Happy meals - nature's bounty

We've been lucky this week; a good friend gifted D some of the produce from his lovely garden, which meant we had a huge tub of tomatoes that were just on the verge of overripe and some lovely plums and greengages. Although we meal plan to the point of almost obsession, the original plan was jettisoned to ensure that this got used.

And what a lovely supper it was too! I cut the tomatoes in half and placed them, cut side up, in an oven proof dish, seasoned liberally with not only salt and pepper but onion granules, garlic granules and a few chilli flakes too. Drizzled with balsamic glaze and added a few thick slices of butter. Then roasted for 50 minutes until the tomatoes were collapsing into themselves and the buttery juices. Stirred through 4 finely chopped anchovies, a small handful of capers and a flurry of Parmesan before adding pasta and some starchy pasta water to create a clinging sauce. More Parmesan and, voila. 

This was followed by a greengage dessert cake, made from this recipe, warmed through in the microwave and served with a good splodge of cream. We don't often have pudding midweek, but this seemed warranted. I liked the texture of this cake very much, a good, dense, buttery crumb with a sweet crust, and the sharp greengages contrasted well. 

The remainder of the fruit has been transformed, by the very talented D, into a spiced compote which will be delicious with yogurt in the coming weeks. I am very tempted to do some homemade granola as well - Nigella has a couple of recipes that look interesting, including one with olive oil.

Happy Meals - Variations on a Sunday roast

Before the food - the pedantry. I have noticed that in some post titles I use a hyphen and in some I use a colon and it is irritating me. To the extent that I may spend all day tomorrow going back through hundreds and hundreds of blog posts to try and achieve uniformity. That is all.

Yesterday, D roasted a splendid piece of rolled pork belly, low and slow initially and then blasted with heat so that the meat was juicy and tender but the outer skin crunched loud enough to hear across the room when you bit into it. Just as it should be. The pork sat on a trivet above a tray of apples and onions and cider, and the resulting concoction was just as flavourful as you might imagine, full of bite. We spooned it over the meat where it clung, more a sauce than a gravy and none the worse for that.

I was in charge of sides but decided to do something a little different to a standard complement of roasted roots, and so made, for the first (but not the last) time, a dish of Lyonnaise potatoes and some kale, braised with pancetta, liberally seasoned with black pepper and nutmeg, and finished with just a lick of cream. My main complaint with regards this latter dish is that there was enough of it - the kale cooked down a little more than I was expecting. 

Sunday cooking is lovely - slow, considered...the house becoming steadily more fragrant with cooking smells as the afternoon wends its way into the evening. Sunday cooking is chopping vegetables while perched on a stool at the kitchen island, with a cup of tea to hand and the radio burbling in the background. A very pleasing memory to take into the working week.

Recent eats: an interminable January

I think January might have lasted forever. And even though we are, let's be honest, over a third of the way through February, February has just proved itself to be something of a January 2.0. Cold, wet, miserable and utterly ennui-inducing. D is only finally now shaking off a cough he's had since before Christmas, I've been feeling rundown and lurgy-ish and none of this has got 2025 off to a particularly dazzling start.

I decided to dust off the blog to do a recent eats post and went searching through my phone for pictures to share - needless to say, found very little. Little by way of food pictures, that is - if you want a picture of the cat asleep on the back of the sofa then I have several hundred iterations. We really haven't left the house very much, one exception being a lunchtime trip to White Cloth Hall, a relatively new Leeds venture which features a number of street food(ish) type vendors. We shared a Jamie Thiccston sandwich from Morty's Focacceria which was an absolute beast of a thing, but delicious for all of that. I would have liked slightly more burrata but, then, I think most things would benefit from more burrata. In general, the ratio of bread to filling was pretty good, there was plenty of salty, slippery mortadella and it wasn't so ridiculously huge you couldn't fit it in your mouth in one go to get the full benefit of the layers.

We've done some home cooking, of course,  and have enjoyed several dishes from Meera Sodha's latest book, Dinner which I commend to your attention, especially if you wish to up your vegetarian and vegan cooking game. Having said that, looking back over the archive meal plan, I think one of my top food moments from January was carnivorous; tucking into haggis, neeps and tatties on Burns night, smothered in a fabulous whisky sauce. Classics are classics for a reason. Oh, and I baked some blondies for my Dad's birthday which turned out rather nicely. 

But all in all not an awful lot to share from these first few weeks of the year. We plod on.

Happy meals - Gordon Ramsay’s pork with peppers

 

There are few things my husband enjoys more than a monster pork chop. And these pork chops, from Swaledale Butchers, were indeed monsters. The layer of fat was truly obscene; these were the Marlon Brando at-the-end-of-his-life of pigs. But the meat itself was incredibly tasty and succulent.

One of our favourite ways to eat pork chops is a Gordon Ramsay recipe, which he published in his Complete Cookery Course. It is also available online - here. It's incredibly simple - peppers and red onion cooked low and slow, olive oil, a splash of vinegar, a pinch of sugar. The sweet and sour veg cut through the meat without overpowering or overwhelming the porcine star of the show. As a carb monster, it is rare that I eat a dish which solely consists of meat and veg but it is really all you need here. Although if someone were to offer me some crusty bread for mopping, I'd never turn it down.

Recipe corner: maritozzi (Roman cream buns)

It's been a good few weeks since we got back from Rome and we still find ourselves talking frequently about the trip, which is probably a sign that a) it was a good holiday and b) we need to get ourselves back there as soon as ever we can. Which, unless someone wins the lottery, is unlikely to be this year. So, in the meantime, we console ourselves with glorious Italian food.

This weekend, I made maritozzi, which are light, sweet buns split and filled with whipped cream. One restaurant we went to also served a savoury version wherein the buns were split and filled with whipped anchovy butter. As rich as it sounds. For mine, I made two versions - one where the sweetened cream was rippled through with raspberry puree and another where it was combined with the sweet pistachio paste that I brought home from Rome. But, really, the world is absolutely your oyster here. 

The buns themselves are a lovely texture managing to be both light and robust, and while they are sweet they are not overly so; I split one and had it toasted with butter and jam and that was also delicious. I suppose they are tending towards the brioche, but slightly less rich.

Chef's note one: I baked a test batch for 20 minutes and they were beginning to dry out, 18 was perfect. But, it's always worth starting to test slightly early. For an enriched dough like this one, you want the internal temperature to be between about 90 and 93 degrees to ensure they're cooked.

