Spectator Life

There’s no getting away from the fact that potatoes dauphinoises is a rich dish. It’s a celebration of richness, of creaminess, and of carbs. If you recoil from richness, or are the first person at the table to bring up calorie counts, potatoes dauphinoises is probably not the dish for you – and frankly, any attempts to lighten it, or slim it down are misguided. But if you can resist bronzed slabs of thin, tender, perfectly cooked potato, with a garlic-infused creamy sauce bubbling up around the edges, you’re made of sterner stuff than I am. Dauphinoises hails from the historical Dauphiné region in South-East France; the region dissolved in 1789 but its potato namesake has lived on.

Pity the poor panoramic restaurant. They might boast the best views of the capital, but the lack of outdoor space on the 42nd floor means they haven’t been able to take advantage of the easing of restrictions for the hospitality industry — until now. But from 17 May, they’ll be sashaying out of lockdown like the sequin-clad Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.  With gala dinners, champagne cocktails and complimentary magnums of Moet to tempt you back, here’s where to go. Searcy’s at The Gherkin London’s original sky-high dining room on levels 39 and 40 of The Gherkin (30 St Mary Axe, EC3) is welcoming guests back with a series of five-course gala dinners during their opening week.

I often think (and write) about how much faith baking requires. Every time you entrust a batter, a dough or a sponge to the oven, there’s little you can do to change its fate. Sure, you can make sure you don’t open the oven dough (don’t open the oven door!), you can double check your temperatures and timings, but really, it’s a waiting game. Hoping, trusting that the cake or the bread or the pastry will have risen, turned golden, or crisped. Cooking is different: in general, you can fiddle when you’re cooking. You can taste, and add, and adjust. Cooking isn’t a done deal until you serve the finished dish, and you can lift the lid, remove from the oven, season and stir to your heart’s content without any detrimental effect.

The Gin Gimlet was an unlikely hero of our socially distanced year. With their venues shuttered, bartenders were forced to get creative in order to ply their trade to a homebound audience. In a rush to create cocktails that could withstand bottling and postage, many turned to shelf-stable cordials in place of more temperamental citrus juices. After decades as a classic cocktail deep cut, the Gimlet was back on the menu. The original calls only for London Dry, Rose’s Lime Cordial, and a little ice to chill it down – but like many old favourites it affords ample room for experimentation. The Classic Scottish merchant Lauchlan Rose devised his namesake cordial in 1867 as a long-lived alternative to fresh citrus juice.

As I write this, I am wearing a thick jumper and sitting under a blanket, having just put the heating on. Earlier, rain fell on our skylight so heavily, the dog jumped up as if we were being invaded. I changed my schedule this morning so I could bake, just to take advantage of the oven’s warmth. It certainly doesn’t feel like sunny days are in our near future. I’ve read that the last year has felt warped time-wise, that it’s been hard to form memories that stick in the usual way, because we don’t have the events, the change in daily routine, the hooks onto which we peg our days, our weeks, our minds.

Almost anything can constitute a salad. Yes dictionaries variously describe salad as cold, consisting of raw vegetables, and featuring a dressing, and often these things are true – but not always. For there are warm salads, salads with grains or seafood, and salads where the pairing of ingredients is so precise and perfect – think pear and Roquefort – that not even a dressing is required. For me what is essential about a salad is freshness and piquancy; it must be vibrant and sprightly. If you need a rule of thumb though, to use when constructing your salads, think in terms of leaf, grain, protein, and dressing.

The rum baba sits somewhere between a cake and a pudding: made from an enriched, yeasted dough, full of butter, called savarin, which is like a very dry brioche. It isn’t quite as enriched as brioche and, after baking, it can be left to stale, and dry out further, which means that when it’s soaked in the sweet boozy syrup, it will drink up even more. Savarin dough can be used to make enormous bundt cakes, often decorated with fresh cream and fruit, but I have a soft spot for the individual baba. Once soaked, they are squidgy and extremely alcoholic – put it this way, I wouldn’t want to drive after eating one.

