breakfast borscht

8 Jul

beetroot raspberry smoothie

There was a woman falling asleep on the metro today. Her head nodded slowly towards the shoulder of the man next to her until she would catch herself, then stumble again into sleep. At one point she leant over so far that you could see her name, ADELE, handwritten on the label of her brown dress. Her black, patent-leather shoes were coming apart a little at the seams.

That’s about how I feel in the mornings, even though I no longer leave with the first metro. Now I allow myself a full fifteen minutes to roll out of bed. Enough time to at least bring breakfast with me instead of relying on croissants. Most days that is a variation on a beetroot smoothie, in an attempt to balance out the inevitable charcuterie plate-rosé that is a Paris summer supper, on a terrasse or in a park. (Because of the heatwave – la canicule – that Parisians are so enjoying complaining about, a few of the biggest parks are going to be open all night on weekends, including les Buttes-Chaumont just up the hill. Which means no more park guardians with whistles peremptorily ordering us out mid-picnic. Which means more rosé! Less sleep!)

In the fridge, we normally have a packet of steamed beetroot, and raspberries in the freezer. Then whatever other fresh fruit and dairy lying around gets thrown in as well. Just the right balance of sweet/tart/earthy/creamy. I like to think of it as breakfast borscht, not least because the French way of pronouncing smoothie – smoo-zee – makes me a little twitchy. And it is a bright wake-me-up pink, cold and fresh enough to stop me nodding off in the metro.


Not really a recipe for a beetroot smoothie

serves 1

One small cooked beetroot. A handful of frozen raspberries. Something juicy (a ripe peach, half a peeled cucumber, a large chunk of watermelon). A few tablespoons yoghurt, fromage blanc or lait fermenté. A splash of apple juice or water to thin it to desired consistency. Blend in a large widemouth jar until smooth. Add straw and screw on lid for portable breakfast. Done.

chocolate-sesame truffles

10 Jun

chocolate sesame truffles

Pictured, two of my flatmate’s favourite things: healthy, ‘bio’ (organic) German products – nuts, seeds, muesli that she brings back from Berlin – and chocolate. Preferably the 74% cacao from our local supermarket. We have a never-ending supply of the bright green packets. Her desk normally consists of a laptop, papers, pens, books … chocolate. After a meal, dessert, coffee, she likes to eat one square of it. This intrigues me: I have never been a one-square kind of person. All, or none. But I am learning from her. In fact, when the chocolate is so dark and bitter, a little piece is just enough. Especially with an espresso, the perfect balance. These truffles made me think of her: tahini and sesame oil stand in for the butter in a classic ganache, giving them a seriously punchy flavour. I try to have one at a time.

(I am making my way through The Pastry Department recipe archive, one by one.)


Chocolate sesame truffles

from the pastry department – makes 30-50, depending on size

180g dark chocolate (65-75% cacao)

120g heavy / whipping cream (30-35% fat)

2g salt (a big pinch)

20g tahini

10g sesame oil

Chop the chocolate finely (can be done in a food processor). Heat the cream and salt until it starts to boil, then pour over the chocolate. Cover with plastic wrap, so that it is touching the surface of the mixture, and let stand for 3 minutes. This will allow the chocolate to melt gently without losing any liquid to evaporation. Remove plastic, squeezing out any remaining cream. Stir gently with a whisk until smooth then add the tahini and sesame oil. If it looks like it is starting to split, whisk in 1-2 tsp hot water, a teaspoon at a time.

To make the truffles you can pipe blobs of mixture onto a tray, refrigerate, and then roll them round; or pipe into small silicone candy moulds – mine are demi-spheres. Or you can pour the mixture into a flat, square, lightly greased tupperware.

