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Polpo by Polpo

It took me almost a week to take down my Christmas decorations. What with last weekend being my partner’s 30th, I had to risk superstition and undress each Christmas tree, one evening at a time this week after work. Finally, on Thursday night, I put away the last strand of tinsel and wrapped the last of my vast bauble collection and started turning my mind to the summer.

It’s not the easiest of tasks when a glimpse outside of the window presents a vision of dreary grey England, leafless trees straining to hold onto their roots in a blustery winter wind, and people wrapped head to toe in their winter woolies. Yet while the eyes may face the disappointment of a continuing wintery outlook, the other senses remain open to the invitation of an early summer. And so, to my kitchen I have headed, ready to tempt my taste buds and my nose with the smells and flavours of a verdant green and azul blue summer. For in my opinion, there is nothing quite like bringing the food of the Mediterranean into your home to kick away those winter blues.

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At Christmas I received a beautifully presented cookbook (after much well-placed hinting), Polpo, a book of Venetian-based cuisine flaunting the flavours of that deeply charismatic little island and the delicate tastes of the Adriatic beyond. The book is a collection of recipes from the London based eatery of the same name, whose philosophy is simple: to capture the essence of the Venetian backstreets, where quaint little bacari serve a plethora of deceptively simple but delicious Italian treats.

polpo-restaurant-london-soho-cookbookI couldn’t wait to delve into this book, littered as it is with sumptuous views of Venice, and offering some 140 recipes inspired by the dazzling city. It is perhaps no coincidence that the first recipe I tried was the very thing that the restaurant was named after: octopus, or polpo. However, it wasn’t actually the book which engendered this desire to eat polpo. Rather, having spent the last two nights occupied in another of my winter-beating activities, looking for summer holidays, my search through holiday deals in the South of France and the Italian riviera brought to mind a delicious yet simple dish of polpo with potatoes which I devoured, with a glass of chilled prosecco, in San Vincenzo in Tuscany last summer. This was my inspiration, and to my great pleasure, Polpo had a recipe which was perfect in fulfilling my desire to recreate that hot July day in January.

San Vincenzo's version of the salad

San Vincenzo’s version of the salad

and the Prosecco

and the Prosecco

So, to make a warm octopus salad, you need (for 4 persons) a medium sized octopus. Frozen is as good as any, not least because this helps to tenderise the flesh. I got mine from the local fishmongers, although it was Spanish in origin, and weighed in at 1.5kg. Defrost the octopus (and if it’s not frozen, consider freezing it first to get it nice and tender) and place in a large pan of unsalted water with a couple of roughly chopped celery sticks, the stalks of a bunch of parsley, an onion chopped in half, and a fennel bulb also chopped in half. This should be simmered for around 40-60 minutes until a fork can easily pierce the flesh. Mine was closer to 40 mins. Watch out you don’t overcook it.

Meanwhile, peel and chop 3-4 waxy potatoes into bite sized pieces and simmer until cooked. Again make sure these aren’t over cooked. They need to hold their shape, not crumble.

Beautiful raw octopus

Beautiful raw octopus

The octopus cooking

The octopus cooking

When the octopus is done, chop it into bite sized pieces, removing the eyes, claw etc if you still have them on, and remove as much of the slimey under skin layer if you can (you can leave the nice pink skin around the tentacles – it’s the best bit). Rinse these pieces under clean warm water and place in a large bowl with your cooked potatoes, a finely chopped clove of garlic, a handful of chopped parsley, a teaspoon of dried chilli flakes, a good glug of good quality olive oil (mine comes direct from said town in Tuscany) and the juice of around half a lemon. Season well and serve.

