The shape of things

Last week I had a vision. I closed my eyes and all I could see were serving plates in Italian restaurants, stacked with lamb chops and veal escalops. Some of them had steamed fish with slices of lemon, others had mountains of pasta. At least one of them was held by a slick waiter in a white dinner jacket but mostly they were carried by plump women with multicolored aprons and smiles on their well-fed faces. One of the women had yellow plastic flowers in her hair. I know her well, she’s the lady from Cumpa Cosimo restaurant in Ravello where everything tastes divine (it’s our holiday hangout). And she’s got attitude. She used to hit the kids lightly on their heads if they didn’t finish their plates and say “Pasta non Pane”!

We do have a number of serving plates but these visions called for new ones – and Italian feast was on the cards and I would somehow trick my husband into making his delicious tomato sauce to start. We headed to Anne’s brocante in St Christoly, it’s the most beautiful place, she has such pretty, well-chosen things and spending time in her company is a treat – some people just ooze grace and kindness. There was too much choice so I got more than I needed (brocante shopping is very dangerous). Beautiful colors and patterns and exciting shapes. Talking of shapes and forms  – since my body started taking on a new shape I have had a distinctive craving for all things sour and acidic (thus the tomato sauce) and a preference for lean meat over too fat. So out went the lamb chops, in came the veal escalopes. We still have a lot of sage that is braving winter so Saltimbocca it had to be. For dessert I made a pine nut and lemon ricotta cream tart, inspired from one of my favorite restaurants in Rome, Matricianella.

The “secret” sauce

Let me introduce myself, I’m the husband. Mimi, my wife, somehow talked me into making a tomato sauce for Manger and now she wants me to explain it … in writing. Well, first there is a story to tell. I met Mimi in Paris about a thousand moons ago and soon after (very soon actually) she visited me in Reykjavík. She arrived late and I wasted no time in trying to impress by making dinner for two. It was a simple tuna and parsley pasta with lemon and butter – served with Pinot Grigio. Perfectly decent but admittedly nothing amazing. Mimi was very gracious about my cooking and went on to admit that she herself wasn’t very accomplished in the kitchen. I on the other hand, empowered by my success with the tuna told her I was quite the little chef. Some days later, this time in Paris, I was working on some tedious project at her desk and she appeared, impossibly glamorous and put together as she always is holding a tray of “snacks”. I remember the moment well. It was a cheese soufflé, an endive and Roquefort salad with walnuts, served with a nice chilled beer. To finish she had made a strawberry tartlet with vanilla custard cream. It was the beginning of what has been an absolute defeat on my part when it comes to cooking. You might say that the last 10 years have been a humbling experience for me culinary speaking, like the garlic in the tomato sauce I have been, and continue to be, crushed in the kitchen. It does have its advantages, a wonderful three-course meal or two every day is nothing to complain about and all I have to do is wash the dishes afterwards. Once in a while, when Maman is tired or busy I make something for the family, often Italian or something on the grill. I always get rave reviews, practically a standing ovation. It makes me feel like the granny who finally figured out how to operate the DVD player and all the family is shouting bravo and yippee. It’s more of a sympathy vote. In our kitchen there is only one master … and I figured out a long time ago that it’s not me.

Vito Posillipo’s tomato sauce

In my life I’ve had endless versions of amazing tomato sauces and a few terrible ones too. It’s a good way to judge a restaurant if it’s Italian but if it’s French you should probably look elsewhere on the menu. This one is by no means a perfect tomato sauce but we like it, it has developed over the years with the family. It used to be more spicy but Louise doesn’t like that. I’ve had my aubergine period (which technically makes this pasta alla Norma) and my anchovy period which was very controversial. But this is a version everybody likes. We call it Vito Posillipo’s tomato sauce. He was a character, although never seen, in the movie 9 ½ weeks and unfortunately for him he was gunned down in a restaurant on Halloween. At the time he was having Ziti al forno which does have tomatoes in it but otherwise has little to do with our sauce. But what a name. Saying it is almost therapeutic – like supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Vito Posillipo, try saying it! One day, I’ll have a dog called that. Enjoy the sauce.

A note on the sauce. Normally I would slice the garlic thinly and sauté in the oil first before adding the tomatoes. But I always forget that part and so I used to frantically crush garlic into the sauce after the tomatoes were already in. I am not sure if it’s an improvement – it’s more of a superstition but this is how we make it.

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 (8 ounces/ 230 g) cans good-quality peeled & drained tomatoes
2 dried red chillies
3 gloves garlic, crushed (minced)
1 big glass red wine
2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar
2 teaspoons granulated sugar
1 bunch fresh basil leaves
100 g/ 1 cup and 2 tablespoons freshly grated parmesan cheese
100 g/ 6 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter
Coarse sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper

For this dish, we used long fusilli pasta/ 500 g/ 17-18 ounces.

Heat the olive oil over medium heat, add the tomatoes and crush them with a large spoon. Add the dried chillies, crushed garlic, vinegar, sugar and red wine. Season with salt and pepper. Cover the saucepan with parchment paper, lower the heat and simmer for 30-40 minutes.
Cook the pasta in a large pot of salted boiling water until al dente. Drain and mix in the piping hot tomato sauce. Add the butter, parmesan and basil, stir gently and serve immediately. Reserve extra parmesan and basil for individual servings.

Veal Saltimbocca (Veal with sage & prosciutto)

1 pound approx/ 450/500 g veal escalopes/ cutlets (preferably sliced thin) – I count about 2 slices per person (about the size of the palm).
6 slices prosciutto, about half a slice per veal escalope
A bunch of fresh sage
Plain flour for dusting
5 tablespoons butter
4 tablespoons olive oil
1 glass of white wine
4 tablespoons/ 60 ml veal stock
Coarse sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 180°C/ 350°F

Dust the veal escalopes with flour on both sides. In a large sauté pan, melt the butter and olive oil until sizzling on a medium heat. Sauté the veal, about 15 seconds on each side. Season with salt and pepper and scatter the sage leaves all over. Pour the wine and leave to reduce for 2 minutes. Remove the veal and transfer to an oven-proof baking dish. Add the veal stock to the juices of the pan, mix well and continue to cook the sauce for 3 minutes. Place the prosciutto on top of each veal slice. Pour sauce on top, a a few more sage leaves and place dish in the oven for 8 to 10 minutes. Serve immediately with roast potatoes (see recipe below). I also like to serve with steamed spinach with a drizzle of olive oil and a few squeezes of lemon. Perfect!

Rosemary, garlic and lemon roast potatoes

2 pounds/ 900 g potatoes, peeled and halved
Lemon zest of 1 lemon
3 to 4 large garlic cloves, unpeeled
A few sprigs of fresh rosemary, leaves picked and chopped
Olive oil
Coarse sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper

Parboil the potatoes for 10 minutes. Drain the potatoes, toss them in a baking dish, add the garlic, drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle lemon zest, salt and chopped rosemary and freshly ground black pepper.
Cook in the preheated oven for 30 minutes, or until golden.

Pine nut and lemon ricotta cream tart

For the crust

2 cups/ 240g plain flour
1 egg
1/2 cup/ 120 g unsalted butter, cut into cubes & at room temperature
2 tablespoons/ 30 g sugar
½ cup/ 60 g confectioner’s sugar
¼ cup/ 30 g ground almond
½ lemon zest
A pinch of salt

In a large bowl, mix all the ingredients together until the mixture forms a homogenous dough. Shape into a ball, wrap in cling film and refrigerate for at least an hour.
Roll dough to fit a 9-inch/23 cm tart pan. Line the pan, prick the bottom with a fork and place in the freezer for 30 minutes.

For the filling

½ cup/ 120 ml honey
½ cup/ 100 g granulated sugar
A pinch of salt
1/3 cup/ 80 g unsalted butter, cut into cubes
1/3 cup + 1 tbsp/100 ml heavy cream
5 ounces/140 g ricotta
Zest of 1 lemon
2 tablespoons lemon juice
150 g pine nuts
1 egg

Preheat oven to 170°C/ 325 °F

Combine the honey, sugar and salt in a medium saucepan. Add the butter and bring the mixture to a soft boil over medium heat, stirring constantly. Take off the heat and leave to cool for 15 minutes.
Whisk in the cream, lemon zest, lemon juice, ricotta and the egg until you get a smooth mixture.
Take the tart out of the freezer, scatter the pine nuts over the bottom of the tart, and pour the filling. Bake tart in the preheated oven for approximately 50 minutes, or until the tart and crust are golden brown. Don’t worry if the tart is still ‘jiggly’ when you take it out, it will set once cooled.
Leave to cool completely before unmolding.

A few summers ago, Marche, Italy

All good things must come to an end and so it was that our idyllic Christmas, complete with all our children was over. But we resisted and fought bravely right to the end, making the most of every moment until there was nothing left to say but goodbyes and love yous and till we meet again. Gunnhildur and Þórir (Icelandic spelling – did you know that our name is Thorisson because my father in law’s name is Thorir (Þórir) – Icelandic people take their last name from the first name of their father) left us on Monday after two weeks of pure family bliss. 12 days spent eating and playing and trying to construct a house for some of the dogs. We all felt so happy during those precious days – if I was asked, what is happiness, I would say family. Then, of course, I would start thinking about food.

On our last day Oddur, my husband, wanted to take us all to a château in ruins we found two falls ago, one of the most beautiful, lyrical, tragic buildings I have ever seen. It has special meaning to Manger because our emblem, the wreath with the Fox Terrier and figs that is just above this text was inspired by a rosette in the ceiling of that very château. Just over a year ago I sent a photo of it to my favorite illustrator in the world, Anna Bond of Rifle Paper Co., and she came up with this marvellous logo that I somehow know will follow me for the rest of my days.
We all had boots on, except my husband who had lent his to his eldest son. The earth was particularly muddy and wet, the sun came out and for a brief moment I think the cows were trying to share the moment by dancing around us. Oddur wanted to take a picture of me with my “bump” so he was a bit demanding as he often is. We chased the fickle December light, found the room with the wreath, took some pictures, had some fun. That night we had pizza night with limitless creativity and a few dubious results and the next day it was farewell at the airport.