Chill until fully set, then roll into balls, release from the silicone, or cut into squares, respectively. Toss in cocoa to coat. Keep refrigerated but allow them a few minutes to come to room temperature before eating. Should last for a week or so in the fridge. If you are not too greedy.

sourdough crumpets for one

14 May

sourdough crumpets for one

When I followed the link on Orangette’s rhubarb compote, I fell into a rabbit hole. I devoured the whole of The Pastry Department in one sitting, admiring its clean prose, tessellated pen and ink drawings and pure pastry chef geekery. Dana Cree’s recipes are from her restaurant, Blackbird, in Chicago, that I would now love to visit. They speak to the professional in their sophisticated flavour combinations, in her pared-down instructions. But they are inspiring to a home cook as well – that raw passion and intensity, the idea that you need to experiment, to taste and taste again. Reading through made me feel like a small child, allowed to eat at the grown-up table for the first time. Wide eyed and determined to live up to the trust placed in me. The list of components in the Blackbird crepes – chicory streusel, coffee mascarpone, teff crepes, rum bling, chocolate cremeux, and more – sounds like a challenge of the best kind.

I want to write to the younger version of myself, and tell her everything I’ve discovered along the way…. This blog is written for her, that wide eyed girl making the untethered leap into her first pastry chef position, and for anyone like her pushing forward into pastry careers of their own. – from the about page

It feels like discovering an Ottolenghi of desserts: when you want to make every recipe, right now, today, despite the long list of ingredients. A generous chef – who lists all of her formulas rather than keeping them secret – and one with a sense of humour. I especially liked the recipe for Mr Darcy’s sourdough crumpets. Since I have named my houseplants (Dorothy and Alfred) I am surprised it didn’t occur me to name my sourdough starter as she did hers. An English name for an English breakfast. And since I was on my way home from England with a stash of tea and crumpets, since I was wearing a Pride and Prejudice book necklace made by my adorable cousin, since I hate throwing away most of my starter if I am not baking bread when I feed it in the morning… it felt like fate.

(For this recipe, you will need to be cultivating a sourdough starter already. The upkeep is minimal: feed it flour and water every day or couple of days, leave it to bubble at room temperature. Put it the fridge when you go on holiday. Much easier than a kitten. If the promise of golden-brown, flavoursome sourdough loaves AND hot crumpets in the morning is not enough to convince you, then I don’t know what else to say. I am not enough of an expert to explain the whole process, certainly not as a codicil to a blogpost, but I can recommend the Tartine book with all its pictures as a good start.)

I haven’t opened the packet of shop crumpets. I have been experimenting with the Mr Darcy formula in the morning – bread flour or all purpose? do I need rings or will this heart shaped cutter do? how much butter? how thick? – and enjoying the freedom to play around. And the fresh, holey, chewy, butter-soaked crumpets, of course.


Sourdough crumpets

recipe adapted from the pastry department – she recommends you feed the starter after 6pm for morning crumpets. Approximately 12 hours before should be fine. She uses plain (all-purpose) flour for her starter but since I mainly use mine for bread otherwise, I use a bread flour. And 100g is the amount I normally throw away when I feed my small starter, leaving only a teaspoon or so behind.. So I’ve just carried on doing it this way. Feel free to scale up: just feed your starter double the night before. If you don’t have buttermilk in the fridge, just add a couple of drops of lemon juice/vinegar to whole milk and let it curdle for a few minutes. And I’ve used baking powder when out of soda. You can use biscuit cutters (heart-shaped or not!) instead of rings for the crumpets. Or if you do them freehand, they will be a little flatter but no less delicious. 

makes 2 large / 4 small crumpets

100g leftover sourdough starter

20g plain flour

20g buttermilk

2g baking soda (1/4 tsp)

1g salt (a pinch)

Whisk all ingredients together and let stand for 30 minutes. Heat up a large flat frying pan, medium heat. It shouldn’t be so hot that the butter burns. If you are using rings, heat them up with the pan. Add a little butter to the middle of each ring. Whisk mixture one more time and tip into a piping bag. When the butter is sizzling, pipe (or spoon) mixture into the rings so they are about 1cm thick. Bubbles will form and the top will set. Keep an eye on them so the bottom doesn’t brown too fast. Eat immediately with butter and flaky salt, or save for toasting later.

guillaume’s gazpacho

25 Apr


My favourite kinds of recipes are the ones that are handwritten, folded neatly into squares and maybe lost at the bottom of a handbag for a while. Or written in a travel notebook to be made on returning, to bring a bit of the holiday sunshine home.

