Teeth: THREE - The Liquid Foods

The foundations have been laid. There are temporary new acrylic teeth up at the top of my mouth and in the pic at the head of this post. It is exactly a week since my big day in the ‘comfy chair’. Before my dentistry is given the all-clear to chow down in earnest I have to give everything time to establish strength and stability. This will mean a couple of weeks of as-near-to-liquid food before moving up the scale to just plain old non-threatening mushy stuff.

I told my consultant that I would write a little about my experiences and make particular reference to the ‘meals’ which I take. Nowhere else on my blog have I suggested any great scientific knowledge to back up ideas about the nutritional value of food. You won’t find any here either. This is still about my main thrust. Cooking and sharing food for flavour and fun.

The choices I am currently making constitute my diet. Diet as in something which no-one else needs to follow, much less should follow. If you want to think about and manage what you put into your own gut there are countless more ideas available. All I ask is that you think very carefully about people who assure you that the diet they are promoting (yes, of course, it will cost you!) has worked for thousands of others. Those people are slimy bastards who are keen to get fat… on your money. We’ve reached a stage in history where I reckon there are now far more diet offerings than there are religious ponderings from someone with a questioning faith. Of course, if you fancy seeking help from a properly qualified dietitian I am all for it!

Let’s return to that less tricksy thing - going for flavour. Here are three batches of soup which were prepared and frozen on the night before my appointment. Lovely turkey and vegetable based on the Christmas carcass, sweet potato coconut and ginger and a leek and potato. Also a fully charged mp3 player at the ready but not used the next day.

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All in the frame for my change of food regime.
The rest of any plans relied on using whizzing liquidiser blades to make smoothies and nutritious concoctions.

Smoothies have been tried and relished with bananas, apples, pears and frozen strawberries, raspberries, blueberries and forest fruits in various combinations. Lime or lemon juice to add zing and bring out flavour. Almond and coconut milk to ‘dilute’.

Some of those items are also part of what might be regarded as the heavier duty products of the plastic jug. The ones with kale, spinach and other greens. Spirulina and baobab powder get a look in, as do sunflower and pumpkin seeds and cashew nuts. Honey, maple syrup and occasional sugars have been used sparingly as most mixes have proved surprisingly sweet already. All in all, nothing so far has achieved anything like that taste which can be off-putting enough to be tolerated only by the thought that “… it MUST be doing me good”

The ingredients below are pepped up with enough salt, pepper, cream, butter and mustard to provide even more than they offer in isolation. Leeks and carrot and swede mash were soggy (let’s avoid ‘moist’, shall we) partners waiting for a threesome with Mrs. Cheoff’s perfectly smooth and rich Comté cheese sauce. Baby food for the eyes. Ate like a meal for a monarch.

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The depths of the plastic jug below present an uninspiring picture of tonight’s ‘dessert’.

3 plums, stoned, halved and frozen
200ml almond milk
100ml orange juice
4tbsp boozy (rum) caramel and walnut sauce*

*Christmas leftovers… I reckon you could substitute some soft dark brown sugar and a little cream.

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Not exactly glamorous. We make Delia’s pud and her Hot Punch Sauce at Christmas. This tasted like a glorious mix of those two lovely elements in drink form. When something tastes so damned fine I’m prepared to skip right over uninspiring looks and go straight for enjoyment. It will be repeated soon… and it’s likely to be seriously considered in the guise of a festive sorbet later this year!

So I’m still not having anything which can’t be swallowed easily without chewing… and I’m still enjoying my food. Four shop bought protein shakes in a week and some Farley’s rusks and Weetabix should be added to the final credits.

A daily check on weight has revealed little or no fluctuation. I’ll go with the premise that a few weeks of altered intake isn’t going to damage me too seriously. If I do fail to spot the signs of going the way of all flesh, at least these last posts will serve as a warning to all who survive me. I appear to be genetically damned to be lithe and lissom whatever I eat. Oh, and so far my poos have been regular and of comfortable consistency. Too much information? Well I’m leaving you in peace for a while anyway. A neighbour has just popped a card through the letterbox and asked me to “Smile, Sparkle and Shine… and show off to the world your magnificent new Crown Jewels”. I think it’s imperative that I abandon you and explain human geography and the correct location of my recent procedures to her. Erk!

