T'was the night before Christmas

So dressed in my finery I join the other festive diners with an air of expectation, as for the hotel guests, we are embarking on our initial culinary adventure with the first of Robert Thompson’s three tasting menus. The non-residents, I suspect, have chosen their favourite of the menu trio also. I've selected the most elaborate for tonight's dinner, the slightly less extravagant for Christmas lunch and more modest for Boxing Day lunch. My rationale is that I've had time to summon a little hunger in preparation for the feast tonight, and I’ll have less time to work up an appetite tomorrow and the day after. At the corner table I see L and B from Christmas here last year. They are joined also by L’s sister C (or is it K?) We were the only people availing ourselves of the Hambrough’s chic boutique rooms last year but this year the hotel is full and I wonder which tables seat the other guests.   

I start with the delicious gooey cheese filled gougères, this time on a square of slate, and a glass of cassis laced Champagne to get the tastebuds tingling.   

Todays appetiser is a little white onion velouté topped with winter-warming chermoula foam.

Next is the Mackerel with Island Potato and Osietra Caviar. The elegant cubes of fish, slivers of potato salad, nuggets of haricot vert are arranged in a tower of discs. I wouldn't generally choose a dish like mackerel but it had a delicate, clean taste with fresh iron-y zing of the pearls of caviar. 

One of my most favourite aromas starts to assail my senses as a soup dish of Velouté of Jerusalem Artichoke with Parmesan, Black Winter Truffle and Wild Mushroom Brioche is delivered. The soup is delicious, woodsy, creamy with tantalizing shards of Parmesan melting into its depth with a scattering of the finest chopped chive rings.  But the star of the show is the slices of black truffle, the heady perfume extends to the baked-in-a-flowerpot warm brioche and the salt crystaled butter. Just layer upon layer of truffle-y goodness, this is nirvana, I've died and gone to epicurean heaven. Every morsel of this elixir is polished off, this is superb cooking. 

The Pressing of Foie Gras and Wild Duck, Caramelised Clementine Puree, Pain d’epice and Watercress Salad is a smooth marbled slab of delicate meaty morsels bordered by two walls of the thinnest, crispiest spicy ginger bread.  Each forkful can be dunked in the tangy streaks of vibrant clementine. 

One fresh pasta cushion filled with light chunks of langoustine surrounded by autumnal spheres of pumpkin partially submerged under nutty foam or otherwise Raviole of Langoustine, Pumpkin with Sautéed Swiss Chard and Almond Cappuccino.

I'm starting to fade a little so have asked for a rest after my fish course. What I have awaiting me is a beautiful hunk of burnished golden Cornish Turbot on the Bone. Stew of Cannelloni Beans, Clams, Cockles and Horseradish. I always think that open clams add a quintessential flash of seashore sunshine to a meal and this is how this dish makes me feel.  It’s too dark to see the sea outside but I can enjoy the seaside on my plate. The turbot yields to white soft flakes at the merest fork, there are, annoyingly, more bones than I'd like to spoil my eating pleasure (and I don't mean the bone it’s cooked on!) but fish can be infuriating like that. I've never been a huge fan of cannelloni beans, and I'm still not convinced but I gave them a try. I do like a subtle kick of horseradish however, this horseradish was very subtle, really too subtle, I only believed it was in the dish because the menu told me so. 

The beef is coming next and I'm having a breather with a fine Malbec checking out the other diners with that contented, well-fed buzz around the room.

After the longest pause I can muster the main event arrives. Island Beef with Potato Gnocci, Crispy Braised

Oxtail, Salsify and Trompette de le Mort, Oxtail Jus and Parsley Oil. I was fairly sure I would struggle to eat another morsel but here we have draped rosy slices of the rare fillet on top of a flat cake of crunchy oxtail-y loveliness. Then there is the beautifully bronzed salsify, dark dense mushrooms and creamy cauliflower puree. The potato gnocchi were so superior to the lumpen ones last night, still firm but not stodgy. 

And for the final flourish the entire dish is decorated with Jackson Pollock splashes of verdant parsley oil.

Even though I've said how full I am, my waitress asks me if I'd like to partake in the optional cheese course, which is pretty funny. I'd like to at one meal but perhaps with one of the smaller menus. 

The pre-dessert of Sloe Gin Jelly with Pink Champagne Foam is a welcome, light, refreshing and restoring, I'm nearly at the home straight now. 

The signature dessert of the three tasting menus is in front of me - the Dark Chocolate and Hazelnut Layered Parfait with Hazelnut Tuille. The stylish layers of rich chocolate and hazelnut with airy crispy shards of tuille and extravagant wisps of edible gold. Think Michelin starred Nutella! It's picture perfect and I'm admiring its stature whilst chatting to my neighbours on the next table. S and her husband A used to live in the Isle of Wight and can impart oodles of local knowledge which I hope I can profit from. And we also share a love of the Orient Express extravaganzas.  We swap experiences of my trip to Venice and across the US and S and A’s fabulous holiday exploring castles in Scotland on the newly restored Royal Scotsman. We are so absorbed in our tales my dessert keels over with my neglect. The few mouthfuls I have however are very good indeed.  It’s actually after midnight when we finish our drinks and retire to our rooms - so “Merry Christmas”, tomorrow is another day of culinary indulgence - oh my!