Even though it was a grey, cool Sunday, I really wanted to make the gazpacho recipe I have been carrying around, neatly written out on French graph paper. I had been warned that it needed at least 12 hours if not 24 to marinate, and was curious to see what difference that made. And we were going to have a long, rich, foie gras filled lunch out. So in the morning, I roughly chopped all of the ingredients and left them in the fridge to soften and meld and intensify. It looked remarkably like panzanella, one of my favourite summer dishes – tomatoes, bread, herbs, oil and vinegar, bread to soak up all the juices – that I wondered if I would blend it after all. The ingredients are so simple that you will have to trust me, the way I trusted my colleague Guillaume, that the sum is greater than its parts.

Most important are good tomatoes, which are popping up at the markets again. The ones that seem to be barely held in their own skins, they are so juicy. The final stall at the end of my street market had the most attractive coeur de boeuf, with those satiny grooves in their flesh. We had jugs of herbs – one euro for three bunches – decorating our new yellow kitchen. And there is always at least half a baguette going stale on the second shelf, just out of reach of the cat. (She will eat everything she can get her claws into, anything we forget to guard for a minute or two, including hummus, brioche and macarons. Sometimes she just likes to puncture bags of flour to watch it stream out and pool on the floor.) Everything ready for a gazpacho.

After a day in the fridge, after blending, the garlic lost its bite, the bread absorbed the oil and tomato juice. The fresh tomatoes, peppers and cucumber kept the spark and verve of almost-summer. For a cold soup, it had real body. And yet it was remarkably comforting, easy to eat at the end of a long day, even if not boiling hot outside. And a few simple, crunchy toppings – garlic croutons, herbs, cucumber – allow people to customise their own gazpacho bowl.


Guillaume’s Gazpacho

Do buy the nicest, ripest tomatoes you can find. Coeur de boeuf, or beef heartare full of flavour. The recipe is minimal effort, maximum patience: chop everything and then let marinate for up to 24 hours. Trust that your evening self will be grateful for your preparation the previous night, or morning. If I am making a half-batch for one or two people, everything just fits into the food processor bowl which goes in the fridge. One less bowl to wash up.

makes enough for 4 as a main course, 6 as a starter

4 large beefheart tomatoes (about 800g)

2 large red peppers

1 large cucumber

2 fat cloves garlic

half a stale baguette (or 150g white bread)

80ml (1/3 cup) olive oil

40ml (2 1/2 tbs) balsamic vinegar

salt, pepper

(optional: generous handful of fresh herbs like basil or parsley)

to serve:

more stale bread / olive oil / garlic clove

seeds (sunflower, pumpkin)

cucumber / avocado

fresh herbs

Peel the cucumber, and roughly chop it and the tomatoes and peppers. Cut or tear the bread into cubes. Finely mince the garlic. Toss it all with the oil, vinegar and herbs. Season with the salt and pepper. Leave to rest for 12-24 hours in the fridge.

Blend in batches with a food processor or blender, adding a little water to thin it out – between 125-250ml (1/2 – 1 cup). If you want it really cold on a hot day, you can add ice cubes instead. Check the seasoning and consistency as you go: some like a very smooth soup, I like a little texture.

For the toppings: cube any leftover stale bread and gently fry in olive oil with a whole clove of garlic until crisp and brown. Or toast some seeds with oil and some chilli pepper. Dice some cucumber and/or avocado. Finely chop some herbs (parsley, chives, coriander) or tear up some basil.

Ladle the gazpacho into bowls and add a drizzle of olive oil on top. Serve with a selection of toppings in little dishes so that everyone can add their own.

leftovers (15.04.15)

15 Apr

Recent leftovers include:

Young, thin asparagus stems boiled with salt and lemon, blended with mashed potato and parsley. Instant spring soup, inspired by Tamar Adler’s An Everlasting Meal. One courgette and the end of some goat’s cheese: transformed into savoury crepes: courgette grated and sautéed with butter and garlic, folded into a double layer of crepes with cheese and a fried egg, gently rewarmed to melt the cheese. Extra batter was pancaked and flambéed with the rest of some Bourbon lying around. Small risk of lost eyebrows only added to the flavour!

