delicious spring
Until today, I would have said that the English air held an unmistakable warmth of spring. Then I got onto my bike for yoga and positively froze this morning! But a beautiful, crisp day, reminiscent of Saturday’s “Women’s Head of the River Race” on the Thames. Fourth from the left in this photo is the divine Sarah Weaver, in from Cambridge, our houseguest from the evening before. We screamed ourselves silly when she went by. We felt very cool to know someone in the race, and sat with our coffee on the river’s edge, watching the spectacle.
It’s just lovely living so near to the Thames. Someday I will succeed in getting a photograph of the river rolling by outside my bedroom window. In the meantime, all I can do is assure you how hypnotic it is, with the lights glittering over the tidal movement.
Spring, however chilly, has been delicious. I could not have predicted how relaxing it would be to enjoy Life After Cookbook, picking up the threads of my social existence that had been put rather on hold in favor of things like acquiring ISBNs, import licences, writing an index, mailing hundreds of books. We’ve had time to enjoy the frequent visits of dear Cressie, the neighbor cat who defines “fluff.”
Cressie appears in the garden, meowing silently outside the glass door, desperate for some love. Of course, neighborhood opinion is divided between those of us who think of her as Cressie and those of us who think of her as Oscar. It’s not important.
Last week I meandered into Bloomsbury to meet my friend Jen at the phenomenally delicious Honey and Co., brainchild of Sarit Packer and Itamar Srulovich, Middle Eastern chefs extraordinaire. We sat down to the crunchiest cinnamon-flecked, sesame-covered falafel to start, and progressed to a sort of lamb and cauliflower shepherd’s pie with a yogurt and sesame crust. But the star of the lunch was the fresh, grilled sardines, my first ever. Stuffed with herbs and intensely lemony, these small fishes were a revelation. We ate every single bit.
Jen is the ultimate food-loving lunch companion, matching me for obsessiveness bite for bite. We take forever over every dish, analyzing ingredients, combinations of flavors, textures. It’s a great deal of fun, for us (and it means no one else has to put up with us).
I popped into this incredible bookstore on the way home. My theatre-loving friends and family would simply be in heaven, being able to do that.
Simply shelf after shelf of dear Shakespeare.
Why not come home with chocolate bars named for Shakespearean heroines? Truly clever to have the sea salt chocolate named for Miranda, don’t you think?
From that sublime afternoon, it was wonderful to get on the cosy local Southwest train the next day to visit my friend Catherine — in from Philadelphia again, just a month after she was here for my book launch! She was in town to look after her nephews, two of the sweetest boys on the planet. Together with Catherine’s daughter Mimi, we wore those little boys out building train tracks, running to the park. Mimi displayed her squirrel-like climbing skills.
Artie watched in adoring astonishment.
Catherine and I sat peaceably by, secure in the knowledge that we were no longer expected to climb, run, jump or slide. We wondered to each other if we had been able to appreciate our own children as effortlessly as we’re able to enjoy other people’s now, with relaxation and simple enjoyment. Why did we spend so much time in those days planning for what came next — the next nap, meal, activity — instead of revelling in the moment. At least now we’re able to enjoy each other unfettered.
When I succeed in making Catherine’s delectable dark chocolate coconut bars, I will let you know.
On the way home we took time to note the very strict neighborhood dog-walking strictures. Otis is indignant that anyone thinks four dogs are an appropriate limit.
I left their cosy, boyish household, feeling quite envious. The best thing to do was to distract myself with another girly lunch, this time with my boon companion Sue, recent Elf at my birthday bash. I met her in Sloane Square, surely one of the richest atmospheres in the world. For a brief moment, it was fun and luxurious to be surrounded with so many rich-looking people, such beautiful architecture, so many shops filled with beautiful things.
I bought some satin shorts for Avery and gorgeous leggings for myself at my new favorite shop, Club Monaco. Just a treat. What fun for someone who is a rubbish shopper, as a rule.
