Great Queen Street
A trip up to The Big Smoke always guarantees several things:
• A severe dent to the wallet
• Slight culture shock
• The recollection of quite how much you always used to hate the tube
• Smile deficit – not enough people looking happy for my liking/requirement
• BUT – on the positive side – you always know you’ll have a packed repertoire of new and interesting eats to get noshing.
Which is good when you write a food blog. These days my restaurant visits are so few and far between that there’s minimal blog material to be getting on with. So as soon as I get the opportunity to flex my jaw muscles and get chewing, I seize it!
At the moment I’m helping with the research and writing for a friend’s next book so, as is our customary way, we ended the day in a nice restaurant. Not a bad end to the working day!
Whilst normally we work our way through the various decent Italian restaurants in London, this time we went ye olde englishe-style, and hit up Great Queen Street, the sister restaurant to gastropub Anchor & Hope I talked about back in November. And it did its little sister proud, with not only scrumptious dishes, but also brilliant service, and an unexpected little dish hiccup, which led to much hilarity between myself and our waiter.
So what did I tuck into, I hear you cry! Well:
Cod’s Roe Salad with carrots, beetroot and watercress – thin slivers of pungent smokey fish roe, bright orange against an attractive array of violet beetroot chunks, sweet and earthy, candy-sweet baby carrots, and piquant watercress, all bound together with a light horseradish sauce. The perfect combination of salt, sea, sweet, earth and nostril-flaring tang of the horseradish tantalizing and teasing your tastebuds. An ‘on-your-toes’ dish if ever there was one. Not least because, and this is probably not such a good thing, but give the ensuing mirth I just had to mention it – there was, shall we say, an extra added ingredient. I couldn’t quite place it, or mark back to the list of ingredients in the menu, so I called over our (very brash, cheeky Australian) waiter, who was my new gay best friend, and asked him. There’s a first time for everything – I’d never fed a waiter off my dish, he ate the mystery object, couldn’t place it either, muttered ‘do you mind?’ and WHIPPED it off my plate, for a scientific dissection session back in the kitchen. Turned out a rogue mushroom had found its way onto my plate. Not to worry – free entertainment!
Arboath Smoked Haddock with mashed swede and buttered cabbage – an understated diva, this Haddock rather stole the show. Buttery and smokey, and scattered lightly with chives, it sang alongside the support acts - a mellow mashed swede and a heaped spoonful of buttered cabbage. Anyone traumatized by school memories of the veg would soon be guaranteed converts.
So, all in all, a splendiferous show, and worth a return visit.
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Cor Blimey Charlie!!
Who would have thought that a little piece of France would be lying hidden deep in Clapham. More specifically, at my dear, lovely friend Charlie's house.
Now wait, let me backtrack. Charlie is, to put it simply, a culinary genius (I know, I cultivate my friends well). The boy is wasted in a Managmenet Consultancy firm, where he does all sorts of clever, whizkid stuff wtih spreadsheets and sorting out ailing firms. Thankfully for his friends, though, he unleashes his real talent and passion in the kitchen at the weekends where, with an apron wound round his gentle giant frame (he is a 6'3" giant who dwarves us all), he regularly works his magic on a series of Sunday lunches. Poor lad, not sure if his motley crew of no good amigos aren't rather a wasted audience for his talents. I, however, am fully appreciative.
The Sunday in question is now a couple of weeks back, and I write having had the chance to digest my extremely generous and quite truly delicious portion of...oh, no, one sec, don't let me spoil the suspense, I'll get to the food later.
So, there I was, on one of my many Sunday mornings up in the big smoke, recovering from a monumental night out, during which I had somehow managed to lose my mobile phone in the bowels of my friend Looble's teeny tiny car (a whole nother story, but suffice to say her car has now been dubbed the Bermuda triangle of phones). This rather clever move was somewhat hampering my usually buzzing social life, and I was slightly perplexed as to how on earth I was going to dredge up memories of where exactly in Clapham Charlie's flat was hidden. I was a little panic-stricken at the thought of missing lunch, if I'm entirely honest with you. One of my trusty friends came to the rescue with his fancy iphone, and on ringing Charlie I learned that I needn't have worried, the original (already alarmingly late to my clockwork tum) lunchtime of 3pm had now been pushed back a little. Apparently I wasn't the only one suffering from post-Saturday night pains...
