Hollow Legs

Vinoble Wine Tasting in Lisbon

2009-11-08T18:30:00.007Z

You may have gathered from my last post that I spent a long weekend in Lisbon, for 2009's European Wine Bloggers' Conference. I'm not a wine blogger, nor have I done many posts on wine. I write about what I know, and as I don't know a lot about wine, I've never been very confident in writing about it. I am aiming to change this and this weekend was a step in the right direction.

On the first night, we remarked on the irony that we drank absolutely no wine whatsoever. After a few Super Bocks down by the water we gorged ourselves with roasted chicken, and then hit the ginjinha bars - little holes in the wall selling little plastic cupfuls of brandy, drank on the streets. The bottles were packed full of cherries and we got a couple of cherries in our cups at one or two places. The brandy ranged from tasting like cough syrup at worst, to a lovely fruity liquer at best. The soaked cherries were potent. We wobbled back to our hostel.

Nursing a slightly fuggy head the next day, we made our way to the rather plush Grand VIP Lisboa, where the conference was being held, and where we were to stay for the rest of our trip. On the first evening, we faced two formal tastings; one with Vinoble and the next with the Douro Boys. We were to taste a mammoth 26 wines. I was nervous. Tweets flew around warning us to spit the wine, or we'd never make it through. I've never spat wine out.

We entered the room and were faced with tables and tables of Riedel glasses set up in a crescent shape around each seat. A friend remarked that there must be at least £10,000's worth of glasses in the room. It was a nightmarish situation; there isn't usually an evening that goes by that I don't knock a wine glass. These would go down like very expensive dominoes.

We kicked off with a Vinoble's tasting of dessert wines. To start, an almond flavoured, caramelised Gran Barquero Amontillado was surprisingly dry for a sweet wine. Lustau Solera Reserva Amontillado Escuadrilla followed swiftly. Aged in American oak casks, it smelled a bit vegetal and salty. The nutty flavour wasn't immediate and was more of an aftertaste. I found it tasted better on the second sip.

One of my favourites of the evening was Apostol Palo Cortado VORS. It had a rich caramel flavour, and smelled nutty and of toast and buttery. It had a sharp finish that livened you up some, like a smack round the face. I was enjoying this tasting. Quevedo Colheita 1994 was a dark rich red colour, and was dark soft fruits on the nose. It was very sweet, coating the mouth with syrup.
The Moscatel Roxo 1999, above, was another favourite of mine. It was a beautiful light amber colour, and having been aged for 8 years in old oak barrels previously used for whiskey, I expected it to have a more oaky flavour. Instead, it was flowers, herbs and grass. It had just a hint of sweetness and had a light, tea-flavoured finish.

The Justino Henriques Colheita Fine Rich 1995, saw a return to nuttiness. It was a deep, dark brown and quite dry. A rather stark contrast to the wine we'd tried previously. The penultimate wine, Sandeman Vintage 2007 was the only in the tasting that I disliked. It was peppery, spicy and of cloves, with an earthy hint of soil. I'd heard murmurings that it was too young.

The final wine we tried was a Pedro Ximénes Gran Orden. It was the colour of iodine, and stained a yellowish tinge to the glass. It smelled of molasses, figs, and reminded me of Christmas. It tasted intensely of toasted raisins, and I didn't get a lot past that.

After this, we breaked for a glass of beer, apparently a good palate cleanser. I was cheered by my first foray into a formal tasting; no glasses were broken by my hand, and as I looked back at my notes they sounded coherent. I hope you think so too.

Pastéis de Belém - Lisbon, Portugal

2009-11-04T11:40:00.019Z

Before I launch into any booze-drenched posts of the European Wine Bloggers Conference, held in Lisbon last weekend, I wanted to get this out there. This is the first place, reportedly, to sell Pastéis de Nata; Portugese custard tarts. These tarts are believed to be created by the monks of Mosteiro dos Jerónimo, a monastery in Belém, before the 18th Century. I was almost loathe to eat any on our trip to Lisbon until we visited this place as it had been so highly recommended. Of course I couldn't resist though... One does need a point of reference, after all. They were on offer everywhere.

We left the trip to Belém until Monday, at the very end of our long weekend in Lisbon. As such, we were a bedraggled bunch. It took us two hours to get there, due to getting on the wrong train(s). Pastéis de Belém is enormous - at first glance it looked like just a large cafe, but on exploring further it really was maze-like with blue and white tiled cavernous rooms out the back.

We sat down, thirsty and hungover, to peruse the menu. Salt cod cakes, beef croquettas, a couple of quiches and of course the tarts were ordered. Service was a bit scatty; our waitress arrived with our quiches, then whisked them away again to get them warmed up. They returned cold. The ham quiche was always going to me more tasty than the spinach, and it didn't let us down. Both were hefty examples.

I didn't enjoy the meat paste texture of the beef croquettes much, but the salt cod cakes were great. Slightly garlicky, flaky soft cod with delicious mashed potato, fried up and still warm. A little ketchup wouldn't have gone astray - any kind of fried potato product has me looking for the red stuff.

But what of the main event? The custard tarts were, as suspected, excellent. Flaky pastry, the outer of which was so brittle and thin it shattered like glass in the mouth - though far less harmful, of course. The custard filling had a pleasingly creamy texture, without being overtly eggy, nor too sweet. In short, I loved it. I debated having another, but as we'd already decided we would be having a second lunch, I held back.

All this, with 3 bottles of water (I told you it had been a heavy weekend...) came to 15 Euros in total.

A mere hour later, I dived into this - salt cod fillet, at a nearby restaurant. I have developed a worrying addiction to the fish.

Pastéis de Belém

Rua de Belém no. 84 a 92

1300 - 085 Lisboa

Portugal

Tel: +351 21 363 74 23

Mackerel à la Lyonnaise

2009-10-28T09:00:00.000Z

Sometimes you just want to do something a little differently. Recently on a Saturday spent with my parents, we picked up some mackerel for lunch. When my dad suggested we cook them with some butter, white wine and vinegar I did wonder for a minute. I had assumed we'd stuff the mackerel with some herbage and some citrus and simply grill. However, he said he'd done it like this before, and it turned out well so I went along with it.

We dug out the old tome that housed this recipe, Larousse Gastronomique, and set about making the recipe. The fish were filleted and I spent a good 10 minutes hunched over the fillets removing the little pin bones with my tweezers, checking for any wayward eyebrow hairs.

Next, 2 diced onions were slowly cooked to almost-caramelised sweetness in a healthy amount of butter with a dash of oil. The oven was preheated to 200 degrees C, and half the onions were scooped into a buttered dish. The salt and peppered mackerel were laid out on top and covered with the remaining onions. A generous tablespoon of red wine vinegar was splashed on top, along with 4 very generous tablespoons of white wine. At the point, the recipe called for breadcrumbs to be sprinkled on top, but we couldn't be arsed. With the top dotted with butter, the dish went in the oven for 10 minutes.

We were somewhat concerned whether the 10 minutes would be sufficient enough to burn the alcohol off. After all, my unfortunate mother is allergic to booze and this dish may have rendered her red faced and droopy-eyed (yes, really). We gave it about 12 minutes in the end, and when it came out it was happily bubbling. There were no incidents around the dining table. Scattered with some finely chopped parsley, served with a simply dressed salad and some crusty French baguette, this made a fine lunch. The mackerel were cooked to perfection and melted in the mouth. Not normally a fan of soggy fish skin, the meat was so tender you couldn't even tell it was there, save the tell-tale silvery colour peeking from below. The sweetness of the onions was balanced perfectly with the vinegar, and the buttery, white wine sauce was mopped up readily with the bread.

A Brioche, Some Chutney

2009-10-26T20:57:00.006Z

When the lovely PR bods at Wild Card contacted me asking if wanted to try out some packaged soy milk, So Good Soya, I was a bit skeptical. My mum makes her own soy milk from dried soy beans and I often drink it cold and slightly sweetened as a drink. Curiosity got the better of me and I wondered how they would compare. I was sent a couple of cartons, along with a comprehensive recipe list. However, I have been wanting to try making brioche and as I had a lactose-intolerant friend coming over to visit, I decided to use the soy milk to substitute milk in this recipe.

Brioche is a French bread, enriched with butter and eggs. It's sweetness often complements foie gras, and having had a tin of pâté in the fridge for god knows how long, this little starter came to mind. I adapted this recipe, replacing the milk with soy milk. Though the dough was very wet, I added a little more flour, let The Beast do it's thing, and it turned soft and elasticky, pulling away nicely from the bowl . It was sweet and delicious; toasted, smeared with foie gras pâté and dabbed with a little of the plum chutney below, it was a decadent and moreish nibble. In fact, later I couldn't stop slicing more off and slathering it with jam to munch on.

It really was a day of firsts, and I decided to give myself a bit more work to do. That foie gras pâté needed some chutney, after all. A punnet of plums called out to me, and this recipe was born. Recipes on the net suggest adding some diced shallots, but I was all out and I wasn't about to head to the shops. I don't think the chutney suffered from it; it was sweet, spicy with a tangy background and it cut through the richness of the foie gras. It also turned a brilliantly lurid colour.

Plum & Star Anise Chutney

Makes about 2 jam jars

450gr plums
1 star anise
70ml white wine or cider vinegar
100gr brown or demerara sugar
1 1" slice of ginger
4 tbsp water
A little cooking oil

Sterilise the jam jars and lids by covering them and their lids in a pan of cold water. Bring to the boil and simmer for 10 minutes. Remove from the water (carefully!) and leave to dry.

Wash the plums and slice around in half, twisting the halves off and removing the stone. Chop into roughly equal sized chunks. In a pan, add a dribble of oil and fry the ginger gently on both sides. Add the plums and the sugar and fry on a low heat, covering all the plums in the sugar. Throw in the water and the vinegar, as well as the star anise and simmer for 15 - 20 minutes. When it's done, remove the star anise and ginger, spoon into the jars while hot and put the lid on. If you want a stronger star anise flavour leave the pod in the chutney. Leave to cool and put it in the fridge.

