Keeping It Simple

 

 

 

This post will be different from most, in that there will be no references to drinking, or post drinking culinary exploits. For the last few weeks I have been behaving like an actual grown up and laying off the drink (apart from the odd glass here and there - nobody's perfect). I'm not sure how much longer this will last, but while it does, let me share a few of my findings:

1. Not consuming more than one drink on a Friday night enables you to achieve feats normally unthinkable on a Saturday.

2. Quite a lot of people are up and about and doing stuff early on Saturday morning.

3. A weekend not spent either drinking or recovering does bring an enormous sense of smuggery, especially when you live with someone who is not following the same regime.

 

 





I'm pleased to say I've been making the most of it. Yesterday (Saturday) morning, after jumping out of bed at 8am (8am!) and having a quick shower and putting my face on, I headed down to my local fishmongers to pick up a crab I had ordered the day before. This in itself was a revelation, because I normally don't make it to the fishmongers before 3pm on a Saturday, by which time there isn't a lot left. At 9am it's a different story. The counter was full of gleaming, glistening, spanking fresh fish, all straight off the boats sitting in the harbour just next to the shop. Unfortunately I had no need of any of it, but that's not the point. I picked up my crab, which was still warm from having just been cooked (caught only hours before) and skipped home with it, shouting loudly 'Morning!' to bemused American tourists, all fresh off the cruise boats.

I could have just ordered crab meat and saved myself the hour it took when I got it home to smash it up, pick, scrape out and painstakingly check for bits of shell, but where would be the fun in that? Also, it is much more cost effective to do it yourself, much more satisfying to eat, and actually quite fun when you get into it. Above all, preparing crab like this at home has given me one thing I did not have previously - an appreciation for the brown meat.

 



Like some crustacean based coming of age, I have graduated from my preference for the sweet white meat, and found true love in the earthier, richer, crabbier, more delicious dark meat. For me, realising that the brown meat is so much nicer than the white is akin to the realisation that the best bit of a prawn is what is contained in the head. It's a graduation, from the safe and childlike to the grown up. From Cosmopolitans to Old Fashioneds. From Dairy Milk to 70% coco solids with chilli. From kissing, to hands-in-pants. There was a time when I wouldn't have touched the stuff. Apart from anything else, it doesn't look very appetising. Even when  it has been properly mixed up, it is essentially a grainy, brown wet paste. 'This isn't for me', I used to think. That is until I stopped buying the meat in bags and started bringing home the tough little fuckers to do battle with in my own home.

 

 

 

You see, there is so much brown meat to be found in a crab (I am talking about brown crabs here, I've yet to have a go on a spider or king crab), and after spending just over £10 and an hour of your life decimating it, to just throw away a good portion of the fruits of your labour seems nuts. So, after deciding to man up, not too long ago, I tried it. Not added to something else, or disguised by other ingredients, or lost in a crab cake, but just on its own, on a slice of freshly baked brown bread and butter, with a bit of white meat on top, mayonnaise and a squeeze of lemon.  And you know what, it was delicious. So much so that I now look forward to the brown meat more than the white. But I have to admit that I have still not moved on from the original brown bread, butter, mayo, lemon combo. Why would I?

 

 

I've thought about it, don't get me wrong, and I own shelves and shelves of books containing hundreds of recipes for crab. A brief search on the internet will bring you hundreds of thousands, but I can't help but return to the question - What's the point? I don't know if it is age, whether I am subliminally taking on board the message being spread by many celebrity chefs at the moment that 'simple is good' or 'take three ingredients', or just that after the recent fixation with 'molecular gastronomy', chemicals in the kitchen, foams, spherification, mists, gels and Heston, we're all just craving something different again. But whatever it is, I'm certainly finding the most exciting things I'm eating at the moment, both in my kitchen and outside of it, are simple and inexpensive. A few weeks ago for lunch, I ate a few bits of toasted ciabatta rubbed with garlic, some chopped ripe tomatoes that had been sitting for ten minutes in olive oil, white wine vinegar and salt and pepper, some fresh basil leaves, and some amazing mozzarella.

 

 

 

The mozzarella so creamy inside that it barely held itself together. A bit of fresh black pepper on top and that was it. A few years ago I would have turned my nose up at that (cheese and tomato on toast? Piss off), but right now it just feels right. Whether you're a bit strapped for cash or not, what's the point in eating expensive items all the time? Don't get me wrong, I won't ever stop eating and enjoying fillet steak, foie Gras, oysters, lobster and champagne, it's just that I don't think there's the need to do it as often. Thrifty cooks from around the world unite: Keep it simple. It's the future (I've seen it).

