A luxurious taste of Christmas

I can hardly believe how quickly the year has flown by – Christmas is upon us yet again. I'm doing some final preparations before this year's gastronomic extravaganza kicks off at the weekend and I've been reminded of some highlights from last year.

My brother celebrated his 40th early in 2010 and a couple of years earlier at The Sampler in Islington I laid my hands on some claret from his birth year. He generously decided to share it with us all at Christmas, bless him. I thought it would be fun to partner it with another claret – a comparatively youthful 1990 (although maturing nicely). A traditional, if rather cerebral choice for the turkey, but absolutely delicious – both freshly structured and beguilingly complex – and an interesting contrast to the fuller, spicier wines we often have at Christmas. Southern Rhône being a particular favourite (which we'll be having this year). The clarets topped the bill after an apéritif of ever-elegant Pol Roger, and a gently aromatic, dry Gewürztraminer from Blanck was perfect with our starter of smoked fish. We concluded with some PX – practically Christmas pudding in a bottle. Heady stuff.

Something that featured in last year's dinner was this magnificent and totally decadent stuffing. It's a recipe by Heston Blumenthal from Waitrose Kitchen magazine that includes chestnuts, cranberries, caraway seeds and brandy, sliced and fried in black butter before serving. This year I'll be preparing it in advance to take to my parents' whose turn it is to host and it'll be enjoyed alongside my (late) great-aunt's lemon and herb stuffing. Even if you're having goose, poulet fermier, a turkey crown or smaller game birds for your festive feast, this will make a memorable 'trimming'. A truly luxurious taste of Christmas.

Cranberry and caraway stuffing
Serves 6
280g unsalted butter
7 slices white bread, crusts removed
50g dried breadcrumbs
1 onion, chopped
2 celery stalks, diced
1 tbsp groundnut oil
200g sausagemeat
60g cooked chestnuts, chopped
60g dried cranberries
8 sage leaves, finely chopped
15g parsley, finely chopped
1 tbsp caraway seeds
140ml brandy
100ml chicken stock
1 egg, beaten

Preheat the oven to 180°C, Gas Mark 4. Melt 250g butter in a saucepan and heat gently until it goes brown and smells nutty, then strain through a fine sieve. Set aside 175g of the strained butter.

Dice the bread slices and combine with the breadcrumbs in a large bowl.

In a small frying pan, melt 15g butter; add the onion and cook on a low heat until soft. Add the celery and remaining 15g butter and cook for 10 minutes, then add the bread mixture.

In a separate pan over a high heat cook the sausage meat in the groundnut oil until browned, breaking it into evenly sized pieces as you go. Add this to the stuffing with the chestnuts, cranberries, sage, parsley and caraway seeds, then return the pan to the heat. Pour in the brandy and boil vigorously for 1 minute so the alcohol evaporates. Scrape up any bits from the bottom of the pan.

Combine 125g of the brown butter with the chicken stock and mix with the stuffing. Season with salt.

Stir through the beaten egg (the mixture should be very moist) and spread on to a parchment-lined baking tray so that it is 1.5cm deep.

Cook in the oven for about 20 minutes, then remove and set aside until ready to serve (this can be made the day before).

Slice the stuffing into rectangles, about 5cm x 7cm. Fry in batches, using 1tbsp of the remaining brown butter for each batch, until golden all over.

Dinner by Heston Blumenthal

It's been just over a month since our meal at Dinner and since then I've enjoyed observing (especially on Twitter) what a magnet this restaurant has become, but also how very much people seem to enjoy it. It seems to be a rare example of somewhere living up to the hype. I found it easy to make the booking online (albeit for 9.30pm), but I did make an effort to do this just before the key reviews came out. A number of years ago I ate at the Fat Duck (loved the bacon and egg ice cream) and at the Riverside Brasserie in Bray Marina (another Heston project in the early Noughties and where I first had his triple cooked chips), but I haven't made it to the Hind's Head. I was, of course, absolutely delighted to hear that Britain's most exciting chef was opening a restaurant in London, headed by Ashley Palmer-Watts, allowing us to enjoying his food without trekking out to Berkshire.

Trying to keep the excitement levels under control, we arrived at the restaurant on a buzzy Friday evening and were struck by the calm, friendly welcome. We were steered to the bar where we ordered glasses of Grüner Veltliner before almost immediately being shown to our table. Having done my homework, I had a good idea of what I wanted to order. My husband was happy to go along with these choices, so we ordered the already fabled Meat Fruit and Broth of Lamb for starters. Our main courses were Black Foot Pork Chop and Sirloin of Black Angus, with a side dish of buttered carrots with caraway. Tipsy Cake and Brown Bread Ice Cream were what we settled on for dessert.

