Home-Made Mayonnaise

Home-made mayonnaise is another of those life enhancing things I prefer not to live without. It tastes so much better than anything you can buy, but this recipe comes with a warning. Much like Hollandaise Sauce, making it means you can no longer hide from yourself the amount of oil that goes into it. That’s all to the good, really. Just knowing it’s ‘naughty’ only adds to the deliciousness.

Since it contains raw egg, UK guidelines recommend ‘at risk’ people use pasteurised eggs to avoid the possibility of salmonella poisoning. The at risk groups are the very young, the elderly, pregnant women and anyone who is already unwell. If you decide to take the risk, you can minimise it by buying eggs from a reputable source, rinsing the shells before you crack them (UK eggs are sold unwashed by law) and washing your hands once you’ve finished handling them.

Considering we are a ‘living with cancer family’ it may surprise you to know we do take the risk. Life is for living, after all. Personally, I wouldn’t use it in a sandwich which was going to sit in a hot car for a few hours, but it keeps perfectly well in the fridge for 5 days or so and I’m very fussy about the eggs I use.

The choice of oil makes a difference to the taste of your mayonnaise and you can play about with it. A mix of extra virgin olive oil or cold-pressed rapeseed oil and a lighter sunflower or groundnut oil makes the mayonnaise I prefer. All olive oil mayonnaise can taste bitter. I tend to use a ratio of 2 parts rapeseed oil and 6 parts sunflower, but a 1:7 might be better with some olive oils.

One glance at the side of a jar of commercially produced mayonnaise and you’ll wonder why they feel the need to add colouring and fructose syrup. The ingredients list is short – and, if you’re comfortable using fluid ounces, it’s super easy to remember. 2 eggs for every 8 fl oz of oil. In metric it’s a less memorable 225ml of oil.

A freestanding mixer takes the physical effort out of it and it’s how I make mine. Making it by hand does push the boundaries of my foodie mantra ‘if I’m not prepared to make it, I’m not allowed to eat it’, but it’s entirely possible. If you’re making this by hand, put a damp j-cloth or tea towel beneath your bowl to keep it steady. You need one hand to whisk and the other to drip the oil.

Have everything at room temperature. Mayonnaise is an emulsified sauce and fridge cold eggs increases the risk of everything curdling.

Place the egg yolks in a bowl, together with a dollop of Dijon mustard and a pinch of salt. I add my ‘acid’ now and it usually takes the form of white wine vinegar. Lemon juice is a nice alternative, particularly if you’re intending to serve your mayonnaise with fish.

Give everything a mix together.

I’d no hands left for this bit – but’s it’s time to set the whisk going and gently drop in the oil. Set the mixer going and start with the sunflower oil. Start slowly and whisk well between each addition. If the sauce is struggling to absorb the oil, slow down. After the first 2 fl oz of oil, mine looked like this.

And, after 4 fl oz.

6 fl oz – it’s getting thicker and you can add the oil more quickly.

The final 2 fl oz. In my case, the rapeseed oil.

Beat until it’s smooth and shiny. And, that’s it. Check for seasoning, add a little pepper if you like. A dessertspoon of boiling water stabilises the mayonnaise and thins it down slightly. Some times I do, and some times I don’t. If you fancy making a saffron infused mayonnaise that’s the way to do it. Add the stamens to the boiling water and mix through your mayonnaise. It has a fabulous colour.

It won’t split if you begin with room temperature ingredients and don’t rush adding the oil .. but …

If you run into difficulties there are things you can do.

Place an egg yolk in a clean bowl and gradually whisk in the split mayonnaise. Or, add a dessertspoon of boiling water to a clean bowl and whisk in the split mayonnaise. Both will work to stabilise your mayonnaise, although the extra egg yolk adds richness.

It can be a base for all kinds of wonderful things – here I chopped a couple of tablespoons of dill and stirred it through to serve alongside some smoked trout ..

I also made a basil mayonnaise, another flavoured with tomato and basil. A few tablespoons went to make a celeriac remoulade which I love with ham .. and prawns. Pâte, too …

.. but it’s lovely as it is.

Eat.

