week 32 Delia's Summer Collection - Delia Smith

'Delia's tarragon chicken' always reminds me of my family. It was a family favourite when I growing up and my Mum and Sister still mention it when we talk about what we are going to have for dinner in the group chat. Its a timeless recipe that seems as equally at home as a mid-week supper or at a fancy dinner party (my sister cooked it at one of her first proper 'weekends away' with her friends. Before everyone got blotto and ended up, fully clothed, in the swimming pool....)

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The recipe features in Delia's Summer Collection and is her take on the French classic poulet au vinaigre. Released the summer I was 12, the Summer Collection is still up there in my top ten cookery books as it introduced me to exotic recipes such as halloumi with capers and lime; and Piedmont peppers (via Elizabeth David); and, in the vegetarian chapter, pasta puttanesca (which Delia describes as 'tart's pasta and advises 'if your'e a strict vegetarian replace the anchovies with another spoonful of capers'). Suddenly the world turned from a murky beige to glorious technicolor.

When I was younger I remember being very vocal that, when I grew up and  had the wherewithal make tarragon chicken for myself, I certainly wouldn't restrict myself to three measly shallots per serving. Then I grew up and realised you had to go and find the shallots, and buy them, and - and this is the real kicker - peel them all individually. And, while I did add as many to the pan, through watering eyes, as I could could be bothered to prepare, with the benefit of hindsight I fully endorse my mother for sticking to the recipe. Sorry Mum for doubting your wisdom.

Another thing that I didn't appreciate as a youngster was the price of sherry. On this occasion I used Marsala, as a substitute for (near enough a pint of) Amontillado, as that's what I had in the cupboard. But if you are economising, or don't have a bottle of sherry knocking around, or want to whip this up for a quick mid-week dinner (and you should, because it;'s wonderful) then you can use white wine or, I think even better, a can of dry cider. Switch up to cider vinegar if you want to carry on the apple theme. 

Delia's Tarragon Chicken

1 chicken, jointed into 8 pieces, or 8 bone-in thighs

150 ml sherry vinegar

2 tbsp fresh tarragon leaves, plus extra to garnish

2 tbsp olive oil

12 shallots, peeled and left whole

4 cloves garlic, peeled and left whole

400 ml Amontillado sherry, Marsala, dry cider or white wine

2 tbsp crème fraîche

salt and freshly ground black pepper

Heat the oil in a large frying pan and season the chicken.

When the oil begins to shimmer, fry the chicken -in two batches, if needed - until brown. Place the browned chicken on a plate.

Add the shallots to the pan, brown these a little, and finally add the garlic cloves to colour slightly. Turn the heat down, return the chicken pieces to the pan, scatter the tarragon leaves all over, then pour in the vinegar and sherry. Bring to a simmer simmer, then turn the heat to a very low setting, so that the whole thing barely bubbles, for 45 minutes.

Halfway through, turn the chicken pieces over in the sauce. When they're ready, remove them to a warm serving dish (right side up) along with the shallots and garlic. 

The sauce will by now have reduced and concentrated. Whisk the crème fraîche into it, taste it and season as required, then pour the sauce all over the chicken and scatter with the sprigs of tarragon.

Saint Delia recommends serving with new potatoes and peas. So I did. The former being straight out the ground at the allotment. The latter were straight out the freezer. Glass of rose with an ice cube optional but very delicious. Cheers to my lovely family, this one's for you.

Week 15 - Feast - Nigella Lawson

As a Good Catholic Girl, it always has to be fish on Good Friday. Normally we would be spending Easter with my Aunt and Uncle and assorted cousins in their little village just outside Leeds. Drinking wine and eating my Aunt's simnel cake and my Uncle's seafood extravaganza, with shellfish fresh from Kirkgate Market.

As staying at home has become our new normal, at least for now, I turned again to the wonderful Nigella and made my riff on her Blakean fish pie, from her Easter chapter in Feast.

