Pi

My first go at making a raised pie (below) - all looking quite nice until I tried to turn it out, causing a prompt and undignified collapse. Still, the filling was pretty yummy.

How to -

Stewing steak

Shallots

Fennel

Mushrooms

Fry to brown these off then deglaze the pan with red wine. Add a large amount of good beef stock, transfer to a caserole dish and cook for many hours (I cooked mine for 5) on a low heat (below 150 for certain).

Whilst that's going on, make the shortcrust pastry:

Flour, fat (2:1) - 1lb of flour was enough to make three decent sized pies. I used 50/50 butter and lard as the shortening. Pinch of salt. 120ml of cold water.

Blind bake the pastry in the pie moulds for at least 20 minutes if not 30, at 200 degrees. I tried 20, wasn't enough, causing the pastry to stick.

When the pasty is done, add the cooked caserole mix (thickening up the liquid with a roux), stick on a lid and bake for another 20 minutes.

Job done.

Pie.

Makin Kulfi

Dinner party coming up on Thursday, the wonderful Pam and Keith coming to ours for some Indian feasting action.

Its best to leave the delicitate spicing to the subcontinental genius that is my wife, so I thought I'd have a go at making some Kulfi, or Indian Icecream.

Wondering through tesco the other day we chanced upon some rather nice looking turkish delight, and having picked up some decent dark chocolate I set about making some chocolate kulfi and some turkish delight kulfi, to be served together.

Ingredients:

6 pints of whole milk
225g of sugar
turkish delight
rose water
saffron
red food colouring
two bars of dark choloate
some butter
ground seeds from about 8-10 green cardamon pods

To start, the boring slow bit - the milk needed to be reduced by two thirds down to two pints. The point of this is to increase the fat content of the milk and, I think, to concentrate the sugary quality of the lactose therein.

So into a large heavy bottomed pan, and gently boil for about 90 minutes stirring frequently to make sure it doesn't burn. A bit like making risotto but much much longer. Some would say meditative, I would say dull.

Once reduced down, mix in the sugar and divide into two pans. Into one pan, chuck in some chopped up rose turkish delight and melt down as far as possible. Then add rose water to taste and some red food colouring as otherwise it'll look a little insipid.

Into the other bowl, add the chocolate - I melted the bars with a little butter - and mix. Then chuck in the ground cardamon to taste, the slight lemon tartness of the spice cuts through the rich chocolate.

Allow the two mixtures to cool in moulds then put into the freezer.

Now the great thing here is you don't need an icecream maker. I think its because as the milk is reduced down, there is less water to freeze and therefore less icecrystals form than would for normal icecream.

Pictures to follow, but highly yummy.

Food glorious food

Despite the shameless efforts of the New People’s Princess to steal my limelight, my birthday passed in the joyful fug of a procession of excellent restaurants gilded with the happy delight of a smart hotel.

So yes, it was our bi-annual epicurean pilgrimage: Shelley well and truly raised the bar this time, with two nights at the so chic St Martin’s Lane Hotel, Friday-night ruby with class at Veeraswamy, and to top it all off Saturday evening indulgence at the blissful Clos Maggiore.

Arriving at the hotel, a triumph of the form-over-function design guru Philippe Starck (a man who’s reality bears little resemblance to that of most in this world) I spotted at least one Nathan Barley haircut amongst the acid yellow walls and Zoolander fashion-music. The quirky furniture, which included a large chess set and some gnomes, looked on … quirkily, dismissive of my ordinariness.

We ascended in a lift bathed in blue light; we both looked as if we were trapped in a giant sunbed. On the walls, video-art played, and all around wafted elegant foot shuffling lift music.

The room: minimalist. Utterly beautiful, clean lines, with vast windows looking out on to Covent Garden. Coloured mood lighting was available, although at times I needed to resort to unplugging things as I simply could not find the damn switch. Not very minimalist of me. In an office block opposite us, a man is stood at the window looking into our room, hoping no doubt for some voyeuristic shenanigans. We did not oblige. We are married, afterall.

Off to our first gastro-treat. Stepping gaily through Leicester Square we make it to Veeraswamy – eager to arrive on time, on threat that if we did not arrive within 15 minutes of our slot it would be an evening at the Pizza Hut buffet or the Aberdeen Steak House for us. But we made it. Glad we did, some lovely food.

Shelley started with a bowl of deep-fried leaves, which sounds awful but was in fact rather nice. Think tempura but using curry leaves, coriander and the like. I had paneer, light and mousse-like, sandwiching a thin layer of coriander and mint. Delish.

On to mains, makhani all round (paneer with pointless morels, chicken for me) with some glorious sides, good naan and fluffy rice. All washed down with a poised St Veran chosen by my chosen. Desert was a delight, the greatest kulfi ever known.

How could we top this evening off? With sleep of course, our favourite!

As is so often the case, morning followed night. As the light shone through the vast windows we slipped gracefully into consciousness and set off on our day in search of culture. After managing about 90 minutes at Tate Britain we gave up and searched for champagne, which we found at Kettners. The echoing room, the disinterested staff, and the gaggle – no flock – of loud elderly ladies let out for an afternoon on the town caused us to abandon this place and find pasties to eat, as we passed from the ridiculous to the sublime.

True sublimity awaited, however, for the toppest treat of all lay ahead of us at Clos Maggiore. From the knowledgeable and friendly service, to the warm unfussy ambience, to the delicate and complex food, and the intelligent and often bold wine selections, it was a superb evening.

Pumpkin and pine nut soup was the yellow of an August evening, soothing and warm. Tian of smoked aubergine caponata with mozzarella croquette offered contrasting peaks of delight, set off with the bold and perfect choice of a sweet wine from the Jura. Tagliatelli with truffle cream came with a mass of that wonderful fungus, swathing carefully made pasta, to be followed with a complex mix of gnocchi, blue cheese, walnut pesto and poached pear which paid testament to the chef’s clever and well balanced palate. To follow, a happy and unctuous selection of cheeses and then, joy of joys, the lightest of chocolate fondants.

Fig 1: Tian of smoked aubergine

Fig 2: Petit fours

For me, life cannot get better than this. Wonderful. So it is at that point I shall draw to a close, on a true high, before the mundanity of this, my main life, returns; before it intrudes on this vision of excellence.