Cook sister!

I'm back - with the Expat Meme

The fact that I have come back from my holiday with the best tan I've had all summer seem to me to be an indication of the dismal summer we've been having in England.  I mean... long, languid days; mosquito sprays; sundresses; and sultry, humid nights aren't the first things that spring to mind when you think of Austria, are they? But that's exactly what I've been enjoying over the past 10 days.  No doubt I will be posting about it all here soon, but for now I will merely say that we have slept in 7 cities since 17 August; had two Michelin-starry tasting menus; gorged on leberkäse and käsekrainers, seen The Kiss again, had my fill of schlagobers, eaten flammenkueche in Heidelberg and tasted Champagne in Champagne.  Just to mention a few highlights ;-)

But to ease myself back into this blogging lark, I thought I'd kick off gently with a meme that's been flating round the blogosphere for a while - the Expat meme.  I found it on Charlotte's wonderful blog and as a fellow South-African expat, I thought I'd join in.

5) Name five things you love in your new country

• the plentiful, safe and reliable public transport
• the proximity to wonderful, wonderful Europe (Paris in particular!) and its food, art, architecture, history and general wonderfulness
• seeing the beautiful St Paul's cathedral every day as I walk from the station to work
• sunset at about 10pm in the middle of summer
• the postal service.  OMG, does it work efficiently!!

4) Name four things you miss from your native country

• my two best friends, my brother and my two nephews
• walking on Robberg Beach early in the morning and finding a pansyshell
• the sound of crickets at night and the smell of rain on hot tarred roads
• the abundance friendly, smiling people everywhere who love to chat

3) Name three things that annoy you in your new country

• the general rudeness and anger of strangers in London.  Everybody just seems to be looking for an excuse to fly off the handle and punch somebody else.  It really is every man for himself.
• the fact that no courier, delivery or utility company will make a fixed appointment to see you - it's always "we have a slot from noon to 6pm available".  What - like I don't have to work for a living and sit home on the sofa eating chocolates all afternoon?!
• not being able to speak to a real person in this country at my bank.  And you can forget about having your branch manager's name, much less his telephone number!

2) Name two things that surprise you (or surprised you when you arrived) in your new country

• crazy health and safety rules.  No school ties in case one kid strangles another.  Life belts around a decorative pond that's like a foot deep.  People in the office freaking out when you pick up anything heavier than a paperclip.
• the obsession with post codes.  People don't tell you the name of the suburb that they live in - they'll say smugly "I live in N1" - like that means something to a fresh-off-the-boat Saffer!

1) Name one thing you would miss in your new country if you had to leave

• my-wonderful-friends-from-all-over-the-world-broad-beans-public-transport-daffodils-in-the-park-weekends-in-Europe-the-Henley-Regatta-oatcakes-Monsoon-cheap-broadband-London-theatre-earning-Pounds
  
  (does that count as one thing??)

I don't think I have to nominate anyone else for this, but I am going to pass it on to a few other fab blogging expats that I know:

Caroline, Mieliepap, Ronell, African Vanielje, Sally and StClaire

WTSIM#8 - Roasted butternut on the barbecue stuffed with spinach and feta

As I’ve written on this blog before, the South African braai is usually a meat-heavy affair.  Sure, there may be salads on the side, but essentially it’s all about protein.  Pity the poor vegetarian who arrives unannounced at the average braai. It’s going to be a long night picking over the salads, mate!  All of which is rather a pity because, much as I like braaied meat, you can do so much more on a fire.  As a kid I remember at every braai there were potatoes (and sometimes onions) wrapped in foil lying amongst the coals.  Once they were done, you got the whole steaming parcel dumped on your plate and had to extract the vegetable without suffering serious burns.  The outer layer of skin was invariably blackened, but if sliced open, the potatoes were soft and creamy and went down a smoky treat with butter.  And later, there were the joys of fish braais, braai sarmies and roosterbrood.

Cecil had already let me know that he would provide the meat (his fabulous lamb sosaties) and salads, so because no South African can ever arrive at anybody’s house for a meal without something to contribute I arrived with the vegetables.  Butternut squash is one of my favourite vegetables.  You can keep it in your kitchen for a week or two without it showing any ill effects (try THAT with baby spinach!!); you can roast it; you can steam and mash it; you can slice and bake it with cream; or you can stuff it.  It’s the last option that I had gone for on this occasion, so Cecil was presented with a neat tinfoil parcel containing a stuffed half-butternut that he had to find space for in the coals.

The only trick with this dish is to make sure that you don't put it on the coals so early that the whole thinng is incierated, and to make sue the tinfoil is reasonably well-sealed so that it does not dry out.  The time to put it in the coals is once the flames have died down and the coals are ashed over.  Then snuggle it warmly among the coals and leave alonne for 45 minutes or so.  Cecil managed to poke copious holes in the foil parcel with the business end of the skewers, so the flesh got a lovely woodsmoke flavour - fabulous.  It's not only a fantastic side dish, but also pretty close to the perfect vegetarian main course for non-meat-eating braai guests.

