![fish and scallop pie recipe](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/food-and-drink/2018/12/21/Supper-Fish-Pie-with-Saffron-Mash_trans_NvBQzQNjv4Bqeo_i_u9APj8RuoebjoAHt0k9u7HhRJvuo-ZLenGRumA.jpg?imwidth=680)
A perfect menu for New Year's Eve: simple, special, and worth staying in for
![fish and scallop pie recipe](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/food-and-drink/2018/12/21/Supper-Fish-Pie-with-Saffron-Mash_trans_NvBQzQNjv4Bqeo_i_u9APj8RuoebjoAHt0k9u7HhRJvuo-ZLenGRumA.jpg?imwidth=680)
New Year’s Eve 1980, and I’m wearing a get-up that wouldn’t shame Adam Ant (a silk blouse with billowing sleeves, velvet trousers that finish at the knee, a red pirate sash knotted around my waist). I was a New Romantic looking for romance.
For my girlfriends and me, 31 December was about dancing with your mates until you were ready to drop – at one of the two big local discos – then finding someone to snog before midnight. At 11.45 the ladies’ loos were crammed with girls reapplying their lipstick, hopeful, even at this late stage, that it might make all the difference. We certainly weren’t thinking about food. We had appetites for something else.
I have had so many different New Year’s Eves that when I think about some of them, I wonder if that was really my life. On the surface, the night seems to be about getting to midnight, clinking glasses, kissing whoever you’re with, marvelling at the wonderfulness of things and going to bed tipsy (if not drunk).
In reality, especially when you’re under 30, it throbs with expectation. If you’re not euphoric by midnight there must be something amiss in your life. It’s the evening you’re supposed to love, but even the most hedonistic find it hard to ride the wave of fireworks and champagne without feeling under pressure.
I’ve done grand celebratory New Year’s Eves – standing on the edge of a frozen lake in Sweden, throwing my hat in the air on the Champs-Elysées, dodging firecrackers in Venice – and none of them, though they were lovely in different ways, delivered the ecstasy it was supposed to (actually the dinner in Venice – it lasted five hours – made me want to fling myself in the Grand Canal).
I’ve also done the fancy cooking thing, serving six courses that took three days to prepare and cost me a fortune (I’m ashamed to say I’ve even made Sauternes jellies that I built in layers, adding peeled grapes and specks of edible gold, then returning them to the fridge to set before building the next layer; but that was in the late 1980s, a time of excess, so I hope I can be forgiven).
![plates and glasses for New Years Eve](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/food-and-drink/2018/12/21/nye-supper_trans_NvBQzQNjv4Bqeo_i_u9APj8RuoebjoAHt0k9u7HhRJvuo-ZLenGRumA.jpg?imwidth=350)
The worst New Year’s Eves are those where it’s clear – like in a French art-house film – that nobody is as happy as they are pretending to be (I have been there, too, juggling hot pans while reassuring a guest that her husband was probably not having an affair, knowing that he was).
What New Year should be is one of those evenings we enjoy more than we like to admit. You can give me posh restaurants and exquisite settings, but what do I really love? Decent telly, good wine, not having to dress up, eating unfancy food with my favourite people. And this year, that's just perfect.
If you don’t expect to be ecstatic – just content – then you won’t be disappointed, and perhaps you’ll go to bed thinking how good the simple things are.
To this end I’m proposing the most down-to-earth of meals – fish pie, purple sprouting broccoli, fruit crumble – which I’ve elevated just enough to make these dishes not Wednesday-night fare (there are scallops in the pie, saffron in the mash and orange-blossom water in the crumble).
I wouldn’t bother with a starter, but since pulses are thought to bring good luck at this time of year, you could do braised puy lentils as an extra side.
The pie and pudding can be made in advance and heated in the oven, leaving you to feel ordinary contentment in the company of loved ones. Have a happy one.
