How to Eat (64 page)

If you’re going for the tagliata, get 2 beef slices, each about 1¼ inches thick, cut from along the whole length of the rump (about 1 pound per piece), and put each in a large freezer bag to marinate with a clove of garlic squished with the flat of a knife, ½ cup extra-virgin olive oil, the zest of ½ lemon, a few peppercorns, and a heaping teaspoon of fresh thyme leaves or ¼ teaspoon of dried. Tie or knot the bags and put them in the fridge for 12 or so hours. Remove and let come to room temperature before cooking as above. It’s hard to say how long they’ll take; it so depends on how you like your meat. I like mine pretty well still quaking and trembling on the plate—20 minutes or so, depending on how my oven or outdoor grill is behaving. Test by prodding before you start poking knives in—to elaborate on the above, if it’s very, very soft and bouncy, it’s blue; springy, rare; springy but with resistance, medium-rare to medium, depending on that resistance; hard—well, you know the answer to that. Take the steaks out, let them stand for 10 minutes, then carve thickly or thinly as you like, crosswise and on the diagonal. If you’ve roasted the meat, you’ll have some meat juices; deglaze with a little red wine or Marsala, strain, adding a few more chopped thyme leaves to the clear ruby juices, then dribble over the carved meat. There won’t be enough for a sauce boat. Put a plate of lemon quarters on the table too, for squeezing over the meat as you eat.

NEW POTATOES

Proper new potatoes need nothing more than a brisk rubbing before cooking and the lightest anointing with butter after. As to the cooking itself—these are best steamed, but it’s pretty well impossible to steam enough for 8 people, so just boil them, but make sure you don’t overboil them. I’d work on rations of about 8 ounces a head; this sounds like a lot on paper, but on the plate it somehow isn’t.

WARM SPINACH WITH LEMON

You’ve got enough going on with everything else, so I’d use packaged spinach, or even frozen (providing it’s whole leaf, not chopped). Get 4–5 packages of the fresh stuff, 3 of the frozen. And you’re not doing much more than wilting the former, thawing the latter. Add butter, olive oil, and a bit of lemon juice, or else a good sprinkling of sumac, that sour, citrussy, Middle Eastern ground-berry spice. Leave some wedges of lemon around the edges of the dish. A little grating of fresh nutmeg does something extraordinary here, too. The spinach should be at room temperature.

STRAWBERRIES IN DARK SYRUP

The darkness of the syrup in question comes from balsamic vinegar. Well, wait; this is not a sprightly, modern, hardly-dressed salad, but one with a syrup of garnet depths and intensity. The balsamic vinegar seems to make the red of the strawberries against it shine with the clarity of stained-glass windows. And it tastes as it looks, deep and light at the same time.

If you have some syrup left over after dinner, you can boil it up so that it reduces and thickens and you’ll have the world’s best-ever, most intensely strawberryish ever, sauce to pour over vanilla ice cream. There won’t be enough this way for more than just you, but do it anyway; it’s a heady experience.

Steep 2 pounds of strawberries, hulled and halved, in 2 tablespoons (I find it easier to drizzle this over in 6 teaspoons) balsamic vinegar (the best you can afford) and 10 tablespoons superfine sugar. Cover with plastic film and give the dish a good but gentle shake to make sure all the berries get some sugar and some vinegar on them, and leave for 3 hours.

Please—no cream, or similar, with these. But any form of sponge or cake would be fine. Because we are talking ecstatic culinary experience here, it seems entirely appropriate to produce some madeleines. The recipe here comes, naturally enough, from
Dining with Proust,
so we are really talking about:

PROUST’S MADELEINES

As you need to leave the batter for 1½ hours, you may have to think of baking them as you eat the first two courses. You can eat them—warm and fragrant—as cake-cookies for dessert. Obviously, you need to buy the special molds for these shell-shaped cakes, but that’s not difficult now. I use ones that can take 2 tablespoons of the mixture below, but they are best when you fill them with just 1 tablespoon. You may, then, need to bake them in two batches. This makes about two dozen.

