Basque Cheesecake, the pudding that broke internet – according to the Times, and what I’ve learned with time, for all the right reasons.
I took a careful and measured approach to this cheesecake which very quickly became ubiquitous enough to be called “A thing”. A term I prefer to refrain from. But after it has stopped being “A thing”, it’s still an incredibly good cheesecake and has remained a favourite cheesecake of many.
The makings of this particular cheesecake are unbelievably stress-free, the mix is simple and baking it on a high temperature gives you a dreamy browned crust that plays beautifully with the soft centre.
There is no pastry or crumb crust to support it, no raisins, no berries or icing. It’s just silky rich mousse with a desirably blackened top, of which smoky bitterness provides the only contrast that I need, and each morsel makes me want more and more of it.
It’s deliciously satisfying to the point that every spoonful feels like cutting through a cloud.
Golden dark or even slightly burnt on top and with a little jiggle in the middle, served slightly chilled is a dream to savour, especially right now when Spring in London feels like Summer.

I’ve been on the quest to find a recipe (for this cheesecake) that would make my taste buds dance. I’m not trying to reinvent the wheel here, for me it’s been more about playing with the ingredients and the texture that suit my palate. And each of us, inevitably, develops our taste over time. Granted.

The main hero of Basque Cheesecake is, of course, the cream cheese. Philadelphia (used by many and by Santiago Riviera himself – the creator of this famous cake) works very well, but there is no need to limit ourselves and why not to explore what other brands have on offer. Something to look out for and simultaneously bare in mind are the variations in the level of saltiness and sourness, hence you may have to adjust the flavour of the batter by an extra pinch of salt, for example.

I also find that the lemon juice is essential. It just lifts the whole dish and adds a little “zing”.
The freshness of the citrus is particularly enjoyable against the richness of the dairy. During my research I only followed the recipes that combine both: double and sour cream, which make the cake deliciously rich bringing some acidity at the same time.
Some recipes ask for extra egg yolks apart from whole eggs; I keep it simple however, just whole eggs for me.
You could potentially use as much or as little sugar as you like, to lean towards the savoury or to please a real sweet tooth. As with the salt, it all comes down to personal taste.
Sometimes vanilla beans or vanilla extract is added, lemon or orange zest, even chocolate or blue cheese. It’s all up to you. If you want a vanilla flavoured cheesecake – add vanilla, if you like pistachios – add a pistachio paste, and so forth.
Personally, I only raise my hand for lemon juice and a good measure of salt, for a well rounded balance. Given the strong flavour of the caramelised top, any extra ingredients might well be gilding the lily.

Strictly speaking, you don’t have to add any flour and just leave it out of the equation.
Some fear it may make the texture too grainy. But then, some find that the cheesecake is quite “weepy” on the following day and having some flour helps to hold the liquid a lot better. From my own testing experience, I choose potato or corn starch over plain flour. You should definitely consider adding a stabiliser if you don’t have enough time for the cake to set properly and you are thinking of serving it in less than five hours after you’ve taken it out the oven. A little suggestion that may help with planning ahead.

My research also suggests that it’s better to add the batter ingredients gradually rather than mixing everything at once and baking. You might risk overmixing and it’s the rich silkiness we are aiming for rather than light and fluffy. I take it on face value and simply follow along. It seems that slow and steady is the best rule with this cake.

It’s a caramelised cheesecake, baked high and fast, that can be eaten lukewarm or served the next day straight from the fridge, but for even greater enjoyment leave it out for 5-8 minutes before having the first bite. That way you can taste the full flavour of the cheesecake, which you might otherwise miss if it’s too cold. I honestly think it gets better day by day.

If you don’t own a food thermometer, perhaps now is a good time to invest in one (see the recipe).
It’s preferable to err on the side of under – rather than over – baking. A sloppy creamy slice is much more pleasing to eat than overcooked curds (trust me on this one).
A thermometer is a good help, but overall, Basque Cheesecake is something almost impossible to mess up and unbelievably easy to make.
This is a very adaptable dessert, so serve it with whatever takes your fancy. But I like it just as it is, hmmm, maybe with sticky lemons on the side – it’s what talented Nicola Lamb suggests in her “Swift” baking book, and I followed her baking skills (making marginal tweaks), all of which you can find in the recipe below.

Recipe

Basque Cheesecake

• 600 g of full-fat cream cheese
• 200 g caster sugar
• 4 medium eggs
• 130 g of double cream
• 130 g of sour cream
• 50 g of lemon juice (freshly squeezed)
• 15 – 20 g of potato or corn starch
• 6 -7 g of flaky sea salt

Sticky Lemons (optional)

• 2 lemons, sliced (2-3mm thick)
• 100 g of soft light brown sugar
• 100 g of boiling water

Preheat the oven to 240 C / 220 C Fan.
Grease with butter and line the inside of a high-sided 20 cm springform cake tin entirely with baking parchment, making sure you bring up the sides.
Place a pizza stone or baking sheet in the oven to heat up.

For the batter use a standing mixer with the paddle attachment.

Mix the cream cheese with the sugar until the sugar dissolves fully (taste it or check with your fingers). It should feel totally smooth.

Now add the eggs, one by one, scraping down the sides of the bowl to make sure they are well combined.
Next add the sour cream, double cream and the lemon juice.

Sift the flour into a small bowl and add the salt. Whisk in a few tablespoons of the cheesecake batter. This step helps to avoid any lumps or pockets of flour in the cake. It has to be smooth before adding back into the cheesecake batter.

Mix the two batters together, scraping again the sides to make sure it’s evenly combined.
Pour the cheesecake mixture into the prepared tin and tap against your kitchen counter to level the mixture.

For the sticky lemons:
Put the lemon slices into a shallow baking dish, sprinkle the sugar over the top, followed by the boiling water. Wrap with aluminium foil.

Put the cheesecake and the lemons into the oven at the same time.
Bake for 25-35 minutes (it took me 30 minutes in the static oven, 240C) until the top of the cheesecake is well browned and the internal temperature oscillates around 60-62 C – now is the time to use the food thermometer.

Take the cake out of the oven and leave to cool completely before putting it into the fridge.

Whilst you are doing that, take the aluminium foil off the baking dish in which you’ve baked the lemons. Keep the lemons baking in the oven for a further 5 – 6 minutes, allowing them to brown slightly. Leave to cool and store in the fridge. Reheat gently before serving (adding a little bit of boiling water to create a sauce) and serve alongside the individual slices of the cake.

The cheesecake lasts well in the fridge for 3-5 days (it actually improves with time). I find it’s best still slightly chilled, taking it out the fridge 5-8 minutes before serving.

Burford, Cotswolds

Cottage Pie

This is my new favourite. My new British food favourite. It won me over the minute I had it.
And quite bizarrely, I’ve only tried this dish as of recently, or of late, perhaps I should say.
Provided that, collectively, I’ve lived in London for more than 10 years, I only tried this humble Cottage Pie a few weeks ago. If you asked me, I would not be able to explain why it took me so long. In fact, I may have never tried it if it hadn’t been for Nick – the Dégustatur’s friend, his impromptu dinner invitation and his cooking skills.
But we are well acquainted now, the cottage pie and I. A fragrant symphony of softness. Granted.

Cottage Pie, a British comfort-food classic, that shamelessly I hadn’t given a try before.
It soothes and satisfies in equal measure. It’s economical, feeds many and reheats like a dream.
A proper home-made food that we all crave now and then.
I should introduce a small clarification for the novices on two very similar English pies: there is Shepherd’s Pie – minced lamb based, and there is Cottage Pie – which is beef based, both topped with mashed potato.
Lamb in England is very common (and also slightly cheeper than beef), which leeds me to believe that it’s the Shepherd’s Pie that is most often baked in homes, pubs, gastropubs and restaurants.
I didn’t grow up eating lamb. Mainly because my parents have never eaten it or cooked it at home, so it was a novelty to me in my teenage life. But our (close, a handful of km away) neighbours in Poland on the other hand, run a sheep farm, and from what I’m told, they also prepare it very well. Well, we all grew up in a different way, getting used to different flavours and to the traditional dishes cooked at home, mainly by our mothers, and each household has it’s own little secret. Flavours are so subjective – a wonderful invitation to a discussion about food.

For Nick and his wife are brilliant hosts with a great interest in history, culture and travels, they may have foreseen my dietary preferences – since it was the first time we’ve met. Going to their house was like a dive into my early years in London. It turns out we were neighbours. Shame we hadn’t met back then, because they are the kind of people that everyone would love to have around them.

Coleslaw Salad

Since I enjoyed Nick’s creation so much, inevitably, I decided to make it for us at home.
Just imagine: spoonful after spoonful of lusciously rich slowly cooked beef mince, mixed with an enriched with Parmesan buttery mash – soaking up the spiced beef sauce just perfectly.
I had done some research and I made sure that I had Worcestershire sauce to hand, tomato puree and red wine to cook with. I wanted to reproduce the big well defined flavours that I remembered having.
For the mash, I followed Gordon Ramsay’s delicious tip of adding egg yolks and lots of Parmesan to achieve a rich creamy potato mash, the top of which turns crispy golden in the oven.
I choose to serve our Cottage Pie, each and every time, with a coleslaw salad, for which I found my preferred dressing, making it light and fresh. Many coleslaw salads that I’ve come across are sadly overly laden with mayonnaise, sharp vinegar, sugar, sharp onion, and thickly sliced cabbage. I can assure you this is not the case on my table. I shred two to three kinds of cabbage using a mandoline, then toss the paper thin slices with the dressing and adjust for seasoning again if needed. The pie introduces some big rich flavours in its own right already, and a light crunchy coleslaw, slightly peppered with a good white wine vinegar or lemon juice (or a combination of both), balances the meal out perfectly.
Should “my Cottage Pie meal” take your fancy find the recipes right below.

Triple-Cream Cheese

Cottage Pie, ready for baking

The images of the lovely village of Burford, in the Cotswolds, were taken in January.
We don’t go there often, but when we are in the area or we can make a de-tour, like recently on our way back from Wales, we like to stop in the village for lunch and a little grocery shopping. It’s there, in one of the high street deli’s, that I had discovered an amazing cream cheese, the triple-cream cheese “Le Delice De Bourgogne” (cow’s milk). I lack words to describe how soft, creamy and indulgent that cheese is. It’s like cutting through the most beautiful cloud, but creamier, and tastier.
I can buy this kind of cheese in London too, not from the same producer, nonetheless something very similar. The Waitrose grocery store on King Roads sells it at their cheese counter, or, when I purchase it from Harrods’s Food Hall we know we are in for a real treat. In case you come across it, remember to eat it as soon as possible, as you would normally with every other fresh cheese. That particular triple-cream cheese, spread on a toasted sourdough bread is utter bliss, otherwise you could try it on a dry fruit studded bread, also, paired with a slice of membrillio (quince paste) it makes for a perfect way to round off any meal. Or is that too indulgent?

