The Original Food Giant Slayer Identified, and a quiche to make your wildest dreams come true.

So long as you remember the ring.

Hello and welcome to the Downsizing Diva.

This week I have exciting news about the identification of the original Food-Giant-Slayer – and his agreement* to become the founding president of the Society of Food Giant Slayers. And there’s an unfortunate glimpse of my opinions about a tree which has decided to block my view.

*Agreement is for illustration purposes only.

This week’s recipe – a crustless caramelised onion quiche – is another candidate for your picnics, but would also be an excellent choice if you’re planning to propose to a gluten-free vegetarian and want to be sure of a positive response.

N.b. Not one for fainthearted arteries.

But before I get going on this week’s post, a word about electric cars: a lot of people have been put off the whole idea by my piece about renting an EV, and I want to make clear that owning one is a different matter entirely – I drive to Italy in an EV several times a year with little hassle. So partly to give people more info about how to go about it without the need for a nervous breakdown, and to indulge my hyper-nerdiness on the subject – and so all the people who consider me BORING about it can have this confirmed,* I am planning a sub-substack called ‘Life on the Electric Road’.

*Or eat their words, on which they will be allowed no salt. Unless they first do a pilgrimage, barefoot and on their knees, to somewhere a very long way away.

The Original Food Giant Slayer

Today it's the start of the Wimbledon finals, and marvellous though Lawn Tennis is, the world would be in a much better place if its founder’s other great passion had also become such global success: never mind developing exciting ways of chasing a ball round a bit of grass, Walter Clopton Wingfield was a leading authority on epicurean matters and devoted much of his life to improving the nation’s food.

He founded a gourmet society – the Cordon Rouge – to raise culinary standards and hand out medals to people he thought were really pulling their finger out – outstanding chefs (of both sexes), doctors doing good things for digestion, and creators of fine food. And as vice president of the Universal Cookery and Food Association he worked to establish cooking schools – which he insisted must be open to boys and girls – to improve culinary standards, and provide employment that didn’t involve 16-hour days in a factory.

He was the original Food-Giant Slayer.*

And he was my great great uncle.

And as I’m quite sure he would like to get involved in my mission to rid the world of marauding food-manglers, I have posthumously made him Founding President of the Society of Food Giant Slayers.

No, it doesn’t yet exist, but he’s dead so unlikely to make a fuss.

N.b. Should you wish to join this august body, upgrading your subscription is currently half price. It may not turn you into a Wimbledon finalist, but it would make me very happy.

*Yes, I know that Nestlé (and all the rest) were only just starting their reign of obesification or ‘150 years of expertise in nutrition, health and wellness’ as their website likes to put it, but there have always been people around who want to suck the nutrition out of food and replace it with sawdust and chemicals in the name of profit. But in those days, people went to prison for it, not asked to chair a Food Standards agency.

Imagine if they had been stopped in their tracks back then: obesity would be a rarity, the world wouldn’t be full of people who daren’t go out unless they know exactly where the nearest toilet is, and the NHS would be at a loss as to how to spend all of its funding.

Great Uncle Walter would definitely have approved of the small band who marched through London on Sunday in the name of fighting Fake Food, organised by Ros Rathouse of The Cookery School London. The number was small, but it contained Sheila Dillon – I had no idea she had a human embodiment outside Radio Four’s Food Program ( I assume Dan Saladino walks the earth covered in French dressing) – and the wonderful Elisabeth Luard – brandishing a wooden spoon – so it was a very select small number.

Trees in the way

Last year, when we were in the Euros final, the Shard was lit up with the England flag. This year it’s the women’s turn, and I should be hoping that they will make the final too. However, I used to have a fantastic, uninterrupted view of the Shard:

Fantastic view of the Shard

But this year a dirty great tree is blocking it.

Dirty great tree

And those people you read about in the news who cut down some beautiful and ancient tree because it blocks their view – well right now I would like to be one of them. It’s not a good look for someone who’s been eco-warrior-ing since 1987, so please don’t tell anyone.