During a long year of lockdown, we have all been cooking at home like never before. It’s been a delight to be able to spend all evening stirring a pot of risotto with no social plans to feel guilty about missing. But these stretched-out times, be they languorous or languid, are coming to an end. The social diary is filling up, and I for one don’t plan on missing a long-awaited reunion with mates because I need to be around to check on the roasties. Sometimes we all need something quick and easy for dinner. That’s when I turn to instant noodles. For a self-avowed ‘foodie’, this is quite an admission. But for those days where speed is everything, and the alternative is therefore UberEats, there are far worse things.

There are few finer pleasures than sitting by a river or canal in summer – cold drink in hand. With the bitter winter weather on its way out and pub gardens given the green light to reopen from April 12, a balmy few months of al fresco drinking and dining are now upon us. Here are the seven best pub gardens around the UK to book now. The Sun Inn, Essex With bunting strung up and marquees and deck chairs spilling across the lawn, the garden at The Sun Inn has the charming feel of a village fete. The pub sits in Dedham, in the heart of Constable Country on the Essex Suffolk border. A village church spire peeps over the garden hedge. The outdoor bar is open for drinks Friday to Sunday from April 16, 12pm until 6pm.

Cinnamon rolls never used to grace my breakfast table. First of all, they struck me as the sweetness equivalent of drinking a triple espresso first thing: it might seem like a good idea at the time, but the crash that accompanies it is surely inevitable. And secondly, I was certain that to be the sort of person who can put cinnamon rolls on the table at breakfast time, you must be immensely practical, organised and competent – and tied to the kitchen. And that’s simply not me. Happily, neither of these things are true. While cinnamon rolls are sweet – if you don’t have at least a little bit of a sweet tooth, I’d probably stick to marmite on toast – they’re not the one-note sweetness I had assumed they were.

After long months of social distancing, the scramble is on to book those all-important first meals out. You can almost taste it, can’t you. Someone else’s cooking, served on someone else’s plates. It’s a universal truth that the best tips on where to eat come from within the industry. Here, some of Britain’s best chefs share the spots they’re heading to as soon as the lockdown lifts. James Cochran After stints at the Ledbury, the Harwood arms, various pop ups, James Cochran opened 12:51 in Islington. After the restaurant industry was brought to a standstill last year he pivoted to making his signature fried chicken available under the name Around the Cluck.

If you’ve heard a story about puttanesca it is likely that it translates as whore’s spaghetti – that it was born in the brothels of Naples’ Spanish quarters, a favourite of the prostitutes who worked there, for its quick, cheap and easy nature. But – ah, isn’t it always the way? – the truth is perhaps a little more prosaic. The word puttanesca is indeed derived from the Italian for prostitute (‘puttana’), but the same word is also used as a catch-all profanity, an Italian ‘crap’. In this vein, the dish would come to mean ‘any old crap’ pasta. This makes sense, because puttanesca is a true store-cupboard dish, made almost entirely from tins and jars and dried pasta (entirely if you forgo the parsley).

It’s finally time. After long months walking in the park and pounding coffees in the street you can have a small number of pals over as long as they stay in the garden. Will you have a few drinks when then come by? For the first time in months? Just a couple…? Yes, you absolutely will. Here are some of the best things to serve while you to remember how to have a conversation with more than two people. There are a few cocktails among the bottles and cans but they’re kept pretty straightforward to make sure you’ve got plenty of time for overdue chat. Gin/Whiskey Smash A laidback relation of the julep and the cobbler, the smash is one of the original cocktails, traceable to the mid-19th century.

Who will have a fishy on a little dishy/Who will have a fishy/When the boats come in? Far fewer of us, probably, after the new Netflix documentary, Seaspiracy, 90 minutes of devastating criticism of the fishing industry. Among the more eyecatching assertions is that the oceans will be empty of fish by 2048 and that there is no such thing as sustainable fish. The producer is a vegan called Kip Anderson who produced a similar critique of the meat industry, Cowspiracy. It doesn’t trip off the tongue, but the gist is the same: stop eating meat and fish. It's contention that the seas will be empty by 2048 has been seen off by the marine ecologist, Boris Worm, author of a 2006 report on which it is based, as an unwarranted projection into the future of trends he has identified.

