tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83769450121093521122024-03-18T04:47:03.010+00:00Essex EatingGastronomic trial and error in Essex, London and now Bristol.Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.comBlogger244125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-37219854494077221872015-11-11T14:36:00.001+00:002015-11-11T14:36:52.769+00:00Bellita - Bristol<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTi3JoBAf6PgaQYr5A51kQnFXdc7HVS-HaoEB8cSPtFBl04TMcRjas7hJ9b_-3qbktwjBREqu3QJ8oQmw7z_8WABdKRE8AYOdPlD89NM6Kgnzojz2Ng6soaHV02G1AWW42JCjiEYlEzAao/s1600/DSC_0090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTi3JoBAf6PgaQYr5A51kQnFXdc7HVS-HaoEB8cSPtFBl04TMcRjas7hJ9b_-3qbktwjBREqu3QJ8oQmw7z_8WABdKRE8AYOdPlD89NM6Kgnzojz2Ng6soaHV02G1AWW42JCjiEYlEzAao/s320/DSC_0090.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, my favourite Bristol restaurant, Bell’s Diner has spawned an offshoot (A boisterous little sister, in their own words) Bellita. Located on the site of the highly regarded Flinty Red; which recently ascended to restaurant Valhalla. It’s always sad when a respected restaurant closes its doors, but these things happen and change is apparently good. So that’s enough mourning. Onwards and upwards. The King is dead, long live the Queen! And all that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m extremely pleased to report that after three visits (just to be sure) it appears that Bellita has hit the ground running and is living up to the ‘enfant terrible’ of Bell’s tag; seemingly rather effortlessly. A fact that leaves me with the total non-dilemma of living smack-bang equidistant between my favourite restaurant (Bell’s) and its sibling, Bellita; Yes, I am the proverbial dog with two dicks.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The food at Bell’s Diner has always been superb and it’s their sous chef; Joe Harvey under Head Chef Sam Sohn-Rethel who has made the leap and is running the kitchen at Bellita; bringing a few favourites off their menu along, as well as a whole load of new dishes encompassing the same Spanish, North African, Mediterranean vibe that has made Bell’s Diner so consistently interesting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As at Bell’s, Kate Hawking’s has pulled together a cracking, tight little wine list backed up by an interesting selection of shims (aperitifs) shrubs (fruit cordials made with fruit, sugar and vinegar) and shandies (ginger or raspberry) along with classic Negroni’s and Campari/Aperol Spritz.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I should mention the restaurant interior, because despite the food at Flinty Red being superb, I was never really taken with the actual room. It had something of a 1980’s wine bar feel about it and just seemed a bit Spartan and characterless. The new owners have addressed this somewhat, the colour scheme being subtly warmer. The large, ugly ceiling air-con panels have gone. There’s also some high tables and stools to perch on, with seating running down one side of the room. It’s definitely an improvement.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I mentioned before, I’ve been a few times now and the potato and parmesan fritters are f*cking immense. Yeah, I do have a thing for potatoes…and cheese (which right minded person doesn’t?) but bloody hell, tres oui to the upmost. I’ll just say three words; hot, crisp, oozing. My work here is done.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Jamon Iberico croqueta are similarly immense, but my ingrained; greedy bastardo, economy head reckons three spud and cheese fritters for £3, trumps Jamon Iberico croqueta at £2 each EVERY TIME! But then saying that, it’s all so reasonable; live a little and get some of those too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The gem salad with Caesar dressing is definitely worth ordering, to balance out all the frigging potatoes that you’re gonna have to eat. Because It’s a pomme de terre bonanza at Bellita and I couldn’t be more happy. Did I mention how much I frigging love potatoes?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fried potatoes with aioli and mojo verde (I had to ask what mojo verde was, turns out it’s a mint-chilli version of salsa verde) How good does that sound. The spuds are so crispy and bloody delicious. So yeah!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But then there’s fried potatoes with chicken stock and parsley and these are even better. The same crisp, fluffy potatoes as before but paddling around in a pool of intense chicken stock, it’s like some kind of messed up potato package holiday in that bowl, until you ruin the potato party, playing the part of a ravenous spud eating Godzilla type monster, reaching in and plucking one before devouring it an orgy or violence.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Errrr….is it just me who thinks like this?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Moving swiftly on….</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Burnt aubergine. Pepper and onion salad with pomegranates and chilli. Very Ottolenghi’ish and a cracking little side order.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rice, Feta and Saffron Filo parcel with pumpkin borani and pistachios. This was a stunning plate of food. I ate these with my mate Elly, and she was absolutely ecstatic; making all sorts of alarming growling noises from across the other side of the table. It’s such a nicely balanced dish, sweet pumpkin, sour yoghurt, salty feta, crisp filo and creamy borani. These are a definite must order. In fact, maybe order two rounds of these.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sam from Bell’s Diner has had a similar dish to this on the menu from way back when he was working at Manna; slow cooked trout, tzatziki and pickled cucumber. Beautiful, soft and translucent fish, slightly sweet, when eaten with the creamy yoghurt and sharpness of the cucumber it’s a superb plate of food.