Remember membrillo?

 No sooner, it seems, do I write about the long awaited arrival of Autumn, than Christmas lumbers into view.  Now I know this is as much to do with my recent slackness in updating this blog as it is to do with the late onset of Autumn, and nothing whatsoever to do with the early arrival of Christmas, which only appears to come round quicker every year, but still…  Anyway, if you’re here looking for Christmas ideas, then I’ll refer you to my post last Christmas posts from January , right now I still have autumn to get out of the way.  As, incidentally, does the weather – for all that as I write, Scotland is to all intents and purposes being blown away (a scenario that will doubtless please many, on both sides of Hadrian’s Wall) by the fiercest winds this century – so fierce they have their own Wikipedia entry.  Already!  Making ‘Bawbag’ official.  Kind of -  down here in the South, although it is admittedly a bit blowy right now, we are still in the throes of what is technically a drought.  It really has hardly rained at all this autumn.  And we’ve had three, maybe four days you could properly call chilly.  And we’re almost a third of the way through December!  At the risk of banging on, that’s not right is it?  SOMETHING MUST BE DONE.

Anyway, back to food.  Quinces.  Remember?  I’d made jelly, and was about to make membrillo.  It went like this.  Again, I simply followed that recipe and it came out fine, so I have little to add in terms of advice, other than do it: both the jelly and the membrillo (or quince cheese, if you must).  It really is so easy, and so very tasty.  The one comment I would make is that living as I do (and wouldn’t change for the world) with someone who can’t eat cheese, the opportunities for the consumption of membrillo might appear limited, but that just means it lasts longer.  I made my slab over three weeks ago now and took half of it, along with a big wedge of manchego to a dinner party hosted by our good friends Edgar and Lindsay.  A large part of the rest remains in our fridge, wrapped in greaseproof paper and sealed in a Tupperware container and will keep there perfectly happily for months, or even up to a year, I’m told, not that it stands even the slightest chance of remaining undevoured that long.  I would observe that as it matures, the flavour develops an increasingly strong hint of banana, but that’s the only difference I’ve noticed so far.  And I have no problem with banana.

Although membrillo is naturally and traditionally paired with manchego, what with being Spanish and all, it is worth bearing in mind that manchego is not the only cheese.  Not even in Spain.  I have found that it pairs particularly well with a nice crumbly Lancashire cheese (which pretty much by definition means it will go equally well with Caerphilly, Wensleydale and any other mildish, crumbly white cheese).  And the jelly too.  And of course you don’t need cheese at all, both the membrillo and the jelly will sit very happily on a plate with cold meats, pates or a good old pork pie. 

Ah.  Pork pie.  One of those combinations of words I cannot write, say, or even think without my mouth starting to water just a little bit.  I have long intended to get round to making one of my own, so much so that it’s an annual event, an essential part, indeed, of my own personal advent calender to wake up one day and realize that I’m not going to have time to make one for this Christmas either, again.  We are now rapidly approaching that day for this year.  Damn it.

At long last, dessert: Elderflower fritters

If you’re a regular follower of this blog, you’ll have probably noticed by now that I don’t really do desserts.  That may have something to do with the fact that for most of my time at the Rivington I was in charge of the cold starters, salads and desserts station, and as a result, now I don’t have to, I’m just not gonna…  Although, were that entirely so, you’d also expect me not to do cold starters or salads at home either, neither of which is the case.  No, I think it’s got rather more to do with neither Becca nor myself having much of a sweet tooth, and just never really feeling that bothered about having a dessert anyway.  And with Becca’s allergies, the pudding options are always more limited, and often less appealing – no butter pastry, no custard, no cream.  Perhaps my favourite dessert, and one of my particular specialities at the Rivington (the recipient of at least one ‘compliments to the chef’, from an actual stranger…), bread and butter pudding, clearly isn’t an option then…

However, we do not live entirely in a dessert desert (sorry!), and we did have a dessert (the same one) with both the dinners I’ve written up in the past week or so.  Not, I have to admit a dessert that I could take much of the credit for, as it was almost entirely the work of Becca, although it’s probably fair to say I received more than my share for the addition of the showy garnish that was my contribution.  I would, normally, be too embarrassed to add to that imbalance of due credit, by writing up (and therefore, inevitably, and whatever the purity of my intention, bigging up) my bit here – but it is a seasonal treat (and there should yet be a week or two at least of that season left), that’s available to pretty much everyone, pretty much for free, and so very easy to do that I think I’m justified.  And besides, the pictures are so pretty…

First off, though, credit where it’s due and all that: Becca’s rhubarb and strawberry sorbet.  She followed this recipe, and not only was it delicious, it really was as creamy as advertised, so much so that you genuinely might mistake it for ice cream.  Something about the silky texture of the rhubarb I guess.  She also made a sorrel sorbet, that it seems ungallant of me to mention at all, because she would be the first to admit it was less successful – but I have to say, it was the recipe’s fault not hers.  The recipe seemed to rely on soaking the sorrel leaves in cold water to extract their flavour, which might indeed have happened, but if so it was at a homeopathic level of dilution – and you know what I think of homeopathy…  Anyway, fortunately there was lemon juice and zest in there as well, so the end result ended up not as a sorrel sorbet, but as a very decent lemon granita. A scoop of each, topped with a golden, crispy elderflower fritter, made a dessert that was not only very pretty, but light and refreshing with a perfect combination of sweetness and sharp.  You could of course use a good vanilla ice cream (as well, or instead).