Home-Made Mayonnaise

Makes 350ml/12 fl oz

2 organic, free range egg yolks
¼ teaspoon of fine salt
½ teaspoon of Dijon mustard
1 dessertspoon of white wine vinegar (or lemon juice)
225ml/8 fl oz oil (use a ratio of 6 parts light oil like groundnut or sunflower:2 parts rapeseed or olive oil)

Have everything at room temperature.

Place the egg yolks, the salt, Dijon mustard and white wine vinegar in a bowl. Whisk together, then s-l-o-w-l-y add the oil, starting with the light oil and finishing with the heavier rapeseed/olive oil. As you whisk you will see and feel the sauce thicken and the sauce will absorb the oil faster.

Keep refrigerated and use within a few days. Add herbs .. or not.

Eat.

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Fraisier Cake

It was Nigel’s birthday earlier this month – and that always involves strawberries. Despite the fact we’d been picking them from the garden for most of June, when Nigel was a child his birthday always signalled the first strawberries of the summer and some things should be respected.

Le Fraisier is a french strawberry gateaux, fraise being the french word for strawberry. I don’t think it can be a creation of too much antiquity because strawberries in this plump form, as opposed to the wild variety, are a fairly recent arrival. Amédée-François Frézier (1682-1773) gets the credit for introducing them to Europe, having brought some specimens back from Chile.

Whoever the culinary genius was who created this celebration of the strawberry I can’t say. I do know where I came across it. Baking a Frasier Cake was a Mary Berry technical challenge on series 3 of ‘The Great British Bake Off’.

I’m fairly confident my children, with the exception of Liddy who can be trusted not to tell her brothers, will not be reading this .. so I will make a confession. All those technical challenges … well, they’re a whole lot easier if you are not cooking in a tent, have a complete set of instructions, no interruptions, no tv camera pointed at you watching for mistakes and as much time as you like to cook.

This is fun to make. Okay, so it’s not something I’d whip up on an average week night, but no stage is complicated – and then it’s an assembly job. It tastes amazing.

Making a Genoise Sponge is so much easier with a stand mixer. If that’s not what you have, you need to do it the classic way which is in a bowl set over a pan of simmering water.

Melt 50g/1¾oz of unsalted butter, and allow it to cool slightly. Heat your oven – 180ºC/Gas Mark 4/350ºF. Prepare a round 23cm/9″ cake tin – I melt more butter to grease my tin really thoroughly and line the base with bake o’glide.

Then, with the four eggs, finely grated zest of two lemons and 125g/4½oz caster sugar in the bowl – whisk. I use my kitchen aid with the whisk attachment on maximum.

It’s done when you can lift the whisk out and draw a figure of eight with the mixture. It’ll rest on the surface for a few moments.

If you’ve been whisking over a bowl of simmering water, now is the time to remove from the heat. Whichever method, sift over half the flour.

Gently – fold in. The aim is to keep as much air in the mixture as possible. Use the edge of the spatula (or metal spoon) and use a cutting motion. Once you’ve incorporated the first half, sift over the remaining flour and fold that in as well. Then, add the melted butter. Gently – fold that in, too.

Pour into the prepared cake tin and bake for 25-30 minutes. In my 4-oven aga, I use the Baking Oven and bake for 20-25 minutes on the rack placed on the floor.

It’s done when the sides of the cake shrink away from the sides of the tin. Leave it to cool for five minutes, then loosen the side clip and transfer the cake to a cooling rack.

Crème pâtissière is a fancy custard. In a clean bowl, whisk together 4 eggs, 2 extra egg yolks, the sugar, cornflour and kirsch.

Cut 150g/5½oz butter into cubes.

The best vanilla pods are the nice, fat, bendy ones.

Scrape out the seeds with the back of a knife.

Pour the milk into a saucepan and add the vanilla seeds and pod. I chopped mine to get maximum flavour into the milk. Bring to a boil and take it off the heat.

Place a sieve over the bowl holding the eggs and sugar and pour the hot milk on top. Whisk everything together.

Pour the whole lot back into a clean saucepan. Over a medium heat, stir until it thickens.

It happens suddenly. It’ll look like it’s got cellulite. Whisk out the lumps. You’re looking for a thick, smooth custard which will pipe.

It’s about to get richer. You’re allowed to eat this guilt-free because you’ve made it and not bought it.

Cube by cube, drop in the butter. Stir and let the butter melt.