As I said, this particular example was served with sosaties, salad, good friends, a great view of London, a spectacular bottle of Springfield Sauvignon Blanc (amongst other things!) and a walk  on Primrose Hill.

Perfection on a Sunday afternoon.

 

ROASTED BUTTERNUT STUFFED WITH SPINACH AND FETA (serves 8)

Ingredients:
one large butternut squash
about a cup of cooked spinach (I used tinned)
250g feta cheese
6-8 shallots, finely chopped
2 cloves of garlic, crushed
salt and pepper
olive oil
dried rosemary

Method

Wash the butternut and slice it in half longitudinally, leaving two elongated halves.  Scoop out all the seeds from the lower half.

Sautee the shallots and garlic in a little EVOO until soft.  Make sure you have removed as much water as possible from the spinach and mix into the onions.  Heat through, then remove from heat.

Stir in the crumbled feta into the mix (reserve some for topping), season to taste with salt, pepper and rosemary.  Scoop the mixture into the hollow of the butternut.

Drizzle with olive oil, sprnkle with feta and rosemary and wram tightly in aluminium foil.

Place in the coals of a BBQ fire nce the coals are ashed over.  Leave for 40-45 minutes, testing for doneness with a skewer or sharp knife.  Serve when soft. (You may need to scoop the flesh carefully off the skin as it may have blackened a little.)

This is my submission to this month's edition of Waiter, There's Something in My...  I'm hosting this month and the theme is meatless barbecue.  Although the deadline is Mon 27th, I am still on my way home from Austria, so I won't get to the roundup till mid-week.  So if you want to play, there's still time!  Check my announcement post for submission instructions.

High tea at the Westcliff Hotel

As I have mentioned, I recently went home to sunny South Africa for my father's birthday.  Never one to miss out on dining opportunities, I had also arranged to stay in Johannesburg for a night on the way down so that I could see some friends and (with a bit of luck) try out some local eating and drinking venues.  As the more observant among you have already guessed from the title - we went to high tea at the Westcliff Hotel. This is one of those iconic Things To Do in Joburg that I somehow never got round to doing in all my trips up there while I lived in SA, kind of like people who live by the sea never going to the beach.  But when I made plans to spend a day to spend in Joburg, this is the first thing that leapt to mind. 

The Westcliff Hotel has become something of a Johannesburg institution.  It certainly occupies one of the prime viewsites in the northern suburbs, cascading down a hillside above the Johannesburg Zoo.  The site was originally occupied by the Westcliff Flats, a gabled building later renamed Murray Gordon Mansions which became an old age home.  However, neglect led to the building being vacated and demolished in 1975, after which the site stood vacant for years.  In 1993 the land was acquired by developers who planned 8 upmarket cluster houses.  BUt they misjudged the market  and the completed homes stood empty for two years before being acquired by the Orient Express Group, which converted the property into the Westcliff Hotel.  Why am I telling you all this?  Because otherwise, when you arrive, you will think that the place is bonkers - which is exactly what I did.  It looks nothing like a hotel, apart from the pith-helmeted staff who come to greet you at the gate.  Once through the gate, you are basically at the foot of a hill in what looks like a townhouse complex. Which now, having read the history of the place, makes perfect sense! 

After being whisked up the winding road through the hotel's buildings (each cluster house seems to have been divided up into a number of suites) you finally arrive at the top of the hill at the restaurants.  We were seated in the conservatory off the Polo Lounge, overlooking the pool terrace.  Sadly, the pool had been drained for repairs, but you still had that glorious view over zoo and some of Johannesburg's most expensive real estate.  Perfect.  The service was very professional and it was only a matter of minutes before our charming waiter had brought us menus - which we didn't really need as we all knew we were going all out for the full high tea experience.  And what did this include, I hear you ask?

Well, where shall we start?  The price includes unlimited warm beverages (various teas, coffees and hot chocolate) and a gorgeous little tiered silver stand of edible goodies between two people.  On the day we visited, we had:

• mini cucumber sandwich
• mini tuna sandwich
• mini chicken mayo sandwich (all sandwiches were excellent but this was my favourite)
• a mini custard-filled choux bun (lovely and light, but I'm not a fan of eclairy stuff)
• a practically flourless square of brownie-like biscuit (sinfully, bitter-chocolate delicious)
• a scone with cream and a selection of jams (fresh, fluffy and excellent)
• a little mini custard tart topped with three boozy cherries (hands-down my favourite thing.  Sublime pastry, creamy custard and mmmm, those cherries...)
• a skewer of fresh strawberries with a little ramekins of dark and white chocolate to dip it in (what a fab idea!  Although the white chocolate was a little sweet for my taste)
• a ramekin of coffe-flavoured creme brulee (oh my word.  Fabulous - also a hot contender for favourite of the day)

I also managed a few excellent cappucinos while I was there, although given the exuberant mood of the party I do wish there had actually been an option to have a glass of champagne with your tea for a small surcharge ;-)  Four of us spent two very happy (and sometimes rather raucous!) hours catching up, and for the pleasure of these cosseted surroundings, excellent beverages, attentive service and some rather wonderful nibbles, we paid R95,00 each.  Given current restaurant prices in SA, I suspect you could pay a lot more for a lot less.  And if you are paying in foreign currency it is ridiculously cheap (£6.40 or $12.70!).