The Cotswolds is a region in South West England, Oxfordshire, famed for its charming honey-coloured stone buildings nestled in the midst of picturesquely manicured rolling hills. A great example of the English countryside’s allure. It’s a collection of quaint villages, but bare in mind, they are all very busy. In fact, the area is sometimes referred to as “little London”, with the Soho House – private member’s club, that sums things up.
Nonetheless, these pristine fairytale – like cottages are full of taste and cosiness, exactly like the Cottage Pie. My new best friend.

Aleksandra xx

1. Cottage Pie

Serves 6:

1 – 1.2 kg of minced beef
2 onions, chopped
3-4 coarsely grated carrots
3 clove of garlic, chopped
some fresh thyme and rosemary, leaves picked and chopped
1 small dry chilli pepper, chopped (or left whole, just remember to take it out before baking)
tomato puree 3-4 tablespoons
1 teaspoon of sugar (optional)
4 tablespoons of Worcester sauce, plus some more if needed
half a bottle of red wine
500 ml of chicken stock (or light beef stock)
4-5 tablespoons of olive oil for frying
salt
pepper

Gently heat the olive oil in a heavy-based saucepan or casserole dish.
Soften the onions and the grated carrots. Add the garlic and the chilli pepper. Fry for a further 5 minutes or so.
Add the beef and brown it, turning the heat up to high if needed. Once you are happy with the meat stir in the tomato puree. After a couple of minutes pour in the wine and wait until it has almost evaporated.
Now add the Worcester sauce, the chopped herbs, salt and pepper (as well as the sugar – optionally) and finally pour in the stock. Give everything a good stir, bring to the boil, reduce the heat, cover with the lid and let it bubble away for about one hour, or longer.
Whilst the beef mince is cooking, stir it occasionally and check for seasoning. Add more of the tomato puree and Worcester sauce if you wish.
If you find that the sauce is too watery, take the lid off and cook until you obtain a consistency of
a meat ragu.

2. In the meantime prepare the Potato Mash:

Ingredients:

1 kg of potatoes (preferably of equal size)
3 egg yolks
250 ml of milk or cream
70 g of butter (or more of you wish)
70 g of grated Parmesan cheese, plus some more to finish
salt
black pepper

Place the potatoes in a pot, cover with cold water and season wth some salt.
Bring to the boil, reduce the heat and simmer until the potatoes are cooked through (for about 20-25 minutes, a small sharp knife should go through with ease).

Tip the potatoes into a colander, let the potatoes cool a little, then peel.
In a pot melt the butter until it starts to bubble, add the milk and keep warm.
Press the peeled potatoes through a potato ricer and add them to the pot, mixing everything well.
Season to taste. Switch the heat off, stir in the grated Parmesan and the egg yolks at the very end.

Preheat the oven to 180 C / 160 C Fan.

If not using the heavy based pan in which you’ve cooked the meat base, take an oven proof rectangular (or oval) dish and pile in the hot meat.
Top it with the mash, level out the surface and sprinkle with the extra Parmesan cheese – taking your own liberties here.
Bake for 25-30 minutes, until the top is crisp and golden, and the meat is bubbling fiercely below.

Serve with: coleslaw salad (see the recipe below), boiled green beans, broccoli or peas.

Coleslaw Salad

3. Coleslaw Salad:

For the dressing:
a scant teaspoon of a good white wine or apple vinegar, you could use lemon instead or a combination of both
1 1/2 of a tablespoon of mayonnaise (or more to taste)
2 generous tablespoons of butter milk
a few pinches of salt
a few pinches of freshly ground black pepper
a touch of honey or sugar (optional)

For the cabbage:

Using a mandoline shred two to three kinds of cabbage: white, red and a sweet heart cabbage, allow a very generous handful per person.
You could thinly grate in some carrots and add some thinly sliced onion as well. But I like to keep it very simple here.

Stir until all the ingredients for the dressing until well combined. Taste and season if needed to your liking.
Add the shredded cabbage and toss well.

A Noble Cheese on Toast

Is there anything better in the world than home-made toast? One that is done properly: a slice of a good sourdough bread, of any kind, put under the grill setting in the oven, until it turns golden and crunchy on both sides when you bite into it, but still retaining some softness in the middle? I think not.

A step up from it would be grilling the bread over an open fire, to which our lifestyles and day to day cooking impose considerable limitations. So lets just settle for now with our kitchen ovens set to: grill.

I had heard vaguely about Welsh Rarebit in the past, once or twice. The Dégustatuer had mentioned it to me when looking for cheeses at Fortnum & Maison, many moons ago. I asked him then what it was as I was baffled by its name, which of course I read as rabbit instead of rarebit. He actually wasn’t too sure about this cheese mixture sold in a lovely pot, next to stilton. We bought it; but I must confess however, that we misused it. We toasted the bread but we didn’t toast the whole thing together….as it should be done from what I’ve learnt recently.

That toasting mishap happened when we came to London for a five day period (from Italy) and we rented a serviced apartment (so we could have at least toast in the kitchen). After that unsuccessful culinary tasting we left the Welsh rarebit and the lovely pot-container behind us. Until now.

Imagination is a very powerful thing, but at times, it can misguide you, or at least myself.
When asked again, the Dégustateur still wasn’t able to fulfil my curiosity. He referred to it as a toast of sorts, something that his father would have, who was not Welsh by the way, and that it’s something of a poor man’s food – an overly used word in today’s culinary world.

In essence, my knowledge was poor and without a shadow of a doubt, I needed to do some research. In my own mind and imagination, it was something that was created with humble ingredients, something rich – melted cheese, tasty and delectably simple. No, no rabbit meat inside; that fare had been reserved only for the wealthy. Frugal cooking at its best, elevated over the years to something exquisite.

Welsh Rarebit

No-one really knows any more how cheese on toast came to be called “rabbit” or “rarebit” (rabbit in Welsh).

What I do know is that this quintessentially British savoury snack-dish is something that sincerely deserves a greater level of attention.

The fruits of my recent online investigation revealed that Saint David’s Day, a feast day of Saint David, the patron saint of Wales, falls on the 1st of March and it seems to dominate the rest of the month. A great reminder that spring is on its way and an even better excuse to celebrate all things Welsh. The day is commemorated in parades, concerts and food festivals; a proper celebration of Welsh heritage and culture with the flag of Saint David flying throughout Wales. The festivities include wearing daffodils and leeks (recognised symbols of Wales) as well as traditional dishes like: cawl (soup), tea loaf, Welsh cakes, Welsh lamb and, of course, Welsh rarebit. (source: Wikipedia)

In late January, quite serendipitously and with a particular curiosity, the Dégustateur and I travelled to the Welsh coast, to inspect a piece of a real estate, situated right at the seafront of Aberystwyth (a university town). It was a very early start to the day, long drive, all possible weather conditions and a storm, which hindered me from holding my camera still on that day. But the stunning scenery, rolling hills and fresh air made up for it all. We stayed overnight in a little town nearby. We had our afternoon tea there, a very refreshing and invigorating walk, we got a room with a direct sea view and got fed very well at dinner. I’d happily repeat exactly the same trip in the future.

Inevitably, upon our return to our little London mews house, I went at length through my most trusted cook books, to find a recipe that would satisfy my taste buds. Well, I selected and tested two recipes, between which I find it very hard to choose from right now. Thus, below I’m sharing them both. A proud toast times two, something new to celebrate March with.
The ingredients are mostly the same: a hard cheese to melt – Cheddar is always good, Guinness beer, Worcestershire sauce and mustard. The spiced melted cheese mixtures differs slightly in consistency, one recipe uses flour as the thickening agent, another one calls for egg yolks, giving it a lighter and velvety texture. A bit chef-y – some may say, but it’s still a very simple and modest snack to make, a crowd pleaser of very well concocted flavours, and seasoned properly, the key to every good dish. Served with a crisp green salad on the side, and perhaps a boiled or fried egg, it’s a meal on its own.

Do give it a try, believe me – you’ll not regret it!

Welsh Rarebit -“The Book of St. John”

1. Welsh Rarebit – “The Book of St. John” by Fergus Henderson & Trevor Gulliver

Serves 4:

– a knob of butter

– 1 tablespoon of plain flour

– 1 teaspoon of English mustard powder (if hard to find use a strong mustard instead )

– 1/2 a teaspoon of cayenne pepper

– a very long splash of Worcestershire sauce (plus more to serve)

– 200 ml of Guinness

– 450 g of mature strong Cheddar cheese, grated

– 4 large pieces of a good white bread

Method:

Melt the butter in a small pan, stir in the flour and let it cook together until releasing nutty notes but not browning.
Add the mustard powder and cayenne pepper, stir in the Worcestershire sauce, next the Guinness. and finally gently melt in the cheese.

Once the mixture has reached a homogenous consistency, take the pan off the heat.

After a few minutes pour it into a shallow container lined with cling film, and allow to set.

You can keep it covered in the fridge for a good few days.

Toast each piece of bread on both sides. I normally set my oven to 180 C Grill.

Allow the bread to cool a little. Cover each slice with the rarebit mixture, about 1 cm thick (press it on with your fingers if it doesn’t spread with ease).

Line a baking tray with a sheet of baking parchment. Place the prepared bread on the tray and place under the grill until golden and bubbling (allowing the flour to cook through).

Serve hot with a bottle of Worcestershire sauce on the side (optional).

Before pouring the sauce on top of the hot melted rarebit, make a criss cross pattern or a couple of lines with a knife, so the sauce can run through the melted cheese.

I’m quite heavy handed with the spices and seasoning hence I don’t feel the need for extra sauce here. With or without the sauce, eat as you like it the most.

Welsh Rarebit-“J. Sheekey”

2.Welsh Rarebit “J. Sheekey, Fish”

Serves 4:

– 80 ml of Guinness
– 80 ml of double cream
– 150 g of grated Cheddar cheese
– 1 teaspoon of English mustard (or any other strong mustard)
– 2 teaspoons of Worcestershire sauce
– 2 medium egg yolks
– salt
– black pepper
– 4 slices of a good white bread (best if compact, without big holes)

Simmer the Guinness in a saucepan until it has reduced by half.
Add cream and reduce by half again.
Stir in the cheese and stir until it melts completely.
Remove from the heat and stir in the mustard, the Worcestershire sauce followed by the egg yolks. Season well.
Leave to cool or keep in the fridge until needed.

Pre-heat the grill, say 180 C. Toast the bread on both sides.
Spread the cheese mixture on top (about 1cm of coating) right to the edges.
Grill until deliciously golden browned in colour.