As much as we'd have loved to spoil ourselves, we selected a good value bottle of Côtes du Rhône 2008 from Roger Sabon to go with the main courses and inquired about something to partner the Meat Fruit as we still had some Grüner left. A glass of Vouvray les Argiles 2009 by Chidaine was suggested which turned out to be a bit too dry and mineral for the dish, despite its elegance and verve.

As the food is served, you realise how the deceptive the menu is, almost to the point of being dead-pan. There is also a lot of tantalising historical information about the dishes and the original source materials, with practically a bibliography on the reverse of the menu. We've kept ours as it is fascinating.

The Meat Fruit (c 1500, mandarin, chicken liver parfait and grilled bread) is a remarkable dish. Slice into this 'mandarin' and the rich, satiny parfait is revealed beneath a fine orange flavoured jelly. So clever. The sourdough toast that accompanied it was perfect. Fabulous.

My husband's Broth of Lamb (c 1730, slow cooked hen's egg, celery, radish, turnip and sweetbreads) was a revelation.

I find myself using descriptions I'd otherwise use for fine wine for this dish. On the palate it was light, subtle and quite springlike, with fresh, lifted flavours, especially of the celery and radish. However, on the finish (once you'd swallowed) the flavour of the broth itself took over – long and complex, with a delicious savoury intensity that went on and on. The textures were amazing: there were small deep-fried breaded nuggets of sweetbread and a slow-cooked egg, decadently gelatinous, as well as the crunchy vegetables. We asked how long the egg had been cooked for – one hour at 61°C in the broth, apparently. It was wonderful.

When main courses were served (which we were planning on sharing), the Black Foot Pork Chop (c 1860, pointy cabbage, Robert sauce) was placed in front of my husband and I had the Sirloin of Black Angus (c 1830, mushroom ketchup, red wine jus and triple cooked chips).

My husband was bowled over by the chop (my preference, if I'm honest) and I thought the sirloin was another remarkable, deeply satisfying dish and absolutely packed with flavour. Indeed, too much flavour (especially the powerful mushroom ketchup and the red wine jus) to be able to taste the chop properly. High praise, though, from hubby who described it one of the best dishes he'd ever eaten.

However, the sirloin was a dream-come-true for meat lovers, as it was finished off with three pieces of bone marrow, topped with toasted crumbs. Another amazing combination of flavours and textures. Even the carrots were spectacularly good, beautifully scented with caraway and the chips were, of course, superb. By this point we both felt that this was jaw-droppingly good food (although I wish I'd tasted the chop before the steak). The Côtes du Rhône stood up admirably to this onslaught – its vibrant, youthful spicy fruit, complex underlying minerality and sleek, supple tannins ideal for our hunks of meat.

We moved on to desserts – Tipsy Cake (c 1810, spit roast pineapple) and Brown Bread Ice Cream (c 1830, salted butter caramel, malted yeast syrup). We'd already caught site of the pineapples twirling sedately on the magnificent spit in the kitchen, with spiral grooves cut into them, looking like something from a grand country house kitchen. The result was delicious – luscious, juicy fruit with a dark caramelised exterior. The cake was a bit baba-like, but with a tighter texture. It had a crunchy sugar coating and was doused with boozy light caramel sauce. Overall, the dish was beautifully balanced – the richness firmly kept in check by the pineapple's acidity.

The Brown Bread Ice Cream was yet another unexpectedly good dish that seemed to comprise of caramel in different forms. The ice cream sat on a fudgy base, with chewy chunks of salted caramel (with a savoury complexity), crunchy pieces of toasted oatmeal and little pieces of diced apple. Again, exciting flavours and textures were conjured up using surprisingly commonplace ingredients. This was cooking of the highest order.

We shared a glass of Szamarodni Tokaj 2006 by Szepsy (the sommelier's recommendation – she explained that she used to work at Nobu in Budapest). This complimented both desserts nicely, although we'd have been just as happy with the much less extravagantly priced Pacherenc du Vic Bilh by Brumont.

We had a little 'freebie' of white chocolate ganache with a caraway biscuit for dunking. The Tokaj was particularly good with this and helped stand up to what was pretty much fudge in a cup, like dulce de leche. I found it a bit too rich at this point in the evening (but still managed to polish it off).

It was an extraordinarily good meal, fairly priced given the quality, at about £100 per head (though watch those wines!). The restaurant felt relaxed and well in its stride and not at all self-conscious. Highly recommended.

Dinner by Heston Blumenthal
Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park
66 Knightsbridge
London SW1X 7LA
Tel 020 7201 3833
http://www.dinnerbyheston.com/