The London Bite

Chewing over pasture new

2011-03-16T23:15:00.000Z

That's right - The London Bite has moved and now looks all delicious over at http://www.thelondonbite.com/

Come on over and tuck in...

Thanks!

Filo

Dinner is served

2011-02-08T22:58:00.000Z

The godfather of all New Year's Days

2011-01-02T18:28:00.001Z

There are some things that are only acceptable on New Year's Day. Having the worst hangover of the whole year just gone. Having absolutely no guilt about not getting dressed. Telling yourself seriously that by this time next year you'll be two stone lighter/ tee-total/ in the perfect relationship/ have quit your job. Oh or watch almost nine hours straight of mafia-classic-epic The Godfather trilogy.

Yes, I'd never seen it, and, well, you could say watching it was one new year's resolutions that it was pretty easy to tick off the list. But if we were going to do it, we were going to do it in style. Italian style. Proper Bolognese, bottle of Chianti (hair of the dog, the only way through) and a huge portion of tiramisu. It was an offer I couldn't refuse.

Authentic Ragù Bolognese
This Delia recipe is almost as epic as The Godfather so best make ahead and make lots, you can freeze the extra (makes about 8 portions)

450g lean minced beef
450g minced pork
around 225g chopped chicken livers
140g chopped pancetta or streaky bacon
6 tbsp olive oil
2 medium onions, finely chopped
4 fat garlic cloves, chopped or crushed
2x 400g tins of chopped tomatoes
2x 200g tubes of tomato puree
half a bottle of red or white wine (Delia suggests red but traditionalists would go white...)
15g packet of basil
1/2 whole nutmeg, grated
And two off-Delia additions:
2 medium carrots, grated
250g packet of mushrooms, grated

First up brown off your minces seperately and add them to your biggest casserole dish (which is not on the heat). Then fry up the garlic and onions, add the pancetta or streaky bacon and cook until the onions soften and the bacon browns and cooks, lastly add the grated carrot and mushroom and continue stirring until cooked (left). Then add this to your casserole dish.

Finally add more oil to the frying pan and fry off the chopped chicken livers (add these even if you think you don't like liver, you can't taste them individually and it adds a secret richness to your bol sauce). Finally add these to your meat medley in the casserole dish (right). Add in your chopped tomatoes and tomato puree, wine and a very healthy seasoning of salt, pepper and grated nutmeg.

Pop this over the heat and bring to a simmer. Now this is where I've got to argue ol' Dels has got it wrong. She suggests putting the mix in the oven uncovered for 4 hours. We've tried this. It dries out. So you could put it in the oven partially covered to reduce. Or you could do it our way and cook it over a low heat on the hob for 4 hours. Yes and you have to keep stirring so it doesn't stick. It is painstaking method but boy is it worth it.

Spaghetti may be the pasta known for bolognese but fatter tagliatelle is far better (and what the Bolognese have with their ragu sauce) as it ropes in the sauce and gives it something to get hooked up on. Fresh egg pasta is best, so flash it in boiling water for a couple of minutes, drain, top with the ragu and a healthy shaving of parmasean, unplug the phone, pour a glass of Chianti, draw the curtains and settle down to a mafia marathon...

The three acts to The Godfather triology are perfectly timed to make the tiramisu between part one and two and for it to be set and ready to sweeten Sofia Coppola's wooden acting in part three.

Jamie does... Best Tiramisu
serves 12
(the Italians might kill him for messing with the classic recipe but this version has a kick of orange zest, richness for chocolate and an added lightness of egg whites through the mascapone)

200g good dark chocolate
50g diced butter
175g sponge fingers
400ml good hot sweetened coffee
Sweet dessert wine (Jamie suggests Vin Santo - however we went for Tia Maria...)
4 large eggs
100g caster sugar
750g mascapone
2 oranges
to garnish some crushed coffee beans, chocolate shavings or cocoa, orange zest

Melt your chocolate in a glass bowl over a pan of simmering water, although make sure it isn't touching the water. Add the diced butter and a pinch of salt and melt and stir to combine.

Line a large deep dish with sponge fingers, then carefully pour over the hot coffee. Add some booze to your melted coffee, stir through and then drizzle over the fingers and spread evenly (in a bit messy style... left).

Seperate the eggs with whites in one bowl and yolks in another. Add sugar to the yolks and if you fancy another swig of booze an whisk with an electric whisk for 5 minutes until everything is mixed and pale and fluffy. Mix in the mascapone and the zest of an orange.

Clean the whisk and whip the whites with a pinch of salt to stiff peaks - using the old turning the bowl upside down trick again. Using a large spoon, add spoonfuls of the white mix to the yolk bowl (right) and fold each through.

Spoon the mix over the chocolate layer and smooth. Garnish with a dusting of coffee and/or cocoa powder (or grated chocolate). Then pop in the fridge to set for two hours and sit down to part two...

Twas the night before Chirstmas...

2010-12-25T13:52:00.000Z

... when all through the house.
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
So to the kitchen I went, wooden spoon in hand.
To cook up a frenzy as a one-woman baking band!

Chirstmas! Food! Stuff yourself stupid until you can't move and pass out!

I always love coming home for Christmas - the fridge is full to breaking point with half the contents on Marks & Spencer and there are so many exciting cheeses, chocolates, wines and more that I could easily eat myself silly for a good month without leaving the house to refuel. So, as if there wasn't enough to consume already I decided yesterday that how better to get in the festive spirit than to bake cinnamon stars and mincemeat cheecake and then slump in front of the TV to watch Love Actually (again). So that's exactly what I did...

Now I'm not a fair-weather cinnamon-junkie, oh no for me it's a year-round obsession that can fortunately be flaunted publicly as the official 'essence of Christmas' as soon as the Starbucks red cups come out. It might have been gold, frankincense and myrrh that the three wise men brought to baby Jesus that night but really who knows what frankincense and myrrh smell like (gold is gold who cares what it smells like when it looks so pretty), I think we should update the tale and bring on cinnamon, cloves and, oh go on then, gold. Anyway before I re-write the entire story of Christmas, thankfully it's not just me that's obsessed with cinnamon: the Americans LOVE the stuff and the Germans are pretty fond of it too, bringing us our first creation:

Cinnamon Star Biscuits

(makes about 40 depending ohn the size of your stars)

300g plain flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp mixed spice
1/2 to 1 tsp cinnamon (depending on the level of obsession...)
100g softened unsalted butter
200g golden caster sugar
1 large egg, beaten

Sift the flour, baking powder, spices and a pinch of salt together. Cream together the butter and sugar together until pale and fluffy, then gradually beat in the egg (left).

Add the dry ingredients and mix thoroughly, add drops of cold water as needed to bind the dough.

Press the dough into a disc and wrap (in clingfilm or a plastic bag) and pop in the fridge for at least 30 minutes.

Heat the oven to 180 (160 if it's fan). Well flour your surface (don't want your stars to get stuck and deformed now do you? I totally didn't do that the first time, uhum...) and your rolling pin and roll the dough out to about the thickness of a pound coin. Stamp out your shapes (stars are the classic but go rogue and go for Christmas trees if you fancy a bigger biscuit) and keep re-balling and re-rolling and stamping until you've rinsed out your dough for all it's worth.

Lay on parchment-lined baking trays and pop in the oven for 15-20 minutes or until they are gorgeously lightly golden. Let cool (and do a taste test, of course). You could ice them to be trad but I didn't bother because that'd only dilute the cinnamon...

But my festive baking frenzy didn't stop there. I'm not a huge fan of Christmas pudding. To be honest, I think I may have never had it on Christmas Day (I may, shh, never have had it at all...). My grandmother alway used to bake the most gloriously fluffy, goo-ily meringue-y pavlova for Christmas dinner. I know, higly unconventional but how could you opt for a solid fruitcake over that glory? Everytime. Anyway my grandmother has now stopped baking so I thought it was high time I took up the alternative Day dessert mantle. I saw Nigel Slater's Mincemeat Cheesecake recipe in the OFM a few weeks back and that was it. Suitably festive and suitably tempting, he'd done it. And a new era of family Christmas dessert is born (hopefully).

Christmas Cheesecake
serves 8-10

As Nige says, you might find that your cheesecake cracks across the top as it cools (mine did - I maintain it adds to the 'homemade' look - and you can hide it with a bit of festive holly...). But if you are anti-cracks, Nige suggests you bake it in a water bath. so insted of placing on a baking tray, half-fill a roasting tin with water and lower the uncooked cheesecake into it and bake as suggested.

For the base:
65g butter
300g digestive biscuits or shortbread (it's Scottish innit so obviously went for shortbread)

For the filling:
600g full fat cream cheese
200g golden caster sugar
4 eggs plus one extra yolk
zest of one small orange (plus some extra to garnish)
few drops vanilla extract
300g sour cream
250g mincemeat

You want a round cake tin with a removable base about 22cm in diameter and 7.5cm deep. Line it with baking parchment. To make the base first smash up your shortbread (or biscuits). Food processor would be best, but in its absence I improvised with a mashing mallet and angry thoughts.

Melt the butter in a large saucepan and mix in the shortbread crumbs. Tip the glistening crumb mix into the tin and smooth out (don't mash it down). Put in the firdge for half an hour to set.

While it's in there, set the oven to 140 and make the filling. Put the cream cheese and sugar in a bowl (or food processor) and blend for a couple of minutes until smooth. Add the eggs then the extra yolk one by one, beating thoroughly and scrapping the sides inward if needed. Add the zest and the vanilla extract and blend with the food processor or hand blender. With just a spoon or spatula, mix in the soured cream. Then fold in the mincemeat gently.

Take the base out the fridge and place it on a piece of baking parchment on a baking tray. Pour in the filling mixture. Bake in the oven for an hour. The middle will still seem uncooked and wobbly but do not fear. After the hour, turn the oven off but leave the cheesecake in the hour for another hour with the door shut. After, remove from the oven, allow to cool then set in the fridge overnight (do this, you don't want a wobbly cheesecake). In the morning (Christmas morning!), remove from the fridge and garnish with orange zest, and if you fancy, holly. Merry Christmas!

SW London goes global

2010-12-22T23:09:00.001Z

The latest in my series of SW London restuarant mini-reviews for the lovely people at Heaver Magazine - took the ol' hood global with a whistle-stop culinery tour through Korean, Italian, Japanese, French and Argentinian (Entrée (French), Bistro Delicat (Austrian), Lola Roja (Spanish) and Doukan (Moroccan) are other notiable entries that missed out on the global stage as they'd already been reviewed).

Manson (SW6)

The owners of secret-gem gastropub The Sands End have upped their game to a fully-fledge restaurant in Manson, bringing in ex-Ramsay protégé chef Gemma Tuley to give a very un-pubby gastro French flair to their brassiere-style offering. Knowledgeable young things explain the menu peppered with ‘my favourite’ and appetite-whetting descriptions of the more inventive twists on classics sitting t alongside the untwist-ables such as oysters, terrine and lobster thermidor with truffle mash (don’t leave until you’ve tried it). But it’s the sharp presentation and interesting execution which lifts Manson head and shoulders above your average local restaurant and that will make it a classic.

Manson

676 Fulham Road

Parsons Green

SW6 5FA

020 7384 9559

http://www.balthazarrestaurant.co.uk/

Red Monkey Lounge (SW11)

Past the burly Friday-night bouncer and through the dimly-lit, packed bar isn’t where you expect to find fine sushi but find you shall, with an Asian-infused cocktail in hand. The menu is tapas-style and with a kitchen headed up by ex-Sake No Hana chef Pawal Wiktorek, these are no average bar snacks. Platters (kushiyaki, katsu or tempura) offer an easy introduction, with the grilled ‘kushiyaki’ selection including buttery belly pork, marinated just-done beef and a multitude of marinated veg. Sushi is super-fresh, while tuna katsu and spice ika (deep-fried strips of squid) are battered with the lightest of hands. Plus with three karaoke ‘pods’ downstairs, you can even sing for your supper.

Just a couple of tempting snaps (it was very dark and I, um, kept on diving in before I snapped... well I did say they were tempting - spider maki and the lightest tuna katsu)

Red Monkey Lounge
50-52 Battersea Rise
SW11 1EG
020 7924 6288
http://www.redmonkeylounge.co.uk/

Franco Manca (SW9)

All the accolades heaped upon Brixton pizzeria Franco Manca don’t weigh heavy on their produce – the sourdough bases are feather-light, while meticulously-sourced toppings are more-ishly minimal. With only six pizzas and two wines to choose from on the menu, it won’t be long until your choice is out of the wood-fired ovens specially imported from Naples and in front of you. Only open when the market is (which roughly equates to Monday to Saturday lunchtimes) the queue is almost as famous as the food, but if you’re not one for queuing (or lunchtimes) the recently opened Chiswick addition is an authentic export with an added reservations line.

Franco Manca

4 Market Row

Electric Lane

Brixton

SW9 8DL

020 7738 3021

http://www.francomanca.co.uk/

Santa Maria del Sur (SW8) - you know how much I love this one!

Argentina is generally known for two things: Evita and steak. Focusing on the latter (sorry Madge) has seen Santa Maria’s steady rise to South London fame and a recent appearance on Gordon Ramsay’s The F Word. You don’t come here for anything but steak, starters are nothing sensational (grilled cheese, chorizo, Serrano ham), but the steaks, oh the steaks – from 8oz to a pound of fillet, sirloin, rib-eye or rump – are served plain and simple (you can order sauces but that would be defying the point). The wine list, like the beef, is born and raised Argentinean and equally juicy and delicious. Argentina will be crying that this one got away.

Santa Maria del Sur

129 Queenstown Road

Battersea

SW8 3RH

020 7622 2088

http://www.santamariadelsur.co.uk/

Cah Chi (SW18)
Korean food might not get the top-billing of its Chinese and Japanese neighbours, but Cah Chi is no bit part. The star of the SW London Korean scene at their New Malden branch, the Earlsfield incarnation loses some of the more unusual dishes but excels in the crowd-pleasing barbecued fare. But don’t dive straight for your hot plate: glistening translucent dumplings and spicy stir-fries whet your appetite nicely before the table-top barbecue is revealed and your choice of meat sizzled then wrapped in a lettuce leaf with spring onions and Korean ‘miso’ called chang. With green-tea cheesecake and sake to round things off, plus a BYO on wine, Cah Chi is sure to come to play a regular role.

On our visit we opted for the set menu - hit me:

Our 'amuse bouche': fried soya beans, various (slightly mystery) pickled veg and a very-mash-potato-like potato salad... not a highlight, but there was plenty more to come.

Miso soup and more salad, we're getting warmer...

Now this was more like it and they were coming down thick and fast: vegetable stir fried noodles...

Delicately shiny pork dumplings...

And hot hot hot squid stir fry... yum.

But this is what it's all about: the barbeque. Over came the waitress, the middle of our table taken out, hot plate lit and we watched on tender hooks as she deftly chopsticked the sizzling pork (it was near as damnit bacon, mmm) until it was crispily perfect.

Then to add a 'healthy' element the bac...uhum.. pork was wrapped in a little lettace leaf 'pancake' with shredded spring onions and kang (miso-like) sauce... refreshingly delicious.

Now I don't normally opt for desserts in Asian restaurants a) because I'm normally so stuffed and b) I have, shall we say, a few bad experiences. But green tea cheesecake? My favourite dessert on a health kick? How could I resist. And I was pleasantly surprised... especially when washed down with sake and sticky sweet plum wine.