But the best thing is that you fly into Africa, with visions of mayhem beamed into your subconscious by the media and family members, and then and in a place that is so sumptuously first-world - yet at the same time very obviously in Africa.  Now that makes my heart sing.

Betjeman's

The City of London is a wonderful place.  For those of you not from London, let me explain that when I say The City, I don’t mean the whole of London, the West End, Chelsea, Islington, Greenwich, Hammersmith and the like.  No, that’s Greater London.  The City of London, on the other hand, refers to the Square Mile, or more specifically a tiny area in the very centre of the city, bounded by Westminster at its western edge, followed by Camden, Islington, Hackney and finally Tower Hamlets at its eastern edge, just short of the Tower of London.  It is the oldest part of the city and was originally surrounded by the Roman city wall (parts of which can still be seen), although the current borders were fixed in Mediaeval times and have remained unchanged ever since.  It is traditionally the financial powerhouse of London and even has its own mayor.

It’s a wonderful place because it’s old and full of winding, narrow, chaotic lanes; full of history and atmosphere.  And full of restaurants.  Which is why it always puzzled me that the employees of my firm spent so much time and money at Betjeman’s.  OK, so it’s quite close to the office but then so are many other fine establishments.  I was first taken there on my very first day with the firm and even then I remember my companions saying hello to a number of other tables, so I gathered that it is a popular lunch venue among my colleagues.  But for the life of me I could not see why. The menu was very standard pubby fare (although it is definitely a restaurant as opposed to a pub) - sandwiches, a couple of burgers, bangers & mash – and the space was just a collection of low-ceilinged rooms, similar to many others in the City.  Apparently, though, lawyers are creatures of habit and so that’s where they went.  Until the day I went with some colleagues to discover that the place was under new management and had installed a chi-chi and totally inappropriate grazing menu.  I don’t personally have a problem with a grazing menu, but when you are dining with colleagues as opposed to friends, the whole idea of sharing plates becomes a little fraught.  But we gamely soldiered on until one of our number asked for some tomato sauce and was told haughtily that the establishment did not possess the aforementioned condiment.  You could feel the bristling disapproval in the air.  Oh dear.

So that was that for a good 18 months or so.  But recently we heard that it had undergone yet another change of ownership and like homing pigeons in suits, we recently went back there for lunch. What a pleasant surprise!  Although the place looked identical to its previous incarnations, the menu was short and snappy and like a breath of fresh air.  Butternut tart with pinenuts. Sirloin steak with a blue cheese glaze. Lamb on puy lentils.  Parmesan crusted chicken.  Hearty food but nothing stodgy and fuddy duddy – I was already impressed.  On this occasion, I ordered smoked haddock “rarebit” served with pancetta new potatoes, while my colleagues variously had sausages and mash (the single nod to pub food), chicken breasts of some description and a gorgeous-looking individual beef Wellington. Now I can’t vouch for theirs, but let me assure you that my dish was one of the more delicious things I have eaten recently.  The “rarebit” aspect of it turned out to be a fantastic cheese sauce made with zero cornflour – more like dollop of cheese fondue over a piece of smoked haddock that was cooked to flaky perfection.  And underneath the haddock were three roasted new potatoes each wrapped securely in crispy pancetta.  It was heavenly.  (I would say that if you are avoiding salt this is probably not the dish for you, but in that case you have no business ordering smoked-haddock-and-pancetta dishes anyway…)  The flavours and textures were perfect together and I found myself eating smaller and smaller mouthfuls in order to make it last.  I was well and truly hooked on the new Betjeman’s.

So much so that when, a couple of weeks later, I went out to lunch with another colleague I once again suggested Betjeman’s.  She had not been for a while and gave me a very dubious look, but to her credit she trusted my rave review and off we went.  This time round we both had a main course portion of a salad on the starter menu that had a bit of everything I liked – bacon, croutons, blue cheese and tons ripe avocado.  It was the perfect antidote to the anaemic iceberg-and-slightly-underripe-tomato offerings that you often get around here, and we were both exceedingly happy.  For dessert, my friend had the white chocolate and berry (was it blueberry??) Scotch pancakes which were fluffy and good, but she was somewhat disappointed to find that the chocolate and berries were in the batter, as opposed to on top of the pancakes.  I, on the other hand was totally delighted with my choice:  Pimms jelly.  This looked uninspiring at first – just a ramekin-sized unmoulded jelly of a vaguely burnt sienna colour.  But when you took a spoonful it revealed the traditional Pimms fruit suspended in its depths.  And the taste was a one hundred percent exact match for a glass of Pimms No. 1 cup.  I have no idea how they got enough alcohol in there to make it taste so authentic, and yet still got the jelly to set so hard that the fruit was evenly distributed rather than congealed in a lump at the bottom.  It was light and refreshing and was well matched by the unctuous blob of thick cream that accompanied it.  I think I’m in love.