For the elderflower fritters make a batter that is as simple as flour and water, except use fizzy water, straight out of the fridge, or, even better, fizzy booze: I used prosecco.  Quantities don’t need to be exact but you do need to get the consistency to about that of cream (the slightly more complex – and eggy, and therefore no good in this house - recipe here suggests it should be ‘thin, like double cream’, which I find somewhat contradictory in so far as that, to my mind, double cream is quite thick for a batter, particularly for coating so delicate a thing as an elderflower. I would have thought thin, like single cream would be more like it).  I used 100g of sifted plain flour and whisked in about a wine glass worth’s of prosecco, i.e about 200ml.  If you don’t have, or don’t want to waste prosecco, cava or champagne (but really, it isn’t any kind of waste…), by all means mix fizzy water and a splash of (preferably sweet) wine, or perhaps vermouth; or grappa, or a similar spirit, as suggested on that recipe I’ve linked to above.  And then you leave it to stand, for at least fifteen minutes.

The key things with a batter, particularly a light batter, like a tempura are, apparently (and I was first told this by a Japanese tempura chef I once very briefly shared a flat with in Florence, so I’m prepared to believe it) fizziness, and coldness – whether you use fizzy water, or sparkling wine, it should come straight out of the fridge, you might even add ice cubes as you whisk it, and when you leave it to stand, that should be back in the fridge.  Other than that, there’s no great trick.  I mix up my batter just before we sit down to dinner and put it back in the fridge while we eat.

When you’re ready for dessert, just heat up your deep fat fryer, or a couple of cm of light oil in the bottom of a saucepan.  Dip the heads of the elderflowers into your cold batter till lightly coated, then lower them into the hot oil (the stalks provide a useful handle, so don’t cut them too short when you’re collecting your flowers) for just a few seconds till crisp and golden.  Drain them on kitchen paper.  Dusting with icing sugar is optional, but I think I prefer not too – you end up tasting the sugar more than the elderflowers, which is a shame – you can dip your finger in icing sugar and suck it off any time you want to, elderflowers only come out once a year.

Roast

Glazed pork ribs with pears and fennel

It’s been quite a past week, food-wise.  The lady says it’s all part of my ongoing plan to fatten her up for nefarious reasons of my own, but I swear to god, if it is, it’s a plan that’s conspicuously failing to work.  I guess we’re both just blessed with good genes, fat-wise, for which we must both thank our parents, but the fact that nothing in our house gets cooked in butter, or with added cream has to be a major contributory factor, and for that I must thank the lady and her dairy allergy.  We certainly make no particular effort to avoid fat, or, in particular, fatty cuts of meat.  In fact, quite the contrary.  Like the roasted pork ribs we had on Sunday, or the oxtail we had with gnocchi for the lady’s birthday eve dinner (see separate post below).  In fact I have an entirely unscientific theory involving "good" fats and "bad" fats, that may yet have a deal of truth in it - certainly, I'm sure, if there's no processed food whatsoever in your diet, then you've created space for a lot of outdoor reared pork belly.  And you cook everything in olive oil, not butter, then you can add a fair bit more...
I had intended to do a chinese style marinade for the pork ribs, but I'd picked up some pears from the farmer’s market, which were beautiful but remained resolutely hard, and they eventually changed my mind.  I marinaded the ribs for a few hours in salt, pepper, mustard powder, garlic, chilli and ginger, brown sugar, a sprinkling of fennel seeds and a splash of cider vinegar, then roasted them with the pears – starting off with just the ribs in the roasting dish with a half glass of cider poured over them, the oven good and hot (225 or so) for fifteen minutes, then turning it down (to around 180) and pushing the pears, peeled, halved and cored, and wedges of fennel, in between the ribs and the dish, for another forty, until the ribs were glazed and sticky, and the meat soft on the bones, but the pears still holding firm.

Rib of beef roasted with potatoes and shallots, and pickled red cabbage

The ribs were just the start of a week in which roast meat featured heavily, with grouse and mutton at St John for the lady’s birthday (see separate post below) on Thursday, then two big beef ribs, rubbed in salt, pepper, mustard powder, thyme and olive oil, and roasted rare for dinner with friends on Friday, and then pot roast partridge at The Magdalen Arms in Oxford for a family get together on Saturday.  All rounded off with a Guinea Fowl stuffed with chesnut and apple for a late lunch/early dinner for the two of us back home on Sunday.

Even roast fruit - pears, peaches & apricots in marsala to follow the roast beef

I did the guinea fowl on the rotisserie, which is perhaps the thing I love most about my oven.  It's a bit of added faff, and a definite hand burning hazard when it comes to removing the roasted bird, but the finished result is so crisp and golden on the outside, moist and juicy within that it's well worth the effort and the risk.  And I have to admit it's fun in a slightly gadget freaky kind of way.  The stuffing was half a leek and a stick of celery, diced and softened in olive oil with one peeled and diced apple, about 8 chesnuts that the lady's parents brought home from Italy, blanched (just slit the shells with a knife and boil in a pan of water for about five minutes, it makes peeling so much easier), shelled and roughly chopped, a handful of breadcrumbs and a bunch of sage leaves (6 or 8, roughly chopped).  That made enough for a good couple of heaped tablespoons to go into the birds cavity, and about the same agin to go into the freezer for next time.  And I can't wait for next time, because damn it was good.

guinea fowl and stuffing on the board...

...and on the plate