Cooked

Cooked

And chopped

And chopped

The finished dish

The finished dish

The flavours of the Med (and Venice, I suppose) are just sublime, and guaranteed to brighten any cold winter’s day with the thoughts of the summer. Right, I’m off to book that summer holiday…

Duck & Waffle – a combination worth climbing 40 floors for

There are restaurants, and then there are Restaurants. You have your bog-standard local, great for a catch-up with friends, a quick snack when lunching alone, or a dinner when you really can’t be bothered to cook. But then there are the Restaurants – the crème de la crème of gastronomic performance, where a reservation is a date with the chef, a ticket at food theatre, or a seat in a location which dazzles like a cinematic display of visual glory. It was to one such gastronomically glorious location that I headed at the weekend, in celebration of my partner’s 30th birthday, which clearly called for something special. And where does one go to celebrate such a magnificent (if not daunting!) event, to mark the ascension to the ripe old years of proper, responsible adulthood? Why, I could think of no better than to ascend the dizzying heights of London’s newest skyscraper: The Heron, upon which, at the dazzling 40th floor, sits the Duck & Waffle restaurant, in a supper sleek, panorama-spectacular glass cube all of its own.

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This was a super-exciting event. I’d kept the reservation a secret, but knew nothing of the restaurant itself except that the views promised to be nothing short of spectacular. So ascending from Liverpool Street station, and catching my first glimpse of the heroically high tower which was to be the location of our dinner made for quite an eye-full. As we passed the foot of the huge glass tower, and saw within the main foyer a fish tank bigger than my entire flat, I knew that we were in for a treat. And soon, thereafter, did my partner, as I took a sharp turn into the building that was to be the host of his birthday treat, and we ascended, at super-sonic pace, all 40 floors up to the restaurant. The speed not only made our stomach’s lurch, but the visual spectacle as street turned to streets and district turned to entire glittering city struck us both pretty dumb with awe. Almost shaking as we reached the top, I managed to vocalise the name of our reservation, before we passed through a bar, where a plummeting orange glass spiral staircase overlooked (yes, that’s overlooked) the shorter Gherkin tower to stunning effect, and into the restaurant.

The interior

The interior

The interior

Most tables benefit from the great view

The restaurant is surrounded on three sides by an unbeatable panorama which extends so far over London that the horizon blurs with the sky and all you can see is a galaxy of twinkles. From our beautiful window-side table, we looked straight onto the Gherkin, and beyond Tower Bridge, under which the Thames snaked its way towards the towers of Canary Wharf from where the view grew misty. In fact by dessert the whole view had gone rather misty – I think we may have found ourselves in a cloud. Anyway, I digress. The interior is funky and modern, with a golden yellow ceiling which appears to be rippling, and an open kitchen which allows you to check out what the busy chefs are up to.

Our view with chef reflected

Our view with chef reflected

Our view with chef

and again

The great thing about the restaurant is that for the views, it’s very unpretentious. The menu is even affordable, and the whole outfit is quite casual and trendy. The food is served in a tapas style – the intention is to share dishes which range from snack-sized bites, sushi-style raw fish and a range of mediterranean breads, to cold cuts and speciality mains including the restaurant namesake, duck and waffle. The dishes then come as and when they are ready which, in our case, was sequenced pretty much in size order starting with the snacks, bread and raw fish and ending with the duck.

Our table!

Our table!

We went for 6 dishes spread from across the menu. We started with dates wrapped in bacon with a creamy mustard side sauce – the flavours were so good I could have eaten a whole basket full of these things. From the breads, we went for a garlic and rosemary foccacia. The smells immediately transported us to Italy’s mediterranean coast, and the flavours were deliciously pungent and well seasoned, although the bread itself was a bit doughy in the middle. Onto the raw fish – exquisite strips of tuna, served with a small cube of watermelon, a tiny basil leaf and drizzled with a balsamic glaze which made for a perfect balance of flavour. As ever, the aromatic basil won me over as it does in most food combinations.

Onto the slightly bigger choices, we had a sizzling baked golden beetroot dish which was accompanied by creamy goat’s curd and honeycomb – so good, although the delicious honeycomb did tend to cling onto my teeth with unnecessary enthusiasm. We also had a deliciously spanish octopus cooked with chorizo. However the best dish of all had to be the trademark duck and waffle. Oh my goodness, the very thought of that dish makes me salivate like the Niagara Falls. A Belgian-style waffle was topped with an unctuous leg of duck and a gooey fried egg, over which one poured (to taste) an ambrosial syrupy nectar which appeared to be maple syrup with mustard seeds giving a slightly fiery, textured edge. The dish was so delicious, and the syrup so exquisitely sinful that I actually ended up drinking the residual syrup straight from the jug (no one was looking!). I would walk the 40 floors to get to that dish if I had to!