I'm not sure how long it lasts, I'd say about a couple of weeks. The chutney worked out perfectly with the brioche and pâté, and I imagine it'll also work well used sparingly with a really strong cheddar. I also used a couple dollops stirred into a red wine reduction to sauce a duck breast, cooked to medium rare, with great effect.

Mien Tay, Battersea

2009-10-24T10:50:00.006+01:00

Vietnamese food is quickly becoming an obsession of mine. Fresh clean flavours, some chilli kick, and often the comfort of deeply beefy noodle soups.

Mien Tay is a Vietnamese restaurant on Kingsland Road, part of the many that make up what is known as Pho Mile. Specialising in the cuisine of South Western Vietnam, they recently opened a branch in Battersea and invited me along to sample their dishes. Located on Lavender Hill, it's actually more convenient for me than Kingsland Road is - when timed right it's a mere 30 minute train ride away.

The menu is over-whelmingly long. I was pleased to see some unusual meats, like frogs legs, eel and goat. Whereas I knew exactly what I wanted for my main - how else do you test a Vietnamese place other than by its Pho? - I was more confused about what to have to start. I wanted several different dishes, so I asked our waitress what she would recommend. She told us she'd bring us a selection. Green papaya salad with dried chilli beef (top) was refreshing, light and the jerky-like strips of beef packed a punch. Next, the Banh Xeo came out - a crispy rice flour pancake coloured with turmeric and stuffed to bursting full of pork and beansprouts, with lettuce leaves and herbs for us to wrap and dip. It was deliciously messy business, and there wasn't a scrap left on the plate.

Our eyes widened when this platter was brought out to us. Prawn paste wrapped around sugar cane, spiced pork patties, chargrilled quail with honey and spices, summer rolls, spring rolls... I looked on in glee while my dining companion had a vague look of fear about him.

I don't often bother with quail as I find it fiddly but these were enough to make me change my mind. Slightly sweet, sticky and meaty, they were worth the fiddle. Dipped in a dish of salt and pepper mixed with lime juice, I couldn't help but to pick the bones dry. Prawn paste wrapped the sugarcane, and gnawing on it was a pleasure; sweet juices mixed with garlicky, bouncy prawn flesh. Summer rolls and spring rolls were adequately made and stuffed with fresh vegetables, but were neglected in favour of the spiced meats.

At this point my friend fretted that he was already full. I patted my belly; still some room left. By this point the dining room was busy and full of chatter. Service started to suffer a bit; I'd heard our neighbouring table complaining that they hadn't received their starters before their mains. Wrong dishes were placed at our table and then whisked away. While mildly irritating, I wasn't particularly bothered; service was so sweet and apologetic I almost wanted to give them a hug.

The above steaming bowl of Pho was placed before me. I'd ordered the Special, which contained a combination of beef balls, brisket and tender, rare slices of beef. I had a sip of the soup stock before garnishing it with the beansprouts, herbs and lime - I almost didn't want to add them. The stock was beautifully flavoured. The noodles retained some bite and were pleasingly elastic. Easily the best Pho I've had in London.

My companion ordered the goat stir-fried with galangal. I wasn't sure if this was a particularly Vietnamese dish, as I usually associate galangal with Thai food. The dish was heavily spiced, almost like a curry and the meat was slightly chewy which is what I'd expected of goat, with a hint of gaminess. The dish was rather one dimensional in flavour - there was an initial smack of the galangal, but not a whole lot else. By this point, my friend declared himself overstuffed. Our lovely hosts were kind enough to pack up the rest of the goat dish to be enjoyed later.

All in all, it was a fantastic meal. None of the dishes passed the £6 mark, and being a BYO place means it is a place to have a meal of great value. I think the menu could do with being simpled down; there were a lot of Chinese-sounding dishes and I think they should stick to what they're obviously good at - Vietnamese food. As well as the salad, the pancake and the quail, the Pho was fantastic, and my friend who'd tried some of mine said it was amazing. A gem in South London - though I wish they'd opened south east way.

Mien Tay

180 Lavender Hill
Battersea
London SW11 5TQ

Tel: 0207 350 0721

Chinese Braised Oxtail

2009-10-20T20:38:00.005+01:00

One might have thought that after the meatiness of the faggots, I'd balance it out with a somewhat lighter and vegetable-laden meal. Not so. Various tempting blog posts, like that of this and this, made me crave oxtail and it's fork-tender, fatty, gelatinous goodness. Having only ever cooked oxtail once before in a very British manner, I decided to go entirely the other way this time, and plumped for some Chinese flavours.

Of course, oxtail requires some long and slow cooking. Last weekend saw me sling some essential flavourings into a big stock pot. The browned oxtails went in next, and it was just left to do it's thing for 3 or 4 hours. The flat filled up with the warm and spicy smells of star anise, cloves and ginger and I was well rewarded for such little effort. The meat was soft, interspersed with unmistakably gooey tendon. My poor knife was unable to negotiate around the funny star-shaped bones, and in the end I picked it up gnawing away, making sure I got every morsel off. It was a rather grotesque sight to behold.

It's best to cook the oxtail the day before, so that you can easily lift the fat out but this is not essential - you just need rather a lot of patience to spoon the fat out instead.

Chinese Braised Oxtail

Serves 2 generously

4 large pieces of oxtail
8 shiitake mushrooms, rehydrated in hot water
4 cloves of garlic, bashed roughly
6 slices of ginger
4 tbsp Shaoxing rice wine
2 tbsp black vinegar
2 tbsp light soy sauce
1 tbsp dark soy sauce
1 tbsp sugar
1 tsp Sichuan peppercorns
1 1/2 star anise
2 cloves
2 dried chillis
1 pint of beef stock
2 spring onions

In a large frying pan, season the oxtail with salt and pepper and brown. Remove and place in a big stock pot. In the frying pan, fry the chillis, garlic and ginger in the fat that was rendered from the oxtail. Add to the pot. Add the rest of the ingredients except the spring onions. If the stock doesn't cover the oxtail, add more. Simmer for 2 hours on a low heat. Then take the mushrooms, cut the stems off and add to the pot, along with the mushroom liqour, taking care not to add any grit. Braise for a further hour.

At this stage, you can leave it to cool and put it in the fridge to lift some of the fat out. Otherwise, take the oxtails out, and strain the liquid into a smaller saucepan, picking the mushrooms out. If you're doing this right away, spoon out as much fat as you can. Simmer this liquid fairly rapidly so that it reduces into a thicker sauce. This can take up to 45 minutes. Add the oxtails and the mushrooms back in, and simmer for a further 15 minutes, turning the oxtails around if they're not covered by the sauce. Serve, garnishing with spring onions cut diagonally, with some steamed rice and stir-fried spinach or steamed pak choi. Have wet wipes handy...

Faggots

2009-10-18T21:31:00.006+01:00

I recently offered my services to Simon Majumdar of Dos Hermanos, when he asked for someone to test a recipe for faggots for a forthcoming book. Certain friends gave me the nickname 'Faggot', as my surname almost rhymes with it, and since I'd never tried them before I jumped at the chance.

The recipe recommends adding pigs heart, but upon visiting my butcher and asking for pigs liver, pigs heart and caul fat (which the faggots are traditionally wrapped in), he couldn't help me. These cuts are not in vogue, and so they don't sell them. Morrisons helped me out with the pig liver though; they have an astonishing range of alternative cuts of meat. Alas, another obstacle - I visited no less than 4 supermarkets and not one of them had sage in stock. Apparently all the Canadians had snapped it up for their Thankgiving stuffings. I persevered and was rewarded with this handsome meal.

This is seriously rib-sticking stuff; perfect for this autumnal weather. The seasoning was spot on. Rich and deeply meaty with a hint of liver here and there, the faggots were juicy without being greasy. The thyme flavoured the faggots nicely, and the only criticism I had was that I felt they needed a touch more sage. I had an accident while hand-mincing a slab of pork belly, and I almost took the top of my index finger off; much bleeding ensued and the rest of the mincing wasn't as fine as it could have been.

Welsh Faggots

Makes 6 Faggots

500gms Pork Belly (trim off the skin and, unless you are a savage, keep to make crackling)

250gms Pigs Liver

250gms Lamb Breast

125gms Pig Heart (optional, but adds real flavour)

125gms of breadcrumbs (made using day old bread)

1 Large white onion (finely chopped)

1 Teaspoon of Salt

1 Teaspoon of white pepper

1 Teaspoon fresh sage (finely chopped)

1 Teaspoon fresh thyme (finely chopped)

If you can find caul fat at your butcher all the better, but if not, strips of good unsmoked back bacon will do just as well.

Mince all the meats together, mixing to make sure they are combined. Add the onion, the salt, pepper and herbs and mince once more to the texture of a rough pate. Add the breadcrumbs and mix well. Form the mixture into cricket ball sized balls and wrap in caul fat or in a criss-cross of bacon. Chill in the refrigerator for at least one hour to firm. Bake in a pre-heated oven at around 180c/350f/Gas 4 for fifty minutes to an hour. Serve with a thick rich gravy and a bowl of homemade mushy peas doused liberally with malt vinegar. I added a glob of mint sauce to my mushy peas which also worked brilliantly.

Simon's book is out next May. If all the recipes are as good as this, it will be well worth buying.

(Any leftover faggots work fantastically chopped up into bubble and squeak...)

Le Cassoulet

2009-10-14T21:54:00.009+01:00

I've heard many good things about Le Cassoulet. Malcolm John's restaurant is located in deepest, darkest Croydon and I was surprised to find bloggers trekking out there to visit it. Handily enough, Croydon is mere 20 minute train ride for me. This made it prime pick for my birthday lunch with my parents, as it's half way for us.

Arriving in South Croydon, it struck me as an unsual place to have a restaurant awarded a Bib Gourmand by Michelin. It's located on a quiet high street, not a soul in sight save one lone hobo, who jittered up and down the stretch no less than 3 times in as many hours. Entering the restaurant, it was virtually empty and we were seated. Fresh warm bread was brought out with room temperature butters, one of which was a delicious anchovy butter. Oh how I love anchovies.