The service on both occasions was friendly, efficient and speedy, and the bill on the second occasion when we had two courses (but no wine) came to a very reasonable £19 per person. 

Betjeman's 43-44 Cloth Fair London EC1A 7JQ Tel. 0871 4262 433

Peppermint Crisp fridge tart - local really is "lekker"

A criticism of South Africans (and pretty much all antipodeans in London) is that we arrive from sunnier Southern climes, find jobs, find accommodation and then proceed to live in little self-imposed ghettoes, socialising only with other South Africans, eating only out of South African shops, drinking in South African-themed bars, wearing Sprinkbok rugby jerseys everywhere, and generally spending time slagging off the English - our hosts!  And I do have to say that there is some truth in this. It is very hard to stick out your finger in Wimbledon/Earlsfield/Southfields and not poke a South African, because a lot of us really do congregate there.  And I have spent many a night talking to South Africans in London and thinking "good grief - you're in LONDON!  Stop carrying on about the weather - you didn't come here for the weather!!"

But let's not forget that there is always an exception that proves the rule.  Since we arrived here, Nick and I have been Eastenders.  We have never lived west of Canary Wharf and am not aware of any South Africans in our street.  Sure, you do hear Afrikaans on the train occasionally, but we are more likely to bump into our Lithuanian, Irish, Indian, Finnish or West-Indian neighbours than other Saffers.  Although I get terribly homesick, I also experience moments of such intense joy at being in London that I want to run laughing through the streets yelling "Hey, everybody, look!  I actually live here in one of the most exciting cities in the world!!"  On the other hand, you are what you are: there's no denying your roots.  And so, like clockwork, once a year Nick and I host a Big South African Braai.  Not to surround ourselves with only South Africans, but to give all our friends a little taste of what home means to us.

We usually have between 10 and 17 people in our tiny garden and we have a rich mix of natinalities and backgrounds.  This year we had 3 Brits, 5 Saffers (including me and Nick), 2 Aussies, 2 Kiwis. a German and a Mexican. So naturally we felt compelled to educate them on the finer points of South African cuisine ;-)  In the past, we have treated them to chakalaka, seven-layer salad, sosaties, braai sarmies and snoek.  And this year we treated them to not one but TWO South African delicacies:  chicken sundowners (will be blogged in a later post, I promise) and Peppermint Crisp fridge tart.

I don't know what it is about this desert that makes grown men go all misty-eyed and women look wistful, but it is one of those desserts that everyone seems to like.  It is absolutely not fancy, pretty, clever or remotely sophisticated.  But I can guarantee you that every South African reading this has tasted it because it is one of those things that every South African mom has at some stage made when catering for masses of people... say, at a braai.  Some people whom I invited but could not make it were upset not about missing the braai, but about missing the pudding!  In fact, it has become so ingrained in the South African culinary psyche that I was amused to see on my visit home in June that it has become a chocolate flavour!  Cadbury's Dairy Milk has brought out a range of "Local is lekker" chocolates in flavours like milk tart and... mint crisp fridge tart.  Jawellnofine.

So what is this ambrosial pudding?  OK, don't wince when I tell  you.  Many moons ago, a South African company called Orley Foods developed a range of non-dairy cream substitute products.  The flagship product was (and still is, apparently) Orley Whip which looks like single cream, whips up to three times its original volume and can be stored in the fridge for up to three months.  My recipe for this pudding was copied down from a package insert in a pack of Orley Whip a long time ago, probably much like every other South African I know.  The recipe combines Orley Whip with Caramel Treat (caramelised condensed milk) and Peppermint Crisp (a chocolate bar from Nestle that features a filling of tightly packed, long and very brittle tubes of BRIGHT green mint-flavoured candy - looks like Kryptonite and tastes madly minty), layered with Tennis biscuits (shortbread-ish coconut-flavoured cookies).  It struck me that it is in some ways a South African take on tiramisu, minus the culinary history and the fashionability ;-).  The final product is not overly sweet, thanks to the peppermint and the fairly neutral biscuit layers, but is rich enough to go a long way.  And I distinctly remember seeing plates licked clean.

So clearly, local is lekker, even if you have never set foot in South Africa!

PEPPERMINT CRISP FRIDGE TART (serves 6-8)

Ingredients:
250ml Orley Whip, whipped
2 packets of Tennis biscuits (although you will probably use less)
375g caramelised condensed milk
20ml caster sugar
3 Peppermint Crisp bars, crushed
3-4 drops of peppermint essence (more, if you like))

Method:
Whip the Orley Whip and then add the caramelised condensed milk castor sugar and peppermint essence.  Beat until well mixed and then stir in 2/3 of the crushed Peppermint Crisp.

Place a layer of whole tennis biscuits in a buttered 29x19x5cm dish.  Spoon 1/3 of the caramel mix over the buscuits and spread evenly.  Continue in layers, finishing with a layer of filling on top.

