Back-from-the-pub dinner

 

It's not all cooking from scratch in this house.  Ruby Tandoh writes in her brilliant Eat Up!: "making peace with your appetite is acknowledging that it's not always pretty, and sometimes you will enter a fugue state halfway through a packet of Cadbury Fingers and eat the lot and feel ill, and that's OK.  Not every meal will be in some sunlight-dappled orange grove; sometimes what you need a pasty by the side of the M4, and there's no harm in that."  I completed agree, and what I needed last night was pizza and chips.

Not that it wasn't without some preparation.  I had booked a table to meet friends that day at a pub, my first pub visit for months and months.  We were "booked in" (so strange, these Covid times) from 3pm - 8pm.  Pints of beer were definitely going to be consumed and I anticipated that very particular beery hunger that kicks in after a couple, the slightly hazy walk home, and the fact that the first thing on my mind would be carbs a plenty but certainly not cooking.  I popped to Aldi earlier in the day and grabbed one of my old favourite frozen pizzas (back in my long commuting days, I used to keep these in the fridge for emergencies) and a bag of their really rather good chunky oven chips.  Stowing them in the fridge and congratulating myself on my forethought, I headed out for a deliciously decadent Thursday afternoon in the pub garden.  And it was great to be back sharing beer with friends, if a little chilly.

Back home later, pleasantly merry but definitely feeling that beer-induced nagging in the stomach, we happily popped our pizza and chips in the oven.  When you're a bit tipsy and tired, I'm not sure if there's anything better than some kind of combinations of cheese, bread, potatoes and fat.  Finally devouring our fine feast around 9.30pm, it was not the most complex or mindful meal of the week, but it absolutely just what our appetites called for.

Pink Pickled Eggs

My many pipedreams have included becoming a virtuoso guitar player, a painter, and founder of a horse sanctuary with a community allotment on the side.  However, one that keeps coming back is the hope that I'll concoct a crazily simple food idea that reinvents either an out of fashion, relatively unknown or forgotten food, bring it to a hip new audience, and makes me a ridiculous amount of money.  The key point is that there's some cheap or unloved ingredient out there - perhaps swede, kidneys or the parsons nose - and give it some kind restyle and then a marketing campaign to make it fashionable (parsons nose scratchings, anyone?).  As inspiration I'm thinking of whoever invented vegetable crisps, or the infamous 'Cereal Killer' cafe...give an ingredient a little twist or revamp and people suddenly see it in a new way.  A cynical get-rich-quick scheme, if you will; the kind of thing I'd normally hate but perhaps wouldn't mind if it enabled me to raise the millions I need for the horse sanctuary-allotment project.

Pickled eggs I tell you!  They're the next big thing!  Maybe.

In the days before Covid and whiling away some time in a lovely microbrewery pub in Rye, I was intrigued by a huge jar of pickled eggs behind the bar.  I know pickled eggs are much feared and automatically despised, frequently by those who haven't even tried one.  I'll be honest that up to that day it included myself; in many a pub or chip shop I've gazed intrigued at the dusty lonely jar of brown spheres in their vinegary suspended animation and thought - who eats these??  Even though I know some people swear the best thing is a pickled egg plonked on top of a just opened packet of crisps washed down with a pint I was skeptical - this isn't 1975!  You don't know how long those things have been sitting there...and a creamy egg yolk with...vinegar!??  In any case, all that changed that day in Rye, when I spied these jars and was actually tempted: apparently they had been made locally and weren't picked in the usual brown malt vinegar but swimming in an interesting concoction of red wine vinegar, garlic and herbs.  I tried one and it came halved on a plate surrounded by some of its pickled companions, garlic cloves and onion bits.  I tasted it and was converted!  There is definitely something in that contrast between the slightly rubbery pickled egg white, the soft mildness of the yolk, the spike of the vinegar.  It made an ideal bar snack and a kind of tantalising appetiser with all the little other pickled morsels to eat with it.

A couple of years later and I've made my own jar, after finding a recipe for them in a book by the Queen Of All Things Culinary, Nigella Lawson.  It's an obvious point to those in the know but the exciting thing she made me realise is that the pickled egg is can be made wonderful colours too just by adding certain things to the vinegar.  Nigella adds beetroot into the mix, to which I also added some garlic cloves and sliced onions plus some coriander seeds, bayleaf and whole peppercorns.  I am quite the fan of bright food but surely who can resist that bright yellow yolk set off by its frame of pink?  The slightly sweet red wine vinegar plus the garlic and spices also permeate the egg in a pleasant way that doesn't taste too harsh.

The other brilliant thing about adding other veg in with the eggs is that when you eat one you can have some of the little onion, garlic and beetroot bits alongside which I suppose just makes it feel like more of a little 'fancy tapas' dish than a pub snack.  And that's where my cynical get rich quick brain began kicking in... could I make pickled eggs cool, marketable?  Even my family of fairly unpicky eaters first scoffed at my version, but my Dad at least tried some and admitted it was better than he was expecting.  OK, not exactly a ringing endorsement.  The potential trouble I foresee for my incredibly simplistic and superficial business plan is that eggs are probably too expensive to qualify for my get-rich-quick-and-easy aspirations, plus how much would someone really be willing to pay for a jar of 'Designer Artisan Pickled Eggs'??  Along with the rise of veganism and the results of my admittedly tiny market research (my family), I wonder if I could manage to get people to actually eat enough pickled eggs to make my millions.  In any case, I'm now a devoted fan of the pickled egg and the next time I see that lonely jar in the chippie I'm going in for one of those original vinegary bad boys.  Maybe the fame, fortune and the horse sanctuary allotment will just have to wait until everyone else catches up with my enthusiasm.

