Respite...

...from the rain. Days on end of it. And yesterday, being May Day, and a public holiday, it redoubled efforts, and bucketed down the entire time. So, of course, this morning (not a public holiday) dawned clear, bright, and sunny.

The rain must have carried on late into the night, as the garden was still dripping when I took the four-footeds out first thing, and drops of water glistened in the sunlight across the shrubs and the lawns. And the garden, of course has loved it....in general, I think I've never seen it happier, after the cold weather in February despatched hordes of evilly-intentioned bugs, and then weeks on-end of glorious rain has soaked into the ground. There are thousands upon thousands of buds on all of the roses...

..the bearded irises all fat with promise..jasmines already heavy with blossom, and trachelospermum about to break out in carpets of flowers...

                                                                                                                                                                                

  

We think (for which read 'fingers crossed') we've found a prodotto which deals with rose chafer beetles, those little b******s which last year chewed most of the roses into tatty oblivion as soon as they flowered. I freely admit I am not a green gardener, although I'll happily try the 'green' option as a first go at any garden blight. But thereafter, if the problem persists, I'll reach for the industrial product with no hesitation whatsoever. Which is why I dutifully watered nemotodes into the lawn last year, as the politically correct method of dealing with chafer bugs. The Technical Department thought it the extreme of emperors-new-clothes, as in fact it was difficult to see that there was actually anything inside the nemotode container before dutifully adding water to the watering can and carefully watering diluted air into what I thought were the affected areas. Complete waste of time, of course, as we came across our first chafer bugs several weeks ago - exactly at the time one would expect them -  and so sought help from that nice chap with the limp who runs the vivaio up at Gello. Bingo! Or, so it turned out. After last year's failure, I was sceptical, but dutifully made the first application to the entire rose population in the garden about ten days ago. And for the past week, the only chafer bugs we've been picking off the blooms are either dead or very nearly so. And not a shredded rose bloom in sight!

Oh, and it isn't entirely un-pc, as, used carefully, it apparently shouldn't have any harmful effects on the bee population either. Which matters.

In Italian, the stuff is called 'Axoris Concentrato', and the active ingredient is something called thiamethoxam. Having been in despair about these foul pests, this time last year, and found many other people on the web similarly at a loss, this has been a major discovery!

So, we're now due several days of sun, which will mean weed-pulling on a grand scale. The noxious things sprout prolifically in the rain, but with the advantage that as long as weeding takes place soon afterwards, they pull out of the wet ground as though from softened butter.

And the other thing at the moment, of course, is the scent. For several weeks, as the barn was garlanded with wisteria, we had that heady smell wafting over the terrace....and as that has passed, the smell now is of orange blossom, both from our own trees outside the office window, as I sit here at the machine, but also the scent which wafts in downstairs from the trees which hang over the garden walls on the other side of the lane. And the scent of jasmine coming in from the courtyard, outside the dining room windows.. and the heady smell from the roses, which are starting to bloom thickly on the entrance pergola ...

OK. Weeding summons...

Tonight's Dinnner:

Phyllo Tarts with Chicken Livers and Mushrooms, in Marsala Cream

Veal Chops, grilled with Onions, and garlic-roast Tomatoes

Bitter Orange Soufflés

Spiced Kumquat Ice Cream

An adaptation from something I tried first of all with some chinotti in syrup that the Pauli gave us at New Year - chinotti are a small citrus, which I think one is supposed to spear with a cocktail stick and eat carefully (beware heavy drips of syrup!) along with a cup of coffee, but which in fact are too sweet for modern taste to do anything of the kind. Much better to cut a couple of them into fine dice and add, along with a spoonful of syrup, when churning some homemade vanilla ice cream. The end result is delicious. As it is with the spiced kumquat version. The Brancolis gave us a bag of kumquats from their tree when they came to dinner, several weeks ago, to which I decided to give the same treatment. Simmered  for twenty minutes in syrup (for one pound of kumquats, use two cups of water and one of sugar) to which has been added five cloves, three crushed star anise, half a tablespoon of cinnamon and a teaspoon of vanilla, the kumquats should then be bottled; reduce the syrup by about half, until noticeably thickened, then strain and cool slightly before pouring over the bottled fruit, along with a quarter cup of brandy. Seal, shake to mix the syrup and brandy, and refrigerate for a fortnight before use.

