Or mushroom strudel, if you prefer.
You will need - apart from the usual vast quantities of wine to help you get through the agony of preparation - some of that home-cured bacon that's lurking in the cellar, some phyllo pastry (which, unless you are a complete maniac, you will buy rather than trying to make the stuff yourself), and some mushrooms. About a kilo should do.
There are no particular rules as to what: when I made this for Sophie about a month ago I took what I could get at the market. Shitake, some pleurottes, some bleu du bois (don't ask me, I'm not a mycologist), bulked out with some good old champignons de Paris, aka white button mushrooms.
First up, fry the bacon. Cut it into thin(nish) strips (which you will crush into small crumbly bits later on) and stick them in a nice hot frying pan. When it's smelling deliciously bacony but before it all goes black and iredeemably burnt, fish the slices out and put them on paper towels to drain, leaving a maximum of the fat (and there should be plenty) in the pan.
Now slice the mushrooms and fling them in the fat to cook. I do this in a couple of batches, saving the button mushrooms for last - they will render up enormous quantities of water, which you'll need to boil off. Whatever, while they're cooking add what takes your fancy: minimum garlic or échalotte, some chives, parsley ...
When all the mushrooms are cooked (and relatively dry), put them in a bowl together and stir in the crispy bacon bits and a tablespoon or four of dried breadcrumbs. And maybe some parmesan, if you have some to hand. This is important because
You will need - apart from the usual vast quantities of wine to help you get through the agony of preparation - some of that home-cured bacon that's lurking in the cellar, some phyllo pastry (which, unless you are a complete maniac, you will buy rather than trying to make the stuff yourself), and some mushrooms. About a kilo should do.
There are no particular rules as to what: when I made this for Sophie about a month ago I took what I could get at the market. Shitake, some pleurottes, some bleu du bois (don't ask me, I'm not a mycologist), bulked out with some good old champignons de Paris, aka white button mushrooms.
First up, fry the bacon. Cut it into thin(nish) strips (which you will crush into small crumbly bits later on) and stick them in a nice hot frying pan. When it's smelling deliciously bacony but before it all goes black and iredeemably burnt, fish the slices out and put them on paper towels to drain, leaving a maximum of the fat (and there should be plenty) in the pan.
Now slice the mushrooms and fling them in the fat to cook. I do this in a couple of batches, saving the button mushrooms for last - they will render up enormous quantities of water, which you'll need to boil off. Whatever, while they're cooking add what takes your fancy: minimum garlic or échalotte, some chives, parsley ...
When all the mushrooms are cooked (and relatively dry), put them in a bowl together and stir in the crispy bacon bits and a tablespoon or four of dried breadcrumbs. And maybe some parmesan, if you have some to hand. This is important because
- you haven't spent your time frying the bacon just to chuck it out
- the breadcrumbs will soak up any juice that the mushrooms release during cooking
- the parmesan tastes good
And now, time to drink. Remembering that once this is in the oven, you'll only have ten minutes or so before it's ready to go on the table.
Once that's all done, take a sheet of phyllo and brush it with melted butter. I would also sprinkle it with parmesan or grated cheese, maybe some paprika or fines herbes, and a bit of sea salt. But that's not mandatory, so feel free to ignore me for once. Now stick another sheet of phyllo on top and repeat the procedure: do this twice again so that you have four layered sheets of pastry.
At this point you cannot drink, because phyllo dries out really quickly and it's a right bitch to roll when it's dry. So forget about that, and spread the mushrooms out over the pastry and roll it up along the long side: do not forget to fold over the edges on the short sides so that it's neat and you don't have mushrooms falling out.
You should now have a nice mushroom log: put this onto your nicest oval Apilco porcelain serving dish, brush with more melted butter and sprinkle with a bit more cheese, then stick into a hot oven for about 10 minutes, by which time the mushrooms will have finished cooking and the pastry should have gone all crispy and buttery-delicious. On the other hand, while this is happening you could have a glass or two.
Quite frankly, I can think of nowt better to go with this than a good salad and some bread. As usual. Unless, of course, your cheesemonger (yes, that is the term, I didn't make it up) happens to have batusson available - this being very fresh goat cheese mixed up with chopped chives, garlic and godnose what else. Whatever, a spoonful of that on a slice of strudel is absolutely divine.
"Blessed are the cheesemongers, for they shall inherit the Earth" ("Life of Brian", somewhere around the middle.)
You could, on the other hand, plan a dessert. Could I perhaps interest you in a Bourguignon apple-thingy (not a cake really, nor a pie, but nice ...)
This one comes from Cuisine de la Rose, by Mireille Johnstone (of the wine family, I assume): can't remember how I came by the book but this recipe fairly rapidly became a staple. Mostly because it's idiot-proof.
Using your trusty old mixer, beat three eggs and a cup of sugar until thick and white. Dial the speed down a notch or two, and beat in a cup of flour and 20cl of thick cream. (You might want to do this by batches - a bit of flour, a bit of cream - to avoid meltdown for the mixer.)
Then (still with the mixer) beat in about 9 tbsp of softened butter - doesn't matter if it leaves lumps, 'cos it will and we like it that way anyway - and some grated orange or lemon zest OR orange-flower water, if you prefer and you happen to have a bottle floating around. Which I do.