Christmas Pudding!

To give the staff some semblance of Christmas celebration the kitchen is closed tonight. Previously they had set up a sumptuous buffet in the dining room but the guests were presumably still too stuffed from Christmas lunch to descend and avail themselves of the goodies. This year they decided instead to offer hampers that can be enjoyed at leisure in the comfort of our rooms. I couldn't see myself being famished any time soon but long time readers of my blog will know that the magic word "hamper" holds particular allure. I'm not sure if it's the Lilliputian size of the items or the surprise factor as each element reveals itself but I've loved a hamper ever since my first tiny one where I'd carefully pack away my doll's tea set after playing with it. And even now when the fat catalogues from Fortnum & Mason, Harvey Nichols, Harrod's and Selfridges plop onto the mat each year I never tire of poring over my "hamper porn". Though I have noticed a distinct change, when I blogged extensively about the latest hampers in November 2008, I mentioned the extraordinary decadence of F&M's Snow Queen (which actually was a plethora of pale wicker hampers) which was retailing for a mind-numbing £25,000 (no, that's not a typo!) and now the top of the range is the Imperial at a still crazy but considerably cheaper £5,000 but all the extravagant satin, cashmere and silver doodads have been removed! But as wonderful as these hampers are you don't generally have a complete meal. Many may contain chutneys, Gentlemen's Relish, exotic teas, jams, preserves, shortbread, water biscuits, nuts, Christmas pudding and cake, chocolates and other items to fill the store cupboard with. The more elaborate box that doesn't have to travel as far may contain a side of smoked salmon or indulgently a cooked ham. I suspect this one, however, will have the emphasis on fresh and eat tonight and not provide accoutrements for the rest of the seasonal eating.


My reverie is disturbed my a knock on the door and my hamper arrives borne by two of the staff accompanied by half a dozen plates and sets of cutlery. I wonder at first if they suspect I'm having a party and then realized that it would make the bedroom picnic much more elegant not having to mix the savoury with the sweet.
Well unsurprisingly each time I delve into my festive hamper another delicious treat emerges.


From the top:
Roasted Macadamia Nuts
Mixed Olives
Parma Ham on Walnut Bread
Marinated Isle of Wight Oyster Mushrooms
Soft Boiled Quails Eggs with Sherry Vinegar and Thyme
Tartare of Aberdeen Angus
Mosaic of Game
Smoked Salmon and Cucumber
Cheese Selection - Comte, Camembert with Calvados, Bleu de Gex Biscuits, Celery and Grapes
Lemon Tart
Shortbreads - Vanilla, Orange and Strawberry
Mince Pies
Vodka Fruit Punch - Tropical Juice, Apple Juice, Lime Juice and Dash of Angostura Bitters


Where do I start? I'm really not hungry but there are particular delights in here I must at least sample. So instead of a leftover turkey sandwich with stuffing or a few slices of remaining glazed ham others may have tonight I have these morsels of deliciousness to pick at all evening. There's a little stainless steel flask keeping the Vodka Fruit Punch cold so I pour a glass and decide what to taste first. I adore steak tartare but even if I'd eaten nothing else all day I struggle to eat too much of it. This is a dinky portion, meaty, piquant and really excellent. Next a few spoons of the mini pot of pressed smoked salmon and cucumber, which was another winner. I'd predicted they'd be something in the realm of the Mosaic of Game, a gentle forking breaks the slice seductively into soupçons of meaty chunks on contact. A couple of the soft boiled quail eggs with the mild vinegary punch go down well as I ponder what poor soul had to peel all those quail eggs and so many I'm going to invariably waste. A sliver of cheese, a few shreds of the Parma ham, a mushroom or two and a bite of a stunning lemon tart. I'm mortified by so much wanton waste, saving it for tomorrow would be pretty pointless as I have another big lunch to accommodate, and apart from the shortbread and nuts not much will keep for travelling onwards on Monday. In retrospect I should have thrown a party, I had enough crockery!
Despite the barely depleted plates every forkful I had was sheer pleasure, the steak tartare, mosaic of game and the lemon tart being real masterpieces. Now truly and utterly stuffed!


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Cley Not Really Next The Sea

Cley, or to give its proper name, Cley Next The Sea is not next to the sea at all. It used to be before a greedy landowner decided to attempt a bit of land-grabbing whilst the rest of the busy trading port were distracted by the Plague. This caused the river to silt up and the sea retreated and a nature reserve was born. I suppose they considered renaming their village but decided that "Cley Quite Close to the Sea" didn't the the same ring to it! So the only sea I've seen is a thin sliver on the horizon beyond the fields from half way up Cley Windmill. Entering the balcony I carefully hook open the door to ensure I'm not stuck out there should a particularly blustery gust of wind slam the door shut behind me. Well I guess they picked the perfect location for a windmill, when its job was to grind corn not necessarily to house passing visitors to Norfolk. Retreating back inside after taking a few photographs espy the ladder leading up to the Wheel Chamber. This is the most sought after room in the mill, it can only be reached by this ladder and once up there a second ladder will take up again to the bathroom. There's a handy winch to help pull your luggage up into the room and the views I believe are even more spectacular.



