Choux Buns With Coffee Custard Filling

Indulgence Coffee is a book about nostalgia. Published in April, it's part of a series by Murdoch Books which aims to celebrate vintage style and "a bygone era when dressing up, serving tea in fine china and writing personal thank you notes afterwards were regarded as simply good manners."

In that, it succeeds, full of beautifully styled photographs featuring lots of vintage crockery and props. The textured matt cover, without the ubiquitous shiny dust jacket also contributes to the dated feel.

The recipes themselves include classics such as coffee mousse, Viennese coffee and a range of traditional cakes as well as ideas for more modern tastes such as self-saucing puddings, panna cotta with coffee jelly, espresso martini and espresso lassi.

Having been to two parties recently where chocolate profiteroles were on the menu, I was keen to try the recipe for Café Choux Puffs, having never made choux pastry before.

Indulgence Coffee Café Choux Puffs

Ingredients
Choux Puffs:
100 grams (3.5 oz) unsalted butter
2 teaspoons caster sugar
125 grams (4.5 oz) plain flour
4 eggs
1 egg beaten with a little water, for glazing
icing sugar, sifted, for dusting
Coffee Custard Filling:
4 egg yolks
55 grams (2 oz) caster sugar
2 tablespoons plain flour
250 ml (9 fl oz) milk
200 ml (7 fl oz) double cream
1 tablespoon freshly made strong espresso coffee
1/2 teaspoon natural vanilla extract

Notes
The recipe advises that the amounts above will make about 32. We halved the amounts, but made our buns smaller which resulted in 27 buns, with enough filling for 24 of them.
We used slightly salted butter.
We didn't bother glazing the choux pastry.
We made some very strong instant coffee instead of espresso (3 heaped teaspoons in a quarter of a mug of boiling water).

Method

• To make the coffee custard, beat the egg yolks and sugar in a bowl until pale and thick, then stir in the flour.

• Bring the milk, cream and coffee to scalding point in a saucepan over medium heat.

• Remove from the heat and gradually whisk the milk mixture into the egg mixture. Return the mixture to the clean saucepan, place over low heat and whisk until the custard just comes to the boil and thickens.

• Remove from the heat and whisk in the vanilla. Transfer to a bowl to cool, cover with clingfilm and refrigerate until required.
  
  
• Preheat the oven to 220 C (200 C for a fan oven). Line two baking trays with baking paper (we used silicon baking sheets).
  
  
• Place the butter, caster sugar and 250 ml water in a saucepan over medium heat and bring to the boil.
  
  
• Remove from the heat, add the flour, and stir until smooth.

• Return to the heat and stir for 1-2 minutes, or until the dough pulls away from the sides of the pan and forms a ball around the spoon.
  
  
• Remove from the heat and add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.
  
  
• Transfer the choux mixture to a piping bag fitted with a 1 cm plain nozzle. (We used a freezer bag and cut a hole in one corner).

• Pipe 5 cm rounds onto the prepared trays and brush with egg glaze (we skipped the glaze).

• Bake for 15 minutes, then reduce the oven temperature to 180 C (160 for a fan oven) and bake for a further 10 minutes, or until crisp. (As our buns were smaller, they were ready in just under 20 minutes in total).

• Transfer to a wire rack, then slice the choux puffs in half to cool.

• Fill the choux puffs with the coffee custard.

• Dust with the icing sugar and serve.

The coffee choux buns were absolutely wonderful!

I'd worried that using extra strong instant coffee instead of espresso wouldn't be ideal but the custard filling was really delicious; the coffee flavour came through clearly. In retrospect, we don't think the icing bag approach was necessary, next time we'll simply spoon and gently flatten the loose choux pastry dough directly onto the baking tray. We were surprised at how simple the choux pastry recipe was, something we definitely want to make again. I'd like to add a little more sweetness to the choux pastry – will need to experiment a little to find a good balance without breaking the choux recipe.

As someone who loves coffee as a flavouring far more than as a drink, a selection of sweet recipes based on coffee is ideal. I also love the pretty, old-school feel of the book. I think it would make a rather lovely gift for someone will similar coffee sensibilities and a love for pretty things and cookery books.

Many to Murdoch Books for the review copy.

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Indulgence Coffee is currently available on Amazon for£6.03, normal price £9.99.

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Hix Oyster & Fish House, Lyme Regis, Dorset

West Dorset has become a place of pilgrimage for food lovers. Not only is it a land of abundance, with wild garlic growing… well, wild… along the verges and dairy cows mooing in delight over the lush green grass, it offers a fabulous selection of top class eating experiences of which we sampled only a few during our 3 day visit.

