Matthew's Lemon Tart

I had bookmarked this from Matthew Fort ages ago because it sounded just my sort of thing. And it sounded easy. The family turned up for a couple of impromptu barbecues last weekend. The weather has been so terrible this year that I think impromptu is probably the only way to go. It is the 15th of May today and it is raining again. It had all better stop for the Diamond Jubilee and the London Olympics. And it would be nice if it was dry for the First Test against the Windies which starts at Lord's this week. My cooking fairy had obviously been on a bender on Saturday night because everything I touched whilst making this pie went wrong. I made bad decisions throughout. I did not have a metal flan tin. I don't know why because I used to have several. They may have gone rusty and been thrown out when I had the new kitchen. Or maybe the cooking fairy hid them somewhere last night. So I had to use a ceramic dish and knew that the pastry needed to be baked blind if so. Wrong. It tasted like cardboard. But it was defrosted (homemade) shortcrust and I'm not sure how long it had been in the freezer. I also managed to set the fan oven too low. Heaven knows an electric to fan conversion is easy enough but apparently not. So after half an hour it still looked pale, yellow and soggy. Needless to say I then overcompensated. The filling sank, defeated.

But here's the funny thing. It tasted bloody gorgeous. Like a cross between a lemon meringue pie and a treacle tart. I shall buy myself a new flan tin before I make it again though. Chris's only comment was "Whatever have you done to this pastry"? And I promise you I wrote this in neat paragraphs. No, I don't know where they've gone either. Must be that fairy again.

Cheesecake (2)

This recipe was given to me by Sue at Mainly Baking. It's a Gordon Ramsay one which was published, I think, in The Times but I can't find it online. For the base I used 8 ounces of mashed digestives with 4 ozs of butter, that being suggested by Shirley for cheesecake number 3. Filling - process 500g cream cheese and 200g caster sugar for 2-3 minutes. Add 3 eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add 2 tablespoons cornflour, 300g sour cream, and 1 teaspoon vanilla extract. Process 30 seconds to combine. The mixture looked fab when it went into the oven.

Pour filling into tin and bake for 1 hour (130 in my fan oven). Should be well-risen, slightly firm and golden brown. Turn off oven and cool cheesecake in oven with door open. Refrigerate when completely cool. Now I don't know quite what went wrong but it also looked great when it was baked, although not golden brown. But it looked like this once it was cooled. I guess that was always a risk if a bain-marie isn't being used but I would have not expected it to carry on cooking once it was cooling. Memo to self: Don't cool it in the oven next time!

Taste-wise it was a bit bland. Next time I will substitute lemon juice for vanilla. The texture was very good. 6/10

Lunch at Quo Vadis

It is the Easter holidays and so it is time for another lunch with Liz. Except that she isn't on holiday. She has retired this time and I hate her. We decided ages ago to go to the Lucian Freud exhibition at the Portrait Gallery but could only get tickets for 4 pm. So, long lunch and then go, or view exhibition and dine early evening? We chose the former. Next time we'll do the latter. The problem is that it was such a very good lunch and we just wanted to doze afterwards, despite alcohol not being involved. Quo Vadis has been in Dean Street, Soho for many years. Now it has had a revamp and chef Jeremy Lee is the new resident man in the kitchen. This was enough to tempt me without even looking at the menu. Foodycat and I had seen him having lunch when we first dined at Le Café Anglais and in fact Quo Vadis is very similar is style and decor to that institution. The restaurant is a series of small rooms but because of all the glass around it feels spacious and airy like one large room. On arrival you are greeted by a sensational display of fruit and flowers - Amalfi lemons and Seville oranges this time since you ask.

We were seated in the furthest corner which meant we walked through 2, or was it 3, bright and welcoming rooms with lovely stained-glass windows. That doesn't mean in a cathedrally way, more an Art Deco way. Behind Liz was what in some of the chick-lit novels I've read is called a "booth", in fact a smaller room with just the one table. I was pleased to see Heston Blumenthal making his way towards it. Fortunately before I managed to excite Liz by telling her so I realised my mistake. It was journalist and restaurant critic Toby Young. I am not very good at sorting out famous people be they bald or not but at least I knew he wasn't Gregg Wallace or Yul Brynner. He was joined later by a young man who also looked like a journalist but could equally be someone quite different. I did not want to talk to Mr Young. His setting up of a Free School in nearby Ealing does not please me.

