A Crust of Bread

“If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars and all the heavens.” Robert Browning (1812-1889)
Baking bread is the most satisfying and the most time consuming of all my kitchen chores. I have a love/hate relationship with it. Love the results, the creative slashing and shaping, the smell of it baking, playing with the living dough, hate and resent the time involved, sometimes spanning weeks, as in liquid levains or nights as in pâte fermentée or a biga. The trouble stems from liking our bread cultivated by naturally occurring yeasts and bacteria or at the very least over-night matured commercial yeasts. In other words we like Old World Breads with rustic and artisan charm. The housewife of medieval England brewed her beer and her made bread together most days and then worked in the fields, washed linen against stones, wove on the loom, and died an early death fulfilling the many other chores, so why can’t I find time to make bread? Well, this week I have, but I know it will be a two or three-week phase and then it will be back to the supermarket. Part of this is the downright mess, after a while I’m finding flour in the most remote areas of the kitchen. And then there are the cultures, each needing nurturing each day, Little Shop of Horrors style “Feed me, Fay, feed me” and of course, there’s the organisation, requiring knowing your plans days in advance, i.e. if you fancy a German farmhouse rye on Saturday you better start making the rye sourdough culture the preceding Sunday! Patience and organisation are not two of my virtues. But no bread ever tastes as good, smells as good, or keeps as well as your own, so you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. Above is Italian Filone, a herb bread made with rosemary and winter savory from the garden, homemade rosemary and savory salt made last summer and herb infused olive oil, a wheat levain and a pâte fermentée. (see photo) This could just be the best bread known to humanity. Below are some Alsace sticks with spelt, after cooking you soak the spelt berries in Alsace wine overnight which can’t help making this loaf another all time winner.

Home Made Liqueurs, Sgroppino and Bas-Armagnac

Oh joy, all the liqueurs we made in the summer and autumn are maturing around now. I always make sloe gin if there are sloes to be picked, usually around the end October but this year yielded a poor harvest and what few there were disappeared quickly. So I had to raid my sister’s freezer for some 2007 berries. However, freezing seems to help in this case and the finished drink is indistinguishable from previous vintages. By the way, if you are put off by the idea of using a needle to prick each and every berry before adding the sugar and gin, forget it, use the prickly side of a cheese grater to run over the berries on a baking tray, works a treat and saves hours of time. In fact, it’s the only use I ever found for that side of the grater! I thought I’d try plum gin as well, as usual one of our plum trees, an Early Rivers type, produced more plums than we could eat, jam, pickle, bottle, cook and give away. The drink produced is less strong as the plums are juicer, which dilutes the alcohol, but the advantage is you can place a plum in the bottom of the glass to eat.
Also, I like to make limoncello, as I use it as an ingredient in Sgroppino (dialect in Venice for a lemon sherbet digestif) along with prosecco, vodka, lemon ice cream. Like sorbet it cleans the palette, but this concoction sends you to the stratosphere. I make my limoncello by using the rind only (no pith) of 10 large, unwaxed, organic lemons, placing them in a bowl with 50cl of pure grain vodka and putting the whole, covered with cling film, in full sun for 7-10 days, not easy to forecast in the UK, to bleach out the aromatic lemon oils. Then add sugar to taste and bottle.
We inherited four blackcurrant bushes when we took over our plot at the allotment, so maybe we could try cassis this year or morello cherries in armagnac, which we made once in more prosperous times. Nick and I have been dreaming and plotting about revisiting La Bastide d’ Armagnac and calling into see the delightful and educational M. le Baron, Philippe de Bouglon at the Chateau du Prada, who makes dam fine Bas-Armagnac in the most glorious surroundings. He is most generous with his time and will take you though the many vintages, while tasting using a glass vial he keeps attached to a ribbon around his neck to dip in the huge oak barrels. You can see the baron’s pad at
http://leprada.com/bienvenue.htm and le Baron himself at http://www.vinoteca.ru/en/about/ChateauxDuPrada/a man, I think you’d agree, who looks as if he enjoys his own products.

