Kitchen
A winter board with three new dishes
The cold has settled over the mountains, and the kitchen has answered it. Three dishes joined the board last week, and two old favourites were retired with some ceremony.
From the stove
What the cold asked for
Clayton Richards decides the board a week at a time, but the big changes happen only once a season. This year they came after a morning of frost on the Parke Street footpath, when he arrived at the kitchen door and announced that the whole menu felt too light for the weather.
By noon he had written three new dishes on the back of a flour bag. By four o'clock the first of them was being tasted by the whole kitchen, standing up, in a silence I have learned to respect.
The three newcomers
Lamb and barley soup
A broth of lamb neck, pearl barley, carrot and swede, simmered all afternoon until the barley goes soft and the whole pot smells of the countryside. It is served with a wedge of damper and a little butter, and it has already become the dish the staff eat before the doors open.
Mushroom and thyme pie
A vegetarian pie, made after repeated requests from the dining room. Field mushrooms are cooked down with thyme and a splash of cream, then sealed under shortcrust. Several guests have asked for the pastry recipe, and Clayton has politely declined each of them.
Ginger pear pudding
A steamed sponge with poached pears and stem ginger, turned out onto a plate and served with hot custard. It replaces the winter trifle, which was loved but too heavy to follow a pie. The new pudding is a little lighter and, I am told, a good deal harder to cook.
What was retired
The cold roast chicken and the winter trifle have gone, with thanks. Both will return in spring, in different clothes. The tea has not changed at all, and Clayton says it never will.
If you are coming for dinner this week, I would suggest the barley soup on a cold night and the ginger pear pudding to follow. Tell the host if you would like the mushroom pie reserved, since the first batch has a way of disappearing before eight o'clock, and the kitchen bakes only as many as it can carry upstairs and down.