Conspicuous consumption

Lights, camera, action ... the food will just have to wait.

It’s a cold Wellington night and half the tables in the restaurant are occupied by food bloggers. It used to be that when a guest produced a camera, it was usually to record a special occasion, a moment of sentimentality. Now, the camera is there for the food paparazzi to record each dish, every single artistically arranged piece of meat, drip of sauce, mound of vegetables or bread roll before a bite is even taken. I am flattered they are so excited that they want to shoot these photos, but I worry about their food getting cold.

Later that same night these photos will be posted onto the internet and offered up as the latest post-dinner party conversation for public consumption, with the translation of something only just tasted, touched and experienced there for all to see.

This restaurant was once posted on a blog as far away as Texas within 15 minutes of our saying good night to the guests. Then, somewhat bemused, we followed the extraordinary and thankfully positive online discussion that resulted.

Such immediacy is not always the case. There was the international blogger with an influential number of followers who came for dinner on a media junket, ate and drank for free, and told me that the beauty of food blogging was the potential of communicating the experience to a worldwide audience within hours. That was three months ago and we haven’t seen a picture or comment yet.

We also had one blogger make his wife wait for 45 minutes for dinner while he went back to the hotel for his camera. There was another guest who asked if I objected to his taking photos. He set up a tripod on the table and another that arranged a flash strobe next to his table, then requested power to operate it.

These self-appointed food critics have a frightening number of collective followers, and restaurateurs are wary of the power that some may have. Tell the waiter you are a food blogger and you are likely to get a little more wine in your glass, an extra bread roll or that complimentary course “courtesy of the kitchen” that no other table seems to get. Well, only the other tables that don’t have bloggers at them. Next time you’re out for dinner, try it and see what happens – before restaurateurs issue a code of conduct.

Anyway, back to the cold nights. This salad-cream dressing is terrific served with roast chicken, and radishes tossed through some winter salad leaves, but the dish is also a great accompaniment to roast game such as venison or wild duck.

Roasted Jerusalem Artichoke, Silverbeet and Parmesan with English Salad-Cream Dressing

500g jerusalem artichokes

250ml cream

Preheat the oven to 180°C. Scrub the artichokes under cold running water and slice each in half lengthwise. Heat the oil and butter together in a small roasting dish, then place the artichokes cut-side down and leave to colour lightly, shaking the pan to prevent them sticking. Squeeze the lemon juice over them, season with salt and pepper, then roast for 50 minutes until tender. Remove to a warm plate.

While the artichokes are cooking, bring a large saucepan of salted water to the boil. Remove and discard the silverbeet stalks. Add the leaves to the water and cook for 2 minutes. Drain thoroughly, season again and wring the silverbeet out until there is no water left. Arrange the artichokes on a serving plate and layer the silverbeet on top. Spoon over the dressing and sprinkle with shavings of parmesan cheese.

For the dressing, hard-boil the eggs for about 8 minutes, then place under cold running water to cool. Shell, then slice the eggs in half and remove the yolks. Discard the whites. Put the yolks into a bowl with the mustard and vinegar, then mix to form a thick paste. Slowly add the cream, then check the seasoning. Store the dressing in the fridge for up to 3 days.

Serves 2.

The fig season came and went before I had a real chance to do anything with them. Fortunately the quince season is a bit longer, and I do not intend to waste the opportunity. Already, the restaurant kitchen has been busy making rose-scented quince pastes for cheeses and bottling amber-hued quarters of the fruit to be put into ice-cream later in the year.

Roast Quinces with Crème FraÎche and Caramel Syrup

80g caster sugar

100g crème fraîche

Preheat the oven to 180°C. Heat the sugar, water, cloves and cinnamon quill until boiling. Peel, seed and quarter the quinces, rubbing them with lemon juice to prevent browning. Place the quinces in the syrup and simmer for 25 minutes until tender. Remove the quinces to a roasting dish, cover with 1 cup of cooking liquid, add the honey and bake for 30 minutes. Serve with crème fraîche and the cooking juices.

Enough for 4.

The Catalunya region of Spain is famous for its gastronomic history. Very similar to a French crème brûlee, crème catalan is a rich custard covered with a cara­melised sugar coating. You don’t have to use quince, but it adds a subtle fragrance.

Quince Crème Catalan with Campari Caramel

2 tbsp cornflour

200ml water

In a bowl dissolve the cornflour in 2 tablespoons of the milk, then whisk in the yolks and set aside. In a saucepan bring the remaining milk to a simmer with 125g of the sugar, the peel and the cinnamon stick. Simmer for 10 minutes, then slowly pour the hot milk into the cornflour mixture. Return to a clean saucepan over a low heat and stir constantly until the custard bubbles.

Peel, seed and quarter the quince, rubbing with lemon to prevent browning. Bring the sugar and water to the boil in a saucepan, then add the fruit and simmer for 10-15 minutes. Cool in the syrup, then remove the quarters and slice thinly. Arrange the quince slices in the bottom of four 6cm ramekins or shallow Spanish earthenware bowls. Strain the custard into a jug and divide the mixture between the ramekins. Cool until set.

While the custards cool, prepare the caramel. Put the remaining sugar, the Campari and water into a saucepan, and cook to a light caramel. Pour onto a piece of non-stick paper on a flat baking sheet and allow to set, then break the caramel into shards. Use a food processor to turn the pieces into coarse breadcrumbs. Sprinkle over the custards, then slide them under the grill and cook until golden brown.

Makes 4.