When visiting a capital city, it is hard, as a Londoner, to resist a little game of matching up the different areas with London equivalents. The area just off Rossio for example, we decided was Leicester Square (high concentration of tourists), and our riverside beers were enjoyed on the ‘South Bank’. Our trip out of town to Belém then, to the home of the Pastel de Nata (custard tart), was rather like heading out to the ‘burbs for a day trip. We also made a classic capital city transport error, by getting the train and changing twice (as TFL would no doubt advise you to do), when just a short bus ride would have sufficed; not all parallels were immediately apparent.

Our destination, Pastéis de Belém, was apparently the first place to sell the tarts outside of the spectacular, dream-like Jerónimos monastery (where they were invented) that stands just a few hundred yards away. The tarts are supposedly the best in Lisbon and only 3 or 4 people in the family-run business are privy to the recipe. From the outside, Pastéis de Belém looked like a regular-sized coffee shop but on the inside we discovered room after cavernous room, not a single one of them empty.

Before getting down to the important business of the tarts, we took refreshment in the form of Bock (of course), and some savoury nibbles. The Portugese seem to have a fondness for foods which have been deep fried and then left to go cold; I found some more palatable than others. These salt cod cakes were warm thankfully and very pleasant; simple and light, with soft flakes of fish which didn’t overpower and a grassy lift of parsley. There were a couple of sizeable yet forgettable quiches too and then it was on to the main event. Of course we wanted to know just what was so damn special about these tarts compared to others we’d tried and I’ll admit to being slightly sceptical. When they arrived however, even on first appearances, they did look different. See the Pastéis de Belém tarts in the top photo below and one of my earlier conquests underneath…

You can see that the pastry is much more delicate in the Belém version, and the custard covers the whole surface of the tart rather than being a smooth, sunken pool as above. The pastry was familiarly delicate and flaky, sending a flutter of shattering flakes all down your top with every bite, but there was less of it, meaning more room for that wobbly baked custard, which was slightly less sweet and pleasantly more eggy than the lesser versions. Cinnamon and powdered sugar are provided for sprinkling at the table but I prefer to eat mine as they come. Top tarts indeed.

If I were to find myself in Belém once again, then I would definitely pay a return visit, although I would probably just order Pastéis de Nata and plenty of them; an indecent, towering plateful in fact. I would suggest that any visitor to Lisbon do the same. A national culinary treasure and quite rightly so; go and eat the original and the best.

Café Pastéis de Belém
Rua de Belem, 84-92,
Belem
+351 21 363 7423
http://www.pasteisdebelem.pt/

Winter opening hours (1st Nov-30th April): 08.00-23.00 Mon-Sat, 08.00-22.00 Sun.
Summer opening hours (1st May-31st Oct): 08.00-24.00

N.B. The nearby monastery is closed on a Monday – we were most disappointed.

The weather here in London is acting all silly. There are glimpses of bright sunshine and warm breezes but don’t even think about making the switch to flip flops, it’ll be raining as soon as you are too far from home to change. The garden is loving the conditions, it’s kind of humid, warm but drizzly – I’ve even managed to sprout some lemongrass in a jam jar. All this rain had me craving something comforting. I wanted pizza, but not the guilt so I started looking around for a healthy but satisfying way to enjoy the rainbow chard that arrived in the box this week.

I’m a massive pastry lover but I like it best made with half butter and half lard – that’s just not good for anyone to eat on a regular basis. I wanted something with more of a nutritional punch and lot less guilt. I found this recipe on Evelin’s site, a healthy crust recipe she adapted from a book called ’100 pirukat’. Check out her idea for using bread slices as the tart base at the end of the post – it’s awesome. Anyway, I’ve changed the recipe again, by using wholemeal flour in place of white (I was really on a health trip), which worked really well by the way – it didn’t feel like it needed the white flour at all. The texture is quite soft and gooey, the oats sort of soften so a small piece is really satisfying although I ate half of the whole thing anyway.

Next time I will experiment with reducing the butter and increasing the amount of carrots, just to see if I can make it even more saintly. This could be a great discovery. If you want crispness though, you’re not going to get it here. It’s more of a soft, gooey, wholesome unctuousness, which is fine by me – and Chris too if the way he wolfed it down is anything to go by. The filling has no cream, just two beaten eggs and a tiny splash of milk to bind the chard and caramelised onions. A good shaving of parmesan for a bit of naughtiness and it’s ready to go.

Rainbow Chard and Parmesan Tart (with a Carrot and Oat Crust)

For the crust (adapted from Bounteous Bites).
Fills a 24cm flan tin.

