I have to admit my childish excitement and pleasure with the BBC series Kitchen Secrets. The Restaurant is fun, it touches on the potential that two people may have, I try and see past the TV magnified car crashes, and choose a pair who are unpolished gems. I have done this throughout my career without the glare of the cameras. I have forgiven many a young cooks howling mistakes because I see in them a passion, a commitment and a vision. I persevered for a very simple reason, I was once them. Dear reader, you may be shocked to hear, that I did not come fully formed out of the free range organic egg. Yes I had the greatest inspiration and teacher in Maman Blanc, but let us say that I am relieved that there were no cameras following me round in my early days.

So back to reality, back to what I love best, back to my roots; back to the kitchen. To be given a pulpit by the BBC to preach and teach what I love best is an absolute joy.  To do so in my little paradise of Le Manoir is nirvana. (Who could fail to enjoy the combination of paradise and nirvana!)

In a way there are no secrets in a kitchen, it is simply a combination of passion and alchemy, except that unlike alchemy we have found the formula for transmuting base products into gold. The real aim of the program is a bit like a meal, simple easy recipes as starters, robustly technical ones as main courses and crowning glory desserts where you skills shine.

With my sorcerer’s apprentice Adam, our aim in making the program was to blur the lines between levels of expertise. In a professional kitchen you do not start on day one making Soufflé of Cornish gill-net Dover Sole with ginger and grapefruit, you’d be lucky to peel a potato. I started washing up and watching. Why should a professional cook be any different to all of you out there. As my mother never fails to remind me, simplicity sometimes is best, it is the only way to properly pay due respect to a fine ingredient. Picking wild mushrooms with my father so that my Maman Blanc could sauté them in a bit of butter, garlic and parsley is still hard to beat. I found that cooking programs on TV were one thing or another. Either they were very basic or they were aspirational. This is fine for either group, but I thought it somehow missed some fundamental truths about cooking:

One: If you practice you will get better
Two: Sometimes you need to keep it simple

So don’t panic if you think that some of the recipes are beyond your capabilities, they are not. And if you have become such a foodie that you will only cook dishes that will “épater les tourists” (amaze the tourists) stop and listen to my mother, many a great chef I know relishes a simple bacon sandwich. Either way please do not sit and simply watch, go into the kitchen and get cooking.

Have I let the cat out of the bag? Are there kitchen secrets? Not really, like the alchemists, chefs tend to keep recipes and potions close to their hearts but our “dark art” should never become like that of the magician where revealing the trick leads to a life time of shame. In my kitchen every new acolyte is welcome and when they become wizards it just means I have to up my game. After all I have a position to maintain.

Onions

If there was such a thing as a culinary epiphany, I think Maman Blanc gently sweating onions in butter has got to be a strong contender for me. How could something that brought tears of pain nearly produce tears of joy? How could such a now humble vegetable be so important to cooking? I am talking of the common or garden variety of bulb onion. On a side note, never has an English expression been so offensive to me, just because it is common does not mean it is bad and the fact that it grows in the garden is derogatory? The culinary French know a good thing; “occupe toi de tes oignons” (look after your onions) means mind your own business. I rest my case. Back to onions, again. They are part of the Allium genus with garlic, shallots, leeks and chives. Should be Allium genius really. Onions are essential ingredients pretty much throughout the world; stick a pin in a world map, think of a local dish and the chances are there are onions in there somewhere. So where did this globally successful invader come from? There is no wild version of the “common” onion, it has always been cultivated. Well my dear readers, I’m afraid that the humble onion, is not ready to divulge its origins that easily. The nearest wild species can be found in central Asia notably Iran. How it got around is a detective story with the last age missing. Bronze age settlements in Europe have yielded traces of onions but no cookery books. The Egyptians are the first to leave a trail, the onion was elevated to a god like status (something to do with the rings and eternal life) They were eaten by the good and the great and even used in burial rituals of kings. As with many things the Greeks and then the Roman’s took the baton. The Greeks gave it a medical leaning (thinning of the blood) whilst the Romans continued in a therapeutic vain rubbing the muscles of gladiators to firm them up. It was however during the middle ages that the onion reached mythical heights of medical goodness. The list is endless: hair loss, Viagra substitute, headaches, cough, and digestion problems. Oddly enough across the globe, some religious sects shunned the onions for their “hot” properties. The bulb reached such mythical properties it was even used as currency. On his 1492 expedition Columbus took onions and they invaded the Americas. The march south from its roots (sorry) in central Asia is really not documented, but I would imagine, like many other things followed the trade roots. And that seems to be it, but then I discover that there are records of the onion being grown in China 3000 BC, about the same time the Pharaohs were placing them in their eyes and private areas (once dead), so I  give up.

