It is not often I get to visit a Michelin starred restaurant so when I read an article in the Times listing some that were offering cut price meals, I jumped at the chance. I noticed that the closest restaurant on the list and the one offering the cheapest menu was the Hand and Flowers. Tom Kerridge runs this pub restaurant with his wife in the lovely town of Marlow (famed for its replica of the Széchenyi chain bridge). The place has an intimate, welcoming atmosphere without the formal poshness of other places given the imprimatur of the Michelin men. The black-clad waitresses who served us were a mixture of French and Eastern European. Having made our choices from the budget menu we waited with bated breath.

The first thing to arrive was, as the amuse-bouche. Not being accustomed to the ways of haute cuisine we were slightly puzzled by the appearance of these novelties. F. had had a beetroot consume served in an attractive wooden block. I had deep-friend sprats served in a newspaper cone in the style of chips and with sauce – and also served in that handy wooden block. There was also some fresh soda bread and rolls on the side.

We skipped starters and launched into the main course. My gf had a wonderfully presented asparagus risotto. An edible foam had been sprayed on top of the risotto in a few places. Very exciting! My dish was a wholesome lamb shanks in scoth broth. For dessert my gf was presented with a strange narrow cylindrial glass on which was perched a customised spoon. Inside was a tasty lemon posset. I ordered the rum baba with…

Hmmm I’ve left this post unfinished for months!

Tell your mother, if she asks, that maybe we’ll meet some other time. Under the pear trees, in Paradise.

I remember spending many hours happily scouring the local library in my youth. There I discovered the wonderful novels of John Updike. My recollections are dim now, and I will surely have to delve into these books again, but I remember something of the Rabbit series. I think I may have attempted the Witches of Eastwick without completing it and there may have been some short stories. The writing of Updike is rich and beautiful, often focusing on the minutae of the everyday and of memory. Consider this evocative excerpt from The Beloved

His grandfather’s love seemed to arrive from the greatest distance. He dwelt in a far, biblical, brown world. He smoked cigars outside behind the chicken house. His love had a wordless tang, not disagreeable, of admonition. On each of Francis’s birthdays, his grandfather would give him a single dollar bill, removed and unfolded with ceremonical dignity from a wallet worn papery by the rubbing of time, where the child was amazed that any wealth still lingered

Across the Széchenyi lánchíd the Magician strode,  while the Queen sat on her throne peering through orifices to see the Gellert baths below. The diva and the giant were doing other weird things, much of it to do with a descending cremaster muscle. Jacobin pigeons, which look cool, made an appearance. Actually we were not staring in a Cremaster epic at the confleunce of Pest and Buda but in a little Buckinghamshire town. For William Tierney Clark, before trying the construction of his famous chain bridge, first built a prototype in Marlow.

We didn’t find any satyrs with testicle issues, but there were lots of boutiques that cater for women of a certain age and a fine cook shop. My gf was delighted and flitted from crockery to coffee grinders in great excitement. We also found a park by the river in which a unseemly flock of swans, geese and ducks competed for proffered scraps of bread. To be more correct I should say a lamentation of swans, a flush of mallards and a murder of geese were there gathered.

Marlow bridge sign. In a nod to its more famous cousin, Hungarian translation is provided.

Marlow Suspension Bridge.

My gf is in thrall to another mythical figure, who does magical things with food. She has even made an exciting cake based on one of his challenging recipes. So we made the short journey from Marlow to Bray. It is a cute little village full of character, celebrities such as Rolf Harris and Terry Wogan and two famed restaurants, each with three Michelin stars! One is the Roux brothers’ Waterside inn and the other is the Fat Duck run by the ever inventive Heston Blumenthal, the Willy Wonka of the gastrome world. Heston worked in office equipment until he was 29 – a great role model for anyone who wants to change career at thirty.

The Fat Duck. Someday we will go inside.

Not having saved up the requisite cash and booked three months in advance, we contented outselves with Blumenthal’s nearby pub, the Hind’s head. Inside the decor is traditional but there are some obvious Blumenthal touches in the menu – like his triple cooked chips. We enjoyed a drink and then departed for home, our trip to the Fat Duck itself will have to wait for another day.

My gf, very pleased to sit in HB's establishment

On the day of Samhain the gap between world of the living and the world of the dead becomes very thin and easy to pass through. Ghosts roam the land and often return to their old homes. In days that are now past, people would leave a place free at the table to allow their departed relative to join them for supper.  Offerings would be made at graveyards and welcoming candles were put in windows. There was a palpable feeling that the dead were among the living and that they should be welcomed.

In Ireland Samhain is marked by bonfires – the word derives bone fires where the bones of animals were burnt to ward off malign spirits. On that magical night it was believed that predictions about the future could be made – who would be the first to marry or the next to join the ghost world.  The barmbrack, an Irish fruit cake, is part of this tradition. Items such as a pea, a stick, a rag, a small coin (originally a silver sixpence) and a ring were hidden in the cake. Getting pea meant no marraige in the next year, while naturally the ring signalled impending nuptials. The stick warned of an unhappy, tumultous relationship, the rag an impoverished future and the coin a prosporous one.

While preparing my barmbrack I was left alone by ghosts. Probably I was attuned to the other dimension. I followed this recipe. I was able to obtain some fresh yeast for free from my local supermarket.  I soaked the sultanas and raisins in lapsang souchong. After making the dough, the soaked fruit had to be incorporated into the dough and that was a messy, fun job.  While the dough rose, I played some Civ 4 and tried to take over the world with my Aztec army. After expelling the air (and there was really was an audible sigh) I allowed the dough rise some more. It actually grew to become quite sizeable!