The famous duck and waffle

The famous duck and waffle

We ended our evening with two selections from a great dessert choice. My partner had gooey chocolate brownies, again with honeycomb and peanut butter icecream. I had a spiced pear “cappuccino” which was a pear syrup and froth, spiced, with chunks of pear and gingerbread – very festive and just about appropriate as it was the 12th day of Christmas.

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And so ended our fantastic night. This restaurant is a must for those who love a good view. It is simply mind-blowing. The food is not overly expensive, although it can mount up if you have too many dishes (which is the temptation – the portions aren’t that large). The wines are expensive though. The cheapest bottle of red I could find was £40 so we opted for a couple of glasses instead. The main drawback for me was the fact that the open kitchen was very smoky. The aromas of all the cooking, grilling and frying were very cloying in the air which is not ideal for an enclosed glass space – like frying bacon inside a hot greenhouse. This left us smelling quite heavily of fried food when we left. But we weren’t overly bothered. That view will stay with us for much longer, and as for the lift journey down, we took the lift up and down about 3 times – it was like a fairground ride with the best ever view – priceless!

It was a long way up...

It was a long way up…

The staircase in the bar - check out the gherkin outside

The staircase in the bar – check out the gherkin outside

Details of the Duck & Waffle can be found here. Allegedly they’re open 24/7 so if you ever happen to be strolling through the city at 3am (which won’t be such a novelty for the city lawyers I know) that syrupy duck treat will lift your spirits in no time.

On the Twelfth day of Christmas, my Normy gave to me…

…twelve drummers drumming

It’s 6 January, the 12th day of Christmas, and the crowds are out in force in Spain. Huge parades fill the streets, floats covered with flowers and Norms dressed as kings. Sweets are being thrown from the floats, littering the air like edible confetti, and on the roadside, little Norm children are scrambling to have their fill. This is not just any day, in the Christian world it’s the Epiphany, and in Spain and across South America, it’s “El Dia de los Reyes – the 3 Kings Festival! However this year, in one Spanish town, it’s not the floats containing the 3 kings which are getting all of the attention, but one particular float, upon which sits closely bound a Norm-man and a Norm-woman, happily in love, surrounded by 12 drummers celebrating their love-filled reunion…

…it’s Normy and Normette!

On the Twelfth day of Christmas, my Normy gave to me, 12 drummers drumming (© Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, pen on paper)

On the Twelfth day of Christmas, my Normy gave to me, 12 drummers drumming (© Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, pen on paper)

Yes, Normette is back! How could she possibly have resisted? Just one thought of those 11 pipers piping with their little tartan kilts, and what could possibly lay beneath (underwear or, as tradition dictates, au naturel) had her bouncing back to the UK as fast as the Eurostar to London could carry her (and to be fair, it does go quite fast). Why did she ever leave the fair rolling green pastures of the English lands, the verdant landscapes, the tartan fabrics, tea at 5 and of course Downton Abbey? But most of all, she had missed someone irreplaceable in her life, who had travelled up and down the UK just in an attempt to lure her back to him – why Normy of course.

In fact once they were reunited, Normette realised that it wasn’t really the UK she had missed at all, but dear Normy, and having taken one look at the rainy weather, she booked them both on a trip to Sunny Spain. And once there, what should they find, but the 3 Kings Festival itself. What better way to give Normette one final gift on the 12th day of Christmas, thought Normy, than to jump up on a float and celebrate their love surrounded by 12 drummers and a crowd of cheering admirers (Normette did miss her Moulin Rouge celebrity after all).

And so it is upon this moment of celebration and jubilation that on the 12th day of Christmas, we leave our lovers to it, back together, adoring, and ready to face the New Year as one. Here’s to a great 2013!!!

© Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm, 2001-2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of the material, whether written work, photography or artwork, included within The Daily Norm without express and written permission from The Daily Norm’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

On the Eleventh day of Christmas, my Normy gave to me…

…eleven pipers piping

It’s been several days since Normy made the mistake of introducing Normette to the glamorous razzmatazz of the Moulin Rouge, and she has still not come home. Not even since receiving Normy’s tantalising glimpse of 10 Lords-a-leaping over the boundary fences of Downton Abbey. How could she have resisted those bucksome young Norms, with all their wealth and privilege?! But no, Normette continues to thrive in the nocturnal shadows of the relentless revolution of Paris’ most famous red windmill. In fact so skilled a cabaret star has Normette become, that she has gone from Can-Can chorus-girl to show starlet, and the other day she even appeared on the front of the Paris Match, and it’s rumoured she will be invited onto the Ellen DeGeneres show any day now.

