feast day

Being brought a cup of tea in bed is simply the most luxurious thing.

I no longer do a slow waking procedure in the morning - tea in bed listening to John Humphreys harangue some soul on the radio - although I must have done in the past. Anyway, I took the day off for birthday reasons and very much enjoyed the leisurely morning slot, followed by a breakfast of cherries (picked the day before from my sister's tree) and a plain slab of sponge cake - made by my mother for my nephew's birthday.

Thence to the rose garden in Regent's Park to meet HG for a cheesecake-off. She made the chocolate version, and I the plain vanilla. I baked mine the day before so it would be maximally delicious, but I must admit that hers was the finer example. Exquisite is how I would describe it, if pressed. The crumb of the base was just so; the centre that perfect firmness of something like semi-soft butter, on which the retreating knife leaves a small swirl. The first time HG and I made chocolate cheesecake it was with frowns of disbelief, however I must urge you to try it: it retains that slight sour note you hope for, and somehow fails to taste chocolate-ey - instead becoming transcribed into, I fancy, a flavour-cousin of chocolate.

HG let on that, having always used Green and Black's, she had converted to the Divine dark chocolate (and in this instance to Lindt), for the slightly less gritty texture. I completely concur. I also moved away from G&B, towards Lindt, and thence to any old supermarket chocolate with 70% or more cocoa solids. For this cheesecake, or brownies, I would use the better chocolate too, though.

Anyway, for the first time ever, water from the water bath Houdini-ed into my foil-wrapped tin and the base became soggy. I was making two cakes at the same time, in different sized tins, with the result that the tall one I took my nephew was undercooked, and the HG version was rather shorter and a smidge overcooked. I was disappointed, but no one else seemed to know what I was grousing about.

Dear, dear: I meant this post to be about the wonderful chateaubriand the gent treated me to that evening, but I have written too much already. Both cheesecake recipes are found in Nigella Lawson's 'How to be a Domestic Goddess', with the amendment on HG's part of doubling the biscuit base quantities for the chocolate version.

kohlslaw

Kohlrabi is back in the veg box. It is a vegetable that takes slightly more effort to prepare - unlike salad, spinach or tomatoes, for example, which can be quickly washed and thrown into something. There are also those extra moments one's brain takes to think of which dish precisely it could be made into... and another minute trying to decide if you actually want to eat that particular dish.

Seeing two huge examples of this vegetable sitting on a bunch of carrots, I made a snap decision to coleslaw them. I was inspired by my Mother who always seems to make the slaw, but quite differently to that you can buy. Firstly, it is always to 'use up a cabbage' from her garden; secondly she enjoys the addition of some very finely shredded onion; thirdly she shreds it all by hand with a knife ,and her chopping is a work of art, honed by decades of cooking for her brood; finally she makes a very thin sauce - a skerrick of mayonnaise with generous amounts of vinegar.

Children never appreciate anything: I used to think it was altogether too wholesome without the loading of mayo. Let me assure you, it lacks nothing and is wonderfully astringent and crunchy.

My curiosity to use kohlrabi instead of cabbage - an obvious replacement, given their close cousinliness - overrode my innate aversion to hand-grating anything other than cheese. Like taking medicine, the best way is to jump straight in without thinking and soon I had reduced my washed, peeled carrots and half a kohlrabi to a bright jungle, to which I added white wine vinegar, mayonnaise and a pinch of salt.

I discovered, and fried, the last, lonely pork loin chop in the fridge to sit next to my kohlslaw* and a few cold, boiled new potatoes from another part of that fruitful, but crammed fridge.

For a collection of unwanted food stuffs, it was remarkably good: henceforth it will be one of those meals I go out of my way to buy ingredients for. Although next time I absolutely must do mashed potato to go with it - heaven!



* I was inordinately proud of this ridiculous term I thought up. Of course, on 'googling' it to check, I was reminded that there is no such thing as an original thought. My hopes hadn't been so dashed since the day I discovered several websites dedicated to gloves found in the street...