Food photography at the Irish Embassy with Alastair Hendy

Lovely party in the beautiful ballroom at the Irish Embassy in London, a house which used to belong to the Guinness family ...


























A group of bloggers was given a masterclass in food styling and photography by Alastair Hendy - author, chef, photographer, stylist (he doesn't seem to have a website so sadly I can't give you a link to his wonderful photographs).

Here's Alastair's "holy trinity" of things to think about: the look (ie the styling), the light (which will make or break any photo), and the lens (seduction by depth of field and point of focus). Suddenly I'm looking at Alastair's images in a different way.




















After Alastair's talk, we were given a chance to take pictures. Alastair provided the props, and the food was provided by BordBia, the Irish food board. Lovely produce, in four groups - seafood, cheeses, puds, booze.

Alistair takes all his pictures in natural light, avoiding bright sunlight, and never using flash. So you'll see bloggers working by the window, and using reflectors - not expensive camera shop reflectors, but ones made of cardboard and cooking foil.











































This picture was taken at some distance from the window, with a foil reflector to one side (similar to what's going on in the one above). Even before we get on to the question of artistic merit, it's no good - I didn't spot the creases in the tablecloth. It's an illustration of what, for me, was the main photographic lesson of the evening: the camera sees things differently to the way we see them, so images need to be planned, not casually snapped.



















The photograph below of black pudding appetizers with samphire sums up, for me, everything that is good about Irish food: wonderful livestock, great seafood, abundant oats. Mixed farming, in other words - something we have largely forgotten about on this side of the Irish Sea.

Shocking to hear from the Ambassador how far adrift UK food production has got from reality: Eire is 666% self-sufficient in beef production, whereas the United Kingdom is a net importer of beef. It's not just Ireland that has the longest grass-growing season in the northern hemisphere - but here, in the United Kingdom, we've sidelined grass production, and that hasn't done us any good, either as individuals, or as an increasingly broke nation.




















Amongst the other bloggers there were:

CookSister, Eat Like a Girl, Feast with Bron, Extra Relish, The London Foodie, Kavey Eats, 5amFoodie


PS most surprising photography tip of the evening: travelling food photographers should always take a damp cloth in a bag ... and within moments of starting work on our own pictures, what did we all need? yup, that's right

A cold day - let's read some recipe books while the going's good

There's a deep frost here - the Mahonia has given up scenting the garden, which those yellow flower buds normally do pretty effectively in the weak winter sunshine. I'm planning to stay indoors as much as possible, and read Laurie Colwin's Home Cooking, a very ace Christmas present. And perhaps do a little more cooking from Fergus Henderson's Nose to Tail. And trying not to get the cough which has been plaguing this house for a week or more.

Cruchade

It snowed last night. Wet snow, the sort that doesn't usually settle, especially in Oxfordshire in October. I don't ever remember snow here in autumn, although someone said that the last time it happened was 38 years ago, so I probably should. Didn't think it would still be on the ground this morning, but it was: frozen and crunchy underfoot in the bright dripping sunshine.























The book I am reading tempted me to linger a little under the duvet ... The Rose Grower, by Michelle de Kretser, an almost poetic evocation of life and love during the French revolution. With roses. And food.

It was in December, thinks Saint-Pierre, two or three days before Christmas. He remembers opening a window and the way a line of snow collapsed inwards, onto the ledge; but that might have been on another occasion. He had stood on one foot beside his grandmother, leaning against this very table, and she showed him how to make cruchade. Half a century later, he still finds himself craving its warm, sweet blandness.

His older daughters wrinkle their noses at it, but his grandson loves cruchade and Mathilde is not altogether immune. A dish for children and old men. A winter dish, unsuited to high summer. But Berthe would of course have served it at dinner, if he'd asked. He didn't, for three reasons: he takes pleasure in preparing it himself; he believes his version superior to Berthe's; he doesn't want to have to share.

The mixture of maize flour, milk and a little butter has cooked slowly, thickening to the right consistency. He turns it out onto a linen cloth and blows on it, willing it to cool faster.

The night house sighs and shifts. Then settles itself, groaning. Through the kitchen window he can see a lopsided white moon.

... There is no armagnac to be found, so Saint-Pierre pours out a glass of Berthe's plum brandy. He can't resist breaking off a corner of the solidifying cruchade. His eyebrows twitch in anticipation.

... So Saint-Pierre can't lay his hands on any sugar - really, where does Berthe squirrel these things away? - but a pot of her apricot jam from the previous summer will do just as well. In fact, he prefers jam. With the point of a knife, he draws a diamond grid on the surface of the cruchade; then he cuts along the lines.

... He begins frying. The butter sizzles .. Saint-Pierre is wielding a slotted spoon, lifting the golden-yellow diamonds onto a plate .. a thick layer of apricot jam is spread on the cruchade.