So with all this in mind, Normy, who is keenly aware that the 12th day of Christmas is fast approaching, has taken drastic measures to try and lure Normette back to the UK. In fact he traipsed all the way up to Bonny Scotland, to Edinburgh Castle, notorious location of New Year’s Eve celebrations, and on the very same night managed to persuade 11 hardy Norm bag-pipers to pose for a picture which he will now send to Normette (there were originally 14 on hand to play, but since Normy only wanted 11 for Normette’s 11th present, he got 3 drunk on Scotch Whisky, which turned out to be a pretty easy task). How can Normette possibly resist that Scottish charm, those flighty little tartan kilts, and those amazing furry hats? And the great advantage of this being a mere photo of the pipers, is that Normette needn’t hear the terrible drone of the bagpipes which poor Normy had to endure for some hours…!

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my Normy gave to me, 11 pipers piping (© Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, pen on paper)

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my Normy gave to me, 11 pipers piping (© Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, pen on paper)

But will Normy be successful in luring Normette back home this time?

© Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm, 2001-2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of the material, whether written work, photography or artwork, included within The Daily Norm without express and written permission from The Daily Norm’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

2012: my year in photos

It’s incredible to think that today is the last day of 2012 and that one year ago, I wrote this post looking back on the photographic highlights of 2011. I received so many wonderful comments about my photos after that post, and amongst them, several readers declared that they looked forward to seeing my photographic highlights of 2012. It seemed like such a way off, but here we are, 12 months later. It seems like the year has shot past and yet, when I look back over the photos which have captured my year, I can see that I have been blessed with a year full of multiple adventures, travels, sights and sounds, and so many glorious photographic moments that it was almost impossible to choose between them.

Yet here is my attempt to collect together my year in photos. Inevitably, the greater majority of these shots were inspired by my travels, which saw me take in city trips to Amsterdam and Salamanca, Bologna and Lisbon, Madrid and Liverpool, as well as balmy seaside trips to Tuscany and Marbella. However, asides from the travels, London will forever go down in my mind as being the year which brought we Londoners two spectacular events which changed everything about our city, both in atmosphere and legacy – the London 2012 Olympic and Paralympic games, and the Diamond Jubilee of HRH Queen Elizabeth II. This really was a spectacular year for my country, when national pride rose to an all time high, and the previously gloomy streets of a recession-hit country became multicoloured when bedecked in the olympic rings and union jack flags aplenty.

So here are my photos, of travels, of games, of festivities, of seasons. But amongst my favourites are also the unplanned moments, captured on my iPhone camera, which is so handy when a scene of unexpected beauty is discovered, such as the sunset over Clapham Common, the stag beetle and the cicada, the silhouette at the National Theatre and the autumn hues in London’s St James’ Park.

But that’s surely enough talking. Let the photos do the rest. I give you my year in photos, until next year…

 

Happy New Year everyone!

All photos are the © of Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm, 2001-2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of the material, whether written work, photography or artwork, included within The Daily Norm without express and written permission from The Daily Norm’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

2012: the Norms review their year

It’s been one hell of a year for the Norms. One could almost call 2012 the Year of the Norm, except to do so would be to presuppose that no subsequent year would be equally as Normy, something which, the Norms anticipate, will certainly not be the case. 2012 has nevertheless been a year of great Normy prowess and adventure. Why 2012 was the year when the Norms headed to Italy, to Spain, to Portugal, to Holland and to France. They sailed down canals, they took part in Easter Parades, they cycled over Amsterdam’s bridges and boarded Lisbon’s famous trams. In Paris, the Norms explored the sculptures of the Musée Rodin, while back in London, they milled around in the National Gallery, became covered with Yayoi Kusama’s polka dots and ran from a fly attack in Tate’s Damien Hirst exhibition. Oh yes, those Norms are cultured little blobs, but they proved themselves to be great sports-norms too, partaking in London’s hugely successful Olympic and Paralympic games, as well as mustering the energy to stand in crowds waving the flag for Queen Elizabeth Norm’s Diamond Jubilee. So you see 2012 really was the year of the Norm, and although you may have seen them all before, here is a little review of some of the sketches which captured the Norm’s adventures throughout the year.