100g oat flakes
100g wholemeal flour
100g grated carrots
100g butter at room temperature
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt

- Mix the carrots, oats and butter (I cut the mix together with a palette knife before going in with my hands).
- In a separate bowl, mix the flour, baking powder and salt. Add this to the carrot mix.
- Bring together to form a dough.
- Press into your tin and chill for half an hour or more.
- Bake for 15 minutes at 200C/400F/Gas6.
- Fill the tart with the filling (below) and bake for a further 20 minutes at 180C/350F/Gas4.

For the filling

Rainbow chard (I used about 10 smallish leaves), tough stems removed and sliced
2 onions, sliced
2 cloves garlic, crushed
2 large eggs, beaten
Parmesan cheese, to taste
Salt and pepper
Parsley, a sprig, leaves picked and finely chopped
50ml milk

- Add some oil to a pan and add the onions, cooking them slowly for around 10-15 minutes until the begin to caramelise. Add the garlic for 30 seconds or so, then the chard. Remove from the heat when the chard is wilted.
- In a bowl, combine the chard mix, eggs, milk, parsley, parmesan and seasoning. Pour into the tart crust and bake as above.

As you know, I celebrated my blogiversary last week! Amy has made a calendar where we can all record these dates and keep up with them.

As soon as the first asparagus appears I jump on it and consume as much as possible during the short 8 week season. It’s partly the delicate flavour which I find slightly addictive, partly the firm texture and the way it goes SO well with ingredients like ham, egg and cheese – but I’m sure my fascination owes a lot to novelty. I know that once the season is over, I can’t eat these delicious spears again until next year. Have you ever tried out of season, imported aspragus? It’s a load of rubbish. Asparagus from Peru? What?!

I’ve been lovingly gazing at the new quiche dish since I bought it, patiently waiting for the asparagus to appear. I bought the dish a few weeks ago in a charity shop, for a few pounds. Bargain. I buy a lot of my dishes in charity shops actually – you have to be in the mood though, it’s quite a skill rummaging through all the stuff you (really) don’t want just to find that diamond in the rough. I have the whole process down to a fine art now. It’s akin to the Londoner travelling mentality, which, if you are not familiar, involves every man and woman for themselves. Well, we’re not all like that of course, but there is an element of it in every Londoner – you know it’s true! It’s just that some of us can still manage to turn the corners of our mouths upwards into a SMILE and others have fogotten the art. Some of us can also manage to be polite and considerate, but now I’m sounding preachy so I’m going to stop.

So, quiche. I used pancetta in this one, together with some melting Gruyere, sautéed shallots and vibrant radish and pea shoots. Everything is held together with an unctuous dairy mix and finished with a fine grating of fabulous pecorino, a gift from a friend recently back from Italy. This pecorino is strong and studded with peppercorns.
I wanted something to cut through the richness of the quiche and thought this might be a good time to make my entry for Pixie and Rosie’s new event, ‘Putting Up‘. My entry is basically a variation on a previous pickle recipe that I loved so much I couldn’t wait to make again. I’ve just adapted it to the season. So, here we have a courgette, radish and kohlrabi pickle. It’s slightly mustardy and sweet-sour with cider vinegar and a touch of sugar. Its like a variation on Italian pickled veggies. It gave me an excuse to break out the Kilner jars again after last years chutney and pickled onions. I also used a good pinch of the ‘long peppers’ I bought at The Real Food Festival, crushed in the pestle and mortar but you can easily leave them out.

They have a sour taste and are quite different to a regular black peppercorn, fragrant and strong. I’ve mentioned before that they are catkins, isn’t that cool? The pickle will keep for months in the fridge – at least I think it will but I don’t anticipate it lasting that long.

Courgette, Radish and Kohlrabi Pickle

600ml cider vinegar
100g sugar
1 tablespoon wholegrain mustard
1.5 teaspoons black mustard seeds
1.5 tablespoons salt

20 red radishes
3 medium courgettes
2 small kohlrabi
1 very small onion
1 small sprig of dill, finely chopped

2 regular kilner-type jars or alternatives, sterilised (to sterilise your jars, wash them in hot soapy water and then rinse under very hot water. Put into a preheated oven (140C/275F/Gas 1 – minus any rubber seals – for 10 minutes).

- Cut all the vegetables into strips by hand, with a julienne peeler or using a grater.
- Put the veg in a large bowl, add the salt and cover with cold water. Stir to dissolve the salt and leave for around an hour or so. Drain the veg and pat them dry.
- Put the dill, vinegar, sugar, mustard and mustard seed into a saucepan and gently heat to a simmer. Let simmer for a few minutes and then cool until warm.
- Pour the liquid over the vegetables then decant everything into jars. Refrigerate.

