Dinner Party of a Domestic Mortal

I've been pretty relaxed over the last couple of posts- a soup here, a muffin there, all lots of fun but sometimes you just want to push the boat out. Last week the urge to really get stuck into my kitchen just took me over, twinned with a peek at the most gorgeous loin of Gloucester Old Spot pork in Source. Rare breed a day off coming up could only mean one thing: friends for dinner.

A lot of people I know remember 'dinner parties' as the sort of thing their parents used to face with traditional British phlegm, sipping their beaujolais nouveau through gritted teeth, wondering if these social animals at their table were worth tomorrow's washing up. I was lucky, living in student houses with the likes of La Journalista, a true food nut who just wanted to sit friends down at her table and give them something nice to eat while they kept her glass topped up. I loved those evenings, so much so that I never minded the mountain of dishes, pots and pans I tried to sidestep for the next morning's coffee.

It can be a bit of an art, having people over. My only rule is, they must be people you like. You know, the funny ones, better still the ones who find you funny, who talk, listen and keep pouring. For this evening Card House Theatre and Pretty Little Miss were the guests of myself and The Blonde, though not after the former had mussed up his shirt helping to carry a writing desk up three flights of stairs. Kudos.

It was yet another cold, January day, so there was no better way to spend my precious friday off than huddled over a stove. Dinner was set for 7.30-8.00, I had set my menu but not picked up any ingredients or done any cooking when I woke up in Cotham. Here's the timeline of a very informal dinner party, if not incident free then surprisingly relaxed.

Starter/ nibbles: home baked focaccia with oil and vinegar and a little mortadella.

Main: roast pork loin on the bone, with cauliflower cheese and white cabbage sauteed in oyster sauce.

Dessert: madeleines dipped in melted chocolate served with mint tea.

10:00 am: finally leave the flat and head to Source to pick up the pre-ordered pork (okay I did order that in advance, on Twitter as it happens) and the butcher Joe and I discussed what to do with how much of it. Well he suggested things and I decided to agree with the pro. That was the right decision- he did a beutiful french trim on the ribs and showed me how to slice off the bone at the base of the cut. Headed home via picking up ingredients for cauliflower cheese and madeleines. It wasn't till later in the afternoon I realised I forgot cabbage. Never fear, roommate supreme turned up with one after work.

12:00 Arrive home, prep pork and leave in the fridge, covered. Had a quick lunch. Well I couldn't see a way to eating before dinner. Anyway it's my day off, I'll do as I please.

12:30 made the focaccia dough and set it aside to double in size while I made the madeleines. They went so well I made another batch today, and I still love them as much as last week.

14:00 stretched the dough to a roasting tin, left to prove for another 20 or so minutes to rise slightly. Washed up the madeleine debris, then baked the bread, 30 minutes in a medium warm oven. I realised I had also forgotten any herbs for the bread, which might have made it a little prettier, so I decided that if anyone asked I would bluff its Italian authenticity.

14:30 while the bread was baking I made the cauliflower cheese. Unlike the recipe I made a roux, then added the milk slowly, the way everyone does. The cheese was Keens cheddar, from Trethowans Dairy. I let both the cauliflower and the sauce cool separately, then poured both into an oven dish, covered with foil and put in the fridge until ready to bake.

15:00- 17:00 shower, tidy, dress, change mind, change clothes, sit down (very important day off activity, sitting down) until The Blonde shows up with cabbage and news of her day. Shred cabbage, set aside for sauteeing later. Pre heat the oven for the Pork.

17:30 put pork in the oven with cider and shallots using Mike Robinson's recipe. This turns out to be a bit early but not the end of the world. Make the base for the sauce in the recipe, then leave to one side when sufficiently reduced.

18:15 turn up oven, put on make up. Have first glass of wine and put out bread and mortadella.

19:00 out comes pork. Shallots are charcoal but meat is perfection itself, with gorgeous crackling. Leave it to rest, covered.

19:30 take cauliflower cheese from fridge, sprinkle with extra Keens and breadcrumbs, put in the oven.

