a mile­stone

I took it aston­ish­ing­ly well, I thought: her friend arrived to go on their Hal­loween rounds, and it became instant­ly clear that I was… not invit­ed. How has this hap­pened? They were armed with their torch­es. Avery had told me her friend Emi­ly intend­ed to go as the dev­il, and would­n’t it be fun­ny if Avery her­self were to be an angel to walk along­side. But as you see, when Emi­ly turned up, there had been a change in plan: two angels instead of one. I was in the mid­dle of pro­duc­ing Orlan­do’s fault­less mush­room sauce when the door­bell rang, and put down the spoon when I heard the shrieks. Throngs of lit­tle ones rushed up to the door, push­ing aside the big girls, grab­bing at can­dy. The air was win­ter­like with chill and damp, and the girls only JUST let us pose them with the jack o’lantern out­side on the wall and take a pho­to­graph. Then… they were off. I could­n’t do any­thing about it! They glowed white­ly in the night air and I said, “Please be care­ful,” but they were already out of earshot.

We per­suad­ed Emi­ly’s mum in for a drink while I cooked and we rat­tled on con­ver­sa­tion­al­ly through what I thought was a supreme moment of moth­er­hood: the first trick or treat­ing with­out me. Emi­ly is the third of three, so her moth­er seemed imper­vi­ous and I decid­ed the best thing would be to act the same.

Of course an hour or so lat­er they were back, knock­ing on the door with hands stiff with cold, hap­py to take anoth­er hand­ful of can­dy, a kiss, and be off for a sleep­over at Emi­ly’s. We our­selves set­tled down for the most per­fect din­ner. Orlan­do’s instruc­tions for this sauce are min­i­mal, but clear. I think where details are not giv­en, the cook should feel free to impro­vise. For exam­ple, he does­n’t spec­i­fy whether to keep small mush­rooms whole, or quar­ter them or chop them or slice them. That means, do as you like. I myself sliced them, but I think small quar­tered or halved mush­rooms would do as well.

Orlan­do’s Wild Mush­room Sauce
(serves 2, just barely)

Fry 175g mixed wild and cul­ti­vat­ed mush­rooms in a knob of but­ter till brown. Add a fine­ly chopped shal­lot and light­ly brown, then stir in 100ml red or white wine [I used a nice Aus­tralian chardon­nay] and 425g veal stock. Bring to the boil and strain into a clean pan, reserv­ing the mush­rooms. Boil to reduce to 150 ml. When ready to serve, keep sauce at a low sim­mer and grad­u­al­ly beat in 175g chilled but­ter cut in pieces, till thick and glossy. Add mush­rooms, heat through, and serve.

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Orlan­do means this sauce to accom­pa­ny a roast fil­let of veal in a Parme­san crust, which sounds love­ly, but I did not have a fil­let of veal. I had two love­ly, sol­id-gold escalopes from Whole Foods in Kens­ing­ton which I slipped into the fin­ished sauce and poached gen­tly till just cooked: per­haps 5 min­utes. I was rushed back in mem­o­ry to near­ly 20 years ago in St Barths, back before it was cool to go there for any­one but John’s par­ents, and I was tak­en there for the first time. At that time there was no point spend­ing any ener­gy plan­ning what to have for din­ner: one would sim­ply have what was in the super­mar­ket, which was catch as catch can.

That being said, while sparse and unpre­dictable, the ingre­di­ents were spot on, and for me, end­less­ly exot­ic. Triple creme cheeses, goats cheese, avo­ca­dos, super firm gar­lic, real­ly good chick­en stock, and most unex­pect­ed­ly, veal. This meat was not part of my child­hood, but I felt sure I was up to the task, and one of the first dish­es I ever cooked with­out a recipe, these many years ago, was a very sim­ple saute of veal with gar­lic, fresh toma­toes, white wine, mush­rooms and creme fraiche.

Orlan­do’s sauce was superb and the veal sim­ple and ten­der. With it we had the most per­fect pommes dauphi­noise, roast­ed beet­root. I know it’s not ele­gant, but the cheesy, gar­lic, pink sort of sludge at the end, on my plate, was a heav­en­ly thing. And just the taste to take my mind off… an unchap­er­oned Halloween.

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