Saturday 31 July 2010

Cereal Spree


We've just bought a whole load of our favourite cereal brand (from Dorset), so much so that we almost have the whole collection sitting in our breakfast cupboard. The baked granolas are my pick of the bunch; in fact, I'm eating the new Chocolate Granola & Macadamia Nuts as I type. Not only does this flavour give me an excuse to eat chocolate for breakfast, all the ingredients of it that could be Fairtrade are so and, come the colder months, I predict a bowlful of this warmed up would be just the soft, sweet stuff needed to cure any winter blues.


Oh, and did I mention the packaging? Whoever's the creative director of this tasty brand is doing a terrific job of picking equally delicious colours that complement each flavour beautifully, and it's not often you get something so attractive on the outside that's an even bigger delight within...

Thursday 29 July 2010

Un petit cours in French home dining

I have very recently spent a week living with a family just outside of Paris, and so have had a taste of eating habits in a French household. One thing I have learned and now pass on as a minor word of warning to any feeble-stomached, travelling Englishman: home-cooked meals are always three courses long, at lunchtime as in the evening.

More than once, in the early days of getting used to this new regime, I made the fatal error of serving myself a hefty portion of what I supposed was the meal in its entirety, when it was in fact the lighter of two savoury courses (if not three, should a cheese platter be included before dessert). Being the grateful guest that I was, I didn't dream of refusing the following dishes, nor of explaining that, in my normal English existence, three-course meals are reserved from restaurant dining and Christmas time. I don't know of any British household that serves three courses at lunch and dinner (that is to say that, if such as household does exist, I have never eaten at it).

I soon learned the way to enjoy three-course meals twice a day without rendering myself fit to burst: I did my best to pass on the bread basket during the starter (although butter-laden baguette is one of life's simple pleasures), instead savouring the natural flavours of an exquisitely presented salad using fresh, local vegetables and leaves. Likewise with the main course, a little of the roast meat and cooked vegetables with enough substance (usually rice or potatoes) to soak up the accompanying sauce sufficed; following that would be no more than a small bowl of ice cream or fresh fruit, the latter so tasty that nobody missed anything stodgier or sweeter.

As I learned, I began to favour this French way of dining at home. Having eaten at such an idle pace with relatively little bulk to what was served back home, I consumed slightly more yet finished feeling less full. Another benefit was that enjoying each course and waiting for the next gave greater time to sit, talk and relax; dinnertime was a family occasion in itself.
Sadly, I haven't much faith that three-course, home-cooked meals could become a tendency in many British households, simply because I don't believe we (generalised) care enough about dining to make such an effort. Yet, the giving of time to enjoying good food and beloved company is a French aspect of dining that I have hope we can see more of in this country, particularly in the daily lives of English families.

Monday 12 July 2010

Off with a bang (and brioche)

My first blog post!...
...and my first attempt at making brioche. I love the versatility of this rich French bread, which can be complemented by both savoury and sweet flavours- you can just as easily serve brioche with paté as you can with the more traditional accompaniment of a fruity confiture. Similarly, brioche can be eaten for breakfast, lunch, evening dessert and, frankly, anytime in between (it tastes just as good unadorned, picked off the side of the loaf when nobody's watching).

I fell at the first cooking hurdle in that my yeast didn't rise; I tried again, this time adding a teaspoon of sugar which, my mum informs me, gives the yeast something to 'feed on', and was successful. The raw dough itself, before any risings, was sloppy and stuffed full of butter; I was despairing slightly at the sight of it, but put trust in the recipe before me and persevered. I soon got an encouragement in that the first rising took half the time it was supposed to whilst producing wonderful results (see right) and from thereon it was plain-sailing.




When it came to the cooking, I didn't have a proper brioche mould (and have been assured that it is not essential) so made the same two-tiered shape in rectangular form, using a normal 1lb loaf tin (brioche shouldn't be baked in batches more than 1lb heavy if a light, fluffy crumb is to be achieved). This didn't really work: the top bit flopped to the side in the oven and ended up looking life a half-amputated limb. I soon put the poor thing out of its misery, forming one proper loaf as well as a smaller baton on the side (I'll call it that to make it sound as though it were planned).