Cah Chi

394 Garratt Lane

Earlsfield

SW18 4HP

020 8946 8811

http://www.cahchi.com/

Feel the beet: Duck, beetroot and walnut warm salad

2010-10-23T18:08:00.001+01:00

Sometimes the Boy does things I'd just never consider to do. Like buy a whole duck because it's in the reduced price section late on a Thursday night. But you know there is method to his madness. After he had hacked it to bits with a carving knife and distributed to various plastic bags... Duck legs baked with orange and other delights one night, duck stock turned into a richly meaty pumpkin and chorizo soup. And then this little discovery.

Warm salad of duck breast with beetroot and walnuts
serves 2

1 large or two small duck breasts (skin on and scored)

For the beetroot puree:

100ml sweet sherry

1 tbsp sherry vinegar

1/2 red onion, chopped

2 cooked beetroot

pinch smoked paprika

pinch brown sugar

For the beetroot dressing:

3 tbsp olive oil

1tsp Dijon mustard

pinch salt

pinch sugar

To serve:

2 handfuls watercress, spinach and rocket salad

1 handful toasted walnuts

reserved beetroot puree

Heat oven to 180. Season the duck, heat an ovenproof frying pan over a high heat, add the duck skin-side down and fry for 2-3minutes on each side until golden brown. Transfer to oven and cook for 8-10mins, until still slightly pink in the middle. Remove and set aside on a warm covered plate (reserve any juices from the pan too).

For the beetroot puree, add the sherry, vinegar, red onion and beetroot to a pan with the duck juices in it and sprinkle over that pinch of smoked paprika. Bring to the boil and then simmer for 3-4 mins until its reduced by a third. Keep a couple fo tablespoons of the mixture for the dressing and blend the rest with the brown sugar in a food processor to silky smooth.

For the dressing, whisk reserved beetroot mixture, olive oil, mustard and pinch salt and sugar, then strain and keep the juicy liquids.

To serve carve the duck into 1cm thick slices. Arrange leave in the centre of the plat , arrange duck slices on top. Drizzle over the dressing and sprinkle with wlanuts. Dot the beetroot puree around the edge of the plate. Voila. Looks pretty pretty as well as tasting damn good. Love an autumnal salad.

Blanc-ity Blanc: A taste of Le Manoir aux Quat'Saison

2010-10-23T17:29:00.002+01:00

Sometimes my job takes me to some pretty nice places. I'm not going to go on about it, so I'll just leave you with the photos of a trip to heaven and back, to Raymond Blanc's famous Le Manoir. If I die this is where I want to go... As we swept through the gate in my old Clio, me a bit hungover clutching an empty coffee cup and ham and cheese panini wrapper from the service station (it revived me), everything else melted away. It was like we were entering a different world where everything moved just a little more leisurely, everyone was just a little more polite and everything was just a little more perfect. The grass, the house, the staff; all had that soft, understated yet exclusive cashmere finish. And as soon as I stepped blinking out of the car (mid-tweeting), was greeted, handed over my car keys and whisked straight to our room (that's right no check-in) it was like I was being wrapped up in the softest, warmest, most fragrant cashmere blanket. And I never wanted to come out of this cocoon.

A sweet introduction....

And to kick off the main event: Garden beetroot terrine, dill cream and horseradish sauce (served with Pouilly-Fuisse Clos Varambon 2007 Chateau des Rontets) Fresh, light and palette clensing to set the scene.

Risotto of wild mushrooms, mascarpone, truffle cream. I must be dreaming, Rich, flavours on amplified, smooth, this is what heaven tastes like...

Braised fillet of wild gill-netted brill, cornish assured oyster, cucumber and wasabi beurre blanc (served with Riesling 2008 Domaine Trimbach). A hint of Asia wooshed through this dish with the wasabi bringing out the fresh flavours.

Roasted breast and confit of Goosnargh duck, turnip gratin, yuzu curd; jasmine tea and ginger sauce - continuing the Asian theme. Although I have to admit that I had trouble concentrating on this dish as the man himself had joined our journo table for a chat and was sitting right next to me. Oh why, oh why had I not cribbed up on his biography first... maybe I would have asked some sensible questions then.

Coeur de Guanaja chocolate gelee, star anis and pear sorbet. I have to admit I wasn't the hugest fan of this it tasted like watered down chocolate and the flavour of the sorbet was just lost in the wash-out. Sorry Raym..

But the dessert wine (Muscat de Lunel 2007 Cuvee Vieilles Vignes, Clos Bellevue) and make you melt petit fours more than made up for it. As well as grilling the editor of Restaurant magazine on his favourite restaurants... it was (unsurprisingly after their top 100 restaurants were announced) The Ledbury. Another reason to get myself there. So I went to bed to dream of food.

Althought there was still room the next morning for more. Oh it was a breakfast-buffet lovers dream. Cheese... Meats... Breads... Fruits... all of about ten varieties with little chalked on mini slate pieces name tags. I could have stayed all morning.

But there was just enough time to walk off breakfast and the food in the almost as famous gardens. My favourite: the Japanese tea garden.

And one hell of a vegetable patch...

Goodbye Le Manoir... Goodbye Raym. Thanks for the taste of the good life.

Home on the range: The Big Birthday Blow-out

2010-10-18T22:22:00.001+01:00

So it's kind of become traditional that birthdays = Boy cooking like he's never cooked before (and me losing him for most of the day to Borough market). So on Saturday it was that day, and I was well excited.

I had no idea what I was going to get. After a pork and silton burger at Borough I was cast loose, while he sourced his supplies. I had a kiwi smoothie, do love a kiwi smoothie, and tried to re-ignite my hunger pangs... it was 3pm by now...

Back home and the scene was set: candles, flowers, Cinematic Orchestra CD on... I was waiting. And couldn't resist a nosey:

Mmmm. I was banished, the first course was up:

Fried Scallops with saffron potatoes, asparagus and samphire (courtesy of Ottolenghi)
serves 2 as a starter

200g potatoes, peeled and cut into little cubes

pinch of saffron

1 small tomato

20g samphire

4 asparagus spears

4 medium-large fresh scallops

For the aioli:

4 garlic cloves, peeled

50ml olive oil

50ml sunflower oil

1 free-range egg yolk

1 tsp white wine vinegar

1/8 tsp Dijon mustard

pinch of salt

Make aioli first: heat oven to 150 and roast the garlic cloves wrapped in a sheet of foil for 25-35minutes. Remove, cool and mash with a fork. Mix the olive and sunflower oil. In a seperate bowl, combine egg yolk, vinegar, mustard, garlic, salt and a good grind of pepper. whisk by hand or in a food processor while slowly drizzling the oil. The end result should be thick (like mayo) so adjust oil accordingly and season to taste.

Put the potatoes in a medium saucepan, cover with cold water, then add the saffron and a generous pinch of salt. Bring to the boil then reduce to a simmer for 6-8 minutes so the potatoes are still slightly firm. Drain and cool. While the potatoes are on, cut the tomato into 4 wedges and remove the seeds, cut each quarter into a fine dice (about 1/2cm).

Wash the samphire then throw in a pan of boiling water for just 1 minute and scoop it out and rinse in cold water. Trim the asparagusand cut each spear into 3cm pieces - drop in the pan from the samphire and simmer for 2-3minute then drain and rinse in cold water.

To serve heat 2 large frying pans with 1tbsp olive oil each. When piping hot add potatoes to one of the pans. Toss them to get some colourand then add asparagus and samphire to warm them up. Taste and season. At the same time, give scallops a good season and pop in the other pan. Sear for 30-50 second til each side is just cooked (want to keep them good and let in the mouthy). Divide warm scallops and veg between two plates ans spoon a wee dollop of aioli, garnished with the tomato and a drizzle of oil. Definitely one to impress and impress it did. Especially accompanied with champagne...

After I went to heaven and back with the first course, out came the wine from Artisan and Vine: Birichino Malvasia Bianca. It smelt like the breeze on some exotic holiday: eldeflower, jasmine, lime. But it was just teasing you, like a woman wafting her perfume, the first sip revealed it was pleasingly bone dry. But then I was distracted by the sound of roaring flames from the kitchen.

Someone was getting a bit enthusiastic with his flambéing. Round two was up:

Chicken with tarragon sauce (courtesy of John Torode's Chicken and Other Birds), served with a roasted garlic and carrot mash and green beans

Serves 2

2 chicken breasts skin on

100ml brandy

100ml creme fraiche

handful chopped parsley

handfull torn tarragon leaves

Heat a heavy frying pan over a medium heat and add a little olive oil. Season the chicken well and pop skin-side down into the pan. Cook for a good 8 minutes, then turn and cook the same. Check it is cooked through, then remove it from the pan and keep warm.

Crank up the heat on the pan to very high (everytime I read this instruction I hear Jim Carrey in the Mask: 'Smoooooooooooooookin' It haunts me). Add the brandy and carefully (uhum) flame it to burn off the harsh alcohol taste. Shake or stir to get in the good pan juices and sticky bits on the pan. Stir in the creme fraiche then taste and season. Bring to the boil and reduce by half. Add most of the parsley and tarragon. Serve the sauce with the chicken pouring over the brown juices that come with the rested chicken. Sprinkle with the remains for the herbs and serve. Voila!

And that was were the cooking ended and we moved on to Waitrose's apricot tart, ice cream, cheese, more cheese, port... well the Boy couldn't stay in the kitchen all night after all.

Birthdays and bacon foam: Galvin at Windows

2010-10-06T08:35:00.003+01:00

Lunchtime is under-rated. And lunchtime at top London restaurants is usually under-priced and under-booked - the creme of London's dining scene at under £30 for 3 courses? Yes please, sign me up. Unfortunately a little thing called work gets in the way of these weekday lunchtime indulgences usually but last Tuesday was my birthday. I don't do work on birthdays.

So the Pastry Mum came down from Glasgow and took me (and the bro) to Galvin at Windows. Man, I love birthdays (and I still had the Boy's extravaganza on Saturday... can it live up to?) I haven't been to that many hotel restaurants in London, and that doesn't really have much to do with not having stayed at any of the big London hotels. They are just normal so... out of reach, and yes that does often mean overpriced. They cater to a, uhum, more international cliental, ie. those who could actually afford their room rates. But they do attract some of the heavyweight chefs (Koffman, Ramsay et al) and often the stars (I mean Michelin not celebrities) to back it up. So I knew what to expect - waiters like bees to a honeypot flapping and flumping napkins and pulling chairs. What I didn't expect, although I knew they would be, was the view. Wowsers.

As we were on the lunch deal we weren't allowed near the a la carte but set menus (even Arbutus' two choicer number) never bother me... I'll eat anything.

It took me two seconds to decide - the words foie gras and cuttlefish did it for me. Oh and a rather nice bottle of Gavi (the wine list actually starts from around £18 which was refreshing).

You couldn't fault the starter, but hey a good foie gras is a safe choice, and it came with perfectly toasted, napkin wrapped bread to spread it on. Although, as usual, I ran out before the gras did... I can never get it right.

The main though was the deal clincher. And we all ordered it. I wouldn't normally go for a full house ('What!? I'm not going to even see (let alone have a sneaky taste of) the others?!') but I wasn't going to give up the cuttlefish, although it transpired my mother would - she doesn't do fish without scales. Of course it was perfectly balanced: the fresh bream, the soft cuttlefish flavour and texture, the sweet tartness of the onions, the light but richly flavoured risotto and the devilishly creamy bacon foam. Aah the foam.

The dessert is always a bit of an aftertought my family but after the all-round main we went one of each.

I won with the almond pannacotta and blackberry compote - I was scraping the glass with my little spoon in a most unladylike like manner. I would have probably tried to lick it if the waiters hadn't whipped in with:

Woo! Lest I forget it's my birthday. And there was just time for some homemade marshmallows, which tasted like I imagined clouds would if they were made of sugar - like inhaling light, flumpy morsels of sweetness (reminds me I must dig out that recipe for homemade marshmallows and give it a whirl).

Oh and a sighting of Russell Brand. But even that wasn't going to sour the experience.

Gone fishing: Smoked mackerel and bacon cakes

2010-09-25T12:00:00.004+01:00

I'd never had fish cakes until a couple of years ago. Really. I'm not sure why or how, I guess I was more a battered fish and chips kind of child, but they are a midweek meal revelation. Meat and potatoes in one dish! You don't even need a side, it's all there self-contained in one plump little pattie. Weaning myself in on M&S ones, it was high time to graduate to making my own, step in Nigel Slater's...

Smoked mackerel and bacon cakes

Serves 4 (here I halved quanities for 2)

400g floury potatoes

150g smoked streaky bacon
3 spring onions
1tbsp olive oil

250g smoked mackerel flesh

oil for cooking

flour for dusting

lemon halves to serve

Peel and pop the potatos on to boil. While they're simmering away put the bacon and roughly chopped spring onions in the food processor and whizz until they look soft and sort of crumbly (left).

Once the potatoes are boiled, drain and mash away. Fry up the onions and bacon mix in oil until golden and tasty smelling and then tip them into the mashed potato. Flake the mackerel flesh into the mix and stir through, seasoning with a bit of salt and pepper.

Now for the fun part, flour up a backing tray and with floury hand shape your patties and leave on the tray in a cool place (I went for by an open window) for 20 minutes.

Heat a couple of tablespoons of oil in a frying pan. dust each cake with some of the flour from the tray and pop in the hot oil. Fry for a about 4 minutes on each side until they are crisp and golden, mmmm. Serve with the lemon half, some salad and, if you are feeling well crazy, some creme fraiche or tartare sauce. Yum.

Roon-ing around (and no nothing to do with Wayne)

2010-09-15T22:53:00.001+01:00

It's hard not to love macaroons (macarons en Francais). Small, perfectly formed, melt in the mouth. But being an impoverish journo the one thing I don't love it the price (£1 a macaroon!! But they're tiny!!!) and they've stopped sending me free ones... So... I thought... how hard can they be to make? Uhum...

So make your own macaroons. There are plenty of recipes out there so Saturday morning and I set to work. I had two recipes: Ottolenghi and Delicious Magazine. So of course, erring on the side of caution why not combine them?! But what flavour, what flavour... the trusted Ottolenghi offered up salt peanut and caramel, lime and basil and chocolate, while Delicious opts for a myriad of flavour extracts or chocolate.... mmmm. But it had to be raspberry.

The first stumbling block came when 'the big Tescos' didn't have raspberry flavour extract. Ok, I thought, I'll get really raspberries, we'll work this.

Macaroons are essentially almondy meringue sandwiches, so the basis to the recipe is sugar, egg whites and ground almonds. Easy! Laduree, watch out.

I kicked off on the Delicious recipe (sorry, Otto, I love you really and this may have been my first mistake) but mostly because it called for bigger qualities (175g icing sugar, 125g ground almonds, 3 large egg whites, 75g caster sugar) compared to Otto's (110g icing sugar, 60g ground almonds, 2 large egg whites, 40g caster sugar) and I was greedy.

The method though is pretty much standard:

Pre-heat the over to 160 (less if you're is fan, not accounted for in the Otto recipe, error two). Sieve the icing sugar and ground almonds into a bowl.

Crack the eggs into a bowl and whisk until thick and glossy, adding the caster sugar as the peaks form.

Of course, I couldn't resist the classic test: tipping the bowl upside down. Gingerly, very gingerly...

