No. 1365: The winners
Jaspistos reports: Competitors were asked for a recipe for a very simple, dish in the style of a pretentious writer on cookery.
Although I forgot to set a word-limit and encouraged you to imitate a 'long-winded' writer, that was no excuse for two of you inflicting 800-word entries on me. But I shouldn't complain — it was a highly entertaining week. Tom Cochrane aimed straight at the Young Fogeys: 'Just occa- sionally a chap feels like a poached egg, especially after Solemn Benediction or before the Annual General Meeting of the Victorian Society. Take one ostrich egg the best ones come from the shop in the corner of the South African Embassy . . Joyce Johnson was wittily elaborate about cucumber sandwiches ('no shape other than triangular should be tolerated, and they should be arranged in gently overlap- ping style, on an oblong plate for prefer- ence'), and for grilling bread for poached eggs Ron Jowker suggested 'building a small sandalwood fire in the paddock'. Last sentences were particularly good 'Do try the saxifrage: you'll be surprised at the result' (Peter Taylor), 'Next week I'll explain how to fillet whitebait' (Adrian Banfield), and 'Put together the pieces as shown in the 16-stage diagram et voila - Marmalade Sandwiches!' (Simon Herbert- son.) As Beachcomber used to add cheer- fully after one of his bizarre recipes, 'Serve piping hot and serve you piping well right!' The winners printed below are awarded £10 each, and the bonus bottle of Vosne Roman& Les Beauxmonts 1980, pre- sented by the Chelsea Arts Club, belongs to Peter Sheldon.
Le Pain Roti
Le pain r6ti is quite unlike the dish we indiscri- minately call buttered toast, and as various in its many regional manifestations as there are departements of France. The robust normand version, laden with fresh salty butter in half- inch-thick slices, is utterly different from what I have enjoyed in many a Rclais Routier in the Languedoc: thin tranches charred to curling, just
smeared with the slightly rancid butter of goat or ewe that seems redolent of that austere region and its plangent patois. But the classic dish, claimed with some justice to have orginated in le Lyonnais (though this is disputed in le Nivernais, l'Auxerrois and of course Trouville), is prepared as follows:
Singe a slice of Orgueil de Maman with a succession of matches (one side only, naturally). The faint aroma of sulphur transforms this peasant dish into the gourmet speciality now to be found wherever la Cuisine Francaise is esteemed. If you have difficulty in holding the matches, do as the French do, use an entre- metteuse, a simple cast-iron device which you can find in some Soho shops. Cut and lay on a
thin slice of saltless butter — no spreading, please — and serve tepid. (Peter Sheldon) Dripping It cannot be too strongly emphasised that the truly great drippings are created at the roasting of the joint, which should be prepared with the needs of the dripping in mind.
Simply collect the dripping and chill. I still occasionally come across the barbarous practice of 'clarifying', which misses the entire point of dripping, its regional and cultural variety. How could one be insensitive to the insouciance of dripping de pore a fail, the playfulness of dripping d'agneau aux fines herbes, the amusing bluffness of dripping of beef in old ale?
To serve: take a loaf of the cumulonimbus variety — fluffy, white and damp — and cut into thick slices (any good multiple baker will do this for you). Chambrer the dripping and spread thickly.
The result has all the mettle of moorland and millstone. It should be eaten neither before nor after luncheon, but instead of it.
(Noel Petty) Stewed Apple This exquisite yet not too sweet sweet needs four ample, true-green, freshly plucked English Bramleys. Eschew all matt, bland foreign substi- tutes and go straight to God's factory.
Back in the kitchen, pare away the filmiest slivers of peel with a silver knife. Now quarter, core and slice the delicacies (before they oxidise to a brown taint) and slip them swiftly into the bowels of a deep enamel pan. Avoid aluminium vessels, as the acid releases harmful compounds to our lasting detriment.
Dribble in precisely two tablespoons of true spring water, gently lapping the apple. Clap the lid tight, apply a whiff of heat, and wait. He who hastes, wastes; your pan will boil eventually. Again restrain yourself for ten full minutes before peeping within. Wonderful! The raw chopped fragments are miraculously expanded in fluffy fullness. Pure puree!
(Mary Ann Moore) Poached Egg On Easter Sunday I pray — before you yourself do so in church — that you will not be subjected to the traditional hard-soiled breakfast egg. InsiM — On the grounds of your digestion — on a poached egg. But how poached? Will it he a symmetrical globule cooked in that abomination an 'egg-poacher'? The perfectly poached egg must be slipped slowly, slowly from a cup into the gently bubbling water to which has been added a teaspoon of white wine. In France this has been no problem — the egg of the region, and the wine of the region. Now in many counties of England we can match the freshly laid egg with wine from the local vineyard. Spoon the liquid over the egg until the yolk wears a delicate white bridal veil. Insert a spatula and slide the egg onto the awaiting toast cut from a home-made 100 per cent wholemeal loaf, liberally buttered. (Katharine Onslow) Lapin Rouge sur l'Herbe Empty a large bottle of Evian into a kettle (I find Rowcnta the best, but any 'jug' type will do). Bring gently to the boil. Take a red jelly (loganberry if available, otherwise raspberry) and a green jelly (ditto, kiwi fruit and lime respectively). Eat raw a single briquette from each. This is to ascertain that the various flavourings and additives marry comfortably' (and is excellent for the fingernails). Dissolve the jellies in the water. Now comes the tricky part. Pour the red liquor into a lapin — amazingly, I have found these traditional Pro- vençal moulds to be widely available in High Street hardware shops — while allowing the green to set in a bowl. Using a fourchette a gelee (from larger branches of Habitat), mash the latter and spread this 'grass' over a large plate. Turn your 'red rabbit' onto it, and serve with lashings of Cornish ice-cream.
(Peter Norman)
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