To start, I couldn't resist the steak tartare (above), though I know of a friend who raves about the chicken liver parfait. I was hoping one of my parents would order the parfait so that I could snaffle some, but they went for the escargots. While my dish was amusingly presented, I really enjoyed this. With properly hand minced beef, I was able to regulate exactly how much egg yolk went in (just a touch) and how many capers, gherkins and shallots would season it (all of it). We were off to a good start.

After much lingering over the menu, I went for the oxtail ravioli with celeriac puree and chanterelles.

While the pasta wasn't as silky smooth and thin as the example I had at Le Querce, the filling was meaty and had a great depth of flavour. The chanterelles added a great earthy flavour and were cooked well. A comforting dish, though I'd have prefered a little less celeriac puree, and a bit more of the sauce to moisten it more.

Dad felt it was his duty to have the eponymous cassoulet. Unfortunately it was a little burnt on top - I think I would have complained, but Pops is terribly British. Nevertheless, he enjoyed it, especially as he found nuggets of duck hearts. Having procured myself a little taste the white beans were perfectly cooked and didn't melt into a mush, as it can sometimes too. Intensely flavoured with duck and pork, it was a real rib sticker. It's something I'd really like to recreate at home.

Mum's razor clams in a Calvados and parsley cream sauce was a generous portion. The meat was sweet and tender, the sauce deceptively light, making a great chip-dip. The frites served with this dish deserve a mention. They were wonderfully crunchy and salty, encasing a fluffy centre and were perhaps the best example that I've had this year - high praise, as I have munched rather a lot of frites.

Though I was pretty full by this point, I decided to to share the tarte tatin, with vanilla ice cream. Having been told it would be a 20 minute wait, we uncouthly popped out for a quick smoke and the time passed by pleasantly. The tarte was served at the table, and it really was the highlight of the meal. The apples were cooked so that they were soft enough to cut with a spoon, but not mushy. A light caramel sweetened the dish, while the flaky, buttery pastry was a thing of great beauty. I would return for this alone.

Throughout the meal, our server was sweet and unobtrusive. She seemed a little confused at times ("what does the dish come with, do I need any sides?" "Erm... do you want any sides?") but did her job well, especially as the restaurant filled up to bustling as the afternoon went on.

For a 3 course lunch from an extensive set menu at £20, this is excellent value. Yes, there were faults with the meal such as a slightly burnt cassoulet, escargots that needed more garlic, but nevertheless I thought there was good skill behind the dishes and it was great hearty fare. I will definitely be returning; there's chicken liver parfait and chateaubriand to be sampled. Another great local(ish) discovery.

Le Cassoulet

18 Selsdon Road
South Croydon
CR2 6PA

Tel: 020 8633 1818

Website

Stuffed Tofu

2009-10-12T12:47:00.008+01:00

Often people will tell me they don't like tofu. I find this hard to believe, mainly because there are so many different types and different ways in cooking it. Sure, if you've been subjected to tofu burgers, or that hideous Cauldron marinated stuff, then I can understand.

But tofu, especially bought fresh, is wonderous; from Ma Po Tofu to Agedashi Tofu, it shows that tofu isn't just reserved just for the vegetarian or vegan. Fresh silken tofu is, as the name suggests silky in the mouth with a clean and refreshing flavour. A particular favourite of mine is the tofu you can buy already deep-fried at the Chinese supermarket. When stuffed and then braised in sauce it takes on a lovely, spongy, juicy quality that's full of flavour.

This is quite a common Cantonese recipe. Traditionally white fish is pounded until it is a paste, and then when cooked it takes on a bouncy texture. It's a dish my grandmother used to make, either with a combination of pork and prawn or fish and it a very comforting dish to me, redolent of family meals in Hong Kong. The table would heave with several dishes, such as this tofu dish, some vegetables, and a meat dish all to be added to your bowl of rice.

Fish-Stuffed Fried Tofu in Black Bean Sauce

Serves 4 as part of a multi-dish meal or 2 as a main

For the tofu:

10 or 15 cubes of tofu
200gr white fish (I used pollack)
1 spring onion, minced finely
1" cube of ginger, chopped finely
2 tsp light soy sauce
1/2 tsp white pepper
A few dashes of sesame oil
4 tbsp vegetable oil
1 tsp cornflour
1 egg white

For the sauce:

2 tbsp black beans, chopped
1 tbsp dark soy
1 tbsp Chinese rice wine
2 tsp light soy
1/5 tsp sugar
1 tsp black vinegar
100ml chicken stock or water
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 spring onion, sliced on the diagonal
1 tsp of cornflour slackened with 2 tsp water

Slice the tofu cubes in half and remove the inner white bits. In a food processor, add the stuffing mixture and process into a paste. Chop the black beans finely and add to a separate bowl with the dark soy, rice wine, light soy, sugar, and vinegar. Mix well to make a thick, viscous sauce. Add the water or chicken stock.

Stuff the fish paste into the tofu, over stuffing it a touch, as it will shrink. This is best done with a teaspoon and fingers. Heat the oil in a wok and fry the tofu gently, fish side down, for 5 minutes. Then add in the garlic and stir gently until fragrant. Add the sauce mixture and cover. Simmer for 10 minutes on a medium heat, stirring carefully, occasionally. Then add the cornflour mixture and simmer until thickened, finally garnishing with the spring onion. Serve with rice.

Onion & Anchovy Pasta

2009-10-08T10:00:00.000+01:00

This is probably one of the dishes I cook most often. I first got the recipe from the BBC Food Messageboards, apparently a Venetian dish and it frankly sounded a little bizarre. Onions, anchovies, parsley and pasta? That's it? I was dubious. After I made it though, I was completely converted.

So, when I was gifted this jar of anchovies my friend brought back from Spain, I knew this dish was destined to be in my belly in the near future. The plump anchovies were a world away from the brown paper thin ones you get in tins, and made this dish as tasty as ever. The onions, cooked ever-so-slowly over 40 or so minutes, turn into a sweet mush, while the anchovies melt into it, emulsifying it into a perfectly balanced sauce with the freshness of the parsley flecks completing it. The anchovies lend a deep umami flavour without an overly fishy flavour. I thoroughly recommend you try it, but don't try and fancify it; red onions definitely do not work, and don't be tempted to add any Parmesan to it. Spaghetti works well with this, but even better as I discovered this time, is bucatini. It has a spaghetti shape but is slightly thicker with a hole and it holds the sauce well.

Onion & Anchovy Pasta

Serves 2

3 large white onions
8 anchovies (the ones in oil, not fresh)
A large handful of fresh parsley
200gr pasta - spaghetti or bucatini
A little milk
Salt & pepper

Soak the anchovy fillets in a little milk. Slice the onions into a half moon shape thinly and chop the parsley finely. In a pan, fry the onions in some oil in a pan on the lowest heat you have, with the lid on. Stir occasionally, and if they start to stick add a splash of water. 30 minutes later, put the pasta on to cook. Add the anchovies to the onions with the milk. Stir the sauce until the anchovies disintegrate. This will probably look a bit grim, but it will emulsify into a sauce. Add a dash of milk if it gets dry. Drain the pasta, reserving 4 tbsp of the cooking water. Add the pasta to the sauce and toss to coat, adding the water if it needs it. Scatter in the parsley, grind over plenty of fresh pepper and add salt to taste.

The Sportsman, Seasalter

2009-10-06T08:00:00.000+01:00

On the Kentish coast of Seasalter sits The Sportsman. This pub / restaurant has been much talked about, and was this year awarded a Michelin star. Not only does head chef, Stephen Harris cure his own ham, they churn their own butter and even make their own salt from the sea water 50 metres from their door.

A gaggle of my girlfriends come from Whitstable, mere miles away and driving past a few months ago, face pressed to the window, I marvelled at it's remote location. Last Friday morning (they don't do tasting menus at the weekend), I found myself at Victoria station, running for a train to take me to the seaside.

We were fortuitous; the day we picked was beautifully sunny. A quick cab ride took us to the place, and we had a quick look at the sea before heading inside to commence our lunch. The restaurant is sparsely furnished; bare wooden floors match bare wooden tables. It was impressively pub-like for somewhere recognised by Michelin.

The tables were decorated with all sorts of weirdly shaped squashes, from the vegetable garden round the back. After a Bloody Mary pick-me-up we were asked if we wanted a menu or a surprise. We picked the latter. The first natives of the season came out on a bed of clam shells, topped with a slice of chorizo. The oyster was creamy and briny; the chorizo spicy and salty. We were off to a good start.

Next up, we were presented with Gloucester Old Spot pork scratchings with a wholegrain mustard dip, alongside herrings with gooseberry jelly and cream cheese on a rye bread square. Those pork scratchings were addictive. Appropriately salty, slightly chewy, definitely crunchy, we jealously eyed up the remaining morsels, like a Mexican stand-off. On the other side, the herring skewer was a contrast; firm fresh herring meat, slightly tart fruity jelly with a hint of luxuriousness. The excitement was reaching peak level.

On paper, this poached oyster with gooseberry granita and Jersey cream sounds like it would be a bit odd. Sour gooseberries, with cream? However, it worked. The oyster was barely poached, the granita giving a lightness and the cream was thick and unctuous. I enjoyed it, but at the end of the meal I felt that this was the dish that stood out the least.

Bread, which I'm usually neither here nor there about, was served warm with the home-made butter. The butter had a fudgy consistency, and the dark brown, rye-like bread was my favourite. Slightly sweet and nutty, I had to stop myself from stuffing myself silly with it.

Slipsole in seaweed butter was simply presented and simply cooked. The fish slid off the bone beautifully and revealed sweet meat. It showed Harris' deft skills in cooking something that relies so much on its quality, which was top.

Crab risotto was stunning. The intense brown crab flavour in the rice was rich but not overwhelming. It was a perfect portion size as this really was a flavoursome dish that whalloped you full-on in the face. The pile of white crabmeat was contrasted sweetly with the intense umami-rich rice it sat atop.