Completely forgot to talk about the name, it is derived from the Latin unio, meaning the one, and one thing we know about onions is: we really don’t know where they came from and to use a better English expression “don’t look a gift horse in the mouth” (but don’t feed them onions it’s bad for them)

June

The month of the longest day and hopefully any worries are behind us. Let’s start with the boring and tedious, that lawn needs a lot of loving, mow it twice a week (don’t forget the edges) water it if it is dry and keep weeding if there any signs of invaders.

If you have lavenders or rosemary some pruning back is in order. If you had bedding plants such as tulips, leave them till they are brown and papery before lifting them out. Hedges will start behaving like unruly children; they will need constant attention, especially if you have a final shape in mind. Wonder the borders looking for the plants that will need the help of stakes later on in the year. This also applies to the climbing roses, here try and train them horizontally, they will produce more flowers.

All roses will need some fertilizer, at least once a month. A good deadheading of your annuals will encourage another flowering.

July

Time to enjoy all you hard work. Time to water (if possible). If any of shrubs have finished flowering, dead head and prune, ready for next year. Plant any Autumn flowering bulbs. Watch your roses for deceases (rust etc) and spray if needed. Remember that any container plants, they will need even more warterin.

August

Few things are needed but they are important, and will be regretted if not done. More water I’m afraid. Plant your daffs and crocuses for next spring. Keep dead heading. Keep those borders tidy, pick up old leaves, flowers etc.

Mackerel Escabèche

It’s time we understood that fish have seasons as well. Mackerel is a still not the most popular of fish, I just can’t understand why. On the outside it presents the most stunning kaleidoscope of blues and silvers, a fishy Van Gogh night sky. The flesh is every bit as good as tuna and jam packed wit goodness. Maybe the bones and blood put people off who think fish should be white and anodyne. Escabèche though definitely of Spanish origin, has a home in the Languedoc and Provence area of France (as well as being exported to the Americas)

Maquereaux en Escabèche (SERVES POUR 4 starter or 2 main course)
Soused Mackerel - d’origine from Languedoc

From Languedoc

• Small saucepan and lid
• Large non stick frying pan
• Large spatula
• Dish to fit fish on one layer
• Large knife
• Chopping board
• Greaseproof paper

INGREDIENTS

• 4 x 100g mackerel fillets (ask your fishmonger to pin and bone them)
• 1 dessert spoon olive oil

• 60 gm butter
• 1 carrot
• 1 garlic  clove finely chopped
• 4 Small onions
• 1 non waxed lemon
• 30 cl white wine (Muscadet is lovely)
• 1 dessert spoon white wine vinegar
• Small bunch of parsley
• 2 thyme stalks
• 1 tea spoon of black pepper
• 1 tea spoon coriander seed
• salt

COOK

1. If you are fussy about “bits” in your food, you will need to tie up coriander, pepper & thyme in some cloth (I just leave them as it is much easier)
2. Skin the carrots and onions
3. Slice carrots, onions and the lemon into roughly 4mm slices
4. Put vinegar and wine in saucepan and bring to the boil
5. Add the butter, carrots, garlic, spices, parsley and salt
6. Simmer for 5 minutes
7. add lemon slices
8. Bring back to the boil and take off the heat
9. Heat the dessert spoon of oil in the frying pan
10. Seal the fillets on both sides briefly (couple of second)
11. place in fillets in serving dish (skin up) avoid putting them on top of another
12. Pour over the marinade
13. Now the beauty of this dish is that it is ready to eat, but I prefer cooling it down I the fridge and letting those ingredients mingle and eating it cold.

As a main course simply boil some new potatoes till soft, simply crush till just broken. Add some olive oil and chopped chives, salt and pepper

Burgundy

Where does one start, from a culinary point of view Burgundy has an almost obscene richness of food and wine, it would have been only fair that the scenery and towns were ugly. This is not the case, history; trade and geology have combined to ensure that the visual delights match the culinary ones. I am always somewhat perplexed that it remains an area little visited by the British, it seems to be that place on the motorway on the way south. No more I say.