...so it meant I could rock up at a more leisurely pace. I rang on the bell at 3.30pm, and was greeted by the warm, comforting waft of cheesy pastry, some little home-made rolls that the Chef had whipped up out of some pastry leftovers ('posh cheese on toast').
Appetite well and truly whetted, I settled in to catch up with a university friend, delighting in the pleasure of mouthwatering anticipation. Thankfully the real event was every bit as good as the (lengthy) anticipation (Charlie really knows how to drum up a feeding frenzy amongst even the most food ambivalent of guests - a category in which, you'll no doubt not need informing, I am not found), when at 4.30pm our tummies rumbled, the table was laid and the metaphorical drum rolled. Delicately, and with loving care, our Chef served:
Now wait, let me backtrack. Charlie is, to put it simply, a culinary genius (I know, I cultivate my friends well). The boy is wasted in a Managmenet Consultancy firm, where he does all sorts of clever, whizkid stuff wtih spreadsheets and sorting out ailing firms. Thankfully for his friends, though, he unleashes his real talent and passion in the kitchen at the weekends where, with an apron wound round his gentle giant frame (he is a 6'3" giant who dwarves us all), he regularly works his magic on a series of Sunday lunches. Poor lad, not sure if his motley crew of no good amigos aren't rather a wasted audience for his talents. I, however, am fully appreciative.
The Sunday in question is now a couple of weeks back, and I write having had the chance to digest my extremely generous and quite truly delicious portion of...oh, no, one sec, don't let me spoil the suspense, I'll get to the food later.
So, there I was, on one of my many Sunday mornings up in the big smoke, recovering from a monumental night out, during which I had somehow managed to lose my mobile phone in the bowels of my friend Looble's teeny tiny car (a whole nother story, but suffice to say her car has now been dubbed the Bermuda triangle of phones). This rather clever move was somewhat hampering my usually buzzing social life, and I was slightly perplexed as to how on earth I was going to dredge up memories of where exactly in Clapham Charlie's flat was hidden. I was a little panic-stricken at the thought of missing lunch, if I'm entirely honest with you. One of my trusty friends came to the rescue with his fancy iphone, and on ringing Charlie I learned that I needn't have worried, the original (already alarmingly late to my clockwork tum) lunchtime of 3pm had now been pushed back a little. Apparently I wasn't the only one suffering from post-Saturday night pains...
...so it meant I could rock up at a more leisurely pace. I rang on the bell at 3.30pm, and was greeted by the warm, comforting waft of cheesy pastry, some little home-made rolls that the Chef had whipped up out of some pastry leftovers ('posh cheese on toast').
Appetite well and truly whetted, I settled in to catch up with a university friend, delighting in the pleasure of mouthwatering anticipation. Thankfully the real event was every bit as good as the (lengthy) anticipation (Charlie really knows how to drum up a feeding frenzy amongst even the most food ambivalent of guests - a category in which, you'll no doubt not need informing, I am not found), when at 4.30pm our tummies rumbled, the table was laid and the metaphorical drum rolled. Delicately, and with loving care, our Chef served:
- Cassoulet - look, I know I may have slightly lost credibility, what with my neverending and continuous tendency to wax lyrical about the different food I'm lucky enough to sink my gnashers into (the nasty critic in me does sometimes make an appearance), but let me tell you, I'm not exaggerating when I say - I have never tasetd such a succulent medley of different meats. I carefully picked out, identified and verified with our maestro chef a full array of meats, including tiny, juicy sausages, rich, dark confit duck leg, nuggets of lambshoulder, pork rind and chunks of pork belly. Each medley was doused in a savoury meat sauce, with a couple of spoonfuls from the layer of juice-soaked breadcrumbs topping the whopping great Le Creuset casserole dish. The punch of the meat was tempered and mellowed slightly by the melting creaminess of small, white, haricot beans. Simply outstanding, especially when served with...
- ...a young, spicy Watercress Salad dressed with a sharp, mustardy french dressing - the perfect punchy, simple sidekick to the rich cassoulet.