Home-cured ham was a little dry, but flavoursome in a rustic, heavily porcine way. I admire Harris curing his ham from his own pigs. The fat was silky and melted happily on the tongue.

This was my absolute favourite dish of the meal. Wild turbot teetered on some mineral-rich greenery (spinach perhaps?) surrounded by a smoked herring roe sauce. The sauce was dramatically grey which pleased me, but put off another guest at our table. The flesh was bouncy, so fresh and well matched with the sauce that I didn't want it to end. The plate looked as though it had been licked clean.

Breaded lamb belly slices hid a strong hit of mustard underneath the crumb. The mint sauce gave a welcome freshness to the fatty meat, introducing the meat course well.

Rack of lamb and a nugget of the shoulder were, again, simply cooked. The shoulder was tender and well layered with fat. The little lamb chop was cooked to perfection, and I picked up the bone to have a little discreet gnaw. Another example of the chef letting the natural quality of the flavours shine through.

This blackberry lollipop in cake milk heralded the arrival of the sweeter courses. I wondered what cake milk was, and Stephen, who introduced a few of our courses explained "milk that tastes like cake". And so it did! The blackberry lolly was of the frozen type, and reminded me of jelly and ice cream.

I never really have high hope for desserts, as I'm not a sweet lover myself. However, this filled me with delight. Apple parfait, drizzled with salted caramel and hazelnuts, topped with a sweet caramel wafer, and a quenelle of blackberry sorbet. It was a large portion, but I gobbled it all up happily. Salted caramel really is my new favourite thing.

And to finish, this platter of desserts. Rhubarb and custard sorbet had the added surprise of popping candy, while a shot of chocolate mousse was light as a feather. Lemon and raspberry tart was so delicate I nearly crushed it between my oafish fingers. A candied plum was what it was, and right at the end, the sponge soaked in walnut liquer was nice, but somewhat plain and therefore the weakest of the lot.

Wine prices were almost absurdly reasonable. Stephen explained to us that a lot of the customers have been there before, and don't want to feel ripped off by 300-500% mark-ups. While London restaurants might be able to get away with it, not so here. We started with a couple bottles of Sancerre Clos des Bouffants Roger Neveu 2007 Loire Valley, priced at £21.95. This was crisp, slightly grassy with a hint of tropical flavours that went perfectly with the seafood. For the meaty courses, a 1999 bottle of Château Fourcas-Dumont Listrac Medoc Bordeaux was vanilla-scented, robust and great value at £24.95. We later switched to a slightly chilled Runnymead Pinot Noir which was lighter on the palate and really quite quaffable, before finishing on a glass of delicious Moscatel.

I tried to edit this post down to include less pictures, less waffle to hold your attention more but truth be told, I couldn't bear not sharing it all - I enjoyed this meal so much. True, it is a bit of a schlep being about 1.5 hours away from London, but a good 4 or 5 hour lunch is worth a little effort, especially given it was such incredible value; an aperitif, the tasting menu, a share of the 6 bottles of wine consumed between 5 of us came to £94 each, including the well-deserved 10% tip.

We were the first to arrive and the last to leave, truly the sign of a good lunch. After we waddled out of the restaurant, we decided a stroll along the beach to Whitstable was in order. The waiting staff told us it would take around an hour - after jumping over a groyn every 20 metres it came to more like 1.5 hours. Still, it was a scenic walk and more than enough to blow out the post-lunch snooze.

A full Flickr set of the day can be seen by clicking here.

The Sportsman

Faversham Road
Seasalter
Whitstable
Kent CT5 4BP

Tel: 01227 273370

We came here by public transport. A return ticket from London Victoria to Faversham costs £12 when booked as part of a group and 5 of us in a cab from Faversham came to £15.

Decadence

2009-10-05T12:00:00.000+01:00

A friend turned up at my flat on Saturday with this little beasty, picked up from F. C. Soper in Nunhead. I was beside myself with excitement.

A quick split down the middle, a few bashes with a spanner (I had nothing else), and several minutes spraying myself with lobster viscera later...

With some freshly baked bread, butter, truffle mayonnaise, and a wodge of lemon made for a perfect dinner.

Polpo, Soho

2009-10-03T15:32:00.011+01:00

As I rushed hurriedly down Dean Street in Soho, I suddenly remembered that Beak Street, where Polpo is located, is off Carnaby Street, a good 5 minutes brisk pace away. I was in entirely the wrong area. I burst into the restaurant, late and slightly sweating, and took my seat next to my friend at the bar.

Polpo is a Venetian baraco or wine bar, serving small plates of Italian food. I first heard about it on Twitter, and having heard some good things in the preview nights before it opened, I was looking forward to going. The menu is divided into cicchetti & crostini, breads, meat, fish, vegetables and desserts. We picked a few of these along with a 1/4 litre bottle of a robust red, and settled back. On only its second day of being open, the place was pretty full and had a great buzz to it. Exposed brickwork made the place feel homely, while my friend admired the stressed effect the paintwork had one one wall. Soon our order of arancini (risotto balls), salt cod on polenta, and fig, mint and proscuitto crostini arrived.

The salt cod on polenta was surprisingly but not unpleasantly cold. Arancini, piping hot were gorgeous and creamy, without a hint of stodge. The fig's natural sweetness was perfectly balanced with the saltiness of the proscuitto. I was starting to fall in love with the place.

Next up, a dramatically dark dish of cuttlefish cooked in its own ink with gremolata arrived. This was rich and tasted of the sea, the tender meat was lifted by the gremolata. I fretted over the colour of my teeth.

Mussels and clams were garlicky and buttery. I'd have preferred a couple more clams, but the mussels were plump and meaty. At this point we realised some bread would be good to mop up all the juices. A pizzetta bianco turned up and it was crisp, flaky and utterly gorgeous. We didn't end up dipping the bread but scarfed it, unadulterated.

We had one last dish to come, slow roasted duck with green peppercorns and black olives. The barman told us the dishes come out as and when they're ready, but nevertheless we waited for some time. We were offered some complimentary bread, which was another delicious pizzetta bianco. Finally, our duck dish turned up.

The meat was cooked to tenderness, and the tomato sauce given a little kick from the heat of the green peppercorns. The cherry tomatoes were juicy and bursting with flavour. By the time we'd finished, we'd been there for a good hour and a half. I had well and truly fallen in love with the place. I sprinted back to work, full and happy, excited about the prospect of telling all my friends about it. I can't wait to return to try out more of the menu, perhaps in the evening when I can take my time over it.

Lunch for two with wine and service came to £50.

Polpo

41 Beak Street,
London, W1F 9SB

Tel: 020 7734 4479

Goodbye, Summer

2009-09-30T09:00:00.000+01:00

Alas, summer is over. Gone are the days of sunshine beating on your brow, the smell of cut grass tickling your nostrils, skipping to work in short skirts and flip flops. This, of course, being London means that we had maybe a couple of weeks of this weather, but one must grateful for what we did get.

Last weekend saw blue skies, wispy clouds and the sun peeked out; like summer's wave goodbye to us. I do love autumn and all the rich shades of colour it brings, but waking up and getting home while it's dark depresses me. Which is why when I woke up on Sunday and flung the blinds back to be greeted by sunshine, I hauled my housemate's ass out of bed, frog-marched her down to Sainsburys, and got all the goods for what might be our last barbeque of the year.

As there was just the two of us, I thought the best way to go would be a big hunk of meat and a couple of salads. 800gr of bone-in Aberdeen Angus rib was purchased, along with some leaves and knobbly new potatoes to make up our lunch. As a little starter, I steamed up some white asparagus, part of a birthday hamper I received from my mates. This was simply dressed with a healthy glob of butter and a generous grinding of salt. A fruity Pimms cocktail kept us company while we waited for the coals to do its thing.

The steak was left out at room temperature, and half an hour before it was slapped on the barbeque, I lightly dusted both sides with salt. Now, some people say not to salt meat until the very last moment otherwise it draws the juices out, but I seem to recall Dos Hermanos recommending this on Twitter. We tried it at a previous barbeque and it worked beautifully so I shouted "to hell with convention!" (as the housemate looked on, alarmed) and it got a good salting.

A mere 5 - 7 minutes on each side on a properly flaming grill, and it was left to rest on a chopping board. I batted wasps away while the housemate squealed. I paced up and down the balcony. We all know the importance of resting meat, but this was maddening. To console myself I got stuck into the potato salad with gusto. Finally, a good 15 minutes had passed and I refused to wait any longer. The steak was sliced, revealing a deliciously ruby red core, and served onto our plates. Floppy curly lettuce leaves were lightly dressed with heady truffle oil, also from aforementioned hamper, and a barbequed, buttered portabella mushroom completed the plate. We munched in near silence, aside from the odd "mmooh myff god this is good" and "uuugghhhhh is there more? Chomp chomp".

I couldn't have asked for a better farewell-to-summer barbeque. When finished, we pushed our plates away, lay back and had a proper mid-afternoon snooze, safe in the knowledge that our corn on the cob were steaming away under the lid of the barbeque in their leaves, ready for us to slather with more butter and eat once we arose from our little siesta.

Sweet Chilli Jam

2009-09-27T17:12:00.007+01:00

This year, given that we have a sizeable baclony, I decided to try and grow my own vegetables. I bought a mains-heated propagator, planted some seeds, crossed my fingers and hoped for the best. A few months later after getting my hands dirty in transporting seedlings into pots, long finger-sized cayenne chillis started appearing. Little round green cherry tomatoes popped up and ripened to a golden yellow. Most recently, bulbous aubergines have popped out of the purple flowers, making me squeal with excitement. Sadly the courgette plant withered and died a slow death. Nevertheless, I was a pleased plant mother.

As I have about 7 or 8 chilli plants, I have had an abundant crop. They haven't all turned red at once and I worried if they would at all. Slowly but surely, they did. A batch of them have been drying on the windowsill as their withered bodies would make great curry pastes but I didn't want to put these, that I picked this morning, in the fridge or freezer to use as and when; I felt they should take a more centre stage. I had a recipe for sweet chilli sauce saved up, which I thought would be the perfect way to use these, especially as it keeps for a good 2 or 3 months. I also threw in some fresh green peppercorns I had in a lovely hamper my friends put together for me as a birthday present which made it look really pretty.

