Notes on the Autumn Menu, One Course at a Time

The menu has been on for eight days, and the plates look calm. They weren't, on the way here. A week of failed tests sits behind them, and I'd like to put some of it on the record.

The whey that split

The first course wanted a cold, clean dressing around the pear. I'd planned a whey vinaigrette: a pot of whey left from cheese-making, warmed slightly, whisked with oil. On paper, simple. On the stove, it split every single time, a grainy curd floating in a puddle.

Dale solved it by accident. He forgot a batch in the walk-in overnight and found it set to a loose, silky gel. We stopped heating it. Now it's whisked cold, and the dill oil goes in last, drop by drop. Nothing about it is clever, which I now recognise as the mark of a dish that works.

The crust

The celeriac is baked inside salt, and for the first four tries the crust cracked early and the root came out sodden. Salt crust is basically water and patience. I'd used too much of the first and not enough of the second. More egg white to bind it, a lower oven, and a tray of water on the shelf below, and the crust finally held for ninety minutes. We crack it at the table now because the sound is half the fun.

The trout and its enemies

Lake trout is a delicate fish with firm opinions about time. Thirty seconds too long and it chalks. Horseradish was the real danger, though. Fresh and grated it's relentless, and my first version made Priya cough across the pass. I cut it with cream until it stopped being a punishment and became a pleasant warmth at the back of the nose.

The lamb

Lamb shoulder is a forgiving cut, which makes it a trap. You can't really ruin it, so you stop paying attention, and you end up with something merely fine. The first batch was fine. It was rich and soft and could have been served anywhere.

What changed it was the quince. I'd been poaching it in syrup. Roasting it dry with a little verjus kept the fruit firm and sharp enough to cut the fat. And I stopped basting the lamb with its own juices at the end, which let the crust darken properly. Two small changes, and "fine" became the course people ask about.

The apple

The final course barely changed from the first idea. The apples came from Brindle Hill, as promised, and I mostly stayed out of their way. Sometimes the right move is to leave a good thing alone for six weeks and say nothing.

If you're coming this month, the full menu with pairings is the place to start. And if you spot any of the mistakes above in your own cooking, take heart. The pros make them first.