Having made a resolution to eat more fish, Hix Oyster & Fish House was firmly on our list and I made a reservation a few weeks ahead of our trip.

Its location couldn't be more beautiful, perched on a hillside overlooking a beautiful harbour and a wide expanse of sea. We parked in a nearby car park, followed the wooden arrow and ambled down the steep path towards a cute and quirky wooden hut with sea-themed flotsam and jetsam under the sign outside.

One side and the back of the restaurant are floor to ceiling windows. Before long we were seated at a side window table (ask for one in the bay window for the very best views) enjoying the sunlight flooding in and the beautiful views.

bread and scallop frills; Hix Oyster Ale; a view into the restaurant

water jug and views

For drinks, a jug of tap water, a Palmer's Oyster Ale branded (and possibly made) especially for Hix and a fresh lemonade. And with these came a board carrying lovely, soft bread, a generous pat of butter and hot, freshly fried crunchy scallop frills. All absolutely delicious! Pete was a fan of the Oyster Ale too – we visited Palmers last summer, during a week long holiday in the area.

At the back of the restaurant is a delightful little bar terrace, jutting out over the gardens below and offering an even better perspective on the great outdoors. For a while, we could not tell where sea ended and sky began…

Time to order. Whilst the waiter (possibly also the manager) was reasonably attentive and efficient, he certainly didn't make the ordering process very smooth. I wanted a little more information about a few of the dishes. Here's one exchange about a dish described on the menu only as lobster and monkfish curry:

Me: The lobster and monkfish curry – what kind of curry is it?

Him: Delicious!

Me (after waiting a few moments to see if a more useful answer was forthcoming): Yes. I meant what kind of curry, is it Thai, Indian…?

Him: Indian.

The resoluteness of his one-word answer made me lose the will to try and find out any more about style of curry. In case you're wondering whether he was in a hurry or if I'd been asking a ridiculous number of questions, the restaurant was virtually empty and this was only my second question, the first of which he'd answered much more helpfully. Perhaps he didn't know, in which case I'd have much preferred him simply offering to check with the kitchen.

We made our order and it wasn't long at all before our starters were served.

deep-fried sand eels and Ramson flowers with tartare sauce

My first question before ordering was about the deep-fried sand eels and Ramson flowers with tartare sauce (£8.00), and that one was answered in a more useful fashion – the waiter advised that they were like whitebait, and they were a bit – a little softer but with that same gentle fish flavour, working well in the light crisp batter.

It's only now as I'm writing this that I realise (having researched it after getting back from Dorset, for a recent post) that Ramson = wild garlic! At the time, I was wondering what plant this unfamiliar Ramson was, and no, not much garlic flavour came through to trigger a realisation. But the texture of the flower heads enrobed in the crunchy batter was wonderful.

I found the tartare sauce a bit overpowering against the delicate eels and flower heads, and there was far too much of it on the plate for the volume of tempura.

Cobb smoked salmon 'Hix cure'

The Cobb smoked salmon 'Hix cure' (£11.75) was superb, the cure gave it a really quite special flavour. Whilst a basket of lemon halves wrapped in muslin were offered, no bread or garnish was provided, which surprised us a little.

Unfortunately, the kitchen had obviously decided to make haste before the rush (the place only started filling up a little later). Quite literally within 2-3 minutes of our starter dishes being cleared away (which was itself very quickly after we'd finished eating) our mains were served! This was way too fast, and we were pretty disconcerted – at this rate we'd be in and out of the place in under half an hour – not at all the relaxed, enjoyable evening we'd envisaged.

Still, we got stuck in.

ling fish fingers with chips and mushy peas

Although Pete toyed with ordering the chicken, bacon and egg salad the restaurant's reputation for fish saw him opt finally for the ling fish fingers with chips and mushy peas (£14.50). These were fabulous! Beautifully soft fish fillet wrapped in a thick, crunchy breadcrumb coat, they were poshtalgia at it's best! The mushy peas had a freshness that matched their vivid colour. The chips were good too.

Cornish hake with clams, garlic and parsley

My Cornish hake with clams, garlic and parsley (£20.00) was a thing of beauty. Again, the fish was perfectly cooked and bursting with juice. The sweet little clams, garlic and parsley balanced it marvellously whilst letting the gentle taste of the fish shine too. I don't often order fish as a main course – too much of a red meat lover – but this is the kind of dish that persuades me I must do so more.