Dijon

Sometimes a city becomes so famous for one thing it is to the detriment of everything else. Unless you have been in a cave for the past couple of hundred years you will be aware of Dijon mustard. It the French mustard and maybe the mustard par excellence. Whilst we are on the subject good readers, maybe you could help me with a long running mystery.  When I first arrived in this fair land, I was shocked when served what was sold to me as French mustard. This came as a dark brown sweetish mass, usually drying round the sides. What on earth was it, it certainly was not French (answers on a postcard) Back to Dijon, having become so famous for the mustard, somehow people seem to imagine that that’s it, Dijon, you’ve got the mustard, don’t be greedy. Well the mustard is only for starters, after all this is the capital of the Dukes of Burgundy. Geographically and tactically it is in a perfect position and can trace its roots back to the Romans. It is the Dukes, however who put it on the map.

So it is only fitting that we visit their powerbase: Palais des Ducs. It has to be said that imposing as it may be, the palais is a bit of a temporal architectural jigsaw. Started in the 14th century, its last alteration was in the 19th. This is home improvement on a grand scale, only the Dukes could ignore centuries of town planners. Here the medieval rubs shoulders with the baroque. Unsurprising as it shares an architect with Versailles. Standing physically and ecstatically above the rest is the Tour Phillipe -le-Bon, a lovely 15th century tower that affords wonderful views of Dijon and the Côtes D’Or, if you can brave the 300 odd steps that is. Otherwise the palais is a bit like an oyster, not exactly pretty on the outside but inside revealing a marvel with the odd pearl. First it houses a fine Musée des Beaux Arts, whilst it may not boast the greats it has some absolutely delightful pieces. The pearl are the rooms (even the kitchen with its 6 massive cooking chimneys). These are grandiose rooms, rich and luxurious. I just do not have the skill to describe them. They are the architectural version of an incredibly rich chocolate cake, with chocolate sauce and a good spoon full of Devon cream for good measure. Don’t miss the Salle des Statues and the Salle des Guardes. At worst you’ll never think your neighbour’s gold taps are ostentatious again.

A short walk from the Palais is the Rue des Forges, with its Renaissance buildings and their mix of stone, dark wood and local red tiles, it is a perfect antidote for the excesses of the Palais. At the end of the street you will arrive in Place François Rude, now the sight that will greet may make you think that the Rude is question was just plain rude, but the golden Bareuzai that takes pride of place at the centre of the square has nothing to do with poor François (he was however the sculptor of the freezes on the Arc de Triomphe) The resplendent young man you before you is the area’s version of the Bow bells. You see Bareuzai (or pink stockings) are the real natives of this quarter, why the colour pink? I can only surmise that it has something to do with treading grapes, though just around the corner you will enter Cul Bleu (blue arse) territory, and there I think my theory falls apart.

Dijon has many other little splendours, so do wonder around regardless of colour.

Vezelay

It seems inconceivable that this tranquil little village and St Bernard, better know for his lifesaving canine namesake, should be the launch point for something as bloody as the 2nd crusade. But history has a habit of starting in the oddest places, and it is indeed in Vezelay that St Bernard first preached the need for a crusade. He of course did not pick the village out of the phone book; it was home to a very powerful Benedictine abbey and allegedly one of the resting places of Mary Magdalene’s bones. This led in turn to St Francis of Assisi to choosing the place for the fist of his monasteries in France. Throw in Richard the Lion Heart meeting his French counterpart here before setting of for the 3rd crusade, and I am sure you will agree that Vezelay has more than its fair share of history (the wine is nothing to sniff at either)

As usual I digress, if you think that one abbey simply is not worth a small detour, UNESCO disagree and has put it on the list of World Heritage Sites. True my republican friends did quite some damage to the exterior, but not enough to detract from the sheer marvel of the abbey.

It always amuses me, when people point to old and ancient buildings and use them as a great example “leaving things well alone” As with most French and European historical buildings, the abbey is a complete architectural spider’s web built over a very long time period. The finished item in this case spans 10 centuries, from the 9th C to the 19th C.