And the beet goes on

During this weird Covid year of lockdowns combined with getting overly familiar with ones immediate local environment, I've finally become a veg box devotee, courtesy of a local initiative Florence Road Market.  Feeling all together more settled and rooted in one place than I ever have, I've found the regularity of the weekly veg box a pleasant routine (picking it up provided a mini adventure in leaving the house) as well as adding an element of unpredictability to our week's eating.  Picky eaters might not welcome the randomness of the weekly produce box, but as an ex-vegetarian who has a special place in my heart for all vegetables and fruit, I've enjoyed the weekly surprise of seeing what someone else has selected for us that week.  Or, more truthfully, it's what the seasons have selected for us at any given time.  

I won't bother wasting too many words here on what's already been said by many food campaigners and writers but it goes without saying that your greengrocer and veg market are an excellent guide on what's in season, and that eating seasonally can also lead you to much more delicious vegetable adventures.  The market makes it easy for you: you might visit the market and say "Hmmm, those tomatoes are a more expensive than they were the other month..."  That's probably because it's December.  Or, "Wow, tonnes of huge courgettes and they seem cheaper than the supermarket!"  That's probably because it's July.  Or "I never even knew there were this many varieties of potato!"  That's probably because the local supermarket throws all its buying power into one or two standard varieties, if they even mention varieties at all.  

If you go down to the market you're so much more likely to find treasures that rarely grace the average supermarket shelf: Jerusalem artichokes, a romanesco cauliflower, purple potatoes, rainbow carrots, and more marvellous flavours/varieties of British apple than you ever thought existed.  Florence Road Market is one of those markets specialising particularly in produce from small, local farms and I really do feel like I've appreciated the changing seasons like never before.  Suddenly, when local asparagus appeared last April/May and at an excellent price I bought it repeatedly for weeks (it was worth the smelly wee).  What had previously seemed like a bit of a rarity almost got boring it was so abundant for a short amount of time.  The season ended but I felt I'd had my fill, and was happy to wait another year for the really good stuff.  Besides, you don't need asparagus all year round when you have so much to bring joy to the taste buds in the season after that: fresh peas, strawberries, runner beans, courgettes, tomatoes, cherries... 

Anyway, this is a long winded introduction to a lovely recipe I found in one of my searches for amazing ways with vegetables, as well as constantly looking for ways to obsessively use up any food I buy (I'm the kind of person who scrapes the mould off forgotten condiments at the back of the fridge, shoves black bananas in the freezer for making cake later...on the rare occasion when I have to throw food away I am genuinely LIVID.).  

The Guardian's Tom Hunt specialises in recipes that prevent food waste, and his recipe for beetroot top borani is one I keep going back to, ever since I got a beautiful bunch of beetroot with all the upper leaves still attached to the root.  It is gorgeous lush green veined leaves with vivid purple-red stems and, crucially, this is BONUS FOOD.  If you buy a bunch of fresh beetroot in the supermarket it's likely the leaves will have all been trimmed off but boy, are you missing out!  Borani is an Iranian yoghurt based dip, and this recipe uses a whole bunch of chopped beetroot stems: you wilt the chopped stems in a frying pan then mix them with yoghurt, garlic, lemon and olive oil plus you can add in any spice, nuts or garnish as you feel.  The stems have a similar texture to chard, and they have a juicy, earthy taste which is so delicious against the rich, fresh taste of the garlicky, lemony yoghurt.  It's very moreish and can be served as a dip with bread, or as a side to any grilled meats or various summery dishes.  

It's also really pretty - green and purple are a gaudy match made in heaven and the saucy bits end up a fetching shade of pink.  The camera doesn't do it justice!

 

 

A tribute to frozen yogurt

Pinkberry: a bit blurred, still spectacular.

I think I've been a bit slow to discover the joys of frozen yogurt, but I thought it was time to share my love.  Recently I was taken to Pinkberry, a frozen yogurt outlet from Los Angeles which enjoys a cult following - cemented by an appearance in Curb Your Enthusiasm - that opened its first UK branch at Selfridges in London last year.  This frozen yogurt is of a particular style: usually sold 'plain' and piped out from a machine into statuesque Mr Whippy-like blobs, it is then sprinkled and coated in as many wonderful toppings as you like such as granola, Oreo cookies, Heath bars (like Dime bars), chocolate curls, brownie bits, fresh mango, strawberry...

The staff at Pinkberry seem cheerfully content to conspire with you in your quest for maximum toppings - usually they're brilliantly adept at stuffing as much as they can into the tub. And all-American, the branding transforms frozen yogurt into a little pot of joy which is passed over to you else with a happy farewell from the staff member, "Enjoy your Pinkberry!"

There is something really addictive about eating frozen yogurt like this.  It might have something to do with the perfect balance between sour and sweet, which makes it really satisfying, never sickly, to the point where you almost feel you could graze on it all day.  It's a tangy and refreshing while still being comfortingly creamy and smooth, and the mixed in little sweet soft and crunchy accompaniments contrast nicely in a winning combination of texture and flavour.