On to lunch! This time at Rabbit, a sister restaurant to the immensely popular Shed, with the same ethos of extreme seasonality — as in weekly! — and foraging. Three brothers run the vineyard, farm and kitchen of the restaurant, while the father wrote the text for their gorgeous cookbook. And how we ate! You can order little tiny dishes called, appropriately “mouthfuls,” for £1.50, and we took full advantage: endive with goats cheese and pomegranate jam, rabbit rillettes on tiny cheese crackers. Then we proceeded to duck liver tempura, beetroot-cured trout with caviar and shaved beets, veal “stogies,” which were a fabulous concoction of shredded confit meat wrapped in wontons and deep-fried. Heaven! So inspiring.
What fun to sit with a dear friend, savoring unlikely and inventive flavors, solving the world’s problems, then to come home to cook dinner myself, something intensely savory and comforting. This is a variation of the veal chops recipe in our cookbook. It’s also very good with chicken, and with even more mushrooms and a vegetable stock, could easily be a marvellous vegetarian dish.
Pork Tenderloin in a Creamy Mushroom and Madeira sauce
(serves 4 with leftovers)
2 tbsps butter
2 tbsps olive oil
sea salt and fresh black pepper
2 small pork tenderloins, completely trimmed of fat and gristle
6 cloves garlic, finely chopped
8 leaves sage, roughly chopped
1 shallot, finely minced
1 dozen mushrooms, thickly sliced
1 tbsp flour
more butter if needed
1 1/2 cup/375ml beef stock
good splash Madeira or Marsala
1/2 cup/ 118 ml creme fraiche or sour cream
Heat the butter and oil together in a large frying pan with the salt and pepper until they stop foaming, then fry the tenderloins about 2 minutes per side so they get nicely browned. Remove to a plate, then fry the garlic, sage, shallots and mushrooms until soft. Remove to the plate with the pork, taking care to leave as much of the butter and oil behind as possible. Sprinkle the flour onto this fat, adding more butter if needed to make a stiff paste. Whisk in the beef stock and Madeira until the sauce is thickened, then add the creme fraiche and whisk well. Put the pork and mushrooms, along with any juices left on the plate, back into the frying pan and simmer in the sauce until the pork is cooked through. This will take between 10–20 minutes depending on the thickness of the tenderloin. When cooked, turn off the heat and remove the pork from the frying pan and slice into thick slices, then return them to the sauce and heat through. Serve with rice or mashed potatoes.
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This dish is delightfully comforting. Perfect for winter, or for spring that is acting like winter a bit past its prime.
I spent a beautiful lunch with my friend Claire and her two boys, watching them devour my smoked and roasted salmon mousse, little slices of those French crispy toasts, radishes, butter and salt. Claire and I discussed whether or not I, as a foreigner, should begin using British words in order to fit in. Something in me balks — as if it would be fake — at using terms like “mate,” “bloke,” or “blimey.” “Oh, blimey’s one of my favorites,” Claire laughed, but then it can be, she’s got the most sublime Belfast accent. But me? I’d feel like a fake. When she uses words like “sarky,” which I thought meant “snarky” but turns out to be an abbreviation of “sarcastic,” I just wish, wish to be Northern Irish.
“What does ‘mardy’ mean?” I asked.
“Now that, I don’t know,” she said. It turns out to mean “grumpy” or “moody,” so it seems a very useful word to know, especially if I travel to the North where it is common usage.
Before I left, it seemed like a very good idea to put the babies into my bag. They seemed to enjoy it. Freddie first…
Then Angus.
I don’t know who enjoyed it more, the babies or Claire and me. You simply cannot have a care in the world when these two boys are around!
March has been very good to me, here in our London lives. As much as Avery’s life, lately, is a combination of stressful and boring (exam preparations), I selfishly enjoy these weeks when she spends a lot of time at home, curled up on the sofa with piles of notes and books, entertaining things to read about Ireland and Phillip II aloud to us, questions to ask. It is terribly hard to believe that next year, her spot on the sofa will be empty. It’s important to enjoy every cosy moment, however incomprehensible are many of the things that she reads aloud. I finally do understand “Ulsterisation,” but it took awhile.
Next week will see us in Zurich for a short architectural tour, so watch this space. Will it be delicious? I will let you know.