FOOD:Chef Skye Gyngell provided the inspiration for these simple but delicious puddings, writes Domini Kemp
LONDON HAS TO be my favourite city in which to eat out, when I want to try out good restaurants and get some fresh ideas. I know that many chefs would scream "Paris" or "New York" before London, and I agree, up to a point. New York is fantastic for concepts and design, ruthlessly and constantly spitting out anything remotely tired or "yesterday". But, what can be disappointing in NYC is the actual quality of the raw produce. The last time my sister and business partner, Peaches, and I were there on a recce, we stole fantastic menus, sat in stunning surroundings and savoured interesting combinations and flavours. But the actual taste of the ingredients was somewhat disappointing. Call us biased, but the produce from our best small Irish producers can be quite exceptional.
Paris is fabulous for great bistro eating, and the finest place to enjoy some of the best fine-dining in the world. London, however, gets the balance right, when you want the best of both worlds. Its population is big enough to sustain slightly quirky newcomers to the restaurant scene, along with the ubiquitous plethora of celebrity eateries, many of which are dull, but housed in gorgeous rooms. They have the whole gastro-neighbourhood thing down to a tee and the food in restaurants such as Wild Honey or The River Café can be described as sheer, eating pleasure. All in all, it is a perfect place to go and stuff your face for two days, if you're looking for inspiration, new ideas and some very tasty grub.
It was on one of these very quick recces that I managed to squeeze in a visit to the restaurant at Petersham Nurseries, quite near Heathrow. The head chef, Skye Gyngell, writes for Vogue, looks like she models for it, and creates fabulously simple dishes, served in what you could describe as the most gorgeous shed in the world. It is like a Bohemian botanical greenhouse, complete with antique artefacts, beautiful shrubs, twinkly lights, brightly coloured throws, and a dirt floor.
The food is really simple and prices are truly hefty. I was nearly bankrupt after some morels on toast, followed by spiced lamb with sweet potato. But it was one of those heavenly experiences and I heartily recommend a visit.
Both of these recipes are tweaked versions from her first book, A Year in my Kitchen.
Ginger and blackberry pudding (serves four)
The word pudding always puts me off. I think heavy, stodgy, and something Gary Rhodes might force me to bake. But these were a great success and very easy. A note of warning: we made them in single portion dariole moulds and they stuck. So we lined them with greaseproof paper for the second batch. To do this, cut a square of greaseproof paper and then crush it into a tiny ball and dampen it slightly with some water. It will be very pliable and will line the mould or ramekin much easier.
4 tablespoons golden syrup
A small punnet blackberries (approx 16 blackberries)
100g butter, softened
100g caster sugar
2 large eggs
Zest of two lemons
4 knobs of preserved stem ginger, finely chopped
100g self-raising flour
Pinch salt
Preheat an oven to 180 degrees/gas mark four. Line the dariole moulds with greaseproof paper. Squeeze or spoon about one tablespoon of golden syrup into each mould. Drop three or four blackberries into each one and set them aside.
Using an electric beater or the back of a wooden spoon, cream the butter and sugar in a medium-sized bowl until it is light and fluffy. Add the eggs, lemon zest and ginger. Mix well and don't panic if it starts to curdle. Fold in the flour, add the pinch of salt and it'll sort itself out. Spoon the mix evenly into the moulds, place them on a baking tray and bake for about 30 minutes. If your oven has a harsh, dry heat (like mine does and like a lot of Agas do) then cover the puddings with some buttered tinfoil. Bake until a skewer comes out clean. Allow them to cool before removing, and turn upside down, so you get to see the blackberries. Serve with some cream and, if you like, a little leftover syrup from the stemmed ginger.
Chocolate sorbet (serves six)
Just thinking about chocolate sorbets, full of icy, shards of bitter darkness, makes me clench my teeth in a sensitive teeth kind of way. It just doesn't seem right. However, we all agreed this was a mighty fine dessert, perfect for when you want a bit of something sweet, but can't face an entire slice of anything. It was almost like eating a really rich, frozen, cocoa-dusted truffle. You could serve it with some orange slices, which we poached in some water, with some sugar and a splash of orange flower water. The only reason we did this was because I had two bottles of it in the cupboard to use up.
250g caster sugar
600ml water
225g dark chocolate, the higher the cocoa content, the better
1 tablespoon cocoa powder
Heat the sugar and water in a saucepan until the sugar has dissolved and it has gently simmered for about five minutes. It should seem slightly viscous in texture. Roughly chop the chocolate or break into small pieces and put it in a bowl with the cocoa powder. Slowly pour in the sugar syrup, stirring constantly, at first with a wooden spoon and then with a whisk. Keep stirring or gently whisking until the mixture is smooth. Allow it to cool down until it is good and thick and then transfer it to a plastic container and freeze for a few hours. If you have an ice-cream maker, you can use that instead.