Serve warm, with or without a bottle of Worcestershire sauce on the side.

A year has passed already since I last visited Rome.

Rome became our first home in Italy, literally and metaphorically. It still feels like home to me, and I strongly believe that the Dégustateur feels the same way. Over the years I’ve ambled, walked or rushed across so many corners of its historic centre, that now, when I return, I navigate with ease in the ever so busy heart of town.

The reason for my frequent trips to Rome, after having moved to Venice, Florence and subsequently to London, was a small medical treatment I had started, and chose to continue until it’s finish with the same trusted group of people. It actually turned into so much fun and grew into a strong bond over the years. I also managed to spend some time with my dear friends, eat my favourite street food: supplì al telefono and pizza rossa, followed by a slice of the ricotta and visciole tart from pasticceria Boccione in the Ghetto (yes, this famous tart is sold per slice now, previously you had to buy a quarter or a half if it – never a problem for us).

Apparently there has been an unofficial division between who goes to Forno Campo de’ Fiori or Antico Forno Roscioli, meaning that you are either go to one or another. I’ve never belonged to any of them, but I’ve always shopped for pizza rossa – thin, crunchy and utterly divine – at Forno Roscioli. If, however, I’m in the mood for sitting down and resting my legs for a moment, I head to Forno Monforte in Via del Pellegrino. There I just love having a slice of pizza rossa with olives and salty anchovies, all washed down with a glass of chilled franciacorta, bliss. The simplest things are often the most exquisite.

Breakfast in Rome I’d treat as a proper affair: countless coffees here and there, la veneziana – a yeasted bun with cream, and/or cornetto alla crema. Guilty pleasures that I never felt guilty about. In fact, when time allowed, I literally walked and walked around Rome for hours, and needed a good dose of energy for it. I would stroll to The Orange Trees Garden (Giardino degli Aranci) on the Aventine Hill, to breathe a moment of calmness and inhale the delicate scent of orange trees; up to Gianicolo Hill for unparalleled views over the city; to the Basilica di San Pietro; Roman Forum – either before breakfast or in the evening, that’s always been my ritual; I’d walk to Ponte Milvio, Galleria Borghese and so many more places or spots of sweet memories that I hold.

I would always stop in a church, a different one each time, to light a candle – a tradition that the Dégustateur and I cherish a lot, and I would always bring back a big bag of coffee beans from Sant’ Eustachio Il Caffé, of which I’ve run out of already. You can call me unreasonable or even spoilt, preferably – please don’t judge me, but I would travel to Rome just to stock up on my coffee bean supply.

I can sincerely confess: there are days when I miss Rome acutely…

Pasta with Ricotta and Cinnamon

But there is one thing that I haven’t been very lucky with, the weather. Apart from the June heat most of my stays were covered by a blanket of an angry dark sky. If I didn’t get a deluge then the days were mostly grey and humid, with frequent intervals of a drizzle or rain, yet again. I really mean it, so so unlucky. Well, gloomy weather lends itself so greatly to long lunches, which is what I did occasionally, as there was nothing else to do or a place to dry my clothes. On these occasions, to brighten my mood and soul, I decided to treat myself to something special and sit down properly, taking my time to savour every moment. I have a particularly fond memory of walking in late to Pierluigi at Piazza de’ Ricci. Crunchy curly puntarelle tossed in an anchovy dressing were a must, followed by a Roman minestra di broccoli e arzilla (skate and Roman broccoli soup), all pleasingly paired with a glass of a cold and crisp glass of white wine from Castelli Romani.

By the time I finished my meal the restaurant was quietening down, all the crescendo and gentle hum of the voices and cutlery vanished, and that is when the waiters and myself got into a long conversation. Nobody rushed anything. Just the three of us left chatting, laughing, exchanging experiences, discussing where and why one would like to live in the future and what the expectations of the Romans for the upcoming Giubileo were (that is yet to be verified). A few ciambelline al vino to round my meal off before collecting my travel bag, say and kiss goodbye and head to the airport.

I’m a person who cooks when I yearn for a place. I almost start to smell and feel that particular part of the world, a particular moment, ingredients, as if it was present.
We’ve had here in London so many dry and sunny days that you can notice Spring everywhere. Technically it’s still Winter, but the sunny glow of the daffodils contrasted by clear blue skies insinuates something else. My longing for Rome and the whisper of Spring had guided me towards something fresh and fragrant, something peppered with mint and the best lemons I can possibly find. About a week or so ago I spotted a wonderfully creamy, piercing white cow’s milk ricotta in my local Natoora grocery shop, so I bought it – already having in mind what to magic up with it.
In Rome and Lazio most of the recipes will call for a sheep’s ricotta, which is traditional and creamier in texture. But in London, the availability of the ingredients is a different matter, and I was fully satisfied with what I found. And just like that, I made us two different ricotta pasta dishes on two consecutive days. I even decided to make the tagliatelle pasta from scratch. I have a second pasta rolling machine in my London kitchen, but don’t use it as often as I would like to. Homemade or shop bought, I’m sharing here with you a couple of the world’s easiest, toss it and season kind of ricotta pasta dishes, as well as a delicious reminder of L’ Amatriciana – guanciale and tomato sauce – tossed with bucatini, finished with a grating of Pecorino Romano, something for colder days, because it’s still winter after all !

Tagliatelle con Ricotta, Menta e Limone

1. Tagliatelle with Ricotta, Lemon and Mint / Tagliatelle con Ricotta, Menta e Limone

This simple plate of food was born amongst the shepherds where ricotta predominates and freshly picked mint has always been available.
I’ve enriched this humble dish with freshly grated fragrant lemon zest and a handful of grated parmesan.

Serves 4:

– 380-400 g of tagliatelle egg pasta
– 300-350 g of fresh ricotta (use sheep’s ricotta if possible otherwise the best cow’s ricotta you can find)
– a handful of fresh mint leaves, chopped
– 2-3 tablespoons of grated parmesan
– salt
– freshly ground black pepper
– grated lemon zest of one lemon, unwaxed

Bring a large pot of salted water to the boil and cook the pasta until al dente according to the instructions on the packaging.
In the meantime stir the ricotta with the mint, grated parmesan and lemon zest. Whilst the pasta is boiling take two tablespoons of the water from the pot and mix it with the lemony ricotta, just to loosen it a little.
Adjust the seasoning with some salt and black pepper.

Drain the pasta (once it has cooked al dente) and fold it into the ricotta and mint sauce.
Check for salt and pepper and season again if needed.

Serve immediately decorating with some grated lemon zest.

Pasta con Ricotta e Cannella

2. Maccheroni with Ricotta and Cinnamon

I came across this recipe in Ada Boni’s “La Cucina Romana”, which I bought during one of last visits to Rome. I love it not only because of its simplicity but because it reminds me of the Polish sour white cheese dumplings, which back home we’ve always eaten with melted butter, cinnamon and sugar.

Serves 4:
– 380-400 of maccheroni or other short kinds of pasta
– 300 g of fresh ricotta (use sheep’s ricotta if possible otherwise the best cow’s ricotta you can find)
– 3-4 teaspoons of sugar
– 1 1/2 – 2 teaspoons of cinnamon

Bring a large pot of salted water to the boil and cook the pasta until al dente according to the instructions on the packaging.
In the meantime stir the ricotta with the sugar and cinnamon until well combined and creamy.
Whilst the pasta is boiling take two tablespoons of the salted water from the pot and mix it with the ricotta, just to loosen it a little. Taste and adjust for sugar and cinnamon to your liking.

Drain the pasta (once it has cooked al dente) and fold it into the ricotta and cinnamon sauce.
Serve immediately.

Bucatini all’Amatriciana

3. Bucatini all’ Amatriciana

Bucatini is a thick spaghetti-like pasta with a hole running through the centre. It’s common throughout Lazio and it cooks slightly quicker due to the hollow centre.
If you are worried about any stains on your white shirt, just cook mezzemaniche or rigatoni (a short kind of pasta with ridges) instead.

L’Amatriciana is our favourite pasta dish (I got converted) and I play with the recipe every single time I make it. It all depends on the guanciale I’m able to find and the availability of fresh tomatoes. If those are out of season then tinned pelati are used. I encourage you to do the same, because the end result will differ slightly based on the above factors, as well as the Pecorino Romano cheese.
For my latest home-made Amatriciana for instance, I upped the ratio of the guanciale to the the tinned tomatoes. I simply found the guanciale too mild so I used 200 g of it in order to get good satisfying and profound flavours, exactly as we like it.

Serves 4:

– 320 – 400 g of bucatini or rigatoni pasta
– 500 – 600 g of peeled and crushed by hand fresh tomatoes (or use two tins of pelati tomatoes instead)
– 150-200 g of guanciale cut into lardons * (hard rind cut off)
– half a glass of white wine
– 1 small chilli pepper (initially use only half of it as a test, the whole one might be too hot for you)
– a good 100 g of grated pecorino cheese (pecorino from Amatrice or Pecorino Romano) to finish

Guanciale* is a cured pork meat carved from the jaw up to the cheek (la guancia). Pancetta is not really an immediate substitute, however you can always use it if guanciale is hard to get.

Heat up a large pan on a medium heat and add the guanciale lardons. Gently fry for a good few minutes until the lardons turn golden in colour and some of the guanciale fat has melted.
Pour in the white wine and cook all together until the wine has almost evaporated.
Now add the tomatoes and the deseeded chilli pepper. Carry on cooking (initially without the lid) on a low heat for about 40-50 minutes stirring occasionally.

Bring a large pot of water to the boil (you may not want to salt the water as the pecorino cheese is already fairly salty) add the pasta and cook until al dente (according to the timing given on the packaging). Reserve a cup of the water from cooking the pasta to dilute the sauce if needed.

Once the pasta turns al dente, drain it and add it to the pan with the sauce. Toss well and carry on cooking for a minute or so. Add some of the reserved water if you find the sauce too thick. Discard the chilli pepper and stir in some of the grated pecorino.

Serve immediately finishing it off with more of the grated pecorino on top.

St.James’s Park

Creamed Rice Pudding

I woke up and stepped into the New Year with a new appetite. The appetite for new things to try. Things that perhaps I wouldn’t have tried if it wasn’t for a generous portion of Stilton cheese resting on my fridge shelf since Christmas.
Having spent the Christmas period with our family in Poland (a last minute flight arrangement turned into a good plan) we returned to London late, but just in time for the New Year’s Eve. It took a trip to our local fishmonger and grocery store to conjure up a festive-like dinner at home and welcome 2025 with a glass of champagne. I don’t know about you, but I like my champagne, and any kind of sparkling wine – be it prosecco or franciacorta, well chilled. Not really the conventional French recommendation, so please forgive me but that’s just me. As simple as that, a bottle of Bollinger Rosé was on a mission since morning, reaching the desired temperature in the fridge, to be ready for the evening.

