A recipe, gift idea and an unexpected snowfall
Days of festive merriment & a diet of foil clad chocolates are underway. A recipe for bacon, brie & cranberry parcels & suggestions as to another gift idea. Plus why it's acceptable to buy Piccalilli
December is up and running. I made a dash for the bright lights & endless shops across the big city of Birmingham yesterday, elbow to elbow with other folk armed with lists and a mission, bags swinging from shoulders and clenched hands. I deviated from my barely legible gift list, such has been my haste to scribble ideas as they come to mind, to dive into an Italian deli off Colmore Row, a path I beat everytime I visit this city. For anyone interested, its’s Anderson & Hill . Don’t be fooled by my enthusiasm here, for it’s pokey inside, where shelves stretch to the ceiling left and right and customers fill the space in between. No matter it’s bijou footprint however, they stock it well. Here’s where I can find most southern european delicacies that get a mention amongst fancy recipes or that are two a penny across shops in Italy and France. Glass jars of beans & chickpeas and tins of confit duck. Primary coloured tins of canned fish and pastes from olives and peppers and artichokes. Bottles of oils and vinegars, their heritage steeped in history and small handmade production are given the same prestige as a bottle of vintage wine. I realise that stores like this are abundant across our great capital city and no doubt some of the well-heeled counties beyond, but across these midlands towns where life plays out for me, they are in woefully short supply.
I am a creature of habit here on my visits; Italian sausages from a London butchery, the rich pork muddled with cracked pepper and fragrant fennel, a wedge of montgomery cheddar weighty enough to tug the bag from my shoulder, paper thin slices of finocchiona salami, a lump of guanciale and one of their enviably slim petite ciabatta loaves, stuffed full of suggestions from a chalk board (almost always with the inclusion of pickles) to devour on the hoof. It’s enough to give me my second wind, where shoppers swarm like bees and Christmas markets mimicking those across Germany and the Alsace region pull a thirsty crowd. Shopping at this time of year is not for the faint hearted.
Snow fell hard overnight. Not a typical flash in the pan flurry that is gone before you can drag a sledge from the shed, but a deep blanket of brilliant white flakes, unspoilt as it fell due to the late hour. I woke across those darkest hours before dawn, where an eerie silence lets you believe you are the only person in the world awake, save for those up to no good. There is an unmistakable light when the world is clad in snow, for all colour is erased from view, save for moonlight and a cloak of pure white able to work in tandem to illuminate with a ghostly light. A heavy snowfall muffles any sound that ordinarily catches and carries in the air, all noise replaced by a calming silence. Watching flakes fall is hypnotising, as though sacks of feathers are being shaken from the sky.
Such occasions give me licence to do nothing, save for potter indoors. Navigating treacherous roads to get somewhere I can easily get to another day once the snow has cleared is not my idea of fun. We have plenty in the fridge and for any emergency supplies, the village store remains open. I wander the main street to fetch milk for us and a block of cheese for my cherished friend next door, who is laid up following an op. A snowball fight, not the romanticised versions depicted in snow scenes on christmas cards, but a crowd of teenagers letting off steam still holds no danger, no matter the brawniness of their overarm throws.
I’d like to intimate here I’m making strides with my Christmas planning, but the real truth is I’ve yet to settle to penning cards and thoughts as to ordering the bird for the big day remain just that. I have half a notion as to what needs to happen across the next twenty seven days before we step into 2024, but this will take shape as we move across the month. Decembers diary swelled to such a mountain of invitations last year - probably egged on by their absence across the two years previous due to Covid - that we found ourselves playing host to different crowds twice across some days, or, as I affectionately titled them, a matinée and evening performance. A lunchtime crowd would convene post dog walk with hot toddies to wash down roast pork cobs poked with stuffing and apple sauce, before clearing the decks and welcoming another gaggle of besties to settle around our table to weighty pans of Beef Rendang and sticky rice, a welcome respite from platefuls of turkey and trimmings across the weeks previous.
There is a giddy momentum to these final weeks of each year, where the gloves are off and it’s perfectly acceptable to feast upon tubs of quality street in place of actual mealtimes. Liquid lunches, a thing of my early working life and all but extinct from the workplace in these modern times have a resurgence and afternoon productivity is low. Any sensible attitude to a school night is shrugged off and replaced with a knees-up in a boozer at the drop of a hat and it’s de rigueur to admit to a stinking hangover on any weekday morning across this month of festive cheer.
Days that fall out of stride with the usual pattern of life inevitably discombobulate, distracting from the countdown to the 25th. I’ve learned the hard way, wrapping presents into the small hours of a Christmas morning and being a slave to the kitchen across most of the big day, propping myself up with Baileys over ice and one hand in the After Eights. I brokered a deal with myself in the New Year of 2012, where my deadline became the 23rd & no matter how late into the night it takes, by the morning of the 24th I am unshackled from the present wrapping, dressing of tables & cleaning of glassware & able to relax into the merriment.