Our last meal was a very hurried Vietnamese phở at an Asian supermarket near the airport. It is the Thorisson way to almost miss a plane. Almost. An idea had been brewing in my head. My new year’s craving was lobster and I wanted to have it with an Asian sauce. So I needed ingredients, spices, some cooking wine. I can’t think of a more auspicious meal to start the new year, noodles – symbolic in Chinese culture for a long life, lobster, the most regal meal of all. All those spices and tastes. It was a perfect way to resurrect our holiday after the older kids had left. We had a beautiful lunch on the 31st. It started with a chicken broth. So purifying after all the festivities, lots of taste and goodness, so simple but yet slightly complex. The tapioca pearls, all those flavors. I can’t wait to have it again. It’s a bouillon very much inspired by all those visits to Le Comptoir du Relais in our Paris days. Yves Cambdeborde makes the most amazing chicken bouillon – this is my simplified version, sans foie gras, it wasn’t needed this time.

It was a late lunch but we had more eating to do, a tournedos Rossini with a nice bottle of Rauzan-Ségla, a gift from my lovely literary agent, Berta Treitl, who came for a visit recently. A woman in my state can’t have much, but I had a sip or two.
As I am expecting I need to think about flexible clothes. Back from the boxes in the attic are the big sweaters, the roomy dresses. I’ve been thinking about what to wear for the coming weeks. Going through all the clothes that might fit me in a few weeks is like going through a corridor of memories – I just never thought I’d be walking through here again.

I stumbled upon a dress that I haven’t worn so much lately. It’s a 10-year-old Missoni dress I wore the night I met my husband. It was how we met. He simply walked up to me and said, “Is that a Missoni dress?”. Suave? Strange? Here we are several kids and thousands of dinners and lunches later.
As I am writing this I feel a bit emotional. It has been the most remarkable year. I started Manger with no particular agenda. I love to cook and being a bit isolated in the countryside I wanted to share my recipes with old friends and maybe make some new ones. This last year has seen me complete my book with a wonderful editor at Clarkson Potter. I have done a TV show with Cuisine+ here in France. Met incredible and generous people from across the world, some of them have stayed with us at our home, others have been virtual friends. I just want you all to know how grateful I am that we’ve met, one way or the other … Here’s to the days ahead.

Chicken bouillon with tapioca pearls and mint
(adapted from Yves Camdeborde’s recipes)

Serves 4
1.5 kg/ approx 3.3 pounds chicken wings
3 medium carrots, chopped
1 leek, chopped
1 onion, peeled & halved
1 celery branch, chopped
5 thin slices of fresh ginger
1 bay leaf
A sprig of thyme
4 cloves
1 cinnamon stick
1 anis star
1 tablespoon coriander seeds
1 tablespoon black pepper corns
150 g tapioca pearls
A bunch of fresh mint leaves, slice finely
Coarse sea-salt

Place the chicken wings in a large pot. Pour enough water to cover the wings, adding about 350 ml/ 1 ½ cup more . Bring to a boil, remove any scum on the surface and add all the vegetables, herbs and spices. Season with salt and cover with a lid. Simmer gently for 1h and 45 minutes. After 45 minutes, take out 6/7 chicken wings and set aside to cool. Continue to simmer the bouillon.
Heat a small saucepan and bring lightly salted water to a boil. Add the tapioca pearls and cook according to package instructions, about 15 minutes, or until the pearls are translucent. Drain pearls and set aside in a bowl of cold water to prevent them from sticking.
Drain soup through a sieve.
Slice fine slivers from the chicken wings and place them in the serving bowls. Add about a tablespoon (or two) of tapioca pearls on top. Finely dice a few carrots (optional) and scatter in bowl. Season the bouillon if necessary, and spoon a few ladles in the serving bowls. Sprinkle with mint leaves just before serving.

Lobster with e-fu noodles

(serves 4)

2 lobsters, each 450 to 680g/ 1 to 1½ pounds – chopped into approx. 8 pieces each (you can ask your fish monger to prepare this for you if you prefer) – crack the claws slightly.
8 stalks scallions, chopped
Ginger, about 20 fine thumb-sized fine slices
2 garlic cloves, finely sliced
3 tablespoons oyster sauce
2 tablespoons soy sauce
¼ teaspoon white ground pepper
1 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon sesame oil
1 chilli, finely sliced (or two if you like it hot!)
1 tablespoon rice wine vinegar
3 tablespoons Shaoxing wine
250 ml/ 1 cup water mixed with 2 tablespoons cornstarch
Cooking oil, for frying

Serve with 500 g/ approx 18 ounces e-fu noodles/ Yee Mien (flat Cantonese egg noodles sold at Asian supermarkets)

Prepare the noodles:
In a large pot of salted boiling water, cook the e-fu noodles/yee mien for 3 minutes, or until al dente. Drain and rinse under cold water. Set aside.

Cook the lobster:
Rinse lobster under cold running water and pat dry with kitchen towel.
Heat 3 tablespoons of oil in a large wok (or big deep skillet) on a medium heat. Add the sliced ginger and fry until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add the garlic, half of the scallions and continue to fry for 2 minutes, stirring constantly. Increase the heat to high and add the lobster pieces, and stir until the shells starts turning bright red/orange.
Add the soy sauce, lobster sauce, wine vinegar, white pepper, chilli, sugar and continue to stir for 3 minutes. Pour the corn starch/ water mixture in the wok/skillet. Continue to stir until the sauce thickens and starts bubbling. Add the Shaoxing wine, stir and cover with a lid for 3 minutes. Lower heat to medium. Lift the lid, stirring continuously so the lobster is entirely coated with the sauce. Test to see if the lobster is cooked, then sprinkle the rest of the scallions, reserving a tablespoon for the serving dish. Season with salt if necessary.
Prepare the noodles on a large serving plate, place the lobster on top and pour the sauce all over. Scatter more scallions on top. Serve immediately.

Chocolate meringues kisses with toasted almonds and apricot cream

(makes 7 to 10 small meringues, depending on size)

3 egg whites
150 g/ ¾ cup sugar (preferably extra-fine/ caster sugar)
A pinch of cream of tartar
A few drops of vanilla extract
To garnish:
200 g/ 7 ounces black/dark chocolate, melted au bain-marie
90 g/ 3 ounces almond slivers/amandes effilées
1 tsp granulated sugar
10 dried apricots, finely diced – 6 for the cream, and 4 for the meringue topping
180 ml 3/4 cup heavy cream, for whipping
2 teaspoon of icing sugar

Preheat the oven to 140°C/ 280° F

In a large glass bowl, beat the egg whites with an electric beater on a medium speed. When the mixture starts frothing, increase the speed to high. Incorporate little by little the sugar, vanilla extract and the cream of tartar, until the egg whites are glossy and form stiff peaks.
Spoon small to medium-sized meringues onto a parchment lined baking tray. Transfer to the preheated oven and cook for 55 minutes in the centre level of the oven.
Before taking them out, switch the oven off and leave the door slightly open for 10 minutes. They will cool down slowly and this will prevent them from cracking. Place them on a pastry rack and leave to cool completely.
Heat a sauté pan and roast the almond slivers, shaking the pan occasionally to avoid burning. Sprinkle a teaspoon of sugar and continue to roast for a couple of minutes more. The almond slivers are ready when they are golden. Take off the heat and set aside to cool.
Break the chocolate into small pieces, place in a heatproof bowl and melt au bain-marie (over a pan of simmering hot water). Set aside.
Whip the cream and icing sugar till stiff, then fold in 6 finely diced apricot.
Place the meringues on a parchment paper covered surface. Take a teaspoon or two (depending on meringue size) and pour over the tip of the meringue. Let it drip casually, then sprinkle the diced apricots and toasted almonds. The chocolate will set within 10 minutes.
Serve meringues with the apricot whipped cream on the side.

A taxi driver in London once gave me a first class lecture on the meaning and origins of the idiom to be “at sixes and sevens”. I don’t know how it came up, I remember he had an awful lot to say about everything and before I knew it he had given me the whole story of the disputing trade companies that were bickering over order of precedence. They were founded in the same year but it could not be established which was founded first. Both wanted to be sixth (in the order of precedence) so now they change their order every year and are permanently between sixth and seven. It was a short taxi ride, from Waterloo station to Knightsbridge, had it been longer I would probably know … everything.

The phrase is used to describe someone who is in a state of confusion or can’t make up their mind. Which is a perfect way to describe me in the last few weeks. All that lovely holiday food waiting to be cooked, the endless possibilities. I have been trying to restrain myself, I have gone to the market with a menu in my head, but then I end up buying all sorts of other stuff too. Let’s just say that rules have been broken. We’ve had two sets of breakfasts, lunches in the afternoons and dinners on “Spanish time”. I’ve had minced pies practically every morning for breakfast (some of them delivered to me in bed no less), it is an absolute Christmas ritual for me to have them throughout the holidays (and not just for Christmas). Starters and desserts have been served simultaneously on occasion, which is quite nice as some of them have never met before. I am not sure though, that the Eaton mess enjoyed sharing the stage with the oysters – desserts can be such snobs!

We, like the rest of France, have gone mad for seafood, a plateau de fruit de mer is one of the most traditional things to serve at Christmas and every market has been bursting with oysters and crevettes, bulots, tourteaux, lobsters and langoustines. We like to call our seafood platter “royal” a nod to my father I suppose because a royal seafood platter is his favorite thing to order in restaurants. He likes the extravagance of it and when he first met my husband he made a point of ordering the most sumptuous one. When Chinese people invite for dinner they like to have too much food as a way of showing their hospitality. Icelandic people, on the other hand, think it’s rude not to finish what they are served. So you can imagine the scenes, my father kept ordering, my husband kept finishing.