Teeth: TWO - Some Gone. Even More Back Again.

Nine strikes… and they’re out!
That headline pic is one of the few I intend to show you of procedures carried out last Thursday. The diagonal slashes represent well over an hour’s work to remove all remaining teeth in my upper jaw.

Initial consultation with the very professional and rather charming Dr. Dimitrios Stougiannos had created much confidence and the will to part with over a year of income. A day in the chair with his likewise professional and charming team was well under way. There are links to Dimitrios, his double MSc and his thousands of previous implants here and here.

I am aware that some of you will be of a nervous disposition in the vicinity of dental discussions. Even more so in the confines of the dental surgery itself. So I shall spare you a graphic account of what went on and replace it with some… er… graphics. Hope that’s clear. A picture paints a thousand words. As David Gates and Telly Savalas would be keen to remind us.

What happened to me after the old stumps were pulled is expressed below through the power of further representations involving no upsetting garish colour or glimpses of gore. Essentially, there are four implants drilled into my jaw, some granules of cowbone to fill in and establish themselves in any extra spaces. Stitching to close the wreckage as neatly as possible. And then an acrylic prosthetic arrayed with the equivalent of twelve teeth labelled ‘U’ for upper was screwed into place.

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There was much to remember on the day. None of it truly unpleasant for me. Hours of Smooth Radio. Some mild gagging on a tooth which decided it wanted to stay with me for longer than needed. Finding out that I can still read without my glasses. Short periods of not quite understanding what was going on… and much longer ones thinking that the people around me knew exactly what they were doing. Plenty of food-related talk with technician, Mark, including ‘dolphin-nose potatoes’! #YouHadToBeThere
To complete the team sheet, I must add that Emma and Lisa were there to mop up fluids, provide timely equipment delivery and to generally massage my ego by constantly telling me how well I was doing!

By late afternoon I was home with a dispensed prescription for antibiotics and fond thoughts of the next dose of analgesics to be taken. It had been a fair old lot of bother but no-one had come out of it too badly. My experience should reassure some but, even if you still don’t relish the process, there are strong indications that the final result is worth the trauma which I did not feel. I’m pretty sure that mild sedation is available for those less sanguine than me.

Mrs. Cheoff noticed the onset of swelling after a couple of days. With an, “Ooh, you look like Deputy Dawg!” she gave the game away. I must correct her comparison’s accuracy with the appropriate cartoon figure below.

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That bruising is already dispersing. So I’ve gone from Gummy to Droopy and on to Happy. It’s early days. Things must be given the chance to settle down and heal before a final, permanent set is fixed but if all carries on in the same vein I’m a couple of months away from being more dangerous in the chomping and chewing regions than I have been for years.

In efforts to put cheoff (who is a Geoff but not a chef) dotcom back on a culinary track I’ll be back with a résumé of the soft, verging on liquid, foods which I’ve been enjoying (yes, honestly!) very soon. Until then, so long… which I am already able to say with nothing but a small trace of sibilant lisping and whistling.

And a final thank you to Dimitrios and his fine team!

Teeth: ONE - My Teeth. Here Today. Gone tomorrow. Back soon.

“There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth"

I’m a big fan of The Bible. For the dodgy reason of all the artistic endeavour which it has inspired. As an almost lifelong atheist I hasten to say that my struggle with the value of those artistic endeavours is an ongoing and earnest one. Some of it is achingly beautiful though… even if misdirected in my view. The good book also provides a redoubtable source of literary expression. That introductory quotation occurs a few times as a description of the torments of the damned in Hell. Very soon (tomorrow!) I will undergo procedures to relieve me of the remaining teeth in my upper jaw. The success or otherwise of my recovery phase will determine whether a prosthetic replacement becomes ten times more effective than what advancing years have left me with. So… not too much weeping (I fear the dentist not) and a fair bit less gnashing of teeth for a while.

Drastic measures, eh.

