Although I remember the classic green and gold tin of Tate & Lyle’s Golden
Syrup on the kitchen shelf at home, I don’t know what it was used for,
because we never had treacle tart. Ice cream is a different matter. It’s an
indelible part of my memories of childhood.
Ice cream brings to mind weekly trips with my sister and grandmother to Church
Street Market off Edgware Road. Visiting the junk shops was a drag, but the
last part of the trip more than made up for it. We’d stop off at the Regent
Snack Bar — an ice-cream parlour decorated in pistachio green, with a model
of a cone hanging above the door — where Gran would treat both of us to a
tub of vanilla ice cream. We weren’t allowed to eat it until we got home,
which made the two-minute walk seem like the longest of my life.
Somewhere during that eternal walk, an ice-cream fanatic was born. You could
say that that perfect taste haunted me, shaping my expectations and
enjoyment of ice cream. More than any other food, ice cream reflects my
feelings about the role of memory, nostalgia, history and ritual in cooking:
the way in which formative, fondly remembered experiences set a kind of
template for what we want from what we eat: a benchmark of perfection.
Before you start
The key is to keep the pastry as cold and relaxed as possible. If it’s too
warm, the fat begins to melt. If it’s overworked, the gluten develops too
much and the pastry loses its lightness. So don’t overdo the mixing and
rolling: work quickly and briefly. Cool all the equipment — greaseproof
paper, rolling pin, marble pastry board (if you have one) — in the fridge
before you start. And return the pastry to the fridge whenever you think
it’s getting too warm. The cold will harden up the butter and the resting
time will relax the gluten, after which it will be easy to work with once
more.
Coldness is, of course, also the key to the ice cream. I’ve had problems with
domestic ice-cream makers because they haven’t got the mixture cold enough.
In my search for an alternative, liquid nitrogen came up as one solution,
but it’s difficult to obtain and difficult to work with. Then I remembered
dry ice. At minus 80C, it would freeze the mixture properly without causing
havoc in the kitchen. And, as the main source of eerie mist effects on stage
and screen, it would be easier to obtain than a canister of liquid nitrogen.
The Fat Duck’s nitro-poached green tea and lime mousse is served up surrounded
by a swirl of vapour. With a bit of practice, this ice cream could be made
at the table, providing a fantastic piece of theatre as the billowing mists
of dry ice clear to reveal a cook, in goggles, bearing a bowl of ice cream
that’s out of this world.
Serves 8–10
Special equipment
Digital probe,
oven thermometer,
loose- bottomed tart tin (28cm diameter and 3cm deep),
baking beans or several handfuls of small change,
protective goggles,
safety gloves,
dry ice,
food mixer
Timing
Making the pastry requires care and patience: it needs to be made a few hours
in advance, so it can spend time chilling in the fridge. The tart is
relatively uncomplicated — the filling involves only a little heating and
mixing. And, once you’ve got the hang of dry ice, the ice cream takes no
time at all. You can even do it in advance, though I’d say it’s at its best
when first made.
For the Treacle Tart
For the pastry
400g plain flour
1 heaped tsp table salt
400g unsalted butter, chilled and diced
100g icing sugar
Zest of 1 lemon, finely grated
Seeds from 1 vanilla pod
2 large egg yolks (about 40g)
2 large eggs (about 120g)
1 Tip the flour and salt into a large bowl. Using your fingertips, rub in the
butter until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Given the amount of butter,
you may need to add and rub it in in batches.
2 Quickly stir in the icing sugar, lemon zest and vanilla seeds. Add the egg
yolks and the whole eggs, and mix until combined. Tip onto a sheet of
clingfilm, wrap it up and leave to rest in the fridge for at least 3 hours.
3 Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 150C/ 300F/Gas Mark 2. Lightly butter and
flour the tart tin.
4 Dust a piece of greaseproof paper with flour. Take the pastry out of the
fridge and remove the clingfilm. Place the pastry on the greaseproof paper.
Cut off about one third of the dough and reserve in case it is needed to
patch holes in the pastry base. (If unused, it can be frozen or baked as
biscuits.) Shake over more flour, then top with a second piece of
greaseproof paper. Begin to roll the pastry flat, moving the pin from the
centre outwards. Turn the pastry 90 degrees every few rolls. Aim for a
thickness of 3mm–5mm, and a diameter of 45cm–50cm. Once the pastry is rolled
out to the correct thickness, peel off the top layer of greaseproof paper,
trim off any excess, then wind the pastry onto the rolling pin, removing the
other layer of paper as you go. Unwind the pastry over the flan tin and
gently push it into the base and sides. Place in the fridge for 30 minutes.
5 Once the pastry has firmed up, remove it from the fridge. Prick the base
with a fork to stop it puffing up. Take a fresh piece of greaseproof paper,
scrunch it up and smooth it out several times (this makes it easier to put
in position), then place it over the pastry base. Put baking beans or, even
better, coins on top. Return the lined pastry case to the fridge for at
least 30 minutes.