Frozen yogurt sometimes markets itself on the 'healthy' card - at Pinkberry I witnessed a small group of slim and fresh-faced youthful females pointlessly questioning staff about the calorie count - and really, I'm not sure once you've caked on the layers of chocolate and sugar toppings it can be really that virtuous.  Either way, I go to Pinkberry for a treat and I don't care if it's good for me, but it is I suppose an added bonus that the delicious gunge holding together all those honeyed nuts, jelly bears and chocolate brownie chunks is fat free and also probiotic.

Lick: on a deckchair, Brighton-style

I also remembered that I can get frozen yogurt of this kind in Brighton, at Lick - apparently the UK's first frozen yogurt outlet.  It's worth mentioning too that along with its cult following frozen yogurt has bizarrely gained a kind of chic image - the Link website features videos of intimate gigs held at the shop while photos of cheerful fresh-faced folk with their frozen yogurts clearly appeal to the Hipstamatic generation.  Pushed on by my developing Pinkberry addiction, on Friday I tried their mango frozen yogurt - as well as plain they have a new flavour each day.  It was OK, but the mango flavour was a bit too subtle for my liking, and it really wasn't the same without any crunching toppings mixed in.  So today with visitors who are also Pinkberry addicts, we took advantage of the sun and went for a full on frozen yogurt experience.

Lick is a bit cheaper than Pinkberry, but their range of toppings is more limited, and their set price limits you to 3 different toppings only - any more costs extra.  I think this is a bit of a shame - part of Pinkberry's appeal is that you can go crazy and try everything, a kind of 'eat as much as you can cram on' type joyfulness which attests to its American origins.  Today I had strawberries, honeycomb and Oreo cookies.  I'd say Lick's yogurt is less sweet than Pinkberry's, and it's probably personal taste what you prefer, but for me I think Pinkberry just has the edge.  Still, I think Lick's slightly more tangy blend of yoghurt compliments well very sweet accompaniments like the honeycomb and Oreo's I opted for, and I'd probably stick to those in the future rather than fruit.  The strawberries also were quite sour.  I realise they aren't in season, but somehow all of Pinkberry's fruit is juicy and sweet all year round - and they state in proud posters that they always use the 'freshest fruit' not pre-prepared in syrup.  God knows how they do it - I guess it's probably evilly imported from halfway round the world.  Also Lick tend to chop their fruit and other bits larger than Pinkberry, so although it looks quite spectacular, you don't quite get that lovely 'mixing in' of flavours quite so easily.  One thing I did love more than Pinkberry, was the location - obviously being about 20 minutes walk from my house is a huge advantage, but mostly the setting in the North Laine is complimented by Lick deckchairs placed outside the shop for customers.  It was lovely to sit back in the sun with a frozen yogurt in the perfect location to people watch.  And I like to support local home grown businesses, so I'll definitely be going back to get my fix (once the warm weather returns).

Weekend of Meat Part III: MEATmarket

coo coo...the pigeon's-eye view

Being that Saturday's meat adventure was a bit  of a cheat (albeit delicious, a bit of sausage on a pizza didn't really have that full-on artery-busting effect we were going for) for Sunday's sustenance we headed to MEATmarket in Covent Garden.  A sister restaurant of Meat Liquor, which is shut on Sundays, we decided to try it out as it only opened a few days before.  The restaurant is upstairs in the old-fashioned Jubilee Market in Covent Garden, and the roosting-pigeon's-eye view is good for people watching, and I gather a lot less dark and noisy than Meat Liquor's trendy nu-grunge interior.  Meat Liquor has been the subject of a lot of hype, and I read really great things about their 'Dead Hippie' burger from the excellent Burgerac, so I was excited to try this place out.  They pose themselves as a fast-food version of Meat Liquor, with a more limited menu, a wide counter a la your local kebab shop or McS**t, with stools and high tables which overlook the market.  As I said, you do get a great view over the market, but be warned that view comes at a price - the market has customary wide open entrances all day long, so things get a little chilly in the dining area.



The atmosphere was low key but funky, with illuminated signs over head and giant shelves filled with rows and rows of vividly coloured bottles of French's mustard and tomato ketchup.  On ordering, the first thing that occured to me, apart from the limited menu - I was disappointed they didn't have the renowned chili-cheese fries of Meat Liquor - was the cost.  The 'fast food' atmosphere (complete with chill) and minimalist menu - one milkshake flavour simply named 'white' and cocktails from a Slush Puppy style machine - is evidently ironic, and this 'no nonsense' style clearly doesn't apply to the prices.  The Dead Hippie on its own cost £7.50 but, feeling intrepid and swallowing my inner cheapskate, I went ahead and ordered, adding a fries and coke on the side.

Service was friendly, and fast.  We sucked our bottomless cokes (free refills - a nice authentic American touch) through straws, and a few minutes later our trays of food arrived in funky drive-thru style wrapping.  Still, even before I unwrapped it it looked disappointingly small.