Chef's note two: I never have whole milk in, we are skimmed all the way in this house. So, after a bit of research online, I discovered that I could combine 290ml of skimmed milk with 2 tsp of double cream which should achieve around the same fat content as whole milk.

Chef's note three: you could make these the night before and leave to prove in the fridge. Ensure that they come to room temperature before baking. Having said that, they seem to last extremely well in a sealed container.

Ingredients

300ml whole milk (see note above)

530g strong white bread flour

1 tbsp fast action dried yeast

1/2 tsp salt

1 medium egg yolk

70g runny honey

60ml olive oil (plus extra for greasing)

Makes 10 buns

Pour the milk into a small saucepan. Whisk together the honey and the olive oil. Place the dry ingredients into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook and break in the egg yolk.

Set the saucepan of milk over a low heat and bring it up to a low heat (the best way to test this is with a clean finger. It should not feel too hot to the touch). When the milk is warm, whisk in the honey and oil mix. Turn the stand mixer on to a low speed, and, when the egg is incorporated, start to pour in the liquid.

Once everything is added, and the dough is coming together, whack the speed up a couple of notches and knead for 7 mins (note: if you're doing this by hand it may well take longer. Be aware that this is quite a soft, sticky dough and a mixer is preferable if at all possible).

Transfer the dough to a lightly oiled bowl, cover and leave to prove for 60 - 90 minutes, or overnight in the fridge.

When making the buns, divide the dough into 10 equal pieces, shape into balls and place on two lined baking trays. Prove for a further 30 minutes, switching the oven on to 180 around 10 minutes before you are ready to bake to ensure it is up to temperature. Bake these for around 18 - 20 minutes, turning the trays round halfway through if the temperature distribution in your oven is uneven.

Once cooled, these can be split and served with any sweetened, flavoured cream filling of your choice. 

Fresh from the oven

Scruffily filled with raspberry cream

Recipe corner: labneh with roasted tenderstem broccoli

Of COURSE it was the case that on one of the hottest days of the year I should have planned an evening meal that required a lot of time spent cooking. Just as on a similarly warm day a few weeks ago, I went to a pastry making class (at Betty’s Cookery School and it was tremendous fun, albeit attempting flaky pastry in 20 degree plus heat is rather messy). My sense of timing has always been admirable. 

Anyway, last Saturday night we had sort-of mezze. I say sort of because the dishes and flavours were taken from a range of cuisines and thrown together in what I would like to think was a fusion (rather than confusion) of gastronomic experiences. But I fully concede I might be deluded on that point; never let it be said I achieve authenticity in my cooking. 

We had D’s amazing Merguez sausages, roasted and served with a simple houmous and a few whole chickpeas for texture. We had Ottolenghi’s iman bayaldi, a stewed aubergine dish that I’ve been meaning to make for ages. We had za’tar flatbreads. And we had roasted broccoli on labneh. 

So, this latter dish was inspired by two things; a perusal of the original Moro cookbook, and a starter I ate at the late, lamented Reliance sometime last year. (For those not au fait with the Leeds pub scene, The Reliance was a fantastic gastropub and Leeds institution, and the menu was magic for interesting vegetable based dishes).

Even if you don’t try this particular combination, I’d urge you to give labneh a go - so easy and SO delicious. It found it to be similar in taste and texture to Boursin cheese; my next batch I am going to combine with cracked black pepper and smear all over a baguette. 

Ingredients

For the labneh (first stage):

300g full fat Greek yoghurt

Generous pinch of salt

(Second stage):

Small clove of garlic

Spring onion, finely chopped

Salt and plenty of black pepper

For the garnish:

100g trimmed tenderstem broccoli spears

Tbsp olive oil (plus extra for garnish)

Tbsp flaked almonds

1-2 tbsp pickled jalapeño chillis, roughly chopped (optional)

Serves 2 as part of a mezze spread or side dish

Making labneh is incredibly easy but you will need a large bowl, a muslin cloth, a wooden spoon and room in the fridge.

Line the bowl with the cloth and spoon in your yoghurt. Add salt and stir through. Then, gather up the sides of the cloth and tie round the handle of the wooden spoon (other kitchen implements will work too), which you have laid across the top of the bowl, so that you end up with a little money bag of yoghurt, suspended over the bowl. The bag should not touch the bottom of the bowl. 

I feel like I have repeated the word bowl too often in that paragraph.

Leave overnight in the fridge. Mine was suspended for about 22 hours in total and I thought the consistency was perfect but the longer it stays in there, the firmer it will be.

When you come to make the dish, preheat the oven to 180 degrees and toss the broccoli in olive oil and seasoning. Once the oven has come to temperature, you will roast for around 20 mins.

Drain any liquid from the bottom of the labneh bowl and remove the cheese from the muslin cloth. Beat lightly to loosen and then you can add any flavouring you wish. I kept this relatively simple by stirring through a little garlic, a spring onion and lots of seasoning. Spread the labneh on a serving plate.

Lightly toast the almonds in a dry frying pan over a low heat.

When the broccoli is roasted and the ends beginning to look a little charred, remove from the oven and place on the labneh. Drizzle over a little olive oil and sprinkle on the almonds and jalapeño chillies (if using).

Note: if you’re not a fan of crunchy broccoli, you may wish to blanche the spears in advance of roasting.

Weekend eats (and kitchen talk) - April 2023

As I mentioned in my last but one post, we recently had some major construction work done on the back of our house, which included completely reinventing our formerly tiny kitchen. Previously, we had a fairly large (for a bog-standard 1930s semi) dining room which had a LOT of dead space, partly due to a very small and rather pointless back extension. At the same time, the kitchen was a small galley, with limited storage and limited surface space. It certainly wasn't comfortable for two people to cook in at the same time. The oven was ancient, and one of the five gas hobs hadn't worked in a decade (let's gently gloss over the reason why neither of us ever thought to get it repaired or, indeed, why the oven itself with many year's worth of baked on grime never found itself at the receiving end of a deep clean.) The surfaces themselves were appalling, the decor that peculiar shade of pale, sickly yellowish beige that seemed to be so popular back in the seventies. In short, a bit of a nightmare, especially for people who enjoy cooking and want the kitchen to be at the centre of the home.

Circumstances at last allowed for us to rip it all out and start again. It has been a long, painful and ludicrously expensive process but we are now there, bar a little bit of final painting, and to say that I am delighted is an understatement.

