As Promised

Young R had her birthday in January. Not so young I guess as she's now old enough to drive. Anyway, she requested a Caramelised-Garlic Tart as a celebratory meal. It's taken this long for us to get to it. Forget any stereotypes you might have about young people and fast food. This recipe was full of richness and flavour.

R's Mum--my friend W--had prepared the pastry case. When I arrived we each took our knife, chopping board and head of garlic and started peeling garlic cloves. Yep that's three heads of garlic to flavour this tart. The garlic cloves were then blanched, fried in olive oil and simmered with balsamic vinegar and sugar until they were tender and covered in sauce. Add two types of goats cheese, two varieties of rich cream and a couple of free-range eggs and you have the makings of a delicious custardy tart filling. It was good. We won't talk about calories or cholesterol counts, just focus on flavour and texture and richness . . . 

Colour of a Different Kind

Cooking for one, day after day, isn't my favourite task. I tend to either keep it simple--you can fit several different food groups into a toasted sandwich quickly and easily--or cook up a family sized batch of something or other and freeze portions for another time. One thing I don't do often enough is fresh salads. A few lettuce leaves on the plate doesn't count. The topic came up in conversation yesterday when I was talking about the frustrations of grocery shopping. Just recently I walked in to the fresh food section of a local supermarket, basket in hand, looking for something to turn into dinner. After several minutes of wandering around, I put down the basket and walked out again. I just couldn't get enough thoughts together in my mind to pick out the right combination of ingredients to turn into something both attractive and realistic. On the other hand--perhaps as a reaction to my previous failure to choose--I came home the next day with several fresh beetroot bulbs . . . and no plan for them. My friend L is a trained foodie. She too has the challenge of cooking for one. I asked her what I could do with fresh beetroot. She suggested something like this: Grated beetroot and carrot; chopped celery and spring onion; a bit of grated ginger root and some orange slices--wow! It was chewy and satisfying. It was interesting enough to justify a side-trip to the greengrocer on my way home. And in case you're thinging I'm all too virtuous, I added some crispy bacon for a salty protein boost. I was so excited that I took a photo!

Art?

Don't worry, I'm not going to weigh in to any deep philosophical arguments. I needed a quiet day yesterday. I spent several hours in my big deep armchair with a good book. Ruth Reichl's "Garlic and Sapphires, The Secret Life of a Restaurant Critic in Disguise" was just the thing. Light, clever and insightful, it followed Ruth's progress as Restaurant Critic for the New York Times and the lengths to which she was willing to go to maintain her anonymity. Those lengths included various assumed personalities: complete with wigs, wardrobes, makeup, accents. . . the lot!

After a day reading about the best New York restaurants, I had to make a least a small effort for my evening meal.

If food is art, this is the equivalent of a rough crayon sketch on butchers' paper. Still it brightened up my eating experience and added to the nurture of a simple meal.

Pretty Good

I had friends over last night to help me consume my Christmas leftovers. W had been at work all day and was ready to unwind. A slow meal of bread and cheese was just the thing. She suggested the view of the table was blog-worthy. It looked nowhere near as pretty when we'd finished with it, but our tastebuds and tummies were happy. I'm used to thinking of my friend W's daughter as a "young teenager", but as she reminded me last night, in a few weeks it will be her birthday and she'll be old enough to get her Learner's permit. I feel like an old hand with beginning drivers after helping a friend get his licence a year or two ago, but I couldn't help a moment of nostalgia. It seems only yesterday that "young" R's big challenge was learning her times tables. Ah, the joys of witnessing the next generation and their rites of passage!