Festive Feasting

Fond foodie memories are held of the meals we ate this Christmas Day; photos are above and descriptions below:

Breakfast was scrambled egg and smoked salmon (seasoned with punchy black peppercorns and pungeant juniper berries) on toasted soda bread; having wholemeal meant that our first meal was easily digested during the morning in preparation for...

Lunch, where we swayed slightly from the traditional by serving roasted duck (which in my opinion has the crispiest and most delicious skin of all birds) along with a platter of curly Cumberland sausages and stuffed chicken thighs wrapped in crispy dry-cured bacon. Golden roasties, a colourful array of vegetables and flavoursome home-made condiments completed the spread. We served two desserts: an apple and mincemeat tart filled generously with sweet, spicy fruit as well as a rich chocolate log (thoroughly cracked and dusted with seasonal sugar-snow), after which...

Well, we all just about collapsed from cooking/eating such a lot, curing post-break peckishness by picking from whatever was in reaching distance (i.e. the annual Celebrations box). Altogether a culinary triumph; I hope that you, too, enjoyed your Christmas meal and, what's more, reap the benefits of all the leftovers for the next few days!

An Unopened Present

A very Merry Christmas to all the readers of my blog! Of course, I'll soon post pictures of the food we've eaten today, but first I'd like to share a Christmas message that I received this morning...

So, have you opened all of your Christmas presents already? Whether or not it's bare under the tree, there may be a Christmas present that remains unopened. The Lord God offers each one of us the most precious Christmas gift of new life in His Son, Jesus (you know, the guy whose birthday it is today), and it's certainly not one to be left in paper and ribbon. This Christmas time, contemplate what is being offered to you by the birth of Jesus, and don't leave the greatest gift of all unopened!

Enjoy the festivities, everyone.

Welcome Table (with a Bonus)

I had a few friends over for a sleepover last night (yes, I know, very teenage of me!) and lay out this (relatively) humble spread of easy finger-food*. I like to call it a Welcome Table, which is essentially the same as a buffet, but more homely and somewhat less seventies. Besides, I'm not one for cocktail sticks or vol-au-vents; I keep catering rustic and simple, not least because I'm unashamed to say that I haven't the patience for precise presentation.

*Ok, so perhaps I set my guests a challenge in serving them puff-pastry pizza to devour sans forchette. Nevertheless, it was a delicious addition to the Welcome Table and the pastry base was pleasantly light (which is the relief one needs when faced with a hefty loaf of warm garlic bread alongside, see above).

I made a simple tomato sauce for the pizza, starting by gently frying a red onion and a chopped garlic clove in a glug of olive oil. I then added two tins of tomatoes and brought the mixture to the boil, before simmering on a low heat. You keep on cooking the sauce until there is no more watery juice sitting on the surface, but before anything sticks or black flecks start to appear (!). What you are doing is letting the water in the tomatoes steam off to leave a richer, thicker, more concentrated sauce, which can be spread onto a pizza base or stirred into hot pasta. For the pizza above, I rolled out a packet of puff pastry (supermarkets make it so well that we never feel the need to) onto a baking tray, spreading the sauce and strewing ripped-up chunks of mozzarella on top of this, before baking the whole thing on 220 C/Gas 7 until the cheese was bubbling and the flaky crusts were lightly browned.

The pizza tasted just as good grilled for lunch today, and we eggy-fried leftover slices of garlic bread for a simple supper with a pungeant twist. Therein lies the bonus of the Welcome Table- fill it in abundance and it'll keep you filled up the following day!

Christmas day came early for us this lunchtime, as we sat down to enjoy this year's festive family meal (on the 25th we will be one member short). We ate roasted duck confit (whose meat had been cooked slowly in duck fat beforehand, thus giving it a richer flavour and wonderful tenderness). The fat from the confit was used again, this time in cooking rustic little roast potatoes (smaller chunks= larger total surface area= more crispy bits), and alongside these we served up sweet and tangy stewed red cabbage, brussel spouts and bread sauce.