Paul Dunmall at Cafe OTO

The last time I studied life drawing was at Chelsea School of Art in the 70's but I've discovered a local class and last week when along. Boy, was I rusty! As with all arts the more you practice the better the chance of performing well, so this week I have been taking pens and paper when ever I'm out and about. Yesterday evening, that meant Cafe OTO in Dalston, where Nick was playing with Paul Dunmall, Tony Marsh. The trio have recorded on our Loose Torque label and if you are interested you can put sound to image at All Said and Dun where there is also video of Paul playing with same lineup. Of course, I was heading for the deep end for as subject matters, musicians, in frantic, dynamic, flow are difficult, to say the least, to 'catch'. Some artists manage the trick of motion brilliantly, but I've still to master a still life. I chose Paul to sketch (well, to show you, anyway, even with horribly inaccurate legs). I will post a drawing regularly, if nothing else to enable me to see some improvement over time, well hopefully. To see how it should be done check out Julie's Pictures

A Discerning Client Version Two

After uming and arghing over the design and artwork for the new CD cover for Loose Torque see blog A Discerning Client and to stop the artistic bickering, a brilliant solution has been found by prevailing on my sister for one of her nature photographs. This image, which she took in a birch wood, fits the criteria perfectly as it's suitably nordic, wintery and abstract. Still some design issues for me to settle but at least we're on the road!

Hedgerow Tonic

There is a tradition in Italy, of picking hedgerow herbs and preparing them as a spring salad, a form of pick-me-up after the austerity of the winter diet. An ancient knowledge passed through the women of the family, this mix of plants is in part a feast for the taste buds, a source of vitamins lacking in the foods available in the preceding colder periods, but also, because they are rich in minerals, a medical tonic.
This must have happened in Britain up until the Middle Ages or even later, when this island like Italy in the early 20th century was rurally impoverished and food for free was a larder to be plundered. Against the herbs and greens picked are dandelions, chicory, lovage, borage, sorrel, burdock, burnet, as well as wild varieties of the garden herbs, chervil, thyme, mint, watercress, oregano, rocket etc. More are known by local names both in English and Italian. For instance in Kent, Sorrel was known as Tom Thumb’s Thousand Fingers and of course, dandelion was Piss-A-Bed.
Some are hot, some bitter and others acidic, but appear to be used together in the same medicine-chest salad. I prefer to take my dose in a mixed soup, (Italians, unlike most of my family, seem to have a highly developed taste for raw bitter greens and salad leaves) which I will write about in spring with photographs and recipes.
Wild garlic was also picked and I still use it, cut and eaten when the leaf is young or cooked if larger. My sister has a little wood in her garden full of ‘ransoms’, which have never been subjected to herbicides or other chemicals, important when foraging. As I sit here tonight, with the temperature plunging below -6c, I find myself in need of some of that tonic and plan borage fritters, wild garlic tarts, lovage soup and sorrel or rocket pestos. Oh, roll on Spring.
Above is a snap of my borage plot in flower in June, just in time to add to the Pimms.

In the Wood

One of the advantages of living in the ‘wood is that we are still only 25 minutes from Central London. As the tube train strains up the hill out of the metropolis the passengers feel the fresh, cool rush of air into the compartment, a sudden atmospheric change from the sultry fumes and dust of the city streets, the streetlights fall away and some stars can be seen. I love returning from a stunning opera at the ENO or a late night viewing at the Tate Modern and walking home inhaling the scent of spring, sweet night time smells like our front hedge shrub honeysuckle (Lonicera nitida) or linden (Tilia cordata) blossom. The photograph was taken at our local tube station on such an evening.