Once all the butter has been incorporated, it needs to cool. Pour it into a shallow dish so there’s a big surface area to speed up the time it takes to cool.

Cover with cling wrap to stop a skin forming. Put into the fridge. It’ll take about an hour.

This is a lemon sugar syrup. A warm lemon yields more juice so I pop mine in the Simmering Oven for a couple of minutes, but even rolling a lemon on the work surface does the trick. Place the lemon juice in a saucepan, holding back a dessertspoon’s worth if you are making home-made marzipan.

Add the caster sugar and a splash of water. Stir over a low to medium heat until the sugar has dissolved. Then bring to the boil and let it boil for 2 minutes. Pour it into a heatproof jug or jar and leave to cool.

The marzipan. There is no such thing as bad marzipan and you can, of course, buy it. Home-made is a different texture than the standard commercial product because I don’t have big rollers to pass everything through. I make it when the marzipan is a ‘feature’. So, not when I’m covering a cake before I ice it but .. yes, when I’m making Simnel Cake at Easter, or covering marzipan balls in chocolate.

And, this.

So, so easy. It’s ground almonds. If you’re really in the zone you can grind your own. I wasn’t. I didn’t. Icing sugar. Caster sugar.

A dash of vanilla extract. Another of orange flower water. Another of sherry or rum. A splash of lemon juice.

Lightly beat one egg. You may not need all of it. You want to end up with a stiff paste. Lightly dust your work surface with icing sugar, rather than flour (!).

And, knead until it’s all smooth. This is more than you’ll need but it’ll keep in the fridge for a couple of weeks. Wrap in cling wrap and then foil.

Roll out 200g/7oz of marzipan. It needs to fit the baking tin – I cut around the bake o’glide I use to line it with.

Slide it on to the base of a big quiche tin and put in the fridge to chill.

Back to the baking tin. You’re on the final stretch. Stay with me. I bought a roll of acetate plastic in John Lewis in the wrapping paper/birthday card department. It’s great for wrapping plants and bottles of wine (when combined with tissue paper) .. and this.

Cut a strip which is the height of your tin and a bit more.

A clean tin! Line the sides with the acetate.

The Genoise sponge should now be cold. You could even bake this the day before, if you’re really organised, and it will slice more easily.

If you slice the cake unevenly it will show so this is my preferred method for getting it even. My cake measured 5cm/2″- ish. Four cocktail sticks mark the half way point and I use them as a guide, slicing with a bread knife.

Place one half in the bottom of the cake tin, top side bottomwards.

Now for the lemon sugar syrup. Brush on half the syrup.

With the back of a spoon press the edges down really firmly. Coax the sponge up tight to acetate. It gives a much sharper finish.

The strawberries. For a ‘wow’ finish you need to have strawberries with a similar height. How many .. will depend on their overall size.

Hull and slice in half.

The cut side needs to face the acetate. Push them in really snuggly. It would be a tight fit.

I use an easy-grip piping bag from Lakeland and a 1cm/½” nozzle. Fill the bag with two thirds of the cold crème pâtissière into the bag.

Pipe over the base and up between the gaps between the strawberries. Make sure the crème pâtissière reaches the top of the strawberries.

Aesthetically, I think this would probably look better if you filled the centre with whole strawberries but in the real world of a home kitchen that would be very wasteful. Save 3 strawberries for decoration and cut the rest into pieces. Pile them in the centre.

Pop the final third of the crème pâtissière into the piping bag and pipe over the top of the strawberries.

Smooth out the crème pâtissière with an offset spatula.

Top with the second half of sponge. Cut side uppermost.

Brush over the rest of the lemon sugar syrup.

Push down. Get the edge of the sponge pushed up snuggly against the acetate.

Slide the chilled marzipan disc on the top and put the cake into the fridge to chill.

Now’s the time to make any chocolate decorations … but a dusting of icing sugar and the reserved strawberries would be pretty, too.

When you’re ready to serve. Unclip the baking tin.

Peel away the acetate.

Transfer to a serving plate – the quiche tin base I used to chill the marzipan disc makes it easier than you would think.

Decorate. Don’t place any cut strawberries on the marzipan too far ahead as they will eventually bleed.

Eat.

Fraisier Cake

Makes one 23cm/9″ cake.