Decision made. And, using my currently remaining teeth to bite the bullet over cost, thoughts turn to the possibility of a running theme to this blog for the first part of 2019. Oh… Happy New Year everyone! That theme? Has to be a regular but hopefully not too painfully detailed account of what effects my chosen path sets up. Bearing in mind that my eating habits are going to be sorely modified for some time.

You might find it difficult to believe that it has only occurred to me while writing here that poet Pam Ayres’ sentiments in ‘Oh, I wish I’d looked after me teeth’ might easily be mentioned. Instead, for many weeks I’ve had an earworm (bookworm would be a better description) nagging me to revisit something captured in between the Alan Aldridge designed covers of John Lennon’s Penguin collection. A trip to the loft with desecrated decorations on Twelfth Night also allowed the retrieval of my 1966 copy of the said volume. Much nostalgia. About ten years ago I bought my brother a new edition for his birthday and we recited extensive passages from memory without referencing the text. A snippet of one favourite is here between those covers before the obvious ‘something’ which has been in my thoughts.

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There. Hope I’ve not given too much spoiler for those uninitiated in the trials of ‘Good Dog Nigel’. Distract yourself immediately with the main course below…

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Distracted? Good. I hasten to add that any thoughts of cosmetic improvement have been very low on my personal list of priorities. It’s all about the ultimate enhancement of my chomping capabilities. But as I go for extractions which will be followed by several weeks of avoidance of ‘proper’ chewing foods it would be great if any of you could send your finest suggestions as to what liquid lunches (or any other time of the day meals) you can recommend that are tasty and nutritious.

I have a juicer and NutriBullet at the ready. Hit me with your finest food flummery. But please steer well clear of all that nutribollox business!

I’ll see you again when whatever they use instead of novocaine has worn off and I can stop slurring my blog posts!

Kind regards

‘Gummy’

'OUT of my TREE' Midsummer House by Daniel Clifford

In August 2017 Daniel Clifford began to get a little excited on social media, sharing news that a book was in preparation marking twenty years of his restaurant, Midsummer House. And social media got a little excited too. My interest was piqued.

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The idiotic excuse that I most definitely do not need another cookbook stalled things for a few months after publication but it appeared on my wishlist and one of our junior ‘Cheoffs’ - the younger son (Sous Cheoff?) if you must know - sent me a birthday gift of ‘OUT of my TREE’.

My review follows but let’s throw in a spoiler straight away. This will not be loaned out in the foreseeable future… get your own lovely copy!

Mine is not the slip-cased, four-times-the-price limited edition. It doesn’t want to be. I shouldn’t like to be distracted by considerations of keeping it pristine. There is too much here which demands to be propped up in the kitchen and cooked from. Which leads to the one unfathomable serious flaw with this production. And that flaw lies in the physical production of the book. If this were a dish from Midsummer House it would never be allowed out of the kitchen. The care and finish is minimal. Head and tail bands and ribbon markers are absent. The book boards have the barest of thickness and strength. As far as a book in the hand goes, this is the most frustratingly disappointing volume which I’ve handled for many years. Maybe the flaw is fathomable after reading this from the website of the publisher, Meze:

There is no mention of bookbinding anywhere else on the site. I assume that element is discussed with clients on each project. Such a shame. I’m struggling to understand why Daniel Clifford would compromise his work in this respect. Let’s move on to much more positive stuff.

If you have come for the food you will be richly rewarded. Research and reminiscing leads Daniel Clifford to a nostalgic trawl through dishes which have disappeared or been reinvented over time at Midsummer House. Some were remembered with such affection that they have found their way back on to the menu at the restaurant. This has resulted in a very generous doubling of the originally proposed recipes to a finally published one hundred and forty.

Those recipes, presented as far as possible in chronological order, range from a very accessible one for egg sandwiches by Chef’s mum to more intricate efforts by Chef’s mum’s son. These involve techniques I am prepared to struggle with but which might be abandoned if they require a centrifuge or a pacojet. The food is gloriously presented through the patient, painstaking photography of Tim Green. The recipes and the short stories about their development make a strong claim as the star attraction of this volume.