Refrigerate for at least 4 hours.  Decorate by sprinkling the remainder of crushed peppermint crisp on top.  Cut into squares and serve.

SUBSTITUTIONS: 
You can substitute whipping cream for Orley Whip, but the outcome may be even richer than this pudding already is!  I used Elmlea, a half-dairy cream available in the UK.  Apparently the American Cool Whip is a near-identical product.  For caramelised condensed milk, you can use dulce du leche or you can make your own by boiling a tin of normal sweetened condensed milk (warning:  hazardous!!).  The Tennis biscuits may prove problematic, although I have seen forums in Australia advising the use of a typr of Arnott's coconut biscuits or Nice biscuits.  Any other suggestions welcome.  And as for the peppermint crisp... sadly, for that you will have to bite the bullet and buy it from a South African shop.  Not sure if anything else like it exists.  Maybe start campaiging for Nestle to produce it worldwide? ;-)

This post is my submission to this month's Sugar High Friday, hosted by my friend and holiday companion Johanna.  The theme is local delicacies and you still have till 27 August to get entries in. 

A visual wine tasting note

Gotta love Andrew - he's always setting some sort of challenge for his friends ;-)  This time, it's to produce a visual tasting note of a wine.

Now we all know how much I love words and what an astonishing number of them I can fit into a post, so for me, this is quite a challenge.  Although I think You'll agree I've pulled it off this time.

The wine is a 1995 Bert Simon Riesling, btw.

And as for me, peeps, I'm off to Austria today with Johanna and won't be back till Mon the 27th.  I may not be replying to comments or e-mails till then so please don't take this personally!  Don't desert Cooksister, though, because there will be a couple of important posts going up in my absence - like WTSIM and SHF :)

Auf Wedersehn!

Salmon en croute - or what to do with a huge side of salmon

As far as I'm concerned, one of the best reasons for living over here in England is the salmon.  Growing up in South Africa, I think I can count on the fingers of one hand the times I had fresh salmon.  Smoked salmon - yes, every special occasion.  Cape salmon - quite regularly.  But the unsmoked pink stuff - almost never.  The reason is not hard to find:  salmon simply does not live in our neighbourhood of the ocean, and there is not much of a market for expensive imported fish when you have plenty of local species on your doorstep.  No, I only discovered fresh salmon in a big way when I moved to London and then it was definitely love at first bite.  First, of course, there is the gorgeous deep pink colour.  Then there is the firm texture and subtle yet delicious flavour.  And last, there are (astonishingly) the health benefits!  I had actually developed a taste for something that was good for me.  Who would have imagined. 

But like with any love affair, that first rush of infatuation never lasts and soon you are mired in the every day practicalities of life, forgetting that first rush of excitement and taking each other for granted.  But I was jolted out of my complacency when I went home for Christmas in 2005.  My friend Andrea and I were cooking a special Christma Eve dinner for our families and as Andrea did not eat meat, we wanted a fish-based show dish.  No problem - we'll make salmon en croute.  Well, we would, if we could find the salmon to do it with!  We scoured the fish shops and supermarkets to no avail and finally found some exorbitantly expensive Norwegian salmon.  It was a rude awakening after London, where salmon is as plentiful as chicken. 

Our Christmas attempt was pretty good, considering we had no recipe and were relying on our non-existent salmon en croute instincts.  We par-cooked the salmon fillets (unnecessary) and made a Parmesan-based cheese sauce to spread on top of the fish in the pastry parcel (similarly unnecessary).  I was pleasantly surprised that the parcels looked even vaguely as expected when we opened the oven later.  But something about those parcels did not work for me.  Maybe it was the Norwegian salmon, maybe it was the sauce, but it was just not as spectacular as I'd hoped.  Oh well.  But I always said I'd give it another go, and in a fit of enthusiasm about a month ago, I bought a whole side of salmon.  Which ended up in my freezer, making me feel guilty every time I opened the door.  But what the hell was I meant to do with a piece of salmon as long as my forearm, other than cut it into fillets, which seemed to defeat the object of buying such an impressive piece of fish in the first place?

Inspiration arrived in the form of an e-mail from my friends Greg and Gail, annoucing that they would soon be in London as part of one of their regular trips abroad from Sydney.  We arranged to have dinner at our place and immediately I started thinking about the menu as they are both foodies and I hate to disappoint guests that have travelled so far!  It didn't take long for my thoughts to turn to the giant side of salmon sitting in my fridge, and so a meal centred around salmon en croute was born. "En croute" literally means "in a crust" and refers to food cooked while wrapped in a pastry crust - beef Wellington is a form of beef en croute.  The benefits are that the parcel formed by the pastry, together with the butter seeping from it during cooking, combine to keep whatever you are cooking moist and delicious while the crust turns crispy and golden.  A perfect combination of tastes, and a specatcular-looking dish to impress guests!

