It’s not going to be easy, so Jay enlists the help of Michel Roux Jr
A Sunday afternoon in lockdown and I am standing at the stove watching molten butter burn, because a nice lady in Manchester told me I must and, right now, I’m extremely suggestible. I’ve already had a traumatic interaction with some pastry that was so short it only held together out of good manners. Now here I am, burning butter. I need help. No, what I really need is a restaurant kitchen full of skilled cooks to do this for me, but that’s not exactly available right now.
Do I need tell you that I miss restaurants? I miss their noise and promise and menus and dishwashers. That got me thinking. I can’t bring the restaurant into my home, but perhaps I could bring the food. Wouldn’t that be great? Pick a few of my favourite dishes and scatter them through my week like suddenly-blooming nasturtium seeds. It would be my food fantasies made flesh, and many other food groups besides.
Michel Roux Jr tells me soufflé suissesse was the Queen Mother’s favourite dish. No pressure…
I sent a photo of my treacle tart triumph to its inventor. She replied: “Bloody hell. I’m slightly annoyed.”
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