A Long and Messy Business. Rowley Leigh

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      FAR BRETON, or CUSTARD CAKE WITH PRUNES

      A large cake that will feed ten, or be very acceptable when

      left around as a teatime snack.

      Place the prunes in a saucepan with the tea bag and cover

      with boiling water. Leave to stand for 20–30 minutes

      before removing the tea bag, bringing to a simmer, then

      allowing to cool in the liquid. Preheat the oven to 180°C

      (350°F, Gas Mark 4).

      Butter a deep pie dish of 28–30cm (11–12in) diameter, or

      a rectangular ovenproof dish about 20 x 30cm (8 x 12in),

      very well with the butter.

      Beat the flour and sugar in an electric mixer, continuing

      to beat as you pour in the milk to make a smooth batter.

      Beat the eggs in a separate bowl before adding them to

      the butter, followed by the vanilla and rum. Pour into the

      prepared dish. Drain the prunes and distribute them in the

      batter at even intervals.

      Bake in the oven, turning the oven temperature down

      to 150°C (300°F, Gas Mark 2) after 30 minutes. Cook for a

      further 30 minutes, or until set, which is best judged by

      giving the dish a little shake; a knife or skewer should

      emerge clean from the centre.

      Serve when completely cooled but not refrigerated.

      It needs no additions.

      Serves ten.

      WINE: Although not strictly necessary, most sweet wines

      will accompany the cake. A Quarts de Chaume or sweet

      Vouvray would be ideal.

      500g (1lb 2oz) stoned prunes

      1 black tea bag

      25g (1oz) unsalted butter

      300g (10½oz) plain flour

      150g (5½oz) golden caster

      sugar

      1 litre (13⁄4 pints) milk

      6 eggs

      A few drops vanilla extract

      2 tablespoons dark rum

      (optional but highly

      recommended)

      40

      Not Just Marmalade

      Seville Orange Tart

      A gentleman told me that he had cut out my recipe for

      pumpkin risotto from the Financial Times and was going

      to ‘do it soon’. People often tell me that they cut out my

      recipes for later use. It is very flattering, and it is

      comforting to think that in countless homes there are

      these scrapbooks crammed with greying (can pink ’uns

      grey?) or at least fading pieces of my culinary wisdom

      stored up, but with their instructions sadly not followed.

      I am not sure why, unless it is sheer inertia, some of

      these recipes languish uncooked. I always plan them to be

      seasonal, to the letter if possible. I didn’t have the heart to

      explain that the pumpkin risotto would have to wait for

      the autumn. Similarly, while I try to make these recipes

      as simple as possible, inevitably some can seem a bit

      complicated: I avoid deploying too many ingredients, but

      I’ll also admit I have never advocated the quick and easy

      for its own sake.

      This lengthy preamble serves as a warning. If you are

      to follow the recipe below – and it is not kindergarten

      simple – you have to act NOW. Seville oranges have a very

      short season. There are cooks who remember that it is time

      to make marmalade just after the season has finished.

      Those of you with a capacious freezer may, I suppose, buy

      yourselves some time, but your frozen Seville oranges will

      nag your conscience until the moment is seized.

      We in Britain are the only ones who really ‘get’ Seville

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