RUBY SATURDAY...

and London Calling

By kind permission of The Sunday Times Ireland, published 28 July 2024

The cool, damp Summer continues. At this stage in July, our tomatoes would normally be reaching the giving-them-away-to-friends stage of abundance, but not this year. Imagine my shame when I had to augment them with ones from the supermarket when we entertained 32 family and friends to lunch last Saturday.

The occasion was our 40th wedding anniversary and the menu centred on a whole baked ham as a nostalgic nod to the meal we had with our parents and guests back in 1984 at the Conyngham Arms in Slane. On that occasion, it was served hot with a madeira sauce. For the anniversary it was cold and accompanied by lots of salads: a Greek one featuring said tomatoes, cucumbers, red onion, kalamata olives, feta, Greek olive oil and lots of lemon juice; watermelon with feta and mint; very thinly sliced fennel with orange and olive oil; and, of course, a great big green one that was roughly half lettuce and half endive, a fabulously vigorous variety called En Cornet de Bordeaux, that adds a very grown-up bitter kick.

The day before, I lit some charcoal and blackened some peppers until they collapsed slightly and I blistered a few aubergines until they collapsed completely. Having been skinned, the peppers were cut into narrow strips and dressed with olive oil and just a touch of sherry vinegar; the aubergine flesh was blitzed with tahini, garlic, lemon juice, ground cumin and a bit of salt to make a seriously smoky baba ghanoush. A further nostalgic nod to our 1984 feast was a platter of avocado and prawns anointed with Marie Rose sauce.

This contemporary feast concluded with cheese – Mount Leinster, Sobhriste from the Lost Valley Dairy in north Cork, Crémeux de Bourgogne with Summer truffle – and a vast quantity of strawberries, brought by our youngest daughter from Wexford. Such is the state of our potato crop that she also brought a bag of Wexford Queens which were every bit as good as homegrown.

Back in July 1984, my mother-in-law decided that a sparkling wine called Veuve du Vernay be served throughout the meal and it certainly did the job. It’s still made but no longer sold in Ireland. On this occasion we went with Aldi’s Unearthed Custoza, a fresh, straightforward, gently floral Italian white and their Specially Selected Vin Rouge du Liban, a fruity, forward and deliciously easy-drinking red from the Lebanon of all places. Johann’s homemade elderflower cordial with sparkling water kept the drivers and non-drinkers happy while the children hoovered up a large quantity of apple juice.

Our niece-in-law, Catherine, who is a highly accomplished baker, produced myriad wonderful sourdough buns the very last of which, with leftover ham and some fresh hollandaise, made eggs Benedict, the breakfast of champions.

A little before these festivities, I took Catherine’s son Conor, my grand-nephew, who is eleven, to London via Bath on a road trip. We had a lot of fun for the better part of a week. On our last day, as we headed over the Severn Bridge towards Fishguard I asked him what was the best part of our adventure. There was no hesitation. “The restaurants,” he said.

And what restaurants they were! We kicked off with dinner at hyper-fashionable The Devonshire, the star of the week. His smoked salmon, fillet steak and sticky toffee were all pronounced great but the ne plus ultra, as far as he was concerned, were the duck fat chips. And I have to agree, having stolen some. My Iberico pork chop, cooked to the nanosecond of succulence, was a simple joy and my bread a butter pudding was an ethereal delight

.

Conor’s fish and chips at Bentley’s were, as one would expect, perfect while my Achill oysters prepared the palate for a tremendously labour-intensive dressed crab, followed by baby squid stuffed with chorizo, served with clams and a buttery broth. Sublime.

Sunday lunch was at Claude Bosi’s relatively new and truly lovely Josephine Bouchon on Fulham Road. It’s a friendly, bustling place, quite a contrast to Bosi’s formal and frankly fabulous Bibendum down the road, not least in terms of prices. We had a whole roast chicken (dismembered and served with its fabulously intense jus in a casserole) with crunchy potatoes and salad for £56 and brought away a substantial doggy bag. The plat du jour is £15.50 every day and features, for example, Toulouse sausage and mash and pork belly with sauce charcutière. I desperately want to go back.

A visit to the venerable American restaurant, Joe Allen’s in Covent Garden, yielded a chilli beef dish that made Conor very happy although he was  clear that their cheesecake “is not a patch on grandma’s”. And he’s right.

We had two nights in Bath where the culinary adventure didn’t scale such dizzy heights but should you be passing through I have to say we had a very decent seafood experience in The Scallop Shell and lovely pizzas in The Oven, both in the centre of this outstandingly beautiful city.

Now, it’s very much back to the garden. Conor is coming to help me plant some fruit trees (we were given a couple of Japanese pear trees by Johann’s sister, Madeline McKeever of Brown Envelope Seeds), some pines and a few pot-bound walnuts. There will also be some clearing in the woods and, of course, a considerable amount of cooking. I’m hoping that such activities become the habits of a lifetime for him. They certainly did for me.

Wine:

David Whelehan, whose stunning wine store is where the old Silver Tassie used to be, has an unerring nose for both quality and value. And here’s a case in point: Château Beauchene Côtes du Rhône Viognier 2023 (€22 whelehanswines.ie) is the best value white wine I’ve tasted this year. Not only is it 100% peachy, luscious Viognier, it has 6 months in French oak, an influence that whispers rather than shouts. I am very happy to have this as an aperitif but it also pairs well with brown crab meat and, curiously, with a Thai green curry. Not for keeping, but that won’t be a problem.