From this...

To this:

Isn't it lovely?

I'll admit, though, I've found it a tiny bit difficult to get into the swing of cooking in the new space. It doesn't really feel completely mine yet and I'm a bit nervous about making a mess. So D has done most of the heavy lifting, cookery speaking, so far. This weekend was the first time I really started to relax and enjoy it a little bit more. I made floury buns and coleslaw to accompany some excellent hotdog sausages on Saturday evening, and on Sunday we had a joyous Welsh rarebit for breakfast and bacon chops with mustard mash, smoky creamed spinach and roasted asparagus for supper and it was all very, very nice indeed. 

Easter Sunday, a feast of duck

It has been so long since I last posted that I’m not even going to bother commenting. Onwards!

The big news chez nous is that we have recently replaced our kitchen. Gone is the poky little galley with the slightly yellowish walls. In its place a big, bright room with a huge island and a statement radiator. I’ll share some before and after pictures at some point.

Easter Sunday lunch, then, was a chance to flex some cooking muscles which we haven’t been able to do in a while. And it was delicious.

Duck and black pudding bonbons with sweet and sour roasted plums. We often make these bonbons at Christmas and, once the  confit legs have been brined, slow cooked in duck fat and then roasted the final stage is simplicity itself. The meat is so tender that it only needs a bit of black pudding and a pinch of Chinese five spice and it holds itself together perfectly in a sphere which can then be bread-crumbed and fried. You may note that head-chef D favours bonbons that tend towards the snooker-ball size.

Brined duck breast with cabbage, ginger cream and chilli oil. An Ottolenghi accompaniment - sounds odd, proved absolutely delicious. 

Cherry frangipane tart with clementine ice cream. D has conceived something of a passion for pastry recently and he does it very well. The ice cream is simplicity itself and lovely both on its own and as an accompaniment. 

After months of ready meals, sandwiches and takeaways, utter bliss.

Recipe corner: Gymkhana's tandoori lamb chops

Halfway through February already - the days are slipping by at a frankly alarming rate and I can't believe how long it has been since I last blogged. 

Excitingly, it is entirely possible that we have already had our top dish of the year thanks to a fabulously foodie short break in Paris (abroad!) However, up until this last weekend, I felt my cooking mojo had been somewhat lacking. Looking back over our archived meal plan for January, I'm a little surprised at how much we cooked actually because I definitely felt that it was all a bit meh. It could just be the January blues (pernicious blighters) and the fact that after the Christmas festivities, things are always a little bit flat. 

Anyway, early on in the month we had a sneaky short break down in London, primarily to see my family for the first time since before the pandemic. And it was wonderful. My brother and sister in law are fantastic hosts and I don't think I have ever eaten a better Spanish omelette than the one that V cooked us as part of a tapas spread. The children, my gorgeous nieces and nephew, had, unsurprisingly, changed enormously in the last two years, but were as fun as ever, and super tolerant of their aged auntie. We spent a brilliant day with them. And the icing on the cake was the fact that the night before we had a superlative dinner at Mayfair's Gymkhana, a restaurant I have been keen to visit for a long time.

We were not disappointed. If you like Indian food (we do) then this is a must-visit. We had the tasting menu which, I must admit, defeated us in terms of sheer quantity but the flavours and skilful balancing of spices had us in full on plate-licking mode initially (until we got so full we could barely move!) We'd love to go again and maybe order a la carte to manage capacity issues. 

The star of the evening were the tandoori lamb chops which, D declared, ruined tandoori lamb chops for him forever - and I quite agree. While the starting point was undoubtedly meat of the highest quality, luscious and tender and tumbling off the bone, the flavours of the marinade were fantastic - recognisable to the Western palate as "tandoori" but with a complexity that is lacking in your bog standard order-from-up-the-road. 

Unfortunately, Gymkhana's kitchen has yet to produce a recipe book BUT the recipe for the lamb chops is online - when I discovered this fact they went straight on the meal plan and we cooked them this weekend. They did not disappoint; the only real point of difference we could discern was the fact that we cooked them under our grill, so they lacked the note of char produced by a tandoor over; the next time we make them, we will be firing up the barbecue. I made a few little tweaks as I went along - exceedingly minor - but the original recipe, along with some other stunning looking dishes can be found here.

Some notes - this requires two marinades, the first overnight, so you do need to prepare in advance. Some ingredients are a little obscure - I bought the kasoori methi (dried fenugreek leaves) and mustard oil online. The original recipe called for red chilli powder; now I know that our chilli powder is EXCEEDINGLY hot and didn't want that here (it wasn't in keeping with the original). I also know that a smoked paprika / chilli powder combination is sometimes suggested as a sub for certain types of Indian chilli powder, so that is what I did. The resulting lamb had a tingle but was not overwhelming; if you like chilli heat then you may wish to adjust my quantities upwards. Oh, and, goes without saying - use the best possible meat you can for this because that really is the bedrock of the dish.

Ingredients

8 lamb cutlets (or 1 8 bone rack of lamb)

First marinade:

Tbsp salt

3 fat cloves of garlic

2 inch (approx) piece of root ginger

2 tsp chilli powder

2 tsp smoked paprika

Tbsp kasoori methi

Small red onion, crushed with a mallet or rolling pin

Second marinade:

Tbsp salt

3 tsp chilli powder

3 tsp smoked paprika

7 tbsp Greek yoghurt

2 fat cloves of garlic

Inch (approx) pieces of root ginger

2 tbsp garam masala

2 tbsp mustard oil

Serves 2 greedy people (with sides)

Assemble your first marinade. Make a garlic and ginger paste: crush or finely grate the garlic, weigh, and then grate on an equivalent weight of root ginger and squish together with the flat of a knife. Bruise whatever remains of the ginger with whatever implement you used to crush the onion.  Combine the paste and the whole ginger with the other ingredients and add the lamb, mixing well and ensuring the lamb is well coated in spice. You may wish to do this in a large plastic bag rather than a bowl. Refrigerate, covered, (or in the bag) overnight.

Assemble your second marinade, making the garlic and ginger paste as before and this time discarding any of the ginger that you don't use. Combine the paste with all the other ingredients and then, in goes the lamb. Marinate for a further six hours or so.

To cook - grill (or barbecue), turning every few minutes until the centre of the cutlets has reached around 58 degrees (this should give you a medium result which is perfect for this dish but, of course, cook for longer if preferred).

