potato, pea and courgette soup, cumin-crusted lamb, roasted tomatoes, aubergine sauce, roast fennel, couscous, sweet potato mash, pear tart
It's really fantastic to go to dinner with friends who are also amazing cooks and excited about food. Last night at dinner with old Suffolk friends, so much of the conversation was about food - not just the fantastic spread that they produced for us but also food in America, food in the South, previous meals we'd had together, recipes we'd traded and their subsequent development, family trade secret recipes (being a Jewish family, it's cheesecake) and the famous Chestnut Cake Incident.
The Chestnut Cake Incident occurred when these friends came to dinner at my parents' house, when I was approximately four years old. The husband is a fantastic dessert and cake cook, and would always bring some amazing concoction to any dinner with us. This time it was a sweet chestnut and chocolate cake. I can remember it vividly, sitting on a plate on the chest in the hall where we eat, the pale-ish brown colour, the light smooth texture, the smell, the taste...
It made such an impression on me that I had to write a thank-you letter afterwards, and on it I smeared a little bit of the left-over cake to remind them how good it smelt. They still have the letter, but somehow Peter never found the recipe again for this orgasmically brilliant cake. So the search for the holy grail continues, and last night another version of the same cake appeared, that they had made the day before. It wasn't the same, we all agreed, although close...but a bit too chocolatey and not enough chestnut, a bit denser, a bit darker. But maybe with a bit of tweaking...
The Chestnut Cake Incident occurred when these friends came to dinner at my parents' house, when I was approximately four years old. The husband is a fantastic dessert and cake cook, and would always bring some amazing concoction to any dinner with us. This time it was a sweet chestnut and chocolate cake. I can remember it vividly, sitting on a plate on the chest in the hall where we eat, the pale-ish brown colour, the light smooth texture, the smell, the taste...
It made such an impression on me that I had to write a thank-you letter afterwards, and on it I smeared a little bit of the left-over cake to remind them how good it smelt. They still have the letter, but somehow Peter never found the recipe again for this orgasmically brilliant cake. So the search for the holy grail continues, and last night another version of the same cake appeared, that they had made the day before. It wasn't the same, we all agreed, although close...but a bit too chocolatey and not enough chestnut, a bit denser, a bit darker. But maybe with a bit of tweaking...
Comments