8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted and cooled

1 tablespoon clear honey

2 eggs

½ cup superfine sugar

pinch salt

¾ cup Italian 00 or all-purpose flour

confectioners’ sugar for serving

Mix 6 tablespoons of the butter with the honey. Beat the eggs, sugar, and salt in a bowl for about 5 minutes with a mixer until it’s as thick as mayonnaise. Sprinkle in the flour; I hold a strainer above the egg and sugar mixture, put the flour in it, and shake. Fold in the flour with a wooden spoon and then add the melted butter and the honey. Mix well, but not too vigorously. Leave to rest in the fridge for 1 hour, then take out and leave at room temperature for 30 minutes. Preheat the oven to 425°F. Brush the remaining butter over the cavities in the madeleine molds and fill them with the cake mixture. Don’t worry about filling the cavities; in the heat of the oven, the mixture will spread before it rises.

Bake 5–10 minutes or until lightly golden on top and golden brown around the edges. Mine seem cooked after about 7 minutes, but not all ovens are the same, so be alert from 5 minutes. Turn out and let cool on a rack, then arrange on a plate and dust with confectioners’ sugar.

A really good Burgundy is always the perfect wine with beef.

INDIAN SUMMER DINNER FOR 6

PEA AND LETTUCE SOUP

LAMB WITH CHICKPEAS

COUSCOUS SALAD

TURKISH DELIGHT FIGS WITH PISTACHIO CRESCENTS

This is the sort of food to eat when the days are unexpectedly warm but the nights are nevertheless beginning to get cooler. You’re still in the mood for summer food, but you need ballast too. This food, like that in the previous menu, is as suited for eating on a table in the garden as it is for a windows-shut, curtains-closed dinner inside.

PEA AND LETTUCE SOUP

This is best prepared with fresh peas and a homemade vegetable stock. For the stock, shell the fresh peas, then combine their pods, some parsley stalks, peppercorns, onion, half a carrot, a stalk of celery, and, of course, water. Simmer for about 1 hour and strain. If I don’t feel like tackling fresh peas, or they’re not available, I use frozen young peas and either chicken stock or vegetable bouillon cubes. I find it easier to start the soup off with thawed peas, but if they’re still frozen, it couldn’t matter less. If you’ve got any basil-infused oil, you can use that for softening the vegetables at the beginning. I know mint is the usual herb here, but basil seems to enhance the fruity sweetness of the peas.

2 tablespoons olive oil

4 scallions (white and green parts), sliced finely

zest of ½ lemon

1 pound shelled fresh peas or frozen young peas

1 Boston or Bibb lettuce, roughly chopped

5 cups light stock (see headnote)

1 teaspoon sugar

1 tablespoon dry sherry

salt and freshly milled white pepper

3–4 tablespoons heavy cream, plus more, if desired

large handful basil leaves

Put the oil in a saucepan and, when it’s warm, add the scallions and zest, stir a bit, and then add the peas. Turn well in the oil, and then add the lettuce and cook till it wilts and then collapses into the peas. Pour over the stock, sprinkle over the sugar, and bring to the boil. Turn down to a simmer and cook gently and uncovered till the peas are soft, about 10 minutes. Purée in batches, in a blender if possible. You don’t get that velvety emulsion with a processor, though you can sieve it after processing, which will do it. Or use a food mill.

Pour back into the saucepan, add the sherry, and cook for a minute or so before tasting and seasoning with the salt and pepper, bearing in mind you’ll be adding some cream and eating it cold. Let it cool a little, then stir in the cream and let it cool properly before putting it in a tureen and into the fridge.

Just as you’re about to eat, taste for more salt or pepper, add more cream if wanted, and then shred the basil and add a good bit to each bowlful after ladling it out from the tureen.

LAMB WITH CHICKPEAS

For this, it’s up to you whether you use whole loin, which you roast and then slice, or individual noisette discs, which you grill, griddle, or fry; the former tastes better, but the latter look better. I can never carve from the entire rolled loin without it unfurling all over the place, but of course you do get the tender, uncharred sides from the middle of the roll. When you cook the individual noisettes, you’re sealing each slice in the heat. But the marinade will help to ensure that this wonderfully tender cut won’t coarsen in cooking. Make sure that you’re using the best lamb you can afford.