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wasn’t such a fan of the Cornish clams cooked in garlic butter with leeks and Pernod. It looked cracking and I loved the bowl it was served in, but I thought the alcohol whack from the Pernod was a bit on the aggressive side and slightly overpowering.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Chorizo, morcilla and butifarra with white beans, cooked with smoked ham hock and aioli is a banging plate of food, a small bowl of everything meaty and there’s sod all wrong with that. Definitely one for eating alongside the fried potatoes and mopping up with some bread.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After this lot, I was stuffed silly, but still managed to pitch in and help demolish a rather superb chocolate torte with salted caramel sauce and mascarpone. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s obvious that the team at Bell’s Diner have got another huge success on their hands. The food is happily, very similar in terms of quality and style to what you’d find on the menu at Bellita’s older, more established sibling but there’s a slightly different vibe. It’s more informal and more about sticking your head in and propping up the bar with a few small plates rather than booking and sitting down to full on meals. Although you can definitely do that as well, I’m looking forward to ordering the Charcoal-grilled 8 year old Galician beef sirloin with chicken stock potatoes, for two; at some point. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, in conclusion I’ve got a cracking little offshoot of my favourite Bristol restaurant just a 5 minute walk from my flat and Bristol has another superb restaurant to add to the existing handful of true belters. Winner-winner chicken stock fried potato dinner. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Bellita</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>34 Cotham Hill</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Bristol</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>BS6 6LA</i></span><br />
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<i>Telephone – 0117 923 8755</i><br />
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<i><a href="http://www.bellita.co.uk/">www.bellita.co.uk</a></i>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-32891924969843691142015-03-09T18:25:00.002+00:002015-03-09T18:25:44.744+00:00Recipe - Spiced root veg with kale and yoghurt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt9DrmCmntwH5GynrycTrkUSopm7xOT5wqzc8jz7xtbRCaSd2ai7et5CHRZWG6dS1c0z4gWAxkl_6UfrAy5ZmZSW6RCN2SNUWB2QwEZTKcurjEcxKiPYEyQxnC3TQ00NDya815Fhhb_UOr/s1600/IMG_2360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt9DrmCmntwH5GynrycTrkUSopm7xOT5wqzc8jz7xtbRCaSd2ai7et5CHRZWG6dS1c0z4gWAxkl_6UfrAy5ZmZSW6RCN2SNUWB2QwEZTKcurjEcxKiPYEyQxnC3TQ00NDya815Fhhb_UOr/s1600/IMG_2360.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Almost every single day of my life is spent surrounded by meat. My day job is managing a BBQ 'Shack' for <a href="http://grillstock.co.uk/">Grillstock</a>, which if you don't know, is a veritable charnel house of dead farm animals that are hickory smoked at low temperatures every single night until, come sunrise, the meat is so tender, you can just pull the bones straight out of the cooked meat with no effort at all. Yeah, it is as frigging good as it sounds.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As you can imagine, in the two years or so I've managed the place, I've eaten a hell of a lot of meat, perhaps too much (Although I remain an unrepentant beef brisket fiend) So its perhaps unsurprising that when I'm cooking at home, I often eat vegetarian.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes. What the actual f*ck. I really did just say that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This Nigel Slater recipe was published in The Observer Magazine. A few weeks ago and I loved its simplicity, cheapness and the fact it was so open to individual interpretation. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Swede, turnip, potatoes, parsnips or a combination all work. Don't have spinach, use kale or chard instead. Its also pretty damn healthy I imagine. Most importantly its absolutely bloody delicious. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Winner, winner, chicken dinner! ...or...errr...not, in this instance.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway..., here's the recipe...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Spiced root veg with kale and yoghurt</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Serves 2</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>You'll need:-</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>1 kg Swede, Turnips, Potatoes, Parsnips (or a combination of any of them, I made it with just swede and it was banging.) Peeled and cut into large pieces</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>1 onion, peeled and roughly chopped</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>knob of butter</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Splash of oil</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>1 tsp turmeric</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>1 tsp garam masala</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>1 tsp cumin seeds</i></span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">200g of spinach, k</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ale or chard washed</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Maldon salt</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Greek yoghurt</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Fresh coriander</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Cook your chosen root vegetables in salted boiling water, you're looking at around 15 mins for large chunks, stick a knife in to see if its cooked. Drain and put to one side.