The Lancashire Riviera

On Sunday we dropped small son off at a paint-balling birthday event between Carnforth and Silverdale, and used the two-and-a-half hours productively, walking to the coast and along past Jack Scout. A friend staying in Juan-les-Pins texted to say it was 22 degreess there, and lots of punters on the beach. I replied it was 20 degrees in the South Lakes and no punters. Amazing return of the Indian summer when we had been warned of deadly blizzards.

On our return I overcooked (i.e. to medium rather than rare) a piece of sirloin of Aberdeen Angus from Rowntree Farms. Foolishly I followed the divine Delia's method instead of my usual slavish adherence to HF-W as regards meat. Saw an edition of the latter's veg thing later. Again a table of cut-glass-accented and very photogenic gardeners/helpers, but can forgive him for the way he does in the end inspire. Never yet felt like cooking something Jamie Oliver fries off (his phrase not mine), and it generally seems to be fried. Likewise Delia, though she does always inform, and Rick Stein, again educational and never less than interesting, but not inspirational. Nigel Slater's presentation on TV so low-key as to induce sleep, pity as in spite of annoying writing style (see below) he often has good ideas and sound views.

Damson Ice Cream

There is little of the weekend's cheaty damson ice cream left, for which thank the brilliant recipe of Nigel Slater, simultaneously our most interesting and annoying cookery writer, at least of those to whom I offer house room. I lifted the recipe, if something so simple merits the term, from Tender II. Buy a tub of decent supermarket custard (the cheaty bit), pick twice its weight in damsons, wash them then simmer with sugar to taste for about 10 minutes, leave to cool (eventually in the fridge) then sieve and combine the puree with the custard and whirl it in the ice cream maker. Fantastic colour, sharp fresh taste, lovely.





The annoyance part comes from a) calling too many things favourites and comfort food; b) his often prissy writing style, (reflected in the font used in the book). As a pastiche: Take 500g damsons. Nice ones the size of a sparrow's egg. Their blush as pure as a novice nun's thoughts. And sugar. Introduce the damsons in a pan to a bustling heat.





So I will buy his next book for the excellent ideas. And grit my teeth while reading it. And make more damson ice cream. Lots. Aargh, it's catching.