Spring Quiche

Short crust pastry (I used ready-rolled, shocking! And I can’t remember how much I used, it was enough to line a 10″ quiche dish – sorry)
150g pancetta, cubed
13 asparagus spears, trimmed (hold at each end, bend gently until they snap, discard the woody end)
2 largeish shallots, finely sliced
1 clove garlic, crushed
A small handful of radish shoots and the same of pea shoots. You could substitute any leafy shoots here, or peas.
A small handful of chives, chopped
150ml milk
150ml double cream
3 large eggs
100g Gruyere cheese, grated
A grating of parmesan (optional)

A 10″ quiche or flan dish

Preheat oven to 180C/350F/Gas 4

- Roll out the pastry to cover the dish and carefully line it, patching up any holes, even the smallest, really well.
- Line the pastry with baking paper or foil and fill with baking beans, uncooked pulses or uncooked rice.
- Cook, middle shelf for 15 minutes. Remove, take out the paper and baking beans and prick all over the bottom with a fork. Cook 10 minutes more and allow to cool while you make the filling. turn the oven up to 190C/375F/Gas 5.
- Fry the shallots with the pancetta in a dry pan for a few minutes. Add the garlic for 30 seconds or so to soften, be careful not to burn.
- Mix the milk, cream, eggs and chives together with some black pepper (no salt, the pancetta is salty).
- Add the pancetta and shallot mixture to the pastry case and spread evenly. Sprinkle the shoots on top and then the cheese. Pour over the egg mix and arrange the asparagus on top, pushing down slightly to nestle them in. Grate some parmesan over if using.
- Cook, middle shelf for 30-35 minutes until golden brown and just set in the centre.

Dear Pie, we miss you already…until next time….. I know I said I was slipping into light cooking mode but this just had to be done. Originally conceived last year as a result of leftovers, we’ve been reminiscing about it ever since. We wanted to make it with the leftover chicken from this but it was too damn good and we ate it all. In the end I roasted another just for the occasion.

The success of this pie is largely down to the fact that it is made from yesterday’s dinner; butter roasted chicken with it’s herby, anvhovy flavourings, some fennel gratin made with manchego cheese, some shredded leeks sautéed with bacon, all held together with a dreamy bechamel. This is such a treat because it needs to be made this way, there’s no good putting unroasted chicken or un-gratinated fennel in there – it needs that once-a-year decadent quality.

Ok so the pastry isn’t the greatest ever and a little too thick but the filling, the filling! It’s rich, don’t get me wrong – diet food it ain’t, but it’s gooood and when cold, it’s even better. When you have all the elements of leeks, bacon, chicken, fennel and bechamel, it’s just a case of mixing it all together and adding a good dollop of wholegrain mustard.

On realising that I am without a decent pie dish, I made this in a spring form cake tin which worked but lacked that dive in-scoopage factor. However, it does allow you to trim the perfect slice ready to induce stares of jealousy come office lunch break the next day.

‘I can’t understand why I’m not losing weight?!’ I splutter through a mouth of buttery, meaty deliciousness, flecks of pastry all over my chin.

Our Best Chicken Pie Ever

You will need a generous springform cake tin, well buttered, a dollop of wholegrain mustard and 2 beaten egg yolks in addition to the ingredients below.

For the chicken see recipe here

For the fennel gratin

1 medium fennel bulb
3 small onions
1-2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2/3 bechamel sauce (2/3 of the quantity below)
Manchego cheese
A little parmesan (optional)
Salt and pepper

- Finely slice the fennel and onions and mix together with the garlic.
- Add a layer to a small gratin or roasting dish followed by some grated Manchego and a little bechamel. Season.
- Add the remaining fennel and onion, followed by the rest of the bechamel and a good grating of Manchego. Add a little parmesan and more seasoning if you like.
- Cook under a hot grill until golden and bubbling.

For the leeks with bacon

2 small leeks, finely sliced
5 rashers of streaky bacon. chopped

- Fry the bacon until beginning to crisp.
- Add the leeks and a small knob of butter and saute gently until softened.

For the bechamel

425ml milk
8 black pepper corns
1 bay leaf
1/2 small onion or a shallot
40g butter
20g plain flour
Salt and pepper
A pinch of mace or nutmeg

- Put the milk, bay leaf, mace or nutmeg, peppercorns and onion into a pan and bring slowly up to simmering point.
- Remove from the heat and strain the milk into a jug.
- Clean any milk residue from the pan and melt the butter gently, add the flour and stir to a paste.
- Add a little milk at a time, stirring to make sure all is incorporated.
- Start adding larger quantities, as if you are making mayonnaise, stirring with a whisk.
- When the lumps are gone, turn down really low and simmer for a few minutes until thickened.
- Decant into a bowl, cover and set aside.