We’ve had our fair share of poultry, soups and stews and all sorts of vegetable cocottes. Chocolates, meringues, delicious puddings and turkish delights. I made a lovely lavender honey nougat that I just had to share with you along with the minced pie recipe that I am particularly fond of (although I probably should have shared it sooner so you could have enjoyed it longer). A cauliflower soup with Cantal cheese was particularly satisfying one grey day earlier in December and pink radishes have found their way into many dishes this year so I’m putting those too.

The best gift we’ve had this year was to have all our children at Christmas, to be able to share a table with all of them at this time of the year is pure magic. And what tables we’ve shared. We met up with the older kids in Paris where I was lucky enough to be invited to host a “Cooklette” (workshop) at one of my favorite stores, Colette. What better way to spend an afternoon in December than to teach a bunch of great kids how to make marmelade and scones à la Paddington bear, in honor of his upcoming movie. Such good fun. We had two dim sum meals at one of my favorite Chinese restaurants in Paris, Auberge des trois bonheurs. They have the traditional round spinning tables and the younger kids were so eager to get to their food that the dishes literally came flying off the table when they played roulette. Back in Bordeaux we took them all to one of the prettiest restaurants you can find, La Tupina, as a holiday treat. They have very classic Bordelaise food, great fries cooked in duck fat, quality meats and are a perfect setting for a family meal. We got such great service, a family of six children and numerous dogs is not always easy to cater to.

Which brings me back to the sixes and sevens. That phrase is taking on added significance for us these days, it’s the last Christmas we’ll have six kids, next year they’ll be seven.

Velouté of cauliflower with Cantal
Serves 6
3 potatoes, peeled and sliced
1 medium-sized cauliflower head, coarsely chopped
A sprig of thyme 200 g/ 7 ounces Cantal cheese, shredded (or any of your favourite cheese)
30 g/ 2 tablespoons butter
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
130 g/ 4 ounces slivered almonds
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
Sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper
A dash of piment d’Espelette A few sprigs of fresh chive, finely chopped

In a large pot, bring 750 ml/ 3 & 1/4 cups water to a boil and add coarsely chopped cauliflower head, thyme, nutmeg and potatoes. Cook for 30 minutes on a medium to low heat or until vegetables are tender. Add more water if necessary. Off the heat, mix the soup with a blender until smooth. Return the pot to the heat, add the shredded cantal cheese and simmer for a few minutes ona very low heat, stirring until the cheese is completely melted. Season with salt & pepper. Add the butter and stir. Set aside. Preheat a pan on the stove. Pour the almonds in the pan and roast, shaking the pan every 10 seconds to prevent from burning. The almond slivers are ready when they turn golden, about 2 to 3 minutes max. Serve soup in individual bowls, sprinkle with finely chopped chives and slivered roasted almonds, plus a dash of piment d’Espelette (optional). Season accordingly.

Roasted pink radishes & carrots with balsamic vinegar & rosemary
Serves 4 as a starter

Preheat the oven to 220°C/ 420 F

1 large pink radish, sliced finely
A bunch of small organic carrots
A few sprigs of fresh rosemary
2-3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1 pomegranate
A drizzle of olive oil
Coarse sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper

Place the vegetables on a roasting tray, drizzle olive oil, sprinkle salt and pepper and finely chopped rosemary. Roast for 20 minutes. Place on a serving plate and scatter pomegranate seeds all over. Drizzle with additional olive oil and balsamic vinegar if desired. Season to taste if necessary.

Mince pies

This is a lovely recipe, so simple and delicious. I enjoy preparing mince pies in advance, so they are ready to be popped in the oven anytime. One of my favourite treats for the holidays, I especially like to have them for breakfast. So festive!

For the pastry: 240 g/ 1 cup unsalted butter, cold and cut into cubes
360 g/ 3 cups plain flour
130 g/ 2/3 cup granulated sugar
A pinch of salt
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
1 full egg
1 egg yolk

Makes approx 18 small mince pies.

Preheat oven to 200°C/ 390 F

Mix the flour and butter, then gradually add the sugar, vanilla extract and salt. Mix until crumbly, then add the egg and egg yolk. Shape dough into a ball and cover with cling film. Refrigerate for 30 minutes before rolling.

Quick & easy mincemeat:

60 g/ ½ cup dark raisins, chopped
60 g/ ½ cup golden raisins, chopped
80 ml/ 1/3 cup calvados (apple brandy)
60 g/ ½ cup candied orange, chopped
30g/ 2 tablespoons candied ginger, chopped
Zest of half an orange
Zest of half a lemon
1 tablespoon lemon juice
¼ cup slivered almonds
2 tablespoons brown sugar (cassonade)
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon ground nutmeg
½ teaspoon ground cloves
1 beaten egg, for the eggwash
Icing sugar, to serve

Mix all the ingredients together in a bowl, cover and leave to macerate overnight. Use as pie filling. Line mince pies patty tins or small tartlet moulds with the pastry. Place one and a half teaspoon of mincemeat and cover with a pastry disk. Press on the edges to seal. Prick the center of the mince pies with a small stick. Brush the pies with a beaten egg. Bake for 18 minutes, or until pies are golden brown. Leave to cool 5 minutes one pastry rack before unmoulding. Sprinkle with icing sugar. Serve with heavy cream and redcurrants.

Lavender honey nougat

180 g/ ¾ cup lavender honey
300 g/ 1 ½ cup granulated sugar
2 tbsp water
1 egg white
200 g/ 1 ½ cup mix of unsalted pistachios, almonds, hazelnuts and finely chopped dried apricots
½ tsp vanilla essence

You will need a candy thermometer.

Note: I used a small mix of cornflour and icing sugar and lightly sprinkled on the parchment paper to avoid stickiness.

Preheat the oven to 160°C/ 320 F

Prepare a pan (I used a 23cm/ 9-inch silicone round pan) – lightly oil the pan with olive oil or cooking spray. Roast the almonds and pistachios in a 160°C/320 F oven for 10 to 15 minutes. Make sure to shake the pan once in a while to prevent the nuts from burning. Set aside.(tip: rub the nuts in the hands when they have cooled down to get rid of excess peelings). Combine the lavender honey, sugar and water in a saucepan and heat on a low heat until melted, stirring occasionally. Once melted, increase the heat slightly until the temperature of the mixture reaches 140°C, turning into a light golden thick syrup. Immediately take off the heat. In a large bowl, whisk the egg white until stiff, and slowly add the honey/sugar syrup while whisking. Be very careful to add slowly, as it is very hot. Continue to whisk until the mixture is very thick, for about 6 to 8 minutes. Fold in the mixed nuts and apricots. Pour the nougat mixture in the prepared pan. (I did not use wafer paper to line the top or bottom of the pan, that is why I used a silicone mould to facilitate the unmoulding step. You can find wafer paper in specialized baking/kitchen stores.) Smooth the mixture with a spatula. Leave the nougat to set, uncovered, for at least 3 to 4 hours in a cool and dry environment. Unmould the nougat on a parchment paper covered cutting board and cut desired chunks.

When is the right moment to buy a Christmas tree? Too early and the needles will have fallen by New Year’s, too late and you miss out on what could have been an extra week of pine scented Christmas beauty. Over the years I’ve figured that around the 10th is a good moment but my impatient heart stole a march on reason last week when the kids had a day off school, a Friday no less. That was it for me, a day off in December simply calls for getting a tree and cooking up a festive lunch.

So we got in the car and went on a tree hunt, or more precisely of places that sell trees. Louise dressed up for the occasion, as she always does, the rest of us came as we were. On our way to finding “our tree” we drove past countless other trees, some with leaves, some bare, a few evergreen Magnolias and my favorite, the ones that have lost their own leaves but are draped in the most beautiful green ivy dresses that would put any couturier to shame. The most curious trees this time of year, I find, are the pomegranate and khaki trees, very Tim Burton-esque, with no leaves and curious delicious fruit that just hang their defying, it seems, the laws of nature. The leaves are long gone but the fruit linger on.

In our family we have different philosophies on how to choose a tree. The kids, predictably want the biggest one (they won last year), Oddur, my husband, wants the first decent tree we’ll find, as if chance had chosen it for us. I am the difficult one, I want the tree that speaks to me, that gives me a sign, the one that says “Let me be your tree”. Our first stop was the closest one, a little “jardinerie” near our home. Last year we arrived one minute too late and they slammed the door in our faces. But we are not holding grudges. After a while of examining the trees, my husband had found his, my kids were asking if there was anything “much bigger”. The man asked “what, do you live in a palace?” The kids had an empty look on their faces as if whether the tree would fit into the house or let alone the car had nothing to do with anything.

I was getting restless, ready to leave and continue my search when a cat (I am very fond of cats) appeared from under a tree. And not just any cat. A black, three-legged cat with a red ribbon around his neck. He gave me a funny look and just sat there for a while as if to say “do I have to spell it out for you lady – don’t you see this is the best tree, and I’m a specialist.” So that was our tree. And the cat was right, it’s a nice, well-balanced, perfectly sized tree. As for the cat he appeared at the jardinerie some 6 years ago with 3 legs and an open heart. Now he’s an expert on all things green.

Back home we gave the speech we always give. “Don’t be too excited, be careful with the ornaments, they are very precious”. Then the kids get too excited and one of the ornaments breaks. Then they freeze, look at their father with fear in the faces. But because it’s a special occasion we will let them off lightly and so it goes. Same thing every year, it really has become a Christmas ritual. This year it was a guitar that broke. I can just imagine all the ornaments in the attic, in the moments before we take them out, giving each other a solemn look and thinking “This is our moment guys” – but also “who is it going to be this year”? We keep all the broken ones though, they are quite lovely in their imperfection and I suppose souvenirs of good times.
We listened to Christmas music, we had port and cheese, a fabulous beetroot salad with the crispiest Bigorre black pig slithers, a roast duck with a very satisfying stuffing and a heavenly port gravy, wine from Pessac. And to finish this sumptuous lunch, a heavenly vanilla crème de marrons (vanilla chestnut cream) mousse.
A good time was had by all.