The Food Wot I Ate - a 2021 retrospective

2021 was the year that started with a lockdown and ended with not-a-lockdown-but-most-of-us-choosing-to-stay-indoors-anyway. It did a good impression, in parts, of being normal but it really wasn't. It was the year where many of us queued up like dutiful citizens to get not one, not two but three jabs in the hope it would grant us freedom but then realised that freedom was slightly scary. A funny old time.

In the latter half of the year, as reflected in my occasional blog posts, D and I tried to get back into the swing of eating out and we were rewarded with some absolutely fabulous meals. Whether it was because after twelve months of home cooking and takeaways the novelty of restaurant food triumphed over all critical faculties, or that the restaurants we visited were just that good it is impossible to be entirely sure, but we were blessed with some truly superlative dishes. And I haven't even told you about our trip to Roots yet at the back end of the year, where Tommy Banks's team is doing fantastic things on the banks of the River Ouse.

It's been tough to narrow it down, but there are definitely a few dishes that deserve an extra special mention:

Starter / Snack of the year:

It faced stiff competition, but the "prawn toast" at Lake Road Kitchen wins the day. A heady combination of fresh, bouncy prawn, garlic butter and a crispy brioche coating. The whole table could probably have just sat and eaten a bucket of these and been perfectly content. Nothing outlandish going on with the flavours and ingredients, but flawless execution shows that it isn't always necessary to push boundaries - garlicky, buttery seafoody goodness will always be a pleasure to eat.

Bread of the year:

Not just of the year but probably ever - the brioche at Raby Hunt has to be tasted to be believed. It really says something that in a magical multi course tasting extravaganza, the bread course is still the memory that really lingers. Special mention, though, to Roots where the warm sourdough was served with what they described as "cheese custard" and I will describe to you as "grown-up Dairylea". Yum.

Meat / fish of the year:

Often, the meat and fish courses on a menu are slightly less exciting than the beginning and end of the meal - don't you think? The snacks and starters and desserts are where much of the innovation and fireworks tend to take place. I say that - but then, am reminded with a smile of the amazing lobster ravioli at Raby Hunt, or the doughnut stuffed with venison and damson jam at Roots. Still, the stand out for me is, I think, the amazing lamb shoulder at Le Cochon Aveugle. A buttery potato pancake, topped with shredded lamb, yoghurt and black garlic. I might be a little biased, since lamb is my absolute favourite meat to eat, but this was a really high quality piece of cooking.

Cheese course of the year:

D and I absolutely love it when restaurants do something a little different for the cheese course. I mean, we love it when we're presented with a big cheese trolley as well (who isn't?) but it's exciting to see something else - and the soufflé at Raby Hunt is the perfect case in point. The vin jaune sauce and walnuts added different flavour notes and textures but the star of the show was the fluffy, cheesy cloud trembling in the middle - at once both incredibly light and fearsomely rich. Bliss.

Dessert of the year:

Again, in the face of stiff competition, Lake Road Kitchen triumphs here for me. I still think about that Savarin-Brillat cheesecake on a fairly regular basis. Simple - a plain cheesecake and a couple of fruity twiddles - but perfect. A special mention, though, to Inver's rice pudding which...well, suggested to me that maybe rice pudding isn't the worst thing in the world after all but that in the right hands can be a lovely, lovely thing. Well played, Inver.

Home cooked dish of the year:

Like all good (obsessive) foodies, we keep records of what we cook and eat and scrolling back through 2021 I can see lots of comfort food type dishes on there which is probably indicative of our state of minds whether we realised it or not. We don't very often cook the same dish regularly, which suggests that Diana Henry's teriyaki salmon was a real favourite (made twice within the space of a month). I also recall absolutely swooning over the smoked haddock hash that we made at the start of the year and then never got around to repeating - definitely one to have again soon. However, I think the most representative dish of the year must be the humble meringue. Since lockdown #1 D has been making all the household mayonnaise from scratch and, as a result, I have been regularly making meringues to use up the surplus egg whites. We eat them with Chantilly cream and whatever fruit we happen to have to hand, and they have been one of the great simple pleasures of the year. Not one that I appear to have taken a photo of though - so please accept a picture of the cat instead, enjoying her dish of this and every year, chopped fresh prawns. 

Recent eats: a Diana Henry week

July’s themed week was an homage to the wonderful food writer, Diana Henry.

I vaguely recall that she appeared on some daily programme on the food channel years ago - Market Kitchen? Good Food Bites? - and she has the kind of cosy screen presence, and, indeed, writing voice which makes you inherently trust everything she says. I hope that she wouldn’t be insulted to be described as more of a home cook but, like Nigella, a home cook with an encyclopaedic knowledge of food and cooking techniques, who draws on multiple traditions and cultures like a foodie magpie to create interesting dishes that you really want to eat.

We own a number of her books and such is my admiration for her that I even have my mother saving Stellas (the Sunday Telegraph magazine) for me so that I can tear out her weekly recipe columns. There is currently a teetering pile of these on our dining room table, alongside the teetering pile of food magazines and shelves crammed with books - more dishes than could ever be cooked in a lifetime.

For our meal plan, we drew mainly on two books - “A Change of Appetite” and “Simple”. The former appealed because, divided as it is into seasons, it was easy to pick dishes that were appropriate for the current weather and available produce. The latter - well, the clue is in the title. What with the recent heat and the ennui that it occasioned, simple cooking is definitely the way forward.

As usual, we had two fast days in the mix, so five meals by the divine Ms Henry.

Monday - Linguine all’Amalfitana. Monday is nearly ALWAYS simple pasta supper night here and this was a great one to add to the repertoire. Garlic and anchovy are cooked slowly in olive oil to create a savoury backbone but the twist comes in the form of chopped walnuts which add not only texture but a welcome bitter note. Lovely.

Wednesday - Teryaki salmon with quick pickled vegetables. Served with sushi rice this was the perfect summer supper. I love this style of food and teryaki is so quick and simple to do. The addition of the pickled veg brought a perfect balance of sour and sweet and a pleasing crunch to the dish.

Friday - Seared tuna with preserved lemon, olives and avocado. What a flavour bomb this was! It sounds a bit unusual on paper, almost discordant, but here is where the trust comes in and I am so glad we did. Everything harmonised (to continue with my music metaphor) absolutely beautifully. Not to mention it couldn’t be quicker or easier to do but tastes far more special than the lack of effort would suggest. Perfect Friday night fare.