Sweet Chilli Jam

10 or 11 cayenne chillis (use milder ones if you don't want it too spicy)
2 cloves of garlic
2" piece of ginger
200gr jam sugar
1 tsp salt
2 tbsp fish sauce
220ml cider vinegar
110ml water
1 1/2 tbsp arrowroot powder, slackened with water
A few fresh green peppercorns (optional)

Chop and deseed the chillies (I did half deseeded, half not as I like it hot). Finely mince the garlic and the ginger. Throw this minus the arrowroot in a food processor and blitz to a paste. This also works in a mortar and pestle (I don't have a food processor). Add the whole lot to a saucepan and simmer for 20 - 25 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the slackened arrowroot to thicken the mixture. Sterilize an airtight jar and add the jam to the jar. Leave to cool completely, then put the lid on.

I've just had a taste of the jam and it is super hot, tangy and sweet at the same time. Just how I like it. If you have less of a palate for spicy foods, use less hot chillis or reduce the number of chillis you use or it might make you cry. This would go really well with spring rolls, squid, to dip wedges in... all sorts really.

More South East Love - Le Querce

2009-09-25T10:50:00.008+01:00

Last night I managed to cross off another restaurant on my ever-growing 'must try' list. This was Le Querce, an Italian restaurant just two stops away from me in Honor Oak Park. Ben from London Food & Drink wrote a great review on it recently which got it on the list in the first place, so when a friend of mine suggested we visit, I was game. It didn't bother him that he's been three times in the last two weeks.

Approaching the restaurant, you may be forgiven for not giving it a second glace. Inside, the decor is basic but homely and I liked the giant bulb of garlic that decorated our table. We were given slightly tatty menus which were quite short, and our charming waitress reeled off a list of starters, pizzas and mains from the specials board. While supping on a Sardinian lager that I forget the name of, I found it really difficult to choose. I knew I wanted a pasta dish, but there were many dishes I also wanted too so that in the end it took me a good 10 or 15 minutes to finally make my mind up. I had a rather exasperated companion.

My (rather poorly photographed) starter arrived , ravioli with ricotta and sage butter. The pasta was stuffed with greens and creamy cheese, and the butter sauce was rich with a subtle hint of sage and grated Parmesan on top. I never usually order pasta in restaurants as there are usually more interesting options, but I was really glad I did here. The home-made pasta was silky and perfectly cooked, and the well seasoned filling was delicious. I could have easily polished off a bucket of this. We were given some lovely fresh loose-crumbed bread to accompany it and I mopped up any remaining sage butter greedily. We were off to a good start.

Calves liver with baby onions, sage & spinach

For my main, I went for the double sage option and had the calves liver, cooked medium served with baby onions, sage and spinach. I've only had calves liver once before at Locanda Locatelli and the portion was so enormous that it turned out to be a bit of a struggle. I can happily report this wasn't the case here; the slices of liver were buttery on the inside and the portion size just right. I would have liked a few more of the caramelised baby onions though, as their sweetness went really well with the liver. Again, this was greedily mopped up with some more bread.

Being such a rich dish, by this time I was pretty stuffed. However, the ice creams are something of a speciality at Le Querce. The long list of ice creams or sorbets includes onion or garlic ice cream, pear & Pernod sorbet, apple & black pepper ice cream. We went for a scoop of chilli ice cream, a scoop of aubergine and a scoop of the strawberry and balsamic sorbet. The aubergine ice cream, greyish in colour didn't taste of much but the chilli was really surprising. It was almond flavoured, and once the cold ice cream got warmer in the mouth, you got a real chilli kick. The strawberry balsamic was also delicious and really moreish. While we were chatting to the owner about how the chilli ice cream is made, he told us that he thought the most successful sorbet is the strawberry, chilli and blue curaco and presented us with a scoop of it; he was right, of course, and this combined our two favourite flavours.

The bill in total came to £75 including a bottle of Prosecco and a couple of beers, which I thought was really good value given the quality of the cooking and the service - the waiting staff were all really friendly and personable. Whilst I wouldn't recommend you hike across London to visit if you lived in, say North West London, it's a great neighbourhood restaurant for us South East dwellers and somewhere I'll definitely return.

Le Querce

66 Brockley Rise,

London SE23 1LN

Tel: 020 86903761

Paul A. Young

2009-09-21T20:30:00.006+01:00

I have to admit, when I was invited to a bloggers' tasting at Paul A. Young in Islington, I was hesitant. I'm not a huge fan of chocolate, and I can usually take it or leave it as I prefer salty snacks. In the end, I decided to go as I figured that if anyone could change my mind, this was the man to do so as his chocolate is so highly regarded.

The shop is small, decorated in purple and it smelled deliciously of warm chocolate. After a quick lesson on how to taste chocolate (minimal chewing, some deep breathing, letting it melt on the tongue), we cracked on with the tasting. We tasted chocolate of different cocoa percentages from three main chocolate producers; Valrhona, Amedei and Michel Cluizel. Interestingly, I learned that cocoa butter is the most epensive ingredient in chocolate making. Also, chocolate from beans grown on the Ivory Coast have a slight hint of coconut about it, whereas Madagascan chocolate is more fruity. The more fermented the cocoa beans are, the more sour tang you get from tasting it.

The first chocolate to kick us off was one of my favourites; 40% Valrhona Jivara milk chocolate. It was wonderfully rich with hints of caramel and had a slight malty flavour to it. On the other end of the spectrum, I physically recoiled and screwed my face up on tasting the 100% manjari pate Madagascan Valrhona; it was over-whelmingly strong (as one might expect from 100%) but also sour to the point of bitter. Other attendees liked it though. Another favourite of mine was the 75% Amedei 9, made from cocoa beans from 9 different plantations. This had a velvet-like mouthfeel, and the smoky yet balanced flavours lingered pleasantly.

By this point, I had realised that Paul is an extremely passionate man, and puts a lot of thought into his chocolates. He refuses to use any machinery, tempering his chocolate on marble instead and all the chocolates he makes are made using high-quality ingredients. There are no hydrogenated fats used (...don't get him started on palm oil...) nor glucose syrups. The truffles he makes, each and every one by hand, will only last 7 days. You've got to really admire someone who goes to all that trouble, when others get away with using machines.

At the end of the evening, Paul gave us some of his truffles to try. We started off with this seasonal truffle, port & Stilton. He had wanted to just use Stilton, but discovered that the mould growing on the cheese tended to make the truffles explode, and had to add port to prevent this from happening. It was no great loss to add the port, as I felt they went very well together. I really enjoyed this, it was startling and made you sit up and pay attention. Next, we had one of Paul's award-winning sea-salted caramels. After my first bite into it, I fell in love. It was stunning. I wanted to be alone with it. Lastly, a Marmite truffle was scoffed up easily too. I had expected it's innards to be thick and viscous, but they were pleasantly light. As a Marmite lover, this went down all too easily.

After a quick tour round the kitchen, we were on our way, armed with a goody bag. I stepped into the night with a glow about me and a bounce in my step; glad to have discovered something that I had previously thought lost to me.

Paul A. Young

33 Camden Passage
Islington
London
N1 8EA

Tel/Fax: 020 7424 5750

Onion, Anchovy & Spinach Quiche

2009-09-19T13:28:00.005+01:00

One of my most favourite pasta dishes is onion and anchovy spaghetti. It's so beautifully simple; onions, sweated down until almost a mush for 45 minutes, and then milk-soaked tinned anchovy fillets added until broken down and emulsified with a little of the milk to make a sauce. A liberal handful of parsley and lots of black pepper complete the dish. It's extremely moreish and I eat it at least once every two weeks.

In a fit of experimentation, I thought that this would be quite fitting for a quiche filling, as anchovy goes well with eggs (as I've recently discovered with soft boiled eggs and anchovy soliders). My fridge was teeming with vibrant green, sturdy and leafy bundles of spinach I'd picked up from the market; none of this shrinking, watery stuff so this also went in. For my first attempt at quiche, I thought it was a really good effort. The filling wasn't overly eggy and was baked until just set so it stayed soft and creamy. The subtle anchovy flavour was complimented with the iron-rich spinach and the sweet onions.

Onion, Anchovy & Spinach Quiche

Serves 6

For the filling:

3 large white onions, sliced finely
6 anchovy fillets
A large handful of choppedflat leaf parsley
2 generous handfuls of spinach
2 eggs
285ml double cream
Plenty of black pepper
Parmesan (optional)

For the pastry:

280gr plain flour
140gr very cold butter, cut into cubes

Heat some oil in a non stick frying pan and add the onions. Fry on a low eat, stirring occasionally until they become very soft. This will take about half an hour - 45 minutes. Chop the anchovies up and add to the onions, frying them until they dissolve a little. Then add the spinach andfry until wilted. There shouldn't be too much moisture in the pan. Set to one side.

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees celcius. To make the pastry, tip the flour and butter into a bowl, then rub together with your fingertips until completely mixed and crumbly. Add 8 tbsp cold water, then bring everything together with your hands until just combined. Roll into a ball, dust a work surface and a rolling pin with flour and roll out to about 5cm bigger than your quiche case (mine was 25cm). Pick it up by rolling it over the rolling pin and lay into your case. Using a ball of scrap pastry, gently push the pastry into the grooves of the tin. Prick the base with a fork, then lay a greaseproof sheet of paper over it and fill with baking beans. Blind bake for at least 25 - 30 minutes.

Next, whisk the eggs and cream together and then add to the onion mixture and the parsley. Add a touch of salt and lots of black pepper and mix together thoroughly. Add this to the quiche case, top with some grated Parmesan, and bake for 20 - 25 minutes until golden and set. Leave to cool in the case, trim the edges of the pastry and eat warm or cold - I preferred it warm.