You'll end up with a nice thick well-aerated batter, to which you add a fistfull of raisins and three or four Granny Smiths (or other tart apple) peeled and chopped. Pour the lot into a buttered and heavily sugared (you do like caramel, I assume) loaf dish large enough to hold the whole mess, then stick it in the oven for about 40 minutes (or, if you prefer, until browned on top and set).
The usual accompaniment to this would be lashings of thick cream, but I quite like an orange sabayon (don't be afraid, it's just a custard, and the name comes from the Italian zabaglione if you're interested: one of Catherine de Medici's imports) which you make by sticking a couple of egg yolks in a small saucepan together with a quarter-cup of sugar, ditto orange juice, and a good dose of orange liqueur. I like the Cinzano Arancio myself, but this may be hard to come by so feel free to stick in a good glug of Grand Marnier.
Whatever, stick the pan on a low heat and whisk the hell out of it until it starts to thicken. (It will froth madly as you do this. This may or may not be a good thing, I've never worried about it.) When it starts to coat the wires of the whisk, it's about time to turn the heat off and let it cool down, stirring a bit from time to time to make it feel wanted (and to avoid a skin forming). If it doesn't thicken enough, I have myself been known to beat up a teaspoon of cornflour with some orange liqueur and whisk that in while it's still on the heat - usually works, and I've not yet been found out.
Serve warm with the apple-thingy, and just to cover your bets, serve the cream as well.
Once that's all done, take a sheet of phyllo and brush it with melted butter. I would also sprinkle it with parmesan or grated cheese, maybe some paprika or fines herbes, and a bit of sea salt. But that's not mandatory, so feel free to ignore me for once. Now stick another sheet of phyllo on top and repeat the procedure: do this twice again so that you have four layered sheets of pastry.
At this point you cannot drink, because phyllo dries out really quickly and it's a right bitch to roll when it's dry. So forget about that, and spread the mushrooms out over the pastry and roll it up along the long side: do not forget to fold over the edges on the short sides so that it's neat and you don't have mushrooms falling out.
You should now have a nice mushroom log: put this onto your nicest oval Apilco porcelain serving dish, brush with more melted butter and sprinkle with a bit more cheese, then stick into a hot oven for about 10 minutes, by which time the mushrooms will have finished cooking and the pastry should have gone all crispy and buttery-delicious. On the other hand, while this is happening you could have a glass or two.
Quite frankly, I can think of nowt better to go with this than a good salad and some bread. As usual. Unless, of course, your cheesemonger (yes, that is the term, I didn't make it up) happens to have batusson available - this being very fresh goat cheese mixed up with chopped chives, garlic and godnose what else. Whatever, a spoonful of that on a slice of strudel is absolutely divine.
"Blessed are the cheesemongers, for they shall inherit the Earth" ("Life of Brian", somewhere around the middle.)
You could, on the other hand, plan a dessert. Could I perhaps interest you in a Bourguignon apple-thingy (not a cake really, nor a pie, but nice ...)
This one comes from Cuisine de la Rose, by Mireille Johnstone (of the wine family, I assume): can't remember how I came by the book but this recipe fairly rapidly became a staple. Mostly because it's idiot-proof.
Using your trusty old mixer, beat three eggs and a cup of sugar until thick and white. Dial the speed down a notch or two, and beat in a cup of flour and 20cl of thick cream. (You might want to do this by batches - a bit of flour, a bit of cream - to avoid meltdown for the mixer.)
Then (still with the mixer) beat in about 9 tbsp of softened butter - doesn't matter if it leaves lumps, 'cos it will and we like it that way anyway - and some grated orange or lemon zest OR orange-flower water, if you prefer and you happen to have a bottle floating around. Which I do.
You'll end up with a nice thick well-aerated batter, to which you add a fistfull of raisins and three or four Granny Smiths (or other tart apple) peeled and chopped. Pour the lot into a buttered and heavily sugared (you do like caramel, I assume) loaf dish large enough to hold the whole mess, then stick it in the oven for about 40 minutes (or, if you prefer, until browned on top and set).
The usual accompaniment to this would be lashings of thick cream, but I quite like an orange sabayon (don't be afraid, it's just a custard, and the name comes from the Italian zabaglione if you're interested: one of Catherine de Medici's imports) which you make by sticking a couple of egg yolks in a small saucepan together with a quarter-cup of sugar, ditto orange juice, and a good dose of orange liqueur. I like the Cinzano Arancio myself, but this may be hard to come by so feel free to stick in a good glug of Grand Marnier.
Whatever, stick the pan on a low heat and whisk the hell out of it until it starts to thicken. (It will froth madly as you do this. This may or may not be a good thing, I've never worried about it.) When it starts to coat the wires of the whisk, it's about time to turn the heat off and let it cool down, stirring a bit from time to time to make it feel wanted (and to avoid a skin forming). If it doesn't thicken enough, I have myself been known to beat up a teaspoon of cornflour with some orange liqueur and whisk that in while it's still on the heat - usually works, and I've not yet been found out.
Serve warm with the apple-thingy, and just to cover your bets, serve the cream as well.
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