Saturday - Poulet au Comté. Some people might think that chicken baked in a rich cheese sauce, traditionally served after Alpine sports, is not really the thing for a blisteringly hot July evening. To them I say - you’re probably right. But this was one of those recipes torn from a magazine that I’d positively drooled over, so I pressed ahead. You’re either the type of person who is going to adore chicken baked in a rich cheese sauce or you aren’t - I most definitely am and can’t wait to cook it again when the nights draw in. I served it with a lemony orzo here, which helped cut the richness a bit, but come the winter all bets are off and this is going to be accompanied by a Matterhorn of mash.

Sunday: Yoghurt marinated spatchcock chicken with herbs and pomegranates. No one knows their way around a roast chicken like Diana Henry, and I think I have probably raved about her book “A Bird in Hand” on here before. This was a great summer roast with lots of zing and vim and an extremely tender, delicately spiced bird.

Elsewhere in the week, we enjoyed a delicious chocolate olive oil cake - this recipe is available online and would be a great dessert to make if you need to cater for gluten and dairy intolerances. Rich, decadent and fruity, we garnished with creme fraiche, berries, and a flurry of sea salt flakes.

So another successful theme week, and a few dishes already added to “regular” (if there is such a thing in this house) rotation. Some of Diana Henry’s recipes are freely available on t’internet (while the ones on the Telegraph site are mainly behind a paywall) so if you do come across any then do give them a whirl. She’s an absolute treasure whose food writing is up there with some of the best this country has to offer at the moment.

Recent eats: a Fuchsia Dunlop week

The recipes that we possess on paper alone, across myriad books and magazine back copies, would constitute more dishes than one could ever cook in a lifetime. And yet still we continue to acquire them until the array of possible answers to the question “What shall we have for dinner?” is so huge that one is rendered mute in the face of it. And thus it is that quite frequently, when meal planning, I will stare at a blank screen for ages before tentatively typing in “Beans on toast?”

One solution - streamlining. Have a cull. Stop acquiring new stuff. But then, you see, you might miss out. You might miss out on a recipe or a food writer who opens your eyes to something new that almost instantaneously absorbs into your repertoire as if it had always been there.  Something new that surprises or delights or challenges or all three at once (yes, food can do this). Discovering the work of Fuchsia Dunlop did this for us, bringing the food and flavours of China (particularly Sichuan) into our home after years of vaguely disappointing takeaway and restaurant experiences.

So then second solution - struggling to meal plan? Theme weeks! Concentrates the mind wonderfully, plus allows you to mix old favourites with new discoveries. And thus our household decided to embark upon a Fuchsia Dunlop Theme Week.

Incidentally, I would direct you to her website but it doesn’t look like it’s been updated for a while. Instead, I’d suggest a quick Google if you’re interested - not just to learn about her background (she was the first ever Westerner to do chef training at the Sichuan Higher Institute of Cuisine) but, also, a good few of her recipes are published online on sites such as The Guardian. Her Instagram feed is gorgeous too - and the fact that she once responded to a fan-girl comment of mine in the nicest and most gracious way only makes me slightly biased.

So, to the food (five dishes since we fast twice a week which means dust for dinner).

Monday - Dan Dan noodles. I was DETERMINED to have at least one noodle dish on there and this seems to be a classic. D is less enamoured of noodles than I, but he really enjoyed it. It’s sort of reminiscent of a Spag Bol that has wandered off on holiday. Incidentally, I sometimes find noodles to be slightly claggy - if you’re bothered by this, try cooking them in advance, plunging them straight from the pan into cold water and then lying them out flat in a single layer to cook and dry mitigates this a lot. You will need to reheat before serving - either in the pan of whatever else you’re cooking or a quick blast in the microwave,  (bowl, splash of water, cover with cling film, pierce, blast).

Wednesday - Mapo Tofu, smacked cucumber with garlicky sauce. One of the most intensely flavoured dishes of the week without a doubt. I just can’t get on with tofu when it is designed to be slippery in texture, which it is here. Firm, crisp - fine. Wobbly, verging on the gelatinous - not so fine. It speaks volumes for the delicious sauce that I still scoffed the lot but I think I need to tweak this slightly to make it more appealing to me (which would mean that it was no longer Mapo Tofu but that’s ok).

Smacked cucumber by the way - fabulous. And satisfying if you’ve had a particularly bad day at work (you do, literally, smack the thing). I sprinkled a few salted cashews over the top to add additional texture to the dish (see notes re wobbliness of tofu above).

Friday - oil exploded prawns, noodles with dried shrimp and spring onion oil. SO much flavour from so few ingredients - the noodles are the most ridiculously easy thing ever involving just oil, dried shrimp, spring onions and a splash of soy. The prawns were sweet and sticky and messy and deeply satisfying. This was like the best seafood pasta you’ve never had.

Saturday - fish fragrant chicken with egg fried rice. Back in slightly more familiar territory on Saturday night. All I will say about this is - if once you were to cook it, you would never order a Chinese takeaway EVER again.

Sunday - Nanjing saltwater duck, dry fried green beans. We pushed ourselves out of our comfort zone a little here. The picture of the duck, which is braised in a fragrant broth, was a little...pallid. Beige, even. A far cry from the crispy, gleaming specimens one associates with Chinese cookery. We were not sure how this would work texturally without any rendering of the fat. But no cause for alarm - this was tender without being in any way chewy or or wobbly, and the flavour infused into the meat was sublime. Actually, I think the wonderful taste of the duck itself was allowed to shine through a little more without the usual salty distraction of the fatty, delicious skin. The beans - well, D usually can’t stand green beans but these were excellent - the pork and preserved veg adding a deep savouriness to the appealingly crunchsome veg. As D observed, "Who knew that deep frying them and adding meat would make them nice?" NB: This is probably an edict that can be applied to many a thing.

In conclusion - a roaring success and plenty of dishes to make the regular rotation - along with at least one to play with. If you have never liked Chinese food - or even if you THINK you like the Chinese food that you’ve had so far, I would urge you wholeheartedly to give Fuchsia’s books a try. The majority of the ingredients are easily available now - online if you don’t have a handy Chinese supermarket nearby. Everything we have cooked so far has been quick and easy to do. There is nothing not to like!

As for me, back to non themed meal planning this week. Beans on toast, anyone?

