ROSE GRAY 28 JANUARY 1939 – 28 FEBRUARY 2010

Sunday 28th February saw the sad passing after a prolonged battle with cancer of Rose Gray, a bona fide legend in the world of catering, and indeed modern British cuisine. I won’t treat this article as a formal obituary, but simply a mark of respect and gratitude from a chef aspiring to follow the example of Rose Gray and Ruth Rogers. The pair opened a decidedly ramshackle, unassuming Italian cafe on Thames Wharf in the London borough of Hammersmith, initially as a canteen for the local business community. The striking difference to this canteen however was the emphasis on honest, ingredient-led cooking as experienced by Gray during stints living and working in Tuscany. This sounds like the credo of every London restaurant now, but in 1987 it was a revelation. As Gray said, Italian food at that point was “all Spaghetti Bolognese and Tiramisu”.

The River Cafe changed all that, and more. At that point, London dining establishments were in the grip of Nouvelle Cuisine fever, the epitome of Emperor’s New Clothes 80’s tackiness. Flavour profiles and the showcasing of wonderful ingredients were eschewed in favour of competing to see who was ballsy enough to put the weirdest combinations of car-crash flavours together in miniscule portions, with a horrifying price tag to solidify the soulless “greed is good” trend of the city. As for the rest of the country – you really don’t want to know what the general level of dining was in 1987. Trust me. Thank the Food Gods, then, for Rose and Ruth and the shimmering oasis of the River Cafe. Dishes were served that sometimes only had two or three ingredients. Platings were simple. The ingredient was the king, the lure, the dangling carrot was, well, very often a carrot. The Cafe soon became massively popular, an institution to food lovers. The pair were approached to write a book. They declined, explaining that they were cooks, not writers. Eventually they were won over, and again, I give thanks that they did. Of all chefs who publish cookbooks, and I mean ALL, the biggest testament to the impact of these two ladies I can impart is that the River Cafe Cookbook, not to mention it’s progeny, has been present in every single kitchen I have ever worked in. More than Larousse, Escoffier, even the college-issued “Practical Cookery”, the Ramsay and Oliver ouvre (and more of the latter in a moment) – if the chef had a love for food, you could bet there would be a dog-eared, splattered copy of TRCC somewhere in the dry store. Everything in those books, as long as you followed the recipes, both worked and tasted delicious. And I’ve cooked the first book from cover to cover. Spaghetti with Crab and Chilli, Amarone Risotto, Zuppa di Pesce, Sea Bass with Lemon and Fennel…I learnt a lot about respecting the things you cook from their recipes. Another great point of admiration I have for Gray is the total lack of desire to become famous outside of the kitchen. Make no mistake, there was no celebrity in this chef. She took her pleasure from the undeniable buzz that is to be had from working a stove, running a pass, and in training youngsters. This last aspect is legendary when talking about the River Cafe. In the near two and a half decades of trading, the Cafe produced a good percentage of Britain’s best young chefs, most famously the now for better or worse ubiquitous Jamie Oliver. Look through an Oliver cookbook, then bring up the current menu at the River Cafe to see the difference made by Gray’s teaching. She may not have had a show on the Food Network, a range of signature pans or a raft of annoying TV commercials, but in my world, in the circles I move in, we have lost a true national treasure in the incomparable Rose Gray. The legacy she leaves is the most perfect tribute.

Rose Gray (front) and Ruth Rogers at work in the River Cafe

Casey – (Here Goes Nothing)

Here’s a fantastic and relatively cheap winter soup that takes a somewhat dull and bland vegetable and makes it anything but. Incidentally, our overseas readers may know swede as rutabaga. I’d have it with thick toast or warm fresh crusty bread. Let me know what you think if you made it!

ROASTED SWEDE AND HONEY SOUP
SERVES APPROX 4

1 swede, peeled and chopped into bite-sized pieces
2 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp honey
1 onion, finely chopped
1 celery stalk, finely chopped
1 litre stock (cubes/powder is fine)
4 sprigs thyme
125ml cream
2 tsp fresh rosemary needles, chopped

Preheat the oven to 200C/Gas 6. Place the swede on a roasting tin and drizzle over half the oil and the honey. Place in the oven and bake for 20-30 minutes. Blitz in the food processor and set to one side.

Heat the remaining oil in a medium-sized saucepan, add the onion and celery and cook for a few minutes until translucent but not coloured. Add the stock and thyme, bring to the boil, then simmer for 10 minutes.

Liquidise and pass through a sieve, add to the swede, then add the cream, adjust the seasoning and serve in warmed bowls with a sprinkling of rosemary.