  

 

The Dead Hippie is essentially a cheeseburger, featuring two beef burgers, cheese, lettuce, diced onion and 'dead hippie special sauce'.  When I unwrapped mine it sadly hadn't got any bigger, and as I pulled my scarf around me against the brisk air I again had that nagging feeling that £7.50 was quite a lot for a burger.  Taking a bite I would agree with Burgerac that there is a pleasant beefy taste to the burger, and a LOT of juice that spills out and runs off your chin when you sink your teeth in, very enjoyable.  But it's not really outstanding.  I wanted this burger to make me fall off my stool with flavours but it just didn't.  I commented to Jane it sort of tastes how I imagine a McS**t Big Mac SHOULD taste - if it looked like the pictures above the counter - but I'm not sure if this is really a compliment.  I really liked the fries, which were perfectly salted and stayed crisp (though not warm - again, the chill...) for the entire meal.  Jane ordered the MEATmarket exclusive (all the other burgers are all available at Meat Liquor), the Black Palace burger: double burger with cheese, pickles, grilled onions, ketchup and mustard.  I eyed hers with some envy, it seemed a bit bigger, but I'm not sure if this was due to the fact that it was overflowing with oodles of delicious looking grilled onions - so much so that it kind of disintegrated when she tried to eat it. 

Dead Hippie...tasty, juicy and sadly over in about 2 minutes

I'm glad I tried MEATmarket but I can't help but feel that it's a little over-rated.  I don't think I would have felt this if it was better value for money.  Its position in Jubilee Market is unique, but draughty and I felt like I was paying restaurant prices for a cafe experience and one which is (dare I say it) trading on its quirky hipster following.  In Brighton, I know from the brilliant Grubbs burgers that fast food can be good AND cheap.  I know from the rather lovely Coal Shed (a bit of a Hawksmoor imitator) that burgers can be lovingly presented, and a little more expensive.  Still, my Coal Shed burger the other week cost £9.50, included dripping-cooked chips, its one 250g steak mince beef burger equalling the combined thickness of the two burger Dead Hippie.  In the end I spent £13 at MEATmarket on what was really fast food, very nice fast food, but fast food nonetheless, dressed up with a little dash of irony and punky styling.  The cult of burger doesn't seem to be loosening its grip on London anytime soon, but as a Brighton-to-London interloper I'd say that we've got a few examples down on the South coast that could knock MEATmarket into a cocked (and if necessary, very hip) hat.



All gone...parting is such sweet sorrow. Sniff.



Weekend of Meat Part II: Franco Manca

Saturday was meant to be a burger day, but there was the suggestion of a trip to the amazing cheap-and-chic trinketmonger Tiger in Stratford that I couldn't resist.  A Danish import, Tiger is kind of like a mini-Ikea selling cute little household items you never knew you needed, and in truth probably don't really need.  The intention was to go to Meat Liquor, but when Jane mentioned there was also branch of Franco Manca at Stratford Westfield, the excitement of trying out this pizza place I'd heard so much about just about outweighed the repulsion at visiting a shopping mall on a Saturday.  Franco Manca started in Brixton market and is renowned for cheap, authentic and delicious Italian sourdough pizzas.  As my London friends are North London dwellers I've never made it there to sample their apparently delicious wares. 

Being closer to North London we found ourselves Stratford-bound.  To say that Westfield was busy is an understatement.  We knew that things were going to be intense from the moment we took the Overground from Highbury and Islington - standing room only - and then arrived at Stratford to find Olympic volunteers out in force directing crowds with giant foam pointy fingers printed with 'Olympic Park This Way'.  'Is it always like this?' we asked ourselves, 'God help us during the Olympics'.  Unbeknownst to us, there was a concert going on at the Olympic Park where approximately 75,000 people were due to attend.  Not a great day to plan a shopping/eating trip right next door.  But fortune favours the brave, and we steeled ourselves to the crowds, buoyed up by the thought of the ultimate reward in the form of flat baked bread and cheese.

After some ill-advised shopping, queuing and shuffling behind other peoples' B.O, we gave up and headed for the food area.  I really want to dislike Westfield shopping centres with their Americanised, generic shopping experience, but the shinyness (and warmth on another freezing early Spring day) is undeniably inticing.  The sheer scale of this palace of consumerism is incredible, including the area tailored to my favourite kind of consumption - the World Food Court.  At first I thought it unusual that a small, rustic and well-loved pizza kiosk (Franco Manca now have 3 branches) would be the sort of place that would fit in the potentially dull, mass produced chain store-food of the shopping mall.  But the extent of Westfield's food offerings is surprisingly impressive.  A shopping mall isn't the most atmospheric place to eat but while jostling the crowds and spying on their plates everything I saw - racks of BBQ ribs, lebanese mezze, hot dogs, Vietnamese soups, Indian street food - looked surprisingly fresh, well portioned, and good quality.

So how was Franco Manca... A little bit of queuing but brilliant, fast service once we got to the counter - the pizzas are prepared and tossed into a brick oven for a few minutes in the open kitchen behind.  One thing that's noticeable - and good - about Italian pizza is that there are frequently fewers topping combinations than we Brits are used to - often the best pizza has only two or three toppings.  In Italy, where they obviously have access to the best ingredients this results in an amazing clarity of flavour, and one of my favourite combinations is simply tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella and olive oil - resulting in a delicious juicy pizza.  The menu for Franco Manca is quite limited, and this being the Weekend of Meat I eschewed tradition and went for the £7.50 'Meat Special' which included a wide array of toppings including garlic, capers, peppers, pecorino, rocket and Gloucester Old-Spot sausage.  I actually appreciated this local British touch; the sausages may have used British rare breed pork but were prepared in a delicious Italian-style way with spices and fennel.  One thing to remember is that at Franco Manca if 'tomato' isn't listed, there's no tomato sauce on the pizza base, and while to some tastes the 'meat special' may not have needed it, I thought that a little tomato would have complimented the other flavours.  Franco Manca prides itself on its sourdough which uses a slow rising process and results in a very soft and floppy result, no crusty edges or base here, but fluffy and delicious.  I found myself folding over the pliable slices into a kind of 'wrap' which seemed like a good way to tackle it.  When I got to the edge I was glad of the drizzle of olive oil I'd opted for, though sort of wished I'd chosen chilli oil as I think it would have been nice to have a little more flavour when finishing off the bready goodness of the edge pieces... I actually would have loved a bowl of oil and balsamic vinegar.  A 175ml glass of Italian red wine on the side was a perfect accompaniment, fruity and drinkable, and priced at a very reasonable £3.45.  All in all it was worth fighting the crowds of Stratford to visit this little gem of a fast-food outlet, which still maintains a unique little taste of Italy (with a twist) amongst the rampant consumerism and corporate polish of Westfield.