The Land Of The Free (and the home of the chicken wing)

Last November (2012) I went to California for one week. Principally for a beautiful wedding, secondly to eat. During that week, we (my lovely friends Jodie and Nick...a couple...it was an interesting time) watched the sunset on Venice beach (all holding hands), drove up the coast from Santa Monica to to San Fransisco, met a lovely lesbian called Kathy, nearly died of fear in 'The Tenderloin' (look it up), saw more old Chinese women hanging out of bins than I'd care to mention, gazed upon the (somewhat disappointingly small) Hollywood sign 'in the flesh', got ID'd more times in 24 hours than in the last 10 years put together, saw some things in a sex shop on The Castro that will remain burned into our souls forever, fell in love with American Beer, and ate 50+ of the hottest chicken wings EVER. I ate a lot of hot chicken wings. A very lot. Every day. At every meal. In fact, wherever we went, if there were chicken wings on offer, we ordered some. And God they were good. Some better than others, but all very, very good.

I am slightly dubious about the 'chicken wing' description bandied about on the menus, because if these wings come from actual chickens, they must be the biggest chickens known to humanity. All of them were at least double the size of any chicken wing I have ever seen in the UK. I understand that in 'The States' everything is bigger. The cars, the roads, the portions, the people...but my God, these wings were something else. I can only imagine the horror of the steroids and the factory farming, but we were only there for a week. And as they say, when in Rome. By way of some kind of penance, when I got home I bought a vegan cookbook and tried coconut milk yogurt for the first time ever. Have you ever tried coconut milk yogurt? If you haven't, don't. I've tried it for you. It's fucking horrible.

(FYI, this is me eating the hottest ones we found. It was a special moment, and one that I'm glad we captured. Thank you Jodie. Note how red my lips are and the concentrated frown. I can still feel the burn)

If I try and put my finger on why the chicken wings were all so amazing, I think it was a combination of factors. Firstly, as I've just gone on about at length, they were all massive, which really helps. Secondly, they were all, I am quite certain, deep fried after being coated in some sort of heavily seasoned flour, making the outside fantastically crispy. Thirdly, they were all finished in a variation of hot sauce and butter, and then brought straight out to you with a bowl of blue cheese sauce and some celery. For me, the last two items are unnecessary. You can keep your offensive garnish and creamy sauce thanks Uncle Sam, just give me the good stuff. I imagine I'm on my own here as the whole blue sauce thing is a bit of an institution, but it's just not for me.

I cannot imagine a better accompaniment to a few cold beers. Yes, you get covered in sauce and your hands get sticky and it's not pleasant to watch or be watched while getting stuck in, but who cares? Oooooh Matron! (I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Every now and then my Inner Kenneth Williams flares up and I just can't help myself).

Anyway, I spent most of the journey up to San Fransisco when I should have been admiring the breath taking scenery from the back of the car, day dreaming about how I was going to open a pub in Finsbury Park in North London on my return to Blighty that only serves a vast selection of independent top quality beers, and chicken wings. That's it. You want cocktails? Fuck off down Upper Street. Do we do crisps? I think you'll find Tesco have shelves of them. Tomato Juice? WHO ORDERS TOMATO JUICE IN A PUB? EVER? GET OUT MORON. I'm not sure how far that sort of attitude would get me during a time where pubs in the UK are closing at a rate of about 2,000 a day (or something), but I recon I could make it work.

Other than the chicken wings, we ate some spectacular food, and I took photos of pretty much everything. I behaved at every opportunity like the worst possible sort of tourist cum food blogger imaginable (I don't actually apply that title to myself). Snapping away whenever it took my fancy, at both my food, and my dining companions. As you can see from just a couple of shots, they were well happy about it:

 

I think that this particular face came about at the end of a week of eating high calorie, carbohydrate and fat rich food, by which point we were all just screaming internally for a salad. Incidentally, this was the place where I ate the best macaroni cheese ever. Ever. Fair play it was enough to feed about four people, and by then I should have known that my body was on the ropes, screaming for something green and steamed, but it was our last night, and I HAD to have macaroni cheese before we flew back to the UK. I'd gone on about it all week, and this was my last opportunity (who has macaroni cheese for breakfast?)

I won't include everything in tedious detail, so I've picked a few of my favourites. Like the prawn omelette. And the deep fried Twinky - the wrongest thing ever created for human consumption. You think Findus Crispy Pancakes aren't right? You've got no idea.

Sandwiches

This was THE BEST fish sandwich I have ever eaten. Swordfish it was, and probably the only piece of fish I ate all week.

 'The Big Steve'. Meat, cheese, salad, mayo, chutney, rye bread, sandwich heaven.