But this is much more than a cookbook. Although it does not contain everything. As Sat Bains explains in his foreword (there are several forewords by much-respected, big-hitting members of the culinary and hospitality world), something is missing… namely ‘bullshit’. I would have expected that. My understanding of Daniel Clifford has come mainly from his appearances on Great British Menu over the last decade. He is both a winner and a ‘Veteran’ judge. In the latter guise his reaction to one competitor instigated Twitter fury. But I remember silently shouting at the screen seconds before Chef Paul Askew was pulled up short for over-enthusiastic garnishing… and thus being in total agreement with Daniel’s timely interruption. And previously his response to a teacher who exercised creative writing skills to describe her meal at his restaurant also received much coverage. The rebuttal of his customer’s letter of complaint was a lot more polite than the aforementioned Sat Bains’ occasional vitriol on ShitAdvisor. Especially considering that a Cambridge newspaper had undermined one of their community’s prize assets. I fall in with Chef’s refusal to accept such bullshit.

For me, though, there most definitely is one more large pile of doodah in the book - and I don’t mean the pant-cacking moment on page 36. This is not just an homage to Midsummer House. Chef takes us into the verbally and physically violent kitchens of his formative years and admits that his own early management skills rested on being trained by ‘animals’. I know from personal experience that Michelin star food can be produced in kitchens which offer a constantly positive and nurturing environment. This is still a harsh, unremitting profession but I am convinced that the additional prospect of being bullied is one element which has strongly impacted the recruitment of a new generation. The crassness of abuse needs to be seriously addressed… maybe we can begin to eliminate it.

Providing food in one of the UK’s top ten restaurants (have a debate on that later!) has to rely on teamwork but, in the process of becoming a culinary star, Chef Clifford concedes and regrets that he has made bad mistakes in his treatment of other human beings. The arrival of chef Mark Abbott confirmed a sea change. It revealed how much Daniel Clifford had developed as a person. The realisation and acceptance that Mark’s unassuming exterior is no barrier to being a powerhouse of cooking skill, creativity and work ethic has meant that Daniel can adjust to a new era in which he trusts someone else to match and sustain his exacting standards. Which also means that he might step back, and exhale with a big burst of pride at what he has achieved, not just in a wonderful career, but as a human being. ‘OUT of my TREE’ strongly suggests that he has now grown up more than enough to do just that.

Even if he has taken any sort of a step back, Midsummer House will always belong to Daniel Clifford. Even allowing for the help of so many others over the years it remains his creation. I am very grateful to him for producing such a fitting, thoughtful and rich book to share that creation with us.

EDIT: The book has been shortlisted in the Gourmand International Food Awards 2019 in the category of ‘Best Book of the Year in all categories’ The plaudits keep coming!

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It might be worth adding that we have not yet eaten at Midsummer House. You’ll gather that we will be correcting that mistake soon.

Right. Page 208 is open and I’m looking at the ‘Pear, Fennel and Black Olive’ dessert. And trying to work out ways to achieve it as far as possible without buying more kitchen equipment. You may leave me in peace now… I’m going to be busy.

France 2018 - Les Vins

We had a couple of French excursions, hitching or railcarding as students but our early marriage and the arrival of children saw us holiday under canvas in England, Wales and Scotland. Every one of those holidays is remembered for glorious fun and equally glorious weather. But when there came a desire to open our tent flaps to a different view Mrs Cheoff looked at such stuff as Eurocamp offered. At the back of the brochure were a very few pages advertising French ‘gites’. Ooh… not a huge difference in price and we do sleep better on a bed less bouncy and less low than a Li-Lo. Let’s go for it!

That was 1995 and since then every year but one has included a break of some sort in France. In 2004, struggling to finish the six course banquet on the last night of our Aghios Nikolaos waterfront bungalow binge, we agreed that our stay had been a wonderful and delightful indulgence… but we simultaneously looked at each other and voiced our firm desire to get back to our beloved France the next summer!

I’ll spare you the photo albums of the many regions, city and landscapes which we have experienced. This post concentrates on an element which has become a regular focus of our trips. French wines. Specifically, those we ‘harvested’ this September.