19:45 arrival of guests. Finish the cider sauce with meat juices. Carve meat and saute cabbage, adding oyster sauce to finish, while writing desk is admired, somewhat breathlessly.

8:00 out comes cauliflower cheese, table is laid and dinner commences.

9:00 (I think) the lovely Green&Blacks chocolate brought by the even lovelier Pretty Little Miss melted in the microwave and served with the madeleines and mint tea.



Looking at the timeline it seems like I did a lot but really there were lots of pauses, mainly in order to do important things like sitting down, checking Twitter and drinking wine. The point is, it is possible to bake three times (if you count cauliflower cheese) and roast once in one day.

I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, but then again I would, and my glass just kept filling up with wine after my guests arrive. They were my kind of guests. They are more than welcome to feed me whenever they like.

Winter is for Afternoon Tea.

Well, hot drinks anyway.

January's not the easiest time of year. Christmas is done, New Years resolutions are looking shaky (chocolate and red wine's looking real good after a cold walk home from a long day at work). Everywhere on the internet, in food magazines and colour supplements folks are trying to get me to eat poached chicken and coleslaw made with vinaigrette, not mayo. Stop it, all of you! If I want to eat salad I will, in a dignified fashion, away from people.

Yes, I overindulged over christmas, actually I overindulged more on New Year's Eve (went back to the Montpelier Basement, eight course extravaganza) but rather than cut back too far on calories or carbs I'm opting for eating lots of the good stuff. There are still plenty of customers to run around after at work and this sudden chilly turn makes me want to curl up with something hot and good for the soul. I don't really like tea, I occasionally find it soothing but never refreshing and these muffins may be low fat but they're also pretty filling.

Gruyere, Courgette and Pine nut muffins.

The base of the muffins I got years ago from Delicious Magazine (always quote your sources) and I find for a savoury muffin it's hands down the easiest formula. Buttermilk's available from big supermarkets but low fat natural yoghurt will do fine. In place of the pancetta, cheddar and spring onion I put in a large, finely grated courgette, about 100g gruyere with extra grated on top and a couple of handfuls of toasted pine nuts. On reflection the gruyere wasn't as strong as I'd hoped, but a good strong one would do. Gorwydd Caerphilly would be lovely or good old mature cheddar.

Hot Spiced Apple and Ginger

I had a glass of hot ginger and apple juice in a cafe in Bristol city centre (it shall remain nameless as service and prices weren't worth celebrating). It hit the spot on a cold day, so much so that I made my own version at home to blow away a cold. Don't be chintzy with the ginger, the warmer the better. If looking for a twist on the classic hot toddy I reckon one might add a little whisky or better still, cider brandy.

enough for 2, or one very thirsty/cold filled person

350ml apple juice, not from concentrate
about 2 inches cubed of fresh ginger, grated
squeeze of lemon juice
1 heaped tsp honey
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon, better still a cinnamon stick
plenty of fresh grated nutmeg

heat up the honey, ginger and lemon slowly in a small saucepan. When bubbles appear pour in the juice, stir to mix with the syrup base and let it continue to heat up slowly.

When the juice hits a simmer add the cinnamon and grate in lots and lots of nutmeg. Let it simmer away for about 5 minutes, give it a taste, add something if you want or let it simmer for another couple of minutes till the scent of spices and ginger fills the kitchen, then pour into two glasses using a tea strainer or sieve.

I'll be back soon with more seasonal recipes and Bristol profiles now the world has righted itself and work isn't stuffed to the gills with office parties. I must admit inspiration's been slow coming as all I wanted to eat the week after christmas was hummus and carrot sticks! However I'm back, baking and ready for dinner.

TTFN

Winter Warmer: Curried Sweet Potato Soup with Goats Cheese and Creme Fraich Dressing

I know, right, a soup recipe. Anyone can make a soup. Veg, stock, a stick blender and you're set, from raw ingredients to dinner for as many as your pot can handle in less than an hour. That's its charm and also what makes it feel a little ordinary. It's the meal you eat curled up on the sofa with a film you'd never admit to enjoying in public. That's all well and good but if you've a guest or two and no cash for flashy ingredients this will be an elegantly rustic dinner with sufficient polish you'd happily scarf it down in your local bistro for a mark up.