Chicken Wings

 

(mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm)

Breakfast in Alcatraz 

(doesn't look that bad to me)

 

Deep Fried Twinky 

(Seriously)

Best Omelette In The World 

(Grilled tiger prawns, fresh goat cheese, oven roasted tomatoes, spinach. In Downtown Hollywood, in the trendiest restaurant we were lucky enough to stumble across. So trendy they had a crazy bath in the middle of the floor, suspended above which were many bottles of honey. Very cool.)

 

Amazing Sushi

(Santa Monica, night 2. Notable not only for the quality of the fish, nor the amount that we spent, but for the beauty of our waiter. I would have got a picture of him, but I was too embarrassed to take one after he overheard me saying something inappropriate regarding what I actually wanted for dessert.

Hot Sauce

(Found on every table of every bar. Why can't it be like this in Britain?)

And Finally, THANK YOU

(To Jodie and Nick, who put up with me all week preventing any sort of romance happening. I couldn't have asked for two better travelling companions. Love you both)

My Finest Hour

Sometimes, just occasionally, the combination of a few drinks and food preparation enable you to work magic. Often things just end up burnt, or undercooked, or as has happened on more than one occasion, abandoned completely after a collective decision to abandon ship. Just recently, I have been pushing the boundaries a bit. My kitchen boundaries that is. It is all too easy to get stuck in a rut where food is concerned. I read an article recently by Jay Rayner who extolled the virtues of cooking the same small number of dishes on repeat, in order that you know them inside out, can do them almost without thinking, and that they bring a sense of comfort and tradition etc.

I do agree. My quest for bolognaise perfection trundles on, I barely go a week these days without eating steak and chips at least once, and if there was a prize for avocado and prawn salad, I'd definitely come top three. However, in the kitchen as in life, sometimes it's good to be brave, flick through the cookbooks and decide to make something you never have before. Last weekend we did just that. We went off to Waitrose on Saturday afternoon looking for inspiration, and managed to get our hands on a Guernsey lobster and 8 HUGE and super fresh Guernsey scallops. I also picked up some vanilla pods, a bag of caster sugar, 6 eggs and a couple of pints of full fat milk.

Once we saw the shellfish I knew I had to make spaghetti. Garlic, tomatoes, lobster, scallops, parsley and spaghetti make perfect pan partners. The most satisfaction I got from this dish, other than the eating of course, was cleaning the Lobster (i.e. getting all of the meat out of it). It has been quite a long time since I did this last, and the last time I did, I had a crate of 60 to do. After a few hours my hands were so red and sore and raw and cold and cut, that I wouldn't have been sorry never to have seen one of the little red fuckers ever again. But, as they say, time is a great healer, and as I was in my own kitchen and didn't have an angry chef breathing down my neck, I was able to tackle this chap in my own time and at my own pace. The trick is all in the 'thwack', using  the back of a large knife at appropriate points (for the claws), and just having a large, sharp, heavy kitchen knife to split the back. In no time at all, I had shelled my lobster and had a pretty plate. Sometimes, I pretend in my head that I am presenter of my own TV. Can you tell? Here's one I prepared earlier...

Lobster, scallop, tomato and chilli spaghetti.

(feeds two, easily)

1 lobster, cooked and cleaned, cut into bite size pieces

8 scallops. Trimmed, roes and muscle separated.

1 carton creamed tomatoes, or 6 super ripe fresh tomatoes finely chopped.

2 cloves garlic, grated (if you don't have a Microplane grater GET ONE)

1 red onion, finely chopped.

1 fresh red chilli, finely chopped.

Handful flat leaf parsley, finely chopped.

Olive oil

Salt and pepper

150g(ish) spaghetti. Touch your thumb and forefinger together, and you want a bit less that can fit in the hole. Grow up.

Fill a large saucepan with plenty of water and a good handful of cheap salt. It would be nice to only use Maldon for everything, but I don't think it's worth it for cooking pasta. In a large deep sided saucepan (you will need to finish cooking the pasta in this so make sure it is big enough), heat some oil and gently fry the red onion, chilli and garlic until soft. Add the tomatoes and let it bubble away.

Heat a frying pan until smoking hot, slice the scallops in half (so you have two disks), pat dry, dab with a bit of oil, add to the pan, season, leave for 1 1/2 minutes and then turn and leave for 1 1/2 minutes, then remove onto a plate and put to one side. When all the scallop muscles have been seared (you want them to be nicely caramelised, but not cooked all the way through), add the scallop roes to the pan and cook for three minutes, shaking the pan every now and then. Remove and put to one side. Add the spaghetti to the now boiling water and half cook. Lift the spaghetti out of the water and into the tomato pan, and add a couple of ladle's of water. 