For breakfast for a change there was smoked haddock and poached egg. If you pre-booked this or the kippers this night before you could start the day a littledifferently otherwise it was a full English. I intend to enjoy the blue skies again and avail myself of some goodies from Picnic Fayre and find a grassy knoll to fling my new picnic blanket upon. I generally seem to explicably acquire picnic hampers despite the so very rare opportunities I have for picnicking (I've alluded to my addiction for hampers before when I mentioned the 'hamper porn' both Fortnum & Mason Harvey Nichols send me every year). This time in Holt I was able to hold myself back on the hamper front and succumb to another lovely picnic blanket instead. Though today I'm most grateful for this transgression as it would not be pleasant sitting on the sodden grass otherwise and now I can perch on a soft spotty waterproof backed blanket to enjoy my impromptu picnic.
Picnic Fayre is a wonderful deli we discovered last year and I'd set my heart on one of their famous venison pies. And whilst I was there I picked up some Snowdonian cheese with garlic and herbs, roasted, salted broad bean snacks and a bottle of proper local apple juice. If I didn't fear that I'd ruin my appetite at the special Wine and Dine event at the mill tonight I would have availed myself of more of their fine fare as it was very tempting. (on returning home the first page this month's Delicious fell open was to a familiar shop front - Picnic Fayre has been short-listed for 'Deli if the Year' - it seems I have good taste!)
Across the road from the deli is Made in Cley, which as well as some jewellery and local photographs sell their own pottery. Much of it is too colourful for me but I love the minimalist white flan dish and being without a picnic hamper I am devoid of plates so I could make use of it for my small feast and gain an attractive dish into the bargain.


I found a idyllic spot to soak up a few rays of sun and see if the venison pie is as delicious as I remembered and delighted to find that it was as moist and meaty as last year and definitely worth the acclaim. The apple juice washes it down rather nicely. The whole situation seems redolent of "piles of ham sandwiches and lashings of Ginger beer" that used to fuel the intrepid adventures of Enid Blyton's Famous Five and marked my first forays into solo reading. I harboured dreams of being George, Ann was too insipid for me and George had no siblings as myself.
Sadly my quintessential English picnic got rained off I shouldn't have really been surprised I was possibly tempting fate the moment I threw my picnic blanket on the ground. A little bit like when you light the barbecue and you think "was that wise, have I really angered the sun god now?" Actually the shower didn't last very long and perhaps I could have lingered over my venison pie but as the first few drops spotted my improvised picnic plate I packed everything up and walk back to the windmill. My plan was to drop off my tripod and find a spot nearer to the mill to reconvene my picnic however it was very fortunate that I went back to my room when I did as suddenly the heavens opened and the brief shower returned bringing back all its friends to form a torrential downpour and it would have been a very sodden picnic if I'd stayed on my grassy knoll.
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I spy Cley

Studying one of the handy guidebooks we picked up in Sheringham we decide that a trip to Cley-next-the-Sea might be in order to procure some provisions for a table picnic back in the cottage tonight.
Cley is unusual on two counts, one - it is pronounced ‘cly’ not ‘clay’ as non-local visitors often mispronounce it and two – it is no longer ‘next-the-sea’ as land reclamation has rearranged the landscape somewhat to cut it off from the coast. And there's a third thing, instead of a typical self-catering cottage you can stay in a seven roomed windmill here.
On our journey we spot a wonderful nod to the local vernacular with a couple of unique road signs around Wiverton (home of the ‘bonkers’ café) to encourage motorists to calm down their speed on the winding lanes and probably raise a smile or two in the process also!
There’s some lovely local pottery and jewellery on show but the main point of our excursion is smoked goodies and pie and other stuff.
Cley Smokehouse is packed with freshly smoked delights and soon our shopping bag is bulging with smoked Barbary duck, kiln roasted hot smoked salmon, potted shrimps, venison pâté and a new taste for us – smoked mussels. D isn’t as fond of smoked comestibles as MC and I but agrees that the mussels are very fine. The smoked haddock looks alluring also but we can’t really incorporate it tonight’s meal and it doesn’t keep particularly. But if we were planning a fish pie it would certainly find its way in there.
Next it’s across the road to Picnic Fayre, a fabulous cornucopia of a multitude of the usual deli delights plus their own unique delights. MC samples their spice paste and peruses the shelves whilst D and I complete our haul. First in the bag is a wonderful plump lavender loaf which we are assured will go with all our savoury bits, roasted broad beans, artichokes in oil, the last two of their special venison pies, herby crisps, Mrs Temple’s Binham Blue for the resident mouse and a rather scrummy soft Cheddar which sadly I cannot recall the name of.
There are some enticing deserts, syrupy treacle tarts, gooey chocolate cakes and voluptuous apple pies but we decide that should there be any room left after all this we have the standbys of chocolate truffles and rather a lot of ginger bears.
We return with our wares and lay it on glass plates on the extravagantly decorated table, I didn’t think until afterwards that it would have looked nicer on the bare wood but at least if there had been any mess, it would have been easier to deal with. You can tell we don’t live here because there is not a cheese board nor cheese knife to be found amongst the copious cupboards and drawers. Our collective kitchens back home are awash with a multitude of cheesy accoutrements but this won’t hamper the cheese consumption it is just duly noted.
As we dine in style we ponder the highlights of our ‘foraged in’ Cley banquet. MC and I agree that the smoked duck, sliced ever so finely atop the wonderful lavender bread and the venison pies win – the guide book listed these pies as one of the top ten things to do whilst in North Norfolk and they are seriously good – worth the trip alone! The venison is gloriously moist and meaty with a light pastry and adorned with a pastry ‘V’. The venison pâté from the smokery and the soft, tangy Cheddar from the deli are both very tasty also. The smoked mussels are considered a success but in small quantities. MC, our resident mouse, has no issue lavishing the local Binham Blue on his bread and we all declare it a fine spread washed down with Drove Orchards Cox’s Orange Pippin apple juice. There’s even a little left for lunch tomorrow should we want, though I suspect that fresh-from-the-sea crab sandwiches will somehow win the day.