I didn't have bags of time to make dessert, but it's amazing what you can come up with in under ten minutes using an egg, caster sugar, dark rum, Bourbon brandy, a jug of cream and the culinary instructions of Nigella Lawson. Tiny coffee-cupfuls of eggnog syllabub made a delightful end to the meal, giving us something sweet to finish off with no more strain on the stomach.

Now normally, I am all about the food, yet it must be shared that the real treat of today was the magic of gushing snowfall outside. It certainly gave the meal a special, festive touch...that, and having the whole family together for one of the last times this year.

The countdown to Christmas continues and there will be further festive foodie fun to be had this coming week...so who's game?!

Christmas Lunch Prep.

This duck confit, above, is the starting point of our family Christmas lunch, being eaten today as this is the only weekend that we shall all be together. Roasted limbs half-buried in fat sounds (and looks) a little gruesome, but this is a method of preserving which will give the meat a wonderful buttery taste and unbeatable tenderness.

This will also be the first meal cooked by our new oven, which arrived yesterday. After 25 years of faithful service by our old Cannon cooker, we've upgraded to a shiny black (still gas-run, 'cause it's the best way) Hotpoint. So far, it's taken Mum fifteen minutes to work out how to power up the hob and, having used only four front knobs and no digital timer with the Cannon, I think we're all a little bit daunted by its technology. Nevertheless, we hope to come up with a nice festive meal in the next few hours, of which I'll post some pictures once it's made.

Brie and Bacon Butty

School's shut for a snow day- hooray!

Having frolicked about outside for a little while (my stamina for cold weather being pretty poor), I came inside to have some lunch. This weather calls for hot, tasty fill-me-ups like this oven-baked brie and bacon baguette, see above. Baking it makes the bread warm and crispy, and the creamy cheese comes out moreishly melted; it's a sandwich to really get your teeth into. What makes it so delicious is its contrasts: the mellow softness of the brie against the saltiness of the bacon; the crisp crust of the bread and it's chewy inside against the slight toughness of the meat. Simple, hot and hearty: job done.

Suet-crust Pie and Christmas Cakes

Sunday lunch this week was a proper hearty lamb pie. Hearty because it was packed full of slow-cooked meat, root vegetables, potatoes and pearl barley (if you haven't yet caught the buzz of this medieval grain, you're missing out). To top it all off (quite literally), a suet-pastry crust that was just the right balance of crispy and crumbly; so good, we now want to suet-crust everything we eat- suet-crusted pasties, suet-crusted apples, suet-crusted turkey on Christmas day...(joke).

Speaking of Christmas- excitement, excitement- festive food preparation has kicked off in our kitchen, involving lots of lovely ingredients that come together to create those unmistakable December smells. Already this week I've come home to a batch of stewed red cabbage, fragrant with apples, raisins and mixed spice; this will be stored away in the freezer to be reheated for Christmas dinner (if not before). Today, a bowl stood on the kitchen-top filled with the magical mixture of dried fruit, orange zest and spices all steeped in rum...I'm afraid I couldn't resist a healthy spoonful straight away! What was left has since been made into mother-and-child-esque Christmas cakes (above right), which shall be wrapped up and fed regularly with further rum, ready to be served in fat slices alongside hot cups of tea.

Ah, the Christmas spirit is upon me, and I won't resist it any longer!

Domestic Daddy

My fabulous father took to the kitchen yesterday evening, proving to us ladies of the house that he is more than just a handsome face. No sooner had he finished being up a ladder, painting windowsills, than he set about kneading dough (see above), frying minced lamb and mashing potatoes. The finished products: a stella batch of bread and a proper Shepherd's Pie. His culinary capacity didn't quite stretch to making a pudding on top of this, though, so I put together some mini pear crumbles to shove in the oven whilst the bread finished baking. Very tasty the pie was, too, and we ate his wholemeal rolls with jam and a big jug of coffee for breakfast this morning. I wouldn't go so far as to deem my father to be a domestic god, but he's certainly proved that something good can come of his being in the kitchen!

