Not the first thing that springs to mind when you picture sophisticated dining is it? The jacket potato? Though personally, I always do feel they have an air of luxury about them. Which might be down to the fact that my favourite fancy meal as a child was steak, beked potato with sour cream and chives and one of those big portobello mushrooms roasted with garlic butter. There was also always a baked tomato too, cut into a zig zag pattern. The tomato was never the best bit, though the juices were soaked up nicely by the floury flesh of the potato interior.
But our own children were never the biggest fans of a jacket potato. Possibly because school ones were microwaved and flabby and at home, I tended to serve them when maternal energy levels were so low that I couldn't be bothered to do real cooking. They consequently probably carry negative connertations that the boys can disect at future adult therapy sessions. As traumatised by my baked potato as I was by my father's tinned Fray Bentos steak and kidney pie, served for dinner on the day when I trod on a broken glass in a swimming pool and nearly sliced my heel off. Poor man, Don't expect he felt much like cooking that day either.
Today though, I might have redeemed the humble spud. I baked it in the usual fashion - stabbed generously with a fork and then rubbed in olive oil and plenty of salt. But it was the topping that held the magic.
A mixture of diced cucumber, spring onions, dill, smoked mackerel and raw grated beetroot stirred into a base of cream cheese, creme fraiche, horseradish, lemon juice, salt and pepper.
Divine, I tell you. A baked potato was never more scandi-chic. A nod to autumn. And extremely low effort, while feeling a tiny bit decadent.