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>In a shallow pan, fry the onion in a little butter and oil until soft, then add the turmeric, garam masala and cumin seeds. Stir and cook off on a moderate heat for a couple of minutes.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Put a large saucepan on the heat, and add the wet spinach, kale or chard and a pinch of Maldon salt. Let it steam until wilted for around 3 mins for spinach, a few minutes longer for kale or chard. Drain and press the water from it.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Add your root veg to the frying onions and continue cooking until they are lightly golden and are coated in some of the spices. Season and fold in the spinach, kale or chard. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Tip the lot it into bowls. Artfully blob with Greek yoghurt and a few coriander leaves. Season again if it needs it. Job-Jobbed.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-81114284718980319422015-02-16T17:48:00.001+00:002015-02-16T17:48:32.108+00:00Recipe - Thyme Roasted Onions, Kale, Mozzarella, Chilli & Lemon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Tiyy20fcdqy4e772QAjh9ZS-ejDKWip7hK0oE_6qVaYj_J_K3csUMGPJMv-l0BF2hDucuFe507OYlfjGdq4gAJucJBjMfq86B3f_qkyXtzr38SDnn7_dtJr3ZkeqDY0RSx7PHX-PsXw9/s1600/IMG_2251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Tiyy20fcdqy4e772QAjh9ZS-ejDKWip7hK0oE_6qVaYj_J_K3csUMGPJMv-l0BF2hDucuFe507OYlfjGdq4gAJucJBjMfq86B3f_qkyXtzr38SDnn7_dtJr3ZkeqDY0RSx7PHX-PsXw9/s1600/IMG_2251.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hello lovely readers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First a bombshell fact that potentially might blow your mungus minds, so brace yourselves.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Would you believe I’ve been writing this blog for six years, on and off?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Six whole f*cking years! Hahahaha that’s longer than most of my relationships. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yeah, OK, I know. Before you start jeering and pointing accusing hands, angrily remonstrating that 2014 could barely be considered a vintage year with regards to this blog and ‘how very dare I talk about six whole years of writing’. (Damn, you people are so passionate). I’ll hold my hands up in a non-confrontational manner (Because we really don’t want to fight about this). And grudgingly admit it was an absolute shitter with regards to actually producing posts, but to be fair that’s because my whole year was literally an absolute shitter in a personal sense. But, hey the less said about that, the better. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway that was then, this is now. What can I say, except here I am back, still the same beautiful, intelligent, gifted individual I always was. Modest, caring and now….frigging sharing via the medium of this very blog!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Look, let’s just hug, make up and perhaps learn to love me once again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ok so now all that unpleasantness is out of the way, let’s talk onions, people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I got the idea for this from Anthony Demetre, Head Chef of <a href="http://essexeating.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/arbutus-london.html">Arbutus</a>. In his excellent book ‘<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/184400614X/?tag=googhydr-21&hvadid=27718786981&hvpos=1o1&hvexid=&hvnetw=g&hvrand=15422293109703046908&hvpone=&hvptwo=&hvqmt=b&hvdev=c&ref=pd_sl_8bcsgtzs7t_b">Today’s Special</a>’ (Buy it if you don’t have it, it’s superb) He extolls the virtues of simply roasted onions. So I pinched that bit, slung some other stuff into the mix and came up with this dinner. It’s bloody lovely and pretty damn cheap. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><b>Thyme Roasted Onions, Kale, Mozzarella, Chilli & Lemon</b></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Serves 4</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>You’ll need – </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>For the onions-</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Knob of butter</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Splash of olive oil</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>12 Onions, skins on</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Some thyme sprigs</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Maldon Salt and Pepper</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>You’ll also Need-</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Bread, blitzed into rough crumbs</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Splash of olive oil</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>A bag of Kale</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Knob of butter</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>A ball of mozzarella, torn into rough pieces</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Zest of 1 lemon, finely chopped.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>1 Red Chilli, finely chopped.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Maldon Salt & Pepper</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Preheat the oven to 150C</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Cut the onions in half, through the root, leaving the skin on.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Heat the butter with the olive oil in a roasting tin or saute pan on the hob, and colour the onions in it, skin side up. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Season with salt and pepper, scatter with the thyme and bake in the oven until soft. 30-40 mins.