Lonely Fruit

There seems to be a strange trend in this household at the moment, whereby we find single fruits lying around on the dining-room table or in the fridge which need finishing up before their flesh goes all shrivelled and furry-green. I used up a wayward pear in the crumbles last night and 'found a home' for a lonely, zestless orange in today's lunchtime pudding. Perhaps this phrase creates too caring a connotation, for in reality I sliced up the poor thing and lay it on top of an almond sponge. Still, it had to be used up somehow and the sponge did make a lovely desert; so delicious, in fact, that I'll give you the recipe in case you, too, have a solitary citrus fruit to 'give a home'.

Lonely-Orange and Almond Sponge:

4 oz./ 115 g unsalted butter, softened

4 oz./ 115 g caster sugar

2 eggs

3 oz./ 85 g ground almonds

1 oz./ 30 g plain flour

1/2 tsp. baking powder

1 orange, zested then peeled, with the flesh sliced into thin rounds

1 tsp. almond essence (optional)

1 tbsp. flaked almonds (optional)

Preheat the oven to 150 degrees C/ Gas Mark 3.

Cream the butter and sugar until pale and fluffy. Add the eggs, one at a time, and beat well; stir in the almond essence, if using, and orange zest. Fold in the ground almonds, sifted flour and baking powder. Tip the mixture into a greased tin/pie dish (20-25cm in diameter) and lay the orange rounds on top, scattering over the flaked almonds also, if using.

Bake the sponge for 20 minutes; because the orange slices will leak their juice, the sponge will need to be baked for another 10-15 mins covered with tin foil, to stop it from burning. Serve warm, with crème fraîche or cold, with a cup of tea.

One for the Weekend

Winter gives me a sweet tooth, and if you too are looking for something simple, speedy and sugary to devour in chunks (at intervals, or in one sitting) over the weekend, here's the thing to cure your craving. Nigella's (need I mention her second name? We all know exactly who I'm talking about? Good....) recipe for Rocky Road involves no real cooking, uses just five ingredients and includes no nasty surprises (i.e. raisins or nuts- always controversial subjects). I made a tray of this for my biology class last week (which partakes in the educational revolution that is Cake Friday) and it went down a treat; add the following to tomorrow's shopping list:

125g unsalted butter (i.e. half a packet)
300g dark chocolate
3 tbsp golden syrup
200g rich tea biscuits
100g mini marshmallows

Melt the butter, chocolate and the golden syrup over a moderate heat on the hob. Bash the biscuits up in a sturdy plastic bag until some are crumbs, but a few bigger bits remain. Once the melted mixture is all stirred together nicely, add the biscuits and marshmallows. Tip into a lightly greased tin and leave in the fridge for at least two hours, before cutting up into as-big-as-you-like slices. Dust with icing sugar if you want to be fancy, although it usually just annoys me to have powder all over my fingers...

Have a nice weekend, everyone!

Pumpkin Treats

Sorry it's been a while- I've had the small matter of starting A Levels to contend with...this may well become a bi-annual blog...

It's been Hallowe'en this weekend and, although I don't celebrate the occasion itself, I have a particular fondness for its culinary symbol: the colourful, pungent, plump-yet-sturdy pumpkin. Even the name cannot be said without a jolly little bounce, and for all the joy it brings it turns out to be pretty versatile cookery ingredient, as well. We had delievered to our door on Friday night a hefty bucket-load of pumpkin flesh (a great convenience for us cooks is the tradition of pumpkin-carving- leave it to someone creative to do the prep. work!) and spent all day Saturday baking pumpkin cupcakes and cheesy pumpkin scones.

Such was the mountain of pumpkin that our two pairs of hands were not enough to shift it in its entirety; nevertheless, the fruits of our labour made a nice spread for the following day, when my church set up a market-stall and gave out to passers-by our pumpkin treats (no tricks, unless our creations weren't as delicious as we'd thought!...) Our scones and cupcakes were accompanied by pumpkin tartlets (maple syrup in the filling with a glazed pecan on top) and hot pumpkin soup- the latter a particular hit with the public as they stood shivering in the rain.