For the cake:

4 free-range eggs
125g/4½oz caster sugar
zest of 2 lemons, microplaned or very finely grated
125g/4½oz self-raising flour
50g/1¾oz unsalted butter, melted and cooled

For the crème pâtissière:

4 free-range eggs
2 free-range egg yolks
500ml/20fl oz full-fat milk
vanilla pod
180g/6¼oz caster sugar
1 tablespoon kirsch
100g/3½oz cornflour
150g/5½oz butter, cut into cubes

For the lemon syrup:

75g/2¾oz caster sugar
juice of 2 lemons
70ml/4½ tablespoons cold water

For the marzipan (makes 500g/1lb 2oz):

125g/4½oz icing sugar
125g/4½oz caster sugar
250g/ ground almonds
1 dessertspoon of sherry (or rum)
1 dessertspoon of orange flower water (brands vary – check the strength)
1 dessertspoon of lemon juice
a couple of drops of vanilla extract
1 free-range egg

To assemble:

200g/7oz of marzipan, bought or home-made
600g/1lb 5oz strawberries

Preheat the oven to 180ºC/350ºF/Gas Mark 4.

Grease and line the base of a 23cm/9″ loose-bottom cake tin. It really does make life easier if you use a spring-form tin.

Place the eggs, sugar and lemon zest in the bowl of a powerful stand mixer or in a bowl placed over simmering water. In a stand mixer, whisk on full speed until you reach ‘ribbon’ stage’. With an electric hand whisk, whisk over simmering water on medium speed until you reach the same stage. Remove from the heat, if applicable. The egg mixture will be pale, have doubled in volume and leave a trail when you draw a figure of eight over the top.

Sift over half the flour and gently fold in. Add the remaining flour and fold again. Finally, the melted, but cooled, butter. Fold in.

Pour the mixture into the prepared cake tin and bake for 25-30 minutes or until the edges are pulling away from the sides. Aga: grid on the floor of the Baking Oven for 20-25 minutes.

Leave to cool for 5 minutes, before removing to a cooling rack until cold.

To make the crème pâtissière, place the eggs, sugar, kirsch and cornflour in a bowl and blend everything together.

Remove the seeds from a vanilla pod and place them and the pod into a saucepan. Add the milk. Bring to a boil, remove from the heat.

Place a sieve over the bowl holding the eggs, sugar and cornflour and pour the hot milk on top. Whisk together. Pour everything back into a clean saucepan and stir over a medium heat. It will thicken suddenly. Stir until thick enough to pipe easily. Remove from the heat. Stir in the cubed butter.

Pour into a shallow dish, cover with cling wrap and chill for an hour until firm and cold.

Make the lemon sugar syrup by placing the water, lemon juice and sugar in a small saucepan. Heat over a gentle heat until the sugar has dissolved. Bring to a boil and boil rapidly for 2 minutes. Transfer to a jug or jam jar and cool.

Make the marzipan by mixing the dry ingredients in a bowl. Add the sherry, orange flower water, lemon juice and vanilla extract. Gradually add enough beaten egg to form a stiff paste. Lightly dust the work surface with icing sugar and knead until smooth.

Roll 200g/7oz of there marzipan into a circle and cut a circle which will fit the cake tin. Place on a flat surface to chill.

Place a strip of acetate around the inside of your clean cake tin. There is no need to grease it.

Slice the sponge in half horizontally.

Place one layer of sponge in the bottom of the tin with the cut surface facing upwards. Brush with half the cold lemon sugar syrup. Press the edges against the acetate with the back of a spoon.

Select 12-14 strawberries of a similar height. Hull and cut in half. Press the strawberries, cut surface against the acetate, around the edge.

Place the two-thirds of the chilled crème pâtissière in a large piping bag fitted with a 1cm/½” piping nozzle. Pipe over the sponge and between the strawberries. Make sure you pipe the full height of the strawberries and fill in all the gaps.

Reserve a few strawberries for decoration. Hull and chop up the remaining strawberries and place them on top of the crème pâtissière.

Pipe the remaining crème pâtissière over the chopped strawberries. Smooth out with an offset spatula.

Lay over the second sponge half. Brush over the remaining lemon sugar syrup and press down firmly against the acetate.

Place the marzipan disc on the top and put the tin back into the fridge to set.