Phew. Fold bit by bit, either the meringue into the almond/icing sugar or the almond/icing sugar into the meringue (recipe dependant). Now add your flavouring. Working with my fresh raspberries, I decided the best option would be to blitz them in the food processor and then sieve them to take out the pips. So I added the juice which gave a satisfying pinky colour to the mixture. Now comes the fun/messy bit: piping! So armed with a icing piping bag (John Lewis or a specialist cooking shop will help you out), fill the bag halfway and then pipe only a baking paper lined tray. You're aiming for blobs about 3cm wide, about the size of a two pound coin. They don't swell like cookies when you bake them so space them but you don't need loads of room.

Bang them on the kitchen surface so they form a good 'foot' (you know that distinctive puffy, rough base). Leave for 15 minutes uncovered before you pop them in the oven for about 12-15 minutes.

While the 'bread' of the sandwich as cooking, it's time to make the buttercream filling. Having had far too much meringue mix for my trays last time, I decided to switch back to my beloved Otto (sorry I deserted you!). So 100g unsalted soft butter and 45g icing sugar mixed together until pale coloured and smooth. Then add your flavouring (more pulverised raspberries).

Check the 'breads' regularly though (third mistake), you want them raised and hard but leave them too long and they'll go golden and overcooked. They should also be cooked enough that they come easily off the baking sheet and there's no meringue goo still holding them on. Mine were almost there but somehow both slighty over-and under-cooked.

Leave the meringues to cool before assembling the macaroons with a small spoonful of buttercream holding the sandwiches together, then leave somewhere cool to set.

So the verdict? Ok, so they're no Laduree, more homely than haute-caketure but they still disappeared between me and the Boy in ooh two days. Twenty of them. But for next time? Work on the meringue mixture (I think I might need a more precise scale). The flavouring needed to be a bit more intense... it was kind of like roses to rose water in terms of the raspberry flavour. And I need to play with the oven temperature and time (a constant battle with my oven). And oh, one last thing, I think they would've been better with a jam-y filling rather than buttercream. But apart from that they were deeeeeeeeelicious. And very much less than £1 each.

Pick your own, make your own

2010-09-07T23:29:00.000+01:00

There are certain childhood memories that are hold a mythical status in your mind - for me going to pick your own fruit is right up there. Rows upon rows of raspberries glistening in the sun, as much as you can eat straight from the branch... well that might not technically be the point of pick your own, but it was for me. It was like the Willy Wonka Factory but instead of chocolate there were raspberries, everywhere. Until I was quite possibly sick.

So sunny bank holiday weekend and I did my best child like pleading. 'Peeeeeeeeeete, please can we go pick your own pleeeeeeeeeeease. You prooooooomiiiiiiiised.' It worked. And off we piled in the car to Garsons in Esher - the very same pick your own farm as I went to as a kid. Oh it was too good to be true.

Now, many things that were immense as a child shrink under adult eyes. Cinema pick'n'mix tastes a little less sweet. Slides are so much shorter and lower. Swimming pool wave machines no longer house sharks, but are just bars at the end of the pool (is that just me?). But the pick your own farm was still as huge as I remembered.

'We need to get some punnets.' I informed the Boy as we drove past field upon field.

'I think we need to find something to pick first.' Good point, it turns our August isn't prime picking period, oops.

We stop at the corn fields first. I hate to admit but I'd never really knew that corn grew out the bottom of the erm, corn on the cob plants... but we selected two plump looking corns 'for starters'. But I was really here for the fruit. Some sad looking blackberry plants were either overpicked or under-ripe and a good 20 minutes of picking only yielded a handful of berries and some scratched wrists. Onward. Carrots, onions and marrows didn't really have the immediate hit (uhum, eat) appeal...

'Maybe if we got some apples we could make a crumble,' said the Boy. Good plan.

Apples were much more fun to pick, giving a satisfyingly weighty plop into your palm when you twisted them off the tree.

But apple picking wasn't what I was here for really. Back in the car in search of the sweet fruit. And just before we got to the exit: berry nirvana! Raspberries, strawberries, ripe and ready to go. I hadn't imagined how fun this was after all. Pick one, eat one, pick one...

Back home it was crumble time. One of my favourite quick-fire recipes is peach, raspberry and ginger crumble from Gordon Ramsay's Cooking for Friends. It's dead simple and won over the Boy's grandmother so it's a keeper. I'll give it to you whole before today's adaptation, becasue it is yum and the stem ginger is an amazing addition.

Peach, raspberry and ginger crumble

For the filling:
8 fimr but ripe peaches
250g raspberries
2 tbsp lemon juice
2 tbsp icing sugar
2 stem ginger in syrup, finely chopped

For the crumble:
50g plain flour
pinch of salt
40g diced butter
35g rolled oats
50g demerara sugar
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
30g slivered almonds or crushed hazelnuts (or both!)

Heat the oven to 190. To make the filling: Cut the peaches into wedges and toss in a large bowl with the raspberries, lemon juice, icing sugar and stem ginger. Spread them evenly in a large butter baking dish.

To make the crumble: put the flour and salt in a bowl and add the diced butter. Rub the butter into the floru with your fingers until it looks like coarse breadcrumbs. Stir in the oats, sugar, cinnamon and nuts and sprinkle over the filling. Bake for about 25-30 minutes until crumble is golden brown and then stand for 10 before serving with ice cream (of course!)

To turn this beauty into late summer fruits crumble: make the filling with one large sliced cooking apple, a handful of blackberries and a handful and a half of raspberries. Toss with the lemon juice, icing sugar but replace the ginger with a covering of ground cinnamon. Crumble and bake the same and voila, from field to bowl in one day.

Viennese treat - Bistro Delicat, Battersea

2010-08-31T21:51:00.005+01:00

I admit the last time I was in Vienna, inter-railing aged 18, I had far from a gastronomic time. Aside from a lot of amazing cake, most of my foodie memories involve bread and cheese from supermarkets at the best, and McDonalds and Pizza Hut at the worst on a rainy Sunday after we rashly decided to take a night train to Venice on Sunday night, check out our hostel on the Sunday morning and spend the day mooching around Vienna. This would've been fine if it hadn't torrentially rained, and if, in typical European-style, almost everything been shut for Sunday. Even the cake shops. We ended up riding the underground for a dry, warm activity. It was a low point. (Although I've just discovered that one of my favourite museums in the whole world Kunst Haus Vien - a visually-intoxicating museum built by and dedicated to Austrian artist/architect Hundertwasser. The man believed strongly in colour and little in straight lines - is actually open on Sunday. We visited on Saturday.)

Anyway my knowledge of Viennese cuisine extended little beyond cakes (I blanked out the other disasters). Wiener Shnitzel maybe, but I don't think I actually ate it there as I was in my weird vegetarian phase (it was a strange time of my life). So when new restuarant Bistro Delicat opened on South West London's eatathon that is Northcote Road at the beginning of July I was intrigued. Not least because it was a new restaurant in South West London that wasn't a chain (harsh, but kinda fair). Not least because of the Ikea goes uber-chic Scandi-esque decor of black and white tiles and neat pale wood table and chairs. But because it promised Austrian cuisine, and I wasn't entiring sure what that would mean on the menu...

The Boy was away playing with cars in Hungary so I met my old uni-friend, the extra-talented and ultra-liability Jonathan. He was half-an-hour late despite living round the corner. But no matter, it gave me plenty of time to study the menu, have owner Erik introduce me to some Austrian whites (which dominates the menu, white and red - you won't find a better selection in London). The French, German and English newspapers hanging waiting to be read on the white tiled walls and the Parisian bistro soundtrack (identified immediately by Jonathan as the Amelia soundtrack, appropriately enough) gave the continental-cafe vibe. As did the multi-European staff (German chef, French sous, and vegetarian French waiter 'It's difficult in France... they don't understand...')

Rye bread and olive oil was followed (with Jonathan's eventual crashing into the restaurant) with starters: Austrian curd ravioli-type pasta Schlutzkrapfen, filled with curd cheese and spinach (a heavier touch but with more bite than traditional Italian pasta):

And a charcuterie board - German Schwarzwaelder Schinken (Black Forest ham), French Bayonne ham, Austrian Tyrol Speck, duck rillette (Erik tells us it had been cooked for 17 hours), saucisson rosette, cornichons and pickled baby onions.

Mains we opted for one more predictable yellow-fin tuna with home-made pesto and tomato salad - which was everything you'd expect, but lovely nevertheless.

The other choice was a given, and I wasn't really given a choice - 'I've been told our Wiener Schnitzel is the best this side of Vienna' says Erik. I was sold. And not disappointed. Feather-light batter, paper-thin veal and a lemon in a muslin cloth (a nice touch).

Not content with showing off the Wiener Schnitzel, Erik's enthusiasm also translated into a taster of scallops and confit pork belly, which was every bit a melting moment as you'd hope.

Sides were really a bit superfluous - ratatouille (average) and intensely and addictively garlicky spinach.

Desserts, well with my past Viennese experience how could we refuse? No cakes this time, but again we straddled continental Europe with French crêpes and Austrian sweet apricot Knödel - deliciously naughty balls of dumpling that tasted like cake gone deep fried... as with the rest of the meal the Austrian elements won out. So much so I even forgot to take a picture... oh well you'll just have to go and see for yourself.

Bistro Delicat
124 Northcote Road
SW11 6QU
020 7924 3566
http://www.bistrodelicat.com/

The best pub in London?

2010-07-30T09:42:00.002+01:00

A wander last sunny weekend on Hampstead Heath found us here... It doesn't serve proper food (just great home-made pork pies, scotch eggs, cheese and chutneys). It only serves small brewery cider and ale. People play the piano. They sell you carry outs and picnics to take to Hampstead Heath. It's awesome. Go.

Southampton Arms

139 Highgate Road

Kentish Town

London

NW5 1LE

http://www.thesouthamptonarms.co.uk/

You scream, I scream

2010-07-29T12:33:00.003+01:00

Filo hits CNTraveller.com and eats a lot of ice cream in the process. More pics of the scientific treats at Chin Chin Labs. Is it novelty over substance? I don't think so, I don't really care. It was yum. (And fun)

http://www.cntraveller.com/recommended/uk/the-best-ice-cream-in-the-uk

Take a lick... uhum.

Something fishy up North - Crabshakk, Glasgow

2010-07-18T12:59:00.002+01:00

Most of my food memories of my teenage years when I grew up in Glasgow revolve around one place: 24/7 Cafe on Sauchihall Street (which after various incarnations is now called Steak and Cherry, I don't think it serves steaks or cherries mind...). USA Breakfasts and curly fries at 3am celebrating a night trying to kiss boys and wiggle our hips and ‘small and humble’ breasts like Shakira to ‘Whenever, Wherever’ if we got into The Garage or The Shack (the place to go if you were around 17 in Glasgow in 2001 before it burnt down), or cheese toasties and milkshakes to commiserate a night of getting turned away for dodgy fake IDs and ending up at Destiny at the wrong end of town trying to avoid boys with teeth missing wanting to kiss us and attempting to feel the beat of dodgy happy hardcore soundtrack. It was only a really bad night if one of us failed to get in to 24/7 on the account of being still too drunk.... but let’s not dwell on that.

Going back to Glasgow to visit now my dining-dial is still set to the early noughties – French martinis at The Social on Royal Exchange Square, the disappointment of finding that OKO (Glasgow’s first catching on to the sushi trend in the Merchant City) has shut, god, I can still remember when I was at university in Edinburgh the trip through on the train for the excitement of Wagamama opening north of the border. But Glasgow’s dining scene has moved on since then and so have I.

Crabshakk (look past the ridiculous spelling, I hate it too) opened last year and caught national attention when various Saturday supplements reviewed it including Kate Spicer for The Times while up with fishboy Tom Aikens filming Iron Chef. Having heard mutterings before from Glaswegian fish-loving friends my interest was piqued; when I found out even my mother (who doesn’t like shellfish, oh the travesty) had been, I knew I had to get a table. So Choux Boy and I decided what better way to celebrate our engagement (again) than to eat lots of fish and drink lots of wine. Perfect if you ask me.

Glasgow pretty much is divided into ‘town’ (The shopping Z of Sauchihall Street, Buchanan Street and Argyle Street and surrounds) and ‘the Westend’ (Byres Road and the university area) with two distinct camps of fans. ‘Town’ is more flash, more cocktail bars and fusion-dining with a spattering of old institutions, while ‘the Westend’, with its student and arty inhabitants, is more low-key and understated cool. The Crabshakk falls geographically and demographically between the two, located at the unventured end of Argyle St round from the mega-concert/exhibition centre the SECC. The unassuming narrow glass frontage is easy to miss: a discreet sign on the door and catch a glimpse of whole crabs being demolished at the huge bar that dominates the downstairs, and you know you are in the right place. ‘Get a table upstairs,’ was my mother’s instruction. ‘Downstairs the tables are so narrow Joan and I could barely fit our fish and chips on them – it’s just like bits of driftwood!’. Whether my mother appreciated the chic seaside vibe was questionable, but the calm blue walls, wood-panelling, coastal prints and model boats on the wall suited the theme. But still our friendly shaggy-haired waiter led us up to the glass-edged mezzanine level (the perfect vantage point for spying on what people were eating at the bar) and a large non-‘driftwood’ table – which was just as well as there was a lot of food to be ordered.

Like Santa Maria del Sur was to steak, Crabshakk is to fish, don’t come here if you don’t want to order it. Menus were cardboard strips, bulldog-clipped together – oysters, mussels, squid, scallops, lobster, and of course, crab. A steak, a veggie risotto and a few sides (chips, bread, salad) were about as off-piste as you got. A mini-blackboard of lunch specials were whisked over – smaller portioned catches – and it was decision time. Not to limit our options the Boy and I went for the old chestnut of sharing everything: six oysters, starter portion of scallops in anchovy butter, a lunch special of grilled mackerel on a bed of leeks and beans with an olive tapenade dressing, bread, salad, and of course, a whole crab. Well, when in Rome...

Fresh oysters and a couple of glasses of prosecco kicked of the celebratory mood nicely – not much that could go wrong there. And from the 12.30 quietness when we arrived, the tables will filling up with Friday lunchtime groups of businessmen (champagne and mussels all round), families and couples; it was chocca.

Scallops came sizzling in a mini cast iron-pot... and looked amazing. Two huge and plump with a baby friend to fight over, cutting into them and the texture was about as buttery as well, butter. They melted in my mouth as the Boy and I fought over the last morsel. The anchovy butter that crusted onto the pot round the edges was crying out to be soaked up by hulks of bread.

‘Do you know that is pure fat you are putting on your bread,’ says Choux Boy, in an unusually healthy observation.

‘I know... Mmmmm!’ At this point I really don’t care, anyway fish is healthy isn’t it?

‘Another glass of prosecco?’ asks shaggy waiter.

‘No, a bottle of the Chardonnay.’ We were on a roll.

I think one of the best things about crab (or even lobster) is that you really feel like you are working for your reward. All that cracking and scrapping and accidentally spraying crab meat at the next table, as the gravely-voiced man in the Guinness advert says ‘Good things come to those who wait.’ Tick tock tick... But sometimes you’re starving, so the mackerel was a good idea – a snack while we dug around for our food.

I got cracking while the Boy tucked into his mackerel half, then I down tools for mine – fresh and tasty but the most interesting part of it was probably the tapenade dressing, which was an unexpected hit. With the two of us toiling the crab was quickly de-constructed – going down the patient route of fishing out all the prime white meat and adding it to the main shell of brown meat to mix together and spread on the bread. Eventually, it was time. And it was worth it: full and flavoursome and tender.