- Treacley and golden, a darkly rich genuine Tarte Tatin, with large chunks of moist upturned apple over flakey, sticky pastry, soaked iwth its fingerlicking sticky juice. Brings a whole different meaning to this particular apple pastry, which can often be muscled in on by an awful imposter (think thin, insipid, crunchy 'apple' slices, and dry crusty pastry). Not so with this rendition, which did its name proud, perfectly served alongside a dollop of decadent clotted cream.
One lesson learned by our talented host, will no doubt have been 'never text one's guests with requests to bring 'interesting cheeses' when one's guests consist of a handful of cheeky comedians and acerbic actors'. Our 'Interesting Cheese' selection consisted of one mesh bag of mini wax-clad BabyBels...which was, obviously, the perfect end to the perfect meal.
Thanks Charlieboy. xx
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Raving Restaurant Review: my favourite London Curryhouse
It’s been absolutely donkey’s months since I’ve done any sort of restaurant reviewing as thrift and frugality has been the overriding theme.
So, in an unusual ‘throwing thrift to the wind’ gesture, when I arrived in London last Sunday night, I decided it was about time I ate out. And so I did. Two days in a row no less.
Numero Uno: 5* - HIGH recommendation
Now, before I get more entangled in my little tale, let me set the background on my relationship with Indian meals.
I am not a natural curry fan.
It’s the result of too many years of disgusting, cheap and terrible Indian meals whilst at uni, meals which tended to consist of £10 deals (1 curry, 1 beer, 1 case of chronic indigestion and a serious dose of self-loathing), during which us uni students tended to behave atrociously (naturally), get drunk, disorderly and ending the evening with the odd food fight.
Now, before I hear your sharp intake of breath that I could be so uncouth, let me make it clear right away, I wasn’t one of the ones throwing food – clearly to me that is the ultimate sin. But seeing curry splattered against the walls wasn’t terribly conducive to giving me a raging appetite for the spicy stuff.
This, coupled with making the mistake once of watching a TV programme entitled ‘The Top 10 Worst Restaurants in Britain’ (I know, don’t ask what possessed me), and witnessing what sort of tricks the Indian restaurant topping the list pulled on its unsuspecting punters (great big vats of ‘different’ curry sauces, into which washed off uneaten meat from previous customers’ dishes were unceremoniously dunked). It was toecurling, stomach-wrenching stuff. And as a direct result about three years ago I was pretty much refusing to touch curry.
Cue my job out in Dubai, which couldn't have come at a more perfect time, to reinstate me with an appreciation for good indian food. No comparison. There you'll eat mostly southern indian food, a heavy slant towards the vegetarian. Clouds of delicately spiced potato mixture in potato dosa, mental lentils. Curry and I slowly rekindled a tentative love affair.
So you see, I’m possibly one of the most discerning British curry critics there is available to write. I am extraordinarily difficult to please. You might have noticed that this goes against my usual bounce-off-the-walls excitement and enthusiasm at eating out/being taken out, but there it is – I am curry critical.
So, it is with great pleasure, that I announce…. ..drummmm rooooollll….. THE BEST curryhouse in London, bar none. Tayyabs, in London's East End, or Shoreditch, to be more precise. Widely tipped as exceptional, I’d first been invited by one of my bestest buds (Sam the Tea man, should you be interested) for his bday bash back in November. I couldn’t make it. At the time, apart from the fact I was missing the festivities and the chance to smother a best bud with birthday smooches, I wasn’t too too bothered about missing out on ‘yet another curry’.
Until, that is, all sorts of raving rants written about the merits of this mysterious Tayyabs starting creeping into my line of awareness, and I started to rather kick myself for the missed opportunity. London-town bound, therefore, I got StTM in on my plan for a Sunday curry sesh. By gum was I excited.
The very first thing you notice as you walk alongside the restaurant, tucked deep in the bowels of Shoreditch, is that it is veritably heaving with people. In spite of it being a Sunday evening, the tables were overflowing with happy customers, all noshing away. The door opens and the second thing you’ll notice is a delicious medley of scents of cumin, curry, tamarind and other spices I couldn't quite put my olfactory finger on. The queue to eat was snaking right round the restaurant. Hm. This boded mouthwateringly well. We entertained ourselves admirably until, not long after – oh joy! – we were allocated our table. By this stage I was in such a paroxysm of hunger and excitement that I clean forgot how one is supposed to behave in a restaurant. Our poor, patient waiter had to deal with an overexcited, gibbering fool making orders (me, should that not be clear). As it turns out though, my choices were outstanding:
Go. Go, go, go! You won't regret it.