I’m happy to say that the barmbrack met with great approval from all who tried it, including my girlfriend who is an expert in these matters. One thing I didn’t do was to add those magical trinkets.

The Barmbrack in all its glory

A slice: to be enjoyed with a dab of butter and a cup of tea

How sweet is the Shepherd’s sweet lot!
From the morn to the evening he stays;
He shall follow his sheep all the day,
And his tongue shall be filled with praise.

- William Blake

For a shepherd, one of the main perks of the job is the abundant supply of the famous pie. However, I can now vouch for the fact that Shepherd’s pie is very tasty even without meat. For some reason, this dish is sometimes referred to as Shepherdess pie. Hans Christian Anderson told of a romance between two china figures, a Sheperdess and a Chimney Sweep, who lived on a table top. They were forced to escape up the chimney to evade the clutches of an evil Satyr, also a china figurine. Guided by the stars above, they slowly made their way to the top of the chimney. Once there, the Shepherdess, overcome by the vastness of the outside world, wanted to return back down the chimney. To eat more of her pie probably.

I had no Satyr to contend with, nor any chimney sweep for my house is gas heated, but Shepherdess pie was the my chosen dish to mark the arrival of my Domestic Goddess gf last Friday. The basic ingredients of the pie filling were leek, celery, carrots and, as they are so abundant right now, pumpkin. These were stir-fried for a few minutes and then some mixed beans, chopped tomato and herbs added to the mix (mixed herbs and cumin). See the details over at good old BBC recipes

This was served to my discerning dinner companion with a glass of Shiraz. My heart fluttered with anxiety as I awaited her verdict. “Its very professional!” came the answer. I agree with her. The pie was so moreish we consumed three large portions between us that evening. All in all, Shepherdess pie was a great success.

Just as life should be enjoyed during our brief existence, so an icecream should be eaten before any calamity should befall it. Just as we may suffer an untimely slip from this mortal coil an icecream may tumble from its conical home onto the pavement of death. We were party to such a shocking occurence during this, our umpteenth trip to Brighton. The victim was a lemon flavoured variety that teetered all to precariously.

Chocolate and lemon icecream - moments before the accident

In 1514 the town of Brighthelmstone was burnt to the ground and only the area known as “the Lanes” survived.  Not far from the Lanes we attended a private view where the photographic works of art college graduates were exhibited. On arrival we were offered generous amounts of Australian wine. What remains now in the memory are images of roses perched near Beachy head from which many a poor soul has leapt.

We enjoyed unseasonal sunshine during this October weekend. Walking on the promenade, it was as if it were summer. People lounged outside their little beach huts and children cycled with stabilisers. We sat on the beach, read the Sunday papers and walked over the pebbles barefoot to the water’s edge (well I didn’t quite make it that far).

We stayed in the Abbey hotel, making full use of its self-catering facilities. My gf bounded around that little kitchen with joy, stretching what can be done with a microwave oven and an egg to the limit. A wonderful gnocci dish that included melted cheese and condiments supplied by Wetherspoons was conjured. We certainly had built up an appetite after a long walk around Hove, during which we discovered a South African establishment, numerous delis and a street full of charity shops.

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This is a first effort at documenting our Sunday outings!

A lot of apples are harvested every Autumn from the garden of my girlfriend’s parents. On a recent visit they kindly gave me a bag of russet apples. On the day of the crumble, I went with my very significant other and I went on an amble down the Thames. We visited Iffley Lock as usual, but in a burst of enthusiasm we made it all the way to Sandford Lock.

Sandford Lock

On the way back up north, we came about a bunch of blackberries. Bemoaning our lack of vestibule in which to deliver this treasure to my humble kitchen, we contented ourselves with carrying as much as we could by hand. Of course the promise of a delicious apple&blackberry crumble had already formed itself tantalisingly in our minds.

It was a joint effort, I was manning the peeler while my SO did did the crumble thing. Cinnamon was in there as is traditional. The recipe was something like this (but obviously with blackberries).

http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/database/applecrumble_2971.shtml

And here are some photos of the results. We were able to spend sometime in the garden enjoying the September sunshine along with the crumble

Desperate to impress a great baker I know, I dug out my treasured Delia Smith book, How to Cook, and searched for an easy-to-make, yet delicious, cake. I happened upon the Irish Tea Bread (I don’t think bread is a good description), which Delia herself praised as being the most popular in her kitchen when she was preparing everything for the book. You can find the full recipe here on Delia’s website. I soaked the sultanas and raisins for a couple of hours rather than overnight and I added some dried apricots. I used a fan-oven which possibly explains the hard crust and sllightly over-moist interior of this cake. Still, it tasted very good and past its sternest test when the aforementioned great baker tried it out!

This is a remix version of Squeaky Mouse’s Orange and Chocolate Chip muffins that is included in her famous teafactory blog. I’m planning to do a few of her recipes but thought I’d start with one of the more simple ones (and I had most the ingredients). The gluten-free flour was replaced with normal flour, the chocolate chip by ground almond (not a good choice as it absorbs a lot of liquid), and the soya milk by cow’s milk. The muffins came out a bit dense and flat as I managed to forget to put in the baking powder! I added some sesame seeds on top. On the day I was baking this I had a painful sore throat so I couldn’t really enjoy eating them. Its two days later now and they taste a lot better.