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.

Viennese treat - Bistro Delicat, Battersea

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/

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/

Beanz Meanz Heinz

‘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.

Dining on Cloud Nine

‘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

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...