Macmillan Coffee Morning

2009-09-13T17:53:00.025+01:00

A good friend of mine works for Macmillan Cancer Support, and she asked me if I fancied getting involved in a campaign of theirs, called Macmillan Coffee Morning. The idea is to either bake or buy some cakes, invite your friends over or bring them to work, have a coffee, eat some cake and make a small donation to Macmillan. The official date for this is Friday 25th September, but you can really do it whenever you like. I agreed to do it with some trepidation; after all, I'm not much of a baker. Nevertheless, I thought this would be a good learning curve, and all for a good cause too.

I picked Saturday 12th September to host the coffee morning at my flat. As I was inviting friends from all over London, I didn't want to choose a Sunday as more likely than not, there would be transport issues. With this in mind, I took the Friday previous to it off work, and a friend and I set about baking some cakes.

As we started baking, we realised that perhaps 4 cakes wouldn't be enough for 16 or so people. I wanted to have a decent variety of cakes even if it did mean leftovers, so we added another two to the list. The trusted blueberry cake got jazzed up with using raspberries as well in the mix. Next up, seeing as it was a coffee theme, we decided upon a Irish coffee meringue roulade, taken from Rachel Allen's 'Bake'. The coffee-scented meringue was made on the Friday, with the boozy filling of whiskey, coffee and whipped cream rolled into it last minute on the Saturday.

It looks like a bit of a car crash - or some sort of ancient rock, but interestingly it was the first one to get scoffed up. Probably the booze.

Other favourites were this pear and almond cake. I had the recipe saved on my laptop for a while, but I have no idea where it's from. If anyone knows, then let me know and I'll credit them.

Pear and almond cake

Serves 6

175g unsalted butter, softened
125g caster sugar, plus 1 tbsp
3 pears, firm but not too hard, peeled, cored and quartered - we used William pears
2 eggs
75g ground almonds
75g self-raising flour

Preheat the oven to 170C/325F/gas mark 3. Grease a 20cm diameter, springform cake tin and line the base with baking parchment.

Put a frying pan over a medium heat and add 25g of the butter. When it's sizzling, add a tablespoon of sugar and stir until it dissolves. Add the pear quarters and fry in the buttery caramel for five to 10 minutes, until they start to brown and soften (the time taken will vary greatly, depending on how ripe the pears are). Put to one side to cool a little.

Put the remaining butter and sugar in a mixing bowl and cream together until light and fluffy. Beat in the two eggs, one at a time. Tip the ground almonds into the cake batter, then sift in the self-raising flour and fold in gently. Scrape the mixture into the prepared tin. Arrange the pieces of pear on top of the cake. Bake for about 45 minutes, or until a skewer pushed into the centre comes out clean. Place the tin on a wire rack to cool. Serve warm or cold.

Lemon drizzle cake was given a bit of a makeover with the addition of poppy seeds, and it was nice and tangy. On holiday earlier this year, two of my friends made a Victoria sponge with orange cream which worked beautifully, so we modified this one so taking inspiration from that by sandwiching it with lemon curd and cream whipped with orange zest to give it a fruity twist. Lastly, a flourless chocolate cake was fudgy, rich and dense. Given it was the only chocolate on offer, I was surprised that it was the least popular. Perhaps something to do with our dusting of icing sugar, which was a bit of a botch job as we'd added too much and then had to brush some off.

No party is complete without some sausage rolls, and these were expertly made by Helen using puff pastry. To 10 sausages-worth of meat we added the zest of a lemon, a hefty pinch or two of chilli, and a handful of finely chopped parsley, which gave them a kick and a lift. Brushed with egg, these were deicious warm out of the oven and were all eaten. Similarly, we made some Parmesan straws and some anchovy straws, also out of puff pastry. These were pretty simple to make but were so delicious - how could they not be, with all that umami. The anchovy ones were my favourite and delivered a mouth-watering, salty hit.

While we were baking on Friday, I had a last minute panic that there wouldn't be enough savoury food so, having a look through the fridge, decided to do a Stilton, spinach and roasted red pepper quiche. Rather rustic-looking, as I snapped off the pastry sides rather impatiently but this, served cold, also went down extremely well and there wasn't a scrap left.

When it came to Saturday morning, I was racked with nerves. I'd asked people to come round at 2pm, but there was still so much to do - like sandwiching the sponge together, decorating the chocolate cake, rolling the meringue. Not to mention tidying the flat and making it all look presentable. I ran into a couple of hitches; the coffee mugs promised to me and the actual coffee itself failed to materialise. I had a little panic, and then as I was basking out in the morning sun, I had a brainwave. It was too hot for coffee - I'd make iced Irish coffees instead. My blender does have an ice-crushing mode, after all. Another thing that failed for us was when we tried to make pork scratchings with sheets of pig skin bought from Morrisons, specifically for this purpose. It just didn't work out under the grill or shallow fried, and we were too scared to deep fry it. So it went in the freezer. If anyone has any suggestions of what to do with about half a kilo of pork skin, let me know.

We nervously watched the clock and put the finishing touches on to everything and everyone started to arrive. Our 6.5 hours worth of baking, stressing out and general hard work paid off; we had a fantastic day in the sunshine of my balcony, eating cake and between us we managed to raise £175 (including donations of two friends who couldn't make it).

I would really recommend doing a coffee morning yourself. We all had a great time catching up, and it gave us an excuse to binge on cake all in the name of charity. Of course, you don't need to go to as much trouble; you can buy the cakes, or get each friend to bring a cake, whatever really. Do let me know if you do a coffee morning of your own; leave me a comment or email me.

A full Flickr set is here and if you do your own Coffee Morning, please take photos, upload them to Flickr and add them to this group so we can all have a nose at the lovely cakes you've baked or bought. A couple of people have asked me where to donate if they wanted to, so I have set up a Just Giving page, here.

So now, a thank you to all my lovely friends who turned up and donated generously. In particular, a huge thank you to Helen for being my baking buddy for a marathon 7 hours, and without which I'd be a nervous, under-prepared wreck. Given that I've never hosted a party of this size, it was invaluable having her there. Another thank you goes to Gin & Crumpets for lending me cake stands and cake slices.

Finally, a big thank-you-I-love-you to the good people at Kitchenaid. They contacted me and donated me The Beast to help us out with our baking; without it our cakes would have been miserable shadows of what they were.

Not-So-Soft Pretzels

2009-09-11T21:14:00.007+01:00

Honey & Cinnamon Pretzels

I used to live with a girl who loved pretzels so much that a friend of hers knitted her a pretzel shape out of orange wool. I too love pretzels (and by this I mean big doughy ones rather than the small crisp ones, though being a member of Salty Snacks Anonymous naturally I like them a lot too) but it's not easy to buy them. There's a branch of Auntie Ann's Soft Pretzels in Croydon, but a 40 minute round trip is a bit drastic to satisfy a craving.

Last Sunday while I didn't have any plans, I decided to try and make my own . I consulted 'Bake' by Rachel Allen, and lo and behold - a pretzel recipe jumped forth. As with all bread recipes, it was quite a lengthy one as you need to wait to prove the dough.

Soft Pretzels

Makes 10 - 14

450g strong white flour, sifted
150gr strong brown flour, sifted
1 level tsp fast acting yeast
2 tbsp soft light brown sugar
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp vegetable oil
375ml warm water

For the bicarb solution:
75gr bicarbonate of soda
1 litre of water

Mix the two flours, salt, sugar and yeast in a large bowl (or in my case, the bowl of my mixer). Mix the oil into the water in a measuring jug, and turn the mixer on with the dough hook (or mixing by hand), adding the water and oil solution as you go, until you get a soft dough. Add more water or flour where necessary to ensure it's not too dry or sticky. Knead for 10 minutes, place the dough in an oiled bowl and allow to rise to double, about 2 hours.

Preheat the oven to 230 degrees Celcius. Punch back the dough and knead on a lightly floured surface and then divide it into 10 - 14 balls, each weighing about 100gr. Line a baking tray with parchment. Roll each ball into a sausage shape the thickness of a pencil and then roll it as per this video. Allow to rise for a further 20 minutes.

Bring the water to the boil in a saucepan and dissolve the bicarb in it. Leave it on a simmer and add each pretzel, no more than 3 at a time, to poach for 30 seconds each side. Remove and place on the baking trays. Sprinkle with rock salt, poppy seeds or sesame seeds and bake for 8 - 10 minutes, cooling them on wire racks. Alternatively, bake them plain and then brush with butter melted with sugar, honey and cinnamon.

Several things happened while the pretzels were being made. We got hungry, and so scarfed a whole load of quiche and were a bit full. Then, just as we were doing the poaching / baking, I pulled a plate out of the shelf and one fell out. I tried to catch it, but as it broke a piece jumped up and sliced my thumb open, resulting in much blood, a bit of squealing, and general chaos. So therefore I don't blame Rachel Allen when I say the pretzels were just ok. Truth be told, they were pretty tough and chewy, which is not what I want out of a pretzel. I believe this may be down to over poaching of the pretzel. Or pehaps it was over-kneaded? The recipe specifies 10 minutes by hand, but doesn't say for a mixer. One other problem might have been the inclusion of brown flour which perhaps made them a bit heavier.

I have no idea; I'm an ignoramous when it comes to bread. Either way, when I try it again, I'll be halving the recipe; 10 - 14 pretzels is far too many. Any uneaten ones made a good door stop though.

John Torode's Chicken and Other Birds

2009-09-09T20:17:00.006+01:00

Chicken is my least favourite meat. I like it, of course; but I think there are much tastier meats out there. Pork tops this list. When Quadrille Publishing asked me if I'd like to review this cookbook, I said yes as I could do with more interesting chicken recipes. Besides which, it also involves other birds, such as pigeon, pheasant and partridge which I've had minimal experience of cooking.