Beetroot & Jerusalem artichoke salad
serves 4

2 large beetroot peeled & cooked
6 small Jerusalem artichokes (topinambours), peeled
½ head of red cabbage
2 shallots, sliced
A few sprigs of chives, finely chopped
4 slices Bigorre black pig bacon, finely sliced (alternatively, if you can’t find this variety, choose a good-quality bacon)
Olive oil
Balsamic vinegar
Coarse sea-salt & black pepper

Slice the beetroot (peeled and cooked) into ¼ inch slices.
Place the ‘Bigorre’ bacon slices on a frying pan, pre-heated on a medium heat. Cook on both sides until crispy and golden. Set aside on kitchen paper to absorb excess fat.
Pre-cook the Jerusalem artichokes in salted boiling water and 1 teaspoon of bicarbonate of soda (a little trick I learnt to ease digestion) for 10 minutes. Drain and set aside. Slice into rondelles.
Slice the red cabbage finely and place in a bowl. Season with salt and pepper and drizzle with 1 tablespoon of olive oil and a 2-3 teaspoons of balsamic vinegar. Set aside.
Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a pan on a medium heat. Cook shallots for 3 to 4 minutes, add the Jerusalem artichoke slices and cook for a few minutes on each side until slightly golden. You want to keep them al dente. Set aside.
In the same pan, add a little bit of olive oil and gently cook the beetroot slices on both sides for 2 minutes.
Place the beetroot slices on a plate, add the Jerusalem artichokes and shallots. Scatter the red cabbage all over, sprinkle finely chopped chives and place the slice of fried ‘Noir de Bigorre’ bacon (or a lovely piece of bacon) on top. Just before serving, drizzle a few drops of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Season to taste.

Roast duck with apples & port gravy
serves 4

1 duck, approximately 4.5 pounds/ 2 kg
1 kg/ 2.2 pounds approx. apples, peeled, cored and halved
120 ml/ ½ cup port
400 ml chicken stock
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
A few sprigs if thyme
Coarse sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper
25 g/ 2 ½ tablespoons plain flour
Olive oil

For the stuffing:
2 apples, peeled and cubed
A handful of chopped walnuts
1 onion, sliced finely
1 clove garlic, sliced finely
2 tablespoons port

Preheat the oven to 350°F/ 180°C.

Rub the duck with coarse sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper, as well as inside the duck’s cavity.
Prepare the stuffing:
Peel and slice two apples into cubes. Slice the onions, garlic and coarsely chop the walnuts. Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil and 1 tablespoon of butter in a frying pan on a medium heat, cook the onions for 3 minutes, add the apples, garlic and walnuts and continue to cook for 3-4 minutes. Season with salt & pepper. Add 2 tablespoons of port, reduce for 2 minutes and set aside to cool for 5 minutes.
Insert the stuffing in the duck’s cavity, place the duck in a roasting pan, drizzle 2 tablespoons of olive oil and rub all over. Transfer to the preheated oven for about and 1 hour and 45 minutes (depending on your preferred cuisson). Turn the duck mid-way for 30 minutes, then turn it back breast and legs up and add the halved apples. Drizzle the duck and apples a few times with the juices.
Spoon all the juices, (discarding excess fat) from the roasting pan and place in a saucepan on a medium heat. Whisk in the chicken stock, flour, thyme and port and cook until sauce reduces and thickens to a thick gravy, about 20 to 25 minutes. Add 2 tablespoons butter towards the end and stir until melted.
Remove the duck from the oven and let it sit for 15 minutes before carving. Serve with the apples and port gravy.

Chestnut vanilla cream mousse with marrons glacés and chocolate
serves 6

This mousse, so heavenly, so creamy yet light, so nutty, something straight out of my childhood, a vanilla crème de marrons (vanilla chestnut cream) mousse, with chunks of marrons glacés & chocolate flakes. Since I was a child, I’ve had a particular love for vanilla chestnut cream. I always had a small tube in my schoolbag, and it was my sweet escape!

1 ½ gelatin sheet (approx 3 g)/ feuille de gelatine, soaked in cold water
280 g/ 10 ounces crème de marrons/ vanilla chestnut cream
200 ml/ ¾ cup + 1 tablespoon heavy cream/ crème liquide entère
4 marrons glacé/sugar-glazed chestnuts, chopped into small chunks
50 g/ 2 ounces black chocolate/ chocolate noir, coarsely grated

Soak the gelatin sheet in a bowl of cold water for a few minutes, until soft. Heat the chestnut cream in a saucepan on a low heat until the cream is warm, stirring constantly. Add the gelatin sheet until completely melted. Stir until smooth and set aside until completely cooled.
In a large glass bowl, whisk the cream (with electric whisks on a high-speed) until stiff, and gently combine the chestnut cream, lowering the speed until the mixture is blended. Cover the bowl with cling film and set aside in the refrigerator (or a cool environment) for at least 30 minutes. Just before serving, scatter the marrons glacés and chocolate flakes.

If Sunday afternoon had been a Grimm’s adventure this is what would have happened: A cunning sorceress (me) would have seduced a tall, dark-haired (read grey) and gullible man (my husband) into gathering some delicious fruits and nuts and bringing them to her house in the forest. She would have asked him to crack open all the nuts and almonds and in return she would promise to share with him the sinfully good chocolate mendiants she was planning to make. When the job was done and while melting the chocolate she would put on her best smile and offer the man a beautiful country bread tartine with melted raclette cheese, walnuts … and black radishes. The man would gayfully accept, never taking his eye of the chocolate pot on the stove. “What a treat” he would think, to be invited for this lovely meal and how he was looking forward to the irresistible mendiants – the whole forest was talking about them. Little would he know that black radishes can make the strongest men fall asleep and as soon as he had finished the bread with a bit of wine, he was off to dreamland. Then the devilishly cute and mischievous children of the sorceress would appear from the woodworks, help their mother make the mendiants and together they would feast on every last crumb of chocolates and sweets. The man would awake in the forest, feeling lost yet somewhat satisfied for it was a very good tartine. Then he would remember the mendiants he had been coveting and feel a little sad not having had any. But because we don’t want our tale to be too dark, and because this is rather nice sorceress, he would feel a little something in his coat pocket, two mendiants, one with fruits and nuts, the other with coconut flakes and pomegranates. He would feel a little cheated but he would have a big smile on his face.

My son Hudson and I were recently at the market. As usual we visited the stall of our good friends, the Aubert’s, my favorite organic farmers in Médoc. There was so much to choose from, gone are the tomatoes and plums but instead we have roots and radishes, turnips, parsnips and beets. A fellow client joined me in admiring the black radishes. “Aren’t they mysterious” I said. “Well, I suppose” he said “but I buy them because they make me go to sleep”. “I don’t like drugs and medicine so I use herbs instead. Black radishes are my drug of choice”. Afterwards he assured me he wasn’t joking, black radishes really make you sleep. Hudsons’s eyes and ears were on fire. He was completely enchanted by this. Over the weekend I caught him looking at the radishes with respect and admiration. He picked them up carefully, observed them, even sniffed them a little. This sleeping theory had to be tested, just not on him!

On Sunday I woke with an idea in my head. Mendiants! They’re such a French classic and my treat of choice when the weather gets colder. They are such an ideal mix of irresistible sweetness yet filled with goodness. My husband was kind enough to fetch me some fruits and nuts (and yes he did open them too as did the man in the adventure). It all looked so beautiful, like gems on the working table of a master jeweller, little raisin rubies, pearls of almonds, all of them ready to be inserted into a little masterpiece.

It was then that Hudson came to me “Mom, I think we should give daddy some of the radishes and see if he falls asleep” he said with a big cheeky smile. “Then we can have all the chocolate mendiants ourselves”. We did test the theory but unlike in the “Grimm’s Adventure”, the man didn’t fall asleep. He just wanted another tartine and then another, until he was so full he couldn’t have any mendiants. I suppose some people like savory and some like sweet.
I have to confess, I like it all!

Mendiants

(makes approximately about 15 mendiants)

230 g/ 8 ounces good-quality black chocolate
A small mix of pistachios, almonds, hazelnuts, dark & golden raisins, dried apricots, dried figs.

Break the chocolate in pieces and place in a heat-proof bowl. Melt the chocolate ‘au bain-marie’ – Place the bowl over a pan of simmering water on a low heat. Gently stir until the chocolate is glossy and melted. Take off the heat and set aside for a few minutes.

Prepare sheets of parchment paper on a flat surface or large tray.

Drop a small teaspoon of melted chocolate onto parchment paper, about 5 cm width. You want to create pretty little disks. It is preferable to drop about 6 to eight disks at a time, so you can have adequate time to place the toppings.

Decorate with almonds, apricots (or figs), raisins, and hazelnuts/ pistachios for classic mendiants. Then you can let your imagination run wild. I used pomegranate seeds and dried coconut for the other disks.

Leave the mendiants to set and harden for about 10 to fifteen minutes in a cool room. Gently lift them off the parchment paper and place on a serving plate.

Grilled Raclette tartines with black radish, walnuts and chives

This is a simple delicious snack, a mixture of wonderful flavours and very nutritious. I just love the combination of the rich melted cheese, the crunchy walnuts and radishes.