Cooked red lentils flavoured with chipotle, heated with a can of tomatoes, four eggs cracked into the frying pan to cook until the whites solidified, the yolks still runny. Stale baguette transformed into croutons with butter and olive oil.


I cannot stop listening to the Dear Sugars. Not edible sweeteners. Food for the soul. I loved the Valentine’s Day episode, in which they referenced the Pina Colada song. Reading: Delizia! A history of Italian cooking in all its regionality. And the Confessions of a Comma Addict.

Gourmand-WinnerBoasting: our guidebook, A Pocket Feast Paris has won the UK category for French Cuisine in the Gourmand World Cookbook Awards 2015. Which means we are now finalists in the global awards to be presented in China. Get your copy online or at the Shakespeare and Company bookshop in Paris! And my essay Kitchen Rhythm has been republished by Longreads, if you would care for a longer piece about Parisian patisseries and Japanese chefs as well as odds and ends of learning and linguistics.

rich and luscious dark chocolate cream-cheese frosting

10 Apr

rich luscious dark chocolate cream cheese frosting

The three year old son of one of my friends has an active imagination and a very gourmand palate. When asked, how was nursery school, he will say: “Today I built a coffee machine” or “I took the night train to Copenhagen.” And once: “I cooked polenta with tomatoes and parsley. And calamari.” Which sounds perfectly delicious.

Sometimes I am lucky enough to have that kind of free, three-year-old inspiration. This week I built a blanket fort and made a cake. On separate days. Both were even better than I imagined they would be: first I was cocooned in a warm glow of blankets with cups of tea and a kitten, no screens, it felt like an escape in my own flat. And then the idea for a cake just came to me in all its disparate elements. A British friend’s birthday prompted something with Earl Grey, something light and delicate. Then a student came for a macaron class and showed me a beautiful picture of a cake with a whole cheesecake between the two layers instead of frosting. The sheer audacity of this meant I had to try it. Luckily, I already had both an Earl Grey cake and a simple cheesecake in my archives. The former is a light genoise, with only a touch of butter. Thinking of Earl Grey and chocolate macarons, i wanted a frosting that would not overwhelm but complement the delicate citrus-tea layers. With real dark chocolate AND cocoa, and cream cheese for a creamy, slightly salty edge. Made in a food processor it was incredibly smooth and delicious – a substantial afternoon snack for the baker. Me. It was better than my imagination.

For an Earl Grey-citrus-chocolate cheesecake-cake you will need:

One Earl Grey cake, from Fanny Zanotti

One basic cheesecake recipe  no crust: whisk together 450g cream cheese, mascarpone or ricotta, 150g sugar, 4 eggs + zest of one lemon + tea from 2-4 Earl Grey teabags

One quantity rich and dark and luscious chocolate cream-cheese icing, see below

Simple syrup made of 100g water, 100g sugar and one teabag. Boil everything and let cool with the teabag still in.

For the tea: either cut the fine tea out of teabags or blend proper tealeaves in a food processor with the sugar in the recipe. Line two 22cm round tins with baking paper. Bake cake in one and cheesecake in the other, let cool. Slice the cake into two layers, evening up the top if not totally flat. I like to flip the cake over and use the bottom of the cake as the top layer since it is the most even. Lightly brush one layer of cake with syrup. Top with cheesecake, then second layer of cake. Brush with more syrup. (You won’t need to use it all. Save the rest for cocktails.) Ice with chocolate frosting. If you are very meticulous, start with a crumb layer: spread a very thin layer all over first, then refrigerate for 20 minutes. This is supposed to stop crumbs from getting into the final layer. Then carry on frosting. You can do it in an artfully messy way, a la Smitten Kitchen, or neat and smooth with piped rosettes on top.

Rich and luscious dark chocolate cream-cheese frosting

adapted from wickedgoodkitchen: I reduced the sugar and halved the original recipe. It still makes enough to ice and decorate the outside of a 22-24cm round cake – multiply by 1.5 if you want a thick layer of frosting between layers as well.