The book has beautifully styled photos which are drool-worthy. Torode writes well, in a no-nonsense, straight-forward fashion and given that his last book was simply titled 'Beef', he gives the impression that he knows his meat. There's no flowery language here. It's split into chapters including soups, curries, barbeque and roasts, and helpfully it also includes a step by step guide on how to joint a chicken, something I've always been too daunted to try myself. I haven't quite got round to it yet, but it's a good cost saving trick as you'll get more for your money by buying chickens whole. In addition to this, there's an extensive list detailing the different birds, as well as when the game seasons begin and end; a very handy guide. I didn't even know there was an edible bird called Ptarmigan until I read this. There is also a little blurbs dotted here and there, such as detailing how best to carve a roast chicken, and a method to cook duck breasts. I for one didn't know that you should start them off skin side down in a cold pan.

I decided to try out the Chicken Kiev, especially as it's billed as 'the perfect recipe'. My picture is decidedly more... rustic than that of the photo in the book, but it was pretty damn good. Garlicky, lemon-scented butter burst forth from the crisply coated chicken supreme, lubricating the mash that accompanied it. I made a right mess of the kitchen what with the double egg and flour dipping but it made sure that the pocket of buttery goodness was well encased, something that us cooks mortally fear will go wrong and end up as a big puddle in the baking tray. The chicken, having been fried and finished off in the oven, was perfectly cooked and moist throughout.

I've already bookmarked several recipes to try, such as game terrine, devilled chicken livers and pigeon and bacon with sweetcorn fritters. There's also a list of game dealers which is where I'll be going to pick up some grouse, a bird I've heard talked much about and haven't yet had the opportunity to try. This book is perfect for anyone like me, who wants to try cooking new birds.

There is, however, one recipe which I definitely won't be trying - 'spaghetti with curried chicken balls'. It sounds like every kind of wrong... so maybe I should give it a go.

Released 4th September, priced £20

A Day in Paris

2009-09-03T20:32:00.030+01:00

You may have seen all over the blogosphere that quite a few bloggers went on a day trip to Lille, courtesy of Eurostar, arranged by their PR, We Are Social. I was invited, but you can imagine how much my heart sank when I saw that the date they had decided on was the same weekend I had a friend coming to visit. I was pretty gutted.

So a few days later, when they asked me if I wanted to go on my own Little Break to either Paris, Lille or Brussels, I gave a little squeal of excitement and bounced up and down in my chair. I chose Paris, having only been there once before when I was dragged around the place on my art A Level trip. Back then, a gaggle of over-excited 17 year old girls are predisposed to guzzle down 3 Euro bottles of plonk and in the ensuing hangover, I didn't feel as if I really embraced the experience. We did something crazy like 700 galleries in 2 days (yes, I exaggerate; but only a bit) and the over-riding memory is one of exhaustion.

The premise of Little Break, Big Difference is that you can travel to either Paris, Lille or Brussels from £59 return for October. Not only that, but you get a seat in Leisure Select, where they serve you a meal and drinks, including Champagne on the way home. This really takes the chore out of travelling; the check-in and passport control for Eurostar is much quicker than at an airport, and you actually get leg room.

I decided just to go for the day, and that I would do Paris on a budget. Rather, it wasn't so much a decision I made, but one that was forced upon me, considering my folorn bank account. I skidded towards the Eurostar gates with barely a minute to spare, and a friend and I set off on our little break.

Of course, food is always at the forefront of my mind, so I did a little cursory research into cheap bistros to lunch at. I didn't want to plan too much, as it can sometimes take away the adventure aspect of the trip, but with a vague idea in mind we headed off in search of the Eiffel Tower.

It was a speedy ascent up the stairs to begin with, and then as my smoker's lungs started to heave a little, I turned to my friend. Her face was white. "Mate, I think I'm going to vom". I laughed, until I realised she did look a bit peaky. Little did either of us know that her dislike of heights was actually vertigo. We had a long way to go until we reached the first platform. We were rewarded with a pretty good view or two.

We began the much slower ascent to the second level. We had only the thought of getting to the top in our heads now. Her face grew ever more worried and I refrained from telling her that the people down below looked like ants. I myself lost balance and had a good ol' wobble.

Alas, ths is as high as we went. We bought tickets thinking that they'd take us all the way to the top, but when we got to the second stage they tried to charge us again and we balked, favouring to get the lift down to safe ground.

All this clambering up stairs really got our appetites up, and by the time we found Le Repaire de Cartouche, it was 1:30pm, we'd been up for 8 hours, and we were pretty famished. We entered into a dark and busy dining room, with tables packed closely together and squeezed into our seats. We had specifically chosen this bistro because of it's 14 Euro lunch menu. With a choice of 4 starters to choose from and two mains, I went for the 'Salade Escarolle avec Mimmosa' which was just that; leaves well dressed into a fruity olive oil, topped with hard boiled egg pushed through a sieve.

Across the other side of the table, the 'Terrine de Campagne' was a hearty slice and sat atop a salad of herbs. I was jealous, even if I did get to eat half of it, as it was the better of the two. For mains, a pan-fried slice of cod with a caper butter sauce was over-salted, but otherwise a good solid dish. We washed all this down with a bottle of Côteaux d’Aix en Provence rosé which was light and refreshing, and helped take the edge off the embarrassment of being stared at quite openly by our fellow diners. We were taking pictures of the food, after all.

After settling the bill, we emerged into the street, blinking as if we'd just exited the cinema. We waddled towards to Pompidou Centre and had a good look around:

After a cheeky Leffe, we then strolled down the banks of the Seine, to the Louvre.

We didn't much fancy going inside and were rapidly running out of time, and so we decided to jump on the Metro to the Champs-Élysées.

It was high time for another drink and some nibbles and so we attempted to go to Racines, a wine bar recommended by Time Out. It was supposedly hidden down this eerily quiet alley way, but it seems to have closed down as we walked round it twice and couldn't find it.

Somewhat dejected, we decided to plonk ourselves down at a nearby bar for an eye-watering 8 Euro beer. Ouch. By this time our 5am wake-ups were starting to get the better of us. We stared off into space, cigarettes dangling between fingers, barely able to string a sentence together. Food bloggers need regular feeding, otherwise this is what becomes of us.

Not to be beaten, we decided to go back to Le Gare du Nord, to see if we could find anything there. Somewhat apprehensively we asked a nice lady in the pharmacy if she could recommend anywhere to eat; she replied enthusiastically. The little restaurant was empty save two or three tables, but it looked homely. After we ordered our four course menu (the only available), we realised there was no way we could finish it in the 50 minutes it was until our train to take us home. The waiter agreed to let us have just a starter and a main.

The rillettes of rabbit was huge. Accompanied by a basket of bread and a pot or gherkins, I was pretty full when I finished this. The tender meat was generously seasoned, and the acidity of the gherkins cut through the richness well.

We scoffed our starters down, and waited impatiently for the main. The clock ticked by slowly and I wondered if we would be stranded in Paris, having missed the last train home. Our mains arrived shortly after, and this beef dish was delicious; the consommé was delicately spiced with star anise and the pieces of fennel added to the aniseed aroma. The beef was tender and slightly gelatinous. I scoffed it down in 10 minutes flat. We slapped down the very last of our Euros, finished off the dregs of our beers and legged it for our train.

Unfortunately I can't remember the name of the restaurant. If it helps, it's opposite a pharmacy around the corner from a wedding dress shop by Le Gare du Nord.

Thankfully, we made it. We were exhausted, full and more than a little sleepy. It was a long day - I left the house at 6am and got home at 11:30pm - but well worth it. I spent exactly 100 Euros, which was the budget I was hoping for. While sipping on the complimentary Champagne on the way home, we mused over the day's events; we'd crammed a lot in. Perhaps we could have been more organised, since we did do a bit of a zig zag around the city, but we're not really that type of people and our way had suited us fine.

So there you have it - a whirlwind tour of Paris. Whilst I would recommend staying a bit longer if you wanted to actually go into the museums and galleries, we had a brilliant time having a good walk around and taking in the sights. And no, we did not go to Ladurée or Pierre Hermé for macarons. We didn't have cakes or pastries; neither of us have a sweet tooth and it didn't appeal.

For the full Flickr set, including Helen's fear face, click here.

Dolsot Bibimbap - Well, Kind Of...

2009-08-29T00:23:00.008+01:00

I say not quite because 'dolsot' means stone pot, and I used a clay pot. I cheated... but I prefer to say I improvised.

Bibimbap is a popular Korean dish. The word translates to 'mixed meal', and it consists of a dish of rice topped with vegetables, usually placed together to be aesthetically pleasing. Sometimes, slices of beef, chicken or tofu are also added.

I love Korean food. Kimchi, a spicy fermented vegetable (usually cabbage) dish, is a regular in my fridge. You can smell it a mile off and it's really tasty stuff either just eaten with rice, as a side or added to stir fried dishes. When I was a kid my mum used to take my sister and I to Korean restaurants and we loved the barbeque aspect of it, cooking your own food. My dad (who, incidentally, has started his own blog; check it out) was less enthusiastic, commenting that he thought it strange to pay for the privilege of having to cook your own food. But I found that's what I liked about it. Sadly I've noticed that in London Korean restaurants they usually have waiting staff to stand over you and cook your barbeque for you which I find a bit awkward.

Anyway, the bibimbap is a dish we usually order, and in particular this dolsot bibimbap. The stone pots used to serve this dish are heated until very hot, then wiped round with sesame oil. The rice is then added, along with the other ingredients and topped with a raw egg. You then mix it all up and it sizzles nicely, with the residual heat cooking the egg in the process, coating the grains in silky luxuriousness. The great thing about the dolsot is that you get a lovely layer of brown, crusty rice from the bottom that provides a great texture to your meal.

I decided to make this with my clay pot. I have used it only once before and I thought it was high time I got more use out of it. It worked fantastically well. Even though the sizzle was less enthusiastic, the end result worked. It doesn't take long to do; about the amount of time it takes to cook the rice, but there is a hefty amount of prep work involved. In any case, I like chopping vegetables. You can buy stone pots in Korean supermarkets or use a clay pot from a Chinese supermarket. If you use the latter, please follow these instructions on how to use it or you may end up with exploding clay...