![Champagne and sloe-gin cocktail with rosemary](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/food-and-drink/2018/12/21/Supper-Champagne-and-Slow-Gin-Cocktail-with-Rosemary_trans_NvBQzQNjv4Bq7cN0L8Ura0Bdvarobt0Wj1Vse9JsN00kzbUr3IXHaGo.jpg?imwidth=350)
Champagne and sloe-gin cocktail with rosemary
SERVES
6
- 50g granulated sugar
- 1 sprig of rosemary, plus extra to garnish
- 175ml sloe gin
- 6 tbsp lemon juice
- 600ml champagne, chilled
METHOD
- Put the sugar, 75ml water and the rosemary into a small saucepan and bring slowly to the boil, stirring a little to help the sugar dissolve. Boil for 3 minutes then take the pan off the heat and leave for 30 minutes, to infuse. Remove the rosemary.
- Divide the gin between 6 glasses (2 tbsp per glass). Add 1 tbsp of syrup and 1 tbsp of lemon juice to each. Top up with champagne, and garnish.
Read more: The best cocktail recipes for New Year's Eve: 10 easy drinks to make at home
Fish pie with saffron mash
![Fish pie with saffron mash](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/food-and-drink/2018/12/21/Supper-Fish-Pie-with-Saffron-Mash_trans_NvBQzQNjv4Bqeo_i_u9APj8RuoebjoAHt0k9u7HhRJvuo-ZLenGRumA.jpg?imwidth=350)
SERVES
6
INGREDIENTS
For the filling
- 500ml fish stock
- 1 small onion, thickly sliced
- handful of parsley stalks
- 3 bay leaves
- 6 black peppercorns
- 100ml dry white wine
- 800g fillets of haddock and salmon (or you can use white fish alone), skin removed
- 110g unsalted butter
- 1 tsp olive oil
- 12 scallops, cleaned (you can keep the orange roe on or not)
- 50g plain flour
- 175ml double cream
- 3 large leeks
For the mash
- 1kg mashing potatoes, peeled and cut into large chunks
- 50ml whole milk
- good pinch of saffron
- 50g butter
METHOD
- Put the stock in a saucepan with the onion, parsley, bay leaves and peppercorns, bring to the boil and reduce until you have 400ml. Transfer the stock (including the onion and aromatics) with the wine to a sauté pan and bring to the boil. Lower the heat and add the fillets. Cover and poach for 3 minutes, or until cooked through. Remove the fish with a slotted spoon and set aside. Keep the poaching liquor.
- Heat 15g of butter and the oil in a frying pan and, once it’s hot, cook the scallops for a minute on each side. They should be pale gold. Set aside.
- Strain the fish-poaching liquid. Melt 50g of the butter in a saucepan and add the flour. Stir together to combine and form a roux, then take the pan off the heat and gradually add the fish-poaching liquid. Do this a little at a time, beating well with a wooden spoon after each addition to ensure the mixture stays smooth.
- When all the liquid has been added put the pan back on the heat and bring to the boil, stirring all the time. The mixture will be thick. Season, turn down the heat and cook for 2 minutes, to cook out the flour. Add the cream and simmer for a minute.
- Trim the leeks and remove the outer leaves if they are coarse (discard these, or keep them for a soup). Slice the leeks into 1.5cm-thick rounds. Wash well.
- Melt the rest of the butter in a heavy-bottomed pan and add the leeks. Turn them over so that they get well coated in the butter. Season, add a couple of tablespoons of water, then cover with a lid and sweat the leeks over a low heat for about 10 minutes. You might need to add a splash more water to ensure that they don’t catch and burn on the bottom of the pan, but don’t add too much. If the mixture is very wet at the end, turn up the heat to drive off some of the moisture.
- Put the fish and scallops into a 2.2-litre (4-pint) pie dish. If any liquid has gathered under the fish, add it to the sauce – it’s important not just to put it in the dish as it will make watery patches in the pie.
- Spoon the leeks on top. Pour the sauce over and carefully mix it through to combine. Taste for seasoning. Leave this to cool then refrigerate. (A firm base makes it easier to spread the mash on top.)