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Meanwhile, heat a small frying pan with a splash of olive oil and fry off your breadcrumbs until golden and crisp. Season and put to one side.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>When the onions are just about done, wash your kale and leave to drain in a colander.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Heat the knob of butter in a large frying pan or wok, and throw in the kale, finely chopped garlic, salt and pepper.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Toss over a high heat for a few minutes until it starts to wilt. Take it off the heat.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Take the skin off your onions (it should just pull off easily) drizzle with a little olive oil and season.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Arrange your roasted onions in the centre of the plate, surrounded by the sautéed kale. Drape your artfully ripped mozzarella over the kale, sprinkled with chilli and lemon zest. Finally dust the whole thing with fried breadcrumbs for a bit of texture, and that’s that. Jobs a good ‘un.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>If you don’t fancy mozzarella, I reckon this would be nice with feta or ewes curd instead. </i> </span>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-18695445727087412262014-11-12T19:59:00.003+00:002014-11-12T19:59:53.108+00:00Rochelle Canteen - London<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj96e-zhwRm-OcgRwRt8u1gQwyqskwouncNfh8HSB5ggtBUEAn1PAo69Ez70O9i0PsW8ZYFrcG6D_p52wufMCXG98kWrO4Z4PHJwkiCP6KIqJHOFyBz3GBKD1ycSrROkCM66kAD4Z06S9Q_/s1600/DSC_0177.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj96e-zhwRm-OcgRwRt8u1gQwyqskwouncNfh8HSB5ggtBUEAn1PAo69Ez70O9i0PsW8ZYFrcG6D_p52wufMCXG98kWrO4Z4PHJwkiCP6KIqJHOFyBz3GBKD1ycSrROkCM66kAD4Z06S9Q_/s1600/DSC_0177.JPG" height="320" width="214" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yeah I know.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We’ve been here before and yes, I promised that I’d be around a lot more than I have. I tried, I really did, but I fucked up. I could offer you excuses, I could swear that things will be different this time and you might believe me, but who are we kidding? I might be around, I might not. I just don’t know. I just can’t stay away though…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So here I am.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like an illicit lover. I’ve sneaked back in to your life. Made love to you in the most erotic literary fashion by way of this Rochelle Canteen review and disappeared once more in to the grey, early morning light, leaving you sleeping soundly with a wistful smile and tousled hair, a rose on your pillow and a used condom lurking under the duvet, no doubt stuck to your leg. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s me!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ok. Enough of that. Rochelle Canteen….</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As you are probably aware, I’m a massive fan of all things St John and Fergus Henderson. I love the British’ness of it, the simple, seasonal, ingredient led menus, the spartan plating and the near fanatical obsession with using dismembered animal bits and bobs that are rarely seen on other restaurant menus. I even, God help me, have learned to like the odd cheeky Fernet Branca, Mr Henderson’s favourite booze, famously always on the speed rail behind the bar at St John.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Where am I going with this? Well, Rochelle Canteen is part of the St John family, literally in fact. It’s owned and run by Margot Henderson, Fergus’s wife and her business partner, Melanie Arnold. It’s just behind Shoreditch High Street, on Arnold Circus in an old Victorian School, and this is where I found myself, in the pissing of rain last Monday lunchtime.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So far, so good. Except it wasn’t.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl7r3Awr6wj8S04jmQK5SH4ed4yUO8w12jMf0ZA4MJKY_3TipYrBvHfEdSfvUnnvN9QLp77WOMj1lGa9aD5rJNSY8yCIBz1MnPdEpHJAFH-gq9gikN7FLXGvKpiC2dK3dClZJ1PwJy5PrY/s1600/DSC_0168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl7r3Awr6wj8S04jmQK5SH4ed4yUO8w12jMf0ZA4MJKY_3TipYrBvHfEdSfvUnnvN9QLp77WOMj1lGa9aD5rJNSY8yCIBz1MnPdEpHJAFH-gq9gikN7FLXGvKpiC2dK3dClZJ1PwJy5PrY/s320/DSC_0168.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Considering that I knew exactly where Rochelle Canteen is located, you’d think access would be just a mere formality. Well, it would be if you could find the correct door with the intercom button labelled ‘Rochelle Canteen’. I wandered around in a torrential downpour for ten minutes, circling the entire school wall before finally happening upon the entrance. To save you suffering the same rain soaked indignity and frustration, I have thoughtfully included pictures of the doorway in question and the intercom button where finger pressure is required. Consider yourself forewarned.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimu6tUqbyLnA2YLCflZxFwmUIuz3hhQjSrG298ahmeKEUtEtDIrXOFi5t35wt3_z3KqjvqYyFitWtT8J4LYA0SPf4ON1rpIifHvUghu-GSa4-v12zrpUM19T2-az2H9RCiwQgRz3_FHK01/s1600/DSC_0158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimu6tUqbyLnA2YLCflZxFwmUIuz3hhQjSrG298ahmeKEUtEtDIrXOFi5t35wt3_z3KqjvqYyFitWtT8J4LYA0SPf4ON1rpIifHvUghu-GSa4-v12zrpUM19T2-az2H9RCiwQgRz3_FHK01/s320/DSC_0158.JPG" width="214" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, I finally made it into the courtyard and wandered across to the small, glass walled outbuilding that houses the canteen and slid open the door.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Inside, as you’d expect it’s very white, very bare looking and judging by the lunchtime crowd, very Shoreditch, which is hardly surprising given the location. There’s a counter with a well-equipped open kitchen to the left and some communal seating in a dining area.