London during the Christmas holidays turns exceptionally quiet. Everything slows down after the pre-festive excess. A gentle hum of cars passing by, a rare dog barking in the distance, empty parking bays. The centre of the city seems deserted. The past year, 2024, had very little in common with the “typical English weather” and the beginnings of January haven’t acquainted themselves with that term either. Cold dry and crispy weather is what we both like. The wintery low amber hued light is just magical, especially when the short days draw to a close, imbuing everything along the way with its warm dusky golden tones. We welcomed the New Year with some magnificent walks – St James’s area was particularly atmospheric with the odd pub open, hidden amongst tall elegant and majestic buildings. From there, unplanned, led by the lovely setting light we crossed to St James’s Park, which, in my mind still belongs to a bygone era, and it’s where I said out loud that winter in London can be beautiful. Or maybe I’ve already managed to settle down here a little and develop a special fondness for certain places, to which I may have to soon say goodbye.

Baked Rice Pudding

Savoury Scones – Lunch

As we walked back home I made a spontaneous announcement: “right, I’m baking scones”. Savoury scones to be precise, with the same Stilton cheese waiting on the shelf in the fridge. I had never baked or even tried savoury scones before and this sudden idea was a novelty to me, but I strongly felt that the flavours would be very good. Somewhere in my mind I had been writing a recipe for a Stilton and walnut tart in a short crust pastry; but I’ve never made it. Instead, I bought 1 kg of self raising flour, some good pears and rolled up my sleeves. I pulled my large beige Mason Cash mixing bowl from the kitchen corner cupboard and started to sift, grate, chop and mix all the ingredients I had on my list: the Stilton, of course, some Cheddar cheese, walnuts and a pear – for keeping the scones moist and to give a delightful accompaniment to the strong blue cheese (find the recipe here).
The key to fluffy scones is to handle the dough as little and as gently as possible, and I strictly follow that rule. The aromas wafting through the house as the scones baked where so promising, that we both watched them rise in the oven until they reached the right size whilst turning golden in colour. These scones are irresistible freshly baked, piping hot, broken in half in your hands and toped with some cold butter. It’s how we had them when they came out, immediately devouring half of the portion. In simple and modest words – success!
These savoury scones were an absolute revelation to me and I made three batches of them that same week, always the sign of a good recipe – one to keep. If I have any of the scones left over, I like to reheat them (they still remain delicate and fluffy) and pair them with more cheese – soft creamy and fresh brie works a dream, or lay a couple of thin slices of ham on top, not to mention about the obligatory smattering of cold butter first. We would have them for breakfast or as part of lunch. They work wonders for the aperitivo hour.
Then a new week came and with it a new recipe for scones. This time I kept them slightly simpler, nonetheless, truly divine: grated Cheddar cheese – and lots of it, powdered mustard (widely used for making roast beef), I chose to keep the pear for it enhances the texture, and a more generous touch of pepper. To try them straight from the oven is a must, trust me here. They are just perfect with cream cheese and a few slices of smoked salmon or crunchy bacon strips, more black pepper and freshly chopped chives for a lovely Sunday breakfast or lunch – just a suggestion.

I must confess that now I prefer them to their sweet counterpart – rigorously served with clotted cream and jam.

Baked Rice Pudding with Boozy Raisins

Vanilla Rice Pudding & Stilton Cheese Scones

Stilton, Pear and Walnut Scones for Breakfast

There are another two new recipes which have satisfied my cravings this year so far: rice pudding, made in two completely different ways.

The scones above are my invention, both rice puddings, however, come from two different chefs and subsequently two different cookbooks. I had those recipes stored somewhere, overlooked and forgotten about, really. I can’t explain what triggered my desire for a rice pudding, cold weather perhaps? A good rice pudding, glistening and creamy, dotted with vanilla seeds aplenty, can be sensational. A bit of love and a few extra ingredients turn this humble, a childhood memory pudding into something more sophisticated, but still imbuing me with comfort and cosiness. One of the rice puddings is slowly cooked with milk, sugar and vanilla. Once the rice turns tender, you stir in some butter, cream and condensed milk. It’s lovely and creamy, slightly sweet (but not overly sweet) and to offset it I like to top each warm portion of it with some cherries in Kirsch, which I buy a large jar of from Fortnum & Mason (link to the recipe).The second method is to bake the pudding in the oven. It’s so simple: you begin with a buttery caramel in a heavy-based casserole dish, into which you stir in the rice. Next follows the cream, milk and vanilla. Because we start with the caramel first here, the entire pudding immediately soaks up its warm lightly golden colour, which only exalts in the oven, forming a very appetising crust (link to the recipe). In this baked rice pudding you can only taste a hint of sweetness and we enjoy each portion (always warm) served with a spoonful of spiced boozy raisins (raisins or sultanas soaked in vodka, rum or grappa, preferably for longer than overnight).

Do try the above recipes and tell me you didn’t like them.

Happy New Year!

Aleksandra xx

English Mustard Powder

Kugelhopf

Christmas is perhaps the most magical time of the year. The first twinkle of the street lights, elegantly decorated fancy shop windows or arcades decked in holly – and London certainly knows how to do it well, the first smell and taste of a spiced Chrisms cake, of any kind, and a warming mulled wine.

Shorter, colder and darker days laden with emotional attachment and nostalgia are much welcomed, at least by myself, as I can relish walking along beautifully adorned streets and look at happy faces. I’ve always loved the entire build up towards Christmas, but over the past years the whole festive season has been equally enjoyable, especially when we get to spend it in the warmth of our family home back in Poland, where we have quite a lot of celebrating to do: Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, of course, followed by New Year’s Eve and my mother’s birthday somewhere in between.

We are already approaching mid December and this year, for one reason or another, we still don’t know how are we going to spend Christmas.

Very rarely do we plan a long way ahead which would normally involve a long haul flight headed to Africa and many reservations to be made. We’ve done several trips over the years to either South Africa, Kenya or Tanzania, spending the holiday in the warmth (a particular favourite of the Déguastatuer). More often than not we actually can’t plan a lot in advance, but we would always have an idea of how to spend Christmas, as it is an important time filled with traditions, rituals and family gatherings to share all the festive fare.

It’s been a rather tricky and difficult year, more than any I can remember or I can quickly think of. Hence for me the much anticipated pre-Christmas hustle and bustle has had a slow start. I’m late with the presents, which I adore giving, but on a positive note – I’ve got my head around the food. There are certain things that I’ll cook wherever we are: either simply here in London (perhaps my brother-in-law will join us) or in the midst of rural Poland with my parents, hopefully with a blanket of dry crispy snow outside.

The Dégustatur is British and he has adopted the continental tradition of celebrating Christmas Eve on the 24th. His festive season has extended, what’s not to like. On that particular day we would have a slightly bigger breakfast, skip lunch and have a formal dinner based on vegetables and seafood. This is what we are going to eat. We will begin with scallops, hand dived, first pan fried with some garlic and parsley, a dash of white wine and finished off in the oven on the shell. Beautifully caramelised on top and soft in the middle. They are a real treat and I’ve been buying them from our local fish monger, who happens to be The President of Britain’s Fishmonger’s Guild. To follow, I will also prepare some cooked white crab meat, which we’ve been eating literally on repeat: “We will not have it once we leave London so lets make the most of it”, it’s the mantra that we keep repeating to ourselves.

We’ve been having dressed white crab with – dare I call it – a classic dressing (mayonnaise, Worcestershire sauce, lemon juice, a few spices plus some other ingredients) either with a toasted sliced brioche (I wrote about it here and shared the recipe here) or on a bed of salad leaves and finished off with boiled eggs. Recently, our favourite way of enjoying it is tossed with a chopped green apple, cucumber, lime juice, fresh mint, some chopped chilly, plus a few other ingredients to taste. It’s fresh, light and compliments the sweetness of the crab.

Next, the pasta course: anchovy and butter spaghetti. The beauty of this dish lies in its simplicity, just three ingredients which magic up a sublime and elegant plate of food. Little work involved too.
Baking and making cakes is a satisfying affair for me. It somehow automatically stands for a familiar warmth and a sweet smelling air, a cosy fragrance travelling from the kitchen, spreading all over the house. A desirable feeling, even more so right now – a prelude to Christmas.

Stollen Bites

Sloane Square

Apricot, Fennel Sausage, Pistachio Christmas Log

Whilst we are in the realms of extra spice, extra dry fruit, extra nuts, extra booze to spice up and moisten a traditional cake and an extra little something, I came across Stollen Bites in the December issue of Waitrose magazine. Jürgen Krauss shares his recipe saying: “It’s a treasured part of a German Christmas, but traditional stollen is quite involved to make and needs time to mature”. From my research stollen also involves marzipan, which Jürgen omits in his recipe (follow the recipe here). These little crescent bites contain almonds, raisins, candied orange peel, ground nutmeg, cloves and coriander. Quintessentially everything that Christmas baking is all about, and lots of icing, if not for the sweetness then for the extra festive look. The Dégustateur has been nibbling on them already and it looks like I might be making a new batch soon.

I’ll also bake kugelhopf, a slightly sweet (similar to brioche) German bread, which looks very glamorous as it’s traditionally baked in a special kugelhopf mould or a bundt cake tin. It’s spiced with rum soaked raisins (I soak mine overnight-trust me on this one) and I bake it with almonds, for a lovely visual aspect. Arguably it’s best eaten on the day of baking whilst still slightly warm, though, we love it on the followings days, toasted and topped with butter and bitter orange marmalade (thinly sliced smoked cheese, say scamorza affumicata, works a dream too).

There will be Crostata di Noci e Caramello Salato, a little twist on my Caramel and Walnut Tart – I just added some salt to the warm caramel to taste, that’s all. It’s a must have tart on our table, utter heaven.
There might be a space left for Chocolate and Hazelnut Pavlova, it just looks so festive, apart from being a sheer delight.

Then, we will wake up on Christmas Day and our feast will continue. There will be chicken, not a roast, but prepared a day earlier our perennial favourite Chicken Fricassêe with Red Wine Vinegar and Tarragon. The flavours will only improve overnight making the kitchen management a much easier and stress free task. I will roast some potatoes in duck fat (left over from roasting duck legs some time ago), maybe cook some lentils – Italian style, I’ll make a large plate of fresh crunchy salad and something new and very simple: boiled carrots in a delicate mustardy sauce. I was asked for a recipe on my Instagram, so Inge, here it is, especially for you!