Turn the heat up under the tomato pan and continue cooking the pasta until it is as you like it (hopefully al dente). Ensure it doesn't stick to the bottom of the pan, and if it starts to look a bit dry add more pasta water. When the pasta is cooked just right and the sauce is the right consistency (not too thick or too wet, you know what you like, again, GROW UP), add the lobster and the scallops and the parsley to the pasta, take off the heat, give it a stir, stand for a minute, and serve with a bit of parsley to scattered over the top so it looks pretty. Keep well away from Parmesan cheese, and eat by candle light with a nice light red and someone you're in love with (it tastes much better that way).

After the success of the spaghetti, I had it in my head that I was kitchen invincible, and decided to (for the first time) make one of my favourite puddings: Iles Flottantes (floating islands). I think that this is the perfect pudding for a number of reasons. 1. It is stupidly simple in that it has very few ingredients. 2. It is devilishly complicated because there are so many things to go wrong, so when you get it right it makes you feel like a hero. 3. It is unbelievably light and at the same time rich and decadent, and finally 4. It is a French classic, and whenever I master one of these, it makes me very happy. The pastry God's smiled down on me, as my meringue was perfect (I only used egg white and sugar, no lemon juice), I cooked the crème anglaise to just the right point so it was double cream thickness and totally smooth, and I managed to make caramel. Perfectly. So much so that I was able to make some sugar run offs to decorate. So proud of myself was I, that we opened the bottle of Tokaji I put in the fridge a few hours earlier 'just in case'. I think Diesel enjoyed it as much as me, although I can't be sure as I was having so much fun myself I wasn't paying much attention to anything else.

Iles Flottantes (taken from Michel Roux 'Eggs')

Meringue

1 Litre whole milk.

190g Caster sugar

6 Medium egg whites

Creme Anglaise

500ml Whole milk

125g Caster sugar

1 Vanilla pod, split lengthways

6 egg yolks

Caramel

200g Caster sugar

Heat the milk and 50g of the sugar in a wide shallow pan until it comes to boiling point. Once it has reached this, turn the temperature down and maintain it at just below simmering point.

Beat the egg whites to a thick foam and shower in the sugar (heat the sugar a bit first if you can, it helps for some reason) and beat until you have firm peaks. I can't tell you how much easier this is if you have a Kitchen Aid or similar. If you don't, an electric whisk will give you the same results but take more time, and if you're going back to basics and whisking by hand, all I'll say is that I hope you've been eating your spinach.

A proven way to test whether it is ready or not is to turn the bowl upside down. If it doesn't fall out, it's ready. Using a large metal spoon, lift out a large spoonful of the meringue and shape into a dome on the spoon with a pallet knife. Dip the spoon in the hot milk, and the meringue should slide off (if it doesn't, just give it a bit of help with the pallet knife). Rinse the spoon immediately, and repeat with the rest of the meringue. If you run out of room in the pan just poach them in a few batches. Poach for two minutes and then turn and poach for a further two minutes. Once finished lift out of the pan with a skimmer onto a tea towel to drain, and then onto a lightly oiled plate, cover with cling film and put in the fridge.

To make the crème anglaise, put the milk in a saucepan with 2/3 of the sugar, add the vanilla pod and bring to the boil over a medium heat (make sure you mix it at first until the sugar is dissolved or you run the risk of the sugar sticking to the bottom of the pan). In a separate bowl whisk the egg yolks with the remaining sugar until much lighter in colour and at a light ribbon consistency (about as thick as extra thick double cream). Slowly pour the milk on to the egg yolks, whisking continuously. Clean and dry the pan you've just used, and return the mixture to it. Over a very gentle heat, stir with a wooden spoon. As soon as the custard starts to thicken take off the heat. A few seconds can be the difference between custard and scrambled eggs. Remove the vanilla pod. If you're unsure just keep moving the pan on and off the heat. Remember it will thicken on cooling. Put in the fridge.

Once the crème anglaise has cooled, spoon into bowls. In each bowl add a meringue. For the caramel, heat in a heavy based pan the 200g sugar until a light golden colour. Keep a bowl filled with iced water next to the stove so you can dip the pan into it to prevent the caramel overcooking once it is the right colour. When you are happy, drizzle over the meringues, and then over some greaseproof paper to create some sugar run offs to decorate. Once cooled, stick in the meringue and serve. Heaven.

Easter, It's Not Just For Christians.