Wary of how much we'd been rushed into our mains, we decided not to even order desserts until after a short break on the outdoor terrace where we stood, drinks in hand, watching the light change as the sun sank, out of view off to the right.

sunset views from the terrace

Unfortunately, our ten minute break outside couldn't have come at a worse time. Although we'd mentioned to the waiter before popping out that we'd order on returning to the table in a few minutes – when we came back inside the three front of house staff (barman, waitress and waiter/ manager) were overwhelmed managing drinks orders for the two larger parties that had arrived, and serving dishes to the other tables. We waited patiently, but just when I thought it was surely our turn - the various long-winded drinks orders finally served, bread and nibbles served, other tables visited and looked after - instead the staff turned to taking food orders from the two large groups instead.

If I sound a little petulant, I am. I genuinely don't mind waiting longer during busy periods, when I can see well-trained and aware staff keeping mental track of who is waiting for what, and am confident that we'll be slotted in to their quickstep. I think what made me cross was that we'd been forgotten.

Some quite considerable time later, when we finally piped up and called the waitress over, we were able to put in our order for desserts – to our waitress' credit, once we were able to attract her to our table, she was happy to explain a couple of the desserts to us. It took a long, long, long time again for them to arrive and, although we asked for coffee to come at the same time, it was forgotten until we mentioned it after we'd finished our desserts.

lemon curd cream with raspberries

Pete's lemon curd cream with raspberries (£7.00) was a lesson in simplicity. The rich sweet lemon curd folded into whipped cream was balanced by the acerbic raspberries and coulis; chef had resisted the temptation of making the coulis too sweet. Could not have been better.

shipwrecked tart with clotted cream

My shipwrecked tart with clotted cream (£7.50) was, despite that burned crust, a hit. I really loved the flavour combination of sugar-coated walnuts, hazelnuts and chestnuts but found the balance of nuts to sticky binding syrup wasn't right and what should have been, I think, a firm but moist mass kept disintegrating into frustrating crumbs. Still - it tasted mighty fine.

Overall, we very much enjoyed our meal. Although we had some issues with the service (I'm curious if they were under-staffed or simply blind-sided by the two tables of six arriving in such close succession) we did find them friendly and willing, if rather inconsistent. The setting itself is magical (and rather romantic, I think). The food is, as I'd hoped, pretty good.

And you'll see, in a later post, although I didn't make the mental connection between Ramson and wild garlic, it must have clicked subconsciously - just before heading back to London, we foraged a generous armful of wild garlic flowers which we deep-fried in tempura batter for a light dinner that evening! I'll call that the Hix influence!

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This post was supported by Restaurant Vouchers who bring together those handy 2 for 1 and discount vouchers for Pizza Express, Ask, Burger King, GBK, Little Chef and many more.

This has no impact on the content of the review above; indeed Hix Oyster & Fish House is not one of the restaurants affiliated with the restaurant voucher scheme.

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Pop In to Popham

Like many others, we watched Big Chef takes on Little Chef, often in horrified fascination – most of that horror being reserved for Ian Pegler's excruciating screen minutes. Didn't he just talk the most astounding amount of bollocks? Didn't he?!

Pretty much all of what Pegler said and did annoyed me, not least the fact that he seemed so proud of himself for getting Heston onboard despite having failed, so it seemed, to have done even the barest minimum of research on his new consultant – Heston being so much more than snail porridge and liquid nitrogen, as the food at the Hinds Head so clearly shows. Unlike Mr Pegler, Heston could very clearly see that, in order to retain loyal customers and remain true to what the brand represents, whilst also attracting lots of new customers, the answer lay in offering greatly improved quality in a fairly traditional menu of British classics. Not a watered down Fat Duck. (Or, as Pete and I variously referred to it, Little Duck, Fat Chef or Dat Fuck). Thank goodness Heston ignored Pegler's constant clamouring for blue sky thinking and stayed firmly within the box.

Pete doing a little blue sky thinking

And one more thing, Mr Pegler, about your bloody blue sky thinking: whilst a sunny day with clear blue skies certainly lifts my spirits, I can think just as creatively and work just as effectively on a grey day as on a sunny blue-skied one, thank you very much.

Pulling in

So anyway, despite the press fanfare at the time, we never did visit the newly updated Popham branch until a couple of weeks ago. Google-mapping our route from home down to our cosy B&B in Broadwindsor, Dorset I zoomed in on the half way point and spotted Popham, which of course set off the ping ping of my memory! From there it was just a quick skip, hop and jump to checking the address of the Little Chef and deciding to stop there for lunch on the way.

