Monday 22 August 2011

Birthday treats for who - the cook or the cookee?

It is no secret amongst my friends that I absolutely, wholeheartedly love birthdays.  It doesn't have to be my birthday either (although that helps, I am an only child after all), as I love other people's too.  I'm not much of a shopper, I've never really been into massive amounts of clothes, shoes, CDs, make-up, and all that other stuff that fuels the wanderings of teenagers round and round shopping malls.  Obviously I still bought all that junk - what is teenage friendship if not a group of girls all carrying identical shopping bags? - but now the only forms of shopping that get me going are food shopping, book shopping and present shopping.

Until recently, I worked at a publishing house and basically got all my books for free.  I have over one hundred still unread on my bookshelf.  So book shopping isn't really much of a concern these days.  Food shopping is a constant, present shopping is a fairly regular occurrence, but the best thing about birthdays is that often you get TO COMBINE THE TWO.  Heaven.

Birthdays are a wonderful occasion anyway, but I am positively ecstatic when I get to cook for someone for their birthday too, whether by making a cake or a whole meal.  Imagine my joy then, when at the end of July, I was able to do both in one week.  Go on, imagine it.

The first birthday was that of someone whose knee has reached the heady heights of fame by appearing in this blog, so a meal of favourite foods was on the cards.  However, my planned starter of scallops was thwarted by them not being properly in season - the lovely Maximus Fishing at my local farmers' market informed me that they were too puny to eat, but that clams might be a good alternative.

Ooh, reader, was I chuffed with these.  I sort of guessed that you probably steam clams open in white wine, garlic and parsley, and mercifully, I guessed correctly:


Three apiece of these giant creatures was filling enough, especially with warm ciabatta dunked in a bit of single estate olive oil - I'd not done that before, but it was like adding seasoning without using pepper or salt.  Curious.  No idea how that works.

For the main course, I served up a version of number one on the favourite food list - chicken and chorizo paella with lots of glorious smoked paprika.  I quite like this picture as it looks like the chicken thighs are lurking like hippos in the rice and stock:


Unlike hippos, the chicken did not attempt to drown anything just for the fun of it, but instead obediently turned succulently tender after a stint in the oven.  Yes, the oven, not the stove-top.  Thank you, Diana Henry, for removing the temptation to stir paella.


Ta-da!  Triumph in technicolour!  (Or as technicolour as my camera-phone allows.)

Dessert was something not on the official favourite foods list, but this is something that the man in question cannot share when out in a restaurant unless it has been specifically pre-arranged prior to ordering, so I was pretty sure that it was a safe bet.  And anyway, who doesn't like chocolate cake?


Another thank you to Diana Henry.  This cake is phenomenally rich and it's quite hard to have a second slice, but you can just about choke that other one down if you pour a bit of cream over the top.  Tough times, I know.

For the second birthday, as my flatmate has someone who likes their knee, I removed myself from the meal zone and entered mere cake zone.  Although to say 'mere' to describe this cheesecake would not do it justice.  A baked confection as opposed to the more available chilled version, this is, according to Nigella, a New York cheesecake.  This cheesecake is one of the reasons why I would like to go to New York.

After a brief struggle to fit all the whisked egg whites into the same bowl as the combined cream cheese, creams, sugar and egg yolks, thus resembling a rather over-ambitious cloud:


...the mixture was then poured over the chilled digestive crumb base in the tin and then subjected to a baking procedure lasting about four hours, with various flapping about with turning ovens down, off, keeping the door closed and then opening it again etc etc blah blah blah.  None of this is important though, when you feast your eyes upon the creation that emerges:


Or, as in my flatmate's case, just feast your whole face.


See?  That's birthday joy right there.