Choosing a favourite book of hers would be akin to choosing a favourite child, but this is a good one, with the chapters arranged to celebrate various different feasts throughout the year. It also contains a whole chapter on chocolate cakes, which would make a great #cookbookchallenge, but probably when I can leave the house more than once a day, so I can make sure I will actually still fit through the door...

I have to say, of all my challenges so far, this is the first one that really only paid a mere nod to the recipe (although my wife thinks I fail to follow any instructions, I have been quite disciplined so far...) In fact, although I did briefly skim the recipe, the whole making a stock to poach the fish and the bouquet garni and reducing down saffron-infused cream seemed rather a faff for Nigella. It was certainly too much faff for me.

So I (whisper it) used frozen fish pie mix for the first time, picked up on my weekly shop, and cooked the chunks of cod, smoked haddock and salmon from frozen, along with a bag of frozen prawns. To the fish I added a leek-infused bechamel sauce, and topped with saffron mash. Which gave it a pleasing hue inspired by the title. Although I hadn't made a fish pie before (scarred by the boiled egg-studded pies of my youth, it was excellent. And very easy.

Amy's Blakean Fish Pie (adapted from Nigella Lawson's Feast)

1 kg floury potatoes, peeled and cut into large, even chunks

butter and seasoning to taste

Good pinch of saffron threads, soaked in a little warm milk

1 (400g) bag of frozen fish pie mix or equivalent chunks of fresh fish of your choice

1 (250g) bag of frozen prawns (medium, for preference)

2 leeks, cleaned and chopped into rings and cooked gently in butter until soft

50g butter

50g flour

500ml milk (I used semi-skimmed)

1 tbsp mustard (dijon or wholegrain)

salt and pepper

Boil the potatoes until soft, mash with butter and seasoning to taste and stir in the saffron infused milk.

Melt the butter in a sauce pan on a medium heat, add the flour and stir to make a roux. Cook out for several minutes.

Slowly whisk in the milk, stirring continuously, until the sauce has thickened.

Add the mustard and cooked leeks, season and stir well. (Cover the sauce with cling film if not using straight away, to stop a skin forming).

Place fish pie mix and prawns in a dish (I used a le Creuset casserole dish).

Add bechamel sauce and stir well to combine.

Top with mashed potato, making sure there are no gaps. I like to fluff my mash with a fork to make wavy lines.

Cook in a pre-heated 180c oven for about 40 minutes, or until top is brown and the centre is hot and bubbling.

Eat with peas. Always peas. And maybe a glass of Picpoul.

The Larder House and the Library - Southbourne, Dorset

As much as I'm always excited to try new independent restaurants and bars, I have eaten and drunk enough to understand the appeal of chains. In a world of uncertainty it's sometimes nice to know how many pieces of pepperoni are going to be on your pizza.

Mostly though, it's good to embrace a bit of spontaneity; at least when it comes to dinner. Yes, I have eaten some ill-advised flavour combinations and experienced some comical ineptitude while eating out (chains, of course, are not immune to this, just in a more predictable way), but the passion, humour and innovation when you find somewhere new far outweighs the chance of sampling a duff.

Which is why I was eagerly anticipating our visit to the Larder House, who describe themselves, rather grandly, on their website as being 'infused with traditions of bygone eras and through the continuous researching into the greatest foods from around Europe' despite it's prosaic setting of Southbourne High Street, wedged between the hairdressers and a bank.

As it was also the Ewing's birthday, we started with a few oysters - after seeing them sitting on ice in a wine bucket - as who doesn't love slurping on a fresh bivalve before dinner. Well, me actually, having never really enjoyed any sort of huitre, especially a raw one. These however, while not quite a briny revelation, were rather good. I didn't even need to employ the bijou jug of shallot and red wine vinegar.

One thing I do dig is cured pig and I found it impossible to resist the hand carved ham from Teruel, especially as I had to walk past the sweetly glistening leg in its wooden carving stand on the way to our table. Served with stone baked bread and olive oil, the sweet and nutty meat, edged with ribbons of buttery fat, was porcine perfection and served in a pleasingly generous portion.

