For Martin

I haven’t written for a while but that’s not to say I haven’t tasted the most amazing food.  It’s just that sometimes I don’t feel like writing about food I just want to eat it and when food looks as good as this

One can surely be forgiven.

This delicious Lancaster lemon tart was waiting for me when I arrived home from work on Saturday. I felt a little bit like the shoemaker might on discovering that elves, as well as being super cute, make pretty nifty cobblers. Delighted that shoemaker must have been to enjoy the benefits of such handiwork but surely he must have also felt a little miffed that he could not produce something so near to perfection.

Yet when my mouth closed over a spoonful of sweet sweet sponge, tangy curd and shatteringly soft pastry I was happy. No, elated - that such a piece of magic had been created while my back was turned.

Unlike myself, Martin makes the finest pastry that helps construct the finest pies and puddings and unlike me he manages to do so while keeping the kitchen neat and tidy.

I am one lucky woman.

His pastry-making skills, I think, are a consequence of having patient hands and a kind heart. I watch him at work and see how gentle he is with flour, butter and lard. How he rolls the dough into a big fat ball and covers it with cling-film and allows it to cool and rest.

On Sunday he baked a chicken pie and we ate this with a beautiful medley of fresh peas, crispy bacon and shallots.

On Monday he made a chunky Moroccan soup. It felt like I’d been dished up all four seasons on one plate: the spiciness of winter; the perkiness of spring; the warm blasts of a sunny summer and the healing colours of autumn.



outtake



And so this posting is for Martin and to thank him for everything he is and does.