Is too much Brûlée ever enough?

Or, Why do I buy so many cookbooks?

Ok, so these are rhetorical questions, but I’ll give you the answers anyway. No; and because they’re there (and it’s safer than climbing Mt Everest). Actually answer number 2 could almost do for both really.

My new cookbook is Off Duty (Harper Collins, rrp AUD$49.95). It has a dual purpose: firstly it has buckets of gorge-isimous recipes penned by super chefs and is billed as what they cook on their down time. Not all the super chefs, mind, but a fair swatch of them, and even Aussies Neil Perry and Matt Moran get a guernsey. Which also makes me wonder what a collective noun might be for chefs (you know, like a flock of sheep, or a murder of crows, or a sulk of Goths). It can’t be a soupçon, not big enough. An enmity of chefs? A volatility of chefs? An invective of chefs? A bouillon of chefs? Maybe you can help me out here in the comments section and give me your ideas.

Secondly, the profits go to a good cause. The editing chef’s son sustained a paralysing spinal injury diving into the surf at Bondi, here in Sydney, while he was on his gap year between school and Uni. So David Nicholls from the Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park London (blimey, nice looking pub to stay at) set up a foundation to fund spinal research and injury rehabilitation. That’s where the profits go. You can eat well, feel good about it, enthral your friends, and help someone all at the same time. Not often you get a chance like that! Also, it’s probably as close as you’re going to get to Gordon Ramsay making you breakfast on Sunday. Unless you’re Mrs Ramsay or a little Ramsay.

But back to my musings. When you see a recipe for Honey, Drambuie and Whisky Crème Brûlée, you have automatically answered that original perplexing question. No contest. You must have it.

110g clear acacia honey
9 egg yolks
75g caster sugar
2 tablespoons of Irish Whisky
6 tablespoons of Drambuie
600 mls pouring or thickened cream (35% milk fat)

Extra sugar for the caramel top

As you would know from other posts about this wonderful dessert genre, I prefer a stove cooked custard, as you would do for a classic Anglaise, rather than a baked job, so I have (of course) altered the method from what’s in the book. Which brings me back to question number 2 – Why, if I don’t bother to follow the instructions, do I etc… ). Whatever.

Mix together the sugar, honey, egg yolks, whisky, and drambuie and combine (if it’s a really cold day you might need to warm the honey a little). Scald the cream and pour, whisking constantly into the egg mixture. Pour through a sieve and return to the stove and whisk until thickened. Cool, whisking occasionally so it doesn’t split or form a skin. Pour into cups or ramekins and refrigerate over night, brûlée the tops and hey presto. This produces an amazingly rich dessert full of warm honey and aromatic alcohol – I actually used it as a pre-dessert and served it in little espresso cups. Went down a treat. But I promise - no more brûlée recipes for a while - honest - unless I find somehting even MORE tempting :)