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I normally research my restaurant eating and drinking options meticulously before I even book, but this time I had somehow dropped a massive bollock. I was absolutely flabbergasted when the server told me Rochelle Canteen doesn’t sell alcohol. It turns out it’s BYO with £5 corkage. Taking a brief moment to repeatedly slap my own forehead violently, interspersed with shouting “stupid!” “STUPID!” I resigned myself to soft drinks and tap water. Yeah. Bastard.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Recovering my cool, I scanned the menu and was struck by two thoughts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1)<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It’s not frigging cheap</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2)<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I want to order everything.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is bad news. The worst possible combination. A menu perfect storm ensuring that I will probably leave devoid of any dignity, crawling towards the exit, uncomfortably full and being extremely vocal in my agonised groaning. At the same time, I’ll certainly be so utterly skint I’ll have to resort to selling my beautiful, taut, muscular young body to accumulate the train fare home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Damn you Rochelle Canteen! *fist shake*</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj71aj0mUaDqEwPX7uZgQ17HhJkbo0caI1i0Ea1IBHzLozsbKtIlZ48U9b0OSuOi3KSRALxU_aGyNwTQZ_Zjx2KzsWDSrCDv9qwEWnFUzz1QY8_CXZj76EdgtUzqDdSPEqflpPXOeLuM_MH/s1600/DSC_0097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj71aj0mUaDqEwPX7uZgQ17HhJkbo0caI1i0Ea1IBHzLozsbKtIlZ48U9b0OSuOi3KSRALxU_aGyNwTQZ_Zjx2KzsWDSrCDv9qwEWnFUzz1QY8_CXZj76EdgtUzqDdSPEqflpPXOeLuM_MH/s320/DSC_0097.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Taking into account that it was cold, grey and damp outside, conditions mirrored by me on a personal level after wandering around trying to find the entrance, I ordered duck broth with “Frittaten” (A herb pancake cut into ribbons and draped artfully in the soup). They’d run out of Duck, but they had chicken. Even better. I could think of nothing more comforting to someone in my bedraggled condition. Simple clean flavours, steaming hot and absolutely delicious. Like the peasant I am, I quickly progressed from mannered spoonful’s to dunking huge chunks of sourdough bread slathered with butter into the broth and from there into my gob and felt better and better with every slurp and bite.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I said ‘it’s not frigging cheap’ Chicken and leek pie, I’m looking at you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe I am really a peasant, maybe I no longer have any idea how much things cost in London, now that I live in Bristol and only return intermittently, but £16.50 for a pie, for one, with no other accompaniments at all seems, pardon my Francais; a bit fucking steep. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN7GhhRArM3sgUtBNGFzJIlfcGcKPIV54K3xFT1yVqgT3MMy_nm_MDUezkMHvPzE-LVDbtWz2gyR7DsAig_i3WS5s23dFFqS7PdmrmNm3c4TKO3tzI-ALIfIUAdtT_aZa1VKo-d8d0Mxqt/s1600/IMG_1443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN7GhhRArM3sgUtBNGFzJIlfcGcKPIV54K3xFT1yVqgT3MMy_nm_MDUezkMHvPzE-LVDbtWz2gyR7DsAig_i3WS5s23dFFqS7PdmrmNm3c4TKO3tzI-ALIfIUAdtT_aZa1VKo-d8d0Mxqt/s320/IMG_1443.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To make matters somehow worse, I can’t deny it was absolutely bloody gorgeous. Beautiful pastry, albeit a bit rustic looking, filled solid with bits of chicken and leek.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKyE__BJyrIBj1-VQAtxB0Qf7lt-xAnRncWz_XKnUkXLWEtQ3AFXDODcr6J4K6ptDDFx1L6Oa0m-dYmx0KwhXTyah9X7Dr70HxF_gm7qP1Vxxg3x7vIHY46Mn1BKndSqfwWu7YU5XxnEaL/s1600/DSC_0112.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKyE__BJyrIBj1-VQAtxB0Qf7lt-xAnRncWz_XKnUkXLWEtQ3AFXDODcr6J4K6ptDDFx1L6Oa0m-dYmx0KwhXTyah9X7Dr70HxF_gm7qP1Vxxg3x7vIHY46Mn1BKndSqfwWu7YU5XxnEaL/s320/DSC_0112.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To round things out a bit and also because I’m a notoriously greedy bastard, I complemented my solitary sixteen and a half quid delicious pie with a bowl of roasted new potatoes, carrots and garlic. All nice enough.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Simple things are often the best, typified perfectly by a slice of ginger loaf with vanilla ice-cream and butterscotch sauce. I demolished the lot and smiled broadly between every mouthful.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After gawping and at the bill, I walked back out into a soggy London afternoon, significantly lighter of pocket but happy, full-up and generally pretty pleased with lunch; so I reckon it was worth it then. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I liked Rochelle Canteen a lot. Yes it’s a bit on the steep side, but there’s a beautiful almost rustic simplicity to the food. It’s like a far less formal version of St John, similar in outlook (unsurprisingly) but much less restaurant and more like eating around a friend’s house who happens to be an amazing cook. There’s no frippery, no fancy plating, just solid cooking with excellent ingredients and sometimes that’s all you want. I found it refreshing and pretty damn comforting. If you can actually find the bloody entrance, you should go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><b>Rochelle Canteen</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Rochelle School</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Arnold Circus</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>E2 7ES</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Telephone: 020 7729 5677</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.arnoldandhenderson.com/"><i>www.arnoldandhenderson.com</i></a></span></div>
Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-23146802973978229362014-08-27T21:00:00.000+01:002014-08-27T21:00:14.563+01:00Chicken, Butter Bean and Tarragon Soup<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPHBTFcEouOoR7miJ6LUbE7_fzIH_y-GEJ-P2ec2vkEpHaJthhXYidyj_zKuebs1DEoWnz4TfvXFVFwURlk_L6MXscXuhytPldgh0BVQb8j2bigY39qJo7kZ2uq1QOU9SCF5X0yS4E31WN/s1600/IMG_1040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPHBTFcEouOoR7miJ6LUbE7_fzIH_y-GEJ-P2ec2vkEpHaJthhXYidyj_zKuebs1DEoWnz4TfvXFVFwURlk_L6MXscXuhytPldgh0BVQb8j2bigY39qJo7kZ2uq1QOU9SCF5X0yS4E31WN/s1600/IMG_1040.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s late August but perversely I'm thinking about soup for dinner. It’s been frigging horrible out there lately, it just hasn't stopped pissing down with rain and it’s cold with it. Anyone would think I lived in the UK and not a sun-kissed, palm-fringed Caribbean island *glances out of window and does a double take*. Shit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, the legend that is Nigel Slater had a cracking looking soup recipe in The Observer magazine a week or so ago, chicken, butter bean and tarragon, so I gave that a go and in case you didn't see it, I'm going to share it with you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This recipe ticks a number of boxes for me. Firstly I frigging love chicken soup, always have. Secondly, I also love butter beans, not sure why, I think it’s a textural thing, they feel smooth like a pebble but are soft and mashy when you bite into them, yeah I'm weird. Finally, guess what? I also love the aniseed whack of tarragon, especially with chicken. It’s like this recipe was made for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If that wasn't enough, there’s also a very ‘on trend’ element in the form of chicken crackling garnish. If you haven’t tried it yet, you've got to give it a go. Basically roasted, crispy chicken skin. It’s filthy, but lovely.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A note about chicken thighs – use them often! They’re dirt cheap, the meat actually tastes of something and if you’re shredding it up anyway, what difference does it make what part of the animal it came from. As usual, you should also be using lovely, happy free range chickens and not those grey, anaemic looking, extra value, 5 kilo tubs of sad, assorted chook bits for £3 that are probably a jigsaw puzzle of a butchered tramp. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh and eat this with good crusty bread, slathered in butter if you’re feeling particularly carefree. If you’re in Bristol, Mark’s Bread baguettes are frigging perfect. I love them. Anyway. That recipe….</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u><i>Chicken Butter Bean and Tarragon Soup</i></u></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Serves 4</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>3 large onions</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>30g butter</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>A little olive oil</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>2x 400g tins butter beans</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>1 litre chicken stock (if you have homemade use it, if not the gel pots will do).</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>4 large chicken thighs, with skin, on the bone</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>5-6 sprigs of parsley</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>6 sprigs tarragon</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Peel and roughly chop the onions. Melt the butter in a saucepan with a splash of olive oil. Throw in the chopped onions and cook over a low heat for 15 minutes.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Drain the tins of butter beans and stir them into the onions along with the stock. Bring to the boil.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Remove the skin from the chicken thighs and put to one side for later. Sling the now skinless thighs into the stock then lower the heat and let the whole lot gently simmer for 40 minutes.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>While you’re waiting, stretch the chicken skins flat on a foil covered baking tray. Season with salt and pepper. Stick into a low oven (150C) until crisp and golden (Nigel reckons 15-20 mins, but it took a fair bit longer in my oven, more like half hour). When done, set aside on kitchen towel.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Remove the chicken thighs from the soup. Pick all the meat from the bones and tear into large pieces. Chop the tarragon and parsley, then in a small mixing bowl, gently stir it through the chicken with a little salt and pepper until it’s coated in herbs.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Using an electric blender, blitz about half the soup to a creamy puree (Or all of it, if you like your soup non-chunky). Divide between four bowls. Add a heap of herby chicken thigh and a piece of chicken crackling balanced on top. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Get slurping.</span>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-7282865485065458962014-07-28T18:48:00.001+01:002014-07-28T18:48:54.843+01:00Bobby beans with garlic and crème fraiche<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFC4mebWrEMbQrosImaMt-VUjehZhdDJPxu4YB7kqVHLCe9Y3Cm6PG95KSNWFlrGPb8o0uMXlgMraQtAv07Elo1ZZZXEIRrMtBAsH1f2d8xd8vr63w2tKaEvNJyyt5f8U1imsPgYjoU4E1/s1600/DSC_0023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFC4mebWrEMbQrosImaMt-VUjehZhdDJPxu4YB7kqVHLCe9Y3Cm6PG95KSNWFlrGPb8o0uMXlgMraQtAv07Elo1ZZZXEIRrMtBAsH1f2d8xd8vr63w2tKaEvNJyyt5f8U1imsPgYjoU4E1/s1600/DSC_0023.JPG" height="214" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hello beloved readers. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm back!