Vegging out!

One of the items I’ve had on my list of things to try for way too long is a vegetable box scheme. Well why wouldn’t I? It would be almost like receiving a mini green hamper every week and previous visitors to this little old blog know that ‘hampers are my one weakness’! But my reticence with starting one has always been the age-old ‘how do I deal with the inevitability of being absent when the box arrives?’ It’s not as if I can go to the post office to collect it and the nature of the box demands swift attention.
But my musings were reignited by a terribly kind offer from those lovely people at Abel & Cole to trial one of their legendary vegetable boxes. And on investigating their site and chatting to one of their helpful customer service reps I was given lots of handy suggestions as to where my proposed parcel could lurk in lieu of a handy shed before being lugged to my kitchen. So after informing them that tomatoes mustn’t darken my box, I stood by to give it a go. I knew that Thursday was my delivery day but I wasn’t sure if we’d established which Thursday it would arrive. On returning home I glanced at the couple of sites we’d pondered but there was no box however clearly it had gone into some sort of stealth mode and I didn’t see it until Saturday morning when coincidentally I was on my way to the shops to get some food for my proposed French feast. How I didn’t spot it with one of the bin lids resting jauntily over half of it was a mystery. Perhaps I thought it was rubbish waiting to be collected but there it was lying in wait and eager to be turned into something wonderful.
On revealing the fruit and vegetables therein I was certainly impressed by the bounty. I had a bunch of bananas that MC immediately squirreled away for future snacking knowing that bananas are just yellow tomatoes to me. The mangoes immediately settled what I could make as a light salad tomorrow after the rich excesses of my French feast and the tangerines would add to the festive supplies. The plump firm leeks were immediately pounced on to make a sweet leeks and cider-doused creamy sauce for my Normandy mussel dish; D had designs on the beetroot for their Sunday lunch and I never struggle to find a use for potatoes and even onions, as long as they are finely sliced. The cabbage could accompany the final rashers of smoky bacon or of course, there’s always colcannon. But the earthy mushrooms lurking in their paper bag caught my eye and gave me an idea for properly christening my first vegetable box.
It is Sunday brunch time and there are some leftovers from the lavish French feasting last night and surprisingly some of Harvey Nichol’s finest truffled Brie survived and has been carefully wrapped in waxed paper, perhaps it would like to join forces with my mushrooms and make a heady, highfaluting mushrooms on toast.
Whilst the sliced mushrooms sautéed in some butter and a soupçon of oil, the slice of bread received a slight toasting. The mushrooms are now all lightly bronzed and receive a good few grinds of nutmeg and a little lug of double cream to moisten them. The creamy elixir is tipped onto the slice of toast and topped with a few thick slivers of the truffled Brie and the merest sprinkling of thyme leaves from my sadly very reluctant, shy thyme plant. With a final burnish under the grill to melt the cheese slightly and the fancy-pants mushrooms on toast is ready for its close-up. And as I suspected, it tasted exceedingly good!
Let’s hope I get a chance to do the rest of the box justice before heading off for the Christmas holidays. I regrettably cannot avail myself easily of D and MC’s marvellously abundant allotment so the next best thing will have to a locally sourced, organic vegetable box scheme delivery to my door.
I already have the wonderful “Cooking Outside the Box - the Abel & Cole cookbook” from when it was released a couple of years ago so it’s only seems right and proper that I complement it with the Abel & Cole box, especially now I know that they are experts at dealing with the likelihood of their customers not being around to receive their parcel problem. I guess many of us will be reviewing our dining habits in the inevitable parsimonious months ahead so being creative with spanking fresh vegetables could definitely be a positive and healthy step. Now I know how my box might be camouflaged I wouldn't fail to spot it again.
I think for those of us who aren't vegetable-dodgers (you know who you are) 2009 will have to be the year of embracing the box, I for one am looking forward to it.

Lifting the lid on more hampers...

