Sunday 25 January 2015

If at first you don't succeed, make the creme brûlée again. And do remember to put the potatoes in the oven that's actually ON...

It's dinner party season.

For those who love to cook, there's nothing better than spending a dull, cold winter Saturday in a warm kitchen, trying to create a bit of magic.  And then moving to a convivial dining room, filled with friends, to eat and drink the night away.

Our first dinner party of the year came with a couple of triumphs, two near disasters and a new blowtorch.  Since we're trying to pull in the expenses this quarter, there won't be many restaurant reviews.  So here's the rundown of dining chez Bencard instead.

Nibbles before dinner included two home-made dips.  First my roasted garlic hummus which was tasty, though I think I could have used two heads of garlic rather than one to pump up the flavour.  Yotam Ottolenghi's beetroot and zatar dip got raves from the guests, as it always does.  I think this is mostly because it's so unusual.  It's also beautiful, with its vivid fuscia colour, scattered with spring onions (scallions), brown toasted hazelnuts and white goat's cheese.  And it's remarkably easy given its exotic impact.  You can find the recipe here.

I also served some of the air-dried tuna, called mojama in Spanish, we picked up in Barcelona.  This is classically sliced thinly, re-hydrated in olive oil and scattered with toasted almonds.  Next time, I'll improve it with a sliver of fresh jalapeño for a contrasting kick.  It's usually served as tapas on thin slices of bread, but I went carb-free by using our canapé spoons.

Seafood risotto opened things up.  As a dinner party dish, it has the disadvantage of requiring the chef's
undivided attention for half an hour before serving.  But it's sure to impress and a great dish for clearing the freezer out when you have just a little of this, and a little of that on the fish front.  Start with 40g of rice per person for a first course portion.  My secret ingredient is tinned clams which, strangely, are tough to find in the UK.  I stock up when I go to Italian Continental Stores in Maidenhead.  Use the clam juice to add depth to a couple of fish stock cubes for your simmering liquid and put the clams into the rice at the half way point.  The rest of the seafood goes in much closer to the end, as it needs so little cooking.  You have to use common sense, of course, depending on what you're putting in.  In addition to the clams, I used diced-up pollock fillet and prawns.  My other key flavouring ingredient is a good pinch of saffron.  I topped each serving with a couple of pan-fried scallops.

Piers took charge for the main course, which would have been perfection had I not put the potatoes in the wrong (not on) oven.  Which created a 40-minute delay, during which the roast edged past its best to ever-so-slightly overdone.  We've had an abundance of fine leeks in our veg box this winter, which prompted the leek and apricot stuffed pork shoulder.  Recipe here.  We used Michele Roux's potatoes boulangere recipe, which is one of the many delights in his cookbook The French Kitchen.  Carrots and peas with that.  We meant to flame the carrots in Grand Marnier but we forgot in the bustle of the blown timings.

Dessert was beset by troubles.  I anchored my plans on blood oranges, which are in season at the moment and … at least for me … always bring an injection of sunny Sicily into the winter chill.  Though I'd ordered a kilo in my weekly Riverford delivery, the box came on Friday with no oranges.  They'd sold out.  Crisis!  Newlyn's Farm Shop saved the day by not only providing the pork shoulder, but having plenty of the orange beauties for sale.  As long as I was there, I thought I'd splash out on top-quality organic cream and eggs.  All of which was turning a fairly simple dish into a rather pricey one.  Which made it all the more distressing when the custard curdled, separated, bubbled, remained liquid and was generally a disaster.  Piers ran to Tesco … the closest option ... for another round of eggs and double cream.  Fortunately, I had enough blood oranges to start over.  The recipe that worked is here.  The only thing I'd recommend from the disastrous first recipe was the candied blood orange slices.  (Slice two oranges thinly,  candy in a gently-boiling solution of 2 1/4 cups sugar and 1 cup water, then dry on a rack overnight.  You'll end up with some excellent blood orange syrup as a byproduct.)

We used this excuse to finally get a decent blowtorch.  We've been saying this for about a year, since we tried a Tom Kerridge recipe where you're supposed to finish your chicken skin with one, and our dinky kitchen model wasn't up to the task.  When we watched Tom do the dish on TV, of course, he was wielding a canister that wouldn't have been out of place in a ship-welder's hands.  Ours isn't quite so substantial, but it's definitely from a builder's shop rather than a kitchen store.  And the difference it makes is vast:  crackly tops in seconds, cream still cold below.

Thinking the creme brûlée was going to be quick and simple, I'd decided dessert would be a trio of citrus, with my blood orange centrepiece complemented by a lemon madeleine and a square of key lime fudge.  Which made the day more stressful than it needed to be.  But did mean I'd have a fallback position if the creme brûlée failed again.

I used a Roux recipe once again for the madeleines, which you can find here.  I doubled the amount of lemon zest to kick up the citrus flavour, and because my madeleine pan is silicone I don't bother with buttering and flouring it at the start.  (Just make sure you allow the cakes to cook completely before you pop them out.)  

I feared I'd made a mistake as the fudge came off the stove; my taste found it to be almost sickeningly sweet.  But some sort of magic happens as it sets in the fridge.  The sweetness falls back as the sharpness of the lime comes through. I followed this recipe, with the addition of a layer of coconut on the bottom of the pan (thus the top of a piece when serving) to add to the whole tropical feel.

I used the zest of regular limes, as key limes are unknown in the UK, and juice I'd brought from the States.  (This is one of the things I pick up on every American trip.  You can find it by mail order, but it's ridiculously expensive … more than £20 for a 16-oz bottle.)  I'm sure it would be tasty, though a little sweeter, with regular lime juice.  Try using 2/3 lime to 1/3 lemon to get something closer to the key lime's flavour.

I sent all the leftover fudge home with guests to get the temptation out of the house.  Because it is magnificently decadent.  Smooth, creamy, addictive.  I sense this one might become a dinner party staple.

Today, it's back to Weight Watchers and 101 ways with 0 point vegetables.  And now, a very long walk with the dogs to try to counter the indulgence.

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