Serves 4

4/5 sweet potatoes, peeled and chopped to to an even size
1/2 an onion or 1 banana shallot (which I used) finely diced
1 carrot, peeled and finely diced
1 celery stick, finely diced
1 heaped tsp hot madras curry powder (or medium, or mild as your taste specifies)
1 level tsp smoked paprika
1 ltr good stock. I used chicken but I admit vegetable bouillon would be just as tasty and healthier.
Handful parsley, chopped, four pinches to one side for garnish
50g soft goats cheese (I went with Capricorn, having removed the rind. It's easier to beat into the creme fraiche)
2-3 tbsps half fat creme fraiche

Before any of this I made up a batch of dough for six Fougasses according to the recipe in Richard Bertinet's excellent book Dough. If you really want to learn how to make bread then this gentleman's writing answered all my stupid questions without once patronising me- not bad for a seasoned pro. I let the dough rest to double in size while I made the soup. Homemade bread in pretty shapes for dunking: show-off step 1.

Heat some oil in a large saucepan and toss in the soffritto of onion, carrot and celery. I should note here that the soffritto element of this doesn't have to be finely diced as the end product will be blitzed but the finer the base the quicker it will cook off and you can add your sweet potato. Stir in the spices and parsley and let the vegetables sweat with the lid half on for about 10 minutes.

Pour in the stock, bring to the boil, then reduce to a simmer. Leave simmering on a low hob for 30 minutes, or when the sweet potato is cooked through. Put your oven on to its highest heat for the bread. Blitz the soup with a stick blender and mind out for spatter. Actually never mind, if you're making fougasses you're probably covered in flour anyway. I always am. Keep the soup hot and, shape the fougasses (good luck with that, mine looked like spaceships) and bake according to the good book.

While the bread is on, whisk the goats cheese into the creme fraiche with some vigour. Put the bread on a nice, decorative board with some decent butter (mine this time came from my first visit to Ruby and White. Gosh darn it they're good). Show-off step 2. Ladle the soup into bowls, top with dressing, top the dressing with the remaining parsley and if you really want to make it look pretty drizzle a little extra virgin olive oil on top of that.

Dust off the worst of the flour and join your friends for dinner. And remember, ye who cooketh, washeth not up.

More Peasant Food, thanks to C & T Licata and Son

I don't know if you've twigged this yet, but if there's any one style of cooking I truly love, it's Italian. Italian cuisine is the perfect food for those on a restricted budget: it knows when to take cheap cuts and slow cook them with pulses till all is unctuous and savoury, it knows when to throw the freshest, brightest ingredients together for a crisp finish with no unnecessary cooking to muddle things. All in all it is the style of cooking I always lean towards, as my father toward classic english cooking (his ultimate dinner: steak and kidney pudding) and my mother toward French peasant (the very thought of her chicken casserole is enough to send me hurtling to the nearest train station). Their cooking makes me think of the home of my childhood, while Italian cooking brings sweet memories of the homes I have since made for myself.

The very first dish I cooked successfully from scratch was a risotto with baby leeks and mascarpone and it tasted like being a grown up. The next was baked polenta topped with mozzarella and parma ham. But for me the apex of Italian food, that which as had me hooked since I was a fussy child, is pasta. Perfectly cooked, with a little bite, silky from a splash of the starchy cooking water, this ingredient needs almost nothing to make it sing. I am putting up this dish as a shout out to everyone across the world who subsists on pasta, for every bloke who dusts off his mum's spag bol recipe for a girlfriend and student who buys a new pesto jar every week (been there) and the fussy child given plain as plain can be spaghetti and butter in restaurants. I ordered this dish in a tourist friendly restaurant in Venice and the memory of it has lain dormant in my mind ever since. On my last day off I was in C & T Licata and Son, saw a bag of orechiette and was halway there. On my way to the till I passed a fridge with some spicy Calabrian sausages and the dish just came together in my head. I must note here that if you're not a huge fan of spicy sausage then a very good butchers or a herby lincolnshire would make a happy replacement, better still an intensely garlicky Toulouse sausage.

