Without a doubt, there is nothing as disappointing as a bad dessert. Particularly a post-dinner dessert, when you know it’s the last thing you will eat for the day and it has left you with a funny taste in your mouth and an overwhelming sense of a squandered opportunity for indulgence. Fortunately that didn’t happen yesterday (baking embargo still in place). But yesterday’s lunch experiment was still pretty disappointing. I had a simple recipe for cauliflower fritters that I have been keen to try ever since my mother (The Granny) made us a few batches of her amazingly silky cauliflower soup. Her soup had me all excited about cauliflower for the first time in a very long time. So, as the beloved was home for lunch and we had a whole morning of not much to do, I thought is was a perfect chance to give these fritters a go.
Basic enough, one big cauliflower, two eggs, a bit of flower and baking powder, a handful of chives, a bit of parsley and a pinch of powdered coriander. Cook the cauliflower florets in boiling salted water for 8-10 minutes, then process half and leave half in florets. Mix everything together, season and fry balls of the mixture over medium-high heat in some olive oil. Sprinkle with grated parmesan and serve.
Hmmm. Well, they weren’t awful. The beloved ate them uncomplainingly. They tasted like cauliflower and….nothing. They were like the black hole of fritters. All the other flavours disappeared. I should have known that the chives were a bit pointless. Am I the only person underwhelmed by chives? Pretty to look at, fun to chop over things in an artful way, but no oomph.
If, in the unlikely event of being lumbered with excess cauliflower, I was forced to make them again I would do the following: leave out the chives, heap in the parsley generously, grate in a good handful of gruyere cheese, season extra-heartily with salt and pepper and food-process all the cauliflower florets for a smoother mixture. Then I’d serve them with a spicy tomato chutney. If that sounds appealing to you, go for it and good luck! Or just don’t bother. Just go to your fridge, dig out last night’s leftover dinner and have that for lunch instead, followed by a juicy mandarine and a hot cup of lady grey tea.
On the up side, I only fried up half the mixture. The leftover half I gave to the feathered ladies, who lurrrrved it with a passion. Lola came squawking off her pile of stolen eggs, clucked down the ramp and gobbled up a whole pile of the stuff. So all was not lost.