2 black radishes, sliced finely
2-3 slices of Raclette cheese (alternatively Cheddar or Gruyère) per slice of bread
A few sprigs of chives, finely chopped
A few walnut kernels, broken into pieces
A few slices of good quality rustic bread (pain de campagne, pain Poilâne)

Place 2-3 slices of Raclette cheese (depending on bread size) on top of sliced bread and place under the grill for 3 to 5 minutes, or until bubbly and golden. Place slices of black radish on top, sprinkle walnuts and chives. Serve immediately.

More than anything this is the story of a soup. But it has other characters. A sleeping lion, a few roses stubbornly refusing to go to bed, delicious quails, beautiful pears, a curious château and, of course, a dog. Let me take you back to last Sunday evening. It was cold and grey and humid. The kids were taking their baths and preparing their schoolbags for the week. I checked the weather forecast for Monday. It said, cold and grey and humid. As I’ve been a bit run down with a cold of my own I was determined to plan ahead and avoid a murky start to the week. I thought of my grandmother, what would she have done? Well, she would probably have made her vegetable soup, the one that was always brewing on her stove, throughout winter (and most of summer too, but in a lighter version – and sometimes with little alphabet pasta just for me), so simple and easy to make, so comforting and healthy. Most importantly it’s a soup that’s better the next day, so after the kids fell asleep I went back to the kitchen and started chopping.

I probably wouldn’t have thought of making that soup if we hadn’t taken friends recently to one of our favorite restaurants in Médoc, the Lion d’Or in Arcins, just a few miles from the storied Margaux. It’s such a classic place, you might have driven through Médoc fifty years ago and found a place just like it. It’s like a luxury canteen where wine barons bring their own wine and enjoy it with the menu of the day, bottles after bottles of the most prestigious wines in France. The Lion d’Or means “The gold lion” but Louise, who was very little when we started going there, always called it the Lion dormir, which means “The sleeping lion”. And now we just call it that. Somehow it really captures the spirit of the place, not quite a golden lion, but a calm, sleepy lion but with enough fire in it’s belly to roar if you step on its toes. And some people have, I’ve heard stories. So we try to treat it with respect. On that last visit I had the simplest but most delicious vegetable soup. It was just like my grandmother’s and reminded me, having been adventurous in the kitchen lately, that sometimes the best things are the simple things you grow up with. Next on the menu were some pigeon with foie gras and armagnac, then some cheese and canelés. It was the most satisfying restaurant experience I’ve had for a long time – when you are always cooking for others it’s such a nice change to sit back and be waited on. Not least when the food is brought to your table by a waiterly waiter who looks like Adrien Brody’s brother and serves every plate with a smile on his face.

Monday morning arrived, grey and cold as promised. I checked my soup, it had the scent of a very satisfying lunch and there would be enough for everyone at dinner too. That’s when I started thinking of the sleeping lion and those pigeons. I wanted them too. “Are you busy?” I asked my husband as he was knee-deep in dog trouble. His expression said “sort of ” but when I mentioned the pigeon he gave me an approving look and said “give me five minutes to lock up the beasts”. One of them, Squiffy, just refused to come in. He’s a year old now, a teenager, and is going through a rebellious face. He would go in the car, but not the house, so he came too. Fox terriers have a way of getting what they want. Sadly the butcher had no pigeon but he had the most tempting quails and I decided to improvise. The whole thing was improvised anyway, I would never have the courage to disturb a sleeping lion, just to ask for a recipe.

If our life here in Médoc has a thread running through it, that thread must be a tangled web of curious backroads and strange places. A different route means new discoveries, a turn in the road a new place to be found. Last Monday we took a different way back home from the butcher, just for the sake of it. We were dying for a walk somewhere in a vineyard, and Squiffy was eagerly scratching the car windows. A château caught our eye, the vineyards so golden and majestic magnolia trees all too inviting. We drove up through the gate and were greeted by a handful of pink roses that are defying late autumn and are refusing “to go gentle into that good night” This simply needed to be photographed. “I’ll be quick”, Oddur said. I thought it was more proper to get permission. We found a lady in a nearby house. Her husband’s family owns the Château and as they are renovating it they live in a lovely cottage next door. We wanted to buy some wine and she took us on a tour of the castle. It’s such an experience to walk through the grand halls of buildings like this, every room tells a story, and in this case, one room told the story of a previous owner’s taste for seventies decadence. The wine comes in an orange labelled bottle, it’s called château Escot, and we were very happy with it.
I love coming back home from these trips, with bread and wine and something wonderful to cook. It feels so cozy in winter to nest up in the house, light a fire, and play around in the kitchen. We had bought some pretty pears at the market on Saturday and even as I was peeling them I wasn’t sure what to make of them. Something with chocolate or a pear tart? In the end the simplicity of the soup inspired my to continue with that theme and just fry them on a pan with some crushed almonds. With some salted butter caramel they turned out just right. Actually, it was so good, I think this is my favourite pear dessert!

The abundance of summer is glorious, a wall covered with hundreds of roses, crates of fresh peaches or plums. But a satisfying meal in late autumn is like the last rose of summer – it’s on cold days that a little beauty is most needed.

Vegetable potage

(serves 4-6)

Note: I usually make this soup in the evening, and leave to rest overnight until the next day for lunch. Or you can make it in the morning if you prefer to serve it for dinner.

3 medium-sized carrots, peeled and chopped into rounds
2 medium-sized potatoes, peeled & diced
1 leek (white part), chopped into rounds
1 celery, sliced
1/2 head of Savoy cabbage, coarsely chopped
2 sprigs of thyme
1 liter/ 4 cups water (or vegetable stock if you prefer)
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons butter
Salt and black pepper

Slice carrots, potatoes, leek and celery. In a large pot, heat olive oil and cook all the vegetables and thyme (except for the Savoy cabbage) for 3 minutes on a medium heat. Season with salt and pepper. Add water and bring to a boil. Add Savoy cabbage and continue to cook on a medium heat for 30 minutes. Leave to rest for at least 6 hours, or preferably overnight. Reheat the soup, and add 2 tablespoons butter just before serving. Season to your taste. Serve with toasted baguette and butter.

Quails with foie gras and armagnac sauce

(serves 4)

Note: If you don’t have Armagnac, I would suggest red wine, it’s equally delicious!

Breasts and legs of 4 quails
4 small foie gras slices (optional)
100 ml chicken stock
1 tablespoon Armagnac
2 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
A few sprigs of chives, finely chopped

Preheat the oven to 210°C/ 410 F

Slice the quails breasts and legs.
In a sauté pan, heat olive oil and 1 tablespoon of butter until sizzling on a medium heat. Season breasts and legs with salt and pepper. Place the breasts (skin down) and legs and cook for 3 minutes on each side, until golden. Place in an oven-proof dish and transfer to oven for a few minutes, while you prepare the sauce.
In the same sauté pan, add the chicken stock, bring to a soft boil and add the Armagnac. Reduce for 3 minutes, until sauce is glossy and thick. Season with salt and pepper. Add a tablespoon of butter and stir until melted. Set sauce aside in a small bowl.

Heat sauté pan again on a high heat and cook the foie gras slices 10 to 15 seconds on each side, until golden.

Place quail and foie gras on a serving plate, drizzle Armagnac sauce all over and sprinkle with finely chopped chives. Season with salt and pepper.

Pumpkin, Jerusalem artichoke and potato mash

250 g/ 1/2 pound pumpkin, peeled & coarsely chopped
4-5 Jerusalem artichokes, peeled and sliced
4 medium potatoes, peeled and chopped
1-2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tsp salt

Cook vegetables in boiling salted water for 15-20 minutes, or until tender. Drain, mash vegetables with a potato masher, return pan on a medium heat and stir mash for 2 minutes to ‘dry’ it out slightly (pumpkin can retain a lot of water). Add butter and olive oil. Season with salt.

Pears with almonds and salted butter caramel

(serves 4-6)

4 pears (for this recipe I used William pears), cut into quarters
60 g coarsely chopped almonds
30 g salted butter

In a sauté pan, melt the butter on a medium heat. When the butter starts to slightly sizzle, sauté the pears on each side until golden, about 4-5 minutes. Add the almonds mid-way and continue to cook for 2-3 minutes, until almonds are golden.

For the salted-butter caramel sauce

100 g/ 1/2 cup granulated sugar
120 ml/ 1/2 cup cream (slightly warmed)
50 g/ 3 tbsp salted butter (at room temperature)
Melt the sugar in a saucepan on a medium heat. Do not stir until it has nearly all melted (it should be golden/amber-colored).
Take away from the heat, stir with a wooden spoon and gently pour the cream. Stir well, add butter, continue to stir.

Return to a low heat for 5-10 seconds , stirring constantly. If there are sugar lumps, continue stirring until it melts. Leave to cool.

To serve.
Place pears on a plate, scatter the almonds and drizzle the caramel. Serve immediately while warm.

It’s November again, and predictably the rain has started. These day Médoc is damp and chilly, the frogs are having a ball and I deal with it all by making fires. I love lighting a fire, then I make myself a strong cup of tea and let the flames warm me up as I sit on a little chair as close to the fireplace as safety allows. My husband says that I look Whistler’s mother during those moments, I think it’s his way of saying that I look like a granny. I don’t mind that, I feel that we are all several people, I certainly have a little girl in me still, and an old granny. We all get along fine.

We’ve had some spicy food lately, nice Indian dishes that go very well with rain. So does tea & biscuits, most English food I suppose, it has to. Yesterday morning I went to the market and came home with beautiful veal chops. I had no special plans for them, they just were the most tempting meat at the butcher’s. We also got a bunch of vegetables, a full bag of fresh aïl rose (the most beautiful pink garlic), a bit of cheese. But there was no revelation. I still didn’t know what to cook. My mind kept asking “what goes well with rain?”

