It is the friend of our gardener, who wants to help with housework. Oh, great, what perfect morning news. Anna (another one) is lively and shiny and just came from an unhappy meeting with her son's teacher. He is a son with a strong will, she tells me, while pulling up her proud shoulders. (I guess we know where he gets the will from...) Not easy to be a mom, without a man around. Another one, I think...Why can nobody stay together anymore?
I guess she needs this job urgently and I am happy to help out. Her English is perfect, so is her French.
WOW!
And me? My English is fine, but every other language has been reduced to vocal diarrhea these days. My brain is just not what it used to be. But I will - I promise - learn Portuguese... Soon our teacher will be back and I will sit down and learn!
I send Anna into Prince's room to do the awful job called ironing.
There ought to be an invention that irons alone. Common, we went to the moon (or so they say), we can talk with a 5000 km distance on a tiny device, we can watch mom put in her rollers on skype, but we still need to press hot irons on cotton shirts, just like it was done hundreds and hundreds of years ago?
I think the problem is, that inventors are mostly male, and since a male never has to iron(it is always the poor housewives, or if you are lucky and he is Italian or Greek - the mothers), the invention of an ironing machine is not on top of the MUST_INVENT_SOON_LIST. If those inventors would only understand the opportunities they would gain by inventing such machine! This lucky inventor would be THE man in the woman's world. He would be a god! A gift to the feminine. His name would be whispered and sang, poems and songs would be written just for him and women would follow his every step... like a star... he would shine forever and ever... Maybe some mad professor will one day read this cry of mine and the days of hot steam and ironing board (bored!) are over.
Anna does not seem to have the same phobia, but then, she is getting paid for it. She starts with a smile and slowly but steadily the wrinkled shirt mountain in Prince's room melts away. Oh, he will be sooo pleased!
I check my mail and got news from Igor, that amazing chef at the Oberoi.
Wow, that was fast. As promised he has send me the recipe for a cheese soufflé.
Prince and me have a cheese soufflé addiction, since our trip to the TAJ in Mumbai. There, at the Zodiac grill, the signature dish is a cheese souffle. What can I say, but this dish became our starter, our main and our dessert! 'Beyond heaven' it could be called. Light and fluffy, yet so creamily cheesy it was a revelation. But all our charms did not succeed in getting the secret recipe from the Maestro. He proudly told us, that it had taken him 1 year to master this creation. I believe it, but... isn't a secret a secret...to be told? Our quest to find a souffle as divine as the Zodiac's has yet to be accomplished.Let's see about Igor's way into soufflé joy:
Dear Aline
Greetings from the Oberoi Mauritius. I hope your flight ended well and was not too long.
As I promised, this his my recipe for a cheese souffle’:
Mascarpone cheese souffle’ pax 8
300 gr butter (a)
300 gr cake flour (b)
300 gr sugar ©
1 litre milk (d)
250 gr mascarpone (e)
16 egg yolk (f)
16 egg white (g)
Vanilla stick (h)
Lemon zest (i)
Put in a pot A plus B and let mix in the fire,in another pot put C plus D plus H plus I and let it boil.
Mix all together and let finish in the fire for at least 5 minutes.
Let cool down and when its almost cold put E and G and mix in a professional (planetaire) till the composte smooth.
G has to be emulsionate and very firm and then add G to the rest of the composte.
Put the composte into 8 Ramekins well-buttered and with sugar in the manner I told you.
Put in the oven at a temperature of 165 c for approximately 20 minute depending on the size of the ramekins.
The heat sould be turned to the the bottom of the oven.
enjoy
Bon appetit
Igor Bocchia
Executive Chef
I must admit I am not sure I understand all his words. But I will figure it out! Composte?
I know Igor loves gardening* too, so maybe it got muddled up there...
???
I checked the net and since Igor is Italian and French I think, composte must come from his original language:
from Old French composte, from Latin composita, compositum ‘something put together'
* I forgot to mention, that the Oberoi has its own vegetable, fruit and herb gardens. A brainchild of Chef Igor, the hotel has now a working farm, growing most its produce for the meals served.
When Igor arrived, apparently this was the first thing he changed in the philosophy of the Oberoi Mauritius. He took us on a green tour one day, proud and joyful, as if every plant was one of his babies. Isn't a wonderful gift, to watch your foods grow and then to cook and serve them? This is life at its very best, the way it was meant to be, perhaps?
I must admit I am not sure I understand all his words. But I will figure it out! Composte?
I know Igor loves gardening* too, so maybe it got muddled up there...
???
I checked the net and since Igor is Italian and French I think, composte must come from his original language:
from Old French composte, from Latin composita, compositum ‘something put together'
* I forgot to mention, that the Oberoi has its own vegetable, fruit and herb gardens. A brainchild of Chef Igor, the hotel has now a working farm, growing most its produce for the meals served.