Weekend of Meat Part I: Duke's Brew and Que

This weekend I went up to London to spend the weekend catching up and eating with my lovely friend Jane.  As I've been eating mostly vegetarian for the past fortnight - not for any particular reason, but having once been a vegetarian for about 9 years, I tend to eat meatless meals more often than not - we decided to have a decadent weekend of meat eating.  I really appreciate those years of being a vegetarian, as they taught me to appreciate meat as a bit of a luxury and really enjoy it when I have it.

So, pigs and cows, thank you for providing the deliciousness of our Friday culinary escapade to Duke's Brew and Que in East London.  A cosy and inviting barbeque restaurant/bar adding to the long list of funky American-style meat hangouts in London (eg. Meat Liquor, Bodeans, Pitt Cue, etc) it has a simple menu of ribs, burgers and sliders (sort of mini burgers/meaty sandwiches) with a not-so-simple (in a good way) beer list and lengthy cocktail menu.  A refreshing thing about Duke's is that they take advance bookings.  I have no idea why many of these places have a 'no reservations' policy, the cynic in my says that a hefty queue outside your establishments somehow adds to the legend, status and anticipation.  But to me it's just a massive hassle, a bit of a cheek and leads to leg and brain ache.  Or maybe they want you to get paraletic before you dine.  Jane mentioned that she waited in the queue for almost 2 hours to get into Pitt Cue, getting rapidly drunker from drinks bought at the pub across the road.  Once she got inside she and her companion had a further wait at the bar where more drinks were consumed.  Needless to say, by the time they sat down to eat the food didn't really matter any more.  Anyway, back to Duke's...

Beef ribs and a sunshine-coloured mac n' cheese

THE GOOD:
The meat was really moist but didn't quite fall off the bone quite as softly as Bodean's or Brighton's BBQ Shack.  Still the smokey aroma lingered with me long afterwards (in a good way).  We shared pork ribs and beef ribs, the pork ribs benefitting from a slightly spicy marinade and crispy fat - these probably had the edge flavour-wise for us, but the beef ribs' sheer size and juicyness was irresistably seductive.  Also the bottles of homemade BBQ sauce were excellent, particularly the sublime mustard and horseradish one which we wanted to steal.  The aforementioned cheap beer was also brilliant.  Mac n' cheese had a lovely tangy cheese flavour but for me was a tad dry.  I appreciate this is a matter of opinion though as I like mine unctuous and saucy with a crusty top, whereas Jane likes hers pretty much 'set' all through.  Each to their own!  Also, they brew their own beer at Dukes, and kudos to them for serving it by the pint.  One of my pet gripes at a lot of these new meaty diner-ish haunts is that because they often only serve imported (eg. American) beers it's frequently only sold in over-priced tiny bottles.  With a sigh of relief I found that Dukes' cheapest homebrew sets you back just over £3, and I cheerfully imbibed a pint of their amusingly named 'Neck Oil' out of an old-fashioned glass tankard.  Note to other restaurants - some of us like drink a lot but save money for extra food.  Save the glass and let us have some draft beer, hey?

THE BAD (but not that bad):
Accompanying coleslaw could have been creamier - there didn't seem to be much dressing and it almost ressembled mass-produced stuff.  Also felt that the restaurant is a little chilly and on a (granted, unseasonably) cold early May night we felt a bit of a draft at our window-side table.  The only really bad thing was the pickle on the side - not sure if these were homemade or not but it was bland, watery, more like a cucumber than a lovely crunchy sweet pickle.  This is hopefully a small touch they can improve on.

Pork ribs, disappointing pickle.

Overall I reckon I'd give it an 8/10.  Worth taking the Overground out to East London for and sampling pretty good barbecue and a brilliant beer menu.  And their unisex bathroom with communal tin tub for handwashing and its own piped-in music is also a highlight...

Come Dine With Me...

Some friends and I have committed to do a Come Dine With Me style series of dinner parties - without the sarcastic commentary and rifling through each other's knicker drawer.  The idea being that it's not that often you get the excuse to make a 3-course (or more) meal and we wanted to give 'proper entertaining' a go.  So, roughly once a month, we're going round to each other's home to, in the words of Lloyd Grossman before Masterchef's more aggressive resurrection, 'cogitate, deliberate and digest'.

