Ómós Digest #162: A bloody good chocolate pud
Written by Cúán Greene.
Hello,
For this week, I want to share a recipe and story about one of the first desserts I learned to make as a young trainee: a bloody good chocolate pud, also referred to as a molten chocolate fondant. The inspiration for the recipe comes from a recent trip to the beautiful Café Déco in London. The only adaptation from the original pud is that I focus on sourcing really good chocolate. I think it makes all the difference. This really is a foolproof recipe - it contains a ball of Bare bones chocolate ganache at its core that is near impossible to overcook. I hope you enjoy and let us know how you get on with the recipe in the comments section below - or tag us on Instagram with your creation.
Lastly, we’re designing both digital and physical Ómós Digest gift cards for you to give this Christmas. We’ll share information about these shortly.
Best,
Cúán and the Ómós team
A Bloody Good Chocolate Pud
I had a solitary meal in London last week. It was one of the most restorative lunches I’ve ever had. Located on the idyllic Store Street, lined with deciduous trees, quaint boutiques and coffee shops, sits Café Deco. From the first moment I stepped inside, I was transported away from life’s worries and utterly engrossed in the present. My eyes took in the 1930s Deco’ness that displayed a European café feel, with interiors leaving strong feelings of restaurant envy that continued right up to my last spoonful of steaming hot ginger pudding. Now seated, I took in the details – an Italian stainless steel bar manned by two charming waiters, who guarded a great selection of natural wine. The green-painted vernacular service bench did the heavy lifting. A patina of pastel-coloured tiles were spread across the floor, contrasted by a row of tables lined with starched-white table cloths, that elevated the room from an afternoon jambon-beurre and coffee kind of place to a space worthy of an elongated long lunch. At 12:15 I was the first guest to arrive. By 12:45 the room was full. There were solo diners like me and tables of glamorous ladies and eloquent gents impeccably dressed. Businessmen in pin-striped suits discussed the finer print while tucking into plates of pork rillette and leeks in vinaigrette. There were of course the informed tourists who had the inside scoop, wide-eyed and enthusiastic about each detail. Then, others entered, obliviously requesting coffee to-go, before being politely directed elsewhere... Settling into my meal I realised this was the first bit of time I had accorded to myself in weeks. I ordered a glass of wine, opened my book and felt completely at peace, amid London, nestled in the corner of a beautiful restaurant. This in itself was restorative therapy. Consequently, I've learned that I adore solo meals, especially when I have consciously prepared for one. There’s something completely luxurious and indulgent about them, whether you are having a single bowl of stew or the full 4 courses like I was. I love learning by eating and thus, almost always order game at this time of year when in a place where I feel it will be done right. So, after a plate of fried globe artichokes and anchovies, I opted for the partridge with braised chicory and sweet onions. The bitterly sweet braised vegetables cut through the richness of the barbecued dark meat of the small bird. Secondly, I was recommended the salted lamb as a heartwarming main. When the dish was presented I couldn’t help but laugh, as before me was a dish straight out of the Irish larder (albeit more typically done with ham at home). Slow cooked tender slices of lamb were accompanied by a thick parsley sauce, with whole boiled carrots and turnips and a light lamb broth, sourced from the cooking liquor. The chef had experimentally added capers which I liked. The dish was delicious and did the job in satisfying my hunger, but I did find it somewhat ironic that traditional Irish food was now perceived as ‘trendy’ in London’s coolest restaurants. I wonder if the emergence of Max Rocha’s Café Cecelia in Hackney had anything to do with it, or the rise to fame of the Irish rap artists Kneecap, or even the recent surge in popularity of Guinness in London’s sub-culture. But as the waiter declared, maybe it was just because the chef had returned from a trip to Co. Sligo.
I’m currently reading Between Two Waters by Pam Brunton. A fascinating book by a Scottish chef who questions how and what we eat. I've stayed and eaten at her restaurant and rooms, Inver, located north of Glasgow. The book was my perfect companion for this meal, read between and during courses; its pages carrying the memories of past and present meals by way of greasy fingers and absolutely zero regrets. Between Pam’s inspirational words - many of which attack the effects of capitalism, colonialism and governmental policies on the planet and our global food system - I people-watched and enjoyed experiencing the restaurant in full flow. By this point my stomach was telling me the end was nigh, however, a look at the dessert menu told me otherwise. I have a particular penchant for British desserts they commonly refer to as puddings. I find this kind of no-fuss, no garnish, white plate, steamed, baked, filled or iced demise to a meal a joy, slathered in cream, ice cream or custard, adorned with seasonal fruit and little else. There's a quiet confidence and elegance to these beige ‘puddings’; a juxtaposition considering their robust and heartwarming nature. I opt for the steamed ginger pudding, which was in fact what I consider ‘a pudding’, arriving piping hot on the plate, bathing in a pool of cold crème anglaise or thin custard. The pudding is incredibly hot, enriched with dark molasses and studded with spicy pieces of stem ginger throughout. It's a dessert my stomach had not needed, but my soul so gratefully appreciated. I have thought about the dessert ever since and it influenced me to bake chocolate fondants for friends last weekend. In the restaurant I would have cooked at circa 2011 in Dublin, we would have served the fondants with sliced fruits, raspberries and a big paint stroke of purée, artfully presented across a roof slate… But just like at Café Déco, where restraint is so well judged, when the ingredients are good and the company is great, a little cream and a good glass of wine are all this good pud requires.
I think it’s worth mentioning that my meal came to £110 or €132.46 including the service charge. I had bread and butter, four courses (of relatively affordable ingredients) and a glass of Greek Malvasia. For the food and beverage, it’s by all means not cheap. However, coupled with great hospitality, a wonderful environment and an atmosphere that feels a part of the social fabric, bringing people closer to a destination like London and closer to themselves, for me, that's true hospitality and it's worth its weight in gold.
A RECIPE FOR A BLOODY GOOD CHOCOLATE PUD
