Cooking comfort

I am frazzled. I have had such a wonderful month - two blogs nearly completed to describe it all - but I have barely had a night at home.

Last week I returned from a visit to my Mother laden with her garden produce: tomato (including tigerella toms), cabbage, runner beans and baby courgettes in yellow and green. Something my mother always cooks with the summer 'glut' is steamed runner beans, served with fried tomato and bacon. That's it: super quick, and ever so fresh tasting. I had a wave of nostalgia from being in my childhood house, so I re-created this dish back in London to remind me of home. I also had gnocchi with it, to use up some leftovers, and make it more substantial. No dressing - just the bacon fat drizzled over and pepper ground over.

Tonight I needed a quick fix of comfort so I made cauliflower cheese, my top nursery food. I can't go without carbs at bedtime, so I had this with rice (incidentally, macaroni is my usual pairing). I made the cheese sauce with a dab of English mustard and mature cheddar - and extra cheddar shaved over: a blanket of comfort.

St. John, Smithfield

To start, rolled pig's spleen wrapped in bacon, some vinegary cornichons alongside. We drank 'Domaine des Roy' 2008 - delighting my vanity - which the gent described as 'like a handful of lake reeds dipped in lemon juice'.

JD: 'What is a spleen for?'
SD: 'Venting'

SD and PB had an amazing terrine, of which was said: 'How can you, like, mash up a pig and a pigeon and come out with something so light?' and to which I will add, after only a taste I am spoilt for life. I have added terrine to my list of dishes to cook.

At this point we moved on to drink a wine so good that I was moved to take a bad photograph to remember the name: notes reveal it to be 2002 for sure, and 'Laurier domaine' for unsure. The gent and I feasted on pigeon, peas and bacon with buttered greens. The pigeon very pink, very soft, more strongly flavoured than I anticipated.

And so to the finale: Madeleines were freshly baked for us, and a sweet muscat wine imbibed by the gent. The torrential rain and amazing storm which we slipped home in was not enough to quench the inner glow of that whatsit-red, beautiful, inventive food and new friends.

www.stjohnrestaurant.com

ugly kolrabi!

Some veg-box kolrabi, rescued from neglect in the bottom of the fridge, needed eating. A quick glance through some books brought about this dish, which accompanied fish and potato for a quick dinner.

Thinly sliced, raw kolrabi layered up in a shallow bowl
Lemon juice and olive oil
Thyme from the garden, semi-denuded from the twig and scattered over

I was surprised by how tasty this was, and would definitely make it again for a speedy and different supper.

birthday food

Having just moved my life into storage for the summer, birthdays were the last thing on my mind. The gent – henceforth to be called ‘The dreamcake’ – soothed me with words of encouragement and housed me for a homeless weekend. (By the foodie by, to say thank you for this I took us to a local Vietnamese place on Saturday evening, which I am still in two minds about. I really want to like it, but it is speedy and shonky rather than delectable.)

Then on Sunday I awoke to scrambled eggs and smoked salmon on muffins, with juice and tea. It was properly the best scrambled egg in the world: buttery and soft. Later I was royally treated to high tea at the palace of tea-time in Stokie: they bake the cakes on the premises and their sandwiches are really delicious. We discussed how to keep sandwiches fresh for picnics, whilst piling jam and cream onto scones, and the dreamcake took photos so we can forever remember the great china and the auspicious day.

We lazed in the park with the papers after this: he read out the restaurant review and I read out bits of an interview with Mr Vivienne Westwood.

A brief savoury interlude of pesto pasta revived us, and then the dreamcake again lived up to his name and revealed a hazelnut cake he had made himself! Imagine! Unable to find ground hazelnuts he had had to roast, skin and be-crumb the nuts himself – an absolute labour of love – with the inventive method of encasing the nuts in greaseproof and bashing with a rolling pin.
Reader, not only was the initial of my name outlined on top of the cake, but the whole thing tasted moist and divine. And with Valdo prosecco alongside, I was in heaven.

It will over-gild the lily to report this, but a birthday isn't a day for modesty, so I will go ahead: I was gifted a box set of original Elizabeth David paperbacks, and 'Venus in the Kitchen' by Pilaff Bey. They are in my new bedroom and I can’t wait to cook from them to test out the stove. And, perhaps, the dreamcake.