Jasper Conran is picking broad beans from his well-stocked kitchen garden. His aunt, Priscilla Carluccio, is helping. Actually, they are busy bossing each other around. They do this a lot. There's a lot of banter involved with Jasper, and Priscilla can give as good as she gets.
They are the first beans of the season, still small and tender, and Jasper wants to eat them raw. Buster the dog wisely keeps out of the way, happily gnawing on his Gucci bone. Aidan, Jasper's Man Friday, who has just arrived with a stack of freshly laundered shirts for Jasper, is hauled in to help. He seems a little reluctant. Being at Jasper's beck and call must be quite tiring.
Back in the kitchen, Antonio Carluccio is sitting at one end of the huge old table, peeling asparagus. We are in Suffolk, where asparagus is sprouting all around, but he is using white asparagus, flown in from Italy. 'To avoid any colouring, it is cultivated in tunnels, in sandy soil. They cut it with a special knife and pull it out of the ground before it has contact with air,' he explains. This stops it turning violet. It will be served with melted butter and grated Parmesan 'for a little flavour'. Carluccio looks quite at home, his huge hands carving away, while he surveys the rest of the ingredients. Lunch will be eight courses, each sounding more mouth-watering than the next. Jasper's pals, the fashion legend Mary Quant and the entrepreneur Ivan Massow are the guests.
Massow arrived the night before, and is roaming around the grounds of Jasper's magnificent country home, pretending to read a book. He points apologetically to the cover - Snobs: A Novel, by Julian Fellowes, the scriptwriter for Gosford Park.
The house, Jasper tells me, has been adapted over the years. It is essentially a mix of medieval and Elizabethan, but has been continuously inhabited since 1070. The moat (yes, it has a moat, complete with a rowing boat that Jasper likes to tootle about in) is 10th-century. It is an extraordinary place, quite the most beautiful, idyllic house you could imagine. The chimneys all lean in different directions, and the old-fashioned roses ramble over the walls. 'It just grabbed me when I saw it,' says Jasper. 'It's not at all what I was looking for. I wanted something Queen Anne. He breathes in contentedly. 'It's wonderful here. In the morning and evening there's the sound of birdsong.' In between, there is hardly any other noise at all.
This is Jasper Conran's bolt hole, his refuge from London and a business that spans his fashion collection, his hugely successful J line for Debenhams and his work for Waterford Crystal and Wedgwood. The tableware has been such a hit that he has designed new ranges for baking and breakfast, to be launched soon. He bought the house two years ago and has been in love with it ever since. 'When I'm in London, all I think about is my house and garden, and will the beans be ready? I've always wanted a kitchen garden.'
His father, Sir Terence Conran, is of course no stranger to a row of beans. 'I've seen it in my father's house and, yes, I aspire to that.' Now they compare notes on their fruit and veg and bond over the season's harvest. 'We ring each other and gloat. It's really grown into a very loving friendship - which is probably about time at 44! But you have to be rebellious and cross for as long as possible.'
As well as the vegetables, Jasper is justly proud of his flower garden - a symmetrical series of herbaceous borders which are brimming with huge, frilly-edged poppies, lofty lupins and irises so dark and satu rated with colour they look as though they have been dipped in ink. Forget Milan, Paris and New York: given the option, he likes nothing better than an afternoon dead-heading the flowers. Or sprinkling lupin seeds around the country lanes near by. 'I have an alter ego,' he tells me. 'She's 78 and a bit ditzy.'
The doorbell rings and Aidan pops his head out through the medieval porch to announce that Mary Quant has arrived. She's wearing a tweedy fishing hat over her trademark bob. Jasper takes her off on a guided tour of the gardens. 'Well, f*** France, Jasper!' she explodes. 'This is unbelievable.' Later, she explains that both she and Jasper (who she says she has known 'forever') have been in love with south-west France for years, and have farmhouses 40 minutes' drive apart. 'When I saw this beautiful palace I realised it was the end of his love affair with France.' Her howl was in response to the fact that she knew she wouldn't be seeing much of him there this summer.
Although Jasper is wearing an apron, he hasn't done more than pick the beans and open a bottle of champagne (a favourite tipple before lunch, or indeed at almost any time, day or night). He says he likes to cook Italian food but today thought it would be better to leave it to the master himself, his uncle Antonio Carluccio.