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, I could furnish you all with a multitude of excuses of why I haven’t updated the blog for a little while, but you don’t want to hear that load of pathetic old cobblers, you want frigging RESULTS and I understand that, I really do. So here I am, delivering STUFF for you to cast your critical eye over.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bearing that in mind and without further ado, get your eyeballs around this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've kind of been lacking inspiration recently. Don’t get me wrong, I cook all the time. It’s even what I do for a living at my day job, and I'm always eating out in restaurants. Food is pretty much my <i>raison d'être</i> (check me and my posh words out!), but something has just felt like it was missing. It’s hard to define or pin down but I just haven’t felt particularly excited about anything much lately, but that all changed last week.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I happened to pick up a copy of <i>Caroline Conran’s, <a href="https://prospectbooks.co.uk/books/978-1-903018-90-3">Sud de France – The food and cooking of Languedoc</a></i>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is hard to describe but flicking through I gradually felt the clouds lifting and was somehow instantly rejuvenated in a culinary sense. I'm not entirely sure how or why, I just realised that I wanted to cook all of it and couldn't wait to get started. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now I know you’re probably thinking-</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>‘What a load of bollocks Dan, you probably ate some dodgy prawns or sumfink and the effects happened to wear off as you read that book ’</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But it’s true I tell you. I have been INSPIRED.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seriously, It’s an absolutely fantastic book. Every single recipe is introduced with anecdotes that beautifully sketch out intriguing glimpses of everyday life, eating and cooking in the Languedoc region of France. The recipes themselves are refreshingly exact, to the point and most importantly, they work (a prerequisite of a recipe book you might think, but it’s surprising how many books fall at that particular hurdle).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are no photos of the food, just the authors own drawings and I love that. You’re free to interpret how the food should look on the plate and you’re forced to use your imagination and work a little bit, which feels somehow very right. It also helps, dare I say it, to make it all feel very reminiscent of Elizabeth David and that is definitely a compliment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, it’s a truly lovely book. <a href="https://prospectbooks.co.uk/books/978-1-903018-90-3" target="_blank">Buy it</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There’s one recipe in particular I absolutely love. It’s really simple, almost ridiculously so, but It just blew me away. French beans with garlic – Haricots verts a l’ail.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I cooked this recipe using bobby beans (an English variant of green beans that are in season, right now) and used Neal’s Yard Dairy’s rather amazing crème fraiche (if you've never tried it, I urge you to give it a go, it’s the best crème fraiche I've ever tasted – if you’re in Bristol, they stock it in Source at St Nicholas Market).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I served it with the Chicken with sherry vinegar and tomato recipe from the same book (also superb). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u><i>Bobby beans with garlic and crème fraiche</i></u></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Serves 4</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>You’ll need-</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i> </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>500g Bobby beans, topped and tailed </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>150ml Crème Fraiche</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>1 plump clove garlic, finely chopped</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Salt, pepper.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Bring a large pan of salted water to the boil. Throw in the beans and let them cook for 8 minutes.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- I’d normally cook fine beans for 3 minutes, al dente, but stick with it, the author explains that she thinks the beans don’t develop their flavour if they are eaten too crisp and raw. Based on the results, for this particular recipe, I think I agree.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Meanwhile simmer the garlic in the crème fraiche in a small non-stick pan for about 5 minutes, until the garlic starts to smell fragrant.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Drain the beans thoroughly, toss them in the cream and garlic mixture.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Season with pepper and salt if necessary.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And that’s it. Simple and bloody amazing!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yeah, I’ll say it again… <a href="https://prospectbooks.co.uk/books/978-1-903018-90-3" target="_blank">buy</a> this book.</span>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-74954039501214306852014-05-30T22:26:00.000+01:002014-05-31T10:09:42.539+01:00Lyle's - London<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Contained within a note on my phone is an ever expanding list of restaurants I want to eat at. The majority of them in London. So every time I’m back in the capital, even if I’m just passing through, I always hit somewhere new for lunch or dinner or sometimes both, often with some grazing in-between. Don’t be shocked. I think it’s been well established over the years what a spectacularly greedy bastard I am.