For lunch we had a bit of everything, some charcuterie, nice bread, a warm soup. Then the forest beckoned. Officially it was just a little Sunday stroll but we all were wondering if we could find some girolles. This fall we’ve had more girolles than cèpes and we heard it through the grapevine that not too far from us, where there is an ostrich farm, there were plenty of girolles. We parked the car next to the farm, Oddur lifted the kids up so they could take a peak over the fence, where the birds live. Then we found a little road and headed down on foot. I guess there was a time in history when four people could walk down a path in the forest and be themselves but I at least can not be in such a situation without feeling that I am in Oz. I used to be Dorothy but now Louise has claimed that part, with her red boots and all. Mia, with her thick mane must be the lion and Hudson the tin man … which leaves me with the scarecrow. My husband, sneaking around with his dogs and camera, ever-present – never seen, would be the wizard.

As we walked further down the path things got darker, the forest thicker. Everything was so damp and slippery, fallen leaves everywhere, acorns and all sorts of mushrooms. So wild that it made me think of another reference. Maybe we weren’t in Oz, maybe we were simply taking a “walk on the wild side”. Like many others we’ve been listening to a lot of Lou Reed lately. Velvet Underground is high on my list of musical favorites – “it’s some kinda love”. We found no girolles, not one, but on the way home it struck me that a charlotte aux pommes (apple charlotte) would go perfectly well with rain. I have so many apples and couldn’t wait to get started. But what about the veal chops? I realized they would have been smashing with some girolles, I thought of the sauce I would have made, with wine, the juices of the mushrooms, oh what a shame.

Mia kept talking about this place near our house where she had once found girolles. “Maybe we can go there” she said with a hopeful look in her thick French accent. I was already out of the car, but I had a feeling that Oddur would respond to her call to arms. And he drafted the two younger soldiers who had really had enough and just wanted to go in and play. I used the time well, made the apple charlotte (the granniest cake of all), lit a fire. An hour later they came back with a full basket, Mia had been right. You should always listen to children.

When I sat at the dinner table later that evening, the veal chops and girolles so delicious and well suited to the weather, everybody’s face beaming with delight and satisfaction (well apart from Louise and Hudson quarreling about who found more girolles) I thought to myself, even in the rain this was such a … perfect day, I’m glad I spent it this way.

Veal chops with girolles mushrooms

(serves 2)

2 good-quality veal chops
500 g/ 1 pound fresh girolles (chanterelles) mushrooms
1 clove garlic, sliced finely
A few sprigs of parsley, finely chopped
80 ml/ 1/3 cup white wine
2-3 tablespoons duck fat (alternatively you can use olive oil or butter, or both)
2-3 teaspoons butter
Coarse sea-salt & black pepper

Clean the mushrooms and pat dry gently.
Season the veal chops with coarse sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper.
Heat a tablespoon (or two) of duck fat in a large frying pan and sauté the girolles mushrooms on a high heat for a 4-5 minutes. Add the garlic and parsley a few minutes towards the end. Set aside and reserve all the liquid from the mushrooms.
In the same pan, heat one to two tablespoons of duck fat on a medium to high heat and sauté the veal chops on both sides until golden brown, about 3 minutes on each side or until desired cuisson. When the veal is just about ready, pour the reserved mushrooms liquid, reduce for a few seconds, then add the wine and 2 teaspoons of butter. Let the sauce reduce for about a minute, season accordingly. Return the girolles mushrooms to the pan for a few seconds. Serve immediately.

Apple charlotte

700 g/ 1 & 1/2 pound apples, peeled and cored
80 g/ 1/3 cup butter + 60 g/ 1/4 cup for the brioche bread
6 to 8 slices of brioche bread
5 tablespoons brown sugar
1/2 vanilla pod, split lengthwise
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
3 tablespoons calvados (optional)

Preheat the oven to 180°C/ 350 F.

Peel & core the apples, cut them in quarters. In a large skillet, melt 80 g butter, add the apples, cinnamon, sugar and vanilla beans. Cook for 10 to 15 minutes, until the apples are golden on both sides. Add the calvados and reduce for 2 minutes.
Line a charlotte mold with butter. Cut the crust off the brioche bread. Slice the bread into neat rectangles.
Melt 60 g of the remaining butter and brush each bread slices on both sides. Heat a frying pan on a medium heat and place the buttered bread slices for a few second son each side until golden. Set aside. Line the charlotte mold with the triangles in the base, then with the rectangle slices on the sides. Try to arrange neatly so there is not gap in-between each slices.
Fill the mold with the apples (saves a few slices if you wish to decorate the top later), seal with a few slices of remaining buttered bread slices.
Prepare a bain-marie. Place the charlotte mold in the center of a large and deep oven-proof pan, pour boiling hot water until it reaches halfway up the mold. Cook in the oven for 30 minutes. Leave to set for 10 minutes before unmoulding. Serve with a crème anglaise.

Note: You can decorate the top of the apple charlotte with a few slices of apples.

Crème Anglaise (custard cream)

300 ml/ 1 & 1/4 cup milk
50 g/ 1/4 cup sugar
1/2 vanilla pod, split lengthwise
3 egg yolks

In a saucepan, heat the milk, vanilla beans and sugar until it reaches a soft boil.
In the meantime, whisk 3 egg yolks in a medium-sized bowl. Pour the milk in the egg yolk bowl, whisking continuously to avoid curdling. Pour the mixture back in the saucepan, set the heat to low and whisk until the sauce thickens to a custard cream.

Once upon a time there was a prince in Médoc. He was actually a marquis but as he owned so many châteaux (all the best ones) king Louis XV declared him, “Prince of the vines”. In those days my favorite Médoc village, Saint-Estèphe, was known as Calon and the “prince” once famously declared “I make wine at Lafite and Latour (the most famous wines in the world) but my heart belongs to Calon. He was referring to his estate in Saint-Estèphe, Calon-Ségur, a property he aquired by marriage and as he was Nicolas-Alexandre de Ségur he added his name to it. Because of his famous words they also added a heart to the label on the bottle, a revolutionary gesture and in hindsight, quite modern. The morale of the story is: Design something revolutionary and wonderful, give it a few hundred years and everyone will love it.

I was quite familiar with Calon-Ségur, but I might never have heard the story of the prince had my husband not been commissioned by an agency in Bordeaux to shoot the harvest for the château. It was all very mysterious, they asked him to photograph a château but wouldn’t say which one. Then one day he drove off into the uncertainty and came back beaming – he too loves Saint-Estèphe. The job took a few days and on the last one he asked me to come along and bring the kids. What can I say, it was lovely. I so enjoyed our moments there, walking around the manicured gardens, cutting a few grapes. Unfortunately the yield is not so high this year, down 50% from a normal year. It all comes down to a few precious days in June when the weather was unkind to little grapes. I hope the ones that survived will be all the better for it. We had a taste of the ’89 – to think I was only 16 when that wine was bottled. Was I ever 16? Well I won’t get into that.

On our way home we drove past one of those beautiful “châteaux in ruin” that are practically all over Médoc. I think they put them there so we mortals can dream about restoring them and throw lavish parties there and then we too would put hearts on the bottles. Talking of hearts and what they mean, we had some lovely people over this month. Michael Graydon and Nikole Herriott. I was filming my show and finishing my book – (which explains the lack of blog activity. There will be none of that now, I’ve promised myself, “a blog post every week” – it really is my favorite thing.) Anyway it was so nice to have them over, sometimes you just know you will “click” with people and then you do. They too loved that château in ruins and I think it made them dream. From now on we will call this château “Herriott Graydon House”. Nikole also had her eye on a fox terrier puppy, our last one, called “Cornichon”. All dogs should be named after food.

Then we had a quick stop in Vertheuil, another favorite pitstop in Médoc, where they have an old boulangerie that’s transformed itself into a B&B with a crèperie on the side. The créperie was closed but the little shop that sells … well everything, was open so we had some chips instead. A guilty little pleasure. Then we visited the church for atonement.

Médoc is all about wine and the harvest season is the main event. If wine was football, this recent period would be the world cup. So it’s impossible not to cook something inspired by the “vendanges”. Grapes, apples, chestnuts. These are the main players in the markets these days. We’ve had beautiful harvest lunches and dinners with our friends Florence and Fabien at Château Tour Haut-Caussan (you may remember him from the winemaker’s lunch post) My mother in law says he’s the best guy in Médoc and she may be right. This week we had a harvest lunch by ourselves, all the things that have inspired me in the last few weeks. All the flavors that I have yearned for. It had to be apples, it had to be grapes, so I worked around that. But I felt something was missing. A showstopper, a special appearance. I went to the market with a clear head and an open heart – something would speak to me, I just didn’t know what. And there it was, a mountain of gold, the one and only Mont D’Or. A treasure of France and my very favorite cheese. Now imagine this. You pierce a hole in it, fill it with garlic and wine and serve it with the most delicious potatoes. When you pair this with sausages baked with grapes in apples your are, maybe not in heaven but you are in Médoc.

MY heart belongs to Médoc.

p.s. A tree just at the edge where the Pauillac vineyards meet the ones from Saint-Estèphe, is lovingly referred to by my family as the “Tim Burton tree”. The Mont D’Or in this post may not be a brie but the combination of cheese + tree brings to mind a poem by Tim Burton that always puts a smile on my face:

Brie Boy

Brie Boy had a dream he had only had twice,
that his full, round head was only a slice.

The other children never let Brie Boy play …
… but at least he went well with a nice Chardonnay

Vendanges sausages/ Harvest sausages
8 good-quality pork sausages (or chicken)
1 large onion
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 apples, peeled and cut into large chunks
A few sprigs of thyme
A bunch of grapes
30 ml/ 2 tablespoons olive oil
250 ml/1 cup red wine
Salt & freshly ground black pepper

Preheat oven to 180°C/350°F

Heat olive oil in a frying pan and cook onions for 5 minutes on a medium heat. Add 2 tablespoons of butter and the apples, toss them in the onions for a minutes. Set aside.
In a large oven-proof roasting pan, crush the grapes lightly with the palm of you hands. Add the onions and apples, the sprigs of thyme and scatter the sausages. Season lightly with salt & pepper, pour 250ml/ 1 cup of red wine.
Transfer dish to the oven and bake for about 50 to 55 minutes, until the sausages are cooked through and the sauce is thick and glossy.