One of the things that will strike you as you enter the abbey is what some describe as its main building material; light. The abbey has been built to light up in a very precise way. Here god will not hide in the shadows, he lights up worshipers. Apparently this reaches its nadir at noon on the summer solstice. For us less than organised folk, a sunny day will suffice to delight in the somewhat mystic way the light plays with the interior.  The main doorway is also much talked about, I particularly love the depiction (mainly on the lintel) of the people who have not “hear the word of our lord”. Look out for men with pig snouts, elephant eared men, feathered men and a good smattering of dwarves, one trying to mount a horse with the help of a ladder. What you are staring at is some very early spin, it’s a sign saying “do not enter here at your peril” or a billboard advertising the plight of the sort of people the crusades were going to save. A long trek up the tower will reveal a lovely view of the surrounding valleys and the Morvan.

The Morvan

Natural beauty has sadly never had much currency, the Morvan is no exception. With no geographical importance or natural resources, the area has been generally passed over by the history of man. It’s most famous product was wet nurses; they were considered fine specimens when breast feeding your own was frowned on. There is now a National Park, a recognition of what is a truly wonderful area of natural beauty.

There are many little trips you can take in the Morvan, one example is the one that takes you from St Honoré les Bains to Autun. The road is not unlike the end of the Italian Job (the original not the awful remake) so if you have any gold in the back of the car be careful. This trip takes you through the higher parts of the Morvan. St Honoré les Bains is a chance to try some real mineral water; not the bottled stuff we all know but the real thing. These are heavy in sulphur and cyanide and said to be a boon to those with breathing difficulties. It is well worth a try, if only so that you will never call bottled water “mineral” again. Now that you are feeling re-invigorated take the road leading to Vielle Montagne, a relatively relaxed drive. When you get there a little walk is in order. Park up and follow the signs to the Belvédère de la Vieille Montagne. Here you will get your first view of the real Morvan, Mount Beuvrey and the surrounding forests spliced with those sharp rock formations. And we are off again towards Larochemillay.  This is a delightful little village with a fine 18c castle over and fine views over the Roche valley. And we are off again heading towards Autun, skirting Mount Beuvrey. From here it is just the shear beauty of nature, the Morvan is Tolkien like. Dense forests are only interrupted by sharp rocks seemingly springing from the trees and dangerous gorges appearing from nowhere. You half expect to be slowed down by a group of tunnelling dwarves. Sadly the average Frenchman would still react with some excited use of the car horn. I do not want to spoil the trip with a detailed description of every turn, there are too many and I really don’t have the time. Autun is no shabby end of the line, it was the gateway to Burgundy for the Romans and possesses its own Cathedral St Lazarus. Maybe after a day spent in the car, a walk along the ramparts will stretch your legs, it will also allow you spot one of many little jewels in Autun that you still have the energy to visit.

Go for gooseberries, a great British fruit that bring that lovely tartness, try in fools or tarts. Apricots are also coming into season, though they may be a bit late this year, give them to kids; easy to prise apart, remove stone and eat. Watermelons are a lovely way to cool down, keep a slice in the fridge and eat in the garden spitting the seeds out, what could be more fun. Those plump broad beans are ready for a summer risotto and peppery watercress for a lovely orange and watercress salad. The English asparagus is in full season, steam with vinaigrette. Now is the time to get fresh crab, a little dollop of mayonnaise suffices or even just lemon.

No question blackberries and blueberries are a must; encourage the kids, what better way to get them to eat fruit than have them blue mouthed for a couple of hours. Courgette and fennel are at their best, combine them raw in a olive oil and lemon salad. Get the last of your new potatoes, simply steamed with some grilled halibut. Basil, yes it should be seasonal, and only in July and august where the sun has intensified those delectable flavours.

Time for cherries, another fool proof kids fruit. Serve from a bowl of cold water. The beginning of the fig season may take more convincing with the kids, but you can make a wonderful salad with some blue cheese. Peaches ripe and juicy. It is the beginning of broccoli time, steamed till just tender sprinkled with some olive oil and a hint of chilli. Anything with garlic, which is at its best this time of year. Sweetcorn, something we French only give to pigs and chicken (unbelievable) steamed and covered with butter or why not use the kernels to make corn pancakes.

