Truffle Omelette

After the sumptuous dinner at The Harrow I was kindly given a couple of small truffles by the Trufflehounds to play with at home. I picked up half a dozen fresh eggs laid by my mother's hens in Dorset and packed them into a small tupperware box along with the pair of truffles hoping that magic things would happen to the flavour of the eggs before I turned them into an omelette. A couple of days later I took a sniff and was almost overwhelmed by the scent, or should I say fumes, reminiscent of shoemaker's glue. Others with me suggested petrol and ethanol. Not necessarily very appetising but certainly intriguing and somehow compelling (if not downright addictive).



After four days I sliced the truffles thinly, sweated them in butter and then poured in the seasoned beaten eggs to make a scrambled omelette which three of us ate straight from the pan.





The truffles had definitely perfumed the eggs (the inside surface of the shells was very aromatic) but that gluey, estery smell did not transmute the flavour; instead, the truffles were pleasantly nutty and slightly 'high' hinting at decay and earth, the eggs a lovely rich umami accompaniment.

Truffle & Ozzie Wine Fest at The Harrow in Little Bedwyn

I made the journey down the flooded, leaf-strewn narrow lanes of this beautiful and seemingly isolated (albeit M4-friendly) part of Wiltshire looking forward to a multi-course truffle dinner organised at The Harrow at Little Bedwyn.


I did wonder though if, yet again, I'd be underwhelmed by black truffles. I'd had them from the markets in Beaune and Carpentras before, I'd been on a forage in St. Bris le Vineux, I'd unearthed them in the Lubéron where I'd packed them into a box of fresh eggs and a tin of Arborio rice hoping that their supposedly magic olfactory properties would symbiotically transform any subsequent omelette or risotto I made from them. But it seemed to me that truffles were more about smell and less about taste.

Well, the dish on the bar of glistening black truffles that greeted us on arrival was certainly promisingly aromatic and I just hoped that the wafts of gamey, musky, fruity earthiness reaching our nostrils would not dissipate before chef-patron Roger Jones had managed to trap at least a little taste for our palates in the menu. The other challenge for the evening was to convince me that Australian wine goes with subtle, refined Michelin-star food without smothering it with over-extracted, rich ripe fruit, unsubtle vanillary new oak and too much alcohol. Sandro Mosele the winemaker at Kooyong Estate on the Mornington Peninsula south of Melbourne, Victoria was on hand to do the convincing with his wines by matching them to Roger's dishes.

Before attacking the first course we had some Taittinger Brut enlivened by deliciously fresh crab & cucumber bites (well, licks, as these were served on small spoons passed around on trays) and lightly smoked tiny chunks of salmon. We listened to the local farmer who has chanced upon what might be the most fecund patch of truffle-laden forest in Europe, if not the world. The past 4 years have yielded over a ton of commercially viable, worm-free, intact truffles. The whereabouts of this 10 acre chalky patch of mainly beech and hazel forest are necessarily kept secret but I have been invited to go and have a look as long as I am escorted there blindfolded.

The first course consisted of a large dim sum like dumpling of lobster in a light chicken broth scented, and slightly crunchy with nutty truffle.

This was an elegant and subtle foil for the very Burgundian Kooyong Estate Chardonnay 2004 though perhaps a richer and creamier lobster dish (bisque-style maybe) would have better matched the oakiness of this Chassagne Montrachet lookalike.

But then, we might not have been hungry for the next course of a stunningly ambrosial, rich, wild mushroom and truffle risotto where the slices of truffle were soft rather than crunchy and seemed to flavour the dish more convincingly than in the broth (perhaps with the helping hand of a drop of truffle oil added just before serving?). The even more Burgundian Kooyong Faultline Chardonnay 2004 was more than a match for this dish with its honeyed, creamy palate redolent of hazelnuts. Both chardonnays had great acidity like proper Burgundy from a classic vintage and price tags approaching Burgundy prices too (at £18.95 and £27 retail respectively) but, unlike Burgundy of a similar age, these wines are mature and perfectly formed right now. So, representing great value if carefully oaked, nutty, crisp Chardonnay with great length is your thing (if not, it should be!).