I went first with an 'Italian feast', keeping true to the programme in that frequently the cooks on there try and be inspired by even the most tenuous link to a foreign heritage.  My grandad was Italian and in good Italian style, one of the main things he passed on was a love of Italian food and it's always inspirational to me.  Also we have one vegetarian in our party and rather than relegate her to a special menu of rabbit food like some Come Diners on the show (and having once been a vegetarian for about 9 years myself) I thought that for a truly enjoyable convivial meal what is is good for one should be good for us all.  And despite a love for carnivorous Italian delights like parma ham, salami or a meaty ragu, arguably what defines just as much classic Italian food is fantastic vegetables, herbs, breads and cheeses.

What I thought would be a simple menu actually turned into quite a time-consuming process, involving a couple of bread-type procedures as well as homemade pasta that not only required assembly of the dough but then a further fashioning into pretty little ravioli.  Despite preparations over 2 - 3 days I still found myself with an hour before my guests arrived, both myself and a sink full of utensils needing washing, mirroring the right-to-the-wire position of many Come Dine With Me contestants who I'd normally scoff at for their lack of preparation.  Somehow I managed to clean myself and the kitchen up and prepare the Campari and snacks before my first guest arrived promptly at 7pm...

The one good thing about going first is that I now have 3 more dinner parties to enjoy where I can just put my feet up, relax, and slag off their home decor... mwa ha ha.

Stella's Italian Feast

Campari cocktails and aperitivo: homemade tarallucci, polenta with gorgonzola and broccoli, olives and pecorino

Lemon and goats cheese ravioli

Melanzane parmagiana with green salad and homemade bread

Baked luccan fruit salad with mascarpone and amaretti

There wasn't much time for photos amongst the wine, strange Italian liqueurs, and chat, but here are a few....

Table - flowers, napkins, and even a water jug!

Tarallucci - first had these in Milan, little savoury biscuits with fennel, great with drinks!

Assembling the melanzane.... Anna Del Conte's is the best recipe EVER.

Melanzane parmigiana and polenta with broccoli and gorgonzola

Homemade sourdough bread

Lemon pasta - determined to be soggy, I managed to save it in the end....

Homemade lemon and goats cheese ravioli - after many hours faffing.

Cooking Price-Wise

Until I set eyes on this book I had no idea that legendary actor Vincent Price had also had his own cooking series during the 1970s.

In keeping perhaps with Price's horror persona, there are recipes for "Melon Monster" and "Cucumber Crocodile", and rather kitsch-sounding things like "Pineapple and Cheese loaf" and "Chicken Solange", whatever that is. But I mention this book not to make fun, but as a surprising and charming discovery about a famous actor who evidently didn't take himself too seriously and was genuinely interested in other cultures.

The blurb on the back invites the reader to "Travel round the world with Vincent Price - using your cooker instead of a jet plane". It's safe to say that Elizabeth David's mediterranean cookery discoveries of the 1950s took quite a while to trickle down to the plates and shops of Britain, but Price manages to encourage and educate readers to be more adventurous in a non-snobbish and accessible way: "You get the folks who think that foreign food is full of things that you can only get on special order from Harrods, and I must admit that the way some cookery books are written, you'd think that was so. So I was glad to accept the challenge when the producers of the series asked me to the shows. Their one condition was that all the ingredients in all the recipes must be readily available in just about any group of food shops or supermarket."

I think it's quite charming the way Price points out the limited nature of British tastes, at home and abroad. He notes that many people will eat spaghetti out of a tin but "the real thing, no matter how available it is, is quite beyond them"; he also reassures those "afraid of strange-sounding foods" that "basically the ingredients are the same, just put together in a different way." He also uses a 'Moroccan Tajine' recipe to gently poke fun at the silly prejudices of the British against international cultural practices: "The Moroccans, of course, eat their meals with their fingers...To those of you who think eating in this way is unhygienic, let me remind you that the Moroccans wash their hands very thoroughly before and after the meal, and that there are probably fewer germs on their fingers than are on the forks which come straight from a drawer, where they've been gathering dust, to the table and then to the mouth - you can imagine what sounds like to a Moroccan!"

Thursday late lunch

Having been off work for the Easter holidays, I've developed a bit of an eggs benedict habit (see last post).

I wanted to celebrate the last of my sister's hen's eggs that I had in my possession and was going to have it soft boiled with toast. Then I accidentally cracked the egg in its box so - what a shame! - poached it was. And I just 'happened' to have some leftover english muffins. No bacon/ham, but a fry-up of chorizo, tomatoes and mushrooms on the side. Crappy ceramic electric hob tried to conspire against me again (taking the saucepan off boiling once the egg's in and then finding I've put it on a burner that's been on already so it starts boiling again) but I rescued it.

The final result was, of course, sublime.

Bank holiday breakfast

Double eggs benedict! Yes! Just about managed to rescue poached eggs from overcooking due to crappy electric hob, it was touch and go.

Birthday cake for a bird lover

Delivered and half consumed at the pub with a few beers, who needs tea?

TV Dinner

Dinner in front of the telly on Saturday: Mussels with leeks, bacon and cider, thanks Hugh F-W.

Coffee and cake

Lovely recipe: http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/afternoonteacake_87184

Last weekend's indoor picnic

Definitely cream first

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/wordofmouth/poll/2010/may/20/cream-tea-scone-clotted-cream

I eat my scones the Devon way: the cream makes a perfect smooth spreading surface for the jam. If you do it the other way round then the jam all sticks to the cream and gets lifted off the scone surface and uneven.... it's also, it has to be said, more aesthetically pleasing to have a lovely red blob of jam in the middle of a cloud of cream rather than a big white blob obscuring the glistening jammy fruit.