The galling thing is that it only needs a little trim, and the council has trimmed all the other trees. Am sending chain-saw thoughts to the council’s tree department, but no joy so far.

They could just move it a few feet to the left; I have no objection to it blocking someone else’s view, and that would be easier than getting the Shard moved to the right.

The Diva is accusing me of being egocentric; I even heard her using the word nimby. Which is ridiculous; I don’t even have a back yard.

I probably don’t need to worry too much about missing the England flag emblazoned on the top of it – England doesn’t reach the final very often – although the women are better at it than the men* – not least because raising a nation on fake food doesn’t help with growing muscle and bone density and healthy lungs, so it limits the pool of top players you have to choose from — and for the national team, you can’t import any from better-fed parts of the world.

I’d like to think that elite athletes would treat their bodies as temples that they only fill with the freshest and healthiest produce, but last year a chef-mate had a gig cooking for, amongst others, a top football team. He filled the table with delectable and healthy things to eat (I’m making this bit up, I wasn’t there, but he’s good at delectable and healthy), and everybody tucked in with gusto, apart from the footballers who sent out for Macdonald’s.

*This is prejudiced nonsense: England men’s team have played in 11 finals, but never won; the Lionesses have only made 3 finals, but they won one of them.

Crownless Quiche Royale

This crustless quiche was originally created at the time of the coronation.

The Diva did not handle the coronation well. It was bad enough that the crown would be a lot bigger than her tiara, but the official coronation dish was the last straw – she wasn't even asked for a recipe, and I was pretty fed up with her marching round the house saying, ‘broad bean quiche, pah', and, 'I'll give him lard’.

But finally she calmed down a bit and announced that she had created a special dish for Princess Anne – ‘because she’s not getting a crown, even though she’s marvellous’.

And she has done her proud: it’s sensationally delicious – caramelised onions, parmesan, a great deal of cream. No pastry. Or broad beans. If the king ever finds out, he’ll feel very hard done by.

I did point out that even without the pastry (half the calories, half the carbs … and less than half the faff), it’s not exactly downsizing, and with all that cream and butter it’s not a top health food. But the Diva wouldn’t budge: said that the Princess Royal was an Olympic rider and a National Hunt Jockey, and must have spent half her life keeping her weight down, so she deserved a day off.

Crownless Quiche Royale

Serves 4

• 50g butter

• 4 red onions

• 3 free-range eggs

• 250ml cream

• 30 – 40g parmesan

• A few sprigs of thyme

• A good grating of nutmeg

• Salt and pepper

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1. Preheat the oven 160º / 150º fan / gas mark 4.

2. Slice onions thinly, from front to back – with the rings, not across them; put them in a large bowl, add a good pinch of salt, and mix well.

3. Melt the butter till foaming in a heavy-bottomed saucepan and add onions.

4. Cook them on a medium heat for a few minutes – until they start to sizzle and release their juices, then turn the heat down and cook for at least 20 minutes – 10 with the lid on and 10 with the lid off. Check and stir often. Then turn the heat up a bit and cook till they change from blurry to glistening. There is a moment when this happens, so watch carefully, as you don’t want them to burn.

5. Grate the cheese. Use a microplane grater. Anything else just wastes your life and destroys your knuckles.

6. Make the custard – whisk the three eggs very well and stir in the cream.

7. Add most of the cheese, leaving a bit to sprinkle on the top. Use less cheese rather than more. Add salt, pepper, and a really good grating of nutmeg.

8. When the onions have cooled a little, stir them into the custard with a few sprigs of thyme. Pour it into a 20cm flan dish, scatter a few sprigs of thyme and the rest of the Parmesan on top, and put it into the oven. Bake for 30 – 40 minutes., till it’s browned on top and just set.

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Serve with a radicchio salad with very finely sliced onion, anchovy, and pomegranate seeds, dressed with balsamic and olive oil.

N.b. Add salt before you add the anchovies, or you will salt the anchovies.

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Diva notes.

Serve immediately. This is because it will be at its best. And no one can steal it before you get to eat it. Although, if you do have some left, it is very good cold.