So, in an unusual ‘throwing thrift to the wind’ gesture, when I arrived in London last Sunday night, I decided it was about time I ate out. And so I did. Two days in a row no less.
Numero Uno: 5* - HIGH recommendation
Now, before I get more entangled in my little tale, let me set the background on my relationship with Indian meals.
I am not a natural curry fan.
It’s the result of too many years of disgusting, cheap and terrible Indian meals whilst at uni, meals which tended to consist of £10 deals (1 curry, 1 beer, 1 case of chronic indigestion and a serious dose of self-loathing), during which us uni students tended to behave atrociously (naturally), get drunk, disorderly and ending the evening with the odd food fight.
Now, before I hear your sharp intake of breath that I could be so uncouth, let me make it clear right away, I wasn’t one of the ones throwing food – clearly to me that is the ultimate sin. But seeing curry splattered against the walls wasn’t terribly conducive to giving me a raging appetite for the spicy stuff.
This, coupled with making the mistake once of watching a TV programme entitled ‘The Top 10 Worst Restaurants in Britain’ (I know, don’t ask what possessed me), and witnessing what sort of tricks the Indian restaurant topping the list pulled on its unsuspecting punters (great big vats of ‘different’ curry sauces, into which washed off uneaten meat from previous customers’ dishes were unceremoniously dunked). It was toecurling, stomach-wrenching stuff. And as a direct result about three years ago I was pretty much refusing to touch curry.
Cue my job out in Dubai, which couldn't have come at a more perfect time, to reinstate me with an appreciation for good indian food. No comparison. There you'll eat mostly southern indian food, a heavy slant towards the vegetarian. Clouds of delicately spiced potato mixture in potato dosa, mental lentils. Curry and I slowly rekindled a tentative love affair.
So you see, I’m possibly one of the most discerning British curry critics there is available to write. I am extraordinarily difficult to please. You might have noticed that this goes against my usual bounce-off-the-walls excitement and enthusiasm at eating out/being taken out, but there it is – I am curry critical.
So, it is with great pleasure, that I announce…. ..drummmm rooooollll….. THE BEST curryhouse in London, bar none. Tayyabs, in London's East End, or Shoreditch, to be more precise. Widely tipped as exceptional, I’d first been invited by one of my bestest buds (Sam the Tea man, should you be interested) for his bday bash back in November. I couldn’t make it. At the time, apart from the fact I was missing the festivities and the chance to smother a best bud with birthday smooches, I wasn’t too too bothered about missing out on ‘yet another curry’.
Until, that is, all sorts of raving rants written about the merits of this mysterious Tayyabs starting creeping into my line of awareness, and I started to rather kick myself for the missed opportunity. London-town bound, therefore, I got StTM in on my plan for a Sunday curry sesh. By gum was I excited.
The very first thing you notice as you walk alongside the restaurant, tucked deep in the bowels of Shoreditch, is that it is veritably heaving with people. In spite of it being a Sunday evening, the tables were overflowing with happy customers, all noshing away. The door opens and the second thing you’ll notice is a delicious medley of scents of cumin, curry, tamarind and other spices I couldn't quite put my olfactory finger on. The queue to eat was snaking right round the restaurant. Hm. This boded mouthwateringly well. We entertained ourselves admirably until, not long after – oh joy! – we were allocated our table. By this stage I was in such a paroxysm of hunger and excitement that I clean forgot how one is supposed to behave in a restaurant. Our poor, patient waiter had to deal with an overexcited, gibbering fool making orders (me, should that not be clear). As it turns out though, my choices were outstanding:
- Spicy grilled lamb chops – miniature mouthfuls of succulent, juicy meat, dripping with a biting, spicy sauce. An excellent appetite whetter. Although, frankly speaking, it would be a restrained restaurant-goer whose appetite wasn’t already whetted by the sights and smells of dishes gliding past.