I think it’s easier to cook the chickpeas in advance and do the lamb on the evening itself, having put it in its marinade the night before or the morning of your dinner.

THE CHICKPEAS

Soak 1 pound of chickpeas in abundant water and with a paste made from 3 tablespoons flour, 3 tablespoons salt, and 1 tablespoon baking soda (as directed on page 78). Leave for 24 hours. Drain, running the cold water over them in the colander as you do so, then put them in a saucepan with 5 garlic cloves, peeled and bashed, 2 bay leaves, 2 small onions, peeled but left whole (makes them easier to remove later), and the leaves from a large sprig of rosemary. The bitter, boiled shards of rosemary will get in everyone’s teeth and ruin the creamy sweetness of the cooked chickpeas, so put them in tied cheesecloth or a tea infuser.

Cover again with abundant water, add 1 tablespoon olive oil, put the lid on, and bring to the boil, but do not uncover the pan; you’ll have to listen closely to hear when it’s starting to boil. Turn down slightly and let the chickpeas cook at a simmer for about 2 hours. You can check them after 1½ hours, but keep the lid on till then. When tender, drain, reserving a cup of the cooking liquid. Leave, even up to a couple of days, till you want to eat. It would be better to remove the skins around each butterscotch-colored pea, and I often start doing this, but have never yet completed the task.

To reheat, put 8 tablespoons olive oil and 6 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped, in a large, wide pan on moderate heat. I like to use a terra-cotta pot for this. Add to this 1–2 fresh red chilies, to taste, seeded and finely chopped, or crumble in a dried chili pepper. Add the drained chickpeas and turn well. Meanwhile, take 3 good-sized tomatoes, blanched, peeled, seeded, and roughly chopped, and add to the chickpeas. Salt very generously, stir well, and taste; you may need to add some of the cooking liquid. You don’t want this mushy exactly, but you want a degree of fusion, of fuzziness around the edges. Take off the heat and cover until you’ve dealt with the lamb.

THE LAMB

If you’re going for the whole-loin option, think along the lines of getting 3 1-pound loin pieces (although I might well get 4) and then roasting them in a 425°F oven for 20–40 minutes, depending on your oven and the age and thickness of the meat. You do not need to marinate the rolls.

As for the individual noisettes, I work on the assumption that you have to give each person 2, and then allow for half of those present to have more. For 15 noisettes of lamb, make a marinade out of ½ cup plus 2 tablespoons olive oil, 4 garlic cloves, crushed, 1 medium red onion, chopped, and 1 small fresh red chili pepper, seeded and sliced. I find the easiest, most efficient way of doing this is by dividing the lamb and its marinade between 2 plastic bags. Leave overnight or for as long as you can.

Just before you’re about to sit down for your first course, take the lamb out of its marinade. You can drain the marinade and use that in place of the olive oil for sautéing the chickpeas, above, in which case use a smaller amount of chili. Cook the lamb either by frying it in a cast-iron pan or a griddle, or by giving it a few minutes each side under a very hot broiler. Alternatively, sear the meat in a pan, then give it about 10 minutes in a 425°F oven. To keep the lamb pieces warm, leave them in a low oven on a dish covered with foil while you eat your soup.

When you serve, arrange the chickpeas on a big, flattish bowl (again, a terra-cotta one is perfect) or a couple of big plates, and place the lamb over them. Chop over some fresh, flat-leaf parsley—or coriander, if you feel infused with the mood of late-summer headiness.

COUSCOUS SALAD

Sometimes I provide just a couple of small bowls filled with well-chopped red onion for people to sprinkle over the lamb and chickpeas as they like. The alternative is the couscous salad, which, in effect, is panzanella, only using couscous in place of the bread. I often put basil in it, but this dinner has enough going on as it is without introducing another forceful character, so I suggest parsley.

1 cup quick-cooking couscous

1 teaspoon salt, plus more, if needed

6 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons best red wine vinegar, plus more, if needed

freshly milled black pepper