- Cook the potatoes in boiling, lightly salted water until they’re tender, then drain. Put the potatoes back in the saucepan, then cover them with a clean tea towel and a lid. Put them back on a very low heat for a couple of minutes to let them dry out a bit – this gives a better mash.
- Heat the milk in a small pan with the saffron until boiling, then leave to infuse for 15 minutes. Preheat the oven to 180C/170C fan/gas mark 6.
- Mash the potatoes until smooth, adding the butter, the warm saffron milk and some seasoning. Spread over the chilled base and bake for 30-35 minutes, or until golden.
- You can make this the day before, cover and keep it in the fridge, then brush the top with melted butter and bake it for 45 minutes.
Roast purple sprouting broccoli with rocket and Parmesan
![Roast purple sprouting broccoli with rocket and Parmesan](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/food-and-drink/2018/12/21/Roast-Purple-Sprouting-Broccoli-with-Rocket-and-Parmesan_trans_NvBQzQNjv4Bqeo_i_u9APj8RuoebjoAHt0k9u7HhRJvuo-ZLenGRumA.jpg?imwidth=350)
SERVES
6
INGREDIENTS
- 500g purple sprouting broccoli
- 2 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil, plus extra to serve
- 75g rocket
- juice of ½ small lemon
- 25g Parmesan, shaved
METHOD
- Preheat the oven to 200C/190C fan/gas mark 6.
- If any of the broccoli pieces have wider stalks than the others, split them along their length. You need them all about the same thickness. Trim the bases.
- Lie the broccoli in a single layer in a roasting tin. Add the olive oil, toss the broccoli in it, and season.
- Roast for 12-15 minutes, turning the broccoli pieces over halfway through. They should be tender and slightly charred.
- Transfer to a serving dish and toss with the rocket (which will wilt a little), the lemon and a little more oil. Scatter the Parmesan on top and serve with the pie.
Roast apples, pears and blackberries with orange blossom and almond crumbs
![Roast apples, pears and blackberries with orange blossom and almond crumbs](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/food-and-drink/2018/12/21/Roast-Apples-Pears-and-Blackberries-with-Orange-Blossom-and-Almond-Crumbs_trans_NvBQzQNjv4Bqeo_i_u9APj8RuoebjoAHt0k9u7HhRJvuo-ZLenGRumA.jpg?imwidth=350)
SERVES
6
INGREDIENTS
For the filling
- 3 eating apples
- 3 pears, slightly under-ripe
- 2 tbsp granulated sugar
- 3 tbsp soft light-brown sugar
- finely grated zest and juice of 1 lemon
- 1 tbsp orange-blossom water
- 35g butter, melted
- 60g marzipan, broken into little chunks
- 150g fresh or frozen blackberries
For the crumbs
- 50g plain flour
- 30g ground almonds
- 65g cold butter, cut into cubes
- 2 tbsp soft light-brown sugar
- 5g flaked almonds
- icing sugar, for dusting (optional)
METHOD
- Preheat the oven to 200C/190C fan/gas mark 6.
- Halve and core each apple and pear – you can peel them as well if you want to. Lay the fruit facing cut-side up in a gratin dish.
- Sprinkle with the granulated sugar, half the brown sugar, the zest and juice, the flower water and the butter. Turn it all over with your hands.
- Take 30g of the marzipan nuggets and put them in among the fruit. Bake for 20 minutes.
- To make the crumbs, put the flour, ground almonds and butter into a bowl and rub them together with your fingertips. Add the sugar and rub it in too. You want to end up with a mixture that looks like small pebbles and gravel.
- Take the fruit out of the oven and toss the blackberries on top. Sprinkle on the remaining brown sugar.
- Sprinkle the almond crumbs over the top, then put the rest of the marzipan on top too, leaving patches of the fruit uncovered. Scatter on the flaked almonds and bake for 30 minutes.
- Leave to cool a bit (I like it at room temperature, but you might prefer it warm) and dust a little icing sugar over the top if you like.
- Serve with whipped cream or crème fraîche.
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