- Lamb & Lentil curry – what was so brilliant about this, in comparison to most curries I’ve eaten before, is that the lamb was in modest, bite-sized pieces, rather than great big walloping hunks (most offputting). Tender meat surrounded by more-ish, comforting daal (lentils), with a gentle kick to it which nudges you out of getting dangerously comfortable. A real spirit-lifter of a dish.
- Aubergine & Lentil – you’d expect this just to be a variation on the above, substituting the lamb out for the aubergine, but let me assure you that this wasn’t at all the case. Still with the same ‘gwon-gizza-hug’ element of lentils, threaded through with melting strips of garlicky aubergine. Aubergine, when slowly cooked, has a remarkable ability to absorb smoky flavours which surround it. This dish packed a serious garlic punch, yet another mechanism which made each diner reach back again and again for ‘just another spoonful’ (I was mortified when, at the end of the meal, I realized that for quite some minutes our waiter had been patiently waiting to remove our dishes, only waiting the vulture to finish her scavaging. Ahem.)
- Saag Aloo – soft, delicate green spinach, tender, garlic infused potatoes. Together. Seriously, what more could you want from a dish? This particular dish has the potential to become heavy and leaden. Tayyabs’ rendition was light as a feather, and not too filling.
Go. Go, go, go! You won't regret it.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
A Birthday rhyme to an old friend
The day dawned early and bright, December third,
this year's passed so quickly it seems quite absurd,
But beautiful winter sunshine through my window streamed bright,
so I threw open the curtains and saw with delight,
that the entire garden was completely embossed,
with a delicious icy coating of frost.
Bundling up, warm clothes v. biting cold,
I grabbed a camera in the hopes of photo gold.
I wanted to capture this magical, glittering morning.
but my photography should come with a small prewarning...
as, whilst my dear birthday friend has many a skill,
at capturing those photolicious moments that thrill,
my ability to close the shutter on the perfect shot,
is, I won't lie to you, not quite as hot.
Nevertheless, without further ado, and in my own little way,
I'll show you the magic moments of this beautiful day.
The icy sheen of directions. Beautiful markings to inspire me on my mini mission.
Frosted Treetrunks
The trees scraped their shadowy fingers across the fields, as I crossed a bridge into the magical forest.
This picture, and this place, causes me to take a nosedive straight back to my childhood in the states, and reading the terribly sad story Bridge to Terabithia. I got slightly lost in my imagination and had to pinch myself to resurface.
Marvellous mossy mystery.
Nature fallen.
Nature, dangling.
Wellie shot - just discovering my camera.
Pathway reminding me of Peter Rabbit - acrid smell of creosote from nearby garden allotments mixed with tinny waft of fir trees. 
A virtual present - a cup of tea and some homemade cookies - chunky choc chip cookies, with their unseemly generous chunks of half melted chocolate. All that is missing is my birthday friend giggling with me as we lick the melted chocolate and buttery crumbs off our fingers, before reaching for another refill of tea and settling in for a good long girly chat.Happy Birthday! xxx
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Oldies are Goodies
One of the very happy side effects of living in a gurt big house in the country, and away from the hustle and bustle of London and constant social shenanigans that I would normally be furiously embroiled in, is that I'm really learning the value of spending real quality time with loved ones: friends and family.
So yesterday I was very excited when one of my bestest girlfriends came down to visit, the first time we've seen each other in the eight months or so since I went abroad. I had said we had so much to catch up on we should invest in one of those chess game timers - ok, 10 minutes to you, 10 minutes to me, 10 you, 10 me...thankfully we didn't have to resort to anything quite so regimented and I think we still pretty much covered all the bases, whilst at the same time cooking and eating a really very delicious, comforting winter supper to fill our tums as we talked.
Unsurprisingly, I'm the sort who finds it hard to concentrate on even two things at once - so listening, talking AND cooking meant that proceedings went veeeery leisurely, but that was fine, we had all the time in the world!
To curb our appetites, I quickly whipped us up some of the Carrot and Ginger soup, a rerun my last entry. It was just too good not to share!
A while later, we followed this up with Roast Butternut Squash and Bacon linguine with crumbled deep fried Sage, then a Blackberry tarlet for puds.