When you want to serve, remove the cake from the tin. Peel back the acetate and transfer to a serving plate. Dust with icing sugar and cut strawberries. Serve chilled.

Eat.

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French-Style Potato Salad

French-Style potato salad as opposed to one that’s dressed in mayonnaise or soured cream. I did play about with calling it ‘Herby Potato Salad’ because there are a lot of herbs, but the vinaigrette dressing swung it. In my house, this is just called ‘Potato Salad’. It’s my default setting for any summertime barbecue and I love it – not least because it’ll sit in the sunshine without coming to any harm.

You know how chefs say they go to the market and look for what’s fresh and their imaginations start buzzing with ideas of what they’ll create .. well, it wasn’t quite like that. I went to the supermarket and there was a trolley full of reduced Jersey Royal potatoes .. and I immediately thought, ‘Good, potato salad’.

Does that count??? It’s certainly the way I cook.

Jersey Royals are usually expensive and have EU protected status. The reason is not the type of potato but the growing conditions. They’re been grown on the island of Jersey since 1880 and are planted on the steep south facing coastal slopes in well-drained and nutrient-rich soil. Vraic, which is the dialect word for the locally collected seaweed, is used as a fertiliser and the steep slopes mean much of the crop has to be harvested by hand.

99% of the harvest ends up on the UK mainland, the rest the islanders eat themselves. This late in their season they’re getting larger than the ones that appear in May. Best are the ones with mud clinging to them – but I’m grateful for my bargain.

With a Jersey Royal it’s skin-on. Always. The skins are paper thin and all the nutrients are just beneath it. I’m inclined to do that with all small waxy potatoes. I’m going to sell it on the grounds of health, but I hate scraping potatoes. Give them a good wash and, for preference, steam rather than boil. Conventionally, it takes about 20 minutes. Aga – bring to the boil in cold salted water. Give it a couple of minutes on the boiling plate and then drain completely of water. Replace the lid and pop into the simmering oven for 30 minutes.

You are looking for ‘tender at the point of a knife’.

Then cover the saucepan with a clean tea-towel, replace the lid and let it steam dry for a further five minutes.

Hopefully, they’re now dry and cool enough to handle. Cut into bite sized pieces. Smaller ones I cut in half, the larger potatoes into four.

Place them in a bowl and pour over a glug of white wine. Most recipes that call for that will tell you to use what’s left in a bottle. Who are these people? Nigel and I would finish the bottle! So, whenever I open a bottle, I take a little bit off the top and freeze it. Useful for making a risotto, too, and probably better for us to consume a little less alcohol. If you don’t drink alcohol, you could miss this stage out completely or use a little bit of chicken stock.

Give it all a stir and then cover with plastic wrap. The potatoes will soak up the wine.

Meanwhile, make the vinaigrette. It can be as simple or as complicated as you like. Considering the quantity of fresh herbs I’m about to include, I keep it really simple. One part good quality white wine vinegar with three parts good olive oil. I do spend money on the ingredients for a dressing because they have nowhere to hide. In this case I actually didn’t use olive oil but a cold pressed rapeseed oil.

Then, I added a blob of Dijon Mustard, salt and pepper. Give everything a shake and taste. Now’s the time to make any adjustments. If you don’t use all of it in this potato salad it’s a lovely dressing on a green salad and will keep happily in the fridge for a few days.

The herbs are the stars of the salad. Parsley – flat leaf or curly. I can’t see that it matters.

Basil.

The easiest way to chop basil is to pile the basil leaves up and roll into a cigar. Then chop with the sharp knife. If you have any green sludge on your board it’s because your knife is too blunt and you are bruising the herbs rather than chopping them.

And that’s a chiffonade.

I served this potato salad with salmon which made dill an obvious choice. In fact, any ‘soft’ herb is lovely and when my herb bed is really flourishing I have fun.

I like the tang of spring onions and chop both the white and green parts. When Seb is home from uni I often omit them and use chives in their place. Of course, in the interests of honesty, I should mention I get fed up with accommodating his preferences and will revert to spring onions when he’s been home a few weeks. (You might like to remind yourself of my problem when making cottage pie.) Finely chopped shallots are also lovely.

By now the potatoes will have sucked up the alcohol. Add as much of the vinaigrette as you need to coat everything, but not so much as you have a pool of it at the bottom of the serving dish. Then add the herbs and the spring onions.