A Discerning Client

I have a new commission, for a CD cover artwork and layout. The brief, as always with the Loose Torque Label, is to match the visual theme to the music, in this case, as always, free improvisation. I find most music will paint a composition in the mind, however the picture that resonates within me is often far from the intended impression, although as it happens, there is no intended impression here. (Which could make it harder still.)
There is a particular look of a free music album, either hand painted/drawn or textually reproduced digitally, sometimes incorporating postmodern text and implying complex underlying patterns in scribbled form (admittedly, like the music itself), the whole suggesting a sort of quintessence substance that tells you at a glance you are buying into a free form sound. Very cool, but maybe a tad clichéd.
The trouble is that all art is a current reflection of art that's gone before. Worse than that, a down right copy of what has gone before. For instance, a lot of advertising graphics at present hark back to the 70's, swirls, paisley, flower power etc. I did that stuff in the 70's why would I what to do it again? It's the same for me with this free music post-modernist look, been there, done that!
Of course, I can only revolt like this because the client happens to be my husband, otherwise I would be pulling my forelock and saying, aye aye, captain! Above a rejected piece. Ho hum, back to the drawing board and the morning tea in bed (supplied by the client) negotiations.

Italian Night

Tonight, after all the British food indulgence of this seasons fayre, a trip into the sunny realms of the Italian hills seems appropriate. Of course, indulgence aside, the proceedings could not start without an aperitif, tonight a version of an Aviator from Simon Difford's Cocktails No.7, my current favourite, not Italian although it does remind me of the Gin and It (Italian) that my father was so fond of in the ‘60’s. Simple and suitably strong it takes 1 part gin, 1 part dry vermouth, I part cinzano rosso, 1 part Red Dubonnet and an unwaxed lemon zest twist.
Fortified, we set forth onto the primo, my minestrone (no recipe, just anything at hand, but tonight our Cavolo Nero was added as there is so much in kitchen garden right now). For secondi, a rice bombe (although Nick has just pointed out, oh so kindly, mine should be called a rice brick). It's a sort of baked risotto, started with a soffritto made from tiny cubes of leek, carrot, beans, courgette, fennel, peas and herbs and as if that wasn’t enough to feed an army, a huge pizza was thrown together as well. Below is a photograph of the tomatoes and mozzarella draining dry on kitchen paper so that the dough base bakes crispy, my only tip on making good pizza!
It was a nice trip, everything but the suntan and the scenery.

Dolce di Pane

Just thought I’d pop in a quick post about an unusual Italian Bread Pudding Cake called Dolce di Pane I made this Yuletide. The original recipe came from The Modern Cook, or the True Method of Cooking Well 1849 by Pietro Santi Puppo and reproduced in The Heritage of Italian Cooking by Lorenza de Medici. Here is my slightly tweaked version (just can’t follow any recipe without adding or subtracting a twist, I guess it's my control-freakism!)

1lb crustless fresh Italian white bread
2 cups milk
drop of Cointreau (optional)
3oz vanilla sugar
4 egg yolks
grated rind (zest only) one lemon
pinch cinnamon
4 oz mixed glacé fruits (I used one each from a gift box of pear, fig, ginger, orange, apricot, cherry and angelica)
1 tablespoon of butter for double greasing and lining non-stick load tin(s)

Tear the bread to pieces and soak in milk for an hour, then squeeze out (very little, if any, actually comes out, depending on loaf type). At this point I add the Cointreau. Combine with egg yolks, sugar and lemon zest. Add cinnamon and diced glacé fruits and mix. Fill double lined and greased tins and bake 180 degrees C for an hour or maybe a tad less depending on tin sizes (I like two small). Or cook in Aga in top oven under a cold shelf.

This makes a nice change to the rich butter desserts at this time of year and is good with a cuppa mid afternoon or even breakfast. Above is a photograph of my attempt. Below is my collection of French Sarreguemines ware similar to the breakfast plates shown in the recipe illustration.

