signally failed, to find anywhere to eat in the Old Town that was serving properly traditional Latvian food. Presumably, all the old businesses disappeared during the long period of Russian occupation – and when the Russians left, the newly liberated taste was resolutely for things Western……with all the worst that that means in the shape of McDonalds and TGI Fridays. In the end I made do with a steak house on the Royal Square, where I sat and drank German Beer, and quietly revelled in the fact that it was the first time this year I’d dined al fresco, and in the fact that although it was well past nine o’clock in the evening, daylight was only now just starting to fade from the cloudless sky. I would have stayed longer, except that a group of blobbies materialised at the table behind me and started calling raucously for multiple bottles of Veuve Cliquot. Time to go…

Tonight’s dinner:

Spaghetti alla Carbonara
Scaloppini with Cream and Orange Sauce; Braised Fennel

Pear Clafouti