65g dark chocolate (60-70% cacao content)

115g unsalted butter

115g cream cheese

30g cocoa

180g icing sugar

Make sure the butter and cream cheese are both room temperature. Chop chocolate and melt over a bain-marie or in a microwave (careful not to let it get too hot or it will go grainy). Let it cool a little. Blend the soft butter in a food processor with a blade until smooth. Add the cream cheese and blend again. Sift the cocoa and icing sugar together. Add about half to the food processor, blend, add melted chocolate (cooled but still fluid), and blend again. Scrape the sides, tip in the rest of the icing sugar/cocoa and blend one last time. It should be beautifully smooth and shiny.

To ice the cake: smooth icing around the sides first, then over the top. Use any leftovers to pipe swirls on top. If you want contrasting swirls, mix a dollop of cream cheese with some remaining icing and alternate dark and light chocolate.

Icing refrigerated really well, staying nice and soft. No tests yet on how long it keeps. Cake was demolished in about ten minutes.

matcha / goma pannacotta

4 Apr


Scan 6

To continue my Japanese love affair: an easy dessert to go with the black sesame shortbread. Originally inspired by my favourite dessert at Nanashi Bento, light, delicious, still a little jiggly. They serve it with a few blueberries and some whipped cream.

Matcha is a very fine green tea powder, used for the tea ceremony. Goma is black sesame. Make either or both. If you are particularly cunning, you could make two layers: make one batch of matcha, divide between 8 glasses, refrigerate to set, then pour a batch of goma on top. I prefer the texture of gelatine, but for vegetarians/vegans, agar-agar works too.

For a quick guide on how to gel absolutely anything, check out Bompas and Parr’s guide to jelly. They even made a jellied Christmas dinner. Though their method is slightly different to mine below, their principles and the conversion chart are excellent.

Matcha / goma pannacotta

makes 4 medium or 6 small

400ml coconut milk (or 1 tin)

30g honey or maple syrup

3 tsp matcha OR 30g black sesame paste

**3-4g leaf gelatine OR 2g agar agar (1 packet)

Heat half the coconut milk and the honey in a small saucepan.

If using gelatine, soak the leaves in a bowl of cold water. When it is soft, drain off all the water. When the coconut milk feels warm, but not so hot that it will burn your hand, add gelatine and stir to melt. (Above 60C and the gelatine will not set properly.)

If using agar agar, sprinkle the powder over the coconut milk before you heat it up. Bring to a simmer and cook, stirring, for about 3 minutes.

Use the other half of the coconut milk to dilute the matcha powder or sesame paste, adding a little liquid at a time until smooth. You can do this by shaking it in a little jar, whisking it, or in a blender.

Once the heated coconut milk and gelatine/agar agar is ready, combine with the matcha / goma. Whisk or blend to combine well.

Pour into 4-6 glasses and refrigerate for 2-3 hours. To speed up the process, carefully place glasses in the freezer until the liquid sets.

Serve with fresh fruit, like persimmon or raspberries, some whipped cream and a drizzle of honey.


**If you want to unmold your pannacotta, use 4g leaf gelatine and lightly grease the glasses with a neutral oil. If they do not slide out easily, dip the bottom of the glasses in hot water to loosen them. If you plan on serving in the glasses, 3g should suffice for a delicately wobbly texture. For most gelatine found in supermarkets, 1 leaf = 1g.

diana henry’s japanese garlic and ginger chicken with smashed cucumber

31 Mar

Scan 5

More cookbooks! Disaster. The latest addition to my collection has not yet been added to the shelf. It lives on my sofa and I open it at random for inspiration. Let’s see:

“Beluga lentil, roast grape and red chicory salad.” Intriguing, roast grapes. An Autumn recipe in hues of violet and red. Let’s aim for Spring:

“Butterflied leg of lamb with sekenjabin.” With what? Oooh, a “Persian mint syrup.” Best with flatbread or couscous and broadbeans. Mmm. Turn the page:

“Chocolate and rosemary sorbet” on the same leaf as “Grapefruit and mint sorbet.” All of my favourite flavours!