To Make
Bacon, Brie & Cranberry Parcels
During my early years of employment, I used to duck into a rather down at the heel bakery whilst crossing town to our offices and grab a cheese baked pastry of sorts, one where a streak of undercooked bacon with flabby rind would be buried beneath a bubbling cheap cheddar. Grease would render the paper bag it was offered across the counter in useless within mere minutes, pastry sometimes soggy and a mess of a thing to eat, especially when on the hoof. And running late, perpetually so. Some years later it shuttered it’s doors for good, but the memory lived on. I fashioned this recipe in the months ahead of opening my own kitchen takeaway on the high street, swapping out the cheddar for brie and adding a smear of cranberry sauce. With much of any rind removed, bacon rashers are of the back variety and cooked until a smidgen of colour has taken hold.
They were intended for the colder months, but earned an army of fans and rolled across the seasons of summer and spring without breaking a stride. I fancy them still hot from the oven, but our brood will settle to them at any ambient temperature. The simple truth is they are straightforward to knock up, require little by way of a cook time and make a friend of all they meet. Petite versions are passed around on christmas morning here at number eleven, a welcome interlude to tubs of Quality Street and After Eights and foil wrapped Santa’s pulled from the tree. I urge you to give them a go, for they make a mighty fine breakfast on a cold morning and a welcome snack post chilly dog walk. Since Cranberry sauce is for life and not just for christmas in our kitchen, these little treats give reason for it’s rightful place on the shelf all year round. Recipe is tucked below.
To Buy
Piccalilli
It can be made, no doubt with not much faff if time is on side and you have old fashioned patience, but other versions are available. Whilst there is a soothing comfort in the creation of chutneys and preserves, a maslin pan spitting quietly on the stove and jars lined in the oven to sterilise below, it demands hours that are mostly earmarked for more pressing engagements or the penning of cards at this time of year. If you’ve gotten ahead in the autumn months and stocked your pantry well then I applaud you, but the busyness of life seems to have most in it’s 21st century grip. I’ve met plenty of branded versions that fall short of the mark, (if you know, you know) but the offering from those folk at Marks & Spencer’s does the trick, in our household anyway. I have a friend who uses this jar as a base for his meddling, adding florets of lightly steamed cauliflower and chopped gherkin which certainly does no harm, but it’s been given enough thought in its making to be able to leave it well alone and enjoy it if you just want one less thing to do. It finds its way to our table alongside a roasted ham, ham hock persillade or a lump of pork pie, a delicious pickle able to cut through any richness with it’s clean taste.
To Gift
The Cooks Atelier Cookbook
I have followed this American mother & daughter duo -now with a husband and trio of children in tow - for a good while on Instagram. Their store charms the pants off me, all copper pans and white tableware. Our french adventure at the beginning of summer - I wrote about it here - included a couple of nights to hang out in Beaune, breaking the back of the return journey north and an excuse to acquaint myself with their store after crushing on it for years on Instagram. It did not disappoint, not least the hospitable welcome & wonderfully friendly helpfulness extended by Marjorie during my second visit across the two short days we were there. This book is a joy to explore, where evocative imagery and voice given to the narrative compels the reader to dogear pages and devour the suggested recipes and stories within. For anyone with a modicum of interest in the culinary traditions upheld by our french neighbours, this book exemplifies the skills leaned on and dishes served across the seasons. It speaks of darker than the night chocolate birthday cake and heritage tomato tarts flecked with chive. Dark puddles of claret red wine soak into lumps of beef and reference to fromages run amok across pages that excite the tastebuds.
Bacon, Brie and Cranberry Parcels
Makes a dozen
One block (not ready rolled) of puff pastry (500g)
12 rashers back bacon, rind mostly trimmed and discarded
12 tsp cranberry sauce
400g wedge of brie
one egg, beaten with a little milk
Whilst you roll the pastry, your bacon can be cooking. Place the bacon in a single layer on a baking sheet (you may need two, depending on your oven size) and cook in an oven pre-heated to 190°c until it’s cooked through but not in any way crisp. Set aside.
Begin by rolling out the pastry until it’s about 40cm x 30cm by way of a rectangle. Cut into a grid formation using a sharp knife; begin by cutting the pastry in half vertically from the centre of the long side, then cut each of these halves vertically again, to create four rows. About 10cm down the pastry on the shorter side, cut across horizontally, and then again a further 10 cm down, which should then leave you with 12 squares.
Place a teaspoon of cranberry sauce into the centre of each square of pastry, then smear diagonally so it stretches from top left to bottom right corner of each square.
Cut the brie into slices and divide equally between the squares, laying diagonally atop the cranberry. Top this with a slice of the cooked bacon, then, using a pastry brush eggwash the pastry that is visible around these ingredients. Lift the two corners (top right and bottom left) of each square and fold gently over so as to overlay one corner over the other, where the bacon will be visible poking from the top and bottom.
Egg wash this pastry, so as to ensure it takes on colour in the oven, then place on a baking tray in a single layer with slight spacing in between and return to the oven for 8 -12 minutes or until the pastry is puffed, golden and crisp. Remove and place on a wire rack, allowing to cool for a few minutes before serving, since the cranberry sauce can be scalding hot. They can be reheated in the oven if needed and will take a short while to heat through; they need to be piping hot.
Thank you as always for being part of my community here, and please do drop your comments or conversation in the box below, so I can chat with you and find out what you’d like more of to read. Millsie :) x