December is busy. Two weeks since the last post and I'm struggling to remember what I've cooked in those fifteen days. A perky chicken casserole spiked with salty preserved lemon and olives, an invigorating broth made from the same chook fired up by chillies and lemongrass and topped with a steamed piece of salmon and a buttery leeky risotto is all that I can remember. The rest is the usual whirlwind of Christmas parties: mass catered food, canapes and pub food. Not very exciting. For all the foody brilliance of Christmas, early December can easily become a lean month for the flavour addict.
But today, we've started the Christmas cooking. The mincemeat (including minced meat along with the suet, fruit and booze) has spent two weeks maturing in the fridge and it was time to fill the flat with the smell of toasty pastry and sweet spice. The pastry recipe is a Dan Lepard special from yesterday's Grauniad; rich and crumbly but a horror to cope with if you are as warm blooded as I am. I am about as natural a patissier as I am a pole vaulter. But they have held together just fine, slightly oddly shaped as all home cooked treats should be.
Time now to make some brandy butter...
No comments:
Post a Comment