Dinner is served

Feel the beet: Duck, beetroot and walnut warm salad

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.

Home on the range: The Big Birthday Blow-out

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.

Something fishy up North - Crabshakk, Glasgow

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/

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

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/

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

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

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)