To make the ice cream:

For four servings:

Ingredients: 6 egg yolks; 250 ml milk; 250 ml cream; 50g sugar; half a vanilla pod, or a teaspoon of good vanilla essence; 2 kumquats, preserved as above, along with a tbs of their syrup.

Method:

1. Heat the milk and cream together in a bain marie or simmertopf. If using vanilla bean, then carefully scrape out the innards and add them, along with the scraped bean, to the combined milk and cream.

2. Beat together the egg yolks and sugar until light yellow in colour, and thickened. To this, add the heated milk and cream, mix, and return to the simmertopf. If using vanilla essence, add it now. Cook over gentle heat, stirring constantly,  until thickened sufficient to coat the back of a spoon, then return to the mixing bowl to allow to cool down.

3. Once cooled, remove the vanilla bean (if used) and churn in the ice cream machine. At the start of churning, add the kumquats, finely diced, and their syrup. Continue as for making any ice cream.

Enough Rain (Ed.) !

January was great....perfect for pruning and getting the garden in order. February was The Big Freeze, when I sorted out the attic. In March, it was warm and sunny, and we thought about dining al fresco very soon. And in April....it has rained. And rained, and rained, and rained. 

The garden has loved it. Now looking verdant and lush....and in the odd rain-free moments, when it's been possible to get out there and do something, the weeds have pulled out of the wet soil perfectly. But, really...after thre weeks of almost daily deluge....it's enough!

Ok, there have been moments of blue sky and sunshine. From time to time. Which has also been good news for the garden. In fact, the garden is having a fine old time of it. I could just do with a little lazing-in-the-sun opportunity, book-in-hand, from time to time. Which doesn't seem too much to ask.

We managed coffee on the terrace this morning, and in fact today's forecast was - unusually - for no rain at all. Ha! As if! The sun has just now emerged once more, after yet another short, sharp cloudburst.

Oh, well....

Tonight's Dinner:

Bouchées à la Reine

Bass, with Pancetta; Spinach with Lemon.

Coffee Soufflés

Salmon Mousse with Tarragon Sauce

Simple, quick, reliable (as long as you respect the proportions to the letter, otherwise it won't unmould properly, but will merely collapse dispiritedly onto the plate!)...on its own, this mousse is perfectly serviceable, but a little one-note-ish; with the addition of a chilled tarragon sauce, though, it is lifted to a whole other level. The original for the mousse came from Evelyn Lauder's rather alarmingly day-glo pink 'In Great Taste'...which actually has a number of  good things inside, if you can make it past the front cover.

For four individual mousses:

Ingredients: 450g Salmon Fillet; 2 sprigs of Dill; 8g powdered gelatine; quarter cup of tomato puree; 2/3 cup of Sour Cream (or creme fraiche); 1/2 cup plain Yoghurt; half a medium onion; zest and juice of a medium lemon; seasoning. For the sauce: 1 cup of fish stock (from powder is fine); half a cup of white wine; half a cup of cream; a handful of finely chopped tarragon.

Method:

1. With a sharp knife, remove the skin from the salmon, then cover the fish with water in a shallow pan, add the dill, and poach gently for about six minutes until cooked through. Remove the fish, to cool, and discard the poaching liquid and dill.

2. Add the gelatine to about 50 ml warm water in a simmertopf, or a bain marie,  and stir whilst dissolving over medium heat.

3. Put all of the ingredients (apart from those for the sauce) into a food processor and blend throughly. Adjust seasoning as appropriate. Then divide the mixture between four ramekins, and chill in the fridge until set - probably four hours or so (or longer, if you want to be on the safe side).

4. Combine all of the sauce ingredients, apart from the tarragon,  in a small saucepan and reduce over medium heat for fifteen or twenty minutes until the consistency is like thick cream. Taste for seasoning and adjust as necessary (you won't need any if using commercially made stock), and stir in the sauce the chopped tarragon. Allow to chill.

Unmould onto cold dishes, and spoon the sauce over the top to serve.

Somebody...

...has been moving things around in my store-cupboards. I suppose it could have been me, but the jury's out on that one. In any event, the upshot was a unintended culinary experiment at the end of last night's dinner. 

I and the four-footeds had collected the Technical Dept from the airport, where he'd flown in on the last flight from London. The four-footeds are keen on the airport - lots of interesting people to investigate, and things happening, and generally they're so engrossed in it all (and, inevitably, facing the wrong way at the appropriate moment) that when whoever it is they've come to meet actually arrives, they take only vague notice, as they peer past them at some deeply intriguing bit of airport flotsam. 

