The Sacred Art of Eating

Valentines would generally seem to be a celebration of a love of food, rather than anything else, in my flat. What with my recent return from an excellent skiing hol in La Savoie with a whole Reblochon it seemed fitting that we had a Tartiflette. Properly warming for a nasty February night.

It took me a while to find a recipe I liked- most seemed to include crème fraîche or cream which seemed all wrong- and in the end my dad came up trumps. We had a nice little bottle of (not French) rosé Cava- in lieu of pétillante de Savoie, which, let’s face, I wasn’t going to be able to find in Edinburgh- and a walnutty french salad.

It was, though I say it my self, smashing. Fitted beautifully in my bigger Phil Revell dish. I should have cut up the top half cheese, as it wasn’t a particularly young cheese and so the top rind was a bit tough. Otherwise though, no faults.

Dougal was in charge of pudding and he did not let the side down. He turned to Nigella, but to an earlier book, Feast (which I bought him for our anniversary three years ago). He made the Sticky Chocolate Gingerbread, and although we discovered as the shops were closing that we did not have enough icing sugar to do the full thick and unctuous layer called for, I’d say it was pretty perfect. We’re still eating it (he made a roasting tray-full!) and it is getting stickier by the day.

Lovely!

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