Just when I thought I’d fantasised about the perfect hamper enough over the last couple of weeks, what do I spy on the printer at work today but a Selfridges voucher with the magic words ‘exclusive Anya Hindmarch-designed Christmas Hampers’ catching my eye. Well, I thought it was worth a little glance at their website!
And on checking it out I was struck by Anya’s quote:

“I have always been fascinated by hampers, their history and Britishness, but am always disappointed by yet another basket whose contents I don’t actually want to keep. When Selfridges asked if I wanted to design a hamper, I leapt at the idea of not only designing a hamper but choosing what I would really like to receive in one. The sort of ‘hamper you would really like hamper'”.

And she has really gone to town on the humble hamper. The yellow accents are very Selfridges for those not in the know and the big bow and A and H and so very Anya Hindmarch, generally emblazoned across her handbags. The range start with ‘Mother’s Ruin’ a tongue-in-cheek one for the mother-in-law containing a bottle of gin and a little cakes iced with the letters H I and C!

The top of the range is the £1000 Ultimate Girl’s, which contains amongst other things, forty bottles of nail varnish. Sadly it seems I can’t be anywhere near being the ‘ultimate girl’ because as much as I always have painted nails, they are always painted in the same colour – black! Well, it keeps things simple! There is also an iPod Nano, a Dolly Parton CD (?), Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Pretty Woman DVDs and the rather wonderful little Luxe travel guides. But surprisingly the only edible thing nestling amongst all the nail varnish, cleansers and tweezers are the (obligatory frankly) Charbonnel et Walker pink champagne truffles and hot chocolate, Anya Hindmarch designed Biscuiteers biscuit tin (with one hopes some biscuits contained therein) and raspberry marshmallow fluff. So the ultimate girl likes to tweeze, anoint and polish, entertain herself by reading etcetera but doesn’t really like to eat! However as Anya Hindmarch is the legendary handbag designer there is also a yellow cracker which well pulled could turn into a designer handbag – bonus! You can even customise your gift with an especially engraved yellow leather luggage tag.

I guess if nails aren’t your thing you could plump for the ‘Glutton’s hamper instead. Here you’ll find the more standard hamper fare, mint thins and chocolate coins, panettone, afternoon tea bags, Gentleman's Relish, coffee, Christmas pudding , brandy butter, ‘The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover' DVD and A.A. Gill’s ‘Breakfast at the Wolseley’. And there is still the opportunity to win a fine handbag to go with your hamper.

There’s also a rather quirky Best of British hamper containing such iconic treats as Black Jacks, marmalade, Harrogate Toffee in a tin, Marmite (ughhh!), a tin of Colman's mustard powder, golden syrup, HP sauce, Monty Python 'The Meaning of Life' DVD and even a little Selfridges black taxi.

I thought before I closed the hamper catalogues for this year I should also check out Harrods though. Their top-of-the-shop most extravagant is the Chairman’s Choice at £5000. This is most exclusive as only eight have been made and in the handmade basket you’ll find a side of salmon, Brie de Meaux, truffle ham and Beluga caviar. And rare gems like a 30-year-old single cask Macallan 30 from Douglas Laing and a bottle of the dry Y de Château Y’quem. The seem to be a very distinct lack of nail polish and the cashmere fripperies so adorned by Snow Queens but there’s plenty of gourmet tuck! It seems that Harrods like to add to the air of mystery – lucky dip approach to hamper buying as they don’t like all the components. For example an individual item you can purchase is a box of luxury silver Pear Tree crackers which for the princely sum of £299 you can delight your guests with “a handmade crown for him or her, a booklet brimming with humour and trivia, a superb individually wrapped gift and a traditional snap”. But what sort of gifts could you expect; I guess there’s only one way to find out. Though I’m fairly sure it wouldn’t be one of those little metal puzzles or a cloth tape measure.

After due consideration I am still firmly in the Harvey Nichols’ and Fortnum and Mason’s camp and would just adore a few choice Harvey Nix goodies with a touch of F&M Snow Queen magic applied. If you haven’t seen the verbal drooling over their hamper offerings this year click here. But to be frank, as I have been privy to several conversations on this subject; especially regarding the wanton excess of the Snow Queen hamper – a princessly £25,000 don’t you know (and that’s not too many noughts!) If I had a spare £25k, one would assume I would live in a place palatial enough to house such enormously plump hampers but if by some extraordinary incredible and totally unlikely luck I was to be suddenly a proud possessor of such a fine assortment of magnificence, I’d probably have to move out. I don’t think there’s room for both me and a Snow Queen in my current abode. But a diva can dream can’t she?

And Fortnum’s if you are reading this, well done for just so fabulously trouncing all the other hampers providers in the unashamed luxury and sheer unadulterated opulence stakes this year with your Snow Queen - you are spoiling us. The Harrods’ Chairman Choice just isn’t even a contender.

Hamper Heaven!