Next dish was a chunky pork & truffle terrine containing nuggets of moist pork, nutmeggy black pudding, foie gras, thinly sliced truffle and incredibly soft pork fat almost like lard; the whole was wrapped in hammy, English 'prosciutto'. The Kooyong Estate Pinot Noir 2006 (retail £19.95) was lean and mean like a young red Burgundy and French oak still dominated the nose. However, the wine opened up in the glass over time and the fruit started coming through. There was a puddle of beetroot purée under the terrine which echoed the wine's fruit but the two whites were at least as good with this dish with their pronounced, citrussy acidity going with the saltiness of the meat and cutting through the richness. I thought the pork in the terrine had been confit (salted then gently poached in fat) but apparently had been poached overnight in veal stock at 75°C. It was really succulent and I wonder why more terrines are not made like this.

The second Pinot Noir was Kooyong Ferrous 2004 (retail £27) which, with the advantage of 2 extra years ageing had a more open, evolved, almost gamey nose, with great fruit concentration on the palate, lowish tannin and a fair amount of acidity. A great, balanced Pinot Noir which blind could be taken for a well made Côte d'Or Burgundy. The grilled turbot it accompanied was crying out for the Faultline Chardonnay. I know that low tannin, high acid reds do go with fish; I just prefer white. Perhaps it's the lemony finish on the Chardonnays so good with fish that is missing from the Pinot Noirs. The fish had a wonderfully gelatinous consistency in the skin (even though it had been grilled) and firm flesh. It was in a truffley broth with a few tiny morels, some runny mash and peas. A great dish,the fish just lacking a little salt.

The 2 chardonnays left in my glass 1 hour later were still full of vitality and very long. Next wine was Kooyong Clonale Chardonnay 2007 (retail £13.95) which was a noticeable step down in concentration though very attractive; more Mâcon than Côte d'Or.

It could not match however the intensely anchovy Welsh Rarebit which really needed a glass of Fino Sherry (or Alvear Montilla, which The Harrow has on its comprehensive list).

Next wine was Kooyong Massale Pinot Noir 2008 (retail £14.95) which had lovely cherryish fruit, fine tannins, fresh acidity and a slightly bitter finish.

A delight on its own (or with a plate of charcuterie perhaps) but floored by the challenging pudding of blackberry crumble, blackberry jelly, and creamed cheese ice cream. To be fair, most whites, sweet included, would have clashed.

The outstanding ice cream was reminiscent of those served in the Basque country of Northern Spain; a cheesy, slightly sour and salty cream, great with the darkly acid fruit.

The service orchestrated by Sue Jones with her able manager Heather was smooth and smiley. The farmers, who call themselves the Trufflehounds, spoke eloquently about their truffle treasure find. Their truffles are available at Borough Market through The Wild Mushroom Company and at Truffle UK Ltd. Sandro the wine maker was tired after a marathon tour doing tastings all over the country but did explain that his aim was to make food-friendly wines from hand picked grapes from his own land and that the Mornington Peninsula with its relatively cool, atypically Australian maritime climate is perfect for making balanced, fresh wines from Chardonnay and Pinot Noir which have a sense of place. All quite novel in an Australian context.

Pierre Koffmann's Restaurant on the Roof at Selfridges

I never got to go to Pierre Koffmann's restaurant when it was open in the 1980's & 90's. I kept hearing and reading how good the food was but every time I tried to book the place was full.

I had to content myself with his book Memories of Gascony and imagine his food through eating at his ex-students' places like Marco Pierre White's Harvey's.

Then he sold up and fell off most people's radar screens. So when I heard he was back in town in a pop up restaurant I joined the queue on the phone to book a table without knowing what was going to be served, how much it was going to cost, and indeed, without knowing what Michelin star food would be like served in a tent on the roof of a department store.

On the whole I wasn't disappointed but perhaps slightly underwhelmed. Flavours were a little mute, service friendly but patchy, and the tent whilst being very light and airy had an irritatingly bouncy floor.

Perhaps my expectations were too high. And food in restaurants (and pubs and bars) is so much better these days than it was a decade or so ago, at least in London.

A pre-starter of langoustine bisque with a langoustine raviolo set the tone for a meal of high quality ingredients classically transformed into refined dishes which, by balancing richness and lightness, sometimes lacked impact.

I shared my £75 menu with Abi and my view of the rest of the meal follows in the next three blog posts:

Foie Gras & Snails

Trotter & Hare

Pistachio Soufflé & Walnut Tart

Pierre Koffmann's Foie Gras & Snails

Abi chose Pan Fried Foie Gras with a Potato Galatte (sic) and Sauternes Jus.


The liver was cut thickly, well seared but just done in the middle: perfect.


This was a refined, subtly flavoured piece of offal, perhaps from a goose rather than a duck?