The main event might have been over but we weren't done there, resting happily surveying our kingdom (and almost seriously considering ordering another portion of the scallops as another sizzling pot of temptation was served as a main course at the bar downstairs) Shaggy returned cheerfully clearing up our mess and doing the usually waiter chat of trying to tempt us with one more course. He needn't have worried we were sold: affogato and a special of chocolate tart. 'And maybe some coffee afterward?' Oh, yes, two macchiatos. Shaggy trotted downstairs happy.

Both majored on creamy, seed-flecked vanilla ice-cream and rounded off the feast nicely although not spectacularly. Time for the bill, which was the biggest treat - £90. I'm sure you'd agree: an absolute bargain. And only four and a half hours on the train from London. Get there fast.

Crabshakk
1114 Argyle St
Finnieston
Glasgow
G3 8TD
0141 334 6127
http://www.crabshakk.com/

Food and fields: Gastro-nbury

2010-07-04T16:49:00.001+01:00

It's been a while, eh? Sorry about that. I've been away at Glastonbury drinking cider in the sun, Devon eating fish in the rain and, erm, getting getting engaged to Choux Boy, which, it turns out, is a rather time consuming business - so many people to tell, so many glass of champagne to drink. But anyway, back to the food...

Eating outdoors in Britain - I bet you are thinking one thing: picnics. Sandwiches and tartan rugs, Pimms and cold cocktail sausages, or if we are really getting fancy here some salads in Tupperware boxes. But no, I’m talking street food. Street food in this country (and we’re not talking Borough Market here, which is about as street as D-Cam chatting up some hoodies) gets a bad rap. Burger vans and pies is what springs to mind; appetising it ain’t. So when I say ‘festival food’, you are probably going to shudder. This is what you are thinking right:

Or some sweltering nachos, greasy chow mien or one of those giant soggy Yorkshire puds with a lone sausage swimming in watery gravy. Yes, I’ve just got back from Glastonbury, and yes they were all there. But there is good stuff to be found, just I wonder, why not more? Taste showed us what you can whip up in park in London, why not in a field in Somerset. Ok, so the clientele of Glastonbury aren’t quite the pasta-maker-owning bunch who go to Taste, but it doesn’t mean we have none.

As anyone who has even caught a wiff of Glastonbury will know, Somerset is famous for it's cider, and it's not in short supply. But slap bang in the farmlands of the west country good fresh food is in no short supply. And if you look beyond the burger vans and the kebabs there is plenty of goodness to be found. At the first Glastonbury 40 years ago they gave away free milk, fortunately the food options have expanded a bit since then.

For fresh and healthy the hippy veganess of the Green Fields has to be the first stop on the Gastro-nbury tour (from 2009 memory try the Thali Cafe - food at Glastonbury is usually easily judged by the queue size and this is no exception). Hummus is in no short supply, along with vegetarian curries, home-made falafel and a few, uhum, special-looking brownies...

But you're not at Glastonbury for the health are you. Beyond that there is everything you can imagine and more. Sushi and wasabi peas in the Park followed by delicious mascapone, fig and honey Somerset ice-cream from Mendip Moments.

On to chunky sausages in white wine gravy and tartiflette at La Grande Bouffe washed down with a glass of Lanson champagne (don't deprive me of my glass of bubbles) at Queen's Head.

Venison burgers, hog roast with chunky apple chutney, organic bread, jerk chicken, cream teas, more hummus - with hundreds of stalls to choose from it is easy to dine around the world and, with a bit of a hunt (steer clear of most of the options near the main stages), well. And be well stuffed too. Music? What music?

Rebel Rebel: The Rebel Dining Society Pernod Absinthe Green Hour

2010-06-20T22:44:00.004+01:00

I hate to admit being late to jump on the latest trend, but the whole underground / secret / pop-up dining scene completely passed me by. Now, I'm going to blame leaving East London just as every man and their culinary-inclined dog was opening up their sitting rooms. But that's just a lie. I even helped my TV researcher Bethnal Green flatmate trawl Spitalfields for people for her oh-so-on-the-moment show 'Restaurant in your Home,' and that was well before I crossed the river. I think I was rather British about it all: 'Going to someone's house you don't know to eat? Oh no, I'm not too sure about that...' But enough excuses.

So on Wednesday I was invited to a pop-up/secret/underground night hosted by The Rebel Dining Society. And guess what? It was in East London, and it wasn't even in someone's house.

The evening was called The Pernod Absinthe Green Hour. According to their website The Rebel Dining Society 'welcomes all those who are looking for a fresh and unique dining experience and our passion for food, art and music is the driving force behind our desire to push the boundaries of fine dining'. Though by Thursday it was probably more accurate to call it The Rebel Drinking Society, but that wasn't entirely their fault. It was the absinthe's. And no it's not illegal.

Choux Boy and I arrived at Hoxton Square greeted by absinthe cocktails and a mixture of Shoreditch types and some slightly lost-looking bankers. Told to drink until we would be seated at the long tressle tables in the main gallery, we followed our instructions to the letter. Absinthe is the stuff of legend and lethal strength: 68% proof and with a strong aniseed flavour it's not a shy spirit. In the spirit of research of course we tried all the cocktails - the distinctive flavour drowned the French Kiss and Mojito but the sweet Paris Citronne was a big hit. The Boy wavered between worrying about the Thursday hangover and worrying about that there wouldn't be enough drink with dinner - 'Filo what if it's like a wedding and they only budget half a bottle per head and then what if everyone else wants red too? I think we should have another cocktail just in case.' So we did.

Seated and swaying slightly, the art element of the evening (recreating Trafalgar Square - see Nelson's Column pige-fied below) was the ice breaker. A Shoreditch media couple (naturally), a freelance everything (journalist/PR/stylist), and a pair of Spanish girls who knew 'Shay' (a founding Rebels) set to work introducing themselved and cutting out their pigeons. I rapidly lost the interest of the Spaniards to the so-trendy-I-can-pull-off-a-full-on-moustache arty type next to me, and the Boy to deep concentration on his 'ravey' pigeon (bottom with the neon yellow 'string vest' on the left of the Column), so my mind turned to the food and not cutting my finger off using my safety scissors under the influence...

Four absinthe cocktails and a glass of wine down, the shot glass of green liquid fortunately wasn't absinthe based. But a tasty shot-o-soup alongside the light beany stew. The flavour and food was great but didn't make any hangover-reducing dent in the pool of absinthe in my stomach. And before my body got weaned back onto solids there was the Green Hour's take on the amuse bouche - er, absinthe. Straight. Out came towers of ice water, cut crystal glasses of vivid green absinthe and a man in a top hat and cravat. Time for the 'Absinthe Ritual'. Dripping the water through our sugar cube balance on a intricately decorated spoon, we were told of the drink's bohemian history - invented by Dr Ordinaire (Dr Ordinary, love it), Picasso and Van Gogh were fans, the creativdes' 5pm 'Green Hour' in late 19th century Paris - it's 'all about the love, the patience and the poetry of the drink'. Given that this was our fifth glass of the stuff we were easily sold.

Luckily before the Green Fairy cast her spell and I lost the ability to use my tastebuds our delicious rabbit two ways main arrived backed by The Roundhouse Experimental Choir, who were sadly almost drowned out by 120 absinthed-up diners grabbing plates and cutlery.

Somewhere between the rabbit and the two desserts I started seriously discussing getting my boobs painted in the Nevada desert (Burning Man Festival) with freelance-everything girl and I knew it was probably bus time. As the Boy and I staggered towards the 344 feeling like naughty children for being drunk and up past our bedtime on a school night, we decided we'd have to do this again. The food was delicious, the drinks not just flowing but gushing, the company interesting and four hours had passed in a blink of the green fairy's eye, plus we felt ever so slightly smug, like the rebellious cool kids had asked us to sit at their table in the lunchroom.

With The Rebel Dining Society hosting four more dinners with Pernod Absinthe and only £15 a ticket it's a bargain and an adventure - just make sure you bring some spare change for the bagel shop on the way home.

For more information see http://therebeldiningsociety.co.uk/

Steak it to him The BBBBL (Boy's Big Boozy Birthday Lunch) - Santa Maria del Sur

2010-06-13T18:19:00.006+01:00

Like most of the important dates in our relationship, Choux Boy's birthday revolves around eating. What are presents but mere things when I could give the him the gift of really great food? Ok, that's bollocks, treating him to a great meal is actually a rather tasty excuse for me to birthday benefit as well, after all I don't think the watch I bought him would fit my wrist too well...

So after eye-ing it up for months, I booked us a table for Sunday at Santa Maria del Sur on Queenstown Road. Even weeks before the big date they only had mid-afternoon tables left (a good sign surely?) so I plumped for 2.30pm (it was a Sunday after all, it was made for lunching) and the Boy's Big Boozy Birthday Lunch (BBBBL) was born.

Not that that was the start of his gastronomic celebration. Oh no. With a lunch so late there was plenty of time for brunch (the BLBBB - Boy's Little Boozy Birthday Brunch - if you will) Champagne, fresh orange juice and Bacon and Parsley Hotcakes (delicious, easy recipe - I added an extra slice of fried bacon to the stack under the poached egg for good measure - well it was his birthday after all - plus a bit of tabasco to give it a kick) set us up nicely.

You don't go to Santa Maria del Sur if you don't want to eat steak. The whole place revolves around the simplicity of serving really great steak. Plain wooden tables and chairs packed together and exposed brickwork do nothing to detract from the big open kitchen with a huge adjustable grill in the window. The menu is steak. There's few distractions. Starters of morcilla, chorizo, serano ham or, if you're not quite ready for the meat, grilled tuna steak. Sides of chips or salads. Variety is not the spice of Santa. But who cares, you only came for the steak anyway didn't you? The wine list, like the beef, is born and raised Argentinian. We opt for a smooth Séptimo Día - Cabernet Sauvignon 2005 - Luján de Cuyo (a choice that prompted the owner to bring us proper red wine glasses 'you need good glasses for good wine' which had the Boy's chest puff a little with his wine choosing prowess) and starters of grilled provolone cheese (which is just cheese, grilled, a lot of it) and serrano ham with palm hearts and mayo sauce. All well and good but nothing special.

It was time for the special. It was time for the steak. They range from 8oz to pound of prime Argentinian beef; rump, rib-eye, fillet or sirloin. The quest for the perfect steak has a almost cultish appeal. It's got a seductive blend of exclusivity, primal carnivorousness and sheer simplicity. It's cow, killed, grilled, on the plate. But what makes one steak great? Who knows. Is the meat, the cooking, the occasion? Well, we ticked all three. Two 8oz sirloins, medium rare.

Gorgeously charred on the outside, baby soft pink on the inside. Moist and packed with flavour. Simplicity as it should be: a handful of salad on the side, a grilled pepper on top. Fat, fluffy chips and a couple of sauces on the side: tomato and onion salsa and mustard and white wine. It didn't need it but it didn't hurt. 'I think this is the best steak I've ever eaten,' says the Boy. That's the idea. Now I knew what all the fuss was about.

Like all good things it had to come to an end and we emerged from our red mist of fine meat and juicy wine back into the Battersea sunshine. Stuffed. Well, not quite stuffed... you see up the road from Santa Maria del Sur is another great Battersea international import: Italian Gelateria Danieli. Raspberry Ripple and the creamiest Strawberry can-you-even-call-it-sorbet ever in a proper biscuit cone was my final treat. And it wasn't even my birthday...

Santa Maria del Sur

129 Queenstown Road

Battersea

SW8 3RH

020 7622 2088

http://www.santamariadelsur.co.uk/

Gelateria Danieli

47 Queenstown Road

Battersea

SW8 3RX

http://www.gelateriadanieli.com/

Beef it up: Mango, avocado and steak salad

2010-06-03T21:32:00.005+01:00

Looking at me today eating, well, anything that doesn't still have a pulse, you'd never know how much of a fussy eater I once was. Bananas? No, funny texture. Apple crumble? Ew, hot fruit. Red meat? Yuck, chewy (my ten-year-old self had a bit of a thing about BSE). It caused many dinner time row and almost a whole primary school career of no lunchtime playtime as I was forced to stay behind in the dinner hall eating rice pudding grain by grain in protest until that bell rang. So fruit in a salad with red meat would have never passed my tight lipped seal of approval, but trust me it's a winner and the perfect summer combo.

I ripped Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's mango, avocado and beef salad out the Guardian Weekend back in February... the lush red, yellow and green photography almost had me stuffing the page in my mouth. Rolling it out again this week for the second time with the sun shining, it really hit its stride.

Mango, avocado and steak salad

(serves 4)

For the marinade

2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped

1tbsp oyster sauce

1tbsp dry sherry

2tsp soy sauce

1tsp light muscovado sugar

1tsp grated frsh ginger

black pepper

For the salad

350g sirloin or filllet steak

1 large, ripe mango (or if you are a cheater like me, 2/3 a pre-prepped pack)

1 large, ripe avocado

2-3 hanfuls rocket leaves

1 small bunch coriander

For the dressing

2tbsp Thai fish sauce

1tbsp sesame oil

juice 1 lime

1tbsp soy sauce

1tsp light muscovado sugar

1 small chilli, deseeded and finely chopped

1 clove of garlic, finely minced

salt and pepper

Mix all ingredients for the marinade, add steaks and rub it up and leave for 30mins to 1 hour.

Mix together the ingredients for the dressing, slice mango and avocado.

Heat a griddle pan til smoking (does anyone else hear Jim Carrey in the Mask when they see that in recipes?). Sear the steak 2-4minutes per side to taste and thickness, you can probably take it a bit rarer than usually as it make the salad more tender and light. You want it crispy, BBQ style on the outside and gorgeously pink on the inside. Leave to rest for 5 minutes while you arrange rocket, mango and avocado on plates. Top with beef, scatter with coriander and dress. Mmmmmm...

Eat local, live longer! (Ok I made up the last bit...)

2010-06-02T14:28:00.002+01:00

So with Choux Boy's birthday rolling up this Sunday it means I'm thinking about one thing: no not presents, food. Brunch, cake, dinner: what is a girl to do? Well take a hint is a good start and the Boy want meat. So we're off to check out Santa Maria del Sur up the road in Battersea to gorge ourselves on red meat and red wine all afternoon... a rosy review to follow natch. But in the meantime, to whet your South London eating appetite here's a few choice bites reviewed for the lovely people at Heaver magazine... check out your delivered copy for more if you live in SW (blatant plug).

Lamberts, Balham (SW12)
A bastion for great British produce, Lamberts prides itself on the quality of its ingredients. With seasonality and sourcing top of the agenda, everything on the monthly-changing menu is British from land or sea. There’s no pretence in the understated taupe decor and that ethos applies to the expertly executed dishes as well – chunky chicken and pork terrine with homemade bread and chutneys on wooden slabs, game of the day (‘pheasant, but it’s probably the last of it’ notes owner Joe Lambert who passes on his knowledge and enthusiasm for the food as he serves tables) fresh with shot and thyme potatoes. With food this good, the midweek set menu (Tuesday to Thursday) two courses or £17, three for £20, has to be the best bargain in London.

Lamberts
2 Station Parade
Balham High Road
SW12 9AZ
020 8675 2233
http://www.lambertsrestaurant.co.uk/

Lola Roja, Battersea and Fulham
(SW11 and SW6)
As close as you’ll get to modern Spanish cuisine without swapping SW for Espana, the popularity of Lola Roja’s table-packed Battersea original saw it branch out last year, opening a second restaurant over the river in Fulham. Recently named Time Out’s best Spanish restaurant, the flavours are classic (chorizo, calamari and croquettes naturally make an appearance) but created with contemporary style – chive foam with the calamari and delicately-flavoured light croquettes make way for melt-in-the-mouth suckling pig with apple puree. The wine list too is a showcase for Spanish flair inviting you to explore bottles grouped under tempting titles: ‘The zenith - elegant, refined and fabulous’ and ‘Brooding, intense and delicious – wines to linger over’. But leave room for dessert – the white chocolate soup with mango ice cream is worth a little lingering for.