Because Liz was on a retirement splurge we decided not to stint ourselves by going with the (very attractive) pre-theatre menu (available all day and a steal at £20 for 3 courses), but go the whole hog and eat exactly what we fancied. Our first treat was a delicious cranberry and orange juice cocktail.

We both wanted all of the starters. Liz settled for crab with a light, luscious, lemony mayo, and I had the patés and pickles. One paté was dense, meaty and gobsmackingly good, the other was rillette-like and very bland. I don't know what it is about me and rillettes. I want to like them but they invariably disappoint. Special mention here must be made of the pickled prunes, pickled walnut and cornichon accompaniments. Just perfect.

Our mains chose themselves. I am a steak and chips girl at heart and the wonderfully deep-flavoured onglet did not disappoint. The fat had been studded with peppercorns which would have been an issue for my husband had he been with us but that is principally why we usually leave him behind on these occasions. The chips were large, feathery and quite outstanding

Liz's Braised kid with peas and wild garlic was also a triumph and we both tried very hard not to think of the baby goats at the petting farm just up the road from her house. The kid was truly melt-in-the-mouth, cliché though that is.

We chose the one pudding that didn't mention cream in the title, and of course it was covered in the stuff. Poor Liz. But she is used to it and gamely scraped most of it off. The Walnut meringue was near perfect but not as good as the rhubarb sorbet, and I want the recipes.

With tea, coffee and service the bill came to £93. Not cheap but, as previously mentioned, you can dine well there for much less. I will be back. Please join me.

Cheesecake (1)

My family are big on cheesecake but not as big as I am. Felicity Cloake recently used the cheescake as one of her "Perfect" investigations and it has inspired me to try a few of my own. Today I decided to make the one she declared the best. Felicity's perfect cheesecake.

We started off well. I had the correct size tin and I had all the ingredients in bar the cheese and the sour cream. Once mixed and in the tin I was pleased with it.

When cooked, cooled in the oven and released from the tin the cheesecake was also "pleasing". The top had not cracked despite there being no bain-marie.

The problem came when I transferred it to the fridge. It kind of sighed and tried to escape over the edge of the plate. It had looked set, it obviously wasn't quite. Why? No idea. Here is the finished, not attractive, article.

Taste-wise it was fine according to the crew, and they quite liked the texture but there was one main criticism and I reckon that was totally down to Felicity. Unanimously they declared that the base was too thin and there just wasn't enough of it.

5/10

A photo-free lunch

It's half term - the last for Liz who retires at Easter - and a trip to the Hockney at the RA was booked. It was a fabulous exhibition and, after my disappointment with the Leonardo, restored my faith in the people who create these things. I want to go again. But I shan't because I won't have time to queue and neither will I be organised enough to book any of the extra tickets that have recently come online.

Afterwards we adjourned first to Fortnum and Mason as Liz had birthday presents to buy. Diamond Jubilee food goodies fitted the bill, and we then strolled Ritz-ward along Piccadilly.

The Wolseley is on the opposite corner of Arlington Street to The Ritz so although it is pretty posh it isn't really posh enough to compete. Photography is banned and I am presuming that this is because it is a self-styled celebrity haunt. Certainly they enforce the no-photography rule which is good to see. A couple of people were prevented from taking pictures whilst we were there although the only celebrity we spotted was Melvyn Bragg who these days doesn't exactly fill the gossip columns. Liz and I, it has to be said, are not the best people to be on a "rich and famous" hunt. There were 2 men who kept their hats on throughout lunch. She thought one was a ballet dancer and I surmised that the other could have been Terry Pratchett. I suspect we were both way off the mark. What is without question is that The Wolseley is the best place ever for people-watching.

It is a very bustly restaurant with everyone rushing around looking awfully important. The food was very good but I was a little disappointed that it wasn't exceptional. It was not, for example, as good as Les Deux Salons, with the exception of the puddings.

Liz began with a  mixed beetroot salad which was fresh, spiky and refreshing. She followed this with 7 hour baked lamb which in her words "was unexceptional". She loved her dessert, a slightly enormous "petit pot de chocolat".