Orechiette with Broccoli and Spicy Sausage.

serve four, generously

500g pack of dried orechiette
1 head of broccoli, florets cut off with a sharp knife, stalk chopped roughly the same size as the florets
1 tsp dried chilli flakes
roughly 200g parmesan, grated
1 generous tbsp garlic puree
4 Italian sausages (entirely optional, the pasta is superb with the sauce if vegetarian)

Cook the broccoli. Bring a pot of salted water to the boil, add the chopped stalk and cook for roughly 2 minutes. Then add the florets and cook until just cooked, when a sharp knife pierces it with ease. Drain and set to one side while you put the pasta on (I had to do this as I only have one large saucepan, feel free to put both on simultaneously). Then put the broccoli, stalk and floret, into a food processor and blitz to a coarse paste.

Put a frying pan on a medium to high heat. Add a splosh of olive or rapeseed oil and a generous knob of butter. When the butter is frothing add the chilli and garlic puree and fry a little. It will smell like everything you ever liked about Italian family restaurants, but don't get carried away. Add the blitzed broccoli and fry, stirring only very occasionally. The smell just gets better as you go.

When the pasta is almost cooked cooked, remove a big mug of the starchy cooking water, if not a bit more, then drain the pasta. Add a splash of the cooking water to the sauce base and stir it in, enjoying how silky and creamy it's becoming. If it even starts to get dry, add more water. This is not like pesto, it is a sauce. Add the pasta and let it finish cooking in the broccoli sauce, then stir in the parmesan.

Heat a second pan then fry off the sausage meat, removing it from the skins and stirring with a wooden spoon. If you fancy deglazing the pan with a little wine then feel free, why waste those lovely caramelised bits left behind?
Serve the pasta in bowls, spooning the sausage on top. There should be enough even to feed four hungry blokes, with plenty of that meaty kick they often require. If there are any vegetarians I'd serve it on its own as it stands alone very well, but a little wilted spinach would be another dimension.

Bread and Brunch.

It's the height of the Real Bread campaign this week, Mark of Mark's bread was giving a class at work this week and some sort of national baking week has been announced. Have I managed to celebrate this week with some baking? Not quite, no. But I did make it to a quiet Harts Bakery today at around noon as the bakery wound to a close. It's a beautiful place, where Laura Hart produces sourdough, baguettes, hand rolled croissants and danish pastries (which almost no one does), bicycle shaped biscuits and recently some truly fabulous jams. If you live in Bristol and can get to Cotham before 1ish, pop in and try to leave without buying something. I dare you. I'd also point you to the excellent article written by Slivana de Soissons for The Foodie Bugle, which says anything I'd like to say on the subject of Laura and her lovely business. Luckily for me it was a quiet tuesday and I had a choice of breads and pastries. Baguette and Gruyere and ham danish for me, plus an inviting jar of homemade apricot and vanilla jam.

As I hikked up Whiteladies road munching on my danish I was wondering what to do with my 'French stick', when I remembered the previous sunday's late breakfast with Card House Theatre. Went to bed (to the soundtrack of miscellaneous metal, a party was still in full swing) convinced there were both eggs and bacon in the kitchen. Woke to find eggs and a large baguette still safe and a pan smelling of bacon fat on the hob. I had a vague memory of a Tamasin Day-Lewis recipe for tumbled eggs in french bread as a brunch recipe, which we threw together over strong coffee. It was pretty good, with a little spread on the bread, eggs spooned in with grated cheese and a little hot sauce then bunged in a medium oven to heat through. It was just the thing to set the day off and so here is a slightly ponced up version for your delectation. Perfect for brunch with coffee or bucks fizz or as a very easy dinner after work.