If you want to keep this in the fridge, do bring it to room temperature again before you serve it.

Eat.

French-Style Potato Salad

Serves 8 generously

1.5kg/3lb waxy potatoes
50ml/2 fl oz white wine
50ml/2 fl oz white wine vinegar
150ml/6 fl oz good olive oil or cold pressed rapeseed oil
1 tsp Dijon Mustard
1 tsp of salt
½ tsp freshly ground black pepper
8 spring onions, both the white and green parts, chopped
3 generous tablespoons of chopped fresh parsley
3 generous tablespoons of chopped basil
3 generous tablespoons of chopped fresh dill

Thoroughly scrub the potatoes to get rid of any dirt and steam until they are ‘tender at the point of a knife’. Cover with a clean tea-towel, replace the lid, and allow to steam for 5-10 minutes longer.

Cut into bite sized pieces and place in a shallow bowl. Add the white wine and give everything a gentle stir. Cover with plastic wrap and allow the potato to absorb the wine.

Meanwhile, make the vinaigrette. I like to use a parfait jar or empty jam jar. It’s one part white wine vinegar to three parts oil if you like to do it by eye. Otherwise, 50ml/2fl oz of white wine vinegar in the bottom of the jar. Add 150ml/6 fl oz of good quality olive oil or cold pressed rapeseed oil. Add 1 tsp of Dijon Mustard. A teaspoon of sea salt and ½ teaspoon of freshly ground black pepper. Replace the lid on your jar and give everything a shake. Taste. You can add more seasoning, more vinegar …

Chop your choice of soft herbs. Parsley, basil and dill are easy to buy and are my default selection.

Remove the plastic wrap and add enough of the dressing to coat the potatoes. Then the herbs. 3 generous tablespoons of each. Give everything a gentle stir and serve at room temperature.

Eat.

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Globe Artichokes

A Globe Artichoke doesn’t exactly fill you up, but it always feels like an event. I’ve given up hoping I’ll ever be the kind of glamorous woman who looks fabulous in shades of creams and taupe, but I’m clinging to the belief eating a Globe Artichoke is the pinnacle of foodie chic.

They did not feature in my childhood which meant when I first met one I wasn’t sure what to do with it. By peeking out the corner of my eye and copying I hope I made a reasonable fist of it. If anyone ever makes a movie of my life I’m sure it would be a cute moment, but, to be perfectly honest, I thought it was a very traumatic experience for very little food …

But anything this theatrical was always going to be something I’d be drawn to. I persevered. It’s fun. If you have the right kind of friends it makes a great relaxed starter. Warm summer day. Long leisurely lunch under the dabbled shade of a pear tree. Chilled white wine … (In this scenario, I’m still twenty-five and wearing floaty white cotton ..)

You have to wonder who the first person was who decided it was worth eating. It doesn’t look promising, does it!

The Globe Artichoke is a member of the thistle family and the big ones come from the top. The little ones, which you find in antipasti, are the ones that grow up the side. When you buy them, look for artichokes which feel heavy and ‘squeaky’.

Snap off the stalks. If you are super clever you can get rid of some of the ‘choke’ (more of that later), but I find that’s a hit and miss affair. They often snap further down the stalk and then you haven’t got enough leverage.

Regardless, level the base. You want your artichoke to sit level on a plate. I rub a cut lemon over the cut surface to prevent it turning brown.

At this point, I put some water on to boil. You need a big stainless steel pan which will snugly hold the artichokes you’re going to cook.

Then, it’s back to the globe artichoke. The only bit which is edible is the fleshy base bit on the leaves and the heart. So, without any angst, cut off the top third.

This is entirely optional, but I tidy my artichokes up. I use my kitchen scissors and cut off the raggedy pointy tops.

It would have been a good idea to have rubbed some lemon on the cut top too, but I didn’t.

By now your water should be boiling and I turn it into a simple court bouillon. That sounds fancy but it’s just water with some ‘flavourings’. Roughly, add 2 teaspoons of salt and the same of white wine vinegar for every 2 pints/1.2 litres of water. Then, I add a glug of white wine and the same of olive oil. The olive oil is there to make the cooked artichoke shiny so it doesn’t need to be multiplied up if you are cooking more. If it hadn’t been raining, I would have added a couple of fresh bay leaves.