Recent eats: a vegetarian week

We've always been keen meal planners but lockdown has made us...well, bordering on the obsessive. We both pore over the spreadsheet which meticulously lists out what we will be eating for weeks in advance. We have a colour coding system. We have multiple tabs - for the current meal plan, the future meal plan, the archive meal plan, the freezer inventory and the shopping list - it's becoming ridiculous. But perhaps all of us have sought order and structure in strange places through this strangest of years. And budget wise, it really is astounding what a difference it makes.

Anyway, this is not a post in praise of meal planning per se, but it is a record of the week just gone which we decreed "Veggie week". Because sometimes, to shake things up a bit, a themed week is just the ticket.

We've done veggie weeks before, and always end up eating incredibly well although I do find that I have to try and avoid my natural compulsion to cover everything in cheese! 

Saturday - shallot Tarte Tatin. I came across this while browsing through an old blog that I used to follow, but the recipe is originally Gordon Ramsay's. I tweaked it ever so slightly by adding the tomatoes and goats' cheese to the top (or bottom) of the shallot layer before covering with pastry. I didn't quite understand the point of just dumping them on top at the end. 

It was something of a labour of love this, but I made things more difficult for myself by making my own rough puff pastry - using shop bought would have been more straightforward. Regardless, it was a delicious and beautiful thing and well worth the effort. Equally good warm from the oven and cold for lunch the next day. 

Sunday - shepherdess pie. I was so proud of this one! The lentil mix which formed the base was actually entirely vegan but still had a fantastic richness to it. To make: blitz or very finely chop one onion, two sticks of celery and four chestnut mushrooms. Put into the slow cooker alongside a small handful of soaked porcini mushrooms (along with the soaking liquid), four roughly chopped sundried tomatoes in oil, an undrained can of kidney beans, 80g of Puy lentils, a bay leaf and a decent sprig of rosemary. Then, whisk together 1.5 tablespoons of brown miso, a tablespoon of tomato ketchup and 240ml of boiling water, and pour over the pulse mix. Season, and cook on low for six and a half hours. 

At this point, if you choose to smother it with buttery, cheesy mashed potato and bake in the oven...obviously it was cease to be vegan. But it will be very tasty nonetheless (and am sure a non dairy mash would be almost as good).

Monday - refried bean and avocado quesadillas. I bloody love refried beans! I am also slightly obsessed with the TikTok quadrant wrap technique being someone who loves wraps but is incapable of eating one without tipping half the contents down her front. I do not have TikTok (I am not really sure what it is) but an explanation of the wrap "hack" can be found here, and it is very clever. And I can tell you that if your quadrants contain beans, cheese and avocado you will produce a delicious and very filling meal. 

Wednesday - ooh, now this was nice although written down it will sound a bit random and, indeed, the main point of it was to use up some bits and pieces that had been hanging around for a while. So, we had Gochujang noodles (using the dressing found in this recipe), kale stir fried with tahini, chilli and soy and boiled eggs. I ate the leftovers cold for lunch and found them to be even more delicious for a couple of days ruminating in the fridge. 

Friday - to finish the week, mushroom and halloumi "burgers". I have to put burgers in quotation marks because I object to the use of the word in this context and yet can't think of an alternative. Anyway, Portobella mushrooms were topped with a garlicky mushroom farce (just blitzed chestnut mushrooms and trimmings cooked down with garlic and a little thyme before being finished with a tablespoon of cream cheese to create a pate like texture) and baked before being served in buns with slices of fried halloumi and a caper mayonnaise garnish. Indulgent fare for Friday night, especially with a heap of homemade slaw on the side.

So, veggie week - done, with some very pleasing new recipes added to the repertoire. Even a committed carnivore like D had no cause for complaint - although he did proceed to cook pork chops for tea on Saturday...

Recipe corner: Mussel and bacon pizza (jingle all the way!)

The thing about authentic Italian pizza is that tends to be pretty simple. Tomato, cheese and then a few, carefully chosen, toppings. Not enough of anything to create sloppiness: a crisp base and the structural integrity of the whole is important. No weird combos. No doughiness, no ten tonnes of cheese (that is the province of Domino's and their ilk). I get all that and I appreciate it. But SOMETIMES it is fun to play a little bit and end up with something which is somewhere between what an Italian Nonna would appreciate and what drunk people order at eleven pm with a side of chicken wings.

When I wrote this up in my notebook I called it "Pizza Bianca del mare e dell'odore" which means "A white pizza of the sea and the sty". And I like that title very much. It sounds so much more elegant than mussel and bacon pizza. But I've stuck with the English for the blog title because it's probably a bit more useful. 

This is a pizza that combines seafood and cheese, that is a little bit on the sloppy side and, to be honest, is a bit of a bloody faff if you're making it because it involves numerous processes. None of them difficult but it's not easy home cooking. Jamie couldn't squish it into a 30 minute meal. So I probably haven't sold it to 99.99% of the people who will come across this blog post. But for the rest of you, who are intrigued, you are in for a tremendous treat. I think this is the most delicious pizza that I've ever made.

When I wrote pizza 101 back in July 2016 (!) I was using Paul Hollywood's dough recipe, but I've fallen out of love with that recently after a couple of issues with the dough being just too sticky to practically use. So I turned to Dan Lepard and, sure enough, his recipe and method worked perfectly. I won't repeat it here but if you DO pop over to have a look I would note:

I used a tablespoon of malt extract and all water, rather than open some of D's precious beer

I went up to 200ml of water - 50ml fresh boiled and 150ml cold from the tap to get it luke(ish) warm.

I initially made the dough the night before using and left it in the fridge overnight before moving on to the stretching and folding stage. This has the benefit of spreading the effort a bit as well.

I was making personal sized pizzas, so divided this recipe into 6 (actually, I made a half batch and divided it into 3). This was a generous portion. If you're not greedy, you could reduce the portion size further.

And for the topping...

Ingredients

1/2 kilo mussels

Splash of white wine or Vermouth

150ml milk

3-4 garlic cloves, peeled and bruised

Large sprig of thyme

15g Parmesan

10g butter

10g flour

75g pancetta (or diced bacon)

Small onion, thinly sliced

100g firm mozzarella, grated

75g smoked cheese, grated

Makes 2 generous individual pizzas

OK, so firstly we want to cook the mussels with no more flavourings added than a splash of white wine. Clean and de-beard the crustacea then heat the wine in a large, lidded pan until it simmers madly, and tip them in. Cover the pan and cook for around 5 mins, shaking gently every so often. They'll be ready when the majority of the shells are yawning open. Incidentally: we tend to buy up bags of mussels whenever we make it the fishmonger, cook and freeze them for future use. But if you do this be sure to freeze them alongside their delicious liquor.

