Bread salad and fools

I haven't gone mad, honest. There is reason to the title of this post; it's simply the name of the two best things I've made to eat so far this summer.

Pair a bread salad with some barbecued meat, then make a fool for pudding. You'll end up with a perfect summer's evening meal that's delicious, good for you, frugal, and ridiculously easy to make.

These are the things to eat outdoors on one of those rare, balmy summer nights that only seem to crop up a few times a year, those you can't waste for fear of never getting another, those that make you accidentally neck a bottle of wine on a Tuesday for no reason other than that it's sunny and warm and that must be celebrated. You know the sort.

I'm sure I've eaten a bread salad before and enjoyed it, but I can't remember ever making one. What an oversight. This is one of those dishes where a seemingly run-of-the mill set of ingredients combine to make something unexpectedly marvellous.

A few fridge and store cupboard staples, half a loaf of stale bread, mix it all up, leave it for a bit and.... ooh that's good. Remarkably good. Sweet tomatoes, the fresh crunch of cucumber, oil soaked chewy bread, peppery basil. It's more-ish, very more-ish.

I've made two this week, the first a proper panzanella (give or take a couple of ingredients), the classic Tuscan version with basil. The second was a more makeshift affair with olives and parsley in place of the basil. Both were great.

Panzanella (Tuscan bread salad), enough for 2 as a side or 1 as a main dish

Half a loaf of crusty bread, a day or two old
about 6 small ripe tomatoes
about a third of a large cucumber
3 spring onions or half a red onion
a handful of basil leaves
extra virgin olive oil
red wine vinegar
salt and pepper

Makeshift bread salad

Exactly the same as above, but substitute the basil for parsley, the red wine vinegar for white wine vinegar, and add 7 or 8 fat green olives.

Both versions are made in exactly the same way: Cut the bread into 2cm chunks and chop up the vegetables into slightly smaller pieces. Throw the lot in a large bowl and pour in a good splash of oil and vinegar. I'd say about 2-3 tablespoons of olive oil and one of vinegar. Season with a good grind of pepper and a quick grind of salt. Mix the whole lot up and leave it for a few minutes. Tear the basil leaves up a bit then add them to the bowl. Mix again then taste to check the seasoning. Add more oil/vinegar/salt/pepper as necessary. Leave for another 10 minutes or so then serve.

On to pudding. I'm in love with our native British fruits, which I think are the finest in the world. I'm absolutely sure about this and have waffled on about why on here before. All you lovers of sweaty tasting tropical specimens are wrong.

At this time of year the obvious choice is a ripe, in season berry served unadorned with cream, but that's not really an option when you have a glut of sour, tougher fruit that needs heat to make it palatable. What you need for gooseberries or rhubarb is a fool. In cooler weather a crumble would be the thing, but in the heat it has to be a fool. A bloody lovely great fool of nothing but fruit, cream and sugar.

Gooseberry or rhubarb fool, enough for four

About 250g gooseberries or rhubarb
2 tablespoons or so of sugar
250ml double cream, or creme fraiche also works well

Stew down the fruit in a pan with some sugar. You don't want any bite left to the fruit but you don't want a puree either. Stop when it's half mush and half still discernable berries or pieces. Taste it and add more sugar if you think it needs it. Leave to cool down until it's no warmer than room temperature. Whip the cream until it stands in soft peaks, then stir in the fruit. Spoon into ramekins, glasses or whatever you want to serve it in then put them in the fridge for twenty minutes or so. Serve cold straight from the fridge.

The Great Barn Restaurant, Hardwick Hall, Derbyshire

Before we get on to the food, how about some architecture? Hardwick Hall is a magnificent building, just look at it. The windows are what really wowed me, the extensive use of glass is hugely impressive for something that was built in the 1590's, so much so that it reminds me of things built 300 years or more later, like early modern buildings with its clean lines and restraint in ornamentation. I actually think it looks a bit like Glasgow School of Art.

If this sort of thing interests you I'd definitely recommend a visit, and while you're there you might want to lunch at the Great Barn restaurant, and if you're lucky it might be a good lunch.

Our lunch was good in parts. The long-stewed pigeon, pheasant and rabbit in a game pie was held in an intensely meaty stock, heady with bay, and a lamb stew also tasted great.

Less good were accompanying 'winter vegetables' which included, amongst other things, sugar snap peas. Mmmm wintry. Surely some root veg in addition to the carrots would have made more sense?

I said if you're lucky you might have a very good lunch here, but on the other hand you might not. It feels a bit harsh writing negative things about a restaurant run by a charity (which the National Trust is of course), but if they're going to big themselves up then they deserve to be held to it. 'Creative vegetarian options' is what it says online. Sorry but a potato and aubergine bake comprising slices of aubergine, undercooked potato, undercooked peppers, whole cloves of virtually raw garlic and loads of tinned tomatoes all under a slick of melted cheese does not add up to a 'creative vegetarian option', 'rubbish vegetarian option' would be more apt.