This time last year, also in the Waitrose magazine, I found a true gem introduced by Angela Harnett, a chef whom I’ve admired for years. She shared a recipe for Apricot, Sage, Fennel Sausage and Almond Christmas Log. Subsequently I shared it too on the blog, and I’m sharing it again this year. It’s something absolutely fabulous, the opulence of festive flavours mixed with some minced meat simply baked in a shape of a log. Angela, from what I recall, used pistachios, not almonds, but you can play with the nuts to your own enjoyment.

Carrots in a Light Buttery Mustard Sauce / Sloane Street

Depending on where we are spending Christmas this year, the food and cooking will be moved from one kitchen to another, hence the title of a moveable feast. Maybe scallops will be problematic to find in Poland (I should manage with the crab meat) but the essence will be the same wherever we are: to put the heart into it and enjoy cooking to share the food with the people we love. Food brings people together not only literally, also metaphorically.

How to finish a Christmas meal? Panettone; my mother had preordered a couple of really good ones from our favourite pastry bakery; need I say more?

Wishing you all a very Happy and Delicious Christmas, wherever you are xx

Green Park

Chocolate and Hazelnut Pavlova

I waved goodbye as I was closing our front door on a balmy late September afternoon, and then I opened it on a wet grey mid November morning, or at least it feels that way.

This elusive thought of what happened in between comes and goes, like a gentle hum of different personas passing through our door.  A blend of friends, family and some work connections. It all merges into one like a harmonious drift from one day to another. As I start to press my memory a bit harder now, a lot has happened actually, good and bad. Lets focus on the good part though, exactly the same way as we all wish to be remembered by. The notion of the events doesn’t allow me to allocate a greater importance to one or the other, so I’m thinking: “a chronological order perhaps? Hmm, maybe not.” These moments   seem to overlap in my mind, but, they have a common denominator: good food, lovely company and a dreamy Autumn in London. I really mean it, I’ve loved the weather here over the past two months.

 

Everything commenced with an unexpectedly warm and pleasant week: just imagine the morning haze burnt off by the sun by midday, a gentle breeze, the temperatures reaching 26-27 C and a return of the sun kissed glow on your face – the best make up there is.  I wore shorts again and a (smart) shirt – we live in a big city after all and the West End is more of a suit and tie kind of place. The truth to be told is that my wardrobe doesn’t fit London that well anymore and that is for two particular reasons: 1) most of my clothes along with the household items are kept in a storage back in Italy, 2) different weather and lifestyle in Italy required a different set of clothing. But I have to manage with what I’ve got and I did bring a few shirts with me. Currently for us London is an extended short-term living situation, still temporary though. Not sure if it’s a matter of a few weeks or months, that’s the bad part, but that will be resolved eventually. We are suspended right now between England and our future home, perhaps in Italy, but who knows, life right now can be full of surprises.

Apple Crumble with Calvados

Touluse Sausages in Red Wine Sauce

Moving swiftly to the positive events, my very good friend  from Poland, Dagmara and her husband, came for a visit and they couldn’t have asked for a better weather. Taking full advantage of it we walked a lot: parks, museums, monuments, dim sum lunch in China Town and an obligatory Saturday morning trip to the farmer’s market – the apples right now are so delectably crunchy and flavoursome that I buy them in bulk. Naturally the evenings were turning a bit chilly but we still managed to have a small beer or a little Guinness standing outside our two local pubs and soaked up the convivial and lively atmosphere emanating from the premises. On one of those days we crossed Hyde Park heading for The Ginger Pig butcher located in Marylebone Village. From the early lunch hours you will always find a long line queuing for its renowned sausage rolls. They are very rich but a must try. The parallel and shorter line is for the regular meat shop, where I always buy chicken, and as of recently the sausages: Toulouse and Cumberland. I came up by a little inspiration as well as  trial and error with a new recipe for Baked Sausages in a Red Wine and Dijon Mustard Sauce. There are also shallots, some garlic and fresh thyme present in the sauce. I don’t add any flour to thicken the sauce, instead, I let it evaporate a little before popping the dish into the hot oven. I bake the sausages without the lid, turning them every 10 minutes, allowing them to develop a very appetising dark crispy skin. In September I served this dish with boiled sweet and tender corn cobs, topped with butter and Maldon salt- so good and so seasonal. This time of year however, I’d bake some potatoes with it and prepare a simple crunchy green leaf salad, or a new favourite, shredded (or thinly sliced) cabbage with a simple lemony olive oil dressing.

Dagmara loves meringues. Remembering that I had some egg whites in the freezer (I always have some egg whites left after making: custards, zabaione or Torta della Nonna filling) I quickly conjured up a one tiered pavlova to round the welcome dinner off. My first intention was to top the meringue base with whipped vanilla cream and macerated plums.  But this year I was rather disappointed or unlucky with the plums here, so I improvised with what I had in my kitchen cupboard. I folded half of the whipped cream with a very moreish chocolate and hazelnut spread, and layered it all up. It was divine and all gone the same evening (find the recipe here).

 Another lovely thing, almost a regular by now, have been weekly visits of “my younger” cousin. There is only a two year age gap between us but that’s how I had first called her introducing Elizabeth to the Dégustateur, and that’s what we still call her now. She comes on Wednesdays, after work and is always happy to try, or to my sheer delight have seconds, of what I’ve prepared for her. She’s particularly enjoyed my Apple Crumble with Calvados with a generous spoonful of a warm Vanilla Créme Anglaise, roast pumpkin cream soup and a freshly baked brioche loaf.
 The brioche loaf I’ve been baking for a while now and have found “my perfect recipe” for it. I love its pillowy soft, light yellow texture and a firm dark shiny crust. It smells of butter, fresh yeast and a happy home. It’s so versatile and in fact we are never bored of it. Still slightly warm from the oven it’s a dream to have. On the following day for breakfast I’d toast a few slices of it, spread some butter on top – which will start to melt a little, and then coat it with a bitter orange marmalade (preferably from Fortnum & Maison). Have a freshly brewed strong coffee with it and you may not want to have anything else for breakfast. Brioche, a slightly sweet rich bread, pairs so well with pâtés, strong cheeses and anchovies. If you have anything left, bread and butter pudding is always a good idea to make.
We’ve been bewitched lately by baking “my brioche” but I must admit that it has gained a strong competition in a form of focaccia with semola, potato and rosemary. A rather rustic Southern Italian style soft bread with a crunchy crust, which soaks up perfectly strong and fragrant olive oil, a match made in heaven (recipe soon on the blog).

 I’ve always been very happy to cook for other people, but on daily basis it’s just the two of us, sitting down to dinner where we have a longer moment to spend with each other, chat over a homemade meal accompanied by a candle light (soon also during lunches as it getting darker) and usually a glass of wine. Many new and old dishes are left for our own gratification, like a recent late Sunday breakfast for example: nutty and warm chestnut flour and orange blossom water pancakes filled with a chestnut cream spiced with some dark rum.

The Changing of the Guard Ceremony

Chestnut Pancakes

Fougasse

 I tried out a new recipe for a classic French Fougasse that I wanted to share with you, in case you wish to make a little impression on your guests with a homemade bread-just a thought. Plain flour, yeast, salt and olive oil, so simple. It’s extremely tasty and you can play around with the toppings: rosemary, olives or sun dried tomatoes. Moreover, it’s so visually appealing. You only have to make a few slashes with a sharp knife to the flattened dough so it resembles a leaf, more or less. Voilà!
 
I haven’t started cooking the usual cold weather comfort hearty meals yet because the weather has been surprisingly fabulous. After my friends had left, it got colder, that’s true, we had some mists and morning fogs which I love, but it’s been dry all the while and abnormally warm. The parks have never looked prettier: the slowly falling leaves coating the surroundings with all manner of autumnal hues: greens turning yellow, saffron, scarlet, deep red and russet have covered many parts of London with a soft blanket, on which I meandered for hours, almost daily, enjoying the rustle of the beautiful dry foliage. I just put on a comfortable pair of shoes and walked everywhere cloaked in a soft mist, that just couldn’t be more atmospheric.
 
One day I decided to play a tourist and went to see something that I hadn’t watched in years: The Changing of the Guard ceremony. The Changing of the King’s Guard ritual involves three locations: Buckingham Palace, St. James’s Palace and Wellington Barracks as well as different timings. I’ve always preferred to watch it at Wellington Barracks (just before 11am), it’s less crowded there and once the New Guard departs, I like to take a stroll across St. James’s Park or along The Mall, or when not pressed for time, pay a visit to The National Gallery at Trafalgar Square.   

Occasionally during weekends, together with the Dégustateur, we set out for a walk to Soho, passing through Belgravia first, then crossing Green Park and watching the squirrels hunting and posing unabashedly whilst asking for food – they look pretty plump right now and so ready for the winter. Following the inevitable stop at Hatchards  (the oldest bookshop in the United Kingdom) and forever originally decorated Fortnum & Maison grocery department store, we reach Piccadilly Circus with its filled to the brim The Devonshire pub behind (and a very good restaurant above – book in advance). We enjoy this eclectic crowd as well as so many different Soho restaurants: Barrafina, Quo Vadis, Dean Street Townhouse, Andrew Edmunds to name but a few.   The exact opposite of the quiet neighbourhood that we live in.
 
Nature turns dormant as I finish writing this post and we are bracing for a cold front to come. The sleepy drift from one day to another has come to an end exactly now once the weather has turned and the signs of approaching Christmas are popping up everywhere. And one thing is absolutely certain: London does its Christmas decorations extremely well!

The Devonshire Pub
 

Torta della Nonna

As I write this post I’m already back in London, sitting at my desk by a window, surveying the quiet streets of our neighbourhood and looking at the beginnings of the renovation project right next door to Elisabeth David’s former house.
It’s very sunny today, the skies are mostly clear blue, the warm rays of sunshine are working their wonders but I can already feel on my skin a very noticeable whisper of Fall waiting just round the corner. This summer ended very abruptly, like a flip of a coin or a turning of your palm.

We are currently suspended in between the seasons, longing for the end of summer balmy days to endure whilst starting to crave hearty and slow cooked meals to warm up our bodies..
As I’m quite saddened by this brisk change of weather which leaves us with nothing but to say good bye to the days that we all have to wait for a whole year to see again, I started to reminiscent of our stay in our family home in Poland.
Almost every August, predominantly the second half of it as it’s my father’s birthday, we follow our endearing ritual and set off to spend some quality time with my family.

The time that we share in the midst of the rural countryside back home flows at a different pace, not necessarily implying a slower pace, just different. It’s more like a calm drift from one day to another. The days start more or less the same way: I wake up at dawn and have my first coffee on the terrace, either in solitude or in the company of my father (you might spot him on one of the images checking on the meadows), who’s always been a very early riser. When you get up so early almost all your life, usually before 6 am (actually more often than not around 5 am), your natural clock will never reverse back. You see, my father grew up on a farm, and has both with my mother a farm of their own. And so, my older brother and I grew up in a farming family and community.