As I’ve mentioned before here, I am very susceptible to a fine hamper. And it’s not just the wicker ones, with several china (and they do have to be china) plates strapped inside their lid, folded red napkins, chequered table cloth, a battery of corkscrews, cheese and bread knives and a dinky salt and pepper mill. But I also love the baskets crammed with all manner of exotic cans, packets and bottles nestling amongst straw or heaven forbid those infuriating polystyrene chips that the moment the basket/box is open my natural static electricity tendencies causes them to leap out of the box and adhere to every available surface. I’ve had this fascination with hampers as long as I can remember; from my first doll sized hampers to the fine specimens I have today. And I have to admit to owning more than one.
Many years ago I received a couple of hampers from my then employers with a heartfelt handwritten note from the chairman thanking me for some arduous task I’d completed. And I was just beside myself. To be honest the scarily lurid green basket immediately became the property to one of my more appreciative neighbours and the goodies therein were occasionally curious and ill advised, but it was a hamper and a lucky dip and just filled me with a strange joy.
Each year when the purveyors of such wicker goodies start plying their wares, I do take a particular fascination in their extensive catalogue and pour over them making the choice of which I’d like to receive most for myself. So last week when both the elegant Harvey Nichols’ and Fortnum and Mason Christmas hamper catalogues plopped on to my doormat much studying was needed and virtual hampers were constructed.
In the pale blue corner there is Fortnum & Mason, they have a stylish slightly remiscent of flock wallpaper fronted catalogue the iconic F&M stencilled on to the exterior of their wicker hampers. They have classic baskets stuffed with sides of smoked salmon, oozy cheeses and cooked hams. They have names like Windsor, St James’, Imperial, Connoisseur, Burlington and the Glorious Three Hundred (a nod to the impressive age of the pale blue foodie emporium). The pinnacle of their hamper menu this year is the Snow Queen at the eye watering price of £25,000 – no your eyes aren’t deceiving you. It may have been a long time ago, but I paid less than that for a house, well strictly half a house as it was a maisonette! And if you’re wondering how you can get your hands on one for the Snow Queen in your life, sadly it’s only available from the UK site, perhaps it would require its own private jet.
But just in case you are wondering how much extravagant food one can fill a single hamper with, the Snow Queen seems to be an array of white hampers just oozing with glamorous items. As well as every epicurean delight you can possibly think of - (think foie gras en croûte for 25, truffles both Champagne laced and chocolate dusted and also rooted out by an obliging dog (I hear pigs are so passé) from around Perigold, Beluga caviar, lashings of bubbly, Snow Queen vodka (naturally) huge meringues and even chocolate mice), there are softer treats. There are cashmere doodads to envelop every part of a snow queen, from slippers to robes, wraps, scarves, gloves and even a hot water bottle cover. There are silver picture frames, candlesticks, plump satin cushions, Champagne flutes, a Champagne jug and leather knick-knacks; it's just a bounty of diva-tastic adornments. Those Snow Queens certainly know how to live it up, check the full contents here.

I must admit the thought of a Snow Queen always seemed a little alluring, I know she’s the baddie but she gets to swan around in fabulous fur trimmed hats and cloaks tended by minions, permanently surrounded by snowflakes and sat regally in her chic white sleigh whilst plying young boys with Turkish Delight (oh no that might be white witch cavorting around Narnia in The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe) and then swooping off to her icy palace near the North Pole. The bad ones always get the best lairs!
Such an indulgent, extravagant, aspirational and entirely unattainable hamper it may but I bet whoever put it all together had a ball. Hmmm I wonder if hamper consultants need a new recruit.
Then in the black and white corner we have Harvey Nichols. Firstly Harvey Nix doesn’t favour the large wicker basket, fastened with leather strap as Fortnum’s do. Not that these are not really lovely but I do ponder as to what the serial hamper receiver would do with all that wicker. Maybe there’s one to take the cat to the vet, one to house all those food magazines they haven’t brought themselves to recycle yet or of course replenished with picnic sweetmeats and hoisted to the nearest grassy knoll. But if you truly did receive one every year, and frankly I am enormously jealous, what would you do with them all? My town is very aggressive with recycling, we have the paper, cardboard, glass, cans, plastic and food waste collected, but no one has ever mentioned what to do with a surplus of wicker baskets. Maybe Harvey Nix considered that or more likely wanted to continue their sleek photographic image theme onto the packaging and eschewed the basket, instead a glossy box adorned with ladies feasting on spaghetti or old Italian men looking a little grumpy will protect the enticing goodies therein.
This time the hampers (some say boxes) are called Epicurean, Connoisseur again, Fashionista, Festive, Contemporary, Indulgence and their top prize – the Ultimate at £2,500. I actually read the Harvey Nix catalogue first so was thinking of the wild excess that is until I turned the pages of the F&M booklet.
The Ultimate is not chock full of cashmere and crystal fripperies but instead has every distinctively designed packet, tin and box you can think of. There's the infamous image of the pig's snout on the mushroom and truffle sauce, the large operatic diva on the pandorinos, the chocolate besmirched boy on the coasters, the beach bums on some biscuits and my favourite the Baci woman on placemats, cups and sweet treats. There are also some rather fetching Peugeot salt and pepper mills, the obligatory Champagne flutes with some fabulous Krug rosé to christen them with, a spice grinder, truffle slicer and a rather splendid Wusthof knife block set. For the full list, click here. Though out of the twenty four hampers I am not sure if this is what I would plump for, if pushed to select a favourite as for example I has some wonderful knifes already and how many knife blocks does one very compact kitchen need? No I’d picked 'Indulgence' – not just because I love the name but as I’m fully knifed-up but don’t yet possess the espresso cup and saucer set that frankly every coffee hater needs. And there still an abundance of little goodies to admire, and I do so adore their packaging – I know it shouldn’t matter but it just does!