There will be no real recommendations here. I don’t know enough about the subject to advise in any more than very general terms. And I have finally realised how daft it is to expect anyone else to enjoy something just because I do!

Read a ‘chapter’ at a time if you like. I have split our tasting and buying into slurp-sized sections.

Champagne… a trio for starters

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Our first night was spent close to Troyes where our hosts gave us a glass of their preferred choice from that land where bubbles and mousse don’t necessarily involve a bath or a shower. We duly paid for one bottle (on the right) before leaving. The other pair were supermarket buys in the same price bracket as Lidl and Aldi entry point offerings.

Our next four days in Lyon get no further mention here since no wine buying took place. I ‘m doing well at maintaining the focus so far, eh.

On further south, to our favourite part of France and back to the town we have returned to more than any other - Saint Didier, Vaucluse. There are still lovely places left in this world. Saint Didier has stayed lovely enough to generate repeat visits which, for us, is unusual.

A few supermarket wines

We stopped at Leclerc in Carpentras ten minutes from our destination. It provided enough shelf interest to settle on four extras. We did buy and drink other bottles while away but what you see here are all those we brought home. The sweet Bergerac was a must-have after reading Diana Henry’s latest cookbook, ‘How To Eat A Peach’, before we travelled across the English Channel to Calais. Allow me to leave you to discover ‘How’ that peach should be eaten.

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We carried on and arrived to start our eighth stay in Saint Didier. Our self-catering discovery this year was a walk away from the centre of the town. Odile Paillard is an accomplished and generous host. I think I might have acknowledged elsewhere Mrs Cheoff’s fabulous skill in searching for and finding terrific places and people to make our holidays special. Le Cabanon at La Grande Vigne was yet another instance of her hitting paydirt.

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La Grande Vigne, Le Cabanon (our gite)… and some of Odile’s offerings

Along with fig tarts, jam and equally tasty suggestions for exploration Odile recommended her own favourite local wine producer. We headed over to Domaine Solence just three kilometres away.

Solence

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We were greeted by Anne-Marie who represents one half of a shared passion to produce organic wines with husband, Jean Luc. A 360 degree sweep around the Solence ‘shop’ can be accessed here. The modern environment and design qualities were to be repeated in the tasting which followed. Tradition layered over with new approaches made for lovely, complex but very drinkable wines. Steel and glass framed an unrestricted view out to vineyards where the Isnards and their team work with nature and not against it.

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These three links will give more information than I could remember for you…

Ici & Maintenant

Les Trois Pères

Cippus

All the wines we bought will keep for 8 or 10 years but we have already earmarked one of each for pairing with Christmas 2018 food. The others might survive longer… let us see.

Before moving on, I must point out the significance of ‘Les Trois Pères’ (Three Fathers) which is made as a tribute to the business partners (not necessarily family members) who saw fit to put their confidence and some cash into this venture.

Domaine de Fondrèche

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Before we left England I had planned to visit here. Their white had been offered (and chosen) at our wonderful Gravetye Manor Restaurant lunch. Arriving at their Ventoux ‘cave’ I realised that I had completely messed up my associations and confused Fondrèche with Fourmone, which we certainly had visited previously!

Not to worry. The wines were thin on the ground but not on quality. Thin on the ground because of weather-limited previous harvest. So after a restricted tasting we came away with their entry red and a couple of beers. And left them expressing surprise at our news that their wines had already travelled beyond the confines of French merchants and local hospitality to the realms of Michelin dining in the UK.

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Clauvallis

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This is the ‘cave coopérative’ which now stands on the roundabout before entering St Didier. It has been the outlet for the wines of the area’s growers and vintners since 1924 under the name ‘La Courtoise’ but has recently been given a shiny new building and an old Latin name. A couple of visits confirmed their wines as perfectly drinkable, nicely varied in style and generously priced. A 5 litre Bag In Box each of the Merlot and Rosé were bought without tasting (we do exercise trust now and again). The second visit confirmed our choices from the bottled wines.

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The following links take you to fuller details. It’s quite possible that you will need to use a translate tool. Do persevere if your French language skills aren’t as keen as moutarde!