"It's an old regional dish." Saint-Pierre holds out the plate. "Not to everyone's taste," he says hopefully. "Try a small piece."

"Delicious."

Saint-Pierre sighs.

Cruchade is said to be a Gascon treat, but I can't find any trace of it on the web or in a book, not even in Elizabeth David or the magisterial Oxford Companion to Food. It sounds like a variation of polenta - worth trying if you have a sweet tooth.


I'm sending this post to The Food Quote Challenge at a new-ish blog called Almond and the Hazelnut .... the idea is to post food writing from a non-food book - Yasmin announced this challenge a couple of days ago, and then this passage from The Rose Grower shouted out at me. The deadline for the food quote challenge is November 25th. And if anyone knows any more about cruchade, I'd love to hear from them.

A public bread oven

When I was in Essaouira on the coast of Morocco a few years ago, I saw women bringing their tagines to cook in the neighbourhood wood-fired oven. Yesterday, I saw a lovely 14th century English communal oven at Corbridge, last used in the 19th century. Perhaps, now that we are suddenly mindful of the need for fuel economy, it's an idea we could usefully revive? How wonderful if this one were restored to use ....

Two views of the River Tyne

Dodging the showers, I've had a busy day ... Corbridge first thing, then on to Langley to visit the Garden Station, then to Wallington - knock-out - and back to Hallgarth Manor through the centre of Newcastle.


















These photographs were each taken from a bridge: top, from the Gateshead Millennium Bridge (looking towards Stephenson's High Level Bridge and the Tyne Bridge); bottom, from the 17th century bridge at Corbridge.

A gibbous moon

I'm not sure what a gibbous moon actually is, but my Google phases of the moon widget tells me that this moon is gibbous. Until a few moments ago, I thought that any full red moon was a harvest moon, but Wikipaedia tells me that a harvest moon occurs only in September.

Whatever, it's utterly beautiful, the wonderful red colour I associate with lunar eclipse .. it stopped me dead in my tracks last night as I was about to go to bed. I just wish I was a better photographer.

After the rain

In our garden now.

Snakeshead fritillaries

The snakeshead fritillary is the county flower of Oxfordshire, and this is its moment. You'll find it in damp ground, particularly in the water meadows of Oxford - those lovely wild places in the busy city centre, where, apart from the occasional wail of a nearby siren, you can imagine yourself far from modern life.

A few years ago, I planted three snakeshead fritillaries here. Now there are many more, dotted about, none of them where I put the original three. We went out in the drizzle on Sunday evening to look for them - the children were just giving up on what was clearly a maternal fantasy, when I found one, right outside my study window, in amongst the flame orange Ballerina tulips.

These photographs were taken yesterday in the Wild Garden at Trinity College.

A visit to Hungerford

Yesterday, I took Alfred to Marlborough for cricket pre-season training. On the way home, I went for a walk by the Kennet & Avon canal at Hungerford ...

The view from my kitchen window this morning ...

World blog day

Today is the 3rd world blog day. Even though I've been blogging long enough to have participated in the previous two, I only came across it today. The idea is that you introduce five new blogs, preferably crossing boundaries.

Here are some of my favourites, all worth a look:

Dean at Mostly Macro takes wonderful photographs of birds, insects and sometimes plants. His blog is a record of the wildlife he sees close to home, often in his own garden or on walks nearby. He is knowledgeable, and has opened my eyes to a world undreamed of - a world in which we can all share, because it's around all of us, if only we have eyes to see.

Venice Daily Photo is another blog I love, although sadly at the moment it's not so frequent. It's part of the daily photo movement of blogs, where people photograph their home town, however small or grand. The Venice photos are intelligent, interesting, quirky, often thought-provoking (the one of a huge liner overpowering the Giudecca canal springs to mind) ... above all, life-enhancing.

Pomiane is another blog I look forward to reading. Its author lives by two-week turns in London and near Pisa. The food is proper food, after the fashion of the French food writer Edouard Pomiane, and recipes are sometimes, but not always, given for the three course menu for "tonight's dinner" which often ends a post. Pomiane inspires you to do things properly - and I like the differences which occur from the change of venue.

Graham Rice is another blogger who moves from place to place. You may know his name as a gardening writer, sweet peas are his thing (I'm summoning up courage to ask for advice about why I have such little luck, but I suspect the answer is more digging). Transatlantic Plantsman describes his gardening life in Northamptonshire and Pennsylvania. He's really knowledgeable about plants, so it's always a joy to read, and there's often a tip about a garden to visit, or a plant to look out for. I also like the fact that he's made the leap from published author to blogger ;-)

I first came across Sue Cooks Wild when I met Sue in London. You should visit it just to see the wonderfully exuberant photograph on the masthead. It's great - full of life, some adventurous cooking (game and fish are recurrent interests), a bit of travel. Sue's sense of fun comes shining off the screen.