-Casey (Here Goes Nothing)

As a little addendum to the Cheese episode of Crimes Against Food (perhaps we could call this a fancy garnish), I’m offering a couple of fine additions to any cheeseboard – firstly, the national institution that is the Jacob’s Cream Cracker and just why we love it so, and secondly, a quick recipe for Tomato, Ginger and Chilli Jam, which I serve with the cheeseboard in my restaurant. Bon appetit!

It turns out that the cream cracker – a British household staple – is not British, strictly speaking. America was the birthplace, and every half–decent general store would have a barrel full of these easily made, cheap crackers, originally sold as a source of roughage for the maintaining of a healthy US……you know. But it is nonetheless a quintessential household prescence here in GB due to the endeavours of brothers William and Robert Jacob. They took note of the popularity of the US cracker and upon his return to his Dublin factory  he began production of the cream cracker as we know it in 1885. It was no doubt that their plainness appealed to the Victorian sensibilty, who no doubt viewed anything spicy or stimulating as a tool of Beelzebub to corrupt the morals. The cracker fitted this attitude like a glove. Other countries have similar cracker biscuits, but none seem to taste the same as our perfect Jacob’s. Crisp without being hard, with a mild toasty flavour (and I’m talking mild) and wrapped unmistakeably in a glorious livery of bright orange with a distinctive black diamond holding it’s makers name, Cream Crackers demand to be coupled with a bit of butter and some cheese. I am slightly afraid of  stopping to consider just how many cream cracker and Chedddar “sandwiches” I have consumed in my lifetime. Let’s just say it’s a lot. It was my go-to homecoming snack in my schooldays, and anyone with a passing notion of the teenage boy and his unending hunger will get the message. And it really has to be Cheddar. Sorry, but it does. Pesto or Mozzarella di Buffale are divine, but don’t put them on a cream cracker, there’s a good soldier. This leads to another illustration of just how well this little crisp biscuit square fits the national psyche. It doesn’t like to make a fuss or put on airs. It despises being thought of as wanting to be above its station. It displays this by being at its best with decidely ordinary cheese. A plastic wrapped chunk of corner shop, mass-produced cheddar is the best friend a cream cracker could have. Leave the earthy, majestic unpasteurised Montgomery Cheddar, or hand crafted Cornish Yarg with its beautiful nettle leaf rind to the oatcake. JCC’s don’t want any trouble.

And just how much more could it be made for British tastebuds and, sadly just as important, wallets? Pale? Check? Crunchy? Check? Cheap? Check. Sold! At one point, JCCs accounted for 50% of the UK cracker market; these days it doesn’t enjoy quite such a monopoly. Times are changing, as shown by Jacob’s launch of the Mediterranean version of the sacred Cream Cracker. But would you really want to try and eat three of those without a drink? (Sorry, forgot to mention. The cracker has another beloved British use, namely as entertainment for drunken crowds or children’s parties. The idea is to eat three, without the aid of liquid lubrication, in under 60 seconds. Sounds easy, but for anyone who has tried, it becomes akin to trying to eat a mouthful of sand. Oh, and the world record is 49.15secs, held by Ambrose Mendy) Despite these moves towards a more internationally welcoming nibble, I can’t imagine a time when we will evolve past the simple, unassuming delight of the triple whammy – crunchy biscuit, salty butter and completely non-farmhouse cheese.
“Don’t forget the crackers, lad.” I’m with Wallace and Gromit.

TOMATO, GINGER AND CHILLI JAM

• Makes approximately 750ml-1litre, depending on how “jammy” you like it!
• 
  
• 500g very ripe tomatoes
• 4 cloves garlic, peeled
• 4 red chillies
• 1 thumb-sized piece of root ginger, peeled and chopped
• 30ml Thai fish sauce
• 300g golden caster sugar
• 100ml red wine vinegar
• 
  
• 
  
• METHOD
• 1. Dice half of the tomatoes.2. Blend the whole tomatoes in a food processor along with the garlic, chillies, ginger and fish sauce until the mixture reaches a pureé consistency.

  2. Pour the mixture into a deep heavy-based pan together with the sugar and vinegar. Bring to the boil and slowly stir.

  3. Once the mixture has reached boiling point, reduce to a simmer and add the remaining diced tomatoes.

  4. Skim off any scum that forms with a metal spoon and cook for 30 -40 minutes, stirring from time to time to prevent sticking.

  5. Pour the mixture into a warmed sterilised jar. Seal while still warm and label the jars when cold. Alternatively pour on a glass serving dish and allow to cool before serving.

NB: These make a great Christmas present along with some fine unpasteurised cheeses from your local cheesemonger. Oh, it’s just Allison and me that have one of those, then. Damn you, intensive farming!

-Casey (Here Goes Nothing)