Le Grand Rocher - Les Merrains - Viognier - Rosé Terres Cachées

Arnoux & Fils

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Here is a special place. Discovered through recommendation from our hosts on our first visit to Saint Didier in 2005. That year we made what was our first proper, developed wine dégustation. And our first purchases of wines which, given the care taken in production, were not priced aggressively enough to put us off. The ‘Vieux Clocher’ which appears in written and graphic form on most bottles belongs to the church bell-tower right next to where the original cave stood at the top of the town.
The composite picture below shows that tower and the old Arnoux premises opposite in photographs taken on our August 2006 visit.

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This year we had no need to sweep up the rise to the very top. Arnoux et Fils has moved its ‘front of house’ back, lower down the hill. The tasting, offered by Catherine, involved a reintroduction to old friends and the chance to try more of the expanding range of wines on offer.

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Clicking on the link for each bottle below to find the Arnoux website description of the wines we chose. Those descriptions are not vintage specific and grape percentages used might vary but it should give a reasonable view of characteristics.

Vacqueyras Vieux Clocher blanc

Vacqueyras Seigneur de Lauris rouge (old vines)

Vacqueyras Vieux Clocher rouge Classic

Those three were decided on with Mrs Cheoff’s full approval after tasting. The white is a contender for Christmas turkey pairing. I was left to carry on alone with proposals from our host, Catherine. There are fresh, young styles on offer as the Arnoux brothers expand their range and use grapes from vineyards other than their own. These stood up well against the more familiar bottles we had just revisited. Two ‘newbies’ from Château Lestours Clocher, Les Pénitents were added to the mix. The name suggests that someone is confessing their sins but I think drinkers should carry on and ignore any suggestion that their soul might be in danger. Made in a fresher, less immediately challenging way, the two I tasted still had depths which asserted themselves and tempted. My jaded taste buds rallied with the final bottle. There was no escaping its qualities. Excitement and flash are present. But any Hollywood surface gloss soon drops away and you begin to discover something much more meaningful. ‘1717’ refers to the year in which “Count François de Castellanne, de Lauris, de Vassadel, de Gérard, Chevalier marquis of Ampuis, de Lagneroux, Vacqueyras and its territories universal and direct landlord, gave away a vineyard to Pierre Bovis, an ancestor of the Arnoux family.” It is the family’s devilishly deliberate attempt to cock a snook at Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Or, rather, a poke at those who think no-one in the vicinity can produce a wine to match the attractions of that appellation. Yes, Arnoux propose their own C de P. At around 30 Euros. The ‘1717’ asks for a further 20 Euros. I would be happy to pay that for the quality it offers. It was complex, crafted, utterly delightful shampoo. ‘Head & Shoulders’ above the rest… #cringe #sorry. Reluctantly passed over this time, it is under very serious consideration for next year.

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Before we leave Saint Didier, allow me to reminisce. This will be a moment where only family and friends need stay. Any digital footprint I leave with my blog will have moments like the one that follows which will only be of real interest to my descendants and strangely inquisitive anthropologists. There is a wine context with further reference to Arnoux but no need to linger. If you find a rope and go off and skip until the italic text runs out and the font straightens up again, you have my blessing.

I made a delicious decision the first time we travelled to Saint Didier. We would leave the ‘Autoroute du Soleil’ at Bollène, further north than had been suggested, and take the D8 south-east through Carpentras and on to our final destination.