Mont d’Or and almond potatoes

1 Mont d’Or cheese
45 ml/ 3 tablespoons white wine
1 garlic clove, finely sliced

Preheat oven 190°C/ 375°F

Wrap the edges of the Mont d’or container with aluminium foil. With a knife, dig a small hole (remove about one teaspoon or so of cheese), gently stir the cheese inside to allow the wine and garlic to go through.
Pour wine and stuff the garlic in the hole. Place the cheese in a preheated oven for about 25 to 30 minutes, until melted and slightly sizzling.

Almond potatoes

900 g/ 2 pounds potatoes
1 onion, chopped finely
45 ml/ 3 tablespoons olive oil
50 g/ 1/3 cup ground almonds
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Hash the onions very small. Peel and slice potatoes into rondelles, about ½ cm thick. Heat olive oil in a large frying pan, fry the onions for 5 minutes, then add the potatoes and continue frying for 2-3 minutes. Cover the potatoes with just enough water to cover them, bring to a boil and cover. Cook for 15 minutes until cooked through.
Add 50 g/ 1/3 cup of ground almonds, toss the potatoes gently.
Serve immediately as a side dish, along with the melted Mont d’Or. Generously drizzle the melted Mont d’or on the potatoes. Serve with the sausages.

Baked apples with almond cream

1&1/2 tablespoon honey
90 g/ 3/4 cup ground almonds
1 egg yolk
70 g + 20 g/ 1/3 cup + 1&1/2 tbsp (for garnishing) salted butter, at room temperature
6 apples (medium to small-sized)

Preheat oven to 180°C/350°F.

Rinse apples and pat dry. Cut the top ‘hat’ off the apples and set aside. Core apples (with the help of an apple corer). Place apples in an oven-proof dish.
In a medium-sized bowl, mix ground almonds, egg yolk, butter and honey together. Use a spoon and gently place mixture inside the apples. Spoon more mixture on top of apples and place the top hat on top. Dot each apples with butter and transfer baking dish to a preheated oven 180°C/350°F. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until apples are tender and golden. Serve immediately.

Chestnut and black chocolate chunk muffins

250 g/ 2 cups plain four, sifted
350 g/ 12 ounces puréed chestnuts
120 ml/ 1/2 cup milk
90 g/ 1/3 cup + 1 tbsp unsalted butter, melted and at room temperature
A pinch of ground nutmeg
100 g/ 1/2 cup brown sugar
150 g/1/3 pound black chocolate – cut into small chunks
12 g/ 1 1/2 tsp baking powder
A pinch of salt
2 eggs
(makes about 8 large muffins)

Preheat the oven to180°C/ 350°F.

Cook the chestnuts in large pot of boiling water for 45 minutes. Peel the chestnuts and mash them with a vegetable masher or a food processor.
In a large bowl mix flour, baking powder, brown sugar, nutmeg and salt together. Add the puréed chestnuts, milk and eggs. Mix well. Stir in the melted butter. Add the chocolate chunks.
Cut little squares of parchment paper, large enough to fill your muffin mould. Spoon batter in each paper-lined muffin mould to 3/4 full.
Bake muffins in a preheated oven 180°C/350°F for 25-30 minutes, or until puffy and golden brown. Leave to cool on a pastry rack for 10 minutes before serving.

“Don’t tell my husband”, Madame Petit said, with a hesitant smile, “Don’t tell him about your recipe”. I thought I knew what she meant, my recipe sounded so tempting that her husband would request it immediately and perhaps his wife had other plans for the evening. But that was not it. It was the opposite, my recipe had too many herbs, too much garlic. He wouldn’t hear of it. After all a man who has dedicated his life to raising the best chicken in the region (my words not theirs) does not see the need for enhancement or improvement. What you get is what you get. A fantastic tasting bird that only needs a pinch of salt, a dash of pepper. Meat that rivals the best steak, the finest piece of pork.

We had visited Michel and Martine Petit’s farm to buy a quality chicken for my crème fraîche and herb roast chicken recipe, one that is destined for my upcoming book and needs to be practiced to perfection first, with the best available produce. The Vertessec poultry farm is stretched along the route de Bordeaux in Avensac, hundreds of birds roaming free in beautiful pastures. We visit Bordeaux quite regularly and each time I look with admiration at the farm, try to get a peek at the lovely farmhouse tucked in amongst the trees. I always make a mental note to stop there next time but somehow we’ve missed the opening hours every time (we tend to linger too long in Bordeaux) or I’ve not had the time (picking up kids from school, worrying about home alone dogs – that sort of thing). I’ve tasted their birds at friends houses, been amazed and now that we were making a book it was the perfect excuse for a visit.

I had built up expectations, the farm would be lovely, the people friendly, the chicken heavenly. It was all that and better. Beautiful old-fashioned store that sells pumpkins, eggs, all sorts of chicken sausages and patés. Even local wine and jams. And the birds, so fresh, so big and majestic.
Now back to the conversation. “It’s not that my husband doesn’t like herbs or such but our Faverole chicken, simply doesn’t need it”, she continued. That’s when Michel, the husband, a proud looking, fit man in shiny boots arrived. He listened to us discuss recipes, without any judgement, and then offered to show us the farm. Gaïa loved the little baby chicks and it was a pleasure to see all the birds running around freely – just like it should be and such a nice contrast to all the horrifying reports we’ve had in recent years of poultry production around the world.

The funniest moments were with Gertrud, our German Pointer, a bird dog she was simply shivering with anticipation and gave me a look regularly that seemed to say “Is it some sort of joke to bring me here, it’s like bringing a kid to Disneyland and then tell them they can’t go on any rides”. Let’s just say that I didn’t let her off the leash.

Michel spoke at length about his passion for poultry, the different types of birds he breeds, the “normal” ones that can be cooked anyway you like and the Faverole (Poularde cousine Faverole croisée) that is so tasty that it would be a sin to spoil the heavenly meat, all it needs is a hot bath in milk and a rub of salt. I told him that I always felt that the best products need the least preparation and he nodded approvingly – his eyes beamed and although not a boastful man his expression seemed to say “Just wait until you taste my Faverole chicken”.
Apart from all the beauty, all the mouth-watering food, and the sheer pleasure and privilege of being able to buy the best products in such attractive surroundings the real pleasure of the day was to meet people as passionate as Michel and Martine Petit. Everything is done with love. Their son, now heavily involved in the family business has just opened a little store in Paris with Vertessec farm products. “It’s so small you wouldn’t find it even if you were looking for it”, Michel said, but he couldn’t hide his pride in their chicken being sold in Paris. It touches another theme dear to my heart – that of transmission. To pass knowledge down from one generation to another, to pass on and preserve. It’s people like the Petit family that are the reason why French produce is so good – it’s not just a question of selling chicken, it’s the ambition to raise the meilleur chicken, to work twice as hard to make something a little bit better. Like Michel put it. “It’s easy to make good chicken, but to make a great one – aha that’s another story”. “Sometimes I make 90% more effort for 10% more quality – but that is what it takes.” Of course my husband took this as a cue to start talking about dogs and that’s when I wandered off – to take a closer look at the chapons that were running around under a beautiful plum tree that alas never has any plums. I spent a good deal of time in the store, bought two big birds, a sack of wonderful potatoes and Gaïa tried to sneek out with a butternut squash that was lying on top of a stack of pumpkins. I did not authorize that purchase, we have so many at home, but it did inspire me to make butternut pancakes, just to have something to do while the chicken was in the oven. The kids shelled the beautiful red haricots ‘cocos’ beans, which I sautéed in a bit of olive oil, garlic, spring onions and sarriette (I believe it is called summer savory herb in english?). Beans are all over the market these days, and these pink ones are irresistible. Earlier that morning, I made a dessert inspired by a friend’s recommendation. It’s called teurgoule, a classic recipe from Normandie, slow-cooked in the oven for a perfectly creamy and comforting cinnamon flavored rice pudding. It is best to use fresh unpasteurized fresh farm milk to get the extra creamy results, but you can also use fresh full-fat milk. It’s such a delightful dessert, the whole kitchen is perfumed with cinnamon for hours and the smell lingers on all day. What a great way to welcome the fall season.

Butternut pancakes with crispy sage beurre noisette

(for 8 to 10 pancakes)

200 g/ 1 1/3 cup butternut, peeled and cooked
180 g/ 1 ½ cup plain flour
80 ml/ 1/3 cup crème fraîche
30 g/ 1/3 cup parmesan (optional)
1 egg
1 tsp baking powder
A pinch of salt
Butter, for frying

For the crispy sage beurre noisette (butter):
A small bunch of sage leaves
80 g/ 1/3 cup unsalted butter

In a bowl, mix the egg, cooked butternut purée, and crème fraîche. Add the grated parmesan (optional), salt, flour and baking powder until you get a smooth batter. Lightly butter a frying pan over a medium heat, and cook pancakes – flip them over when the surface starts to become bubbly. Pancakes should be golden brown.

For the crispy sage beurre noisette (butter):

Heat butter in a small saucepan, add a pinch of salt and sage leaves on a medium heat. Cook for a few minutes until the butter turns golden brown and the sage leaves are crispy. Set aside.

Serve pancakes with a drizzle of beurre noisette and sage leaves on top. It is also delicious served with a poached egg.