Thanks to my friend Debbie for the photos- our only decent camera is away at the moment with my father in India...it should be back for my next post, for which I hope not to leave you waiting another month!

Chicken, Cous Cous and Chocolate Cake

Yesterday was a busy one. At the end of it, my family and I sat slumped in the living room when a minor bombshell was suddenly dropped by my father: we were to welcome a guest to lunch tomorrow; no-one familiar, but one whom we'd never met before and thus called for a special effort ot be made in order for us to create a good first-impression. 'Lunch tomorrow?!' my sister, my mother and I questioned indignantly, 'But we haven't planned anything nice!' At once, like the onset of some culinary mission, we began a quick brainstorm and supermarket-dash to discover all stops that could be pulled out for our surprise visitor. Cookery books lay strewn and open on top of tables, and our thoughts were filled that night with all that needed to be cooked the next day.

The results of this effort, I now tell you with a satisfied stomach, weren't half bad. Our kitchen has been in a flurry of activity since last night until just over an hour ago, when my mother and I presented to our diners a spread of roast chicken, cous cous-stuffed peppers, new potatoes, ratatouille, mixed vegetables, herby-yoghurt dressing -see above- and gravy (yes, I too thought that combination was a little strange). Granted, the mix of flavours and cuisines hadn't been so thoroughly thought out as past meals, but every individual dish was very tasty and our guest, a friend of a friend from Romania, enjoyed them very much, as well as experiencing his first taste of a sweet pepper (I wonder, don't they have such things in his country?).

For dessert, I made a flourless chocolate cake covered (or rather dolloped-on- and-smothered) with rich chocolate ganache- nothing fancy (then was not the time for fiddly confectionary) but jolly nice. A light, sweet flavour it had not, but an accompaniment of fresh blueberries and pouring cream (Mum's ideas) addressed the balance.

There you are, you see- our household has proved that it can cope with catering for unexpected guests (mind you, that's no invitation!).

Bikinis Bite the Dust

The weather in England grows increasingly autumnal; I hear cries of 'sod the diet!' as the opportunity for donning a bikini dims and we all pull on wooly jumpers to shield us from the howling wind. I was at a friend's house on Wednesday evening to a) have dinner and b) forage around in his neighbour's vegetable patch (with the owner's consent, of course). Having ventured out into heavy rain and picked a generous crop of tomatoes and root vegetables, we were in need of something warm and sweet to take our minds off our soggy feet. I prepared this easy-peasy chocolate & peanut-butter sauce and spooned it over vanilla ice-cream, creating a fussiless comfort dessert. The sauce is adapted from a Nigel Slater recipe; I have reduced the ingredients list to just four items, three of which may well exist in your household anyday.

Ingredients:
180g dark chocolate
2 tbsp. golden syrup
2 tbsp. peanut butter (quantity can be varied, according to your taste)
Milk

Method:
1. Melt the chocolate and peanut butter in a bain-marie, cooking gently and without the bottom of the bowl touching the water beneath it.
2. Stir in the golden syrup, reserving some if the mixture gets too thick to stir comfortably.
3. Stir in splashes of milk, little be little, until a smooth, glossy sauce is achieved that dribbles in thick ribbons off the spoon.

Substitute unsalted butter for the peanut-butter if you'd like a simpler, less sickly sauce. The end result will always be calorific but, with swimsuits back in the drawer, there's now much less pressure to have such a defined figure.

Different Sizes, Same Passion #3

The final food fix in this particular trilogy is the smallest and, in my own soppy judgment, the sweetest of the lot. A sprightly Frenchman selling fresh fruit and vegetables is a quintessential image of l'hexagon, to which I travelled just over a month ago, yet this particular vendor was not sandwiched between fresh bread and seafood stalls in a bustling city market. Rather, he was set up on his own in a small town car park; as vibrant in spirit as the colour of his carrots and tomatoes, despite his lack of company or the rain that fell from cloudy skies. It's a shame that, already rushing to catch a train to Paris, I could not stop and buy something from this admirable chap, but he was more than happy for me to take his picture (I couldn't think quickly enough to ask him if he would mind appearing on the internet!).