I was in the early throes of learning more things about wine than are really needed for simple enjoyment. Sainte-Cécile-les-Vignes was passed in ignorance of its wine-making credentials. But then signposts for Cairanne and Rasteau appeared and began to ring a few bells. I smiled as I recognised, Séguret and Sablet. Oh, my... Gigondas leapt out with its ‘leader of the pack unless you’re prepared to pay Châteauneuf-du-Pape prices’ credentials. Only one thing distracted from this glorious glut of slightly magical wine-related names. Mont Ventoux loomed in the distance and then swung to our left as we turned towards our destination. Thoughts of this iconic feature of the Tour de France and the sad, drug-accompanied death of Tom Simpson on its ascent were slowly but surely dismissed as Vacqueyras and Beaumes-de-Venise insisted on adding themselves to an ‘I-Spy’ tick-list of Southern Rhône appellations. We finally arrived at our holiday home with firm intentions of exploring back along that route to expand our knowledge of the vine and its product. As luck would have it, our hosts had a huge love of wine, a well-stocked cellar and much to impart which would help to send us in the direction of interesting growers.
They were the ones who suggested a visit to Arnoux et Fils. Thirteen years have passed since then. Enough for me to forget whether it was Marc or Jean-François who guided us through that first tasting of the reds on offer. We educated our palates as far as they would allow and decided on half a dozen each of Vacqueyras Vielles Vignes and Arnoux Gigondas as well as a Bag In Box Côtes du Rhône. We mentioned our hosts, who were recognised as great customers, and asked if Marc/Jean-François would recommend a bottle we might take back for them. This was added to the final bill. But after settling our account and beginning to practise our French thank yous and goodbyes, we were asked to wait a while. From racks behind the counter a magnum of Vacqueyras Classic was produced and handed to us with the family’s compliments. We still have the empty bottle. It was brought out a few times at home before drinking. When dinner guests gifted us some wine on arrival, we would cheekily Crocodile Dundee them with, “That's not a bottle.” [pull out Arnoux prize magnum]… “THAT’s a bottle.”

Welcome back!

Next comes our three day Burgundy stop, including Beaune, Nolay, Santenay, Saint-Aubin, Meursault and Puligny-Montrachet. Just a mention without further detail. We didn’t bring home any wines from this region… so it doesn’t get any more coverage in this post. Mind you, our ‘Emotion’ tasting lunch at Olivier Leflaive will be referenced soon. Keep tuning in for that!

Joly - Champagne

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We joined friends in Burgundy and travelled on with them to Troissy to round off our holiday. Mrs. Cheoff’s final discovery was a family run affair. The accommodation and facilities were wonderful but the icing on the cake was the Joly Champagne house three hundred metres away.

I mustered enough French with father, Rémy Joly, to arrange a tour of the production. Since Monsieur Joly speaks no English, I was relieved to find that we had understood each other and there was no surprise when we turned up at eleven the next morning. Lúcia was our guide. She speaks very good English and French. Which was just as well because none of us is at all fluent in her native Portuguese! The video below from the Joly website shows work in the vines as well as some of the cellar tour which we enjoyed.

Uploaded by CPCreation51 on 2017-11-14.

Lúcia managed to introduce technical and scientific matters without spoiling the essential magic of Champagne. The cellars contained enchanting examples of specially labelled bottles commemorating special occasions, including many from the Joly family’s history. We approached our tasting with considerably more understanding but still with the romance of celebration’s iconic drink intact.

Our dozen bottles of non-vintage will not be truly great for drinking after much more than two years. Never mind… we have no plans to make them last even that long!

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It was a memorable end to France and its wines but we will have an additional reminder of the Joly family who will make an appearance every time the foil is removed from one of their bottles.

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On the whole trip we ended up with seventy bottles, averaging out at £7.50 each. Some are stored away to see the light of day in a few year’s time. The rest are now at serious and immediate risk of enjoyment in an English climate.

All that remains is for me to come up with reasons to justify further purchases in France when we return next year. Maybe I’ll read this post again before we depart…

Dinner For Four, 2 November 2018

Here’s one of my posts which has a prime objective. Whatever else you take from it, if you don’t invite some friends round and offer them some food from your kitchen, I will have failed in that objective. And don’t wriggle out of it by arguing over the standard of your own cooking. If your skills are better than mine, I salute you. If you suggest that you can’t match what Mrs. Cheoff and I produce then you will miss a trick. Good, proper friends come to share everything you have to offer… any that don’t appreciate your food efforts can always be ‘Muted’ on social media and in real life!
I hope we understand each other. Get busy… but put on your apron first!

This was our menu for last Friday’s meal. It was very much appreciated and we enjoyed making it and eating it. And, yes… we were knackered and did bugger all on Saturday.

Amuse Bouche

Smoked haddock, curried eggs, shallot rings

No recipe for this one. I was in the middle of ‘mucking about a bit’ with the three main elements… as can be seen from my header picture where a canapé version was experimented with. Expect a post with more details soon.