Actions speak louder than words they say, and though I would be a complete philistine to so simply brush off the great literature and rallying calls that the men and women of this little planet have produced over history, in some cases it is a great truism. I have known for some time that all is not well on the aforementioned little planet, especially in my minuscule world of food. It is hard to encapsulate the exact causes but I am going to settle with the word “over”. A little word that says it all, we are over fishing and if we don’t stop it is going to be all over (as far as the fishing heritage this generation is in charge of is concerned)

This is of course not a new problem but has, over the past few years, become an increasing concern to the public. This is of course a wonderful thing, fishmongers, retailers and restaurants can lead, but the public must follow, or better still demand. I do not know of an allegedly aware generation like mine, who, in a such a small time span has had such and effect on a species. We happily ignored history; whales, American bison and many more besides. When I first started cooking, salmon was amongst culinary royalty, seabass a commoner and monkfish the very poor man’s lobster. At the turn of the last century, one of England’s great dishes, steak and kidney pie, was served as steak, kidney and oyster, not for because of any culinary tour de force, but because oysters were cheap and plentiful and used as make weights. Simply put our eating habits regarding fish are over.

This change does not come easily, and at the Manoir and in the Brasseries, we have been working very hard on this for some years. Immediately I saw that the solution was not going to be simple. The end result was easy, quality fish that my guests would enjoy. To start with the problem was information, there are just under 30,000 species of fish (not all edible) so including all the sub species, and the numbers melt your brain. Add farmed fish to the mix, the fabled solution but only if you discount the possible quality and the effect these farms have on the local environment. Finding a trustful partner with the knowledge and vision was not easy. Sometimes these various organisation gave us contrary information. I can’t blame them, gathering correct information from neat and far, at sea, throughout the year is an unenviable task. After an enormous amount of work, I finally got there. The work was rewarded with the recent awards by Fish2 fork, placing the Manoir top of the league and the Brasseries in the top 10 restaurants in the UK.

This, however, is not about blowing our own horn; I called this piece fishy business for a reason. Cheap food is cheap for a reason, fish is no different. There is a price to pay for all this, whether wild or farmed, quality fish is even more expensive these days and I hope that the public understand this. The easiest example is chicken, I can go and buy a chicken in a supermarket for under £3.50 or at the top end I would not get much change from £30. Both are chickens but the similarity stops there; the taste and the type of farming will differ wildly. So here is the point of this sermon, I know that compared to many the Manoir and the Brasseries fish dishes slightly steeper, but they like that for a reason and a bloody good one at that. I really think that the industry as a whole should follow the same approach.

There is a risk that whole chapters of cookery books will be consigned to the history section of libraries, dishes will take on mythical status and old men like me will be asked what we did in the fish wars.

The choice is ultimately yours, especially tough in such difficult times I understand, but I have made mine.

Il faut cultiver son jardin

February

I write this as England is paralysed by snow, so any thoughts of getting the garden ready for Spring seem futile but in February you will be setting the foundations for your plants’ year ahead.

If the weather is promising to be clement start unwrapping anything you may have given a winter coat to. You could use these old overcoats to protect and warm up areas that you plan to plant (recycle)

Any Winter or early Spring bedding plants should be dead-headed, this may encourage a longer flowering period

If it is a clement February you can prune your roses towards the end of the month, this may also apply to a number of simmer flowering shrubs.

Your perennials should be looked at and any brown leaves cut.

If the drainage on your lawn is poor, a quick fork will improve it immensely. Finally a sprinkling of bonemeal on the beds will go down a treat

March

March is when you regret not listening to my advise regarding planning and ordering.

Busy time for the lawn, rake and spike, sow or lay new turf and give it a light trim and apply some fertiliser

This is the time to plant your standard and climbing roses (spray for black spot) This is a good time for clematis too, but towards the end of the month.

Yes the weeds are back, small maybe, but start weeding. Slugs are also awake, looking towards those new tender shoots.

If you spent those winter months choosing and ordering those summer flowering bulbs, now is the time to plant them. The same goes for any hardy annuals you plan to grow from seed.

April

Keep giving your lawn a light trim and fill any holes that may appear.

Last chance for flowering bulbs (see March)

Weeds are now in full swing, so you will have to be out with the hoe. Though beware of the tender shoots.

Dead head the daffodils and any tulips as the flowers fade, why waste all that energy on seeds.

A good time to prune the buddleias, hardy fuchsias and hydrangeas.

It is easy to forget stakes, before the plants get too big and you struggle. The other advantage is that the plants will grow around the stake thus hiding them.

Enjoy