Lola Roja
78 Northcote Road
London,
SW11 6QL
020 7350 2262

140 Wandsworth Bridge Road
London,
SW6 2UL
020 7371 8392
http://www.lolaroja.net/

Four O Nine, Clapham (SW9)
Everyone loves a secret, but Four O Nine is one you’ll want to share, at least with that special someone. A buzzer marks the discreet entrance across from Clapham North tube: press and give the codeword (ok, your name) to be granted entry. A concrete stairwell and deserted roof garden lead to a candle-lit dining room, it’s no surprise that is was voted the most romantic dining room in London by a national newspaper when it opened in 2006. Food is Anglo-French fare with an inventive twist – the obligatory foie gras starter is given a tangy twist with pineapple and macadamia nut chutney, while mains are minus the usual French richness so you don’t have to feel guilty about that extra dessert cocktail from the well-stocked speak-easy style bar.

Four O Nine
409 Clapham Road
London
SW9 9BT
020 7737 0722
http://www.fouronine.co.uk/

Eat, pray... nah, stuff that, just EAT: Bali

2010-05-25T21:17:00.004+01:00

In my travelling tummy experience often the best meal you’ll eat in a country is the simplest. Goo-y creamy mozzerella and you-can-still-taste-the-green-of-the-vine tomatoes in Rome, a bowl of steaming fresh mussels in white wine and skinny just-crisp-enough frites in Bruges, a so buttery-it’s-almost-melting warm croissant fresh from the boulangerie in Paris (not forgetting the Malboro Red on the side – there’s a reason why those French women are so skinny). Well, in Bali it was noodles, fried noodles. I was obsessed.

My new obsession ‘mie goreng’ literally means ‘fried noodles’- that’s it. Although, like its closely related counterpart ‘nasi goreng’ aka, you guessed it, ‘fried rice’, it was rather more than that. My Lonely Planet Bali and Lombok described it as ‘fried noodles with mixed goodies’ but like all the best recipes it depends on the chef. At the core is noodles fried in a piping hot wok with vegetables and a sweet soy spicy sauce, some warungs (roadside food stall-cum-restaurant) would add a fried egg or omelette on top and a variety of crackers – prawn, peanut, vegetable – on the side. Sometimes it’d be with pork, sometimes with chicken, sometimes just plain and simple but always great, and even better, less than £2. I’m sure there is usually shit-loads of MSG in it... uhum, sorry yes we’re calling it umami now. But who cares I was hooked.

We arrived in Bali at night after a long, long, long flight, thrust blinking into the humid darkness and then the bustle of the airport immigration hall. There was a small smiling Balinese man holding a sign with my and Choux Boy’s names, confused looking queues for visas and huge signs about the death penalty for drug dealers everywhere. Not that that was really an issue... I was there ‘officially’ to review some hotels and write about Eat, Pray, Love; unofficially, as always, I was there to eat, eat, eat.

First stop: Jimbaran Bay in South Bali and fortunately, given we hadn’t seen a bed in over 24 hours, only 15 minutes from the airport. Jimbaran Bay, I’d cribbed up from the Lonely Planet, which came to be known as ‘the bible’, is famous with locals and tourists alike for its string of seafood warungs that run the length of its golden arc. From lunchtime you can smell the smoky, salty smell of barbequing fish hauled from the colourful wooden fishing boats that dot the sea if you are up early enough to the ramshackle fish market at the north end of the bay. After sunset the tables stretch down the sand to replace the lapping waves as the tide retreats and candles ripple through the smoke.

The Boy turns from Choux Boy to Action Man on holidays. And he was a man with a plan for Bali – surfing, bodyboarding, sailing, snorkelling, scuba diving were all on our activity agenda. I was a little bit afraid. So day two and cooking school was perfect – an activity and I didn’t even need to get wet. Plus I get to ask a million questions about Balinese food, double win. This was the discovery of mie goreng, this was the start of the trip’s obsession. We start at 8am with a trip to the fish and produce market. The average Balinese day starts well before sunrise at around 4 or 5am with a trip to the market (which opens at 2am!) to get food for the day – no fridges equals daily trips. There was everything crabs, sardines, sharks, mullet all from the bay. Woven baskets full were bought and strung onto thick bamboo poles between two men to be run along the bay to a warung.

Most of Balinese cooking, we’re told, revolves around the key roots: galangal, turmeric and ginger which are on sale everywhere in the produce market along with chillis, Balinese limes (smaller and sweeter), bunches of Thai basil...

But on to the Mie Goreng...

Mie Goreng
courtesy of Wayan Suratha head chef of Warung Mie at Four Seasons Jimbaran Bay (and the Four Seasons Cooking School – hence the rather precise measurements and obsession with julienning)

100g boiled fresh noodles
5g chopped garlic cloves
10g red chilli – julienned
25g carrot – julienned
10g spring onions – julienned
40g chopped onion
10g Napa cabbage
8g sliced leeks
1 tsp fish sauce
1 tsp light soy sauce
1 tsp sweet soya sauce
3 tsp oyster sauce
1 tsp Chinese wine
½ tsp sesame oil
1 tsp chilli sauce
1 tsp white pepper

To garnish
25g of sliced omelette
5g fried shallots

Heat up the wok and pour in oil. Add garlic and fry for 3 seconds before adding onions, napa cabbage, leek, red chilli, carrot, spring onions. Pour in fish sauce, soy sauce, sweet soya sauce, oyster sauce, Chinese wine, chilli sauce and seasame oil. Add noodles and toss well. Check seasoning. Serve topped with omelette and shallots with crackers.

After Jimbaran Bay we travel round the coast and away from the crowd to East Bali and Amankila. And my second Balinese obsession ‘salak’ fruit (don’t worry I was acquiring, not cheating on my food obsessions, I was still having mie goreng for lunch almost every day). I was immediately drawn to it because of its skin. It looks and feel exactly like snakeskin (how long would it last fashioned into a bracelet before I started smelling of rotting fruit I wondered...) The skin is thin and easily peeled away in satisfying strips to reveal the knobbles of the three of four segments of fruit beneath. Good ones were sweet, not juicy but crunched a bit like an apple. The best one I eat was off the basket on the head of a Balinese woman during a hike near the small village of Wates. Our guide Kawit said they were the best in all of Bali...

Goodbye to the mountainous jungle of East Bali, a speedboat and it is replaced by the flat, sand-circled tiny paradise isles of the Gili Islands. Gili Meno, Gili Air and Gili Trawangen, our home in an unairconditioned beach shack for the next five days – which in turn was home to some of the best banana pancakes I have ever eaten, but maybe everything tastes better in the sunshine.

In an island that you can walk around in two hours it will come as no surprise that on this leg the obsession was fish. Fresh, simple, barbequed fish. Sat cross-legged in a thatched-roofed, cushioned balé, large Bintang beer, grilled snapper – there’s not much else I could have asked for, well air-con in the beach shack...

Speedboat, minibus, Ubud. The cultural heart of Bali, but I was still thinking with my stomach. Across from our haven of a hotel, Uma Ubud, a smoking, tin shack with Nuri’s painted in huge white letters on the corregated roof.

(Inside Nuri's: Eat, Pray, Love - Tongue, in, cheek)

It looks slightly like it belongs in a war zone. The infamous Naughty Nuri’s. You’ve got to try the BBQ ribs, and lethal martinis.

Of course, we did. But they never quite beat...

(Nuri's Mie Goreng - me liking)

Beanz Meanz Heinz

2010-05-16T21:22:00.002+01:00

‘You work too hard, you are very tense’

Somehow I don’t think my spa therapist is right right now. I’m lying being scrubbed by sand flown in from St Barts in a treatment room that looks like the VIP room in a flashy nightclub: all low lighting, fibre-optic trim and mirrors, everywhere. Every time I open my eyes I catch sight of my semi-naked sandy flesh. I close my eyes, tight, well I supposed I did get up at 3.15am to meet four journalists I’d never met before and board an ash-free BA flight to Leonardo da Vinci-Fiumicino Airport. Yes, I was back to Italy. And it was the lure of three Michelin-star dining that got me here.

The Rome Cavalieri is much like the rest of the inhabitants of the city of seven hills: good looking, a bit flash and swaggering with confidence. Oh and like the city itself there are artefacts everywhere. Perched on one of the hills overlooking the Vatican City, it is a church for the worships of beautiful things. Warhol’s, works of Italian masters and Louis XV furniture are crammed in every square inch of lobby, suites and corridors. Everything is superlative: the most expensive spa treatment (it involves a 600 euro pot of platinum), the most impressive views (well it does have one of the seven hills spots) and the best restaurant in Rome. Five week waiting lists (a year for the terrace in summer), a water menu longer than some wine lists and three Michelin stars. It’s the only three Michelin star restaurant in Italy, let alone Rome. According to the guide that means it is ‘worth a special journey’. We’ve made a special journey.

I have to pinch myself. For the second time in as many weeks I’m at the hungry end of a gourmet tasting menu. The previous twenty four hours have been equally surreal: sat on Karl Lagerfeld’s sofa (ok, so he sold it but it’s still his, his bottom has been there), coffee in the palatial apartment of an Italian princess, met a man who makes leather jackets for President Mugabe (in exchange for snakeskins it appears) and took a cracking swing at a polo lesson. I’m living someone else’s life. A very rich Roman’s life.

The restaurant in question, La Pergola, sits in all its opulent glory on the top of the Cavalieri presided over by German Heinz Beck. The neighbouring Penthouse suite, a favourite of George Clooney, Leonardo DiCaprio, Julia Roberts et al (she recently stayed for weeks while filming Eat Pray Love) has a secret back entrance and a pre-reserved private table (for 8,000 euros a night there isn’t a waiting list).

Very serious looking young men scurry about doing a dodging dance as they fluff napkins, swap cutlery and offer me a table for my bag the second it touches the ground. There’s a six course menu, bread appears, butter under a glass dome, the famous water menu (including a Swarovski incrusted number for a whopping 200 euros). One of the young scurriers appears with a trolley dedicated to salt – I opt for the black volcanic one from Hawaii.

Ding ding. Round one – a clam and celery amuse bouche with carrot foam. The carrot foam dissolves the second it touches my lips, it tastes like a carrot breathing into my mouth after a day on the beach. But it works. You knew it was going to work, don’t doubt a master.

Bouche amused, now it was time to really get going: a starter of duck liver terrine with smoked apples almonds and ameretti. Soft, smooth, rich with the kick of smoked apple puree and dusted crust of almonds and ameretti - it ticked every box.

A fresh kick came with the infusion of veal, herbs and Tonka beans with tuna tartare and green tea sorbet. I didn't know it at the time but this was possibly my favourite course, I am a sucker for perfect raw fish, but if the raw fish wasn't enough the little golden nugget of a veal dumpling that was nestling next to it sealed the deal. Plus the cold raw fish/ sorbet v.s hot broth and veal dumpling combo was enough to make my mouth want burst into song.

'Don't stop me now, I'm having such a good time, I'm having a ball...' In comes the pasta course, it's Italy it would be criminal to miss it: ricotta tortellini with pecorino and broad beans.

In at four was Cannolo of scampi and vegetables, olive sauce and tapioca with Campari. I know it is three Michelin star but is it wrong to compare them to the best spring rolls you could ever eat? Italian spring rolls if you will...

Into what could now be described as the 'main course' portion of the meal. It was a game of two parts: opening with black cod with marinated anchovy's vinaigrette and sweet chilli pepper. There was a lot of debate as to what our black shard consisted of - it was fine pastry no doubt but charcoal? Was that a hint of liquorice, a nod to things to come?

And after a short interval: liquorice flavoured shoulder of Iberian suckling pig with herbed potatoes. It tasted like it had been griddled on a pan made of liquorice - the lightest hint of flavour was all it took.

After that all the menu said was 'Grand Dessert'. Grand, n. 1. impressive in size, appearance or general effect 2. stately, majestic or dignified 3. highly ambitious or idealistic 4. magnificent or splendid 5. noble or reverved 6. highest, or very high, in rank 7. main or principal 8. of great importance, distinction or pretension 9. complete or comprehensive 10. pretending to grandeur 11. first rate, very good, splendid. It turns out it was pretty much all of them and it was only just beginning...

First out to set the scene: an amuse of coconut ice cream and mango with a shard of burnt sugar. We were into sweet gear. Then came the tower...

Filled with drawer upon drawer on all sides with petit fours. One between two, 12 drawers, three morsels a drawer - 18 petit fours each. Needless to say I didn't manage it (I could barely manage to pick it up), and especially when I was told the Grand Dessert hadn't even begun...

A flurry of tiny plates - they keep coming down in front of me.

Chocolate and coconut soup, liquorice souffle, baked raspberry almost brulee..

And more come flying over my shoulder.

Champagne jelly with strawberries, frozen coffee with coffee cream, whisky ice cream with crushed biscuits and a dark chocolate finger filled with mousse... I could barely think straight as my spoon dipped from each onto the next (or could that be from the dessert wine that was now flowing). It hit the spot - light and rich, warm and cold... every sensation, every texture, it was very very grand. And we were there... the end of the meal. What a meal. And, for a tasting menu, it was refreshingly light. The man himself came round from table to table as we drank our freshly snipped herbal tea.

The secret? 'Chefs who have secrets don't have creativity'. He revealed that he'd studied insulin oscillation, his was 'a light kitchen of Mediterranean flavours' - there was no reason that gourmet food couldn't be good for you. I'll eat to that Heinz.

Plenty of Otto love

2010-04-21T19:41:00.001+01:00

Hello my name is Filo and I'm a cookbook addict. I can't help myself. The pretty pictures, the promise of new and exciting meals, heading to the shops little scribbled list in hand to hunt out new spices and ingredients... I've run out of space for new ones. I had to buy a new bookcase. Some are, I hate to admit, hardly cooked from. Others well splattered and pretty much cooked out: Gordon Ramsay Cooking for Friends, and my favourite.... Ottolenghi: The Cookbook. Ok, so the baking section is pretty much prisine but the meat, the fish and, sigh, the salads have seen me from lunchbox to dinner party.

So, how excited was I when The Guardian (they know that Otto readers are their prime market) ran an extract from his new book Plenty this weekend? I admit, I gave a little squeal in the newsagent. Choux Boy looked at me oddly. The newsagent looked at me even more oddly. I dropped my change. I was hopping with excitement, hopping right into the kitchen. So first up on a sunny Sunday night:

We didn't have quite enough tumeric/saffron to get that intense sunny yellowy glow, but washed down with a couple of bottles of Waitrose English cider it just tasted of pure undiluted summer. Otto that wasn't Plenty at all: must shop, must Amazon, must... buy... new... cook...book.

Rolling with the brunches

2010-04-20T20:17:00.003+01:00

Sunshine + weekend = only one thing, lazy brunches. Well, before Pimms in the park. And thanks to the lovely people at Heaver magazine I was out and about in the depths of sunny south west London reviewing brunches... how very well timed. Reviews to come with their summer issue but for now, in pictures...