Make the white sauce by first infusing the milk with the garlic and the thyme. Place all together in a small pan, scald the milk (which means heating it until the edges are beginning to bubble) then turn off the heat, cover and leave alone for at least a couple of hours.

Then we make a roux - melt the butter, add the flour and stir briskly to make a paste. Pour in the infused milk, bit by bit, stirring vigorously every time to eliminate lumps. When you've added all the milk, add the mussel liquor - again, bit by bit. Gently bubble the sauce for a few minutes to ensure that all the flour is cooked out (the easiest way to check this is by tasting it - if you can taste even a hint of flour, cook for a bit longer) then season with the grated Parmesan, a tiny pinch of salt and a little pepper. This is the base of your pizza.

Fry off the pancetta until crispy and then remove from the pan with a slotted spoon. Then, turn the heat right down and soften the onion in the bacon fat.

Finally, assemble your pizza. Take your rolled out bases and spread across the white sauce. Top with the cooked mussels, bacon and onion and finish off with the mozzarella and smoked cheese. If you have any spare, sprinkle a few fresh thyme leaves over to finish. Bake in a very hot oven for about 12 minutes until everything is bubbling and beginning to brown. 

If you have any sense at all, you'll allow it to cool slightly (and, in doing so, begin to solidify) before eating.

Recipe corner: cheese and pepper chickpeas

Lots and lots of food writers are doing sterling work at the moment across all of social media, making loads of recipes and cook-alongs and tricks of the trade available to us mere mortals.  I have always been an avid Ottolenghi fan anyway (his book "Plenty" remains one of our most utilised) but he has had some fabulous stuff over on Instagram which he saves to his Stories. When he mentioned doing a sort of take on cacio e pepe, but with chickpeas, then I had to give it a go.

You will note that lockdown has not improved my food photography skills any.  Sigh.  Although I suspect it would be hard in any case to make a pile of gloopy beige chickpeas look attractive (not really selling it there, am I?)  Anyway, forget about the crappy picture, these chickpeas were DELICIOUS.  Look, so good it made me shout.  D was less enamoured and, of course, he is entitled to his opinion (he is WRONG.)  I suspect that the problem here was partly that I didn't quite get the sides right.  I served them with a tomato and chorizo couscous salad and flatbread which, while nice in their own right, weren't quite...there.  

Anyway.  My chickpeas needed less cooking and slightly more water than Ottolenghi's so I've included my timings and quantities on the below write up - a lot is going to depend on the peas themselves, the soaking, your oven...you just need to cook them until they are nice and soft and most (but not all) of the liquid has been absorbed so that you're left with a very slightly soupy texture that will thicken up into a silken, clinging sauce once the butter and cheese has been added.

Cacio e pepe should really just be about cheese and pepper so don't be afraid to be bold with the latter.  Since Ottolenghi himself supported the initial addition of garlic, I'm going to go one step further and chuck a couple of aromatics in at the cooking stage, but you could quite happily omit these.  Oh, he also originally suggested a couple of pickled chillies as a garnish.  I didn't bother as I had a bit of heat coming through from the couscous, but I think that they would be a lovely addition.

Ingredients

150g dried chickpeas, soaked overnight

Tbsp olive oil

4 cloves of garlic, crushed

Couple of Parmesan rinds

2 bay leaves

Sprig of thyme

750ml water

Pinch of bicarbonate of soda

50g butter, fridge cold

25g Parmesan, finely grated

Heaped tsp black peppercorns, roughly crushed

Serves 2

Preheat the oven to 180 (160 fan).

Take a pan large enough to hold all the soaked chickpeas comfortably and that will go in the oven - some sort of casserole dish is ideal.  Over a low heat, warm the oil and then fry off the garlic for just a minute or so, until the raw edge has disappeared from the smell.

Drain the chickpeas and add to the pot, tossing well in the garlicky oil.  Then throw in the rinds, the bay and the thyme and cover with 750ml of water and a pinch of bicarbonate of soda.  Bring the lot to the boil and then cover and transfer to the oven.

My chickpeas were cooked perfectly after just an hour in the oven - the original recipe called for an hour and forty five minutes.  I would suggest checking after an hour.  Cook until the chickpeas are tender and the consistency is still slightly soupy.  

Remove from the oven and discard the Parmesan rinds and the herbs.

Add the butter and the Parmesan in 4 lots, stirring well each time to ensure that they have melted completely.  The residual heat in the dish should do this without the need to apply any further heat from the hob.  Then finish by stirring through the black pepper and a pinch of salt (if needed).

Serve.  With...something.

A journal of the plague year

Greetings from what feels like day 10,367 of lockdown.  Here in the UK, we are supposed to be in phase 2 or level 3 or something but since I (in common with much of the population) didn't actually understand an awful lot of the government guidance issued earlier this week (I mean, I understood some of the individual words themselves just not what they were supposed to convey when squished together in a sentence) I am just staying exactly where I am. 

The world is very small right now.  There is the house, the little garden, the occasional foray to the Sainsburys Local on the corner and, on one memorable occasion, a jaunt ten minutes down the road to the pharmacist.  That is it.  Certain things, occasionally, will come to mind and I will realise that I miss them and long for them so strongly that I experience a momentary flash almost akin to physical pain.  But then it passes, and I sink back into my little life, not contented exactly, but certainly not unhappy. 

Work is busy and that helps a lot.  D and I are both able to work full time from home so we have two stations set up - one in a little study at the front of a house (with a proper desk and a view of the street), one at the end of the dining room table (colder, feels less "professional", but closer to the kettle).  We alternate between them.  We have our little routine; whoever is based downstairs makes the first cup of tea of the day, we always stop for Popmaster (and the second cup of tea) at half ten, lunch is twelve on the dot.  As I said, a little life.

We've been eating well though, I'll say that for us.  I'm going to try and publish some recipes on here in the next few weeks to make sure some dishes get saved for posterity.  Quite a lot of baking (our flour stocks remain healthy for now), some random combinations (food waste, always something of an anathema has now become an absolute no no.  D baked up potato peelings the other week - NB: good, but probably needed slightly less time in our beast of an oven) and lots of comfort food type dishes.  This weekend a glorious treat; The Black Swan at Oldstead (of Michelin star and Tommy Banks fame) are doing food box deliveries and this week have extended to Leeds.  Two three course meals for two people (so four meals in all) for seventy of your English pounds.  I will share pictures.  And if you happen to live in the vicinity (they're delivering to Oldstead, York, Harrogate and North Leeds) then check out the website (not an ad.  Not sponsored, although if they'd like to, I am shameless, shameless.  I will extol their virtues to all 5 of my readers all day in return for some nice food.)