But that’s not all. 2012 was also the year when the Norms entered the history books, having themselves repainted in the image of some of the world’s most famous paintings. From Norms in the image of Manet’s Dejeuner sur l’herbe and, minus an ear (not that Norms have ears), in the guise of Van Gogh, to the Norm with a Pearl Earring, and the Norm with an Ermine, the Norms have recreated artistic greats such as Da Vinci, Frans Hals, Valezquez and Goya with their characteristic glowing blue complexion and their wide captivating eyes. What better time then, than at the end of the year of great Normular artistic endeavours, to take a look back at some of those paintings that made the year so artistically fruitful.

So that’s it – it was a year of fantastic Normic success, both in colour and black and white. Here’s to 2013, for a year of great creativity, activity, and a continuously abundant imagination with the power to carry both me, and the Norms to new and undiscovered heights. Happy New Year!

© Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm, 2001-2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of the material, whether written work, photography or artwork, included within The Daily Norm without express and written permission from The Daily Norm’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

On the Tenth day of Christmas, my Normy gave to me…

…ten lords a-leaping

So for those of you who missed the last instalment of Normy’s quest to give his lover, Normette, a gift for each of the 12 days of Christmas, well, you could say it has all backfired a little. Rather than to woo Normette into Normy’s one-armed embrace, his gift of 9 ladies dancing enticed a rather stressed-out Normette to join the Moulin Rouge’s dancing troop. As we speak, she is flashing her nether regions to the rich punters of the infamous nightclub, dancing provocatively with her ruffled skirt up and letting her hair down most unsuitably. One could say she is having the time of her life, but poor Normy, back in England, is in despair. Just how will he persuade Normette to come back to England?

It was when Normy was watching a review of 2012 on television that he had an idea – what with all those views of the Diamond Jubilee, and the UK’s victorious performance at the London 2012 olympics – why, what better way to persuade Normette back to England than to remind her of just what is so great about the country compared to France, which she has now made her home. He would visit the creme de la creme of the UK, taking photos of all of the best features of this wonderful nation, sending each in turn to Normette on the 10th, 11th and 12th days of Christmas respectively – he may even send more. Whatever it takes to get Normette back!

First up, Normy paid a visit to what is now widely considered to be the very paradigm of true England – none other than Downton Abbey. And just as Normy was approaching the great Abbey and the very aristocratic Norm family who live within, he came across a whole gang of posh Lords – ten in fact, who happened to be energetically engaged in their annual festive race around the Downton grounds. Basically, as part of this race, the Lords leap around the estate perimeters, jumping over gates and hedgerows, ha-has and rivers, riding upon their hobby horses (real horses are far too big for Norms who would surely lose their balance from fear and splat on the ground) in order to increase their chances of a speedy victory. Oh what fun! And how convenient, thought Normy, that there were ten handsome Lords – there could be no better image to photograph for Normette and send to her on the 10th day of Christmas. With a sight as iconically English as this, what better reason could there be for Normette to flee France and come home to England ? (And after all, Normy doubted that France has anything as classy as Downton Abbey on its TV screens).

On the 10th day of Christmas my Normy gave to me, 10 Lords a-leaping (2012 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, pen on paper)

On the 10th day of Christmas my Normy gave to me, 10 Lords a-leaping (2012 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, pen on paper)

But surely this in itself will not persuade Normette to give up her jocular life of dancing and debauchery. How will Normy lure Normette back in the 11th day of Christmas?

