In response to customer complaints that they couldn’t buy Teasmades any more, a department store chain last week announced that it was to reintroduce the newfangled devices. My spirits were lifted by a demonstration of a corporate organisation listening to its most important asset, its customers, and I’m nearly always excited by gadgets and usually the more idiosyncratic the better. However, the Teasmade was never a machine that turned me on if only for the reason that it never made me my perfect cup of tea. And it’s at the start of the day that you need that very thing.

Early versions of these Victorian inspired devices (the Science Museum’s collection of Teasmades stretches back to 1902) were powered by gas or sometimes methylated spirits and were lit by a match waved by a lever against a suitable rough surface when the appropriate time was reached. It doesn’t take much imagination to realise that, as the sound of the striking match raises you from your slumbers, your waking moment could be your last.

When these things were first invented, houses weren’t routinely kitted out with central heating and double glazing. Therefore the starting temperature of the water in the little kettle could, depending on the seasons, be anywhere between zero and 20°C thus varying the amount of time from switching itself on to the production of a pot of tea and, as a result, giving an exciting unpredictability to your time of arising.

So, it couldn’t make a great cup of tea and it wasn’t much cop as an alarm clock. I’m not surprised that they disappeared from the shelves. Although, if I remember correctly from when I was a lad, the overly-complex contraption made so much noise as it attempted to raise the temperature of the water that I’d be woken in the next room by my parent’s asthmatic machine. And they made walls properly in those days.

It seemed so complicated and such an extreme way to make a cup of tea that I’m sure some people will have thought it less stressful just to throw away the un-chilled milk, drink the methylated spirits and use the water in the kettle to put out any resulting fire.

Much as I enjoy the march of technology, the relentless pursuit of it, even if this idea is over one hundred years old, doesn’t necessarily satisfy society’s real desires and sometimes it’s worth admitting that some ideas haven’t worked and going back to basics to get things right.

That’s why more and more people who know about important things are suggesting that we should go back to basics with the way we buy our food and return to eating not only local food but food that’s in season. It may be the old fashioned way of doing things without the technological assistance that brings us any food in any season but there are a few good reasons. First, it reduces the energy, and associated CO₂ emissions, needed to grow and transport the food. Second, you avoid food that may be scarcer of has travelled a long way and, third, it supports our local economy. But much more important than any of that, such food is fresher and therefore tends to be tastier and more nutritious.

So the message is simple: if you want all those benefits, eat local and in season - a nice uncomplicated solution. Unlike the Heath Robinson inspired device designed to make an under-par pot of tea and wake you up ten minutes or so before it’s ready.

This week’s dish is incredibly tasty because anything based on crab tends to be. If you really have a fear of making pastry or just can’t be bothered, there’s perfectly good frozen pastry available that’ll do the job. However, there is something very satisfying about making your own. When making pastry it’s essential that everything is kept cool, hence the cold butter. People with warm hands often find it difficult to make pastry. Making it in a food processor, like here, can help but don’t over process because the very act of processing it warms it up.

In this recipe I’ve described it as four individual tarts but if you wanted to make one tart and divide it, use the pastry to line an eight or nine inch diameter flan dish.

Serves four

For the pastry:

125g cold butter – cut into dice

One egg - beaten

250g plain flour

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Two to three tablespoons of water

For the filling:

One handful of diced red onion

Two handfuls of chopped leeks

Two handfuls of fresh spinach – roughly chopped

Olive oil

Two handfuls of wild rocket

1 cup of crab meat

A small carton of double cream

Two eggs - beaten

A handful of sun-dried tomatoes - chopped

Preheat the oven to 170°C (gas mark 3).

First make the pastry by placing the egg and butter into a food processor and blitzing until smooth. Add the flour and a pinch of salt and black pepper. Then, with the motor running, pour in the water until the mixture comes together in a ball. Remove from the processor, wrap it in cling film and allow it to rest for 30 minutes in the fridge.

Then roll the pastry out until it’s about the thickness of a pound coin. Line four 10cm (4 inch) tartlet rings with it and cut discs of greaseproof paper to fit inside each one. Scatter a few dried beans over each disk of paper or use a handful of pasta, just to weigh the pastry down, and bake in the oven for 5 to 10 minutes or until the pastry is cooked. Remove the greaseproof paper and allow to cool.

To make the filling, in a saucepan gently sauté the onion, leek and spinach in a little olive oil for a few minutes until the onion is soft. Remove from the heat and add half the rocket and crab, enough cream to bind the mixture together and then mix in the beaten eggs.

Spoon the mixture into the tartlet cases and bake in the oven until set – between 15 and 20 minutes.

To serve mix the tomatoes and remaining rocket together, pile onto service dishes and place the tart on top.

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