Vine Training Techniques

Grape vines can be extremely long lived and after about 20 years vines start to produce smaller crops, and average yields decrease, leading to more concentrated, intense wines. A good pruning regime is all important and one must decide on a particular form from the start. At the RHS Chelsea Flower Show in 2007 The Fetzer Sustainable Winery Show Garden designed by Kate Frey was awarded a Gold Medal. I took this photograph there on a blazing hot day, mimicking the Californian setting the garden was representing. In the plant list this vine was only described as Vitis vinifera, the common grapevine, which was a tad disappointing for this vine variety addict. What attracted me was the style of growing through pruning so that the truck of the vine is much taller than the traditional double or single Guyot system I'm using at home. I assume that the vines came from a producing vineyard and weren't just manicured for effect so I have been trying to research this freestanding style. The nearest prune systems I can find are either the Cruzeta a system used in the Vinho Verde area of Portugal where vines are trained to a wide cross arm about two meters off the ground, or the Gobelet (or head trained an American term) which has been used since Roman times, involves no wires or other system of support. The spurs are arranged on short arms in an approximate circle at the top of the trunk, making the vine resemble a goblet-drinking vessel. These vines are free standing and the system is best suited to low-vigour vineyards in drier climates, such as the one illustrating sustainability by Fetzer at Chelsea. If you are interested in vine training techniques I can suggest you look at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/User:Murgh/Vine_training_systems where some 50 odd are described, but not illustrated, unfortunately. Below is a photograph taken in Fetzers vineyard, apparently putting this technique into practice.

A Life on the Periphery of Jazz (and Other Miscellaneous Musics)

I was brought up on the mother’s milk of Jazz. Well strictly speaking it was my father that raised me jazzy. He was a tenor saxophonist, playing swing with the big bands of the time, the 1930/40’s. I listened to Ben Webster, Lester Young (who he once stood in for) and the other greats from before my first memories. My early life was lead to the tap and accompaniment of their riffs. I am the daugther, wife and mother of musicians, so can I play? Well, no is the answer, I can just about hold a tune although the key wavers far to regularly to allow me to sing anywhere other than in the solitude of the bathroom. It’s a great sadness to me, but, hey, I can appreciate and for me that’s enough. It’s just as well as my life is still lead to the harmonic and sometimes cacophonic background of music. Above is my Dad in full flow in a now forgotten band, third from the right, below a couple of sweeties, so natural, that as far as the photo shoot is concerned, could be sitting out on their stoop in New Orleans, the every wonderful Louis and Ella, bless their cotton socks.

A First Year Celebration of Chateau Northwood

As we ready ourselves for the seasonal celebrations, we are also rejoicing in our first year of full production in our mini vineyards. Two years ago, while touring in Loire, we saw an advertisement in a French wine magazine for Michel et Pascal Anneau, who grow and export vine plants of every variety. We got a tad carried away, a little too much dégustation, while visiting their viticulture in La Chapelle-Basse-Mer on the banks of the Loire estuary and left with 32 baby grafts in four varieties (oh, and lots of their own wines). The vines cost 60 pence each and the bottles of wine only a little more. It wasn’t until we arrived home, with our ministere de l’ agriculture export licence, I hasten to add, that we started pacing our available garden space and realised we’d over bought. We had two mini vineyards worth, so the race was on to find a small parcel of land with the right aspect and soil type to plant a second plot. We were very lucky to find such a spot within a mile from the house at an allotment, and although they had a long waiting list for plots it happened that the week one became available no one was answering their telephones, we were in!
We divided the spoils 8 Merlot and 8 Cabernet Franc at home, 8 Melon de Bourgogne and 8 Pinot Noir at the allotment and Nick started digging and digging, that was when he wasn’t gigging. The problem was that he was trying to reproduce the soil medium these guys like. Sharp grit and sand was added, manure of course and our own compost too, to a depth of three foot. Black landscaping cloth was laid, to retain moisture and keep down weeds, on top of that gravel and stones to retain the heat of the day and act as a storage heater during cooler evenings. Galvanised steel support wires were hung from beefy wooden steaks. It was a labour of love with no guaranteed return. So 2009 will tell if all the work has been worthwhile, but it is a long term project and it could be as long as 2012 until the vines really mature enough giving us good indication of quality in this northern latitude as long as we have good weather and we live that long! But on the evidence of two Merlot we planted six years ago against the conservatory, the forecast is rosy indeed, as we will soon be bottling our third year vintage.