A Change of Appetite: where healthy meets delicious is an adventure in flavour, an exploration of healthy food without austerity or preaching. It is a fresh and beautiful cookbook. There are whole seasons full of recipes, with intermittent pages of musings on grains, proper lunches, the Japanese philosophy in food. I’m afraid to say the piece on calories rang unfortunately true: eat 500 calories chocolate, skip dinner. Works out even right? Not really.

As a pastry chef, I find it hard to condone dieting. (I’d be out of a job.) And I don’t believe abstention or detoxes work long-term. But too much sugar does have an effect on my body and my mood.

Henry doesn’t ask you to diet either. Just to take a little more care, add a few more green leaves and prepare meals with tons of flavour, inspired by Japan or Iran or Bulgaria. The healthy aspect works because the recipes really pique my appetite. And Ottolenghi’s apparently; his stamp of approval is on the front cover.

The ginger and garlic chicken I served at a dinner the other day was sharp and savoury and mouthwatering. Even with the chicken all eaten, the sauce was so good my guests took more wild rice just to soak it up. The cucumber with ginger has real character too, the rare occasion when cucumber has a starring role. It was all light and fresh and just enough. Satisfying.

I have to admit that we did have a first course of eggs and spinach, and later a cheese course with three cheeses and fresh salted butter then dessert. But, France. We had modest portions of each and still didn’t feel like we had to roll home afterwards.

The garlic-ginger chicken is going into regular rotation. (Using the grated and frozen ginger leftover from my homemade ginger juice.) In fact I am going to marinate individual portions in zip-lock bags and freeze them. Then in the morning I can defrost one bag or several in the fridge, ready to bake at suppertime. Virtuous ready-meals!

Next on the list: “Spelt and oat porridge with pomegranates and pistachios.” Wish it was breakfast time already.


Diana Henry’s Japanese Garlic and Ginger Chicken with smashed cucumber

from A Change of Appetite

serves 4

8 chicken thighs (bone-in) or 4 whole chicken legs

3 1/2 tbs soy sauce

3 tbs sake or dry sherry (or in a pinch, white wine)

3 tbs dark brown sugar

1/2 tbs brown/red miso

60g fresh ginger, peeled and grated

4 garlic cloves, crushed or grated

1 tsp togarashi seasoning (or 1/2 tsp chili powder)

Smashed cucumber:

500g cucumber

2 garlic cloves, chopped

2 tsp sea salt

2 tbs pink pickled ginger, finely chopped

handful of shiso leaves, torn up (or mint)

Mix together marinade ingredients. If baking that day, preheat oven to 200C, arrange chicken in a baking dish in a single layer and pour over marinade. Let sit for at least 20 minutes while oven preheats (or a few hours in the fridge). If not, put chicken pieces in a zip-lock bag (or several), divide the marinade between them and freeze.

Bake chicken for 30-40 minutes depending on size of pieces, basting with marinade halfway. To check if the chicken legs are fully cooked, stab with a sharp knife and see if the juices run clear. If they are a little pink, carry on cooking.

Meanwhile, peel and de-seed the cucumber. Chop roughly. Put cucumber, garlic and salt in a zip-lock bag and bash it a few times with a rolling pin. This step can be done on a chopping board but is much more messy. Refrigerate until chicken is ready. Drain of any liquid and serve the cucumber topped with finely sliced pickled ginger and shiso (or mint).

jennifer mclagan’s radicchio pie

17 Feb

radicchio pie

Bitter is a recurrent theme here: grapefruit, endive, caramel… The other day in fact I took a jar of grapefruit juice, hot water and honey onto the metro: handwarmer and homemade cold cure. So I was overjoyed to receive the book ‘Bitter‘ for Christmas, with its elegant grey cardoon leaves on the cover. (I also love grey: poppy seeds, black sesame desserts…) Jennifer McLagan peppers her cookbook with poetry, quotations and thoughtful essays on taste and flavour. I especially liked her discussion on the word itself, bitter, one that doesn’t have enough synonyms when it comes to writing about food. The Japanese word, shibui,she writes, means a kind of tangy bitterness. A quick thesaurus search in English gives ‘harsh, sour, acid, astringent, tart’ in that order, none particularly appetising except perhaps the last. (Yesterday I had to teach French flatmate that it was acceptable ‘to get tarted up’ but not to be a tart. In French the quiche gets the dubious honour of comestible-used-as-an-insult. Etre une quiche means to be an idiot.)