We'd got home. The mustard-coated lamb had gone into the Mrs-Kafka-Hotter-than-Hades oven, as I gently re-heated ratatouille, and got on with Fettucine Alfredo. A half a bottle of merlot later, and it was time to address dessert: zabaglione (to which the TD is quite partial). Four egg yolks, a quarter of a cup of sugar, half a cup of marsala, and about five minutes with a hand whisk, over medium heat, in a simmertopf. Nothing could be more straightforward, and, since I've done it a million or so times before, something  I can do in my sleep. Or so I thought.

The marsala bottle I have on the go (not to be confused with the bottles in store in the pantry, for future use) lives in the bottom of the pull-out to the left of the hob, where all of the heavy bottles live which are on-call for use on a regular basis: cointreau, vinegars, flavoured oils...that sort of thing. The Marsala bottle lives at the front of the pull-out, and is distinct from all its neighbours by being tall, with a long neck, and a screw top. So, of course, I don't need to read the label on the bottle when I reach for it, but merely measure out the appropriate quantity from inside, and return the bottle to the cupboard.

Which is what I did. And it was only as I was about to pour the dense and frothy zabaglione into the waiting glasses, several minutes later, that the synapses snapped into action, and I made the connection between the elusive aroma that had been bothering me as I whisked, and the fact that the newish bottle of balsamic vinegar in the pull-out also has a long neck and a screw top. Which I checked, immediately. Only to discover the marsala bottle, untouched, and mysteriously not in its usual place but instead nestling innocently at the back of the cupboard, next to the lime oil.

History is full of instances of amazing discoveries which have happened by accident: Marconi and his spilled acid, for example, or the accidental discovery of saccharin. I can report here that the use of balsamic vinegar in zabaglione does not rank amongst these. Put quite simply, the end result is disgusting. "Try adding some sugar", counselled the TD. So I did...and the result was still disgusting. Worthy only of the drain. Which is where it was swiftly despatched.

Oh, well...

Tonight's Dinner:

Chicken Liver Parfaits with Hollandaise.

Salmon fillets, pan-fried and served with buerre blanc; braised fennel.

Pears, poached in sauternes and served chilled.

Celeriac Purée with tapenade

This is so straightforward, it isn't even worth writing out as a recipe. Simply peel and cut up the celeriac, then cook in salted water until tender, exactly as you would for potatoes. Drain, and puree in the food processor. A few minutes before you're ready to serve it, re-heat gently in a saucepan in which you've melted a generous amount of butter (about an oz per serving) and thoroughly mix in a heaped teaspoon of tapenade. That's it. The tapenade gives an edge and some complexity which the celeriac otherwise lacks - I find celeriac purée tends to be delicious at first bite, but by the third mouthful, it's definitely getting a bit 'samey'.  
We had this last night along with a simple dish of grilled lamb cutlets, but it would go well with practically any roast, or could form an interesting base for croquettes (mixed with cheese or minced chicken, for example.)

Tonight's dinner:

Artichoke 'Fonds' stuffed with pork and parmesan.

Fiorentina, with parmesan and rocket.

Baked lemon cream, with blackberries.

Garden update

Glorious weather!

Blossom everywhere you look: the nectarine and apricot trees have finished already, and the almond blossom is almost over; plum and peach is still getting into its stride, with pear, quince and cherry soon to follow..

The crocuses are done for the year - we had a great white carpet of them around the lilacs and camellias, beside the entrance walkway - although (perhaps a little strangely) the narcissus are still just on the verge of bursting into flower...hundreds and hundreds of them, lining the grass path which winds its way under the pine trees.

And everywhere, massed clumps of violets have appeared; they grow here naturally, and although we've had some each year in spring; this year, they've gone completely crazy..

Three magnolias are flowering generously, and doing so well that

I think I might get some more - of the slower growing varieties - to plant alongside 

the (still to be constructed...la Roma non era construita nel una giornata) new pergola beside the north lawn.

The doors to the garden stand open right through until nightfall, every day, which pleases the four-footeds enormously.

Tonight's Dinner:

Pork Casarecci

Roast Lamb, with Gratin of Courgettes

Chocolate Tart, with cassis sauce