Friday - Eggs Benedict

The French Cafe

16-18 Rittherdon Road
Balham

SW17 8QD

020 8767 2660
http://www.the-french-cafe.co.uk/

Saturday - A Classic fry-up with a twist

Doukan

350 Old York Road

Wandsworth

SW18 1SS

020 8870 8280

http://www.doukan.co.uk/

Sunday - The Fishy One

Schmidt's

2 Rookery Road

Clapham Common

SW4 9DD

020 7720 7787

http://www.schmidtsrestaurant.co.uk/

Dining on Cloud Nine

2010-04-19T22:19:00.007+01:00

‘I don’t think I’ve tasted olive oil until this weekend’

Choux Boy’s right. Somehow we find ourselves at the beginning of an eight course tasting menu (well nine we decided it was equivalent to if you counted the olive oil course and petit fours as half a course each) at Castel Monastero in the Tuscan Hills. I’d asked Antonio, the maitre d’, what he’d recommend from the menu. Let me hold it right here and explain something now. Sometimes in my day job I get to go and review 'honeymoon' hotels. Sometimes, I just maaaay make sure these are foodie. And sometimes, just sometimes I hope that we will be offered a tasting menu at one of these stupendously-more-luxurious-than-I-could-ever-afford hotels/restaurants. Well a girl can dream. Dream with her stomach... Don't hate me.

‘Well why don’t we sample? We could do a little of the, ah, salt cod, then, maybe you like to try the polenta, then we maybe do something different each... the saffron risotto with lamb ragout and the veal tortellini...’

Thank you thank you thank you thank you god.

‘... Then do you like fish? How about we do one bream and one meat.’

The Boy had been eyeing up the rabbit confit.

‘Or we could do a main course of the rabbit confit?’

Antonio, this gets better every second.

‘And maybe we could taste some wines together to go with the food?’

Antonio, I think I love you.

But back to the olive oil, we kick off this adventure with the olive oil. Now I’ve always been a fan of the bread and oil and balsamic instead of bread and butter routine (call me pretentious or call me weird) but different types of oil, and olive oil sommeliers? It’s very like tasting wine, we discuss the types of olives, a single olive oil or a blend of olive type, where the olives were grown, the method they were pressed by, the colour, the smell, the taste and the aftertaste. He knows his stuff.

First up a Terre di Siena (a D.O.C) made very near where we were staying and from three types of olive (in the middle of the picture). We were told to look out for the flavours of artichoke and green tomatoes and the distinctly green tinge. Next a Chianti Classico (bottom), made from one type of olive, this was stronger and spicier with the scent and flavour of fresh herbs and a peppery aftertaste. Lastly one called Locanda Rosso (top). This time a blend of two olives which are grown further north by the sea so you could taste the saltiness.

I hadn’t even managed to go 1,2,3 in a lingering fashion before our appetizer arrived: a salad of pecorino cheese, roasted tomatoes, confit duck, olives and pearl barley.

Next up salt cod with a tomato elixir and olive oil foam (though how they get olive oil to ‘foam’ is beyond my culinary imagination) And after a brut rose from Franciacorta to whet our wine appetite, with Antonio’s direction we moved on to a clean, fresh white with the salt cod.

Starters round two and it was potato polenta and ‘pecorino di fossa’ and duck ham. To cut through those hefty flavours, Antonio plumped for a Vernaccia di San Gimignano.

Time for the traditional middle pasta course. This is one of my favourite things about dining in Italy – four courses as standard. I admit, I'm a glutton. And Antonio hasn’t let us down with his selection a creamy saffron risotto, not too light, not to heavy, topped with lamb ragout plus my absolute favourite part of the meal so far: melt in the mouth morsels of veal tortellini served with a smear of creamed cauliflower.

Wine change mark four for the main – and to straddle the needs of my light fish and the Boy’s rich confit rabbit leg we have a light and punchy Brunello di Montalcino 2003. The fresh bream comes with a tomato crumble, fennel and dots of aubergine cream – light and bright flavours that are the perfect complement.

We’re pretty full, but nowhere near defeated in our quest to taste every last bit of Tuscany. Round, where are we now, five, six? Cheese. All pecorino – 18 weeks, 24 weeks and 38 weeks. Served with fig, citrus and red berry jams/chutneys plus white honey. Plus not one but two wines – a sweet from Umbria (Antinori produced Muffato della Sala) and a classic Chianti. I love the tender almost rubbery 18 week cheese. I love all of them. I have to stop myself from eating myself into a cheese coma.

A pause... and then a plate. A sliver of pistachio parfait and a Chinese gooseberry.

Mmmm. But that’s not even dessert. More sweet wine? Yes, please. The real thing is here. For me, a hazelnut tower and pistachio ice cream. Nutty crunchy creamy heaven. The Boy gets three tiny espresso cups housing tiramisu three ways – classic, with cherries and with amoretti biscuits instead of sponge.

We’re done, well, a couple of macchiatos and petit fours? Oh go on then, in for a penny in for the pounds. And after three hours, nine courses and six wines we were done. Thank you Antonio. Thank you.

If you can get yourself there dear reader do say hello to Antonio. Say hello very nicely...

A taster of Tuscany

2010-04-12T20:52:00.003+01:00

Nine courses, Chianti, gelato and fast cars. Under Tuscan sun (and rain). Full post to come but for now... tuck in.

A room with a view

A midnight snack

Milling about Siena

Ice, ice baby

Food, glorious food

Pizza: thin, crispy, perfect

The wine list

Beef carpaccio and artichoke

And that's just for starters. Your main course will be out shortly...

Out of Africa

2010-04-07T22:48:00.009+01:00

In this old cultural-melting pot that is London, even in this yummy mummy corner of South West London, you can eat the world without even leaving your postcode. I mean within walking distance on my flat you have French, Indian, Morrocan, Thai, Vietnamese, Spanish, Caribbean, Italian, er... Spur Native American Steak and Grill. Some world cuisines are always going to get the star billing (ol' Michelin fav French) or the mass vote (anything with batter or MSG) but what about the more obscure? Hello South Africa.

As I've mentioned before I love a trip I do. But usually it is my stomach that leads me. This time however the draw of animals, and not just the ones on my plate, was to strong to resist: safari.

Don't worry this isn't going to be a checklist of which animals I saw. I was quickly back to the game plan: food. South African and African food in general, sidestepping the North African tagine-fest, is oft overlooked, hitting the news more often for the lack of, rather than the quality of the produce. You might argue that there are bigger concerns. My hosts &Beyond at Phinda has a policy of conserving the people, the wildlife and the land. So during our time there we visited the work of the &Beyond Foundation - the school, where some children walk two hours each way to attend; the clinic treating a population where around a third of the population is infected with HIV - you can see how gastronomy isn't top of the list. But that doesn't mean there isn't a passion for food. Good, simple, local food. Pineapples sold at the side of the road by the people who picked them. Local game. Juicy avocados. There's nothing quite like eating fresh food outside.

Our lodge The Homestead was readily homely with its 'interactive kitchen' (aka walk in help yourself or nosy around) and chef, the lovely and local, Faith Gina.

The lodge itself was insanely beautiful.

However, the thing they don't tell you about safari is that you have to get up at 5.30 in the morning. After 12 hours on a full overnight flight from London with only THIS for company...

... I was going to need some convincing. First up perfect Faith steak for dinner (she told me it was marinated for three hours in soy sauce, wholegrain mustard, worcester sauce and red wine) and me and my fellow journos were packed off to bed happy tummed. Mornings, if you can call 5.30am morning, started with African coffee, 'crunchies' (oaty flapjacky biscuits) and South African rusks. A few animals later and it was time for a bush breakfast picnic. Now this was almost worth the 5.30 start. Animals? Oh yeah those too...

Give that boy a pineapple.

But, you're thinking, what about the South African food? Apart from biltong (for those not familar - it's a dried meat snack kind of like beef jerky to Americans) I was after some local flavour and Faith agreed to rustle me up some things to try. Unfortunately this was the precise point I started to feel ill, very ill. Thank you Malarone (my not so friendly anti-malarials).

Now I'm not one to let a little vomiting to stand in the way of gastronomic discovery. I'm made of sterner, and greedier, stock than that. Oh no, throwing up in the bush behind a landrover, oh yes, that classy, was a mere temporary setback. However, my stomach had also shrunk to about the size of a crum of biltong... and it was a South African feast.

Morogo - a kind of South African spinach, fried with onion, chunky peanut butter and tomato

Pap - a starchy blend of cornmeal which is pretty tastless but served with everything and especially...

Tomato and onion sauce...

and roasted butternut squash

Oh and meat, lots of meat...

All together now... yum.

Plus the apparently ubiquitous South African dessert: malva pudding

My biltong-crum tum wasn't quite up to pud but my keen tasters pinpointed it as kind of like sticky toffee pudding.

Biltong crum or no I couldn't leave without a market and, although I decided customs might not appreciate my efforts to transport a bag full of South African chillis back off a 12 hour flight into Heathrow, it was a feast... though just for the eyes this time. They were definitely bigger than my stomach still.

So I had to make do with some salad tossers and my own &Beyond African recipe book... watch out Wandsworth.

Can you keep a secret? The Boy's Chilli Con Carne

2010-03-30T18:39:00.001+01:00

Everyone needs a secret ingredient, a recipe passed down from great great grandmothers or at least something that when cooked and friends 'ooh' and 'ahh' over it and ask what it is that makes it so goooooood you just smile sagely, rub your chin (a beard would help at this moment) and say 'ah that'd be my secret ingredient'.

Everyone has one: Coca Cola, Irn Bru, erm, other people who aren't soft drink companies. I've read many a chef admit their secret ingredient is often ketchup (a damn fine addition to any curry). So if you don't have one, get one. Or at least add a quick dash of something to pretend you do.

The Boy likes to thing his chilli has many, it definitely has many ingredients, often ever evolving, and it does taste damn good. But I've always been rubbish at keeping a secret. So here goes...

Chilli al Pedros
1 packet of mince
1 can canned tomatoes
1 onion
1 cinnamon stick
Pinch coriander seeds
Pinch cumin seeds
Crushed dried chilli
2 cloved of garlic
Grating of nutmeg
About 1 tbsp tomato puree
1 chopped fresh chilli
1 red pepper
Handful of mushrooms
1 beef stock cube
Beer
1 can kidney beans
Grating of dark chocolate

So ok, it's not just one secret ingredient but an ever evolving motley crew of them: the spice belnd, the dark chocolate, the beer, the cinnamon and nutmeg... you never know what he's going to add next. But come or go, whatever it includes it tastes good, and hot.

Kick it off in classic style by frying up the beef mince and garlic. Once it's cooked, put aside and add some tomato puree and mix it up.

Now fry up the onion, red pepper and mushrooms.

Add back the browned mince and the chopped fresh chilli and crack on with the sauce. Bash up the fresh spices with a pestle and mortar or handy Jamie Oliver Flavour Shaker (I admit I'm usually the first person to be skeptical about celebrity chef endorsed kitchen gadgets but this one is a winner, so much easier than grinding away with that pestle). Add the can of chopped tomatoes, beef stock (to reduce simmering time just make it up with enough water to dissolve it) and a good few manly glugs of beer. Turn the heat down to a simmer stir in your spices and add the cinnamon stick.

Simmer for as long as you need to get the right consistency, but at least 15 minutes. Once it is almost there add the drained kidney beans. Right before you serve grate in some dark chocolate and whole nutmeg and serve.

Rice, nachos, sour cream, some great homemade guacamole or salsa. However you do it, just remember, never reveal your secret...

Ice Ice Baby: Freggo-go-go (home delivery ice cream!)

2010-03-18T18:06:00.000Z

Sometimes (well to be honest a lot of the time), I just love my job. And especially when we get delivered tasty treats by PRs (hint, hint). Today, appropriately enough as the sun came out and I stepped out to get my lunch for the first time sans jacket, it was ice cream.

Spoons at the ready we opened the box.

Now it was a little bit confusing as although we had the whole menu, what we didn't have was what was actually in our box. So it was a bit of matching guesswork. The first curious spoon headed straight for the mystery purply one (bottom right).

'It looks like beetroot'

'You can't get beetroot ice cream'

'I had avocado ice cream once. Not good.'

'It definitely tastes like beetroot.'

'But beetroot isn't on the menu.'

'Hmm maybe it could be Malbec and berries.'

'Yes! It tastes like red wine.'

'It tastes like beetroot.'

'It tastes like a hangover.'

The others we worked out were: (top left across) strawberry sobert, dulce de leche, passionfruit sorbet, (bottom left) chocolate and almond and some sort of fruit and cream ice cream.

And the verdict:

A box like this is a hefty £10.95 delivered in London (free delivery in Zone 1 mind) using the Freggo-go-go scooter until 10pm. The original Freggo ice cream 'bar' (they are very insistant that they are not an ice cream palour) is open to a very clubbing-friendly 2am on Fridays and Saturdays. Fancy a Malbec ice cream instead of your usual glass of red come Friday night? I wonder if they can serve it in a wine glass...

Freggo
27-29 Swallow Street
London
W1B 4QR
http://www.freggo.co.uk

Magical Mystery Tour: Pork steaks and sour cream mustard sauce

2010-03-18T12:40:00.002Z

I love how making up recipes is like a mystery. Or more accurately like piecing together the evidence on a crime scene investigation. That crime scene being my fridge come midweek.

Making a mental note (actimel, fat free yogurts, one egg, the old remains of some pâté, some fast wilting thyme and chives, and three quarters of pot of sour cream) I headed to the Sainsbury's at Clapham Junction in hope. You need a lot of hope when you enter the Sainsbury's at Clapham Junction. As with most train station food shops the amount of raw ingredients is minimal (apparently commuters don't cook), so you can never go in with any preconceived ideas of what you are going to make, as odds on they will only have one of the ingredients. It's the magical mystery tour of dinner making. Cut that with that a queue that snakes down almost every spare inch of space in the shop so you cn't actually get to anything, creating your gourmet midweek meal is facing a big challenge.

First stop: do they have any fresh meat left? Fish: hmm it looks a bit dodgy. Chicken: I'm not inspired. Pork! Pork steaks! Only £3! Ok, pork steaks plus fridge contents equals.... Pork with sour cream white wine mustard sauce. Plus classic side: broccoli and new potato crush. Yum.

So with the pork steaks (you could use chops) and about 3/4 small pot sour cream I add:

Handful of new potatoes
Small bunch of thyme
Small head of broccoli
Wholegrain mustard
White wine
5 or 6 shallots

Pop the potatoes on to boil for 20mins while you chop the shallots. Five or six minutes in put on the pork chops and shallots in a frying pan, slosh over some white wine and add some garlic.

The pork steaks need to cook for about 12 or so minutes (turning ever so often), so after about eight add the sour cream, about 1tbsp of wholegrain mustard and some more white wine. Stick on the broccoli now too.

Mix well and let the sauce simmer away while you add some chopped thyme (the best way, I find, to just get the leaves is to hold the sprig of thyme by the chopped off end (bottom) and run your fingers down it to pull off the leaves).

While the sauce is simmering a little bit, prepare the crush (or get a handy sous-chef, the Boy, to do it for you). Drain potatoes and broccoli and put them in the same pan. Add a dollop (about 1/2tbsp aka one dessert spoon) of wholegrain mustard (can't get enough of the stuff tonight - we used Fortnum and Mason's chilli mustard for a bit of an extra kick), salt and pepper and then crush with a fork or masher. Don't go crazy with the masher mind, this is a crush not a mash. Don't pulp your broccoli. Then serve!

PS. For the pun-lovers (and Peter Andre lovers) out there I wanted to call this post 'Mysterious Grill' but sadly I pan-fried the pork...) And... groan.