When was the last time you ate trifle? Seriously now, have a think. While you're at it, when was the last time you had jelly and ice cream? or an ice cream Sunday? For me, these classics were relegated to my childhood, along with listening to music in my room for hours on end and smoking out of my bedroom window. For a long time I'd convinced myself that I hated trifle, mainly because of the jelly. 'Don't trust food that moves of its own accord' was my mantra, along with 'don't eat anything luminous'. However, just as it is only in the last 5 years I have been acquainted with the joys of piccalilli, more recently I have been dipping my toe into the custard, as it were, and falling in deeply in love.

When I was little, trifle was found in the fridge at Christmas time made by my Nan (I wasn't a massive fan for some reason. Of the trifle, not my Nan. By the way, that's not my Nan at the top, it's just a picture from 'The Internet', Copyright what?), and in later years found in individual, foil sealed plastic tubs with 'Sainsbury's Strawberry Trifle' written on the top. I don't remember ever touching these, and neither did my Mum, but my Dad who has a penchant for all things horrendous (Fray Bentos steak and kidney pies, fried egg on fried cheese on fried bread, griebenschmalz on toast...Google it) got through about 5 - 10 of these a week. I have to admit that at some point during my formative years I was partial to the Cadbury's chocolate trifles, but I don't put them in the same category, so I'll save that one for another day.

Anyway, Saturday just gone I was feeling a bit delicate, and had a very particular hunger. I wanted prawns and spaghetti, steak, chips, roasted mushrooms, avocado, and...trifle. I literally don't know what came over me. So, as you'd expect, I made one myself. Sort of. Whilst at the shop I spent some time sizing up the ready made trifles, and eventually came to the conclusion that although I wasn't feeling up to making my own custard, I definitely could do better than something knocked up in a factory.  I also decided that although I wanted something authentic, as we are in 2013, and despite the fact that we are in a double dip recession, I could do better than tinned fruit and ladies fingers.

My authenticity (when I say authentic, I mean the opposite of de-constructed, Nigella 'this is MY take on a classic' Lawson, nonsense) hinged on there being jelly in there somewhere. Not just fancy compote and real fruit, actual jelly. Hartley's Strawberry Jelly. Ripped into cubes into a Pyrex jug, painstakingly stirred (for ages) with hot water, indecently wobbly once set, jelly. My first major fuck up was trying to whip single cream - unsurprisingly it wouldn't. After 20 minutes in the KitchenAid at the highest setting, I had to admit defeat. My second major fuck up was when I realised that I didn't have a suitable bowl to make the trifle in. This should be cut glass, with straight sides, and deep. I made do with the Denby fruit bowl, but I did miss seeing the layers (it's the small things).

Despite these two fails, on eating it I was in jelly and custard heaven. I had forgotten the brilliant farty, sucking noise you get when serving trifle, and the way that the sponge soaks up the jelly to form a strange spongy, wobbly, moist union, so much greater than the sum of its parts. Because of the cream disaster (we just poured cream on top once it was in individual bowls) it did look a bit of a state, and if you have the time to make your own custard and wait for it to cool, all the better. But, for a pudding that took minimal effort it achieved maximum satisfaction. I'll put my 'recipe' if you can call it that, below for anyone who fancies getting reacquainted.

Top Tip - if you find yourself alone with it and you want to feel really decadent, eat it whilst in the bath, preferably with an enormous spoon. You might feel a bit self-conscious at first, but once you get past that, you won't stop smiling. And during these economically difficult and depressing times, it's a cheap thrill that costs nothing and harms nobody (just make sure you lock the bathroom door first).

Ingredients:

1 Tub top quality fresh vanilla custard (Waitrose or M&S do the best)

1 Packet of Hartley's Strawberry Jelly.

1 lemon drizzle loaf cake.

1 box of fresh  strawberries.

1 tub whipping cream.

Method:

Cut the loaf cake into chunky fingers (two finger width) and arrange at the bottom of your serving bowl. If you have it, splash over a bit of sherry, or Marsala, or if you're feeling dangerous, vodka (if you do use a spirit, use less than you would wine, obviously) Slice your strawberries in half (I like big bits of strawberry, and strawberry is a delicate fruit so doesn't really like being cut up small) and arrange them on top of the cake. Make your jelly according to packet instructions, and then pour all over your cake and strawberries. Refrigerate until the jelly has set (this varies, but allow at least a couple of hours). Once set, pour over the custard and put back in fridge while you whip the cream. Once, whipped, spoon over the top of the custard, run yourself a bath, find a big spoon, and remember to lock the door.

In other news, in the spirit of the season I decided to make some hot cross buns (yes with fresh yeast - I've also been rediscovering bread making, more of that later). Unfortunately, I forgot to put a cross of the top of them, so they are, according to Diesel 'Atheist Buns', and very tasty they were too.  Shame I can't get the bloody picture the right way up, but you get the idea.