On the Ninth day of Christmas, my Normy gave to me…

… nine ladies dancing

Normette’s nerves are in shreds. After days of receiving disastrous presents from her lover Normy, she can no longer cope with the worst of them – those bloody French hens. Of all the snobby hens Normette has ever come across, those three are surely the worst! For example the hen with the beret refused point blank to eat the frogs legs Normette had imported in especially for them on account of the fact that they were frozen and not prepared by a chef of at least two michelin stars. Then there’s the cabaret hen – she’s such a little hussy that she’s been half way round the nearby farms flirting with all of the cockerals and showing off her fishnet stockings and best can-can moves. And as for the fashionista hen, well she refused to even sit on Normette’s sofa, let alone a nest, justifying her reticence by the fact the cushions were not “couture” enough and demanding that Normette buy some throws instead from Gautier’s most recent home collection before she would go anywhere near. No, that’s it, Normette has had enough. The hens have to go!

12 days - 2 french hens_2Now despite her frayed nerves, Normette, like most Norms, is fundamentally an animal-loving creature and agreed with Normy that the hens should, at least, be returned to Paris where they came. And at least this way Normette would get a glimpse of the city of love. So off they went, Normette, Normy, and the three hens in tow, on Eurostar direct to Paris Gare du Nord. But once they reached Paris, the problem then was where to take the hens. They had no idea where they were from, and the only clue they really had was the fact that the cabaret hen kept on clucking on about the Moulin Rouge. So to that same infamous night club they headed, in the risqué district of Pigalle with all of the sinful pleasures it entails.

When they were one metro stop away, Normy suddenly had another of his genius thoughts – wasn’t the 9th present he owed Normette supposed to be 9 ladies dancing?! Why, the Moulin Rouge was the home of perhaps some of the most famous dancers of the lot – the can-can dancers! Full of excitement, and dragging Normette (and the hens) up the steps of the Metro, Normy tried to rush Normette straight into the Moulin Rouge to see the dancers as a 9th day treat. But once the innocent and demure Normette caught sight of the nightclub, with its pictures of scantily-clad Norms and provocative dancers, she refused point-blank to go in! Undeterred, Normy rushed into the club, leaving Normette stood angrily on the pavement of the Rue Blanche (where she attracted quite a few admiring glances from nearby sex-shop punters I might add). Suddenly, out of the Moulin Rouge ran Normy, followed by a troup of 9 can-can dancers, who immediately started putting on a show for Normette! If he couldn’t get Normette inside, he’d darn well bring the inside out!

On the Ninth day of Christmas, my Normy gave to me, 9 dancers dancing (2012 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, pen on paper)

On the Ninth day of Christmas, my Normy gave to me, 9 dancers dancing (2012 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, pen on paper)

So there they were, 9 ladies of the night, dancing frivolously especially for Normette. Lifting their frilly dresses and showing off their provocatively placed garters, it couldn’t be denied that the dancers were enticing – even Normette couldn’t keep her eyes off them! In fact in those dancers, Normette began to gain a sense of solidarity, a promise of fun, of freedom, of frivolous joy day after day. And that is why, as the show ended and the dancers began to file back into the famous red-windmilled club, Normette found herself drawn in too, caught up in the excitement, the frills, the feathers, and so fast in fact that before he knew it Normy (and the hens) were left out in the cold, the doors of the Moulin Rouge slammed in his face, and Normette, perhaps, lost to him forever.

Can Normy attract Normette back, on the 10th day of Christmas??

© Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm, 2001-2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of the material, whether written work, photography or artwork, included within The Daily Norm without express and written permission from The Daily Norm’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The culinary bounties of a Christmas Day feast

As the saying goes, the show must go on, and despite news which rocked my family to its core, the most important thing, for me, was to keep the flame of Christmas burning, despite the grief all around. In that vain, I decorated, I cooked and I ate to my heart’s content, and here within are the fruits of my labour (and product of my hefty post-Christmas weight gain)…

A starter of Scallops with clementine, ham, almond and an oloroso dressing

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This starter was taken from a recipe by Richard Corrigan in the style section of The Sunday Times a few weeks back. It made for a refreshing, bright and beautifully balanced start to what can often be a heavy Christmas feast, and brought a burst of Spain into an otherwise traditionally dressed English dining room. (Serves 8)

I started by making a dressing for the salad. For this, to the juice of 2 clementines I added 2 tablespoons of caster sugar, 4 tablespoons of oloroso (or other dry) sherry, 2 tablespoons of sherry vinegar, 12 tablespoons of olive oil and a pinch of salt. Setting aside the dressing for now, I peeled the outer leaves from a 750g bag of brussel sprouts (leave the centres for a further sprout dish later) and blanched them in boiling salted water for around 30 seconds before plunging them into iced water to bring out the green and stop any cooking. I then assembled my salad – I broke up 8 clementines and placed these into bowls alongside the drained brussel sprout leaves, 16 slices of torn up parma ham and a scattering of salted almonds.