Here is my plating on the night.

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Starter

Carrot cooked in chicken fat with pickled carrots & crispy chicken skin
From Paul Foster at Salt, Stratford-upon-Avon. We enjoyed this as part of the tasting menu on our first visit. It’s published in the Great British Chefs cookbook. Chef Foster contributed this as one of a small number of original recipes which are not available on the Great British Chefs website. So I’ll leave you to discover its glories by buying a copy of the book!

Soft chunks of carrot imbued with chicken fat, pickled and raw carrots, buttery croutons and crispy chicken skin. Pretty much all the flavours of a roast chicken dinner in a bowl. No ‘meat’… but still not vegetarian.

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Main

‘Somerset’ pork (fillet, mushrooms, cider, cream), Spiced red cabbage, Buttery mashed potatoes… with extra butter

Over to Mrs. Cheoff for the stove duties on this one. I’ve cooked it myself but not as much as she has. Not sure if the cabbage exerted some strange colour spectrum for my photo… we did not eat this under ultra-violet light!

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The recipe is a much repeated one. Out of a Marks & Sparks cookbook from the mid eighties. Here is the cutting which we still have but hardly need to refer to after all these years.

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Dessert

Sticky Banana Puddings with Tipsy Toffee And Walnut Sauce

More sterling work from Mrs. Cheoff to wind up proceedings. No photos of it yet. They will appear here when we have had ‘seconds’.

Petits Fours

Pear & vanilla jellies
Nougat (Silvain, Saint Didier… no point in offering anything but the best)
Salted caramel and peanut truffles

Coffee

No firing up of my Rancilio espresso machine at the end of this meal. I made a cafetiere with this bean from my usual (constant) supplier.

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Wines

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Joly-Champagne, Cuvée BRUT NV

Dopff au Moulin Riesling Grand Cru Schoenenbourg de Riquewihr 2009

Ch. Potensac, Médoc 2009

Henriques & Henriques Full Rich Madeira

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Squashy, Cheaty and Veggie Curry

This is my meld and mash-up of various recipes. One consideration was to enjoy a meat-free dish which retains flavour and interest in the cooking. Using the commercially prepared element here is a regular cheat for me. I have come to trust the Spice Tailor® range for its convenience and reliability.

Ingredients

1 medium butternut squash (500-750g), chopped into bite-sized cubes

ghee, 3 or 4 tablespoons

2 medium onions, thinly sliced

coconut oil

1 or 2 Spice Tailor Keralan Coconut Curry packs

cherry tomatoes, a handful

400g can of brown lentils, drained

200g bag baby spinach

This will make 6 generous portions so freeze leftovers if there are fewer of you.

Use just one pack from the Spice Tailor and make up the volume with water, stock or coconut milk for economy.

Method

Use a large pan to heat the ghee. Toss in the squash and gently soften it. Turn up the heat to brown and caramelise the surface. Remove the squash to a bowl with a slotted spoon. If your pan is too small, do this in two batches.

You could microwave the chunks of squash until tender… but your kitchen won’t smell nearly as great as my first suggestion!

In the recently vacated large pan use the coconut oil to soften the onion. A little colour won’t harm here but don’t go anywhere near dark crispiness.

Add the dry spices from the Spice Tailor sachet (and a chopped clove of garlic if you like) and cook to release fragrance and heat. Then put in the handful of cherry tomatoes, whole if they are on the dinky side.

Empty the contents of the Spice Tailor sauce sachets and bring all back to a gentle bubbling heat. The squash can now be reintroduced along with the lentils. When they are back up to heat add the spinach, cover and wait for it to wilt. You could stir in yogurt (coconut yogurt perhaps) before serving.

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Present as you like. You’ll see that I cooked basmati rice and included my home-made onion bhajis and a mint raita. The chapattis were shop-bought. I must talk again to my brother about my deficiency here. He’s had a chapatti pan in use for years.

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As for the purchase of Anjum Anand’s product; I do not benefit in any way from sponsoring it. But I still recommend it for qualities which regularly add flavour and ease to my cooking.