The Galette was a crispy foil for the wobbly liver and the jus came with a couple of smears of bright green apple which tasted of rhubarb and gooseberry.

A surprisingly trendy foam was sprayed over the liver (or had a snail escaped from my plate and crawled over?)

The Fricassé (sic) of Wild Mushrooms and Snails with Bone Marrow was a small portion of tiny bits of mushroom not easily identifiable (shame when the markets are heaving now with ceps and girolles) with some curiously bland though pleasingly soft snails.


The star of the dish was sadly only 2 crostini (or should it be croûtes?) of bone marrow.


A whole dish of these would have been just the ticket.

Pierre Koffmann's Trotter & Hare

This is the iconic dish of Pierre Koffmann, 3 Michelin Star Chef of the 1980's & 90's. Looks revolting, doesn't it? The trotter looks, well, like a pig's trotter, or a peeled puppy lying on its front next to a quenelle of taramasalata. But, the trotter didn't taste doggy (well, I don't think dogs taste of pork) and the pink mash didn't taste fishy. Unappetising appearances aside, the dish was enjoyable though the mash of "Burgundy Potato" (whence the colour) could have been lighter, more buttery and less gloopy. It seemed to have been overworked (with a blender?). Marco Pierre White's homage version at the Hyde Park Hotel back in the early 90's was certainly better and relied on its smoothness by being pushed through a tammy strainer (twice) and containing a ratio of butter to potato of about 1:1 in true 3* Michelin fashion. This trotter was almost completely boned out and contained carefully cooked calf's sweetbreads and the odd tiny morel (adding a contrast of dark colour to the pallid glands rather than much flavour) all set in an eggy mousseline held by the wobbly pig skin.




The puddle in the plate was an (overly) sweet, sticky, old-school reduction. Minimal texture relief was provided by a thin disc of rolled crispy pig's belly.


In all, a good dish if you like plenty of soft, pillowy, marshmallowy sensations on the palate (but watch out for the toe bones).

An altogether more satisfying dish was the one chosen by Abi which was Royale de Lièvre with Buttered Taglietelle. The pasta alone was worth the journey and was silkily soft and, well, pasta-ry, and needed no accompaniment other than the butter. The hare came three ways with a meatloaf slice of confit hare with a nugget of foie gras in the centre, a faggot of shredded leg meat and offal, and a few slices of fried saddle.

The hare could have been gamier but this being a French restaurant the wow factor was provided by elaborate techniques used such as the long slow confit cooking of the meat to produce the succulent 'terrine' where the foie gras in the centre was perfectly cooked, the long slow braising of the leg meat for the faggot which had a tremendous, winey depth of flavour and even the long slow cooking of the almost caramelised, sweet carrots.

Pierre Koffmann's Pistachio Soufflé, Pistachio Ice Cream & Walnut Tart

This was the highlight of my lunch. A beautifully risen soufflé (how often do you see people eating soufflés these days?) with a scoop of ice cream plopped into the middle by the waitress.

The soufflé was very eggy and rich but deceptively light at the same time.

There were quite big flecks of egg white still visible implying the mix had not been overstirred thereby ensuring an airy lightness.

The chocolate dusting around the edge of the dish helped the soufflé climb out of the ramekin and made a pretty, and tasty, contrast to the pale green soufflé.

Walnut Tart was a generous serving of heavy looking pastry but again achieved that balance between rich and light.

Crisp pastry with caramelised walnuts set in a walnut liqueur-heady crème pâtissière which was light on the cornflour.

We did share a plate of cheese before the pud for a relatively reasonable sounding fiver supplement (often much more these days, even in pubs).

Disappointingly, the slivers of cheese (4 French, 1 Swiss) were ice cold. Evidently, not many people were ordering cheese to warrant it being kept out of the fridge. Shame.

But we needed it to finish off the rather acid, slightly overextracted Saumur Champigny '06 from Sébastien Bobinet.

Giant Lobster & Giant Wine

This giant 5 to 6 pound lobster was caught off the Suffolk coast near Orford and boiled in seawater and then served cold. It provided a feast of a starter for 6. It was probably 30 to 40 years old.

We did it justice with the giant bottle of white on the right... the briny lobster bringing out the intense minerality of this outstanding Meursault and the wine still so crisp and fresh at 17 years old slaking our resultant thirst.

(the reds went with steak by the way... but not any old steak: rib of beef aged for 38 days).  The host was Julian from Seckford Wines (hence the splendid line up in the picture).