The time spent in my homeland is not just all blissful leisure and long walks with our two little dogs. There is always something to do, to help with, to discuss, to sort out, to check on the farm and at this time of year – to inspect the verdant green meadows, which lie a few kilometres away in a very picturesque setting of another, centred around XVIII century palace, little village in the background.

Spaghetti with a Tomato and Anchovy Sauce

Polish Plum Yeast Cake

Being born and raised in the countryside has left so many lasting impressions in my heart and memory. I vividly recall the seductive scents and earthy notes of the trees, moss after the rain in the nearby wood, blooming yellow rapeseed, bushes of lilac, the soil being turned on the fields and the delightful hum of bees making local honey, all of which are second to none.
Sadly, when you go away from home to a high school and then to university (and live in a city after that), you tend to gradually leave all this natural beauty behind. Ever since I started spending more time back home, the Dégustateur loves it there too, I’ve felt a much happier and balanced person. I needed the nature back in my life and this enduring connection will always remain a part of me, of who I am. I’ll always be this girl who grew up in a Polish village, went to the local school, helped on the farm, spent every Friday afternoon after school on long walks in a park or along a back road through the fields of crops, or went ice skating on a frozen lake. Oh, how delightful it was to come home on a winter afternoon and be welcomed by an enticing smell of freshly baked cake, best eaten still warm, as ever. My very favourite cake, a tender memory of my childhood is drożdżówka, a pillowy yeast cake with fruit and crumbly topping, that every household will have its own recipe for. I call it sometimes a welcome cake because my brother and I would always find it upon our arrival for the weekends at home (a school routine for many years). We have always had particular preferences about this cake: to have it on the moist side, which was a rare occurrence, mostly when something went wrong and the cake didn’t raise. You may laugh now but it’s true. I love it when either sour cherries or plums are used for baking the drożdżówka. I’ve tried apricots and peaches, a good substitute, but still not my first choice. Somehow over the years my mother’s version of this cake has been leaning towards the dry side, which left me with eating it almost immediately straight from the oven or dunked into tea or a morning coffee. I’ve only started baking the drożdżówka on my own relatively recently. It was when we lived in Florence, and since we initially didn’t know anyone to share it with, I came up with a different recipe: for a smaller portion, more buttery and more moist. Then by trial and error, changing the ratio of the ingredients here and there I’ve found my perfect recipe, which includes natural yogurt (instead of milk). It helps the pillowy soft dough stay fresh for longer, but in Poland there was no need for it, we all ate it almost immediately when I baked it.

The first plums had just started to appear: deep purple in colour with firm yellow-green flesh and sweet, so the timing couldn’t have been better. My brother spent more time with us this summer, more than usually, and he loved “my drożdżówka“ so much, that I ended up baking it three times within one week. He actually assisted me once taking meticulous notes, perhaps he will bake it one day too. So far my mother has followed the recipe and sent me some pictures, from which I could see that it came out very well, so well that it also disappeared in almost no time, with the greatest contribution of my brother, who had it warm with a glass of milk – these things never change either. It was an unexpected family success which couldn’t make me any happier.

Prawn and Dill Frittata

Torta della Nonna

When it comes dinner preparations we take turns. We enjoy them on the terrace once the temperatures drop a little and are so pleasant that we just linger over a simple meal for a couple of hours or until dark. I always try to introduce something new. This year, apart from the plum yeast cake, I made us spaghetti tossed with a tomato and anchovy sauce, using different variations of tomatoes from my mother’s little orchard at the back of the house. My father hadn’t been a devoted pasta eater (contrary to his wife), but his habits have changed over the years and a few good pasta courses back in Italy.

Since my mother likes prawns I prepared a prawn and dill frittata, following a recipe from the late Russell Norman’s cook book “Venice”. Dill, which we all love, was such an unexpectedly pleasing surprise to me as I had always finished any seafood dish with the conventional parsley.

There was also Torta della Nonna, a custard and pine nut pie, a nostalgic nod to Rome, because it’s where I tried it for the first time and where I’ve had it most often.

As I’m finishing writing this post I can see through the window an elegant lady crossing our street. She is wearing a winter coat, not a fur coat, but still proper winter attire.
Well, next weekend my best friend comes over for a visit and she is bring some warmer weather with her. Something to look forward to!!

Drożdżówka

Rabbit in a Mustard and Tarragon Sauce

Calvados

Ten years ago we made a decision, we would leave London. Why and where?
Along with the Dègustatuer I had shared the same feelings and we mutually arrived to the same conclusions. We also wanted a change in our lives, for many reasons.

Where? We had become infatuated by the Luberon in the heart of Provence, to the point that we had started searching for a place for us there.

I had even enrolled myself on a short but intensive French language course, a) because my philosophy in life is to be able to speak the language of my potential future home, and b) because I had some spare time on my hands and on top of that I’ve always wanted to demystify the known fact that it is so difficult to learn the French language, or at least familiarise myself with the basics.

Well, the part a) has always been a firm stand out point in my approach to life and is still going strong, the b) part on the other hand, got slightly changed, as we simply changed our minds. We went to live in Italy Instead. To Rome.
You see, it all began with a wedding in Portofino which cleared all our doubts and any confusion. I also think that we perhaps had tried to persuade or convince ourselves into following the footsteps of most of the British people. The most common answer to the question (at the French language course) why are you studying the language was: I’d like to live in Provence and buy a house there.

Portofino is a stunning picturesque fishing village, with a small port and brightly colour-washed houses. It’s also a little concentration of the most stylish and elegant villas, a forever loved destination of the rich and famous. The views are breathtaking and you simply fall in love with the allure of the Italian riviera. And that was it for us. Three days in paradise and we knew that our hearts and souls were raising their sails to navigate in a different direction, Italy.

Daube de Boeuf à la Provencale

Remoulade – Style Potato Salad

Far Breton

Just to be clear and fully honest, France still casts its spell and charm over us and we visit whenever we can. We have driven from Italy to Bordeaux, Dordogne (I loved it there during winter), Alsace, Languedoc-Roussillon and very recently to Normandy. Also, our very favourite restaurant in London is “Joséphine”, a fairly recent opening. It’s a classic French and Lyonnaise speciality bistro that happened to be in our neighbourhood- so glad, with immaculate crisp white table clothes, half linen curtains at the windows, amber hued tulip chandeliers, elegant wood panelling paired with vintage posters. It’s so special (yet simple) that even the best critics admit: “A seriously wonderful restaurant”, “…..book it for the next available evening, then come back and read my whiffle if you can be bothered”, Giles Coren, The Sunday Times. Having mentioned “Josephine”, let me suggest another great French restaurant in London, an institution by now, “La Poule Au Pot”. It has a very alluring interior, with its intimate nooks and festoons of dried flowers, lots of candles and bric-à-brac. It has remained unchanged since the 60s, and we had had many long and cosy meals there in the past. You can find it in Belgravia, tucked in a corner of a romantic square among a handful of prestigious designer and antique shops, with lots of windows and a few outdoor tables, to watch the world go by.

When we moved into our little mews house in London – a temporary living situation, I found it hard to detach myself from Italian food and cooking. I had imagined the time here in London to be full of oriental and spicy cooking, a lot of cold water seafood (white crab meat we buy ever week), maybe some Spanish food, but above all – French. I must admit that it took me a long while to make the transition, perhaps I was cooking what I’m familiar with most, and when I found the right ingredients, they tasted like home to us. With time one can get used to almost anything, and in the same way I’ve opened myself to new cooking adventures. An excursion to Normandy has helped me enormously and enabled me to reacquaint myself with the produce, flavours, wine, with the delicious use of butter- mainly in baking, and with the “paysan” France.

Beef Bourguignon and Coq Au Vin, beef and chicken cooked in red wine respectively, had appeared on my blog many moons ago, and these recipes are perhaps best kept for the cooler days to come. Although the recent weather in England has been rather autumnal I refrained from cooking these dishes hoping for some summer warmth. But how much waiting is enough? How many cold days in May and June can make me feel angry? Not to mention about having to wear a jacket again. It is what it is however, and instead of getting annoyed, I made peace with the weather, which turned out to be a very productive and delicious period in our London kitchen. Every cloud has a silver lining!

I’ve made us A Provencal Style Beef Stew, with the flavours of the South of France: capers, anchovies, garlic and parsley. It pairs so well with a simple fresh ripe tomato salad, or a crisp green leaf salad. I’ve also baked us a Comte Cheese Soufflé on several occasions. I had found it daunting in the past, but as it turns out, for no reason whatsoever. I had been putting it away or simply forgetting about trying to bake it, and I’m a little annoyed with myself now for not doing it earlier. Somehow a sweet, chocolate or fruit soufflé is not that much of my cup of tea, The Dégustaur is not keen on them either, but a savoury soufflé is a revelation. I really like baking a generous – one pot soufflé, so everyone can help themselves when at the table, making it a very convivial meal.

Comté Cheese Soufflé

In both of the French restaurants mentioned above I’ve tried Rabbit in a Mustard and Tarragon Sauce. I had made an attempt at cooking rabbit that way myself, which at that time wasn’t a great success. A few years later, with some experience and by trial and error my culinary skills have improved, and I’ve just cooked us the best rabbit dish I can remember. It’s a simple dish to make, but there a few tricks and ingredients that make it superb. I’m also very happy at the moment because I can buy at my local butcher just the legs rather than the entire rabbit to be jointed, which is more fiddly to eat and to cook with. A little luxury I have here in London (the choice), but once we return to Italy I’ll be buying the whole rabbit again and cooking all the parts. I like my mustard-tarragon sauce to be slightly creamier than the traditional recipes indicate, just enough to pour it over boiled potatoes or to give a lovely coating to the cooked rabbit parts, enhancing their flavour and making them more appealing visually.

A Remoulade – Style Potato Salad has appeared on our table twice in one week. A trusted indication that it’s a good recipe, the one to keep. This potato salad is a wonderful addition to any summery, outdoor meal or a picnic. It pairs extremely well with pan fried or grilled fish, or with cold cuts of meat.

Since we came back from Normandy I’ve been baking a lot, more than I can remember. Butter, eggs and flour are on my shopping list almost daily and a loaf of brioche has become a weekly staple by now. I’ve tried and tested a recipe that works every time, I love the texture, flavour and we particularly enjoy a thick slice of it toasted, smothered with some melting butter and then topped with a bitter orange marmalade. Paris-Brest, not a full success yet but the flavours are wonderful, especially the filling made of vanilla crème patisserie whisked with a high quality hazelnut spread. I have to work on the pastry part, and make the filling slightly thicker (which means more butter or gelatine), a work in progress and I’ll only share the recipe once I’m fully happy with it.