When Igor arrived, apparently this was the first thing he changed in the philosophy of the Oberoi Mauritius. He took us on a green tour one day, proud and joyful, as if every plant was one of his babies. Isn't a wonderful gift, to watch your foods grow and then to cook and serve them? This is life at its very best, the way it was meant to be, perhaps?
I am excited!!! I must go at once to get the mascarpone, and the eggs and the milk... It is time to go shopping anyway, since our fridge is resembling not much more, than a black, humid and cold hole.
A picture I can stand as much, as a sweaty Tank-Top (I love Beer) wearing belly next to my white linen breakfast table.
A picture I can stand as much, as a sweaty Tank-Top (I love Beer) wearing belly next to my white linen breakfast table.
Anna is not finished, but she promises to return Friday and so we both leave.
El Corte Ingles, my favorite supermarket is a dream for food lovers. Here I come, with all my baskets ready to be filled.
They just have anything and everything. If French cheese, Greek yogurt or German bread is on your wish-list of the day, Corte will have it and if not, they might even order it for you. It makes it so easy for hobby chefs. Just get the recipe, get the ingredients (without ordering from the net and waiting weeks just to receive some crumbled, 'body-searched' mess) unload at the kitchen counter and start cooking!
There is a huge vegetable and fruit section, most goods from Portugal or the Azores (Portuguese islands), but I prefer to buy my greens and colors at the local market. Same for the seafood. The fish-market in Sintra, with the loveliest fish-seller couple, is glorious and fresh and not at all fishy.
Today I am looking for mascarpone and it is the only day, that they have run out of it. Amanhã (tomorrow) smiles the blue eyed boy and there I am again, mesmerized by a set of azure ponds... Some Portuguese have just dazzling eyes. Especially the blue ones. They are so incredibly blue, that sometimes I seem to drown in them. But the most stunning difference to let's say my own blue, is a dark circle just around the iris, as if to enhance the sapphire appearance even more. Fascinating... and of course - they always shine, as if there is a magic lantern just behind those eyes. Happiness, 'contentness', kindness...Those Portuguese have not lost it yet... I don't know how long I am staring at the boy, maybe he thinks I am crazy, or just a weird tourist not understanding his language. I pull myself away from the sapphire fire, No MASCARPONE. Not meant to be. Maybe the Zodiak chef has put a spell on the soufflé making! He knows when he smells real competition, I am sure... But be warned, Great Soufflé Master, I will be back and I will conquer the secret!
Prince calls to let me know, that we will join the business man for dinner.
That solves the Soufflé problem. No costumers anyhow...
Stocking up on the every day needs, I also do some browsing in the red wine section. So many wines in Portugal. And so many excellent ones, only I am still a virgin in this territory and know pretty close to nothing(NADA) about them. But this also, can be learned. Life is after all a never-ending school, and once we move on to the next journey we still know so little. But I do believe, that every even so little thing we learn, is like a supply for the next voyage. It is like packing our rucksack to get us true the adventure to come. I decide on a 2005 Borba (one I remember from a fabulous dinner, safe bet) with a distinguished cork wine label. I love the label! I am such an image junkie and so easily fooled. If the label looks good to me, it must be good. But trust me, this philosophy could not be more wrong. So don't be fooled like me... better way to navigate around unknown wines - choose the ones with a glossy stamp saying: Gold medal winner or silver leaf champion or something of that sort, as long either of those 3 colors: gold-silver-bronze are mentioned, you should be doing well.Back at home I get Prince to unload my bottle car. (wine for me, coke zero and whisky for him)
The dogs are hungry too, so time to feed the little rascals. No home-cooking for them tonight, sorry. Just dry food. But they munch it just as fast as the chicken-pasta-carrot dish I usually prepare for them.
Dogs are no connoisseurs, did I just figured that now?
Around 8 the rain starts again and we drive off into the night, to collect a visiting businessman from the Setais. Magically lid by fairy-lights, the fog just moving in, it is a place of indescribable splendor and glory. Another world, which never fails to touch me, to inspire me, to fill me. Beauty, I live for you!
Even Einstein fed on this blessed power: The ideals which have lighted me on my way and time after time given me new courage to face life cheerfully, have been Truth, Goodness, and Beauty. . . .
One of our favorite eateries, the 'white' restaurant in the charming village of St. Pedro (we still don't know it's name, but we do know that the food is absolutely divine and so is the service and the wine..) is closed, so we end up in another cozy place, our table right next to the fire could not have been any more perfect. Chateau Briand tickles Prince's and my fancy and the business man goes for some traditional (strange) dish made with pork and shrimp. The wine, POLI PHONI (many voices) named in GREEK, which is odd, as we are in Portugal, is pretty good, but nothing great.
The evening is merry and easy, but I am feeling very tired and have some difficulties in following the discussions. There is some story about crossing the Atlantic in a leaking sailing boat and the crew has to scoop water nonstop. Scary stuff!
Time to go home...
Good night
PS: It is the last night the Christmas lights will be on in Sintra***
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