Bo Selecta

Bo Selecta

I promised you a run down on The Most Exciting Meal I Have Eaten All Year, so here it is. After reading a glowing review in The Sunday Times Magazine by AA Gill of a new London restaurant, I knew I had to go. After hastily booking a table for two on my Birthday, I then read every review I could find, and was thrilled and terrified in equal measure by everything I read. 'eye wateringly expensive' was a phrase that cropped up again and again, but I still believed the food would be worth it. So, on the 4th March 2013 (after purchasing a leather biker jacket and new scarf so I felt like I'd fit in somewhere trendy - God I'm getting old) at 1pm, Diesel and I strolled into Bo London, the first UK restaurant of the chef Alvin Leung ('Demon Chef' - his words, not mine), according to many, the 'Chinese Heston Blumenthal'.

http://bolondonrestaurant.com/

To say it was quiet would be an understatement. I'm not sure if it was the prices or the fact it was a Monday lunch time, but it didn't matter. There was some classic disco house playing in the background, and anyway, I was too excited about the food. There was us, one other table of two, and another couple who strolled in pissed when we were about half way through. They ate some stuff, spent a lot of time outside smoking between courses, and got through a few cocktails and a bottle of wine. If I can afford to be so nonchalant when dining out at 'eye wateringly expensive' restaurants at some point in the future, I'll be a very happy (and probably very unhealthy) lady. Lucky bastards.

Other Couple No 2 were on their fourth course as we started our first, and we echoed every gasp of surprise and giggle, a little bit like an emotional Mexican wave, but with more cutlery. I booked this place expecting the food to be a bit mental, and I wasn't disappointed. I was especially happy when I realised that we could have the same menu that AA Gill had. From the start, everything was surprising, exciting, a bit strange at times, a bit bizarre at times, but always delicious. Probably half of my joy came from having 11 courses at lunch, but then I am a bit of a pleb.

The Menu

Course 1: Dead Garden. Inside a pretty little bamboo box came the lightest avocado mousse I have ever tasted (it basically collapsed as soon as you touched it), covered with a dust made from morel mushrooms, a sprinkling of ginger dust, and dried enoki mushroom 'trees'. It wasn't a taste sensation like the first time you taste foie gras, but it was tasty, and it certainly had a novelty factor. God knows what sort of equipment they have in that kitchen.

Course 2: Bed and Breakfast: Presented on a beautiful little silver tree, two soft centred smoked quails eggs in a basket made out of fried taro root topped with caviar. Very tasty, but if I'm honest, I liked it because it reminded me of fried bread and fried eggs. The caviar did add a certain 'I don't know what' that you tend not to get in a greasy spoon though.

Course 3: Cloud. Unbelievably exciting, if only because it was the first thing I have ever been served on a bowl full of liquid nitrogen. The bubbling smoke was scented with rose water, the mackerel was AMAZING (I won't go into how much I love raw mackerel, as I have done at least 3 times previously), the pickled ginger added the right amount of sweet/sharp/spicy, and the grey ponzo foam was a stroke of genius 'to represent the British weather', as we were reliably informed by our French waitress. Thankfully, even I am a bit above taking comments about the British weather personally, and anyway were having far too much fun.

Course 4: Foie Gras. A huge piece, pan fried to perfection, on a bed of puffed rice noodles, with a few bits of red pepper and the most amazing sauce, made according to an old family recipe from the Chef's wife 'Abby', containing white miso and Chinese wine, and probably a number of other things. It was my favourite course, and the most hilarious. We were instructed to eat it with our hands, which reminded me of that Chinese Takeaway favourite 'Yuk Sung'. Every other time I have eaten Foie Gras in a restaurant it is prepared and served with a certain amount of gravitas, usually accompanies by something equally as expensive or refined (Bing Cherries, hazelnuts, fillet steak etc.) The novelty of eating a piece of it wrapped in an iceberg lettuce leaf BY HAND still makes me smile.

Course 5: Scallop. Just the one, with a barely there foam that left just a whiff of pea in your mouth, perfectly cooked, with jolo (no idea) and something crispy. It was delicious.

Course 6: Steak and Kidney. Steamed dim sum, filled with meaty steak and kidney (cut extra fine so there were no unpleasant chewy bits) and topped with more caviar to replace the oysters that were contained therein, back in the day when oysters were cheap and St Paul's was the tallest building in London. Now I don't like steak and Kidney (pudding or pie), but this was very good, and very clever. A steamed pudding to a steamed dumpling isn't a massive leap, but it does require thought and skill.