Put the lid on, bring back to the boil and simmer for 30 minutes. How long it takes to cook depends on the size of the artichoke, so at the end of the half hour it’s worth checking. You do that by pulling on one of the leaves. Since I’ve tidied my artichokes up, I pull on one of the leaves near the top. These aren’t done – so there’s nothing to see.

Flip over and continue cooking. Another 10-15 minutes.

And check again. Give one of the leaves a pull and if it’s cooked it will come away easily.

Place upside down in a colander or big sieve and allow the water to drain away.

Now is the time to make the dipping sauce. It could be something as simple as melted butter, maybe with a bit of lemon. The classic is a vinaigrette and there are endless variations on that. I really like Hollandaise Sauce – so that’s what I made to go with these.

Serve globe artichokes warm. Eat with your fingers.

And, here’s how …

Start at the bottom of the artichoke and pull a leaf off. The base is ‘fleshy’. Dip it in your sauce, flip it over and use your bottom teeth to scrape that bit off.

And keep going. You can chuck the discarded leaves in a bowl or make a pretty flower arrangement. I trained my children to do that!

And keep going …

Until it looks like this.

This bit you just pull away.

Underneath is the ‘choke’. It’s from the thistle family, remember, and this bit is inedible. Get a spoon and scrape it all away. You have now reached the much prized ‘heart’.

A little salt and pepper. More parsimonious eating of the Hollandaise and Jem would have had more to smear across the heart, but there you go. Cut it into bite sized pieces and eat.

Globe Artichokes

Entirely flexible!

1 globe artichoke per person
water, enough to cover
salt, 2 tsp for every 2 pints/1.2 litres of water
white wine vinegar, 2 tsp for every 2 pints/1.2 litres of water
white wine, a glug per artichoke
olive oil, a glug (this is to make the cooked artichokes shiny)
bay leaves, 2

Put some water on to boil. This is for the court bouillon (flavoured cooking water). You need a stainless steel pan with a lid which will comfortably, but snugly, hold your artichokes and use enough water to cover them.

Meanwhile, prepare your globe artichokes. Snap off the stalk and use a sharp knife to level. Pass a cut lemon across the cut surface to prevent oxidation. Cut off the top third and cut the tips of each of the artichoke leaves. (This is decorative and entirely optional.)

Roughly, add 2 teaspoons of salt and the same of white wine vinegar for every 2 pints/1.2 litres of water you are using. Then, add a glug of white wine per artichoke. A couple of bay leaves and a single glug of olive oil to encourage a shiny finish to your cooked artichoke.

Add the prepared artichokes to the water. Bring back to the boil, cover, turn the heat down to a simmer and cook for 30 minutes. Exact cooking time will depend on the size of your artichokes but checking is easy. After 30 minutes lift an artichoke out of the water and give one of the leaves a tug. (On an untrimmed artichoke try about 3 leaves down.) If it comes away, it is cooked.

Otherwise, flip the artichokes over and continue cooking for another 10-15 minutes. Check again.

Once cooked, remove from the court bouillon and allow to drain upside down.

Serve warm with a dipping sauce. Vinaigrette, melted butter with a dash of lemon and Hollandaise Sauce are all lovely.

It’s kind to provide finger bowls filled with warm water and a slice of lemon. This is a messy business!

Eat.

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Hollandaise Sauce

No-one needs Hollandaise, but wouldn’t life be a poorer thing without it?

It’s one of the five ‘mother’ sauces in French Haute Cuisine and I suspect that’s why it’s got the reputation as ‘difficult’ – but if you resolutely refuse to be star-struck, it really isn’t a diva to make. Just do it. You’ll never look back. And, even if the worst happens, if you make it in a small quantity the ingredient investment is tiny. Time-wise it’s less than ten minutes. Then go again. In the privacy of your own kitchen, who’s watching???

I just love it. It’s perfect with Globe Artichokes, steamed asparagus, poached salmon, Eggs Benedict …

I didn’t even have to think about that.

There is no disguising how much butter goes in.

Oh well!

You’ll see from the photo I’ve already made a ‘choice’. I don’t clarify my butter. I use a good quality butter – one I like the taste of. Unsalted or salted doesn’t really matter. If you use unsalted you’ll need to add a pinch of salt at the end – and with salted you probably won’t need to.