To compare the hampers from Fortnum and Mason with those from Harvey Nichols is almost not possible as they are just so different, but if I was selecting my own ingredients for my perfect hamper – The Diva let’s call it, I would have a mixture from both. In the Fortnum’s one you have the making of a full gourmet meal, I’d want the foie gras en croûte and the fresh white truffle of course, the Beluga just because and the smoked salmon. I would have to have the sublime truffly cheese Boschetto al Tartufo and the crab terrine. Now Harvey Nichols speciality is all the great store cupboard ingredients to accompany the above so I’d want plenty of risotto rice, aged Balsamic vinegars, the aforementioned mushroom and truffle sauce, white truffle oil, lemon oil and all the other wonderful little condiments they do so very well in their fifth floor gourmand paradise. Maybe the espresso cups, though Baci di Dama is my favourite image so I’d maybe just have all of those. I’d have the olive wood cheese board to top with the cheeses and any sundry cheese knives they have. As the moths have been merrily making my cashmere their personal playground perhaps I fill the corners of my hamper not filled with some ginger chocolates, macaroons and pink Champagne with some silver of cashmere loveliness. Oh and the whole lot could go in one of the white F&M hampers as I suspect I am part Snow Queen.
I realise not many probably share my fascination for 'hamper porn', but they make me very happy and I just can't help but be drawn to those shiny catalogues, hmmmm hampers!

A Serious fan!

I mentioned recently my joy at finding another seriously good dessert from those clever Serious Food people. This fabulously photogenic Gianduja Mousse with Sea Salted Caramel in their slinky newly revamped ceramic pots was their latest creation to adorn my ever popular heart-shaped plates and it tastes even better than it looks.

And then I heard from the Serious Food PR people, it seems my adoration hasn’t gone unnoticed. Each month fellow Serious Food lovers are sent a newsletter with news on their brands, some recipes from their chefs, details of some tasty competitions and a Serious recommends section.

This month Serious are recommending checking out “Come Dine with Me” (which is definitely one of those shows that make you shout at the TV “why on earth did you say that/cook that or feed that to your unfortunate sadly delusional guests?”, the Food Lover Britain website to enlighten discerning food lovers as to their local foodie treats and finally a blog – in fact this little old blog. Well thank you kindly, Serious Food – the feeling is mutual!

British spears!

It’s one of my favourite times of the year – the brief but eagerly awaited season for our fine, pert British asparagus. It’s a "blink and you’ll miss it occasion" so I intend to make the best of it.

I know that D could rarely agree with me but a well-made quiche can be a thing of beauty. And this tremendous Cuxwold ham & asparagus quiche from those fine people at M&S is a perfect example. The filling is not as densely eggy as some lesser quiches can be, but laced with crème fraîche and cream. The ham is succulent and full-flavoured and the asparagus a perfect foil. But the crowning glory is the pasty, M&S haven’t skimped on this, it is crisp and buttery and crumbles seductively when you knife a small mouthful.

But the asparagus in the quiche was hardly going to satisfy my new season asparagus craving, so a bundle of these verdant beauties was duly added, steamed and anointed in a little butter with a few shaving of Grana Padano showered on top.

To finish this ever so seasonal and frankly delicious feast, a couple of steamed then sautéed potatoes drizzled with a little punchy basil pesto.

Thanks to this stunner of a quiche, the fabulous pesto-y potatoes and these gorgeous British spears I can cornily claim that "Oops I did it again"!

A real good time at the Real Food Festival

If you like visiting farmers’ markets then you will just love the Real Food Festival at Earls’ Court. It a giant farmers’ market, jam-packed with small food and drink producers where you can meet the people who really know and care about their produce, who’ve grown it, tended it and now are here to sell it. You get to sample their produce, discuss the provenance and uses and in some cases you can even meet the produce. As soon as I entered I was intrigued by the sawdust strewn floor, this isn’t Earls’ Court as I’m familiar with and then the second thing you spot is a pen. A pig pen! And the two rather sleepy and porky inhabitants are Pinky – the Middlewhite and Perky – the large black pig (though he was quite small really).

I think they were the only livestock, I spotted a chicken but as it didn’t move from the spot where it was perch proud atop a pyramid of eggs, I am assuming it wasn’t live. After stopping to greet the porkers, I didn’t really know where to turn, I was literally like a child in a sweetshop, and it was truly a cornucopia of foodie delights. There were Pooh-hypnotising jars of honey and a petition to save the bees, stands chock full of chocolate, gardens of herbs, mountains of goats’ cheese (ughh), pots of tea, links upon links of sausages and cupboards full of every condiment imaginable.