Course 7: Suckling Pig. Far and away the most beautiful dish, but the most disappointing for me. The flavours worked very well together (although the vanilla apple was a bit too vanilla and sweet and overtook the taste of the pork) and I loved the shavings of sweet poached pears, but the pork was really very chewy. which made for some very pregnant pauses in our conversation as we got through it. Great crackling though.

Course 8. Bai Jui. Essentially parfait (to quote Donkey from Shrek 'Everybody like parfait!'), with some caramel and some passion fruit honeycomb, all very light and delicious. I would have been happy with the honeycomb alone - it was a revelation. Flavoured Honey comb? We're a long way from home now Tonto.

Course 9. Coconut. A perfect Crème Brulee with some lovely sharp cherries hiding at the bottom of it. A master class in the most basic custard pudding. Perfect texture, perfect sweetness, perfectly thin and crisp caramel top.

Course 10: Petit Dim Sum. Macaroons which tasted just like err, macaroons (they were flavoured but by this point we were a bottle of wine down and drinking a glass of Chinese Ice wine which I was much more excited about) and some other little chocolate things which I nudged across the table towards Diesel (no noses were involved).

Course 11: Sex on The Beach. This is where it really got interesting. This course was optional and cost an additional £8, with all proceeds going to The Aids Foundation. That's all you're told - no descriptions, not details, nothing. This arrived:

Yes, that is a condom, albeit a condom made out of strawberry gelatine. And whilst that might look like...the stuff that you would expect to find in a used condom, it is in fact condensed milk. That there it is lying on is a beach made of honeycomb biscuit sand, underneath which was another mousse of something or other, and next to it is an shell made of (milk?) ice cream. It WAS delicious, and we didn't spill a drop(!), but for novelty/taste/hilarity this gets the prize for My Favourite Dish 2013 (Previous year's winners include 'Meat Fruit' at Dinner and the Cheese Soufflé at Le Gavroche). I'd go again for this alone. Which is interesting, as when we asked someone what the usual reaction from customers is on being served this, we were told that half of the people who had chosen it told them it had ruined their whole evening, and left at great haste. We were definitely in the other camp. I can't say I'm surprised that this is a dish that polarises people and I certainly couldn't imagine explaining it to my parents, but surely that's half the point. Most sadly, I think this is one that I won't ever be able to recreate at home (It would make for an interesting Saturday afternoon and subsequent post though).

The service was as you would expect from somewhere charging £100 for a set lunch menu, the restaurant itself is comfortable, elegant and very cool, everything we ate had clearly taken a lot of time and effort to put together (and was worth it, mostly), and if this isn't a restaurant hell bent on getting stars of the Michelin variety then I don't know what is. In fact, if by the end of 2013 they don't have one, I'll eat my hat, or another one of those strawberry love gloves. God knows I won't need much encouragement.

Hookers, Chicken and The Blues

Snow day in Guernsey. Nope, I didn't believe it possible either, but it's happening. I'm here in the spare room watching the snow swirl around outside, glad of the fact I'm not sitting in a car or walking home any more. I have just about gotten over our trip to London a few weeks ago. Perhaps not financially (that may take a few months), but emotionally and gastronomically, pretty much. There were so many highlights: Seeing my wonderful family and friends, listening to 'Anna Kounikova' sang live in The Blues Kitchen in Camden on my actual birthday, and of course the eating (and drinking). One of the meals will get a post of its own because it utterly deserves it, but this is the best of the rest:

Zuma (Knightsbridge)

http://www.zumarestaurant.com/zuma-landing/london/en/welcome

Highlights: A very, very, very cool bar and restaurant, and my first ever visit. We went on a Friday lunchtime and there was a real buzz about the place. It was packed out, and everything we ate and drank was delicious, from the glass of champagne we had on arrival, to the chilled Sake, to the miso soup served with the Wagyu beef. Sashimi was spectacular (especially the mackerel, which is the best fish in my opinion to eat raw), the sushi was also spot on, the Wagyu beef was, well, Wagyu beef, so it was of course rich and buttery. And the decadent glass of Tokaji (2003) that I sneakily ordered while Diesel was in the bathroom was the icing on the cake. All in all, a very extravagant lunch for a Friday. The other highlight was that we didn't have to go Dutch as it was my birthday. Thank Goodness too, as I did see the bill, and it was eye watering. The photo below is of some prawns wrapped in something I don't remember and deep fried, served with a dashi based dipping sauce. Is there anyone who doesn't like deep fried prawns??