I then set about frying my scallops (3-4 per person) for around 2 minutes on each side (less if they’re smaller) and placed these atop my salad as the crowning glory. All was finished with my Spanish dressing and some seasoning.

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The main event – Guinea fowl with sweet potato and marshmallow gratin, sauteed brussel sprouts (with chestnuts and bacon), red cabbage and apple, and spinach and parmesan stuffing balls. 

The Guinea Fowl

I hadn’t eaten guinea fowl for years until I sampled it again at the wedding of my friend Celia and realised how delicious it is (I believe my propensity not to eat the bird was probably down to my fondness for guinea pigs when I was younger and the inevitable confusion which may have ensued). So, with my two guinea fowl in tow (these should feed 4 easily, 6 at a squeeze), I wrapped the birds in 16 slices of pancetta, enclosing a few sage leaves underneath. Placing the birds in a pan, I then doused the lot in a little olive oil, two ample blobs of butter, 200ml of white wine, seasoning and a few more sage leaves. The birds were then ready to go into the oven at 170 degrees centigrade (if it’s a fan oven, up to 190 if not).

My guinea fowl pre-cooking

My guinea fowl pre-cooking

After an hour, I turned both birds onto their breasts, turned the heat down to 150 (170 if not a fan oven) and cooked for a further hour. I should note that I did use foil for around an hour of the cooking to lock in the moisture and prevent the pancetta from burning. However the same effect can probably be gained from regular basting. Once the birds are done, make sure you rest them. I rested them in their pan (covered in foil) for a good 30 minutes which ensured the meat was moist, unctuous and literally fell apart in the mouth.

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On the Eighth day of Christmas, my Normy gave to me…

…eight maids a-milking

Normy and Normette haven’t had an easy ride as far as Christmas gifts have gone. Ever since trying to emulate the lyrics to the Twelve Days of Christmas in making daily gifts to Normette, Normy has gone from one disaster to the next, what with collie birds flapping all over the place, 5 golden rings which led Normette to accuse him of having an affair, and 6 geese who preferred to lie out on loungers in the Caribbean rather than lay eggs as the carol dictates.

However, for the 8th day, Normy was sure he was onto a good thing. It’s Boxing Day, so it’s unsurprising that Normette, ever the fastidious cook, has run out of milk. It was all of those coffees yesterday, not to mention the custard that all her guests poured liberally over their Christmas pud. However, for today,  Normette wants to make her favourite of all desserts – a Norm-shaped blancmange – a traditional affair at Christmas time for all Norms who like the novelty of eating something as white and bouncy as they are. Imagine then Normette’s disdain that in preparing for the dessert she realised she had run out of milk! And with all the shops around her closed too! But on hearing the news, Normy was suddenly excited – he realised that at last the opportunity had arisen for him to shine and prove that he could give Normette a worthwhile present – for what had he prepared for her 8th Christmas gift? Why, none other than 8 maids a-milking!

Full of excitement, Normy brought each of the 8 maids he had acquired for Normette into the kitchen. Once Normette had unwrapped each maid, she too became excited at Normy’s ingenuity. It was only when she then asked for the milk that Normy realised the error of his ways. He had managed to lay his hands on 8 maids, but he had completely forgotten about the cows! And where on earth would he find 8 cows at this time of the year?!

After many phone calls and several expressions of anger from Normette, Normy managed to find a single cow, and out they trekked, deep into a snowy field, while all 8 milk maids set about milking that poor single cow. But so shocked was the cow at being grappled by no fewer than 8 milk maids at one time that she could barely produce a milliletre of milk. Normette was far from impressed. I wouldn’t want to be in Normy’s household tonight…

On the eight day of Christmas my Normy gave to me 8 maids a-milking (2012 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown)

On the eight day of Christmas my Normy gave to me 8 maids a-milking (2012 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown)

Will Normy finally do better on the 9th day of Christmas?