Recipes

Essence: recipes from Le Champignon Sauvage by David Everitt-Mathias

If you haven't heard of David Everitt-Mathias I wouldn't be surprised. But ask any leading chef in Britain - including Gordon Ramsay and Heston Blumenthal, who have both paid tribute to him in this book - and they certainly will.

Everitt-Mathias is not one to seek the limelight, although with two Michelin stars he has plenty to boast about. He doesn't do telly. He doesn't pop up in all the food mags. He doesn't in fact leave his kitchen unless he absolutely has to. If he isn't there the restaurant closes. He sets impossibly high standards of himself and his staff - and of his customers too. Don't wander in off the street expecting a table even if there's one free or turn up late for your booking. He feels he deserves the respect of being allowed to show what he and his kitchen can do - and fair enough.

He cooks some of the best food in Britain and this book tells you how to do so too should you be ambitious enough to attempt it. It's not for beginners - it's for experienced home cooks and fellow chefs. That's not to say there aren't recipes you can do quite easily like this simple and delicious soup - or take an element out of one of the more complicated recipes and tackle that. There's a fabulous-looking pistachio cake, for example, that I can't wait to try. But if you really want to rachet your cooking up a notch or two this is the book to buy.

Jerusalem Artichoke and Almond Soup

This is a very simple and satisfying soup. Jerusalem artichokes have a
natural affinity with nuts. If you wanted to add another dimension, you
could toast a few almonds, infuse them in some seasoned boiling milk, then
strain the milk and froth them up for a topping on the soup. You could even
use the soup as a base for seared scallops, tiger prawns or langoustines.
Small Jerusalem artichokes can just be scrubbed but larger ones will need
peeling.

Serves 4–6

600g Jerusalem artichokes
juice of 1/2 lemon
125g unsalted butter
100g onions, roughly chopped
1 celery stick, chopped
750g chicken stock (pages 23–24)
250ml milk
50g toasted almonds
100ml double cream

Peel the Jerusalem artichokes and put them in a bowl of cold water
acidulated with the lemon juice (this will prevent them discolouring).

Melt 75g of the butter in a thick-bottomed saucepan, add the onions and
celery and sweat for 5 minutes, until softened but not coloured. Drain and
slice the artichokes, add them to the pan and cook for 2 minutes, then add
the stock, milk and toasted almonds. Bring to the boil and simmer for 30
minutes, until the artichokes are soft. Pure in a blender and pour through
a fine sieve into another pan. Bring to the boil, then whisk in the cream
and the remaining butter a little at a time. Season to taste and serve.

What to drink:
David and his wife Helen, who puts together the winelist recommend a modest white burgundy like a Macon-Uchizy from Telmond with this soup or, alternatively a really dry nutty sherry

Slow baked plums with shiraz and star anise

Plums and red wine are as good if not better than pears and red wine. Slow cooked like this they taste just like the mulled wine you have at Christmas.

Serves 4
500g (1lb 2 oz) red plums
100g (3 1/2 oz) soft brown sugar
2 star anise
4 cloves
300ml (10 fl oz) shiraz or other intensely fruity red wine
Vanilla ice cream to serve

Run a knife round each plum and twist to pull each half apart. Pull out the stone or work a knife round it and cut it out. Arrange the plum halves in a single layer in a large ovenproof dish. Tuck the star anise and cloves round the dish then sprinkle the sugar over the plums.

Pour over the wine over the dish evenly then bake in a moderate oven (180°C/350°F/Gas 4) for about 50 minutes until the plums have turned jewel-red and the wine has turned thick and syrupy. (Spoon over the juices a couple of times during the cooking time). Remove the spices and serve hot with good vanilla ice cream.

To drink
With the rich mulled wine flavour of the sauce I really don't think you need anything

Porc à la moutarde

This typically Burgundian dish of pork with a wine, cream and mustard-based sauce is quick, easy and versatile. You could equally well use it for chicken.

Serves 2
1 tbsp olive oil
15g butter
2 boneless pork loin steaks (about 300g), preferably organic
125g chestnut mushrooms, rinsed, trimmed and thickly sliced
1 level tsp flour
100ml white burgundy or other dry white wine
1 tsp chopped fresh thyme leaves
2 tbsp creme fraiche
2 rounded tsp Dijon grain mustard or other grain mustard
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Some scissor snipped chives

Heat a medium sized frying pan and add the oil. When it's hot add the butter, then lay the pork steaks in the pan. Brown for about 3 minutes on each side, then turn the heat down and cook for a further 2-3 minutes on each side depending on the thickness of the steaks.

Remove the steaks from the pan and keep warm. Cook the mushrooms in the remaining oil and butter until lightly browned. Scoop them out with a slotted spoon and add to the pork.

Stir the flour into the pan then add the white wine and thyme and bubble up until reduced by about two thirds. Turn the heat right down and stir in the creme fraiche then add the mustard and warm through taking care not to boil the sauce which will make the mustard taste bitter.

Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper then return the pork, the mushrooms and any juices to the pan. Heat through very gently. Put a pork steak on each plate, spoon over the mushrooms and sauce and snip a few chives over the top. Serve with new potatoes and a green salad

Wine match
A young Chablis or Maçon-Villages would be ideal with this dish or any cool climate, unoaked Chardonnay. A modest red burgundy would also work well.