Lowlights: We didn't have the best table, a lot of the courses were brought out at the same time, and we weren't always told what we were being served, which was disappointing. If I go for a pizza I don't expect to be told in Detail what I've just been given, but when you're spending the best part of a ton each on a tasting menu, before drinks and service, for which you aren't given a menu on the table to refer to, a bit of conversation would have been appreciated. Also, it did feel a bit rushed. Minor complaints though because the food and drink were delicious. We didn't spot any Kardashians which wasn't exactly disappointing, but there were lots of impossibly beautiful young Russian models with short, old, balding, unattractive men. From the look of boredom on the ladies faces, I don't think they were there for the sparkling wit and conversation. It's not that I mind being surrounded by hookers when eating expensive raw fish, it's just that it feels a bit unusual. Or maybe that's just me. Anyway...

Chicken Shop (Highgate)

http://www.chickenshop.com/

Highlights: Pretty much everything. The menu couldn't be more simple (Spit roasted chicken, either whole, half or quarter, four side dishes to choose from, three desserts, and red or white wine in three price brackets. That's literally it.) The service was warm and friendly, attentive, quick, just generally exactly what you wish it was every time you go out to eat. We went without a booking, with two toddlers under four, and five adults, and everyone (from the under twos to the over sixtys) couldn't get over how good the food was. Chicken and chips is one of my favourite things anyway, as it reminds me of some of our first visits to Spain, where I had garlic chicken and chips together for the same time (to a five year old from the Midlands on holiday in Spain at the end of the 80's, that seemed pretty fucking exotic, believe me). I can still taste it now. Sides: Corn on the cob came slathered in butter, avocado and bib lettuce salad offered a necessary bit of greenery (I am still in the throes of a protracted love affair with avocado). Coleslaw was fresh and not drowned in mayonnaise, chips were hot and crispy and seasoned perfectly, and the hot sauce (blow your nuts off) and chipotle hot sauce (deeply smoky) went perfectly. The absolute highlight was the family sized apple pie that was brought straight out to us from the kitchen, straight from the oven, and served at the table to us individually, with one of those huge spoons more commonly found in school canteens. All puddings (the apple pie, the lemon cheese cake and hot chocolate brownie) come with vanilla ice cream and an enormous jug of double cream (yes, we tried them all). I am not joking when I say that this is the best apple pie I have EVER EATEN. There are no photo's of it because it was eaten far too quickly. Nursery food at its absolute best. Next time I go to London, I am going to get here at lunchtime, eat all afternoon, drink lots of wine, and roll out just in time for bed. If you take anything I say seriously,  please visit this place. Cheers.



Lowlights: Really struggling here...the wine was served in a white jug into tumblers, which I know is all the rage and that but it's just not my sort of thing. That's probably about it, and that isn't really a complaint. It was a bit of a bastard to find (there isn't exactly a name above the door) which was frustrating because we were hungry and hung-over, but I suppose that's not really a problem because it makes it feel all the more like some sort of secret club. Let's be honest, this place won't win any Michelin stars, but that's not the point of chicken and chips. The only other lowlight I can really think of is that it's so far away from Guernsey.

Hong Kong Diner (Soho)

http://hkdinerlondon.com/

Highlights: Roasted crispy belly pork with crackling as thin as glass, stir fried pak choi with garlic and ginger, soft shell crab and hot and sour soup.

Lowlights: The goyza were a bit disappointing, the service is...interesting, and it certainly isn't a glamorous place to eat. This was my second trip to this restaurant, my first with a hangover and my first with someone who doesn't really like Chinese food. I had to do all the ordering (which was in itself a bit stressful), but I somehow managed to order the right amount of food (a revelation), nothing came in a thick and gloopy sauce, and although you're in the heart of China town, sitting in one of the booths felt like a little retreat from the madness of Soho, and the food was just as good as I remembered it. Double thumbs up.

The Blues Kitchen Camden (Camden)

http://www.theblueskitchen.com/

Highlights: Chicken wings that tasted as good as the ones we had every day in California, a HUGE portion of beef ribs for £10 (Monday nights are rib nights), having dinner with Chris, Caz and Dave, and seeing a school friend (http://www.oliverdarling.com/) play the guitar and sing for a few hours. It really was the perfect way to spend a birthday. All rounded off by late night mojitos in a dodgy bar in Camden. Now that's what I call turning 28 2013!



Lowlights: The service was disorganised, but very friendly, and there was a huge group in for a works party who made more noise than I think I have ever heard any group make, ever. Other than that, no complaints at all.

Dinner Chez Faulkner (Finchley, it's not easy to get a table here though I'm afraid)

Highlights: Watching Romaine teach my four year old niece how to plait hair, watching my nephew take his first unaided steps, eating a wonderful chilli made by my fabulous brother (made with shin of beef, slow cooked for three days, pinto beans, can of larger, amazing), guacamole made by Romaine, chocolate cake, seeing my Mum, staying up late drinking red wine.



Lowlights: Don't be ridiculous.