Antonio and Priscilla have been busy fetching bags from the car. Despite the multiple courses, Antonio seems impossibly calm, partly because he has done a lot of preparation in advance, and partly because one of his chefs from the Neal Street Restaurant arrived this morning to help out. The lamb is cooking in the Aga; the plin (which Priscilla tells me means 'pinched') - little pasta parcels filled with meat - are all lined up and ready to go; and all that's left to make is the peaches in wine. In between showing me the artichokes that have been stuffed with breadcrumbs, parsley, capers and a little milk and cooked in oil until meltingly tender, Antonio even has time to tinkle the ivories on the grand piano in the music room.
Outside, the table is being laid - quite casually, as the name of Jasper's Wedgwood plates (Jasper Conran Casual) suggests - and everyone is getting a little restless. Ivan even attempts to make himself a piece of toast to stave off the hunger. And then the food begins to appear: the artichokes, with the glorious addition of plump, pink prawns, flown in from Sicily; pickled mushrooms, and cold melon soup with Parma ham.
Mary is having a fine old time. She punctuates each mouthful of food with appreciative grunts and groans. She pops one of the plin, served simply with a grating of white truffle, into her mouth. 'The taste, the texture, the smell!' she sighs in ecstasy. 'It's orgasmic - one of the most amazing things I've ever eaten.'
Meanwhile, a heated debate erupts between Ivan and Priscilla about GM food. He is for and she is against. 'It's quaint Luddism,' says Ivan, arguing that GM is necessary if we are to feed the world. He might as well have stepped into a bullring and waved a red flag. Priscilla is on a roll. 'There is adequate food in India. The grain goes bad because of poor distribution.' Jasper is on his aunt's side. 'I see the future of farming in this country as being organic,' he declares. 'The fields should get smaller and the hedges fatter.'
Ivan and the rest of the party agree to differ and as the lamb is served, the conversation turns to Mary's son's wedding, the joys of grandchildren (Mary has recently acquired two in quick succession), email versus letter writing, and the fact that Jasper's mother made him walk in heels. After the peaches in wine, Mary has another When Harry Met Sally moment when Antonio encourages her to dip her cantucci into her glass of dessert wine. 'Pure honey,' she purrs.
Happy, Antonio ambles off to try out the hammock. Within minutes, he is snor ing. Just to finish everyone off, grappa is served. Ivan has to leave to catch a train back to London and a peaceful calm hangs over the table. 'That was one of the most memorable, delicious meals,' says Mary. 'Good food is as good as really good sex. Slightly different, but as good.'
It's late afternoon and the birds are starting to sing. 'You get that bliss moment here,' says Jasper. 'I sometimes get very overwhelmed.' And, with the combination of the magical house, the fragrant gardens, the champagne and wines, the delicious food, not to mention the heady fumes of the grappa, it's really not at all surprising.
Recipes
Sicilian imperial prawns
serves 6
18 prawns
olive oil lemon juice
Peel off the hard scale on the body of the prawns, leaving the head and tail intact, then immerse them in salted boiling water for three to four minutes. Drain then, toss them in olive oil and sprinkle them with lemon juice. Serve with the stuffed artichokes, below.
Artichoke alla Romana
serves 4-6
8-12 (depending on size) young, fresh artichokes, firm to the touch
juice of 1 lemon 4 tbsp fresh breadcrumbs 2-3 free-range egg yolks 4 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil 4-5 fresh mint leaves, shredded 10 salted capers, desalted in water 30g freshly grated Parmesan cheese olive oil for cooking salt and pepper
Cut the top and bottom of the artichokes and discard the tough outer leaves until you reach the tender ones. Beat the artichokes gently with your hand so that they open just enough for you to see if there is any choke. If there is, it should be removed with a melon baller, although if it is very small, then it's probably tender enough and can be eaten. Squeeze lemon juice over the cut edges or immerse in the acidulated water.
Mix together the breadcrumbs, egg yolks, extra-virgin olive oil, mint, capers and Parmesan to obtain a soft mixture, using a little water if necessary. Add salt and pepper to taste, then use this to fill the cavities of the artichokes. Put them in a shallow pan, big enough to fit them all in tightly together. Cover with olive oil and cook very gently with a lid on for 20-30 minutes, depending on the size, without letting the oil bubble.