Far Breton

What made us very happy recently was my “newer” version of Far Breton (the first recipe is still on the blog), I changed the proportions of the ingredients ever so slightly, added some vanilla and soaked the prunes in a generous amount or rum for far longer. Another step which helps with the batter is to warm up the milk before whisking it with all other ingredients. It’s a custard-like cake made of eggs, milk, flour and some beurre noisette. You just layer the prepared dish with the rum soaked prunes, gently pour the batter all over and bake until golden. Savouring it whilst still slightly warm is just heaven to eat.

As I write this post the weather has turned and it feels like summer again. There are cherries, strawberries, raspberries and apricots ladened on the kitchen table. When the fruit is ripe and at its best I like it on its own, just as it is, fresh and ripe, to savour it properly, especially when the season is so short. I follow the same philosophy with all the fruit, something we had discussed with Leo, “my” fruit vendor in Florence. We had talked about figs then and so when you are lucky to find at a market proper figs: ripe, sweet, soft and juicy, you don’t cook with them, you have them raw and enjoy every mouthful. Otherwise, of course, have fun baking and perhaps a clafoutis is the right answer to a lovely summer pudding, with figs or any other summer fruit.

Bon appétit

”Another time, but soon”- is what we said to each other when we postponed our little trip to Normandy during Easter this year.

It wasn’t long before we firmly agreed: ”it’s almost like a now or never situation; soon we may not even have enough time to go and if it rains-we’ll just take a rain coat and a pair of adequate boots”. The same evening we made and confirmed the reservations, booked the Channel Tunnel ticket and even the weather forecast looked promising.
Within a few days we finally departed on our little journey to the land of delicious apples and pears; to the land of cider and Calvados, to the vast lush and green landscape on which healthy looking cows are left to graze, producing a rich and much sought-after milk. Just think about the best tasting butter, soft cheeses, delicious milk and creamy fresh natural yogurt for breakfast- the best we’ve had in a long while.

We arrived in Honfleur, a charming harbour town, on a sunny Friday afternoon. The Dégustateur had chosen our accommodation and he did well. After we parked our car under an avenue of plane trees, we headed towards our guest house, unusually for us, as we are more hotel people. The house however, looked just lovely the minute we saw it, moreover, we were greeted by a true copy of Madame Duflot. If you’ve seen Ridley Scott’s „A Good Year”, you’ll immediately smile and remember the charismatic character of Ludivine, with the sweetest French accent. It’s a fabulous romantic comedy that I really recommend viewing. Warning! You may irreversibly fall in love with the Luberon part of Provence after having watched it.

Once we left our bags in the room we strolled to the harbour for a glass of cider (always dry for me) and to soak up the last rays of the warm afternoon sun. We spent the last hours of this glorious afternoon ambling back and forth along narrow streets, squares and corners, inquisitively looking at the menus of bistros end restaurants (we had asked “Madame Duflot” for some recommendations), we couldn’t resist the very appealing spice shops with all manner of salt and spice mixes piled high in neatly arranged containers. We stumbled upon a wine fair and a shop next to it, that felt just right to purchase (on the last day) a lovely bottle of aged artisan Calvados Pays d’Auge, to sip after a meal by candlelight back home.
Calvados is one of the “big three” French brandies along with Cognac and Armagnac.
Whilst its respective cousins are based on grapes, Calvados begins its life in the orchards of Normandy (in the form of apples and pears). It’s governed by three sets of overlapping AOC regulations (Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée) and each one of them has slightly different rules on the type of still that may be used and the proportion of apples and pears that can go into the mix. The Calvados AOC, for example, stretches over all Normandy and allows apples and pears to be used in any proportion.

We opted for Calvados Pays d’Auge, which covers an area just east of Caen, stretching from Deauville on the coast to about 30 km south of Lisieux, and the producers may use only 30 % of pears at most (as well as use only copper pots to distill their spirit). After having tasted a few brandies, we both agreed on the most fragrant and lesser known bottle of Calvados (aged for 6 years instead of 10 – as one would normally go for by rule of thumb).
We also purchased a couple of bottles of Calvados AOC to use for cooking and baking, something simpler with just 3 years of ageing.

Duck Parmantier & Le Lingot

Whilst we were taking a back ally leading to “our” townhouse, all of a sudden we came across a charming elegant restaurant, with perfect white tablecloths, aqua coloured checked windows and doors, which were left open as an invitation. Lots of hanging plants above the windows, tall candle sticks and historic images dotted on forest green walls. I had a positive strong feeling about “Le Lingot”, to the point that we swapped the reservation we had already made in order to be able to dine there. And the meal was truly amazing, exactly what we were both longing for: beautiful, traditional fresh produce (mainly foraged on the day) turned into a creative but not overly elaborated menu, accompanied by a bottle of Sancerre from the Loire Valley. We got invited to the kitchen to meet the chef and the team of just two, working very hard and proud. I’d go back to Honfleur just to eat at “Le Lingot” again.

Our late breakfast, after a couple of early morning coffees near the harbour, was a selection of brioches, canelés (a speciality from Bordeaux), kouign amann (a buttery layered pastry cake from neighbouring Brittany) and a punnet of fragrant strawberries from the Saturday market stretching across the entire historic part of the town. We love markets, correction: farmers’ markets, selling clothing or bed mattresses perhaps could be avoided, but c’est la vie! Going back to the food itself, it was a very authentic market with people coming to shop for the weekend. Despite the fact that Honfleur is both a national and foreign tourist destination, nobody was taking pictures at the market (except a few snaps taken my me). It’s just not a tourist attraction, you go there to shop.

The weather was beautiful and the sun was getting stronger and stronger. There is a gorgeous, cleverly designed park separating the town from the waterfront. Towards the end of that park leading to the beach, there is a pond. The pond has some water lilies, a little blue bridge and a line of trees around it, under which a couple of families were picnicking on the grass. The scene was so evocative of Monet. The beach itself is very wide and easy to walk on but not the prettiest. With no better plans we just walked along until we saw a beach front restaurant, a very happening place thronging with locals. We had a great lunch: oysters, a seafood platter, cold beer and we got some sun on our faces too, finally.

Deauville

After two nights in Honfleur we drove inland stopping in Deauville on the way. Deauville is a rather posh and pretty coastal town, very popular with Parisians for the weekends. It was Sunday, a market day in Deauville with a bustling happy atmosphere. We sat down for a coffee and a couple of waffles soaked in salted caramel, absolutely to die for. In Normandy you’ll see caramel everywhere: plain, salted, with Calvados or even cider. Pancakes are served at a later hour of the day with all the array of flavoured caramels to choose from. We had stayed in Deauville in the past and we both have very fond and tender memories of it. It had been during an autumnal weekend and it felt slightly more demure back then. A lot has changed over the years, the restaurant we wanted to go back to wasn’t the same anymore, so we settled on a portion of “Moules à la Crème” -with a creamy cider sauce- in a happening bistro, before driving to our next port of call, somewhere between the villages of Camembert and Livarot. Pays d’Auge is Normandy’s most emblematic verdant green area exuding rural charm. It’s here where the picturesque apple orchards meet historic towns, half-timbered manor houses and farm-fresh produce. The weather turned, the temperatures dropped and it started to drizzle. The earthy notes of nature had never smelt better.

Beuvron-en Auge&My Normandy Apple Tart

Duck Parmentier with Pipérade

On the fallowing morning we drove to a large local (food-only) market in the village of Saint-Pierre-sur-Dives. It was here where I bought 2 kg of glistening in the early spring sun white asparagus, 3 kg of fragrant and flavoursome chantecler apples (for baking and eating back home), some fresh cheeses, bread with figs and a cured ham from Sardinia for supper. After that we visited the quaint and quiet Beuvron-en Auge village. It started to rain quite heavily by then and luckily we found a cosy restaurant for a long lunch, with hearty traditional food eaten by the fire. It’s here where I tried a Duck Confit Parmentier, I imagine you could call it a duck confit pie, for the first time. Back in London I made my own version of it, alternating the duck confit meat with a Basque style stewed peppers spiced with pepper d’espellete. All covered with a layer of garlic and thyme potato puree, baked until slightly crisp and golden in colour. It is a great dish, easy to make, a sophisticated version of a crowd pleaser. The white asparagus I turned immediately into a velvety potage finished with some chives and a few pinches of pepper d’espellete. Steamed, both white and green asparagus, we truly enjoy alla Veneta, decorated with chopped boiled eggs, partially turned into a thick sauce along with olive oil and a splash of a good wine vinegar. The Calvados, which works wonders in the kitchen, I’ve been using for baking a whole Camembert cheese (also with honey and thyme) to be scooped out with hunks of fresh baguette and/or crunchy endive leaves. After our recent Normandy trip I baked us an apple, cinnamon, crème fraîche and Calvados tart, something I used to bake in the past, this time with the addition of cinnamon. So delightful, even when reheated!

“My crêpes au Calvados” drizzled with salted caramel or caramel au Calvados may actually become our regular treat for a spoiling lazy breakfast at home.

In a few words, our long weekend excursion to the continent couldn’t have been any more delicious !!

The weather forecast was showing grey or grey and rainy days for almost the entire week.

The week in which we had Easter and also it happened to be my birthday. Our initial intention was to go to the continent, as you say here in England, to Normandy to be precise. A trip we had been planning and plotting almost forever, but as it often happens in life, there has never been enough time, too far to go or the need to travel in the opposite direction. Being in London at the moment makes for a perfect opportunity; we just need to book the Channel Tunnel ticket, take the car and drive to France, not a lengthy distance for us this time. Unfortunately, the weather was going to be not exactly travel friendly not only in the UK. I believe almost the whole continent was under a bad spell over the Easter period. Subsequently, we didn’t go to Normandy. „Another time, but soon”, we said.

As it turned out, something that happens often here, the initial weather predictions were quite far off from the truth and we had a few beautiful and blissful days in London.

We had no plans for Easter, well, almost. You see, The Good Friday was also my birthday and the Dégustateur swiftly booked counter seats (our favourite – you can watch the chefs at work), at Zuma. A pair of heels and a dress on, a few glasses of rosé champagne by the bar first (it used the be a very happening bar and it still is) for a small toast, followed by the best Japanese food I believe there is in London at the moment. We live very close to Zuma but going there is always a spacial treat for us, most importantly because the food quality and its choice has not changed over the years and recent difficult moments for the hospitality industry.

