Quiche Lorraine.

Subtitled: how to make something very fine. Luxurious. Comforting. Of something which is so often destroyed.

Elizabeth David once decribed this quiche as a culinary dustbin. She was right. I was reading in a popular magazine last night all about a 'luxury quiche Lorraine' which contained onions, lots of herbs, mushrooms all manner of things. Nice, maybe, but not really a simple and splendid Quiche Lorraine. And, in my view, luxury often derives from simplicity.

I have an important food memory of being served this, in a big slice, somewhere near Strasbourg in Lorraine and Alsace. I was a feisty teenager of 17 taken on holiday, alone, with my parents. And this, as my mother said, shut me up. It was hot from the oven. My first globe artichoke did the same thing on that trip. I thought it was so beautiful, but did not know what to do with it. Now I do, the rest is silence

A proper quiche was also one of the first things I was ever taught to make. It was, along with a cake for the week ahead, my Sunday afternoon project as a child.

250g of shortcrust pastry. I should say make your own, having harped on about simplicity and luxury above. But I don't always.
4 large eggs, beaten well.
40g smoked bacon. Buy the best you can (as in naturally smoked, not smoke flavoured by something scary) and dice it. I snip mine with kitchen scissors, then fry it gently for a few minutes.
450 ml double cream
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1-2 teaspoons of unsalted butter to dot on top.

And nothing else!

Just line a pie or flan dish (20cm) with your pastry. My mother always kept some white beans (haricots, I believe) to use as baking beans. To be sure that your pastry won't collapse, you add the beans to the pastry and then part cook. Five to ten minutes should do it at gas 6/200. If you are confident, though, just prick the pastry gently with a fork before you add the filling.

Now beat the eggs and cream welll together and season with a small pinch of salt and a good grind of pepper. Scatter the bacon pieces evenly across the dish and pour over this liquid. Finish by breaking the butter into little pieces and dotting them here and there on top. Now bake the lot for about 25 minutes. If it looks well set before this -- pierce the middle gently with a skewer-- take it out. Be careful not to over-do it, though.

I would serve this hot, quite unadorned, on a plate. It needs no other accompaniment, but I might like a tomato or green salad afterwards. This was, in fact, a perfect Saturday lunch for me.