To test if they artichokes are tender enough to eat, just put a knife into the side of one, and if it penetrates easily, it means they are cooked. You can eat them hot or cold. You can use the superfluous oil for another meal.
Panna cotta with raspberry salsina
serves 4-6
1 leaf of gelatine
500ml single cream 45g caster sugar seeds of 1 vanilla pod 1 tsp vanilla essence 1 tbsp dark rum 150g fresh raspberries 2 tbsp caster sugar juice of half a lemon
Soak the gelatine leaf in a little cold water until soft. In a heavy-based pan, mix the cream with the sugar and vanilla pod, essence and rum. Bring to the boil, take off the heat and add the soaked gelatine and the rum. Stir well until the gelatine has dissolved. Pass through a fine sieve and pour into four or six dariole moulds, putting into the refrigerator to set.
Put the raspberries (save some for decoration) in a little pan, add sugar and lemon and cook gently until all dissolved. Cool and serve in a little pool in a plate. Position the panna cotta on top and decorate with a raspberry.
Agnolotti del plin
For the Agnolotti del plin, as ravioli are called in Piedmont, I need the help of Andrea, my chef at the Neal Street Restaurant.
serves 4-6 (a dozen per person)
60g roasted pork
60g roasted veal 60g mortadella 60g fresh luganica pork sausage 1 small onion, finely chopped 2 stems of celery 1 carrot, finely diced a few leaves of black cabbage and/or outer leaves of a Savoy cabbage, all finely cubed and chopped 3 tbsp olive oil 50g freshly grated Parmesan 1 whole beaten egg
for the dough:
300g double flour
2 whole eggs a little water 60g butter 50g freshly grated Parmesan few drops of truffle oil - Carluccio's, naturally! 60g summer truffle, very thinly sliced
Start by making the dough. Mix the flour with the eggs and, eventually, a little water. Work the dough quite well, either with your hands or in a machine. It needs to be smooth and elastic - the same feeling you get when you pinch a young person's bottom!
Wrap the dough in foil and rest it for a couple of hours. Meanwhile, if you have not already roasted the pork and veal, start from scratch by putting the onions, celery, carrots and black cabbage into a casserole with a little olive oil and water, and letting it become soft. In another casserole, put the luganica sausage, free of skin and reduced to crumbs, and a little oil and fry until it starts to brown. Add the coarsely chopped pork and veal and a little salt and pepper and fry gently until it too becomes brown.
Add a little of the liquid from the vegetables to the meat and let it simmer for between five and 10 minutes on a moderate heat. Now add the mortadella and process to obtain a soft, but not too wet, mixture. Taste for salt and pepper and add the Parmesan and egg.
Now go back to the dough and flatten it a little to obtain a thin band of pasta, 1ft long and 1.5" wide. It now requires a little skill to put small amounts of the filling in the middle of the pasta band, an inch apart. Wet the borders of the pasta with water so they become sticky. Pinch together the two sides of the pasta, then cut between the agnolotti and pinch together the sides as well, to create a sealed little pocket. Sprinkle with flour so they don't stick together and place on a clean cloth.
Bring the water to the boil - 1 litre per 100g of pasta and 10g of salt per litre. When it is boiling, add the pasta. If it's fresh, it will cook in five to six minutes. Put the butter and a few drops of truffle oil (no more or the flavour will become too intense) into a pan. Scoop in the agnolotti and add the Parmesan cheese. Toss a couple of times and serve with a few slices of summer truffle.
Should you be too afraid to make the ravioli, then buy some of good quality, but the result will be totally different.
Roast baby lamb
serves 8-10
2 legs of good new Welsh lamb
olive oil 3 bulbs of garlic, unpeeled rosemary 450g new potatoes a dozen new red onions a large bunch of peeled white asparagus melted butter grated Parmesan cheese salt and pepper
Sear the legs of lamb on each side, then pat with the salt, olive oil and put into the oven (around 180 c/gas 4 or 5) for one and a half hours with the garlic and rosemary twigs.
Quickly boil the new potatoes, cut the new red onions and toss them all with the leftover olive oil from the artichokes, add salt and lots of pepper and put into the oven for an hour (temperature as above). Boil the white asparagus for 20 minutes in salty water, then serve with a little melted butter and a little freshly grated Parmesan cheese on the tips.
· For Antonio Carluccio's Neal Street restaurant and Carluccio's Caffés visit www.carluccios.com