radicchio leaves

I have bookmarked the Seville orange and whiskey marmalade and the homemade tonic water; I approved of the grapefruit and Campari sorbet (one of my favourite cocktails). I was intrigued by the beer jelly, made in ice-cube trays to serve a piece or two with rich, fatty starters like smoked pepper mackerel. And straightaway, I bought some radicchio for her savoury tart with prosciutto, fontina and a hint of ginger. It should have had lard in the pie-crust but in typical French fashion the butchers at the market first asked about our intentions, and then refused to sell it to us since it was the wrong kind for pastry. And no, we couldn’t try it anyway. A substitute of butter and a little duck fat, always on hand in the south of France, was more than acceptable. The pie was delicious straight out of the oven, a complex bitter taste, the wilted radicchio with melted cheese and crisp pastry. (Served with a salad of Belgian endives, of course.) And it was even better the next day as a snack by the fire, with a glass of Campari and apple juice.

radicchio half

Jennifer McLagan’s Radicchio Pie

serves 4 as a light lunch with salad

250g plain flour

3/4 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

125g cold butter or leaf lard

75ml cold water


75g fatty prosciutto or pancetta

400g radicchio

1 leek

1 tbs balsamic vinegar

2 tsp grated fresh ginger

1 1/2 tsp salt

a few generous grinds pepper

125g Fontina or mozzarella cheese, grated

1 egg

2 tbs fine breadcrumbs

Dice the cold fat (butter or lard) and rub it into the flour, baking powder and salt until the flakes of butter are no bigger than peas. (You can do this step in the food processor.) Stir in the cold water and bring the pastry together into a ball with your hands. Wrap in clingfilm, flatten into a square and chill, in the fridge for at least 30 minutes or in the freezer for 10.

Roughly chop the prosciutto or pancetta and cook in a large frying pan for 2 minutes while you chop the radicchio and leek. Add them to the pan and cook on high heat for 3-5 minutes to wilt the vegetables. Stir in the grated ginger, salt, pepper and balsamic and tip out onto a plate or tray to cool.

Preheat oven to 180C.

Roll the pastry out into a large rectangle, approx 30x40cm. Slice in half, but so that one rectangle is slightly wider than the other (approx 19 and 21cm). Place smaller rectangle on a baking sheet lined with baking paper and brush some egg around the pastry in a 2cm border. Sprinkle the breadcrumbs all over the pastry apart from the egg.

Gently squeeze any extra liquid out of the cooled radicchio. Stir in the grated cheese. Spread the radicchio over the breadcrumbs, then carefully roll the second rectangle of pastry over the top. Press down around the edges with your fingertips, then use a fork to mark the border. If you have any scraps of pastry, cut out some leaves or designs to go on top. Egg wash all over and prick the top a few times with a sharp knife to let out any steam.

Bake for 30-35 minutes until nice and golden, crisp and shiny. Serve warm – also great reheated the next day.

leftovers (07.02.2015)

7 Feb


Eating: leftover mashed pumpkin served on buckwheat galettes, with onion jam and a fried egg.

Baking: the sourdough croissants from the first Tartine, beautifully puffed up and with a complex flavour.

Just finished reading Garlic and Sapphires, Ruth Reichl’s story of disguise and intrigue and truffles. (About her time as the NY TImes food critic!)

Watching the Science of cookies, whimsically animated.

Ogling this Lucky Peach cover.

Testing and writing about the best hot drinks (not coffee) in north Paris.

Waving HELLO to all the people that have visited my corner of the internet since being Freshly Pressed. HI WELCOME THANK-YOU!

…where I discovered these urban sketches of San Francisco.

Speaking of which, I am off to San Francisco for a long holiday, with a list of bakeries and pastries to try – any recommendations?


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