The Butternut Squash and Bacon linguine was really a bit of an experiment using some of my favourite ingredient combinations - I often use Butternut Squash in risotto, but I'd never actually cooked it with pasta. I figured really, what can go wrong with all of those goodies included?! My hunch was right and we both agreed it got top marks:
Butternut Squash & Bacon Linguine with crumbled deep fried Sage
Serves 2
Ingredients
a quarter of a butternut squash, peeled, deseeded and diced relatively small; 3-4 rashers bacon or pancetta, diced; 1 clove garlic, chopped; 8-9 sage leaves; 1/4 pint single cream; olive oil; linguine for 2
Method
Lay foil over a roasting tray and spread the butternut squash over, drizzle with olive oil and season generously, then roast at 240C for 30 minutes until soft with a little bite.
Start cooking the Linguine.
Lay the bacon in a frying pan and fry fast until slightly crispy. Remove the bacon from the pan and lay on kitchen paper to drain the fat, then quickly fry up the sage in the remaining bacon fat, removing to drain next to the bacon once done. My bacon produced enough fat for the whole dish but if yours doesn't, at this stage add a little olive oil and add the garlic until it sizzles and starts to go golden, then the bacon, and finally the butternut squash. Season, stir and cook through for a few minutes, and then add the cream, heat through for a minute or two.
Drain the linguine, retaining a tiny amount of water so the pasta doesn't dry, and toss together with the butternut squash mixture. Serve onto plates and crumble over the deep fried sage.
Thinking about it, by the time we served up, I was so eager to eat that I clean forgot parmesan, which of course would top off a truly delicious dish perfectly.
Blackberry Tarlets
Serves 2
I cheated and used preprepared, ready-to-cook tartlet cases (sorry, was BUSY during the day, can't cook everything from scratch!), but they were spectacular, so I would highly recommend cheating any day!
For the custard, beat 1 egg and add in a quarter pint of single cream, then beat in caster sugar. I've not quite figured out the right amount of caster sugar to add...I guesstimate maybe 5-6 tablespoons? Arrange the tartlet cases on a baking tray, and pour the custard in. Arrange the blackberries in the cases, and cook on about 180C for 15-20 minutes, until the pastry is cooked and the custard golden. Sift some icing sugar over the top if you want it really fancy. Me n mi amiga just gobbled ours down...hot! hot! hot!
Then the two greedy little piggies sat down with a cuppa chai and some of my special banana bread which I cooked that morning, the secret of which I will reveal when the time is right...
What else are best friends for than to help demolish the banana bread that you would otherwise be forced to eat entirely by yourself?!
Bliss.
So yesterday I was very excited when one of my bestest girlfriends came down to visit, the first time we've seen each other in the eight months or so since I went abroad. I had said we had so much to catch up on we should invest in one of those chess game timers - ok, 10 minutes to you, 10 minutes to me, 10 you, 10 me...thankfully we didn't have to resort to anything quite so regimented and I think we still pretty much covered all the bases, whilst at the same time cooking and eating a really very delicious, comforting winter supper to fill our tums as we talked.
Unsurprisingly, I'm the sort who finds it hard to concentrate on even two things at once - so listening, talking AND cooking meant that proceedings went veeeery leisurely, but that was fine, we had all the time in the world!
To curb our appetites, I quickly whipped us up some of the Carrot and Ginger soup, a rerun my last entry. It was just too good not to share!
A while later, we followed this up with Roast Butternut Squash and Bacon linguine with crumbled deep fried Sage, then a Blackberry tarlet for puds.
The Butternut Squash and Bacon linguine was really a bit of an experiment using some of my favourite ingredient combinations - I often use Butternut Squash in risotto, but I'd never actually cooked it with pasta. I figured really, what can go wrong with all of those goodies included?! My hunch was right and we both agreed it got top marks:
Butternut Squash & Bacon Linguine with crumbled deep fried Sage
Serves 2
Ingredients
a quarter of a butternut squash, peeled, deseeded and diced relatively small; 3-4 rashers bacon or pancetta, diced; 1 clove garlic, chopped; 8-9 sage leaves; 1/4 pint single cream; olive oil; linguine for 2
Method
Lay foil over a roasting tray and spread the butternut squash over, drizzle with olive oil and season generously, then roast at 240C for 30 minutes until soft with a little bite.
Start cooking the Linguine.
