For the recipe, go to http://www.pomiane.com/2007/01/recipe-flamiche-la-pomiane.html
Tonight's dinner:
Flamiche(s)
Pork loin, pot roast in red wine vinegar, with bay leaves; brussels sprouts and celery, in butter and parmesan
Pears poached in red wine, lemon and cinnamon, with mascarpone
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| The version made with shortcrust pastry |
For the recipe, go to http://www.pomiane.com/2007/02/recipe-aubergine-parmesan-tart.html , where the low carb option is given, using a phyllo shell rather than shortcrust pastry.
We've been (yet again) flooded...
Moving house can't come soon enough!
Tonight's dinner (still without hot water, two days later):
Tomato tarts (from a recipe loosely based on something by Alain Ducaisse)
Bavese (pasta) with smothered onions
Fresh pineapple, with generous servings of mascarpone
I'd say it's on the glamorous side...
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| Looking into the Office |
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| Upper Staircase |
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| Looking down, from the Lower Staircase (awaiting bookcases) |
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| Master Bedroom (woodstove still in pieces) |
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| Looking into Ingresso |
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| Looking outwards from the Salone |
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| Lower Staircase |
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| Glimpse of an unfinished Bathroom |
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| Looking into the Kitchen-to-be Tonight's Dinner: Melanzane alla Parmigiana Courgette Risotto |
I find Tamasin Day-Lewis excruciating. I'm unclear whether it's the gushy, cringe-worthy name-dropping which peppers her text, or the hearty jolly-hockey-sticks aggression with which she 'throws' ingredients around (clearly, she can't just 'add', or 'place', or 'sprinkle' anything, but it has to be the subject of the sort of physical violence which leaves me feeling exhausted, and with a sense that her kitchen must generally resemble the aftermath of the Somme...)
However...
When it comes to recipes, she's actually pretty good. If you can get past the writing style. I adopted a version of her Vanilla Apple Tart recipe some years ago, and it has by now long been part of my 'list' (although definitely using calvados, rather than cognac); when I was researching recipes for Bakewell Tart (Leiths; various editions of Good housekeeping and Readers Digest compendia; Katie Stewart...all the usual suspects) it was TDL's version that I used in the end, and it was good. She does know her stuff. And this recipe I also found recently in her 'Supper for a Song' collection. (I've since found that it's a dish quite widely known, although completely new to me, and so probably not her own invention). During this period where we're halfway through moving, and sharing days between both places, this is a very useful 'quick and easy' recipe for a first course, having made the return journey from Pieve to Pisa rather later in the evening than intended.
For two:
Ingredients: frozen peas, sufficient for two generous servings; 100g feta, diced ; 100g greek yoghurt; half an onion (either spring or normal), finely diced; 1 garlic clove, finely diced; a squeeze of lemon juice; 1 large handful of fresh herbs, either basil or mint is best; 2 tbs olive oil; seasoning.
Method:
1. Cook the peas, briefly, in boiling water; drain them, then return to the empty pan, and crush them lightly (the point is to release the delicious juice from inside, not to reduce them to a mush; I use a battutacarne for this, just enough to break the flesh up a bit).Add the olive oil.
2. Combine the feta and yoghurt in a bowl; stir in the chopped herb, and mix in the lemon juice.
3. Add the peas and their juices, and stir to mix. Check, and adjust the seasoning to taste.
Best served still warm, but it's pretty good served cold.
...or, at least, that's what it was immediately christened in this house when it first made an appearance. Jill Norman, whose recipe it properly is, called it simply 'paprika liver'. The TD homed in on paprika, cream, and garlic, which, as far as he's concerned says 'Stroganoff', and the name has stuck.
This has become one of my three standard ways of treating calves liver: the other two being 'alla venezia', which is with caramelised onion, and what I call 'alla Modena' - although I can't now remember whether that's a real name that I found used elsewhere, or is just what I decided to call a recipe that I'd more or less made up - where the liver is breadcrumbed and fried in butter, and then served with a bigarade sauce (an idea that came from Nico Ladenis).
Ingredients: For two servings
Two pieces of calves liver; 1 large clove garlic; 20g butter; 1 tbs flour; 1 tsp paprika (piccante, not dolce); salt, to taste; half a cup of white wine; small handful of chopped parsley; half a cup of soured cream (ideally, or ordinary cream if sour is unavailable).
Method:
1. Cut the liver into thin slices. Put the flour, paprika and salt into a plastic bag, shake to mix, then add the liver to this and shake the bag so that the liver is thoroughly coated.
2. Melt the butter in a frying pan, and to this add the chopped garlic and the liver; cook for about thre minutes over medium-high heat, until the liver is cooked through. Remove the liver from the pan and set aside.
3. Add the wine and the parsley to the pan, increase the heat and reduce the liquid a little, then add the cream and continue to reduce until the sauce has visibly thickened. Return the liver to the pan and coat it in the sauce as the sauce continues to cook.
4. Divide the liver between serving plates, while the remaining sauce reduces and thickens to just a few spoonfuls, which should then be spooned over the plated liver.
In the picture, I served this with celery which had been braised in stock and white wine.
I can't leave out the work that Alessandro completed, several weeks ago now, to the central wall within the ruined wing...
Which used to look like this:
Tonight's dinner:
Aubergine Tarts
Boned chicken, with tarragon sauce; sweet and sour courgettes
Souffles omelette, stuffed with apples cooked in cream and calvados
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