I opened with delicately fried whitebait with an artfully executed tartare sauce. the capers had just the right amount of crunchiness. This was followed by a  medium-rare rib steak which was excellent as were the skinny fries - the gem salad was a little greasy. My ice cream coupe was the star for me - pistachio and nougat ice creams with hazelnuts and a butterscotch sauce. Just the thing for someone who's been on a diet since last September.

Liz had a glass of Corbieres,  I stuck to mineral water (notification of my sainthood must be stuck in the post). With a decaff coffee (GQS take note) the bill including service was £112.

It has to be said that the service which was friendly was also fairly slow and more than a tad haphazard. It didn't matter though as it was such fun eyeing everyone up.

Next time I go I will make a point of going either for breakfast or afternoon tea.

Lunch at Great Queen Street

I'm going to begin this blog with A Big Moan. I am very caffeine-intolerant. Twice I have been hospitalised after smallish doses. The effects are not pretty and very scary. I used to be a big coffee-lover but have had to wean myself off, and I succumb only to the occasional decaff if I really fancy that coffee taste. So when, after a fabulous meal, I am told by an embarrassed waiter that the chef "refuses to have decaff on the premises and suggests a herbal tea instead" then I think you may excuse me feeling more than a little miffed.

"Chef" needs to inspect his back passage. Nuff said.

I have not been to GQS for a good couple of years but Liz and I were at the National Gallery and so in the vicinity. (Both hugely disappointed in the much-hyped Da Vinci exhibition by the way)! I booked it because we had done Les Deux Salons to death and needed to be sure of a good lunch.

I don't know who Alexander is but the butter in my artichoke soup was exceedingly good, herby and pungent .

Liz thought her potted shrimps overdosed on butter. I put it down to the one-size-fits-all glasses that GQS still insist on using.

The main courses of plaice, and partridge were good too. I should apologise for always choosing plaice, or so it seems. Unfortunately it is usually the most unfattening thing on the menu and I have an Olympic Games to prepare for.

Homemade (non-alcoholic) ginger beer was refreshing if not exceptional. (I have given up booze for January at least).



The desserts were sensational! Seville orange sorbet was spot-on, being bitter-sweet yet fluffy. If I were a nit-picker I would say that the zesty bits were a bit chewy though.

The salted creme caramel was divine.

Our waiter, whose name I didn't catch, was excellent. Apparently people are always asking for decaff coffee and it makes his job quite embarrassing. But "Chef" will not be swayed. Am not sure if it still Tom Norrington-Davies but I seem to remember that one of the reasons I haven't been back was the coffee policy. Shame because the food and the cooking is ace.

Chocolate truffle torte

The recipe for this cake came from James Martin's website. Unfortunately it's not there any more but as I had saved it as a Word document I can reproduce it here. It is essentially Delia's recipe with changes to the quantities.  I used Green and Black's 35% milk chocolate because my family prefer it. And the sugar mice were there because they were reduced to clear in Waitrose. I haven't had a sugar mouse for over 50 years!

James Martin chocolate truffle cake

25g/1oz butter, plus some for greasing,
100g/4oz amaretti biscuits,
400g/1lb dark chocolate (70-75% cocoa solids),
4 tbsp liquid glucose,
4 tbsp rum,
1 x 568ml tub double cream, at room temperature,
cocoa powder, to serve.

1.      Line a 23 cm cake tin with baking parchment, then grease the base and sides with soft butter. Melt the butter in a small pan. Crush the biscuits, mix together with the butter, then spread over the base of the tin.

2.    Break the chocolate into squares and put them in into a heatproof bowl, with the liquid glucose and rum. Place the bowl over a pan of barely simmering water, making sure the base of the bowl doesn't touch the water, then leave it until the chocolate has melted and become slightly smooth. Stir , then take off the heat and leave to cool slightly.

3.    In a separate bowl, beat the double cream until only slightly thickened. Fold half into the chocolate mixture, then fold that mixture into the rest of the cream. When blended and smooth, spoon it into the prepared tin. Tap the tin gently to even the mixture out, then cover with clingfilm and chill overnight.

Just before serving, run a warm knife round the edge to loosen the torte, then remove from the mould. To serve, dust the surface with sifted cocoa powder.