Haricots ‘cocos’ rouges

900 g/ 2 pounds fresh red ‘coco’ beans, shelled
5 branches sariette herb/ summer savory
1 garlic clove, finely sliced
2 spring onions, finely sliced
Olive oil, for frying
Salt & pepper

Cook shelled beans in a large pot of boiling water for 20 to 25 minutes, or until tender and cooked. Drain and leave to cool for 5 minutes. Heat 2 to 3 tablespoons olive oil in a frying pan, add the spring onions and garlic and cook for 2 to 3 minutes. Add the beans and sarriette/ summer savory herbs and continue to cook on a medium heat for 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Serve immediately.

‘Milky’ Roast chicken

(serves 6)

For this recipe, M. Petit advised me to first poach the chicken in a mixture of milk and water, then cook in the oven on a lower heat (150°C/ 300°F, increasing to 180°C/ 350°F for the last 15 minutes. The ‘Poularde cousine Faverole croisée’ variety is renowned for its incredible taste and quality, so he recommends to only season with salt and pepper to keep the authentic taste of the chicken.

950 ml/4 cups milk
2 liters/ 8 cups water
1 good-quality chicken (In this recipe it is a ‘poularde cousine Faverole croisée variety’ from Vertessec farm in Médoc) – 1.3 kg/ 3 pounds approx
Salt & freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 150°C/ 300°F

In a large pot, bring the milk and water to a boil and poach the chicken for 10 to 15 minutes on a medium heat.

Place the chicken on a roasting pan, pour a ladle or two of the poaching liquid over the chicken and season inside and out with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Cook in a preheated oven for 1 hour. Add 2 to 3 ladles of the poaching liquid during the cooking process. Increase the heat to 180°C/ 350°F and cook for 15 more minutes or until golden.

Teurgoule

(serves 6 to 8)

Preheat oven to 150°C/ 300°F.

2 liters/ 8 cups fresh milk (preferably raw milk or at least fresh full-fat)
150 g rice (I used Arborio rice)
180 g granulated sugar
1 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

In a large pot (preferably an earthenware terrine pot), mix the rice, sugar and ground cinnamon together. Pour milk on top and cook in a preheated oven for 4 to 5 hours. The rice pudding should be thick and creamy, with a dark brown caramelized ‘croûte’ (crust) on top. Serve warm.

By the gate of our garden, alongside the little road that leads to the house, there is a wild patch of land that we seldom visit. It’s filled with thorns and thistles, ferns and more distressingly, snakes. The dogs like to go there to hunt for rabbits or mice and once we found Sky, a fox terrier bitch, under the trunk of a dead tree in this wild spot, deep into labor – we were just in time. We call this mystical place Eden, because of the snakes I suppose. In Eden there are sometimes blackberries and we can pick them from the safety of our garden without having to enter. We only take the ones on the higher branches in case the lower ones have been soiled by foxes or other animals. Gaïa, my youngest is absolutely crazy about blackberries and has stained so many dresses with her sticky little fingers. At least the stains are of a lovely color. It’s a case of endless frustration for her that she’s not allowed to pick the lower berries and as Eden doesn’t have so many berries they were soon gone. She found that even more frustrating.

A mind of a two-year old is endlessly fascinating and we noticed that Gaïa, who usually is just glued to me, starting venturing about, trying to get out of the garden. The dogs have a route and Gaïa found it. She was drawn to the forest as if her mind was telling her that even if the berries here were gone, there must be more elsewhere. About ten days ago she was particularly insistent, so Oddur and I took her on a little walk, to satisfy her curiosity. I was hopeful and brought a basket, if not for blackberries then perhaps a few cèpes? We didn’t go very far, only a few hundred meters, and we didn’t find much of anything. Gaïa just couldn’t understand it, she had been so certain. It was a lovely walk though and the dogs enjoyed it more than anyone. I love to walk amongst the dogs when the evening sun hits the forest and their enthusiastic running surrounds us with a cloud of powdery earth.
Hudson felt sorry for his sister, he knows what it’s like to want things badly. He always wants something and he usually gets it. This time would be no different, he was on the case. His father encouraged him, “I’m sure there must be a few more in the garden, you just have to look”, he said in a serious tone meaning that Hudson should not give up easily. And Hudson looked and found. He found an enormous amount to be exact. He brought back a whole bowl. He said there were more and he was right. About ten bowls worth. He had found them in the opposite end of the garden, as far away from Eden as possible. In the wettest part of the garden, which turns to a lake in winter. I’m sure they weren’t there last year, or maybe they were, who knows.

This story, if it’s even a story, reminds me of a novel by the Icelandic Nobel laureate Halldór Laxness. A farmer goes looking for a promised land and paradise but doesn’t succeed and returns home where he finds everything he was looking for. The book is called Paradise Reclaimed (Paradísarheimt) and is a reminder that the things we are looking for are very often just under our noses. Paradise is a state of mind or in this case a whole lot of blackberries.

The question was, what to do with all the blackberries? It’s still summer (yes, don’t argue with me on that) so ice-cream seemed ideal. I love a good soufflé so that was an option too. A simple soufflé with blackberry ice cream, or a blackberry soufflé with vanilla ice-cream. In the end I made it all with blackberries. The ice-cream and soufflé took a bit of time so I had to come up with something quick for the main course. I was inspired by my walk in the forest and that’s what I wanted, flavors of the forest. Luckily I had just bought some figs and girolles and had some shortcrust pastry ready to be used. I love Rocamadour cheese (a lovely creamy goat’s cheese and small in size) and thought it would be a great match with Bayonne ham and a succulent slice of fig. So I made a cheese pastry with all these ingredients, or should I say a fromage en croûte, surrounded by delicious girolles en persillade (sautéed with butter, parsley and garlic). This dish is just like a walk in the woods.

Talking of paradise, my husband has just found his. For him, paradise is a dog called Humfri. Or more precisely Glendraterra Humfri Bogart. He had seen a photo of this dog when he was 4 months old and I don’t think he’s let a day pass since without mentioning him. He says it’s the most beautiful Smooth Fox Terrier in the world and therefore the most beautiful dog in the world. Not a small title. His previous owners, a lovely couple called Jenny and Roger of the Glendraterra kennel in England, were finally ready to let him go. He’s an English Champion and has star quality in spades, just like the Humphrey he’s named after. A true terrier, full of energy with a keen interest in the ladies. He’s already been to Paris and Bordeaux and is settling into life in Médoc.

The other night at dinner my husband was telling the kids that a hundred years from now the families of their grandchildren and great-grandchildren will be sitting like us, having dinner and they too will have a dog like Humfri under the table – his descendants. I think that’s a lovely thought.

Maybe they’ll be having one of my recipes?

Rocamadour en-croûte with figs, Bayonne ham and girolles en persillade (cheese pastry with Bayonne ham and figs)
(serves 4)

4 little rocamadour cheese, 35 g each (You can use any of your favourite cheese, I would recommend camembert or a rich creamy goat’s cheese)
2 slices Bayonne ham
4 figs
300 g/ 2/3 pounds pâte brisée (shortcrust pastry)
250 g/ 1/2 pound girolles mushrooms
1 egg, for glazing
2 tbsp butter
2 tbsp parsley, chopped finely
1 garlic clove, minced
Sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven 425°F/210°C

Roll out the pâte brisée and cut into circles (4&1/2 inches/ 11 cm wide). Slice fig into 4 slices.
Place ½ slice Bayonne ham, then the cheese, then a slice of fig, leaving ½ inch of edge.
Brush the edges with water and place another circle on top. Seal the edges firmly. Decorate as you wish (little leaves for me).
Brush with a glaze of beaten egg and place in the preheated oven for 20 minutes, or until golden.

Meanwhile, prepare the girolles mushrooms.

Slice the remaining figs in small quarters. In a sauté pan, heat 2 tablespoons of unsalted butter on a medium heat. Cook the mushrooms for 2-3 minutes, season with salt & pepper. Add the minced garlic, figs and cook for 1 more minutes, then add the chopped parsley and cook for 30 more seconds.

Place the pastry in the center of the plate, and scatter the mushrooms around. Serve immediately.

Blackberry ice-cream
(serves 8-10)

400 g/ 2 cups blackberries
75 g/ 6 tbsp granulated sugar
1 tbsp lemon juice
2 tbsp water
250 ml/ 1 cup heavy cream

Rinse blackberries and drain. In a saucepan, place blackberries, sugar, 2 tablespoons water and lemon juice. Cook for 10-15 minutes on a medium to low heat, stirring frequently. Pass half of the mixture through a sieve so remove pips (or all of the mixture if you don’t like pips). Set aside and leave to cool completely. Then place in the refrigerator for a least 1 hour.
Combine blackberries mixture with the heavy cream. Switch your ice-cream maker on, pour in cream mixture. Churn in your ice cream maker according to manufacturer’s directions.
Transfer ice-cream to an air-tight container and place in the freezer for a few hours or overnight.

Blackberries soufflé
(serves 4 medium ramekins)

2 egg yolks
2 egg whites
65 g/ 1/3 cup  + 2 tbsp granulated sugar
400 g/ 2 cups blackberries (keep about 20 aside to freeze for garnishing)
2 tbsp orange blossom water
½ tbsp cornstarch

Preheat the oven to 210°C/ 425°F
Butter the ramekins and sprinkle with granulated sugar. Place in the refrigerator until usage.
In a saucepan, cook blackberries with 2 tbsp sugar for 5 minutes on a medium heat. Mash blackberries with a fork and pass through a sieve. Add 2 tbsp orange blossom water. Whisk in the egg yolks one at a time and set aside until cooled.
Whisk egg whites till they hold soft peaks, gradually adding ½ tbsp cornstarch and 60 g sugar.
Fold in the blackberries mixture to the egg whites. Fill the ramekins to the brim with the mixture and level off the surface with a spatula.
Place ramekins on a baking tray in the center of the oven and bake at 210° C/ 425°F for 11-14 minutes (depending on oven strength), or until well-risen and golden.
Sprinkle with icing sugar, place a few frozen blackberries on top of soufflés and serve immediately.