To ensure I wasn’t absolutely laden within moments of arriving I vowed to flit from stand to stand like a butterfly and make a considered opinion after exploring the entire hall. Halfway round I found one of the cooking demos and thought I would watch for a while and then continue my grand tour. However they wanted more participants for the next session which is how I ended up making some dough and then a slightly wonky fougasse under the tutorage of Richard Bertinet.

It was a lovely idea, you got to shape (or butcher) the dough as Richard the French boulanger wandered around and wielded his scraper. He doesn’t believe in kneading and pummelling in the traditional way, he works the dough in a very distinctive fashion. And when your dough was “like a baby’s bottom” you dusted it with the merest amount of flour and returned it to the bowl to rest. As his audience might tire of expectantly lurking around the stand for an hour, he instead produced large bowls of previously proven dough which he portioned and handed out so we could each make our own fougasse loaf. These could be customised with black olives, tomatoes, rosemary and/or salt. Naturally I chose just the latter and after about half and hour returned to collect my warm, fragrant and surprisingly good-looking albeit rather arrow-headish loaf. And unsurprisingly I also furnished myself with Richard’s latest book Dough, luckily complete with CD so I can examine his unique dough working technique at leisure.

Whilst my bread is happily baking, I continue my culinary expedition, I wandered onto the white and airily modern Daylesford Organics stand to try and get another deliciously smelling ginger candle but they only seem to have grapefruit and horror of horrors, vine tomatoes!

I find a fabulous array of Richard Bramble gorgeously decorated plates, bowls, boards and linen. It is definitely a collection I would give house-room to if I had any room in my house or flat even.

I’ve hankered after the stunning mussel-festooned porcelain bowls for just so long but I always did wonder if I would feel obliged to only heap them up with creamy, garlicky, finely diced leek-flecked mussels. Such a quandary!

And the same theory applies to the limited edition Jersey Royals bowl, produced to commemorate 125 years of Jersey Royals. They are also on the Jersey stand itself, filled to the brim with the first-of-the-year flaky skinned tubers.

For once to be sensible I have to concede that I have neither the space nor the arm power to transport these highly covetable delights home I console myself with some of their cards itself. I think they will adorn my kitchen cupboards beautifully until I acquire additional enough cupboards to start housing my collection.

On my travels I bought some tasty free-range chicken liver pâté from Brookland White Artisan Poulterers and some of my favourite Stark Naked pesto (come on Waitrose, when will you finally stock this?), they have a bunch of varieties but I went for the usual basil and for a change, some chives.

Harvey Nichols were there promoting their wonderful Grana Padano cheese which I discovered at their cheese and wine evening back in October and have enjoyed ever since. I learnt two intriguing facts, the leftover denuded Grana Padano wheel is often use to house a risotto for a party (what a wonderful idea) and apparently it is also suitable for lactose intolerant diners. Though I've been unable to confirm either statement.

After tasting several balsamic vinegars I went for some unusual varieties from Apulia Blend, firstly a couple of gold meal winners balsamic vinegar syrup with white truffle, a balsamic vinegar with orange and a very intriguing white balsamic vinegar.

I was initiated into the world of granola with some tasty snack pots of jumbo oats, dates and apples from LoveDean. I’ve never liked adding milk to cereal and the fact that these granolas are promoted as milk free nibbles is all terribly interesting.

To enhance my green credentials I purchased some Onya Bags incredibly light nylon bags to use when weighing fruit and vegetables at the supermarket, instead of the usual plastic ones.

I pondered getting some oysters from Fishworks for a future ‘project’ but decided to get them nearer to home so in the interim grabbed a few photos of the magnificent looking crabs and lobsters – a veritable shoal of Pinchies!

Amongst the food and drink producers were also a smattering of the regular suspects at food shows, Proven Products selling my beloved silver Swissline Bamix, Woll Pans and a new one for me some rather fabulous Titan turbo peeler from the ebullient peeler man (who's not going to love a silver versatile peeler with turbo written down the side?) As astonishing as it may seem, I managed to find a shiny contraption that I didn’t possess so I just had to nab this new gadget.

Action against Hunger have been able to procure all sorts of treats for a “Love Food, Fight Hunger” campaign goodie bag. They kindly swapped the Hardens’ guide (which I get anyway) for the Tana Ramsay book (yes, another cookbook that I don’t possess, astonishingly!) and as well of the edible delights pictured there was also a big bag of porridge and another of crisps. It is of course an awfully good cause, and despite the alarming weight of the resultant bag, I hope they will be snapped up by everyone.

I don’t even think I managed to get round the entire show, by the final bell I was flagging considerably looking like a flour dusted packhorse toting all my exciting purchases as well as lashings of pamphlets and frankly couldn’t carry much more even if I did find more things I wanted. I am pleased that sanity prevailed and I didn’t squirrel away some Richard Bramble porcelain in my copious bags, well almost pleased now I’m home!

There are two more days left of possibly my number one ever food show. I noticed that their tagline is ‘fall in love with food all over again’ - I don’t think I needed to fall in love with food again but I’ve certainly fallen in love with food shows again!

Hurry, hurry, hurry to Earls’ Court tomorrow or Sunday, you will have a real good time!