Although having said that, it doesn't really matter so much just so long as it's clotted cream that's used!! I've had disappointing experiences in Sussex where a cream tea is served with a slightly lighter, more airy cream (is this a Sussex thing?) is used. It wasn't as sacreligious as squirty cream (OK for the tops of ice-cream sundaes and perhaps American-style pies) but any kind of light cream just doesn't have the oozing yet fairly rigid consistency that you want for a scone/cream/jam combo. The only air in a cream tea should be in the scones themselves... the topping should be a heavy indulgent delight .

I recently discovered the Fuck Yeah Condiments blog which celebrates the various bottled, canned, tubed and jarred accoutrements which can enhance and add spark on the side of a meal. I love it. All manner of freaky and wonderful sauces and potions are here, some bordering on the disturbing such as the pictured 'Marvin Mustard Spread Head'. Yikes.

But even this rather unappetising image won't temper my love affair with condiments. I'll always be the one in the cafe or pub stock-piling millions of sachets of ketchup, mayonnaise, salad cream and brown sauce to go with my burger and chips. I'll be the reason that waiter looks tired out running to and from the kitchen bearing various requested ramekins of mayonnaise, mustard, tartare or cranberry sauce.

The eternal problem with being a condiment fan is that a little goes a long way - eg. you may only need a small spoonful of a particular condiment once a week, meaning your fridge is perpetually packed with monolithic jars and tubs which just refuse to empty. This is compounded by the fact that the sheer VARIETY of condiments is pretty much endless - think of all the varieties of chutneys that are possible, and the infinite combinations, let alone moving onto relishes, jams, jellies, mustards or sauces. The other problem is that the sheer variety of condiments makes them even more tempting and addictive, leading to an often unwitting accumulation building up in your cupboards, fridges and tables.

Still, I can't stand it when you go to someone's house for dinner and there's nothing provided to enchant and enhance the meal on the side, whether it's chutney with curries, or ketchup with pies, or horseradish or garlic mayonnaise or redcurrant jelly or mint sauce (you get the idea)...with roast meat or sausages. People too often don't appreciate quite how much a condiment can help lubricate the tastebuds and tickle the senses in many combinations both classic and unique: lamb and mint, hot dogs and mustard, fish with lemon, prawns with sweet chilli sauce, goats cheese and onion marmalade, or more strange favourites of mine like horseradish with parsnips and apple sauce dollopped on cabbage. And as for those who aren't scrupulously efficient about making sure they serve gravy or sauce with any meal involving a pie, sausages or roast meat well, don't get me started...

Greed is Good

Sometimes your prayers are (kind of) answered. My friend Jane was down from London to visit and we were thinking of somewhere to eat. We felt like a buffet (my love affair with the buffet restaurant has already been well documented) but couldn't decide which one to go for as most are narrowed down to one type of cuisine. What we were hungry for was the Las Vegas-style buffet where you can eat a little bit of every type of food - from pizzas to prawns to pastries. And then suddenly we came upon this sign, pointing us in the direction of the very thing: a new buffet called 'Gekko' which has replaced the rather awful Wokmania (large oriental buffet with lots of choice but tasting very over-processed). The sign promised 'Fresh Pizzas, Pastas, Chinese, Thai, Malaysian, Sushi, Mexican, Crepes and Desserts' for the recession-friendly £6.99. However, the despondency of the guy holding the sign was perhaps a portent of our experience, which ended up being fairly average.

We were greeted by a rather cavernous, uncosy dining hall with huge counters of various vats of dishes which all looked pretty impressive. Also A LOT of fat people in there, whom we were about to join! Pretty much exactly the same as Wokmania in design, probably run by the same people just under a different name. As such, while the sheer amount looks exciting - there are areas where fresh pasta, crepes and pizzas are prepared to order as well as all the other stuff - the eating of the food was a rather more patchy experience in terms of taste sensations.

The sushi consisted of a couple of different 'california roll'-style items which were alright but a little warm. Disappointingly the Mexican selection consisted of chilli (quite nice) and items for making nachos (I like nachos but wanted enchiladas, burritos, etc!), the Chinese, Malaysian and Indian sections, despite having loads and loads of different dishes all had a suspiciously similar taste in many cases. However, chilli squid in the Chinese section was pretty good, as were some of the vegetarian dishes - the meat, especially chicken, was fairly crappy in quality and had that pumped up with water taste. My greediness meant that even though the food was pretty average, I still ate quite a lot of the bits that were quite good, and I thought I'd give the fresh pasta a go and ordered ham and cheese. Already prepared for it to taste not exactly authentic Italian, I really didn't expect it to be just as plain weird as it was. I thought it would be simply cheesy in a macaroni cheese kind of way, but having been lovingly prepared for 5-10 minutes my dish arrived looking impressive and steaming, but with a creamy sauce which when tasted was overwhelmingly and strangely sweet. Didn't try the pizzas but saw a few girls at another table excitedly ordering quite a few, so maybe they were acceptable.

Speaking of sweet, the dessert cases which looked extensive, actually contained rather strange choices of desserts that probably came from Iceland - strawberry cheesecake was nice, shame it was still frozen in the middle but the various cakes on offer kind of looked a bit like they'd just come out of a Mr Kipling box. The 'Mr Whippy'-style ice cream machine was appreciated, but could have done with some more sundae decorations like sprinkles, flakes, cherries etc!