I hope that all of you out there are staying safe and well; and to all on the frontline - not just the doctors and nurses but the people who man the checkouts in the supermarkets, the delivery drivers, the posties, everyone, thank you very much.  I am acutely conscious that the only reason I am able to whiffle on from the safety of my own home is because you are out there facilitating that.

The WW Foodie’s slightly over complicated guide to meal planning

In these straitened times, and probably beyond, people are going to have to start shopping in a different way and those of us who have been meal planning for years may feel, amongst all the worry, anxiety and sadness, a very vague hint of smugness that we were obviously right all along. Stay at home, plan your meals, save lives.

I’m not serious really...I don’t think that I have the mental energy to be smug at the moment since most of it is taken up with coming up with different things I can do with the five kilos of dried beans that D purchased yesterday (our forthcoming Waitrose shop has been stripped of tins so he ordered from an online wholesaler) and trying to gauge what 2 metres actually looks like (“It’s the distance between you and that bin!” “Well, that’s fine for now but what happens when I am not standing in this precise spot? How do I judge then ?”)

But yes, meal planning. People have said to me, both online and in real life, that they couldn’t possibly meal plan because they don’t know what they will fancy at any given time. That they need spontaneity. Which I get, but spontaneity is not the priority in the midst of a global pandemic. So let’s proceed with some very basic tips.

One - plan meals you like. Sounds simple, no? And then, if you don’t fancy the salmon you’ve got planned for Monday then switch it for the chicken you’re having on Tuesday. If you want to eat everything on the plan then you’re unlikely to ever be in a position where you don’t fancy any of it. If you are someone who really can’t deal with the idea of planning what you’re going to eat in a week’s time then you could do it three or four days at a time. We tend to go for a week...well, I’m not quite sure why, except that we always have done. Also “Monday” is the only day of the week that alliterates with “Meal”.

Two - anyone who is already reading this blog (hi Mum and D) already has a vested interest in food. Cooking is fun, eating is fun, so try and look upon meal planning as an extension of that. I keep a note on my phone so that if, while day dreaming on the bus to work, I suddenly think “Ooh, I haven’t had that in a while!” I can jot it down and it can factor in to a later plan. There is nothing remotely chore-ish about that. D and I each try to pick out three or four dishes apiece during the week so that when we come together to plan we both have some items to contribute.

Three - prioritise what you have in the house but not to the exclusion of all else. We keep an inventory of what we have in the freezer and I’m always aware of what I have in the fridge that needs using up. And it’s important to keep an eye on that - we’re trying to minimise food waste here. But if you plan meals for the sake of using up that yellowing head of broccoli then you’re in danger of not adhering to point 1. And if you’re not adhering to point 1 then, guaranteed, you are going to end up resorting to takeaway or ready meals. I’ve started trying to use odds and sods up for packed lunches as far as possible. Yes, it means that our lunchboxes can end up being slightly...random. But food tends more towards the fuel when it is scarfed down at the desk. Having said that...

Four - leftovers and meals thrown together from random things lurking in the fridge CAN be surprisingly delicious. So there’s nothing wrong with planning an invention test on Thursday to clear the decks for the weekend, especially if you’re a reasonably competent cook. Maintain a decent larder (if you possibly can - I know it’s hard at the moment) and have a few basic techniques up your sleeve - I find a white sauce, a basic risotto, a frittata and a basic flatbread recipe are all useful ways to bring stuff together.

Five - don’t forget about side dishes. Most of us Brits are a big fan of meat and two veg but when meal planning I find that I tend to think in terms of recipes rather than component parts (if that makes sense?) But good side dishes are lovely so why not base a meal around that? You could put “gratin dauphinoise” on the meal plan and then serve it with whatever protein you have in the freezer or you happen to find yellow stickered in your local supermarket.

All the obvious stated? Everyone feeling sufficiently patronised? Then my work here is done! In all seriousness, I hope someone found something vaguely useful. Just the act of writing this post has distracted me for a few minutes so it’s achieved something.

As ever, stay safe and well dear readers.

Notes from my Christmas kitchen (2019 edition)

I didn’t take a single photo of the food that we ate over Christmas - which, for those of you who know my (startling lack of) talent for food photography may come as a shock. The trouble is (and I’ve complained about this before) while you are trying to line up the perfect shot - or even just trying to line up something that you can make look half decent if you Instagram the bejesus out of it - the food is a) smelling yummy and b) getting cold.

I think, though, this was the year that we really nailed Christmas dinner - our version. We still serve confit duck legs - the method very closely based on Valentine Warner’s recipe detailed here. We have now introduced an additional meat element: the duck and black pudding bonbon. To make these, D roasted two duck legs until tender then removed the skin and shredded the meat into a bowl, alongside two thick slices of black pudding. The mixture is soft and pliable enough to easily fashion into balls before rolling in flour, egg and breadcrumbs and deep frying - all of which, with the exception of the frying, can be done well in advance.

There is mash, because there has to be a potato element. And there is braised red cabbage which has been a staple for many years being both a little bit sour, a little bit sweet and a little bit buttery all at once and providing some moisture to the plate in the absence of any gravy.

This year, as well, inspired by a Thomas Keller recipe, we softened an onion in a little butter and oil then added a pile of shredded sprouts with a couple of sprigs of thyme. Covered the whole in chicken stock and reduced right down before adding a splash of cream and a good spoon of Dijon mustard. The bitterness of the sprouts were tempered, but not entirely diminished, by the flavour of the rich sauce and it really worked well to pull everything together.

Usually, we end up eating pudding on Boxing Day because we’ve maxed out. But keeping things light on the snacks and starters type meant that this year, after a couple of hours digestion time, we just about made room for the individual Christmas pudding cheesecakes that D had carefully prepared earlier in the week. I love Christmas pudding and I love cheesecake so this was a match made in heaven! I’ll post the recipe here for future reference - it would be great if you were entertaining a lot of people since you could make a full sized one, get it done well in advance and then just slice and serve on the day.