Nor do I do the super-classical vinegar reduction thing. The reason you’d do it is to raise the temperature at which your egg will curdle. It’s a PH thing. By using a ‘bowl over water’ method I’m using a very gentle heat and I find I’m in total control. I can honestly say I don’t give the PH content a thought.

For such a simple little sauce there are a surprising number of methods to choose from. Foodies generally agree the ‘blender method’ lacks flavour when ‘tasted alongside a classically made Hollandaise’. But, who does that ‘tasting alongside’ thing? The blender method is marginally quicker in that you blitz the egg yolk and trickle in melted butter but I don’t do it. The reason has nothing to do with taste but because I hate washing the blasted blender up. Besides which, I’ve been making Hollandaise longer than I’ve owned a blender. Plus, with the bowl method, it’s easier to make in smaller quantities – and, since it’s a sauce you need to make in the quantity you want to use it, that’s useful.

More recently, I’ve also tried and rejected the ‘direct saucepan’ method because I ended up with a thin eggy mess – twice. I haven’t decided whether that’s because my saucepan lacks ‘bottom’ or whether a ‘Simmering Plate’ is too fierce. I could use the hob and go and buy a diffuser .. but, I’m not going to.

Much though I hate unnecessary washing up, I really can’t see there’s much to worry about using a pyrex bowl over a saucepan of barely simmering water. The bowl goes in the dishwasher and the saucepan gets a quick wipe and it’s back in the drawer. It’s a method which is entirely more forgiving and I don’t want the stress.

Purists will say you need to use a stainless steel bowl – but I prefer to see what’s happening to my water below my sauce. You want scarcely a bubble. Make sure the water won’t come into contact with the bottom of the bowl.

Take your butter from the fridge. For every egg yolk you need 55g/2oz butter. Cut into cubes.

I’m making a super-small amount here. Just enough for two of us. One egg yolk. In a bowl set above – but not touching – a saucepan of barely simmering water. Stainless or otherwise. Together with 1 teaspoon-ish of cold tap water.

Give it a whisk. The only thing you have to know is ‘keep everything moving’. You’re making an emulsified sauce.

And then drop in the first cube of butter. When it’s been incorporated, drop in the second.

And keep going. Keep everything moving. I use a figure of eight movement with my whisk.

And the final cube of butter.

Then a splash of lemon juice. About ½ tsp for each egg yolk, but if you prefer your Hollandaise a little more lemony you can add a little more.

Transfer to a bowl. Season to taste. Salt, maybe. I rarely do as I use salted butter. White pepper will mean you don’t have any black flecks. If you’d like it a little thinner, then add a tablespoon of hot water.

And that’s it.

If it all goes horribly wrong (and that might matter if you are making a larger quantity), there are some things you can do. At the first hint of curdling add a splash of hot water and then slow down the rate at which you are adding the butter. If your disaster is more extreme you’ll need to strain your sauce. Keep what’s left warm and begin again in a clean bowl. You can then whisk in the strained sauce. Of course, you’ll have more Hollandaise but what a lovely problem to have.

It won’t re-heat. If you need to ‘hold’ your Hollandaise while you pull anything else together or wait for friends to arrive/get up the best way is to pour it into a warmed flask. Two hours max. It works like a dream. You could also hold it in the bain marie – that’s the bowl above warm water. You want a holding temperature of 145°F/63°C. (Use the flask!)

Start the diet tomorrow. Eat.

Hollandaise Sauce

Serves 2 – 1 egg yolk – can easily be multiplied.

1 free-range, organic egg yolk – as fresh as you can get it
a splash of cold water, about 1 tsp
55g/2oz good quality butter, fridge-cold and diced
a splash of lemon juice, about ½ tsp but to taste
Season, to taste

Set a clean bowl above an 2.5cm/1″ of barely simmering water. It’s important water doesn’t come into direct contact with the bottom of the bowl.

Place 1 egg yolk in the bowl, together with a splash of cold water and whisk together.

Add a cube of cold butter. Whisk continuously. In order to emulsify everything you need to keep it all moving. As soon as your cube of butter has been incorporated, add the next. And the next.

Before your eyes your sauce will thicken.

When all the butter has been incorporated, add a splash of lemon juice. Season to taste.

Eat.

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