I served the salmon en croute with a vine tomato and arugula salad, and lemon-buttered peas.  It was preceded by a starter of green bean, broad bean and mozarella salad (pictured) and followed by a dessert of gingery baked nectarines.  And the whole lot was washed down with a truly remarkable bottle of white Bordeaux from Graves, which is rapidly becoming my New Favourite White.

SALMON EN CROUTE (serves 6)

Ingredients:
1 side of salmon (between 1 and 1.5kg)
1 medium onion, thinly sliced
1 roll of ready-made puff pastry
1 tub of creme fraiche
a few tablespoons of dill (fresh or dried)
lemon juice
dried parsley
salt and pepper

Method

Remove the puff pastry from the fridge to warm up to room temperature before unrolling. 

Sautee the onion in a little EVOO until soft and translucent.  Set aside.

Remove any skin from the salmon fillet carefully with a sharp knife.  Check for any obvious bones and remove them.  Rinse the fillet and pat dry with paper towels.  Sprinkle with lemon juice, dried parsley, salt and pepper. 

Roll out the puff pastry until it will be big enough to wrap the fish.  Spoon the onions onto the pastry slightly off centre, in approximately the place where the fish will lie.  Place the fish on top of the onions.  Spread the creme fraiche evenly over the fish and sprinkle liberal amounts of dill over the creme fraiche.

Fold the pastry over the fish to form a parcel.  Moisten one surface of each pastry edge with egg white and seal securely.  Poke a coule of small holes in the top of the pastry parcel to release steam.  If possible, let the parcel rest in the fridge for an hour or so, or as long as you can.

Pre-heat the oven to 200C.  Place the fish parcel on a baking sheet covered in baking parchment and bake for about 40 minutes.  Remove from oven and show off to your dinner guests ;-) Cut into individual slices and serve. 

Raspberry and white chocolate cheesecake

I will make a recipe for a number of reasons.  Sometimes, it's because I have tasted something in a restaurant and fallen in love, and then try to recreate it at home.  Sometimes, it's because I have an unfamiliar ingredient in my fridge and a particular recipe seems to be the perfect way to try it out.  Sometimes, it's a desperate attempt to use up some stuff in my overflowing fridge.  And sometimes it's simply because the picture accompanying the recipe is so pretty that I just can't resist making it.  Most of my cooking falls into the first three categories, but a couple of weeks ago we had people over for lunch and I decided that, in keeping with the lovely weather (a rarity this summer!), I would make something totally girly and pretty and summery, and I could picture in my mind's eye the old magazine clipping containing the picture of white chocolate and raspberry cheesecake. 

I must admit up front that I'm a cheescake virgin.  It's one of the cakes I have always enjoyed eating, far more so than, say, chocolate cake.  But it is also the cake that I've always been too intimidated to make.  I remember being brought up as a bit of a cheesecake snob.  Long before my contemporaries had even moved on from messy wedges of chocolate cake, I would be eyeing out the cheesecake on menus and would ask the waitress "is it baked or not?  I don't want it if it's not baked".  Well, excuuuuuse me!  To me, gelatine-based cheesecakes were not really cheesecakes at all.  They were... fridge cakes, fridge tarts, whatever - but they lacked the consistency that made me fall in love with cheesecakes.  Ordinary cakes had an airy springiness.  Gelatine cheesecakes had a disturbing wobbliness.  But baked cheesecakes just have this incredible airless, wobble-less creamy density that I absolutely loved. 

So it should come as no surprise to you that when I embarked on my first-ever cheesecake, it was definitely going to be a baked one.  As I said, the sheer summery exuberance of the picture is what attracted me to the recipe and reading through the recipe I was struck by how simple it seemed.  There were really only two things that marred my cheesecake perfection:  firstly, the fact that our crummy local supermarket (I hate it but it is the closest to our house...) had no fromage frais when we went shopping.  Instead, I guessed at ricotta for a substitute.  Now I don't know what the difference in water content may be between the two, but the centre of the cheesecake never quite set as solidly as the edges and I am left with the sneaking suspicion that this may not have been the best ingredient substitution.  Secondly, the recipe calls for the cheesecake to be allowed to cool naturally in the oven.  Sadly, in my kitchen, there is only one oven and it was needed for making sweet potato wedges that day, so the cake half-cooled in the oven and then spent time in the fridge.  Not sure this was exactly the way forward either - next time I will plan  my time better.

But those two concerns aside, I must say that this recipe was a total breeze and a big favourite among the guests.  It took all my willpower not to eat the filling mix straight out of the mixing bowl as it was absolutely, decadently delicious.  Although I find white chocolate too sweet, it is offset here by the tartness of the raspberries and the two balance each other perfectly.  If you feel the chocolate curls are too over the top, you can choose to omit the topping and serve the cake uniced (pictured top left) - it looked equally lovely topless ;-)

WHITE CHOCOLATE AND RASPBERRY CHEESECAKE
(serves 6-8)

Ingredients:
FOR THE BASE:
50g unsalted butter
225g gingernut biscuits (ginger snaps), finely crushed
50g chopped pecan nuts of walnuts

FOR THE FILLING:
275g mascarpone
175g fromage frais
2 eggs, beaten
45ml caster sugar
250g white chocolate
225g fresh raspberries

FOR THE TOPPING
115g mascarpone
75g fromage frais
white chocolate curls and raspberries to decorate

Method

Preheat the oven to 150C. Melt the butter in a pan over low heat, then stir in the crushed biscuits and nuts.  Mix well and press the mixture evenly and firmly into the base of a 23cm springform cake tin.