Both Pete and I had strong childhood memories of Little Chef, Pete even more so than I, as his family always took their holidays in the UK and his dad never, ever took the motorway route anywhere. But visits during our adult years had always proved disappointing with cheap ingredients letting down simple dishes, not to mention the disgusting "scrambled" eggs, a truly vile creation.

In case we couldn't find our way from the (branded) car park into the Little Chef itself

Does this mean a member of staff could take a crowbar to my Honda and I'd have no recourse?

It was strange entering the familiar interior, still sporting those blue sky ceilings and vivid red table tops. Service was friendly and we were soon seated at a vast table between comfy padded banquettes. I ordered the Hereford Steak and Abbot Ale Pie (£7.75), described on the menu as an individual, handmade pie with a baked suet crust, served with mushy pea mint gravy. Pete went for the Cheeseburger (£7.99). The burger is described as a chargrilled quarter pounder hamburger made from 100% British organic beef, served in a toasted bun with relish, sliced tomato, lettuce, gherkins and served with fries. One can add bacon and/ or cheese to that. We also ordered a side of chunky fries (£2.95) and a couple of coca colas.

memorabilia

After ordering, I couldn't resist browsing the historic memorabilia on a nearby wall – photographs of Little Chef restaurants and staff, historic menus (one of which looked so familiar) and other little bits and pieces.

The wait wasn't too long for freshly cooked/ heated dishes

hereford steak and abbot ale pie

Whilst I didn't care for the mushy pea mint gravy (either in appearance or taste) the pie itself was pretty good. I was particularly impressed with the pastry which had a lovely texture, lightly crisp on the outside, dense and moist inside – just as a good suet pastry should be. The filling was tasty too though I'd have liked it to be more generous and with a higher ratio of meat to carrots. But pretty good, overall!

The chunky chips were good too – crispy exteriors and soft inside.

cheeseburger and fries

The burger was good too - the bun, salad, gherkins, and burger were all decent. The only criticism really is that either the pattie needed to be bigger or the rest of the burger smaller. The fries were really rather good.

Given that we thought the food pretty good, but didn't have space for dessert, we opted to stop again on the way back from our Dorset trip for a second handy half-way point lunch. On this occasion we ordered the Chilli Con Carne (£8.95), described as spiced minced beef with tomatoes and kidney beans, served with pilaf rice, soured cream and grated Cheddar cheese and the Scampi (£7.85), listed as breaded whole-tail scampi from sustainable sources in Scottish waters, served with fries, salad, tar tare sauce and a wedge of lemon.

chilli con carne

The chilli con carne was pretty good – a lot better than the cheap versions so beloved of pub chains. Instead of cheap meat and the acrid taste of raw spices, this one was nicely spiced and seemed to use decent meat.

scampi

The scampi was very nice too. I didn't love the tartare sauce but the scampi was moist within, crunchy without and the fries went down a treat.

jubilee pancake

This time we had space for the nostalgia-inducing Jubilee Pancake (£3.95) – the handmade pancake with black cherry compote and a choice of vanilla bean or soft whip ice cream sounded so much better than it's original namesake – the last time I had this just a few years ago I couldn't finish it, so awful was the cheap, chemical-tasting fruit filling and the tasteless pancake. The new version was lovely, with a soft, light pancake, delicious fruit compote and simple soft whip ice cream.

loo art

The loos still play those bizarre sound recordings (which are impossible to make out over the sound of hand dryers and flushes anyway, and just sound like some bloke has walked in to the ladies' loos). Many of the food-related messages and cartoons on the wall are fading.

bill and beans

Bills are delivered with a handful of individually wrapped Jelly Belly jelly beans, a nice touch.

I'm glad that Ian Pegler has left Little Chef (though feel pity for whoever now has to nod agreeably to his inane corporate speak) but sad that Little Chef hasn't rolled out the Heston menu to the rest of it's branches. That's said, The Little Chef website makes mention of "an emphasis on provenance, choice and quality ingredients, using suppliers introduced to us during the development of Heston’s concept". Whether this goes far enough to tempt the nation back into the chain as a whole remains to be seen.

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Urban Farming with Celia Brooks Brown

Books on growing your own fruit and vegetables seem to be ten a penny at the moment, as publishers leap onto the latest bandwagon, keen to milk the home farming phenomenon. Often dull and weighty tomes, they add little to the existing excellent literature already available.

Celia Brook Brown's New Urban Farmer makes a refreshing change, steering clear of the temptation to reinvent the wheel and offering instead a well-balanced mix of engaging, personal narrative about her own urban farming awakening, lots of easy-to-digest practical advice and a selection of recipes for the resulting tasty fresh produce too.