The picnic has long been one of the favourite dining forms of the upper classes. Members of London’s 19th century Picnic Society were each required to contribute one dish, decided by ballot, and six bottles of wine. Though today’s picnics are a little less hedonistic, there will still be an overwhelming sense of celebration on Britain’s parks and commons this spring – as outdoor lunches will be one of the first meals friends and family from different households will be able to share with one another. In Scotland and Wales four people from two different households can now meet outside and from March 29 up to six people in England will be able to do the same.

I unironically love Easter eggs. I love the posh, fancy ones, the high street ones, the budget ones. From the sublime to the ridiculous, I have time and space in my heart for all of them. My husband is sick of hearing my grand theory that Easter egg chocolate is, in fact, the best of all chocolate, probably because the theory really only extends to the fact that Easter egg chocolate is thinner and snappier than that of chocolate bars. When it comes to trends this year, we’re seeing more Russian doll-style eggs (which rose in popularity last year), which as well as being visually impressive mean a variety of flavours of chocolate within one egg.

When it comes to cooking, I make no secret of the fact that I’m something of a traditionalist: I like old-fashioned steamed puddings, I like the classic and the heritage. I like blancmange and rice pudding and suet. I am unashamedly unfashionable. I’m not sure whether I chose the Vintage Chef recipe writing life, or whether the Vintage Chef recipe writing life chose me. I just don’t see the point in reinventing the wheel, or injecting unusual flavours and twists just for the sake of it. But, as I look back through recipes I’ve written, Easter has always been my exception: hot cross bun ice cream sandwiches, hot cross bun bread and butter pudding, cakes topped with mini eggs.

The sunny weather is back – and so too is dining out. From April 12, provided coronavirus cases continue to fall, restaurants and cafes will be allowed to serve food outdoors. But with outside space in London at a premium, restaurants with al fresco seating are being booked up fast. Here are our top picks of the eight best eateries to reserve now for your outdoor reunions. Darcy and May Green barges Why not start things off by dining on top of a floating piece of art? Designed by legendary British pop artist Sir Peter Blake, these barges offer a stylish venue for dipping your toe back into the London dining scene. The 50 metre upper deck serves as a terrace overlooking the Grand Union Canal.

The gin and tonic is a beautiful thing. Refreshing, anti-malarial, and fixable by even the least confident home bartenders. However, malaria rates are at an all-time low in the UK and over-reliance on old favourites is a sure-fire route to monotony and disenchantment. There’s a whole wide world of ways to knock back gin so why not give the tonic water a rest and try something different when 5pm rolls around? Gin Rickey American lobbyist ‘Colonel’ Joseph Rickey liked his rye whiskey and soda with a squeeze of lime for extra zip. He was an influential man in Washington DC and in the 1880s his signature drink became something of a phenomenon in the city’s bars. At the time, it wasn’t unusual to see variations made with brandy and Bourbon.

We are lucky to live in an age of domestic culinary convenience: whatever your heart desires, there’s an appliance, gizmo or specific spoon for it. Want to make cakes in the shape of a shoe? Not a problem. Need twenty different ways to crush garlic? Your needs can be met. Looking for a boiled egg, but in the shape of a square? Or a teddy bear, or a duck? Easy, you can make all three. So it seems remarkable that when it comes to effective gadgets or assistance for something as popular as pizza, we’re high and dry. It seems virtually impossible to get your hands on something that will help you replicate the thin, crisp crusted Italian-style pizza at home for anything other than seriously big money.

St Patrick’s Day is coming. Which means people all over the world will be repeating that thing they’ve heard about the pints being better in Dublin, claiming that they’ve read Portrait of the Artist, and championing Irish family connections through some obscure branch of the family tree. When it comes to refreshments on the day you could do a lot worse than a few cans of stout or cider. Bushmills Black Bush (£22; Waitrose) and ginger ale - 1:2 ratio, lots of ice, wedge of lime - is one of the all-time great highballs and would also do the job nicely. However, the old classics are by no means the only choices for Patrick’s day merriment. Whiplash Cream on Chrome DIPA, 8% (£5.