Green Park & Smoked Haddock

When I arrived in London to our little house, a pied-à-terre to be precise, whilst cooking and preparing our evening meals I started putting Zucchero’s playlist on youtube, among a couple of other Italian artists. It would always cheer me up and the Dégustatuer soon became a fan of his. One evening when my hands were busy chopping and stirring in the kitchen I asked the Dégustateur to check for any upcoming concerts of Zucchero in Italy. He on the other hand replied: „Listen to this! He will be performing at The Royal Albert Hall for three evenings at the end of March, starting his world tour in London”. We kept that in mind and since we had said a definitive no to the Normandy trip we were lucky to get a pair of tickets to the concert. It was just perfect. After an early dinner at home we strolled to the venue. It didn’t rain and the atmosphere started to build up once we were approaching The Royal Albert Hall. All you could hear was the Italian language all around us.

We had a glass of champagne at the bar and the second one in our box (we treated it as my birthday weekend), and then we were just taken away by the great show that Zucchero and his team put on, with myself dancing almost the entire evening along with the rest of the public.

Oh!, I almost forgot: my birthday cake – Tarte Tropézienne – we got it from The Birley Bakery in Chelsea Green. They add an orange blossom water to it and it’s the best one I’ve ever had. It’s also sold per slice, really worthwhile paying a visit if you would like a real treat.

Cooking is my passion and I spend more time in the kitchen than in any other room. It’s where I try new recipes, cook again our firm favourites, where I flip through cook books (I also do it in bed before falling asleep) searching for something different to try, it’s where I have most of my conversations with the Dégustateur, over the dining table and by candle light- not because we are extremely romantic but because I really loathe the lighting we have in our rented house. My solution to the problem was to buy a few side lamps and lots of candlesticks. Subsequently the atmosphere over a meal is much nicer, calmer and yes, more romantic, plus everything and everybody looks better in a flickering soft candle light. Our kitchen is also the room with the poorest source of natural light, and if you know London a little, you will know what I intend to say. It’s also the reason why I almost never take any pictures in there. There will be a new place in the future and a new kitchen to come, something to look forward to.

I’d usually plan a day or two ahead what to cook, but this Easter, however, I left it to play by ear.
I decided just to go the shops and see what caught my eye. In London most of the grocery shops and food halls were open anyway, so why not take the advantage of it? For the Sunday late breakfast (after the concert) we had eggs with smoked haddock and chives. I was only poaching the haddock just after 11am, but that is what I truly love about slow mornings, which don’t happen that often. I made us a very simplified, nonetheless very comforting and delicious take on the Arnold Bennett omelette. In fact I prepared scrambled eggs with some flakes of poached smoked haddock (poached in milk with some garlic and bay leaf), crunchy baguette with lashings of good butter and lots of Earl Grey tea.

Thyme & Mustard Roast Poussin

We had a beautiful sun pouring through the dining and living room, the morning clouds burned off and we fancied a walk. We took the back streets along distinctive crescents and townhouses which are homes mainly to embassies or the super wealthy, who are hardly ever there, making the streets and pavements peaceful, slow paced and enjoyable to amble along. We reached Hyde Park Corner, passed along the newly opened Peninsula hotel and crossed towards Green Park. Glowing yellow daffodils, blue skies, verdant green grass, happy faces of passing crowds and very oddly, just a couple of squirrels around (they must have gone back into hibernation, it was rather bitterly cold before Easter) searching for food. We passed The Ritz and walked to the Fortnum & Mason food hall to buy more tea, and then to our favourite book store, Hatchards, right next to it.
I accidentally found a book that I hadn’t been able to trace a few years back: „A Month in Siena” by Hisham Matar. I’ve just finished reading it and in case you were thinking of getting a copy as well, it’s not a guided story describing daily life in Siena, but it’s a moving exploration of an impact of Sienese art on the author’s life and his grief over the loss of his father.

After I made my happy purchase we walked through St James’s passing Britain’s oldest wine & spirit merchant Berry Bros, where you could also have your wine stored, heading towards Pall Mall and from there through a sneaky passage back to Green Park. Just before returning home we stopped at our local pub „The Grenadier” (the images of it are in my previous post), we were finally able to stand outside, in the sun and sheltered from the wind, we watched the world go by, we had a little Guinness each and a few sausages with strong mustard, as you would often do in a pub. For a little while we’ve swapped a glass of wine for a small Guinness. È la vita!

This surprising and very welcomed change in weather dictated what I wanted to cook. Something nutritious, delicate but still with some character- a sun kissed proper dinner, eaten by candle light of course. We relished golden in colour mustard and thyme roast poussins, which I had marinated for half of the day. They were roasting snuggly in a baking dish surrounded by pre-cooked potatoes, which would gain a hint of mustard, garlic and thyme too. They were a dream served with a tomato, thinly sliced shallot and parsley salad (drizzled with a simple olive oil and vinegar dressing). And whilst the baby chickens were getting ready in the oven we nibbled on black olive and parmesan biscuits I had just baked, something very different to my usual repertoire and with all honesty – I regret not having baked them earlier, sipping a glass of wine. At home it’s always a bottle of wine, mostly red, Guinness I leave for an occasional visit to a pub. Salute !

La Pavoni

Banana Bread

As winter slowly draws to a close – the days are longer and warmer, the sun is still very shy but I can hear that whisper of Spring around the corner – I’ve found myself still holding onto cosy wintery cooking, as if I almost didn’t want to let it go and say goodbye properly. The truth is that I do want to let it go, but in London the winter lingers for a little longer, outside it’s grey more often than not, frequently overcast, little drizzle here and there, or it’s simply wet- that’s when I use the expression “it’s raining cats and dogs” most often. A couple of the past weeks however, have been surprisingly dry, but cloaked in a very silent, almost romantic haze and a gentle fog. The kind of weather I truly enjoy here in London because it’s different and atmospheric. It sets the tone and the pace of the day, of what I’d like to cook or bake for us, and how many milky coffees we feel like having.

I always start my day with a large coffee made in an iconic moka stove pot. That is when I have a little moment just for myself (I wake up earlier): freshly brewed coffee and a few pages of a good book that has been captivating almost my entire attention, or I’d open The Times newspaper on my phone app and play Italian news in the background, a good blend of both: news and languages.

After the first coffee I’d have my second one, and here is where a delicate variation might comes in to play: La Pavoni coffee maker. It’s all copper and it takes a while for the water in the chamber to reach the desirable temperature. So whilst sipping my first coffee and looking through the window at a still dark and slow morning, I press the switch button on, patiently leaving the coffee machine to get ready. The Dégustatuer would be up be then. He loves the coffees I make, which is still a work in progress, with lots of frothy milk, English weather style as I call them. We bought our La Pavoni coffee maker over a year ago for Christmas, choosing a slightly more complex model with two pressure bars. The second bar signalling the pressure at which I pull an espresso took me a while to feel comfortable with. Well, it only took exchanging the coffee machine once and eventually buying a La Pavoni coffee grinder (they are not the cheapest; one thing at a time), which made all the difference. Because of the practicality and the timing we don’t’ use our copper gem daily, instead, we make more of an event out of it. The coffee beans I usually bring from the Sant’ Esustachio coffee shop in Rome, which apart from the flavour is a sentimental affair for me. Each time when we are in Piedmont on the other hand, I get a bag of Caffe Vergnano 1882 beans, and in London I buy Harrods collection number 14. Iconic Fortum & Maison I save for a real spoiling treat.

Aside from improving my coffee making skills I’ve found myself baking brioche bread a lot recently. With all honesty it’s quick to make and all the kneading is done by the standing mixer. A thick toasted slice of a brioche loaf with melting butter on top and a bitter orange marmalade is just heaven for breakfast, and it tastes better, as certainly you can imagine, accompanied by a good coffee, especially on a slightly dark and peaceful morning.
Currently my plan is to test the brioche recipe with different kinds of flour to find the texture that pleases me the most. I shall keep you informed on my progress.

As of late The Dégustateur fairly often would mention to me how much he likes banana bread and that his late mother used to make a very good one. I think it’s so lovely to have these kind of memories of the loved ones that are no longer with us, and the food they used to make that surely was the best food in the world.

I had never had banana bread before, I hadn’t grown up with it and somehow it had never caught my attention in the past. Until now. Combining The Dégustateur’s sweet childhood memories and a recipe I accidentally stumbled upon on Instagram (a great joy of social media) I used exactly four ripe bananas that we had left to make a truly delicious and moist banana and walnut bread. I can unabashedly claim that this recipe is a triumph. It’s not mine, I found it on Cherie Denham’s Instagram account (click here) and I’m terribly tempted now to order her book “The Irish Bakery”.

Our local pub

There is almost no better place to cook with wonderfully thick and firm, gleaming with freshness cod fillets coming from the cold waters that surround England. To really appreciate and enjoy preparing cod for your meal, the fillets should be thick, and they will just flake apart when they are cooked. I’ve eaten so many variations of baked cod rolled in Parma ham accompanied by some lentils, or pan fried with spicy chorizo and beans, both ways so popular in the UK, but at home I wanted something different. I wanted to taste and smell fresh rosemary. I can still remember the sauce that accompanied a whole baked turbot we had at La Petite Maison in London almost five years ago. I remember its earthy notes of rosemary and the freshness deriving from lemons, and a mild punch of Dijon mustard. I also remember a hint of sweetness in that sauce, just enough to offset the lemon juice ever so slightly.

At home, for my cod fillets however, I want the sauce to be even more pronounced, I want the flavours to be slightly bigger and bolder, especially when the two are baked together rather than served separately.

There is a trick I’ve learned from watching Rick Stein cook: poach the fish or seafood first (for one or two minutes) before baking, it will prevent it from releasing too much water into the sauce. You could, of course, omit that step should you prefer or when rushed for time.

If you wish to make the baked cod in a rosemary, lemon and mustard sauce, prepare a copious amount of fragrant rosemary, a good lemon (not too sharp if possible) and two kinds of mustard: a whole grain and Dijon. Whisk it along with a few more of the ingredients, cover your cod fillet with the sauce and bake for about 20 minutes (full recipe here). We love it with some roast potatoes (with garlic and sage for example) and a fresh salad.

Scones with clotted cream and raspberry jam

There is one more recipe I’d love to share with you for something uniquely British: Scones.

Have them for breakfast or an afternoon tea. Traditionally they are eaten with jam and a clotted cream (a very thick cream). There has been an ongoing dispute about how you should eat scones: cream first topped with the jam or the the other way round? Butter or no butter? Personally I smear them with the cream first, and bake them with raisins. Apparently they should always be made with raisins. Eat them as you like, preferably still warm, they work extremely well with a raspberry or strawberry jam.

I’m also leaving you a few book recommendations that I’ve been enjoying recently (they all have an Italian theme) and you may find them of interest:

1. „Hemingway in Italy” by Richard Owen

2. „Italian Hours” by Henry James

3. „Venice: The Lion, the city and the water” by Cees Nooteboom

4. „Death at La Fenice” and „The Anonymous Venetian” by Donna Leon

Buon appetito,

Aleksandra xx