The produce did look delicous, though, and was worthy enough for Monsieur to sell unaccompanied in the best spot he could find, albeit with petrol fumes wafting past!

So, there we are, three places that differ in form but not in function, as each provides the customer with food that is tasty and rustic; grown and sold with pride to us who will cook and eat it with pleasure. I hope this has inspired you to look for the likes of it in your area.

Different Sizes, Same Passion #2

The second food establishment; this time a little closer to home as I share my recent visit to a local farm shop in Essex, my home county. Cressing Park Farm Shop is a small setup, tucked away next to the agricultural plot of land on which some of shop's produce- meat, eggs, fruit, veg. and dairy- is grown or reared; and if the food's not from the site itself, it's most definitely locally sourced, such as the fresh bread delivered daily from Braintree company Legg's Bakery, along with the vast array of chutneys and honey from Coggeshall and Silver End respectively.

I spoke to Fiona, the front lady of the shop that day, and asked her what's so special about the food that she sells. Without hesitation, she replied, "It's all so fresh." And that makes for the best taste? "Exactly." Fiona was also keen to promote the role of the Farm Shop in the community, holding regular events on the site for local families or schools.

What's more, affirmation of the high quality of produce and provision comes through the shop's becoming a finalist in the Essex Food & Drink Awards 2010.

It's a shame that time and availability constraints deem wholly relying on the local farm shop impractical; neverthless it's refreshing to know that, less than ten minutes from the supermarkets in a commercial town centre, there's a rural alternative where buying your groceries means supporting local trade and fuelling a community passion for food- something that, I'm sure you'll agree with me, should exist in every county.

For more information on events or shop produce, visit http://www.cressingparkfarmshop.co.uk/

Different Sizes, Same Passion #1

For my next few posts, I'd like to mention three...what can I call them?...food establishments, shall we say, that I have had the pleasure of visiting recently. All share the common criteria of a place which sells honest, tasty food that, in my opinion, should be celebrated and more widely consumed. I psychologically partner the three like a tiered wedding cake, with a large, medium and small, and it is in this way that I shall present them to you who are reading.

We begin with the largest, and certainly the most well-known, setup: Borough Market of South East London, which attracts tourists, travellers and Londoners alike to its food stalls every Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Crowds flock to the site during the weekend; thus, I chose wisely to make my latest visit on a Thursday, when I would have the time and space to better take in that which Borough Market has to offer.

A good market must have an enticing atmosphere, and at Borough the shared enthusiam for food between vendors and visitors injects excitement into the air; not to mention the buzz of cheerful chatter that exists here also, along with waves of tasty smells given off by the street-food stalls. My sister and I caught the scent of chargrilled meats at lunchtime, and enjoyed a shared (pretty huge) Merguez sausage wrap from Cafe Brood (which opens up an outdoor kitchen for market days), see above, as well as picking up an aromatic portion of paella to take home.

Further on into the market, the produce on sale is an eclectic mix of fruits, meats, cheeses and breads; each stall proudly presented and with a holder happy to have you taste before you buy. This makes for the most interactive experience in food-shopping, as you sample the produce and chat to its cultivator; what's more, showing an interest and nice smile can often grant you a very generous portion for what you pay. It is this added social element that sets apart market-browsing from supermarket-dashing, and I'd urge you all to shop at food markets, big or small, as often as possible.

On the train home from London, my sister and I reflected regretfully on the foods we wished we'd bought at Borough Market. No matter, though; we'll just have to make a return trip there soon to pick them up...

Borough Market is open Thursday 11 a.m.-5 p.m., Friday 12 p.m.-6 p.m. and Saturday 8 a.m.-5 p.m. in London SE1. Visit www.boroughmarket.org.uk for more information.

Autumn arrives early

Ah, what did I expect from classic British summertime? Today, like many before it this season and I most certainly foresee several after, has been decidedly un-summery. No blistering heat nor blazing sun; no dash to the seaside nor decent bronzing opportunity, but an overcast sky and chilly breeze.