For the filling, beat together the mascarpone and fromage frais, then beat in the eggs and caster sugar until smooth.

Break the white chocolate into smaller pieces and place in a heatproof bowl set over a pot of simmering water (or use a double-boiler if you have one).  Stir occasionally to check for lumps and remove from the heat when chocolate has melted completely.

Stir the melted chocolate into the mascarpone mixture, then carefully fold in the whole raspberries. 

Pour the filling into the springform cake tin and spread it evenly.  Place the springform on a cookie sheet with raised edges - my filling seeped out of the join between the sides and base of the springform and made a mess in my oven. 

Bake for about 1 hour or until just set (you can stick a skewer into the centre to check, or just gently shake the tin to see how wobbly things are).  Switch off oven, but leave the cheesecake where it is and allow to cool until completely set.

Release the springform tin and lift the cheesecake onto a plate.  Mix the remaining mascarpone and fromage frais in a bowl and spread carefully over the top of the cheesecake.  Decorate with fresh raspberries and chocolate curls (these are easy to make with a vegetable peeler) and serve.

Food blogger picnic at the Henley Regatta 2007

What can I say: faith can move mountains. 

Or at least rainclouds, it would appear. 

No, I haven't come over all mystic - I just wanted to impress on you what a leap of faith it was on my part to press ahead with plans for a riverside food blogger picnic in the middle of the wettest summer on record in England! It had rained for weeks (or so it seemed) in the lead-up to the Henley Regatta and indeed, news reports from the initial days of the regatta indicated that for the first time, the rigid dress code in the enclosures had been relaxed enough for ladies to wear wellington boots with their below-the-knee frocks!  Having heard this, a number of bloggers (and other assorted friends!) took fright and decided to pull out at the last minute.  But not me.  No, I'm the woman who planned a 100% outdoor wedding and reception in autumn in South Africa with no backup plan.  I laugh in the face of bad weather - and more often than not, the weather smiles back at me.  So on the Friday night of the regatta's final weekend, Nick and I drove across London to Shiplake to have dinner and spend the evening with Andrew, and we were packed for a picnic, come what may. My joy when I was awoken by bright sunlight streaming through the lounge windows on Saturday morning knew no bounds!

So as in previous years, only a little earler than usual, we carried our extensive picnic gear  all the way from the station, across the bridge and along probably 1.5km of river bank to Remenham.  I have to say, I have never seen the place so sodden: the area in front of the little shops before the Barn Bar had needed temporary plastic flooring to prevent a Glastonbury-like mudbath.  But our preferred spot on the river bank was mercifully relatively dry, blissfully unoccupied and (important for later) shaded.  So Andrew, Nick and I spread a few blankets and started unpacking our gear, waiting for the others to arrive.  Seeing as we had Pimms but no Lemonade, we decided to toast our good fortune with some rather delicious New Zealand sparkling wine that Andrew had brought - the excellent NV Allan Scott Methode Traditionelle.  A lovely fine mousse and fruity flaavours overlaying the traditional Champagne-style toastiness - anda steal at under £12! Hot on our heels were my friends Lisa, Alex and Nathalie, followed by Johanna, who had texted me before she left home to ask whether to bring wellies or flip flops! Our penultimate arrival was the lovely Rachel of Yumchia, another foodie lawyer, and last but not least came Bill who had been delayed leaving Paddington.  (specially for Kalyn:  Top photo shows from L to R: Johanna, me, Rachel, Andrew and Bill.  Lower photo shows Alex, Nathalie, Lisa and me).  Once we were all present and accounted for, I have to say that we wasted no time in getting ourselves fed and watered.  Come and see what we had...

First to come out was obviously the Pimms, with Lisa doing a sterling job of chopping all the traditional fruit.  But (astonishingly) man cannot live by Pimms alone, and so Alex brought out her rather impressive container of croustades and I broke out my perennial picnic favourites:  peppadew and Parmesan muffins. 

But it wasn't long before we were hungry again and so by about noon we had unpacked our smorgasbord of picnic delights.  Below, from left, we have:  Johanna's salmon and asparagus couscous; Alex's Parma ham, tomato and basil tart; my smoked mackerel pate; Bill's Roquefort quiche; Rachel's pasta salad; and Rachel's duck pancakes.