So our excitement that Gekko provoked was somewhat disappointed by the experience of the eating. For £6.99 it was pretty good value for a lunch - the prices go up to £13.99 for dinner, although this might include even more dishes and also a grill which presumably cooks fresh steaks and other meats. Still, from the worrying quality of the meat on offer at the buffet I wouldn't say you'd be getting much that would be worth the extra. Overall I guess it was wishful thinking that when it comes to eateries you can't always have quality as well as quantity.

A tribute to the thali

During Easter I spent over two weeks in India exploring Mumbai and Goa. And of course a major part of that trip was sampling all the culinary delights that area of India has to offer. While the boiling-point temperatures and humidity normally meant that my appetite took a bit of a dent, my general love of Indian food and the sheer diversity of Indian cuisine meant that food was often on my mind! I was determined to seek out as many diverse tastes as I could, and staying with a friend meant that she could suggest options and places which otherwise the general tourist might not be aware of.

That being said, one of my favourite meals was at a particular place often mentioned in the guide books, and for good reason. Rajdhani Thali is a highly successful chain in Mumbai and South India (and a little beyond) focusing on the 'thali' meal. A thali is basically an assortment of lots of small different dishes, normally served with breads and rice. If you order a thali from a UK Indian restaurant or takeaway you normally get 3 dishes and a rice/poppadom. The items included are set and normally not that diverse, and it's normally one of the more expensive items on the menu, presumably because of the priviledge of having all the different stuff.

But a thali in India is different! Presented on a large steel tray, it is a colourful formation of usually more than 5 small steel bowls filled with various dishes, with rice and/or bread and chutneys served on the tray itself. And a thali at Rajdhani is even more amazing. Cheap, delicious and all vegetarian but I'll wager it would convert any committed carnivore. You arrive to a table set up with the requisite metal tray and 10 empty (for now...) small bowls on a large steel tray. Men stride up and down between the tables holding serving bowls (larger versions of the ones you see often with relishes or dips, a handle down the middle with multiple bowls attached around it), who instantly fill your bowls with a flourish. And suddenly you have 9-10 mouthwatering things to dip your bread into - sorry, breadS into - they give you three or four different types. And did I also mention it's 'bottomless'? Meaning that the waiters will keep refilling your little bowls until you tell them to stop. You also have a man that comes up with a jug and bowl before and after the meal so you can wash your hands. And how much is the whole experience? 299 rupees per person, under £5!

So....what was on the plate. Not an exhaustive list but here goes. Snacks and accompaniments were potato bhajis, sweet and sour tamarind chutney, green (coriander and mint) chutney, coconut chutney, chopped cucumber and onion salad and dhokla, a steamed white airy square made of gram flour (texture almost like a cake or fluffy American pancake - very absorbent for dipping!). Breads were wedges of lovely floppy chappatis and an unusual hard, almost-pastry like bread shaped with ridges. There was rice and also khichdi which is a yellow mound of stodgy creamy rice and dal (lentils) cooked together topped with ghee. Things to dip in or scoop up was a mixture of sweet and savoury dishes - this is a restaurant favoured by Gujuratis who apparently have a very sweet tooth and love combinations of sweet and savoury flavours in their food. So the small dishes were filled with: spicy dals; potato curry; a strange tangy sour-sweet dish called mango kadhi made with yoghurt or buttermilk, mango and spices; chickpea and black eyed beans curry; paneer and peas (one of my faves, very rich and buttery!); dry fried okra; bhindi (aubergines) masala. For dessert malpuas (small round deep fried flour discs soaked in sugar syrup) for dipping into aam ras (mango pulp) and my newly discovered favourite 'shrikhand' - yoghurt that has been strained and flavoured with sugar and cardomom. A sweet-sour flavour and texture sort of akin to lemon curd (without the lemon, and more creamy), it's totally moreish and refreshing.

Bearing in mind the heat and humidity outside, and the fact that we were next due to wander around some street markets, my friend and I thought it prudent to not totally eat ourselves into too much of a stupor. However, I think I amused the staff by my repeated requests for more shrikhand, and also managed a good few bowls of other favourite things. I left wishing I could eat it all again, and feeling that I'd experienced something really special despite the fact that in the context of Mumbai Rajdhani isn't really a fancy restaurant. It's an everyday sort of place that is deservedly well attended by people simply looking for a reasonably priced, interesting and pretty wholesome meal. They even offer to deliver set meal boxes to your home: though of course sadly this doesn't include the tantalising bottomless aspect, which from my greedy perspective was the icing on the cake of this delightful eating adventure.

If you can't sleep, make cookies

The other weekend I woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep. So I thought making cookies would be a profitable use of that extra time. As a massive peanut butter fan, I made peanut butter cookies from the Magnolia Bakery cookbook.

The mixture is a gorgeous, shiny sweet gloopy mess. I was so distracted by it that it wasn't until I'd dolloped out my first batch that I realised I'd forgotten to add the Reece's Pieces which I was adding instead of the stated 'peanut butter chips' (just because I randomly had the Reece's Pieces in my cupboard and have no idea what peanut butter chips are anyway). So I just stuck them into the top and then threw the rest into the remaining mixture.


















It worked really well, the cookies get more firm as they cool and are a slightly chewy texture, which turns to satisfying slightly sticky peanut-butterness in your mouth as you chew. Highly moreish and perfect with a cup of tea to wash them down, from preparation to eating took about 20 mins and they made a yummy breakfast!