Rhubarb crumble and custard was also poor. First time around it arrived cold, as in actually not even a little bit warm, second time around it was hot but under-sweetened and not very crumbly.

The meat dishes were good, the other things weren't. Service was a bit slow but they were exceedingly busy.   For purposes of comparison, the veggie dish aside, you'd be happy enough with a pub serving food of this standard for under a tenner, as it is here. Visit Hardwick Hall, eat at the Great Barn restaurant, you might be lucky.

6/10


Hardwick Hall
Doe Lea
Chesterfield
S44 5QJ

http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/hardwick/

Good things to eat [Volume 10]: A Cornwall special

I didn't get round to visiting Cornwall until I'd passed thirty. I really shouldn't have left it so long.

Last summer I was on the north coast, in and around Newquay. Thereabouts the coastline is expansive; great sandy beaches, craggy cliffs, crashing waves and dunes. I loved it.

This year I was on the south coast, in and around the Fal estuary. Only 20 miles or so away, but completely different. Here everything is estuarine, muddy creeks snaking between low hills and little boats put-putting between tiny, secluded pebbly beaches. Sailing country, not surfing. Different but equally wonderful.

That's my ode to Cornwall done. You really should go. Now what about the food? If I could give you one piece of advice about eating in this part of the world, it's this: eat whatever you can drag alive from the sea.

The highlight, in both eating and 'cooking an agressive live creature for tea' terms was the crab. I'll own up, we didn't catch these ourselves, they were bought from a fisherman straight from his boat. Two rather large and not very happy spider crabs to be precise.

They were dormant while sat in the bucket (I think the fisherman said to keep them upside down to stop them getting frisky) but livened up no end as soon as they were removed.

It's only at this point you realise why they're called spider crabs, look at the length of those legs!

After a bit of a wrestle the crabs lost and were duly dispatched. They were pretty big so needed around half an hour on a rolling boil to cook through, and them came the tricky bit. Extracting all the juicy morsels of flesh from the body, claws and all of those legs was time consuming but very much worth it. A nutcracker came in handy.

I can't think of any imaginative words to describe their flavour, it was just fresh, sweet, crabby and utterly delicious. We did nothing more with it than eat it scooped up in a lettuce leaf or on butttered brown bread. Divine. It was surprisingly plentiful too, the pair giving up enough meat for eight people.

Out of the same estuary came tiny little shrimps, like the ones that usually end up potted. We did catch these, thought I can't claim the credit (that goes to AS's Aunty). They were almost as lovely as the crab, and in the same sort of way, just beautifully sweet and fresh. They're so tiny that removing the shells is nigh on impossible, but pulling off the heads and just crunching away at the rest worked just fine. I also finally developed a liking for the Chinese habit of sucking the goo out of the heads. Yum.

Still on the seafood front we ate some fat fillets of ling one evening. I'd not eaten this fish before but I'd definitely look out for it again. Before cooking it looked similar to a large cod loin, and the taste wasn't a million miles away either, though I thought it was a little more delicate texture and flavour-wise. Simply baked with lemon and herbs it was very enjoyable.

After an afternoon stroll into St Mawes I couldn't resist having crab again, this time a sandwich in the pub. It wasn't bad, but our crab won by a mile. The meat was fresh and sweet, but there wasn't a great deal of it for the price (£9.50) and it hadn't been picked very carefully (I counted three pieces of shell).

We didn't survive on seafood alone, and it's at this point I should thank my girlfriend's (that's AS in case you were wondering) relatives for their hospitality, and for their brilliant cooking. Except for the pub sandwich and my dubious contribution in manhandling a crab everything in this post is their work. Thanks everyone!

Puddings were no afterthought. For three evenings in a row dessert was a celebration of British fruit. For someone who loves our native fruits as much as I do, this was a very good thing. There was a dream of a brioche summer pudding, resplendent and crimson, and a mouth-puckeringly tart gooseberry crumble.

And then there was this, a rhubarb meringue roulade. Think rhubarb fool crossed with pavlova. Add extra cream, then eat far too much of it far too quickly on account of its deliciousness.

I've talked about lunch and tea, but not breakfast. There was more fruit, with yoghurt and granola, but you don't want to hear about that, you want breakfast meat.

Ta da! The best way to cook an enormous fry-up for loads of people is outdoors, in a huge paella pan. Eggs were squeezed in the gaps and the whole lot served from the pan as a centrepiece to the table. 

So there you have it. I can't think of many finer days than one that includes both black pudding and summer pudding, sunshine, crabmeat, and the sea. Go to Cornwall.