The Ewing also had pork - this time gelatinous hunks of long braised pig's cheek served with a Japanese/Iberian fusion of panko-crusted morcilla croquettes and a token scattering of salad.

Behind Stornoway black pudding - my Mum's Scottish neighbour picks up a chub from Charles McLeod for us at Christmas - morcilla might be my favourite type, the iron-rich blood offset by the addition of raisins and rice. Here the sweetness cut through the heft of the pig making for a surprisingly light and springy dish.

A behemoth of a duck breast, from the daily specials board, was nicely judged - arriving the same blushing pink hue as my wife's nose after her afternoon spent  in the sun. Almost better was the pillowy peaks of creamy mash - reminding me of my Dad's, who's a supreme spud masher - and the shiny gravy studded with lardons of pancetta and fresh peas.

Also on as a special was the trio of fish (which no one can now recall, but may have included mackerel and hake) served with a middle eastern inspired melange of samphire, cous cous, harrissa and yoghurt. A fresh and summery combination that made another good looking plate, despite my picture trying its hardest to suggest the contrary. 

Some careful pre-visit menu studying - always a risky prospect - meant I was hotly anticipating the honey and malt cheesecake with caramelized clementine for pudding. Thankfully it took pride of place on the short list of sweets and, apart from the listless slice of citrus fruit that displayed none of the promised char, this was a creamy, crunchy, claggy, joy; my perfect kind of pudding.

The Ewing, in an uncharacteristic move that eschewed all chocolate-related options, went with the blood orange sorbet and berries. Not a dieter's choice - the homemade brandy basket resembled Walter Raleigh's ruff, and was just as big while the tuile wafer wouldn't have looked out of place on Jodrell Bank, but a sensible one to help with helping to cool down and replenish lost fluids (not sure all the g&ts with extra ice really count).

As an ex-librarian of a decade’s good standing after-dinner drinks at the Library, the Larderhouse’s secret speakeasy accessed through a unmarked side door, were a must. Upstairs, in contrast to the light and airy dining room, is styled like an eccentric gentleman’s club - minus the paunchy gents with piggy eyes and port-reddened noses - with décor featuring an array of creepy taxidermy and curios.  

Instead of books, the shelves hold an oeuvre of different spirits from around the world and the international theme continues with a drinks menu that is loosely based on a jaunt across the globe.  It's a concise list of short, punchy drinks that don’t hold back on the booze (or the price, with most ranging from £11-£13), and if nothing works up your thirst they will shake something up off piste, based on your usual drinking preferences - just don’t expect fishbowls or Jaeger bombs.

Cocktail-wise expect the usual kind of schtick, especially if you’ve drunk anywhere in East London in the last decade – drinks served with complimentary popcorn and a plastic statue of liberty, drinks served with lottery tickets (we were quids in - well, singular) and drinks served with dried mushrooms and a stuffed animal. 

The latter accompanied my, succinctly named, Cognac - foie gras washed brandy infused with mushrooms, pretty much just tasted of burning (no bad thing, in my book), although I ramped up the fungi flavour by nibbling on some of the said porcini garnish. The Savoy was very bitter, perfect for  those who like a negroni (unfortunately not all of out party, it seems), although I think my favourite was an off menu libation, based on a whisky sour, well, from what I can remember of it…

If you’ve got a sweet tooth then finish with the Venezuela which in contrast to most of the other drinks we tried, including the delicious, but very tart, non-alcoholic numbers for the baby-carrier – tasted like condensed milk and fruit juice over crushed ice. It’s also served in a very cute tiki-style glass with a lima (probably not really a lima) on the handle. It’s also the only bar I’ve been to where they serve dishes of chocolate raisins to nibble with your drinks, an idea I thoroughly applaud.

Words like quirky, hidden gem and one-off seem to be tacked on to pretty much anything than isn’t an homogeneous high street chain, but the Larder House and Library really do fit the spec. Even more impressive when they occupy the same sort of anonymous high street plot that chains now mostly fill. Add in cocktails, cigars, chocolate raisins and a birthday girl that couldn’t have been happier and it’s clear the Larder House is no weak link.