For the shortcrust pastry

I followed Delia’s recipe – here. I doubled the quantity but it was a little too much as you can see from the thickness of the crust!

To assemble the pie

Preheat your oven to 200C/400F/Gas 6

- Get your filling ready by mixing some chicken pieces, leeks and bacon, the gratin and the remaining bechamel (you used 2/3 in the gratin) in a large bowl. Add a good dollop of wholegrain mustard and mix together.
- Cut the pastry dough in half and roll one half out, putting the other back in the fridge.
- Use it to line the pie dish, letting it overhang the edges slightly.
- Add the filling, then roll out the remaining pastry and add the lid, folding the edges in to make a crust.
- Put a cross in the top of the pie and brush with the beaten egg yolks.
- Bake until the pie is golden brown.

I couldn’t let British Food Fortnight pass by without making something ever so British in its honour. I’ve had this recipe flying around in my head for some time and it seemed perfect for the job. What could be more fitting than tangy, creamy Stilton; only made in the three counties of Nottinghamshire, Leicestershire and Derbyshire from locally produced milk, with a couple of the conference pears that are in season right now, all combined in a creamy, thyme scented sauce. I encased everything in this foolproof pastry, which was so unbelievably simple that I was intrigued as to whether it would work. Well, it did – although the pastry was rather crumbly when still warm. It firms up beautifully when cool however. I guess it just depends on how you like your pastry really; Chris preferred it crumbly and warm, I liked it cool. I think you also get more nuttiness from it this way and the pears are much more of a prominent flavour. Still, it didn’t matter really because there was plenty to linger over and talk about.

The next day I also made a beetroot chutney to eat with the tart and that really raised the game – they were delicious together, the sharp, spicy chutney was a perfect foil for the richness of the tart. I haven’t quite perfected the recipe yet though, so I’ll post it at a later date. I’m getting beets every week in the veg box at the moment so there’s plenty of time to practice.

I must say, I was very proud of the tart in the end, so comforting and autumnal, it warmed us both inside. It made me think of leaves turning, ruddy cheeks, country walks and farmhouse kitchens. Its sort of like a hug, but in food form, the same kind of feeling you get from a stew, freshly baked bread or a hearty soup. It balloons up in the oven almost like a soufflé and then gradually sinks back down leaving ridges in the golden cheese on top.

I’m warning you now, the wait between removing it from the oven and it being cool enough to unleash from the tin and eat is excruciating -10-15 minutes passed by like an hour but you do have the pleasure of watching it change as it cools and of course fellow bloggers, this is your time for photographs.

If when I make the tart again, I will add a dash of port when I soften the shallots, just to let them absorb that rich boozy flavour which will complement everything in the tart so well and just give it that extra base flavour.

Stilton and Pear Tart with Walnut Pastry

You will need a 23cm/9inch loose bottomed tart tin.

8 oz stilton cheese, crumbled
2 conference pears, skins removed and sliced (1-2 cm thickness)
284ml single cream
2 large eggs
4 shallots, finely chopped
Olive oil
1 teaspoon thyme leaves
Salt and pepper

For the pastry

75g walnuts
150g plain flour
120g butter, chilled and diced
1 teaspoon icing sugar
Salt and pepper

Making the pastry

-Put all the ingredients for the pastry into a food processor and blend until it resembles fine crumbs.
-Tip into the flan dish and press down with the back of a metal spoon until it covers the base and sides of the tin.
-Chill in the fridge for around an hour or so. Remember to cover the tart base with cling film, as you don’t want it to absorb the flavours from the fridge.

-Preheat the oven to gas 4

-Bake the tart for 20-25 minutes until golden brown. If the pastry begins to slip down the sides of the tart tin when cooking, the original recipe advises that you push it back up with a metal spoon. This didn’t happen when I made it however.
-Remove and allow to cool slightly. Turn the heat up to gas 5.

Making the filling

-Soften the shallots in 1 tbsp olive oil until translucent then spread them over the base of the tart.
-Arrange the sliced pears on top of this in a circular pattern.
-Whisk the cream and eggs together, and then mix in the thyme, cheese and lots of salt and pepper.
-Carefully pour the cheese mixture into the tart base (I found I had a little bit left that wouldn’t fit in) and then bake at gas 5 for 30-40 minutes until just set. If you insert a skewer into the centre of the tart, it should come out clean if cooked.-Leave for 10-15 minutes before attempting to remove from the tin. No really, you must.