Dolsot Bibimbap
Serves 2

Any vegetables really, but I used...
4 cherry tomatoes
1 carrot
1 courgette
3 handfuls of spinach
A handful of marinated beansprouts (Sukju Namul - I used this recipe)
1 egg
100gr fillet steak, or I used minced beef
1 spring onion
150gr sushi rice

For the marinade:

3 tbsp rice vinegar
1 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 tsp sesame oil

For the chilli sauce:

2 tbsp Korean chilli paste (Gochujang)
1 tbsp rice vinegar
1 fat clove of garlic, chopped finely
1.5 tbsp soy sauce
1 tsp sesame oil

If you're using a stone bowl, these can be heated on the hob. As I was using a clay pot and was a bit scared of putting it on a naked flame on only it's second outing, I placed it into a cold over and heated it up to 200 degrees 15 minutes before I started cooking.

Firstly, put the rice on to cook. I did this in a rice cooker, but if you haven't got one follow the instructions on the packet. I imagine you could also do this with jasmine rice. I then made the marinated beansprouts, but this could be done in advance. Julienne the courgette and carrot, slice the spring onions. All the vegetables should be kept separate. Make up the marinade and divide in two - dump the raw beef slices in the marinade. If using mince, fry it in a non stick pan, then add to the marinade. Make up the chilli sauce by combining all of the above in a bowl.

Here comes the faff. Slice the cherry tomatoes in half. Get a steamer on (or a small pan of boiling water) and steam the spinach until just cooked. Add to a sieve to get rid of any water. Then add the courgette, steam until just done, and then add the carrots and, like before, steam until just done. Put all the elements, separately, in the clean marinade for a few moments and then place on a place. To assemble, wipe the stone pot or the clay pot with a little sesame oil. Add a thin layer of rice to the pot - it should sizzle - and place it back on the heat / in the oven so that it heats up and cooks the layer of rice to form a bit of a crust. Then add the rest of the rice, and top it with the meat and vegetables, arranging it nicely (or how you please). Top with a raw egg. Bring it to tableside (remember to use an oven glove... I didn't) with the bowl of chilli sauce. The eater then stirs the pot around, cooking the beef slices a little and the egg.

Morgan M, Islington

2009-08-24T21:01:00.014+01:00

Firstly, a disclaimer. I didn't pay for this meal. I met up with the lady who does PR for Morgan M, and we had a little chat about food blogging and social media. I guess you could say I was giving her some advice; while I'm not an expert, I know a bit about it and I'm on it enough to be able to be of some help. So when she asked if I'd like to review the restaurant, I said yes, as the restaurant has been on my wish list for some time, since I'd first heard it recommended heartily on the BBC Food Messageboard.

On a balmy summer's evening, we had a cheeky drink before trekking down Liverpool Road. The area became more and more suburban, and we wondered whether we had taken a wrong turning. We hadn't, and I was surprised by how unassuming the restaurant front was. Upon entering, it was very hushed. The dining room was small, and there was only one or two other tables occupied. The restaurant soon filled up as the evening went on. There is definitely a green theme throughout; the menu was green, as was the seating and a couple of walls. We were advised to get the tasting menu.

After some delicious bread, we started off with gazpacho, with a tomato and olive oil sorbet. I was a bit nervous about this, as I've recently discovered that I don't like gazpacho. I've had it several times before and even tested a gazpacho recipe, but if you'll excuse the pun, it leaves me a bit cold. This one was different though. Rich, with an almost creamy feel to it, it left me wanting more. The sorbet had a decent olive oil flavour to it and I was sad when it was finished.

The tasting menu had separate options to choose from, and I chose the scallop tartare three ways. On the left hand side the basil sorbet that adorned the scallop tartare was wonderfully herby. The middle pile hiding under the leaves sat upon a romanesco-style sauce, and the far right had more of that tomato sorbet, with the tartare itself mixed with a little diced mango and cucumber. The tapenade dribbled down the sides added a welcome salty hit. Of the meal, I felt that this was the least successful dish. Although visually stunning, the delicate sweetness of the scallop was a bit lost and the dish would have benifitted from a stronger flavoured fish.

My least favourite dish of the meal was followed by the best of the evening; red mullet with razor clams, fennel pureé and a saffron foam. When it was first placed in front of me, my heart skipped a beat and I thought it was a slab of belly tuna. My eyesight isn't great. The red mullet, though not crispy skinned, was perfectly cooked and melted in the mouth. The saffron foam was in no way bird-spit-like, as some foams can turn out to be, but was flavoursome and highlighted the freshness of the fish. I wanted a big trough of this. Razor clams with diced tomatoes gave a pleasing texture contrast and fennel pureé added a luxuriousness to the dish. Lovely stuff.

For my next choice, I went for rabbit with mustard, steamed gnocchi and courgette in a parsley sauce. This arrived without the sauce, which was then poured over the dish tableside. I'm not sure what this contributed, but I was excited by the little rabbit chops. They were so weeny! The gnocchi was light as a feather, which isn't something you experience every day as it has such a tendency to be a complete stodge-fest. Under the saddle of rabbit was spinach, which hid a cake of rabbit meat mixed with wholegrain mustard. Some consider courgettes to be a rather dull vegetable, but here, steamed provided a light contrast to what was otherwise a rich dish. The rolled rabbit meat on top of the tower were delicious and full of flavour but if anything, the rabbit and mustard meat underneath could have done with a lighter hand with the salt. Otherwise it was a very satisfying dish. I gnawed those little bones dry of the succulent meat.

By this point, I was feeling pretty full. I had a quick look at the menu, and hoped that the 'Light Vanilla Rice Pudding' would be true to it's name. I had horrible visions of a big bowl of steaming rice in a creamy sauce, and I breathed a sigh of relief when this was set before me. The rice pudding is nestled inside the orange scented tuile, with a passionfruit sorbet and sauce providing an ample tang to contrast the sweet vanilla. The perfect prelude to the apricot soufflé to follow.

The soufflé had risen perfectly, which I'm sure anyone who cooks (and even if you don't) knows that this is no easy feat. I've had many a lopsided soufflé but there was no hint of a sag here. The soufflé was cut into by our server, and a coulis of apricot poured inside it. This was delicious; beautifully light and foamy inside. To accompany was a rosemary ice cream. I've never tried rosemary ice cream, but I think I'll try making some at home as it was very moreish. I really loved all the crockery the food immaculately was served on. The plates with the matte cocentric circles were so pretty, it almost drove me to kleptomania. If only I could fit one in my handbag.

We had a good go at some pretty little petit fours, but were too stuffed to finish them off. Service was proficient if a little cold, but Morgan Meunier came and had a quick chat with us which was a pleasant surprise; he seemed like a very nice man and answered my inane question graciously.

While the food wasn't earth shattering, I came away feeling really well looked after, as if I'd been wrapped up in cotton wool and given a big hug simultaneously. The red mullet was a stand-out dish, and showed that they really know what they're doing in the kitchen. As we left we did wonder why it had been over-looked by Michelin; lack of amuses? Its suburban location? Whatever; it's worth the trip.

Morgan M

489 Liverpool Road,

Islington

London N7 8NS

Tel: 020 7609 3560

Meze Mangal, New Cross / St John's / Brockley - Eating Locally

2009-08-20T11:12:00.011+01:00

Aside from a five month stint in Collier's Wood down the arse-end of the Northern line, for all of my life in London I've lived in the south east. Starting off in Brockley, I then moved to Charlton, then Lee which was actually just a road, and now New Cross. I prefer to stay south east, I find it has more character than places I've been to in North London. I feel safer here than in East London, and I (nor my bank account) won't entertain the idea of living in West London.

South East London has its good points; lots of green, open spaces such as Greenwich Park and Blackheath means that frolicking in the park is easily done on the rare weekends that we have some sun. Travel is also cheaper on the overground, and I don't have to get the dreaded tube every day. However, there was a lack of decent restaurants in both Lee and Charlton. So when I had a little dig around about restaurants in and around New Cross, I was surprised when I had three mentioned to me with a few more in the surrounding area.

Meze Mangal is situated on a run-down and crappy part of Lewisham Way, near New Cross station. The frontage doesn't reveal what lies within; peeling paint and random car tyres strewn around give it a slightly menacing air. A friend and I visited on a Monday night and the waiter looked doubtful about whether we could have a table; I was surprised to hear that they're fully booked most nights but eventually we were seat by the long charcoal grill pit. The restaurant's card with contact details was pressed into my hand: "next time you won't be so lucky - you must book!"

We decided on sharing three starters. I'm a sucker for aubergines, and this aubergine with spicy tomato sauce was suitably delicious. Smoky, oily and with a decent kick, we mopped this up greedily. Calamari was well cooked and grease-free with a decent hazelnut sauce on the side to liven things up. Houmous was rough in texture, garlicky and moreish. A recent meal at Yalla Yalla, a Lebanese place in Soho yielded a silky smooth houmous; both were equally as good.

All this was scooped up with excellent warm bread. I find it difficult to hold back during starters, and I was almost full by the time we'd finished.

For the mains, I chose a pide with cheese and Turkish sausage. This is a boat-shaped pizza and whilst it was good, it was exactly as you see and I was a bit breaded out. My friend chose a lamb shish kebab (top picture) which is what I'll be having next time. The meat took on the flavour of the charcoal grill and was tender and pink inside. Salad dressed with sumac and some red cabbage provided the vital vegetable element to lighten the dish up.

Service was friendly and you could tell there were many regulars, as it seemed the waiters knew a lot of the diners. it was bargainous too; for £20 we got ourselves a good spread and a beer. At last - a decent local restaurant!

Avoid going to the Rosemary Branch, on Lewisham Way for a digestif; it may be £2 a pint on Monday - Wednesdays, but you have to endure Sean Paul blasting out of the stereo, the stange smell of not-so-legal cigarette fillers lingering, and 10 year old kids being drunkenly sick in bins outside. I love South East London.

Meze Mangal

245 Lewisham Way

London SE4 1XF

Tel: 020 8694 8099

*I've edited the title to include St John's and Brockley. There seems to be some discussion over which area the restaurant is in, and rather than get into a turf war, hopefully this will resolve it. To be honest, as long as I can walk there in half an hour and the food is good, that's all that matters.