Gardening By Firelight

Some of the most enjoyable (and lazy) gardening can be done sitting in an armchair in front of a blazing fire flicking through seed catalogues. Through the window the garden is looking frosty and dormant, but in the imagination the beds are already planted and fruiting with all the new and newly re-cultivated traditional varieties to be found within those tempting archives.
Tonight, as the temperature drops below freezing, I’m drawn to the hot weather herbs Basil Siam Queen, Mrs Burns and Red Robin from Jekka’s Herb Farm and just the downright hot, chilli peppers like the Bulgarian Carrot, Friars Hat or (a warning on the effects of eating these?) the Ring of Fire all available from Simpson’s Seeds.
Sometimes, of course, you need to wait a little longer than the next summer to see the results of all this scheming. Four years ago I planted the intriguingly named apple Pitmarton Pineapple, dating from the 1780’s and waited frustratingly until this autumn to taste the fruit. Well, it was worth all that planning and anticipation, because it is a remarkable fruit with distinctive pineapple fragrance, sweet, crisp flesh and a nutty flavour, but apparently quality can be variable, so I may have to make a habit of patience. That same winter, as I sat over the fruit catalogue from Brogdale ordering the Pitmarton Pineapple, I choose another apple, Ashmend’s Kernal, dating from the turn of the 17th century and was lucky enough to be sent two by mistake, which I planted paired either side of a central path. It has been described as ‘exploding with champagne-sherbet juice infused with a lingering scent of orange blossom’ (Hugh Fearnley-Whittingshall) well I’m not sure about that, but it is certainly good eating. Brogdale holds the British National Fruit Collection and is a must visit online, a great resource as they will graft any species they have in their collection onto any rootstock of your choice. In the photograph a basket of apples before being turned into apple and ginger jam.

Kids, cluck!

While tidying-up after breakfast yesterday it was remarked upon that I was a little out of touch with my ketchup bottles. This youngster suggested I should adopt plastic. I assured her that that would happen ‘over-my-dead-body’. Perhaps a little too enthusiastically, she fell into laughter and derision. “But why?” she asked hardly containing herself. So it fell on me, with ardent, if unusual, backup from Nick to explain the aesthetics of the glass sauce bottle. More laughter. I made my case not only on the appreciation of beauty and good taste but also on ecological grounds and from today after a reconnoitre at the supermarket on a financial footing too. Philistines these young’uns, if it isn’t squeezy food (saving on nanosecond of precious gaming time) or if it’s a black and white film (just too boring, no matter how classic) or, god forbid, in subtitles (requiring a smidgen of concentration) it’s out.
Proud to be of an older generation.

Choco shelf-elves

The shelf-elves have been busy in the village Waitrose. Sometime in the night they employed tiny elfish bulldozers to empty the shelves of usual groceries and replace them with Christmas chocolate. Every possible seasonal concoction is represented clothed in tempting iridescence splendour or wrapped in blissfully bowed boxes, just crying ‘Buy me!’
I love the idea of chocolate, but I am of the unhappy few, unable to enjoy a pick-me-up therapeutic binge, in that after the first two or three mouthfuls I find it clawing. The problem with that is that after my reduced nibbling the rest mysteriously disappears, pilfered by guilty hands lurking around the house. So my treat is glacé fruits, nobody purloins those, still too sweet, but less additive, so that after just one I can walk away. I promise to keep persevering with chocolate in the hope that one day, hooked, I will need my fix like other normal well-adjusted women. Off to practice on the hard stuff, Excellence 85% Cocoa.