And as usual, there was an flurry of food photography (nicely illustrated by Andrew over on the left), curiously regarded by all the other picnickers (clearly not bloggers!) and general passers-by.  In between glasses of Pimms and delicious food (I was particularly taken with Bill's astonishingly smooth Roquefort quiche and Rachel's yummy little pancakes), some of the girls strolled down to the little collection of traders' stalls on the other side of the Barn Bar, selling the usual collection of rowing kit, every colour of pashmina in the world, fabulous hats and jewellery.  I was particularly taken with Wonderland jewellery where the charming proprietor chatted to me for ages and patiently let me try on everything in the store.  The designs are all her own and set with beautiful semi-precious stones.  A little further along, Lisa learned the true meaning of a can-do attitude when we encountered Muddy Dog handbags.  They do a gorgeous range of bags in every colour of the rainbow and are happy to combine different elements of various bags to create a bespoke bag just for you, and boy, are they friendly and charming!  Lisa fell in love with the lime green bag (in the second picture of this post) and ordered a fuchsia one to match.  They are wonderful people and I encourage all bag-ladies like us to pay their site a visit.

Oh, and there was some rowing too.  In particular, the super-successful South African pair consisting of DiClemente and Cech rowed past us with their blades painted in the colours of our national flag.  After not a lot of support from the bank, the unsuspecting pair suddenly rowed past a group of about 20 South Africans (including some of our party) and the river bank just erupted in screams of "Go South Africaaaaa!!!".  Nick said later you could actually see the grins on their faces as they heard us.  And they went on to win the race!

After all that excitement, some sugar was in order, so we broke out the desserts. Johanna had brought the drop-dead delicious white chocolate and raspberry muffins on the left.  They were wonderful, with the perfect balance of sweetness and tartness, and oh so pretty.  Andrew, on the other hand, had made one of Moira's recipes - in particular, her oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.  Can't recommend these highly enough, really - they are chewy and oaty and chocolaty and HUGE:  everything a cookie should be.

And that, as they say, is that.  By the day's end we were all a little chubbier, very relaxed, pickled in Pimms and very pleased with ourselves for having kept the faith and going ahead with the picnic despite the...um, variable weather.  It was lovely meeting Rachel and seeing everybody else and I hope we can all meet back there again next year.  And if you still haven't had enough of Henley, see my Henley Regatta 2007 Flickr album for more photos.

Waiter, there's something in my... meatless barbecue!

Halleluja - summer seems to have arrived!  Long sunny afternoons, blue skies with fluffy clouds:  now this is more like it.  Everything seems better in summer.  There's a spring in my step, I smile at strangers and I have more energy - just a pity we all know it can't last ;-) 

But while it's here, we make the most of it.  I got home last Friday to find Nick waiting at  the door.  "What do you think we should have for dinner?" were the first words out of his mouth as I stepped across the threshold.  And before waiting for an answer, he nodded towards the lamb chops defrosting on the counter and said "I thought maybe we could braai...".  Clearly, it was more of an announcement than a question! and I have to say, there are few things that feel more indulgent and put me in a more expansive mood than the two of us sitting in our little garden chatting and sipping wine while Nick lazily keeps an eye on and turns the sizzling meat on the Weber.  Bliss.

But I digress - I'm not only here to share our little braai a deux.  I am actually here to announce the theme of this month's Waiter, There's Something in My... event, which I am proud to be hosting again.  And in fact, you can put all thoughts of sizzling lamb chops out of your head. As I've said before, a braai is the mainstay of many a South African social gathering, but what about those of us who don't eat meat?  Often a braai is more like starvation rations for non-meat eaters as people seldon think beyond their steak, chops and sausage on the flames and leave the vegetarians to pick at the salads.  But when you start looking, there are a wealth of other options beyond meat.  Vegetables and fruit can be cooked both on the grid and in the coals, and if you have a gas grill you can cook an even greater variety of non-meat treats.  But I realise that for many people this total abandoning of the flesh may be just a tad too challenging, so I will widen the "no meat" rule to include seafood of any description, as long as you cook it outdoors on some sort of barbecue.  It doesn't have to be a main course - you can still have your lamb chops, provided you tell us about the vegetable kebabs you had them with, or the grilled nectarines you had later. Get the picture?

So... what are the rules?

1. Write up your non-meat barbecue recipe (vegetables, fruit, fish - just no meat!) and please link back to this announcement in your post.

2.  E-mail me.  Please make sure that Waiter there's something in my features in the subject line.

3. In the e-mail please include:

• the URL of your entry
• your blog's name
• the name of the dish
• your approximate location

4.  The deadline for entries is Monday 27 August and I hope to have the roundup posted by the end of that week.

Come on babies, light those fires!

**STOP PRESS!**  It has come to my attention that some of you who want to take part in WTSIM don't have access to barbecue facilities in your current accommodation (a violation of your basic human rights, if you ask me, but there you go!).  So, I've decided to amend the rules slightly.  If you own a griddle pan, feel free to prepare your vegetarian/pescatarian treats on that in lieu of a BBQ grill - and peeps, I wanna see those grill marks!  In fact, you can also do things wrapped in aluminium foil in the oven (no different to cooking, say, a potato in foil in the coals).  Does that make things a little easier? Off you go then - go forth and BBQ!