Best ever seville orange marmalade

Best ever seville orange marmalade

I’m not a great one for ‘the perfect this’ or ‘the perfect that’ in recipes but if you’re a marmalade aficionado I promise you this is as good as it gets. Intensely fruity, thick and sharply flavoured.

OK, I’m biased. It was my mum’s recipe so it carries a bit of emotional baggage. I can remember the kitchen filling up with a warm, comforting marmaladey fug and sitting alongside her as a child slicing the oranges. She wasn’t a wonderful cook but this was her pièce de resistance. I still have the original written neatly in blue ink on a piece of Basildon Bond notepaper.

I’d got out of the habit of making it but after she died a few years ago I started again in memory of those companionable times. Besides seville oranges are in season so now’s the moment.

(You can of course buy marmalade much, much more cheaply than it will cost you to make it. But it won’t taste anything like as good.

First a few practicalities:

* Assuming you don’t have a preserving pan you need a large saucepan. A large stainless steel pasta pan is perfect. The bottom of a pressure cooker will do.

* You need jars. You can buy them online from sites like Wares of Knutsford - or from Wilko - but that does add to the cost so beg or borrow some from neighbours. Not pickle or chutney jars in which the smell of the previous contents tends to linger. The jars need to be as clean as possible. Old recipes suggest sterilising them by putting them in a hot oven but I find a recent run through the dishwasher will do the trick. (You may need to soak them first to remove previous labels).

* I used to put waxed discs on the top of the marmalade to help it keep better but tend not to these days - usually, as in the case of this year because I found I hadn’t got them at the critical moment. Again you can get them - and new labels - from a specialist like Lakeland or Wares of Knutsford.

* You need a couple of saucers in the fridge to test the set and a small jug and a wide necked funnel for potting (see method)

* and finally, and most importantly, you need seville oranges, unwaxed lemons and sugar in the following quantities. The original recipe stated preserving sugar but this is now so hard to get and twice as expensive as granulated so I use that these days.

1.35 kg (3lb) Seville oranges, preferably organic
1 large or 2 small lemons, preferably unwaxed
1.7-1.8kg (3 3/4-4lb) granulated sugar (I use 1.7kg)

This makes about eight 400g jars but your jars will probably be all shapes and sizes and the quantity always turns out different depending how long you boil the marmalade so make sure you have slightly more than you need.

Wash and scrub the oranges and lemons with a vegetable brush and put them whole into a large pan with 1.3 litres (2 1/4 pints) of cold water.

Cover the pan with a lid or a large sheet of foil and bring slowly to the boil. Simmer for 1 1/2 to 2 hours, turning them occasionally until they are soft enough for you to pierce the skins with the end of a teaspoon. (You can probably remove the lemons after an hour and the oranges progressively after that). The kitchen will smell heavenly.

Remove the fruit and set aside until cool enough to handle. Measure out the remaining liquid. If there is less than 1.1 litres (just under 2 pints) add enough fresh water to bring it up to that level

Cut the fruit into quarters, scoop out the pulp and separate out the pips. (Hang onto them, don’t chuck them away) Cut the skins into small thick slices and add them back to the pan along with the pulp.

Heat up the reserved cooking liquid slightly. Put the reserved pips into a sieve, hold it over the pan of fruit and pass the warm liquid through stirring to loosen the pulp that’s still attached to pips, scraping it off the bottom of the sieve with a spatula. (This is much easier and less messy than the traditional method of putting them in a muslin bag.)

Give the fruit and liquid a stir and leave it to rest for an hour or so. (This also helps improve the set)

Bring the fruit up to just below boiling point, add the sugar and leave over a low heat, stirring occasionally until the sugar has dissolved.

Bring back to the boil and cook the marmalade quite fast for 25-30 minutes, this time without stirring.

Test a little on a chilled saucer after 25 minutes to see if it’s set. As it cools it should crinkle when you push it with your finger. If it doesn’t boil it for another 5 minutes and repeat the saucer test. As the marmalade reaches setting point it will darken and grow thicker but don’t overcook it. I like mine light, fresh and as tart as possible given the shedload of sugar in it.

Once the marmalade has reached setting point, remove from the heat, skim off any foam that has accumulated on the surface and allow to cool for about half an hour.

Warm your jars if they’re not already sitting in the dishwasher and ladle or pour the marmalade into them (I find using a small jug and a wide-necked funnel makes this easier. Cover with a disc of waxed paper, if using, and seal with screw top lids or clear covers. Wipe any splashes off the side of the jars while they’re still warm.

Leave until cold before labelling otherwise the labels won’t stick.

Feel smug and happy.

 



You can of course cut the amount of work involved by chopping the peel in a food processor but I like proper looking chunks in my marmalade. Just get someone to sit alongside you as you slice and scoop away. It’s a nice thing to do with your kids, or other half preferably to a good blast of music.

Oh, and a final tip. You can freeze seville oranges successfully if you haven’t time to make all your marmalade in one go or run out of jars. Just wash and dry them before you freeze them, use them from frozen and increase the boiling time until they’re cooked through.

It is of course perfect for toast - preferably Aga toast - but you can also use it to make this awesome marmalade cocktail.

Related reading: the tricky task of pairing wine and citrus

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