How to impress your snobbish friend under £20 (and still have fun)?
It’s called honey, truffle honey
Granted, the sound of it is a bit too aristocratic. I’ll tell you, if you say truffle-anything I’ll immediately start thinking about emperor penguins in neckties and a pedicure. Digression aside, what you really need to know is that, although this fungi-infused honey sounds like an eccentricity –and it definitely is– if you’re one of those that have witnessed the miracle of mixing savoury food and honey, you want to read this. Kicking-off our Fancy Series at Mucho, we’re going to get sensual on this fancy substance. I will avoid talking about Michael Fassbender and food again, because it’s getting too weird and kind of objectifying. But I just mentioned it, didn’t I…
Truffle + Honey
First, let’s break it down. Honey: the golden and sticky treasure of all bees, the royal nectar of honey badgers. This sweetener is already pretty solid on its own right and this tea-loving land wouldn’t be the same without it. It’s heaven with butter on toast, celestial with halloumi and devilish with Camembert (sounds pretentious, and it most definitely is, but you’ll forget all about that when you try it).
Now, truffles: the ridiculously expensive fungi of the world; I’ve heard the white ones are worth about 1.5 human kidneys each. Indeed, part of the reason why anything containing truffles is eccentric is the price: if you wanted to take home a kilo of white truffles today, you’d only have to pay the modest sum of €4,500. But, if you’re into wacko purchases, keep them frozen for they only keep fresh for a couple of days. Otherwise you could be left with a kilo of odourless mushrooms and a silly look on your face.
It’s a good thing truffle honey is reasonably priced, somehow, and is obviously found at Waitrose. While the price of a jar of traditional honey ranges from £3 to £10, a jar the truffled thang will cost you £7 to £15.
Best one we’ve tried? Savitar’s white truffle honey. Mucho’s cofounder Juliana ‘stumbled’ upon this baby by pestering the concierge of the Lucknam Park Hotel so he’d let her talk to the chef and ask where to find the good jar of truffle honey. Oh yeah, and, once she got it, she also made our entire co-working space smell the little jar to verify its worthiness. I’ll admit, those who were able to overcome the confusion of having another human making you smell a jar of honey at work, did look pretty impressed. Where can you get it? La Cave a Fromage. You’re welcome.
First, a few minutes to impress yourself: the true royalty
Some would say that the existence of cheese is why honey was infused with black or white truffles in the first place. While looking for some recipes, I expected to find way-out-of-budget combinations like caviar flavoured fancy-shnancy je ne sais quoi à la truffle honey. That, of course, does not exist, and instead I was encouraged to try some of them, these are my top 2:
- Camembert or brie with truffle honey: perfect for a decadent and comatose winter evening to forget about the short-days, the bone-grabbing cold and the sudden introspective behaviour makes you question just about everything. (I’m fine, don’t worry, I’ll eat my way through the winter.)
- Honey ricotta crostini: it’s just cheese, toasted baguette and magic honey. But once you try what it really is is poetic self-indulgence…
How to impress your snobbish friend under £20
We’ve all been there. The damage is done and you have a few minutes until the suede shoes, which are more likely to clean your floor instead of soiling it, will come ballet-dancing through your doorstep. You’ve just come from work and simply cannot be bothered this time to explain to the fancy human you call a friend why you’ve forgotten how a wine cork looks like.
So, there you are, with £20 and a bad mood.
You’ll need some pretty enormous wine glasses, almost uncontrollably large; unscented candles; the cheapest wine with a cork you can find (£9); ciabatta bread (£2.15); a camembert from the corner shop (£1.75) and the lowest range truffle honey (£7). No, my friend, money will not buy you patience.
Heat the oven at 200*C, put in the camembert for a few minutes while you give the ciabatta bread a light toast. Take out the camembert as it starts to look irresistibly gooey (do make sure your friend sees you’ve used the oven) and pour in the real royal nectar: wine. This is when you realise you’ve made it, you can make it through the night and you’re also eating like royalty.
Would you look at that? You’ve just pulled a camembert à la truffle honey appetiser and, ultimately, you have wine in your hands.
Win-win.