Lay the bacon in a frying pan and fry fast until slightly crispy. Remove the bacon from the pan and lay on kitchen paper to drain the fat, then quickly fry up the sage in the remaining bacon fat, removing to drain next to the bacon once done. My bacon produced enough fat for the whole dish but if yours doesn't, at this stage add a little olive oil and add the garlic until it sizzles and starts to go golden, then the bacon, and finally the butternut squash. Season, stir and cook through for a few minutes, and then add the cream, heat through for a minute or two.
Drain the linguine, retaining a tiny amount of water so the pasta doesn't dry, and toss together with the butternut squash mixture. Serve onto plates and crumble over the deep fried sage.
Thinking about it, by the time we served up, I was so eager to eat that I clean forgot parmesan, which of course would top off a truly delicious dish perfectly.
Blackberry Tarlets
Serves 2
I cheated and used preprepared, ready-to-cook tartlet cases (sorry, was BUSY during the day, can't cook everything from scratch!), but they were spectacular, so I would highly recommend cheating any day!
For the custard, beat 1 egg and add in a quarter pint of single cream, then beat in caster sugar. I've not quite figured out the right amount of caster sugar to add...I guesstimate maybe 5-6 tablespoons? Arrange the tartlet cases on a baking tray, and pour the custard in. Arrange the blackberries in the cases, and cook on about 180C for 15-20 minutes, until the pastry is cooked and the custard golden. Sift some icing sugar over the top if you want it really fancy. Me n mi amiga just gobbled ours down...hot! hot! hot!
Then the two greedy little piggies sat down with a cuppa chai and some of my special banana bread which I cooked that morning, the secret of which I will reveal when the time is right...
What else are best friends for than to help demolish the banana bread that you would otherwise be forced to eat entirely by yourself?!
Bliss.
Friday, October 17, 2008
London a la Lex: Part III
Saturday night continued…
For effect, I would normally say that we rolled out of the restaurant groaning and rubbing our bellies, but I would be lying…the main beautiful thing about eating high quality food and savouring it, is that I find you eat slower, you digest better, and all in all you don’t have that awful feeling of ‘being stuffed’ post nosh. So we could continue our night tout suite!
The poor lad was thus dragged across London to Notting Hill and a ‘good old British pub’, to meet two of my best girlfriends, and be subjected to a torrent of girly gossip and giggles. Sorry Chef. The pub though was perfect, with Alice in Wonderland tiny doorways, allowing him the chance of experiencing British ale. When wondering aloud why the ale was so warm he was informed by the Catholic priest (!?) sitting near us that it was ‘cellar temperature’ so that you could better get the flavour of the beer. I think the American was unconvinced, in spite of the fact that the news came on religious authority.
All in all, a thoroughly British day out.
Sunday
What better way to spend a Sunday than to lounge in fuggy warmth for an entire afternoon with friends, being fed dish after dish of wonderful food. The ideal excuse as well, to showcase yet another brilliantly British brainwave: The Gastropub.
Or, to be more specific the Anchor & Hope in Waterloo. The spawn of our previous night’s feasting, St John, in a flash of wisdom I pre-booked our Sunday lunch, as it is apparently the only day possible to book at A&H, which otherwise experiences hours and hours of queues. We arrived at 12.30, already hungry from a brisk walk along the Thames, and our appetite was curbed with some delightful little crispy tantalisers, anchovy paste, pate and some fresh herb concoction. Nevertheless, by the time the rest of my amigos had arrived and lunch finally commenced at gone 2pm, it is fairly safe to say the group was like a group of thin, mangy lions waiting wild-eyed to pounce on the next passerby.
Thankfully we didn’t need to resort to pack hunting, as our waitress finally approached our table bearing the first of the day’s spoils. We ate our way through a simple yet savoury menu, frolicking joyfully from one dish to the next:
This time we really did roll out of the pub, like six tottering bowling pins, very late afternoon, for a much needed post-lunch walk along the South Bank to watch the sun set. London at its best.
For effect, I would normally say that we rolled out of the restaurant groaning and rubbing our bellies, but I would be lying…the main beautiful thing about eating high quality food and savouring it, is that I find you eat slower, you digest better, and all in all you don’t have that awful feeling of ‘being stuffed’ post nosh. So we could continue our night tout suite!
