Country matters
THINGS are different in the country, you have to face up to it. I have been in darkest Cumberland, was taken to a party where I asked for ice (none being offered natch) and was told by the kind and apologetic hostess that she couldn't get at it as her son had put a whole pig on top of the ice bag in the freezer. Wow! Very unusual behaviour to an urban creature like myself. However, my host with the most, Patricius Senhouse of Cockermouth, has all mod cons and is a great cook, taking delight in adding several stone to my already Buddha-like belly. This is a serious coffee pudding to lighten the heart and harden the arteries (pace Paul Levy) from his repertoire. They often offer two puddings in Cumberland to: ensure sudden death, but seem to survive to spite the anti-everything-delicious bri- gade.
Pudding de Monchique 40 sponge fingers 6 oz of unsalted butter 1 egg 3 oz of castor sugar 4 oz of chopped walnuts 1 oz plain flour 1 oz butter for sauce V4 pint of milk I Very strong coffee Tia Maria 1/2 pint of thick cream
Beat the 6 oz of butter with the sugar and egg until light and creamy, mix in the chopped walnuts. Melt the one ounce of butter in a small saucepan, stir in the flour then the milk to make a thick sauce. Cool, then add to the butter mixture a spoonful at a time, beating until smooth. Now pour in the strong coffee and Tia Maria to suit your own taste (about four tablespoons of coffee and two of the liqueur, I should think). Line an eight-inch cake tin (the sort with a collapsible bottom is easiest) with greaseproof paper and butter the sides. Dip the sponge fingers into Tia Maria and line the bottom and the sides with them. Bottom horizontal, sides vertical. Fill the cavity with alternate layers of the creamed mixture and the dipped remaining sponge fingers, finishing with a layer of the fingers. Leave in the refrigerator for at least six hours. Turn out on to a fine plate. Whip the cream stiffly, add a little sugar, more Tia Maria and coffee. Mix well together and pile on top of the pudding. Scatter the cream with coffee sugar crystals and some freshly ground coffee. YUMMO! Now before our unfortunate summer has completely disappeared let us take advan- tage of the wealth of cucumbers about.
Cucumber mousse with dill 3 cucumbers
12 oz fromage frais or your favourite cream
cheese 1 tablespoon of minced onion Yz pint good chicken stock 1 envelope of gelatine (0.4 oz, 11g) 2 dessertspoons of white wine vinegar
1 dessertspoon of castor sugar (optional) 11/2 pint thick cream
Dill weed, nutmeg, salt and pepper
Grate two of the cucumbers including the peel, sprinkle with a little salt and drain for two hours, finally wringing out the. moisture with your hands. In a large bowl combine the fromage frais, the grated cucumbers, the minced onions and the slightly whipped cream, add the vinegar and sugar. Flavour with freshly grated nutmeg, salt, pepper and a tablespoon of dill weed. Have ready the gelatine dis- solved in hot chicken stock and cooled, stir thoroughly into all the ingredients. Pour the whole thing into a suitable mould, loaf tin or plastic box and leave to set in the refrigerator. Slice the remaining cucumber into very thin slices on a mandolin, salt and drain. Turn the mousse out, cover or decorate with sliced cucumber and a final scattering of dill. This looks very cool and elegant and will be plenty for ten to twelve people.
In my last piece about the tarragon receipts, my sweet editor had to cut out my warning about buying the correct sort. When you pinch the leaf it should have a strong scent and when bitten a curious taste of wintergreen so pinch and bite before buying. I was hoist with my own petard this week due to the fact that my excellent Spaniards, of Ivan's in Tach- brook Street market, have all gone on holiday together, as is their wont, leaving me to purchase tarragon at some ritzy greengrocer on Pimlico Green. I didn't open the packet; I should have, it was hopeless, tasteless and my own fault, so be warned. They have the right sort in Safe- ways and Sainsbury when you can find it. I made the Tama' dish nevertheless but it was a sad affair without that special taste, though good enough according to a polite uncle. Heigh ho, we live and learn.
Jennifer Paterson
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