For me, it's a joy to read because it echoes what we have found (my husband and I) and much of how we have felt during our own urban farming journey.

We started growing vegetables in our back garden, gosh it must be over ten years ago now. Gradually, year on year, we'd grow more and more different kinds of vegetables and more and more volume until we finally decided to convert the whole of our back garden into what should rightly be called a kitchen garden, but I more commonly think of as a home allotment. A few years back we even invested in a beautiful big greenhouse and new shed; very exciting! And this year we've finally introduced some fruit with a new apple tree, some raspberry canes, wild strawberries and a rhubarb plant. Whilst we do have a few fruit and vegetable gardening bibles, which are invaluable reference, we've learned a great deal by trial and error plus lots of welcome advice from more experienced friends and family.

And both of us have strong memories of helping green-fingered parents. Pete's dad worked hard on his allotment and produced a good part of the (large) family's diet, roping the kids in to help with many of the gardening chores. My mum loves gardening and I have vivid recollections of the little plots she assigned to my sister and I, in which we grew whatever flowers and vegetables we wanted, arranged in our own haphazard designs. Her garden today, even in winter, is an oasis of greenery, enlivened by riotous colour and scent during the warmer months. And, to my envy (no question in my mind as to why the colour of envy is green!) she can grow coriander; something I just can't seem to keep alive!

The beauty of growing your own fruit and vegetables is that you can do as much or little as you wish. Whether it's growing a few tomato plants and herbs in a window box or in a few pots in the garden or giving over a small patch of an otherwise leisure-focused garden to tomatoes, beans, strawberries and lettuces or going the whole hog and getting an allotment (or converting the entire garden as we have done) - it's hugely satisfying and addictive to eat what you have sown, nurtured and brought to fruition.

And with her injection of personal experiences – she has clearly learned by trial and error, success and failure – Celia makes it clear that urban farming is not only possible but readily achievable for anyone who wants to give it a go. As she points out in her introduction, roughly half the population of the earth are city-dwellers. Urban farming not only provides us access to the freshest possible produce, it also gives us the chance to reconnect to nature and improve the quality of our lives.

Celia catching up at the allotment after a couple of months away

Keen to meet with Celia in person and talk more about her urban farming experiences, I met her at her allotment on a very, very, very hot and sunny day, where I filmed a short interview. As you'll see, I'm an appalling interviewer and an even less skilled cameraman (so used to shooting stills that I forgot not to turn the little point and shoot I used into portrait orientation) but I hope the videos will still be of interest. Apologies for the strange semi-black-and-white effect in the last video – I managed to switch into some odd mode and couldn't work out how to switch out of it!

So what about the book – what does it contain?

In the Introduction, Celia tells us how she came to have an allotment before going on to share vegetable plot basics from location to tools to composting to protection to hardening off and more. There are tips on growing in an allotment, a home garden and in containers. And then the book is presented in monthly chapters, running through what needs to be done when, and the many tips Celia has learned along the way.

Even as an experienced vegetable gardener, there were plenty of useful tips for me – from using the spring shoots of winter brassicas to growing only one variety of sweet corn (cross pollination of more than one leads to ill-formed kernels) to using old, tough leeks to make a leek stock to enjoying bolting rocket flowers in salads to keeping supermarket herbs alive longer by gently separating the numerous plants crammed into the tiny container… each page had me scribbling notes to myself.

And there were also many tips which had me shaking my head in agreement – we too use takeaway containers (plus foil catering trays rescued from party events and the plastic punnets in which we buy strawberries and mushrooms) as seed trays; we've had huge success sprinkling broken egg shells around plants to create a physical barrier against slugs and snails; we also like to plant marigolds and nasturtiums as companion plants and we also leave a little patch of wild flowering weeds, all of which attract pollinating insects.

Lastly, there are the recipes – Celia is an experienced food writer and cook and shares many of her favourite ways to use her allotment bounty. I'm looking forward to trying pea and feta egg cups, parmesan potato cakes with summer herbs, warm courgette salad with parmesan crackling and apple and thyme tart with boozy toffee, amongst many others!

Although it's June now, by the time I'm posting this, I would still recommend you pick up a copy of this if you'd like encouragement, inspiration and a final push to join the ranks of urban farmers. There are still fruit and vegetables you can grow this year if you're quick, and you can certainly start planning and preparing for next year already!

Many thanks to Quadrille for my review copy and to Celia Brooks Brown for welcoming me to her allotment (and for her gift of rocket seeds).

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New Urban Farmer by Celia Brook Brown is currently available from Amazon for just £8.24 (normal cover price £14.99).

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