The poor lad was thus dragged across London to Notting Hill and a ‘good old British pub’, to meet two of my best girlfriends, and be subjected to a torrent of girly gossip and giggles. Sorry Chef. The pub though was perfect, with Alice in Wonderland tiny doorways, allowing him the chance of experiencing British ale. When wondering aloud why the ale was so warm he was informed by the Catholic priest (!?) sitting near us that it was ‘cellar temperature’ so that you could better get the flavour of the beer. I think the American was unconvinced, in spite of the fact that the news came on religious authority.
All in all, a thoroughly British day out.
Sunday
What better way to spend a Sunday than to lounge in fuggy warmth for an entire afternoon with friends, being fed dish after dish of wonderful food. The ideal excuse as well, to showcase yet another brilliantly British brainwave: The Gastropub.
Or, to be more specific the Anchor & Hope in Waterloo. The spawn of our previous night’s feasting, St John, in a flash of wisdom I pre-booked our Sunday lunch, as it is apparently the only day possible to book at A&H, which otherwise experiences hours and hours of queues. We arrived at 12.30, already hungry from a brisk walk along the Thames, and our appetite was curbed with some delightful little crispy tantalisers, anchovy paste, pate and some fresh herb concoction. Nevertheless, by the time the rest of my amigos had arrived and lunch finally commenced at gone 2pm, it is fairly safe to say the group was like a group of thin, mangy lions waiting wild-eyed to pounce on the next passerby.
Thankfully we didn’t need to resort to pack hunting, as our waitress finally approached our table bearing the first of the day’s spoils. We ate our way through a simple yet savoury menu, frolicking joyfully from one dish to the next:
- Mussels, Cod and Saffron soup – I’m terribly fussy about my soups, as we’re all well aware, but this one, this one passed the stringent interview tests. I could almost hear the soup breathe a sigh of relief as I voiced my approval, and proceeded to revel in its rich flavours. It was creamy, thick and just filling enough to withstand the (leisurely) wait between soup and main, chunky pieces of cod and a generous dose of mussels cavorted playfully together.
- Braised Ox Cheek with buttered new potatoes and fresh horseradish – one of those occasions when I didn’t quite know what to expect from what I read on the menu, but I managed to glean some clues from our neighbouring tables. It all looked very promising indeed. All hands went eagerly and immediately on deck to clear our table and make way for the descent of an entire dark grey Le Creuset casserole. One of our table (probably, me if I'm completely honest) couldn’t bear the suspense, and grabbed the lid to open it with a flourish. All that was lacking was a drum roll and an applause, as a fragrant steam exploded jubilantly forth. It cleared like a dramatic mist to reveal a huge chunks of what were obviously the mysterious ox cheeks, in a dark, chestnut brown sauce. We tucked in. It was a novelty, this dark, succulent and exquisitely tender meat which wobbled obesely in its cloak of fat and turnip and carrot sauce. Its sidekicks were equally delightful, but in their simplicity rather than their decadence: a gangful of glossy potatoes slick with butter and cocky with their fresh parsley freckles. But it was a small, unobtrusive pot which added the finishing touch: a sneeze-inducing, eye-watering fresh horseradish sauce, made up with a tart crème fraiche.
- Watercress, St Tola and Pear – crunchy, fresh, bitter watercress; sour sweet smooth goat’s cheese and juicy slivers of pear. What better way to lift the palate post-ox?!
- Little Chocolate Pot – It was the perfect end to a perfect relationship. Hand me chocolate and it is almost like guaranteeing my undying affections. There was a collective sigh of bliss round the table. I was silent for a full two and a half minutes. Absorb the sheer magnitude of this. And it can’t have been entirely unrelated to its Lex-quietening properties that this little cuddle-in-a-pot earned even more brownie (‘scuse the pun) points from its adoring fans. Tiny and potent, a little jar of just-liquid chocolate with caramel overtones and a slightly toasted honeycomb aftertaste was topped with a thin slug of single cream, laughing in the face of any recommended daily calorie intake. It really was heavenly. Hands down the best (and no doubt one of the simplest) puds I've ever eaten that I've not cooked myself.
This time we really did roll out of the pub, like six tottering bowling pins, very late afternoon, for a much needed post-lunch walk along the South Bank to watch the sun set. London at its best.
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