6 Remove the case from the fridge and put it in the oven to bake for 25–30
minutes, until the pastry is a light, golden brown. If, after removing the
beans or coins, the base is slightly tacky, return the case to the oven for
10–15 minutes.
For the filling
Half an 800g loaf of brown bread
200g unsalted butter
3 large eggs (about 180g)
75ml double cream
2 tsp table salt
2 x 454g tins of golden syrup
Zest of 3 lemons Juice of 2 lemons (or enough to make 60ml)
1. Preheat the oven to 150C/300F/Gas Mark
2. Remove the crusts from the bread and discard. Tear the bread into pieces,
and blitz in a food processor to make breadcrumbs. Weigh out 170g and set
aside. 2 Make a beurre noisette by putting the butter in a pan over a medium
heat. When the butter stops sizzling (a sign that the water has all
evaporated, after which it will soon burn) and develops a nutty aroma,
remove it from the heat. Strain it into a jug and leave to cool. Discard the
blackened solids left in the sieve.
3. Put the eggs, cream and salt in a bowl and whisk until combined. Set aside.
4. Pour the golden syrup into a pan and heat gently until liquid. Pour 115g of
beurre noisette into the warmed syrup, and stir. (Try to avoid tipping in
any sediment that may have collected at the bottom of the jug.)
5. Pour the buttery syrup into the egg and cream mixture. Stir in the
breadcrumbs and the lemon zest and juice.
6. Transfer the mixture to a large jug. Pour two-thirds of it into the pastry
case. Slide the tart into the oven and pour in the remainder of the filling.
Bake for 50–60 minutes, or until the tart is a deep brown colour. Remove
from the oven and leave to cool before taking out of the tin.
7. Serve the treacle tart with a few grains of vanilla salt sprinkled on top,
and with a good dollop of ice cream. For a real treat, add a few banana
tuiles.
For the vanilla salt
Seeds from 2 plump vanilla pods
50g sea salt
Work the seeds into the salt with your fingers and leave to infuse until
you’re ready to serve.
For the jersey-milk ice cream
500ml whole Jersey milk
300ml double cream
80g unrefined caster sugar
100g glucose syrup 1kg dry ice
1. Put the milk, cream, sugar and glucose syrup in a pan and heat gently until
the sugar has dissolved and the glucose is liquid. Set aside.
2. Put on safety gloves and protective goggles and open the packet of dry ice.
Wrap it in a tea towel and then a hand towel and smash it into a powder with
a rolling pin. (Make sure there are no large lumps of dry ice, as these will
remain as lumps in the ice cream.) Unfold the towels and shake the powdered
dry ice into a glass bowl.
3. Pour the milk and glucose mix into the bowl of a food mixer. (From now on,
you need to work quite rapidly to avoid freezing the equipment.) Shake a
little of the dry ice into the mixing bowl and, using the mixer’s paddle,
mix on the lowest speed until the dry ice dissolves and its vapour clears.
Continue to add dry ice, a little at a time, until the ice cream has
absorbed all of it. (It may be easier to do this in two batches. It’s
important to add the dry ice in small quantities to prevent the ice cream
going grainy.) Once the dry ice is absorbed, beat the ice cream on the
second speed until smooth.
4. Quickly scrape the ice cream out of the mixer and into a container. Freeze
until required. It is best eaten within 24 hours. If you don’t want to make
your own, try www.rocombe.com for
organic Devon ice cream; www.hillstation.co.uk
for Wiltshire ice cream, or Morelli’s Gelato counter at Harrods (020 7893
8959), who will custom-make flavours with 24 hours’ notice.
Banana Tuiles
50g buttter
50g soft, white flour
50g icing sugar
50g egg white
2 ripe bananas, peeled and frozen overnight
1 Heat the butter in a saucepan until brown with a nutty aroma. Remove from
the heat and allow to cool.
2 Combine the butter and the flour into a paste, then mix in the icing sugar
and egg whites to form a smooth batter. Store in the refrigerator for
several hours, or overnight.
3 Thaw one of the bananas, then pass through a sieve. Stir this purée into
the batter.
4 Preheat the oven to 120C/250F/Gas Mark ½. Using a spatula, spread the batter
in little biscuit shapes onto a nonstick baking sheet (use a round lid to
cut around, if you wish). Place in the oven and bake for 30-40 minutes. They
should take on a light, baked colour, but shouldn’t be dark brown at the
edges.
5 Just before removing the tuiles from the oven, grate some frozen banana over
them to provide some fresh banana flavour.
6 Working quickly, use the spatula to peel the tuiles off the baking sheet
while they’re warm enough to be flexible. Place on a flat surface to cool
and harden.
Extracted and adapted from In Search of Perfection by Heston Blumenthal
(Bloomsbury £20), published on Thursday. To order for £17.99 (inc p&p),
call The Sunday Times Books First; 0870 165 8585