Just another manic Monday: Morcilla Spanish Omelette

2010-03-15T22:12:00.002Z

Monday is a bit of a cooking void in our house. Another week of work, sigh. Detoxing after a weekend of (probably excessive) alcohol, sigh. And over-eating, sigh. Empty fridge and supermarket fatigue, sigh. It doesn't sound promising.

Everyone needs a cupboard meal. You know the one that is on standby if some shows up, cancels on you or it's just Monday again. To emphasis how much I hate Mondays I have two: risotto and frittata/Spanish omelette. Both fufil the three essential criteria of the cupboard meal:
1. ingredients that are always knocking around the cupboards/ fridge
2. easy adaptation for a multitude of finishing ingredients
3. a high tastiness-of-result to effort-put-in ratio (just in case it's that 'someone has turned up' option)

Risotto: onion, white wine, risotto rice and you're go with whatever veg/ dried mushrooms/ meat you have left over.
Fritatta: potato (of any kind altough I have found new potatoes work best - little so manoeuvrable in the pan plus don't go all fluffy and fall apart when you're cooking), eggs, onion are you're all set with some veg/ham etc

So with some leftover Morcilla from a recent trip to Spain it was Frittatatatatata Monday. To the basics I added:

3 Peppadew peppers (fantastic little fridge friends - spice up all sorts of salads, couscous etc)
1/2 red pepper
small bunch chives
1/2 pack pancetta
2 crushed dried chillis
some cream cheese mixed in the egg mix
sprinkle of smoked paprika

Pre-heat the grill. Mix up 4 eggs, cream cheese and chives and season while you par-boil the potatoes. Fry up the onion, some garlic, slices of potato and add the paprika.

Then add red pepper, morcilla, pancetta and sliced Peppadews. Pour over the egg mix and allow edges to set. The only difficult bit is making sure there is an even distribution of good stuff. No one wants a frittata full of veg while the watch the other person chow down all the meaty goodness...

Then whack under the grill until it rises and turns golden brown.

Voila! Other classic variations include: ham/chorizo plus courgette and a dash of wholegrain mustard in the mix; smoked salmon and spring onion; serano ham, asparagus and feta - the options for leftover goodness are endless.

For the love of Green Tabasco

2010-03-12T11:41:00.000Z

There are some things in life that just make everything better. Waking up and seeing it is sunny, finding that fiver in the pocket of your coat when you put it on for the first time in ages, when the train draws in just as you make it to the platform. And green Tabasco.

I'm a relatively new convert. Its out-there red big brother has been a staple in scrambled eggs for, oh, as long as I've been eating scrambled eggs. When I started going out with The Boy he introduced me to the smoky brown daddy of Tabasco that we hunted out in Selfridges (though I've now discovered that they sell in Waitrose) which gives bacon and chilli a deep down and dirty southern drawl. But green? Green was too wishy-washy and girly for The Boy. Mild? He doesn't do mild (I blame teenage years of smoking for the spice obsession). But I was intrigued. It looked so pretty and green. I started with adding a kick to tuna salads. Nice. On grilled salmon. Goooood. Scrambled eggs. Hmm, good, red is better. But this week, I made my greatest green discovery: broccoli. I never thought to put it on green food! It was a revelation. Steamed tenderstem broccoli, good shake of green Tabasco, grind of pepper. It's all you need. Simple pleasures.

With this awakening I thought about all the other delicious green Tabasco adventures this little bottle might be able to take me on and discovered that those nice people at Tabasco have dedicated a whole webpage to recipes. Top of the list: Toasted Coconut Cake, Double-spiced Pumpkin Cheesecake, Hearty Pork and Parsnip Stew, Cajun Fish Stew and Caribbean Crab Cakes with Pineapple Salsa. I better stock up.

The travelling foodie

2010-03-05T17:03:00.000Z

I'm very lucky that my job takes me to some far-off lands, where usually there is some far-off food to try. Half the joy of travelling for me is the food and wine. The restaurants, the wine tours, the markets, even the supermarkets have new and interesting things to seek out. The food is always greener on the other side.

My most recent trip was to review a hotel in the Costa Blanca. Not exactly a gastronome's heaven you might think but you'd be suprised what you can find. The hotel itself (Barcelo Asia Gardens - all endless infinity pool and lush gardens) was a slightly unbelievable mix of Thailand overlooking Benidorm but with that you got to eat in Spain by lunch and Asia (complete with Indonesian chef) come evening. Plus wine, which if you ever have been to Thailand, you'll know is usually prohibatively expensive what with their luxury tax. The first day we were told by the PR manager to try one of their 'rices' - paella - a local speciality. Unfortunately I was with my mother who is not a seafood kind of woman - the complete opposite of me - but I placated her with the chicken and rabbit 'Valencia' style paella. Goo-y, saffron-y goodness...

Washed down with a bottle of cava, well, we were on holiday.

The Thai, I have to admit, I was skeptical about. Thai food on the Costa Blanca?! But it came up trumps, and was almost as good as I had in Thailand, if a lot less spicy - they went sauce crazy but even the 'spicy' ones (furthest away) barely made my eyes water.

Beef and mixed mushrooms was a success.

But my favourite thing about the trip... a trip to Carrefour! Man the Europeans know how to do supermarkets. Goodbye aisles and aisle of ready meals and Pot Noodles, hello fresh hams, whole aisles of olives, cheeses - heaven. Why can't we go beyond the fish counter tucked away at the back of the Sainsbury's? Sigh. I came away with some chorizo, some whole morcilla, some sliced morcilla, olive tapernade, duck paté and two bottles of Rioja... and still managed to stay within Easyjet's luggage allowance.

Some other gastro-travels:

Le Couvent d’ Hérépian, Languedoc, France

Gorgeous baby-boutique hotel in the South of France - take a trip on Saturday to nearby Pézanas for the Saturday food market, and relaxed chic-eat L'Entre Pots (8, avenue Louis Montagne 04.67.90.00.00) and olive oil factory L'Oulibo.

Mushrooms at the market

Fresh fish and local speciality - mussel (tomato-y) tarts

Snails!

At L'Oulibo - amazing oils, olives and tapenades

L'Albereta, Lombardy, Italy

Michelin-starred family-owned spa hotel - who just happen to also own sparkling wine vineyard Bellavista. Visit local restaurant Dispensa Pani e Vini for modern Italian cuisine (I had the most amazing vivid green soup of basil cream and mozzerella juice with cuttlefish ink rice island topped with raw fish. Bizarre but amazing) or classic La Mongolfiera dei Sodi set in a farmhouse (the Boy had what he described as the most incredible veal fillet he ever tasted there. It was just veal, pan fried. That simply good.) Wash down with plenty, plenty Bellavista (my favourite is the Saten made with 100% Chardonnay)

Bellevista vineyard and wine

Vineyards and bottles outside Dispensa

V (day) tasty...

2010-03-05T15:39:00.000Z

Everyone who has ever started a new relationship knows you don’t want to reveal your hand to early on. The Boy and I went on our first date a week before Valentine’s Day and, well, we all know that ol’ V-day kind of forces the issue. Do you feign notcalance and not risk a date that night? Or go forth early on into the arena of competitive coupledom with restaurants set solely with tables for two, sloppy PDAs and opportunistic street vendors offering (will he or won’t he buy one?) single red roses. It’s a minefield – too romantic and it’s too much too soon, too little and does he give a shit?

So the Boy's tactic was to try and cram as many dates as possible between 6th and 14th February to see if I was worth a V-day date. Evidently I was as he invited me round to his for dinner. I took this as a good sign: a) he cooked and b) he cared enough to cook for me. The rest, as they say, is history – oh, and he cooked salmon, potatoes dauphanoise and tiramisu, I brought love hearts, and we even managed to finish the lot before his banished flatmates returned.

Since then Valentine’s Day for us have always revolved around cooking. And the Boy cooking. So this year in the spirit of equality we decided to split it. The Boy: brunch and starter. Moi: main and dessert. I even decided to throw in some canapés for good measure. I. Could. Not. Wait. Especially when the boy announced he was off to Borough Market on Saturday....

Brunch was Polenta and Wild Boar Prosciutto baked eggs, quite appropriately from Borough Market cookbook. Plus champagne. Of course.

1 tsp unsalted butter
4 slices of thin wild boar prosciutto (can use parma ham)
2 eggs
25g Gruyere
1 tbsp double cream
1 sprig tarragon
2tbsp polenta
1 spring onion
25g Parmesan cheese

Preheat the oven to 170. Grease two ramekins with butter and line with prosciutto – make sure it complete covers the ramekin and make a wee lip over the edge. Crack an egg in each, sprinkle with grated Gruyere and drizzle with double cream. Scatter over tarragon leaves and season. Transfer to roasting tin and fill it with enough hot water to come up to halfway up the side of the ramekins. Bake until the egg whites are set – about 15min. While the eggs are baking, pour 90ml of water in a small saucepan, season and bring to the boil. Gradually whisk in the polenta. Reduce to simmer until thick and creamy, stirring occasionally – about 5-6min. Once at right consistency stir in butter, Parmesan and chopped spring onion (greens and whites). When eggs are set, remove from oven (carefully!) and divide polenta between two plates. Run sharp knife round edge of ramekin and slide out prosciutto wrapped eggs onto the polenta. Delicious. Of course even more so when you’re not cooking and reclining in bed sipping champagne...

Come afternoon and a trip to Sainsbury’s and Waitrose later, canapés are served. Always love a canap me. Blini’s with homemade guacamole and smoked salmon or crème fraiche and salmon caviar. Pretentious, moi?

The Boy’s work was done with escabèche of red mullet (courtesy of Gordon Ramsay's Passion for Seafood) washed down with a very easy-going Alsace Riesling.

Having agonised all Friday (good ol’ four day week) about what to cook, I finally settled on Cod, wrapped in thin slices of crispy potato, crab mash and lobster bisque sauce, served with sapphire, which in all the excitement I forgot to dish up. Ooops.

The cod was wrapped earlier on – potato slices (done with a veg peeler) were pan fried to just short of crisping then wrapped, a few to each fillet, around the fish before heading back into the fridge. The mash simply was fished up with a dressed crab, some cream and lemon juice. The lobster sauce was actually a bit of a cheat – a can of lobster bisque soup pouring in over a sautéd chopped onion and chilli, good slug of brandy, tbsp tomato puree simmered then add couple of diced tomatoes and some chive. Pan fried the potato wrapped cod and serve.

Dessert has never been my fortay so I went for presentation over expertise – Tia Maria and chocolate creams served in cocktail glasses. Which are pretty much just chocolate and cream, oh, and of course Tia Maria.

50g dark chocolate
150ml double cream (plus some more for whipping)
2 tbsp Tia Maria
Cocoa powder (I went for Green & Blacks all round on the chocolate)

Mix cream and Tia Maria in saucepan and bring to the boil. Remove from heat and pour over chocolate (broken in a bowl)

Stir until chocolate melts

Divide between the glasses and cool slightly

Mix some more cream with Tia Maria until slightly thickened and spoon over chocolate mix. Put in the fridge to set (while you cook the main...)

To serve, appropriately, cut a heart in a card and dust with cocoa. Mine was more of a dollop than a dust. According to the boy I should have used a sieve...

Serve with amoretti biscuits... I should have made my own, oh well, maybe next year.

Iv-y been waiting for you: The Ivy restaurant review

2009-10-21T15:40:00.000+01:00

There are some restaurants you go to for the food. And there are some restaurants you go to to go to. I thought The Ivy was the later. But I admit I'm a sucker for the hype and since I had the opportunity to go through some PR pimping (yes wedding magazines do have benefits) / birthday-being / mother visiting brilliant coincidence on Saturday night, I was going to damn well put on some sequins and go.

I have to admit, posh restaurant intimidate me. The door holding, napkin fluffing, bill spiralling out of control in my mind (even if I'm not paying) it's enough to make a girl lose her appetite. Well, almost. Having looked at the menu online as soon as the PR confirmed I could have a table last Monday, I was overwhelmed by the options. The Ivy! I have a table! On a Saturday night! I hadn't even considered the food and I didn't want to let myself down with a bad order.

A bit of a twitter-please-don't-think-I'm-a-pretentious-twat-plea on Saturday got a reply from the lovely Alice (fellow Bride-y) with guidance just in the nick of time: 'Lucky thing! The poulet des landes for 2 is a-mazing, all truffly - the best chicken you'll ever eat. Also good is the steak tartare, tempura and burger, and great creme brulee. Jealous!'

Once through the opened-door, sat at the pulled-out-for-us table and napkins fluffed, I check-out the menu again (while also trying to do a quick celeb scout - I admit it, I'm shallow). There were no celebrities I could see sadly, although there was a lot of moustaches as well and a man with a full on lego-hair wig.

'It says "No mobile phones and no photos",' says the bro.

This blog review could be difficult... iPhone under the palm of my hand at the ready. The Ivy will not outwit me.

First up I went for the Grilled Squid and Chorizo Salad (apologies for the poor quality of the pictures, being a food spy is tough).

Gorgeously tender strips of squid with chorizo, parsely and red cabbage. The brother went for the same, the mother the Hot Smoked Duck and Provence Fig Salad and Choux Boy the recommended Steak Tartare. Thumbs up all round.

Round two - it had to be the Roast Poulet for two with the Boy.

This is what heaven tastes like. I mistakenly started on the breast, which was lovely but the leg was where all that amazing foie gras goodness was, but by the time I came to it I was rather full on the breast and incredible truffley pommes sarladaise. I didn't want it to stop but unfortunately with a high waisted skirt and belt on (even after loosening it two notches), I had to. Or I would explode. And I didn't think The Ivy was the kind of joint I could ask for a doggie bag. If you were ever foolish enough not to go for the chicken, the bro had Roasted Venision with bashed neeps and elderberry sauce (thumbs up) and the mother Wild Mushroom Risotto (good but, hey, it's risotto. I made something very similar the next night with wild mushrooms and truffle oil, she should have just waited).

Two bottles of wine and one of champagne down by this point, we were flagging but dessert menus came and the in-for-a-penny-in-for-a-(lot of)-pound mentality kicked in: one crème brûlèe (me and the mother), honeycomb ice cream with hot chocolate sauce (served freshly hot in a little milk jug) for the Boy and cheese plate for bro.

And yes those are gorgeous little specks of fresh black vanilla you can see on the bottom of the bowl. Mmmm.... It was worth it.

The Ivy

1-5 West Street

London

WC2H 9NQ

020 7836 4751

http://www.the-ivy.co.uk/

Feeling Moor-ish: Doukan restaurant review

2009-10-20T13:38:00.001+01:00

Since moving to 'sarf' London with Choux Boy last month I've felt a bit lost with my dining options. No more Tas Firin, no more Muhib curry on Brick Lane, no more Viet-Ho on Kingsland Road. Ok, enough the 'East is best' hipster-pretence chat, I need to reset my default dining settings.

So with that in mind, and the fact that Choux Boy and I hadn't been on an actual 'date' since we moved in together, I dragged him off to new-ish Moroccan Doukan on Old York Road on Wednesday. The press release boasted: 'truly authentic Moroccan restaurant opened last month in leafy Wandsworth Town by culinary heavyweight Khalil Abdesslem, owner of Nomades Foods one of London's top suppliers of the finest Moroccan sauces and condiments.' My tummy was rumbling.

'Do you think I can have hummus?' I asked Choux Boy.

'Hummus isn't Moroccan.'

Told. Ok, my hummus-obsession got a mis-signal.