Yet, this time, we decided not to deny the grumpy climate but to welcome it as an early wave of autumnal weather, and our evening meal followed suit.Hence, I sit with a heavy, happy stomach satisfied by Toad-in-the-Hole, which my older sister made in quest of learning to cook before returning to University, and my homemade crumble for pudding.

Whereas Toad. may be a little long-winded for under-graduates to manage in their cramped, campus kitchens (although which young adult doesn't like sausages?...and batter??), crumble is a simple-staple that should exist in every student's cooking repertoire- a quality pud that never ceases to please. I used a recipe by Sophie Dahl, from her debut cookery book Miss Dahl's Voluptuous Delights, which uses spelt flour and porridge oats in the topping. The oats give the crust an interesting texture and using dark brown sugar adds a musky sweetness. The fruits that stewed beneath this were partly the takings of a recent raid on my friend Chloe's apple tree, as well as small dollops here-and-there of homemade blackcurrant jam.

Overall, I'm pleased to say that the combination worked wonderfully, and the great thing about crumble is that almost any fruit can be used (except, although I have never tried but would advise against, oranges and bananas).

Not to say that I am yet sick of strawberries and cream, but both of these oven-baked dishes have got me nice and excited about next season!

P.J. and Croissant

See previous post for jam recipe.

Fruit, Glorious Fruit

'Tis the season to be fruity, and at the Carrefour supermarket in France we found a huge stand of ripe watermelons. How could we resist? We picked out the largest specimen and balanced it in the front basket of Evelyne's bike to take home and share with the family (my host mother, riding her bicycle laden with fruit, made the image of a true French mamie).

Big as a pregnant belly, the watermelon was dessert for several meals and equally satisfying at each. Its juice was so sweet, it was as though we were eating slices of sorbet. I've since had a debate with a friend over whether or not you eat the seeds of a watermelon, but I daresay I even enjoyed those too. Eating this one gem of a summer fruit was such a pleasant feature of my short stay in France, and again it made me regret slightly that we don't find anything quite so good in British supermarkets (although I did note that our cherries and strawberries are tastier).

Also, this time back in England, I came home last afternoon to the exciting sight (and smell) of my mum's homemade pineapple jam. I stuck a spoon into one of the still-warm jars to test this latest batch; gooey, sweet and buttery (yes, buttery), pineapple has been a revelation to me in jam flavours. I had never tried it until a few months ago, but it has swiftly moved to the top of my Favourites list (just above raspberry and apricot).

There exist a couple of tiresomely long-winded recipes around for pineapple jam, yet this one achieves the same delicious result with delightful simplicity:

Ingredients:

1 large, fresh pineapple (makes about 1kg jam)

1.5lb/500g jam sugar (with pectin)

Method:

1. Peel, core and finely chop the fresh pineapple, removing all eyes and bits of skin.

2. Mix the fruit with the sugar and 0.5 pints/300ml water in a deep preserving pan.

3. Boil the mixture over a medium heat, stirring gently and removing excess froth from the surface, until it becomes syrupy and dark (homemade p.j.'s rich amber is a much more appetizing colour than the pale lemon-yellow of shop-bought brands).

4. Test a sample of the jam by leaving it to cool on a saucer- if it becomes sticky and forms a wrinkled skin, it's ready; boil for a little longer if not, and test again.

5. To set, divide the jam into hot, sterilised jars and seal when cold.

Store in the fridge and dollop onto hot buttered toast, a warm croissant or even stir into plain Greek yoghurt. Soon, it'll be your favourite too.

See my next post for an accompanying photo.

Brioche Attempt #2

Another go at making brioche. Better this time- no surgery necessary.

It's actually quite a pleasure to make, what with the raw dough being so smooth and it's scent so mellow. What's more, if you start the process early one evening, you can have the loaf fully prepared and baked in time for a late breakfast or brunch the next morning. The end result is richer and spongier and certainly less sugary than packet-loaves; well worth the moderate effort, I promise you.

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...

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.

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).