Serves 2:

4-6 eggs (depends on your appetite) in my case from Source
small handful of chopped parsley
big handful any hard cheese, grated (I used Gorwydd Caerphilly from Trethowan's Dairy)
about 12" french stick
good quality butter

Preheat your oven to about 160/150 fan/ gas mark 4 and stick in a baking sheet. Cut your bread to roughly 6" each (no jokes, please) and break open down the middle, preferably with fingers and thumbs. Butter liberally and leave to one side while you cook the eggs.

Beat the eggs while you melt more butter in a frying pan (nobody said this was a healthy dish). When the butter is foaming add the eggs and scramble with a wooden spoon slowly to make big, creamy curds of scrambled egg. After about a minute add the parsley, sprinkling so as to avoid clumps of herb in the egg. Cook the eggs to your taste; I like them barely cooked, creamy, with great big curds. Season with salt and pepper (it really is better to season the eggs after cooking rather than before) and spoon into the bread. Add the cheese and stich in the oven for 5-7 minutes till the bread has warmed through and the cheese has melted.


Then the only thing to do is serve and eat:
Yes I made it look fancy with a bit of salad, but honestly the best way to have this is with a really hot cup of coffee, sitting on the kitchen top with someone who'll pretend not to notice all the egg spilling on the floor.

Season's Treasures: You Peasant

Autumn is approaching. Weirdly it means that the weather is picking up slightly for a week or two, though the nights stretch out longer and earlier, a blessing to those who work in restaurants with al fresco dining.

I'm quite relaxed in the current job, as a member of the Sustainable Restaurant Association I reckon we're hardly even started of the politics of the food industry but it's it's nice to know someone's about to write the memo. Especially when you get asked about all the fish on the menu. Anyway, enough about work, it springs to mind because at the start of august the kitchen produced a rather attractive version salade paysanne. Rather than roast quail and foie gras it was served with confit of duck leg and chicken liver pate. After all this is a brasserie. It sprung to mind last time I was in Source: I had two rich and flavour-laden duck breasts ready to take to the till. I was so sure I would poach the meat, crisp up the skin and make a chinese-ish dish. Then the lovely Joe Wheatcroft (that is his epithet in this blog) tapped me on the shoulder by the fresh veg and with a winning smile said the magic words: "We have fresh ceps." That man really knows his customers. He's well aware of my obsession with all things seasonal and these were so fresh they woke up the previous morning still in the Quantocks.
Gosh they're pretty. Having never tried them before I was loath to overpower them with spices and soy sauce, possibly missing this new flavour. I had pancetta at home and a faint memory of this rather rich salad from work so back to Bedminster I trotted ready for peasant food.

I know it's a bit gastropub but I still love peasant food. Just the basic concept calms me. You buy one or two central flavours and proceed to cook them without mucking about too much. You add one or two complementing flavours, something to bulk it out and serve it on a driftwood board. Okay, in my case a cheap, wooden chopping board but you get my point. This salad bears little relemblance to the traditional, as I had duck breasts, pancetta and the gorgeous ceps but it made a very pleasant start to autumnal cooking:

serves 2, or 4 as a starter with more leaf

2 duck breasts
clove garlic, rosemary sprig
large knob of cold, unsalted butter

200g bag of rocket, or a strong flavoured leaf. Watercress would work nicely
large handul of walnut halves, roughly chopped
2-3 rashers of thin cut, smoked pancetta, finely sliced
2 thick slices of stale bread, cut into centimetre cubes
3 or 4 ceps, washed and sliced

preheat the oven to about 200 degrees/180 fan/gas mark 6. While the oven heats up, pop the bread in for about 10 minutes to dry out with a pinch of salt. Of course, if you'd rather buy croutons I won't tell.

With a small, sharp knife score the fat of the duck breasts. Take care not to hit the meat or it won't cook evenly. season lightly with salt and pepper.

Heat up a frying pan or skillet till really rather hot. Add the butter and some oil to stop the former from burning, then a garlic clove, flattened with the heel of your hand or a knife and the rosemary. When all is frothing place the duck breasts in fat side down. Cook for 7-8 minutes until the fat is browned and crisp on top. Turn over and continue to cook for a further 2-3 minutes.