Hummus or not Doukan was pretty packed (always a good sign), and, we were told when we arrived, Channel 4's The F word were in filming (must be a good sign). Was that ok? Give me a menu and a glass of wine and I'm sure it will be fine. The clientele looked typically Wandsworthian - older couples and thirty-somethings with their babies. One of which was crying, right in my ear.

'See in East London there weren't any babies,' I hissed a Choux Boy.

'Oh, Filo she's just tired and hungry and irritable, like someone else I think...'

Fortunately our waitress appeared with my Moroccan white wine (when in Rome... it was called Ksar 2007 for any wine buffs - it was, ok) and the Boy's beer.

First up starter Halumi Maquli - lightly fried halloumi with fig chutney. The batter was perfectly just there and the halloumi a world away from the chewy teeth squeaking variety I've had so often. The fig chutney had a hint of Turkish delights to it that me and the Choux struggled to put our finger on - rose water? It was good.

Next up we did the classic half and half order of Chicken Mcharmel Tagine (aromatic chicken tagine in coriander, tomato and green olive sauce with couscous) and Kefta mechouia (grilled lamb kefta with fragrant shallot salad and couscous). Doukan is big on the authentic touches (and the menu says everything is made fresh on site), so my tagine came all roasty in a proper tagine dish. Both the chicken and the lamb were well cooked and tender and couscous very light and fluffy. The shallot salad was, well, just a salad and we never did manage to work out what that orange sauce was, but it did taste good.

Last up some Halwa Maghribia (assorted Moroccan pastries) tasty, goo-y and nutty. I even forgot about the lack of hummus.

Doukan

35 Old York Road

Wandsworth Town

London

SW18 1SW

020 8870 8280

http://www.doukan.co.uk/

Tarting it up: Figgy custard tart

2009-10-12T18:05:00.000+01:00

I would never say baking is my fortay. Discounting chocolate rice crispie/cornflake/insert-cereal-favourite-here 'cakes', I've attempted it twice. Peanut butter cookies that I made while nursing a rather nasty eye problem (you may think that cooking when you can't see properly doesn't sound like the best idea but it worked surprisingly well), were a instant success, and disappeared so fast I contemplated coming over all domestic goddess and baking biscuits and muffins and cupcakes every weekend, and becoming the best flatmate, like, ever.

Buoyed on by this success I decided I would really up my domestic goddess credentials by baking Choux Boy's parents some Scottish shortbread (well I'm Scottish, so they are Scottish alright) Christmas tree biscuits for last Christmas. I have to admit this was kind of spurred on by the thought of being outdone by Choux Boy himself, who had told me he was making my mother homemade chocolate truffles (in two varieties no less) for her Christmas. So the the challenge was well and truly set. Unfortunately my shortbread never did and after spending hours making dough, rolling dough, trying to work out why the dough had stuck to my kitchen table and cutting out perfect Chirstmas trees, they went in the oven looking perfect and Christmasy-y and came out looking, well splodged all over the baking tray in one big unset shorebread mess. So that was the end of that.

Until this weekend that is. Round two of impress Choux Boy's parents as they were coming round to see the new flat (first nerves) and for us to cook them dinner (second nerves). Choux Boy got in there first with his Lamb Cassoulet for mains so I was left with dessert. Rather liking figs, custard and a bit of a tart, and rather scarred for life off hot desserts by being force fed them at school dinners (the memory of eating vile rice pudding grain by grain as my friends all played outside still makes me shudder), chilled Figgy Custard Tart it was. Not too many baking ingredients to boot, I knew I was on to a winner.

Making the dough in the food processor caused a little early concern when the flour, butter, egg yolk, sugar and ground almond kept on breaking up into lots of little lumps, but some dedicated time with the wooden spoon and a drop or two of milk and we were set.

It's a lot more fragile than it looks in a big lump but hat gives it all its biscuity goodness.

The big ol' lump of dough ready to go in the fridge for a couple of hours

I could have used two people to do a bit of a lift and whisk the tart tin underneath with the rolled pasty, but Choux Boy was occupied making a mess with his skimming of the lamb fat, so I made do with some patching.

The filling - sour cream, egg and honey

I slightly over cooked the edges of the pastry, and a bit of monitoring for a turn once it was all fillinged up and in the oven would've helped (it was slightly more golden, er, or brown on one side than the other) but it was as good as I imagined, a winner with Mackies (more Scottishness) ice cream and enough to serve five with a couple bits left over for the chefs tonight. Bring on more seasonal goodness!

Looking tarty!

Top tips for girls

2009-10-07T17:43:00.000+01:00

So D&D have dropped their inclusive service charge. Good news or bad news for waitresses and waiters? Liberated diners? Better service? Well we’ll have to wait and see. But for the next time I dine out with friends I fear for my wallet. You see my mother put the fear of god of tipping in me growing up. To the point that I never leave a taxi now with out saying 'Keep the change', I spend most of a haircut stressing whether I should tip my hair washer and cutter and in what proportion and I’ve spent many a bikini wax squirming not over the pain but over the fact that I’ve just remember that I, again, don’t have any cash in my purse and won’t be able to tip her when I pay, again, by card. Are you supposed to tip your bikini waxer? Surely there must be tip-iquette on this?

Anyway, before I put you off your food (which is supposed to be what this is all about) back to my point. A lot of people don’t tip. And I think that’s wrong. And when that joint bill comes and everyone whacks down their share in an assortment of silver and pounds (I told you I am a lowly journo, none of my friends have any money either), there always seems to be well shy of an extra 10%, let alone the 12.5% all-inclusive sum. So what does my ‘no one call me a tight Scot’ self do? Make up the difference. Now, I’m not setting myself out as some sort of tipping saint but I think good service is all part of the joy of going to restaurants. What would going out to eat be without waiting staff? You might as well just go to a glorified Chinese Buffet King and be done. Can you imagine Gord at Claridge’s yelling, ‘Number 22 your Crispy pork belly with braised cheek and scallop is up, come and get it.’ No. You wouldn't want canteen culture to extend to restaurant culture so please, I beg of you, tip. Otherwise I might just feel guilty enough to do it for you.

Ooo part twooo: Ostrich

2009-10-07T13:05:00.000+01:00

Moving on to the oo-travaganza round two and it was yet another new meat to our kitchen: ostrich. Now I’ve heard great things about this strange bird and it’s more and more in vogue in recent years, but still I had no idea what to expect: is it a bird, no it can’t fly, is it red meat, no it’s ostrich! And a riot of flavours to go along with it: bring it on! (My mother would be proud, once fussy eater reformed).
Serves 2
For the marinade:
Garlic clove crushed
1 tbsp chopped fresh rosemary
½ preserved lemon, flesh only chopped
2 tbsp olive oil
Pinch saffron threads
1 tbsp chopped fresh thyme

2 x 200g ostrich fillets
3 tbsp butter
3 tbsp brown sugar
1 tbsp lemon juice
6 small parsnips
For the sauce:
125ml red wine
250ml chicken stock
75g pomegranate seeds
60g fresh raspberries
2tbsp Grenadine (we skipped this)
1 tbsp butter

Plus:
Green pea and artichoke mash
(Fry ½ onion and 2 crushed garlic cloves in butter, add 250g green peas, 250g canned artichoke hearts. Cook for 10mins. Add 125ml coconut cream, simmer for 20 mins, season, blend)
Herbed sweet potato mash
(Boil 500kg cubed sweet potato. Fry 1 crushed garlic clove then add ½ tsp oregano, ½ tbsp thyme, ½ tbsp coriander, ½ tbsp tarrogan, cook til fragrant. Mix in sweet potato, add 150ml milk, simmer for 10, season then mash, mash, mash.)
Garlic potato mash – normal mash with lots of lovely roasted garlic. Remember its ok as long you both eat it. Nice and wiffy.
It’s probably easiest to make these three first and then re-heat a bit.

For the ostrich – mix marinade ingredients and let the ostrich soak it up for 2 hours or so.
Heat butter, brown sugar and lemon juice in saucepan, til melted and dissolved. Bursh over parsnips and pop them in the oven at 200 degrees for 30mins, brush regularly with butter and sugar.
Take ostrich out the marinade and heat marinade over high heat until sizzling, add the wine and stock and reduce. Lower heat to add your fruit and cook for 5 mins. Let it cool down a bit before giving it a whiz in the blender. Strain with a fine sieve into a new saucepan and reduce for a further 5 and then cover to keep warm.
Fry the ostrich to taste – we had ours beautifully rare and tender.

On the plate, here’s the tricky bit for the full fine service look, top with each of the mashes in turn, in flavour, white, orange, green and steady hand arrange parsnips around the stack. Pour sauce around the base and voila. It’s very moor-ish (sorry). ‘Specially that green mash…

Ooo part one: Oysters

2009-10-01T17:25:00.000+01:00

If you fancy a bit of ooo at home - Gordon's breaded and fried oysters are actually easier than you think, provided you have a bit of brute strength and an oyster knife.

Serves 2
For the oysters:
Dozen fresh oysters (5 each plus 2 for pre cooking slurping)
30g plain flour
1 large egg beaten
30g Japanese panko breadcrumbs (we just used normal stale bread whizzed in the food processor)
groundnut or vegetable oil for deep frying (we only had seasame oil which seemed to work just as well)

For the sauce gribiche: (this makes enough for 4 but it's so delicious make the extra, it keeps well in the fridge, we had the reast with lemon sole goujons the next night)
1 large egg
1 tbsp dijon mustard
1 tbsp white wine vinegar
120 olive oil
1 tbsp capers
1 tbsp fresh flat parsley

To make the sauce - boil the egg, shell and half and scoop out the yolk put in the food processor and add the mustard, white wine vinegar, capers and olive oil and whizz. Finely chop the white and chop the parsely and mix in.

For the oysters - hold flat in a thickly folded tea towel, push the oyster knife against the joint (bottom) of the oyster and wiggle about to break it (bit of force required here, Choux Boy was sweating). Onde you are through turn the oyster knife to open the shell. Scoop out the oyster flesh and put in a bowl.

Once you have opened and scoops all your oysters (and slurped one each to reward yourself for all your hard work) place the flour, egg, bread in three bowls. You want to dunk each oyster in flour, egg, breadcrumbs in that order and set aside ready for the pan.

Heat 3-4cm of oil in a small saucepan. Gordon says you know it is ready for the off when a piece of breadcrumb 'fizzes vigorously' when you drop it in. Deep fry your oysters in batches of 3 or 4, depending on how big your pan is. Gordon says for a few seconds each but ours look a bit longer, maybe our oil wasn't hot enough but the breadcrumb test was definitely fizzy. Basically you want the breadcrumbs to look crisp and a bit golden like cooked scampi.

When done place them on a place lined with kitchen towel to absorb at least a little of the unhealthy deep friedness (but it tastes so goooooood). When they are all done split between two plates with some sauce on the side and crack open that bottle of bubbles, as if you haven't already...

(courtesy of Gordon Ramsay's Cooking for Friends, cheers Gord!)

Something kind of ooo...

2009-09-30T13:50:00.000+01:00

So it was my birthday on Monday, which is always a great excuse for a bit of indulgence. Since me a Choux Boy moved into our flat together just a few weeks ago, he thought it a great opportunity to treat me to a flatmate-arriving-home-free romantic dinner for two on Saturday.

Flatmates or not, Choux Boy has always been a fan of the home cuisine rather than haute cuisine in a restaurant. Now in the beginning (aka our first Valentine's meal, date four) I thought this was because Valentines in a restaurant are always an awkward disaster, especially when you have timed the beginning of a relationship to unfortunately coincide with this smultz-fest. As the relationship went on I thought it was through thirftiness, then discovered his freakish inability to sit at a table after the last course has been taken away (bill, door, gone) and have laterly realised it is actually the real meaning of labour of love (aaah) as the poor boy spends at least 24 hours, many cross London trips for specialist ingredients and blood, sweat and tears (ok, I haven't seen the tears) preparing the masterpiece. I mean how long did it take me to call Roast and book a table for his birthday?

Anyway enough relationship chatter, on with the important stuff: the food. So it was supposed to be a surprise. But it is very hard to keep a surprise when it is a 24 hour epic, so short of banishment I was able to get some clues. "It involves oysters." Mmm I love oysters. "You can meet me at Borough Market for lunch after I've done my shopping." I see a lot of herbs.

And my oysters!!

Half a pint of strong but delicious perry from New Forest cider down, I was allowed to be in on the cheese choosing, and most importantly the sampling... we settled on a strong hard Grand Juru and the tangy soft Perail.

Then banishment again. I was under strict instructions not to return to the house until at least 6pm. With ETA on bubbles (what's a birthday without bubbles?) at 7.30pm.

Back at the flat it was a chance to sneak into the kitchen to see Choux Boy at work in his mess, and a chance to peak at the open cookbooks (I am rubbish with surprises).

Breaded and fried oysters with sauce gribiche courtesy of Gordon Ramsay's Cooking for Friends.

Followed by ostrich fillet with triple mash and caramalised parsnips from Modern Moroccan by Hassan M'Souli. Oysters and ostrich! Ooooo! This is not how we eat normally...

My camera skills deteriorated from here on in thanks to some deliciously fine bubbled Casa Coste Piane prosecco from Artisan and Vine and candlelight... However I couldn't help myself getting invovled in the kitchen. Oyster opening defintely requires a bit of kit buying as I won't like to have seen Choux Boy try with a kitchen knife. I think blood and tears would have been on the cards to go with the sweat. Oyster knife is essential (and only 8 quid from Selfridges).

I'll post the recipes - but the oysters tasted like a very intense bizarre scampi. But in a great way. It was an explosion of beautiful flavours in my mouth - having only had oysters raw before I was a revelation: oystery, salty, bready hotness with capery, lemony, eggy goodness. Yum. And I think, if it's possible, even better than slurping them raw.

The ostrich was marinated in all the herbs (recipe to come!) and then cooked rare to seal the flavour - artfully balanced on top with the green pea and artichoke, sweet potato and rosemary and potato multicoloured mashes in a pool of red sauce made with the juices, stock, pomegranate and raspberry. It might sound like a lot but the sweetness of the sauce brought out the flavour of the meat - and that green pea and artichoke mash, lets just say Choux Boy was eating the leftovers cold out a bowl the next morning. That good!

Scientists gasing about bubbles

2009-09-30T13:47:00.000+01:00

We all know there is something about bubbles. From the pop, to the fizzy foam to the tingling sip; bubbles make any evening feel special. In a nod to decadence I have a little ritual for my Friday nights - one champagne flute, one mini bottle of cava (sadly the the lowly rung journalist's wage doesn't quiet stretch to champagne at this stage) and fizz, aaah, the weekend can begin. A glass of wine just doesn't cut it somehow. Well now some smart scientists have backed my theory.

Apparently it's the bubbles that make it taste so good - I knew it! I'll drink to that.

Welcome, tuck in!

2009-09-30T13:27:00.000+01:00

So I guess you've realised I quite like food.

I like eating food, I like cooking food, I like talking about food, I like going to restaurants to eat food (although can't afford to do that as much as I'd like), I really like cutting recipes out of newspapers and magazines and slightly OCD filing them in plastic wallets in a well divided recipes folder.

I have far more recipes in there than I've ever got round to cooking so hopefully I can cook them with you. And eat with you. And maybe drink wine and eat in far off places with you. Quite a lot of the time I'll be eating in London. And too much of the time I'll be eating out a plastic lunchbox at my desk (aka The Box Project). But I'll try and make it interesting so tuck in!