If, like me, you like your duck rare that's as far as you need to go, but The Blonde prefers medium so I left mine to rest on a covered plate and popped hers in the oven while I made the salad bit.

I fried the croutons in the remaining duck fat from the pan, but you can use oil if that makes your arteries clench up. When golden remove from the pan and pop them on some kitchen towel. Season lightly.

Drain off the remaining fat and wipe the pan, then return to the heat. Toast the walnuts, reomove then fry the little strips of pancetta till golden and crispy. Remove to the kitchen towel, deglaze the pan with a little white wine, add a little more butter and the sliced ceps. Add some finely chopped parsley if you like (I like).

Take the duck out of the oven and let it sit for a minute. Toss the rocket, nuts, bacon and croutons and split between deep plates (or in my case shallow bowls). Scatter over the ceps.

Slice the duck breasts fairly thinly and serve on top of the salad, drizzling over any juices.

Sit down with the person you're cooking for, have a glass of wine and proudly point out how little washing up you've left them.

The Montpelier Basement

Remarkably for a waitress in the approaching summer I secured a late notice Saturday off (was too late to attend the gig I'd cancelled but count your blessings etc...) and after a little begging I secured a seat for myself and the Blonde at the much talked of Montpelier Basement supper club. Now, I'm not one of those bloggers who review food generally (not because I don't like such blogs, I like the well written ones, it's just that I don't eat out enough to warrant it) but this was too good an experience not to mention it here to you good and decent people who glance over this hastily written series of entries.

The notion of the supper club has been mentioned before in this blog (see Terroir de Toulouse) but not really explained, so for those of you not glued to twitter supper clubs are part of the 'guerilla restaurant' movement whereby food types host dinners for strangers in a home setting (like the Basement) or in some previously unthought of location (think The Secret Supper club on C4 hosted by Olly Smith). The rules are: BYOB, pay the suggested donation in cash, be prepared to meet new people loosen up a bit. The last rule is for me, I'm sure the rest of you are perfectly comfortable in social situations where you can't hide behind a focaccia or mountain of cakes.

This particular supper club is run by Elly and Dan, respectively of The Pear Cafe and Trethowan's Dairy, Dan also of Essex Eating, actually worth a read re restaurant reviews as he's definitely not doing it for freebies and knows his onions, so to speak. They source their food locally so everything is bang on season and take bookings of no more than four so that their tables will always have people mingling and communicating, if only ooh-ing and ah-ing about the food.


Oh the food. Just look at that menu. A foodie dream. I'm not going to waste time explaining dishes I haven't photographed and you haven't eaten as I won't do them justice. Just read that chalkboard and take it in, picture it, taste it. It was better than that. Picture it again. No, better than that too. Never mind. A particular revelation was the Sipsmith Gin, tonic and cucumber ice with little flecks of finely chopped cucumber though the dish adding a third texture to the liquid and ice. And it had a whopping gin kick to it, an amazing palate cleanser but not for the faint hearted drinker.

The Blonde and I arrived bang on time and were joined at our table by Jamie, a keen home gardener working in student accommodation, Jo, who worked for Aardman (wow!) and for instant food celebrity, Richard and Jo Bertinet of Bertinet Kitchen in Bath. All were charming, interesting people, M. Bertinet in particular I must thank for teaching us how to drink our Muscat and not telling us off for not knowing better! It will be properly chilled next time, je vous promets. We also happened to be attending the same night as a very lovely pair of friends who had sensibly booked and not had to beg returns. They were seated elsewhere, but from the catch up in the taxi home we gathered they loved it.

Having served the final course of rarebit served on Bertinet sourdough Dan and Elly emerged to join us and went from table to table chatting, joking and laughing, perfect hosts through and through. The Blonde and I emerged tipsily elated and more than a little in awe of the people who take on such a huge task, set it in their own homes and pull it off with such style.

For more information on Supper clubs check out MsMarmite's excellent site here.

And some Twitter links to get you in the know:

@BertinetKitchen
@trethowansdairy
@pearcafe
@MontpelierBsmt
@EssexEating

Pictures from Ms Marmite's site, and @MontpelierBsmt's twitter feed