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I was back in London last week, for the first time in frigging ages. I decided to have lunch at Lyle’s in Shoreditch. Running the kitchen is Chef James Lowe. Formerly of the Young Turks; a trio of chefs, who, after impressing London collaboratively a few years back, have all gone on to rather awesome things. Upstairs at the Ten Bells and The Clove Club to name but two. Seeing as I absolutely bloody love both of these, my expectations were pretty high.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But first, the simple task of actually finding the restaurant. I’m a pretty punctual guy, I arrived in Shoreditch with plenty of time to spare. I was looking hip and feeling rather louche, as befits the general vibe of the area. The map application on my phone was telling me that Lyle’s was just there, but could I bloody see it? Pizza East, yes. Hipster central, Shoreditch House, yeah, restaurant I have a lunch reservation at? No. I walked up and down the street, increasingly confused and flustered, whilst my own wafer thin veneer of hip was seemingly melting away like a badly applied coat of cheap spray tan.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the end, I walked into a warehouse office space and asked the receptionist if she knew where Lyle’s was. Barely containing the urge to pull an imbecilic ‘Duh’ expression at me, she simply pointed behind me and to the left. I’d walked straight past it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On time, just and presenting myself at the front desk of Lyle’s, I was again thrown out of kilter by the aloof manner of the girl manning the reservation laptop. I know it’s cool Shoreditch, dahling and it’s the latest shit-hot restaurant and all that, but would it have killed her to crack a smile and try and appear friendly? Surely it’s a prerequisite of meeting and greeting to flash those pearly whites and actually make the customer feel, I don’t know….welcome?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ignoring the bad start and determined to enjoy my lunch, I was shown to my table and immediately things improved. My waiter was friendly, cheerful, professional and knowledgeable as he talked me through the menu. Aaaaand relax.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The restaurant space itself feels very large, light and airy as you’d expect from a former tea warehouse, it actually reminds me of the industrial type space you initially walk into at St John in Clerkenwell, which strangely brings me onto the food.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">James Lowe has previously worked at St John and it shows. Something of the Fergus Henderson’s influence is seemingly ingrained in every chef who has worked in one of his kitchens. The menu, the ingredients, the plating style, the look of the restaurant, you can just see it and it’s a very good thing. I say this because I ate at new Bristol restaurant, Birch a few days previous to this, and the chef, Sam Leach is formerly of the St John Hotel, his menu, his food, the ingredients that he’s using and even the Spartan look of his restaurant are in some ways similar to Lyle’s, which in turn is somehow reminiscent of St John. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Given that connection, as you’d expect, the menu at Lyles is very British and extremely seasonal. I wanted to order the whole frigging lot from the selection of small plates, but restrained myself to just two.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Asparagus and walnut mayonnaise, very simple but beautifully done. I absolutely love asparagus and can’t get enough when it’s in season, but I really ordered this because I was intrigued by the pairing with a walnut mayonnaise, something which is entirely new to me. It was delicious and worked really well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The highlight of my lunch and another early contender for the best thing I’ve put in my mouth all year (snigger), Lamb’s sweetbreads, ramson and lettuce. Beautiful to look at, incredible to eat. This was by far the best plate of sweetbreads I ever eaten, anywhere. They were massive, cooked just right and tasted superb with the wild garlic and lettuce. Truly lovely.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Resisting the urge to order another plate of sweetbreads, I continued stuffing myself with meat, moving onto a full sized plate of food. Saddleback, land cress and anchovy. Very simple and St John’esque in appearance. A beautifully cooked piece of pork, paired unusually with an intense anchovy sauce. It was delicious.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At this point, I should mention the excellent bread and butter seeing as I wolfed down two plates of it and while I’m at it, I should also mention the wine, recommended to me by one of the Lyle’s sommelier’s via Twitter (she wasn’t working the lunch shift), Cotes du Jura ‘La Pierre’, 2011, Les Granges de Quatre Sous. It was totally banging. Superb at £7 a glass.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally, dessert. Having eaten a rather nice treacle tart at ‘Birch’ a couple of days before, I decided to forgo that option on the menu (those similarities again) Instead I went for Rhubarb and Custard. Consisting of a cold, whipped custard heaped on top of beautiful rhubarb, lightly poached and a quenelle of rhubarb sorbet. It was cracking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, I loved Lyle’s. Ignoring the initial rather brusque greeting, I thought the service fantastic and the food beautiful in it’s simplicity. Similar to the grub at St John, but pimped. The lamb sweetbread dish was one of the best things I've ever eaten and I harbour some disappointment that I didn’t manage to eat my way through the entire menu. All in all, I had a stonking lunch. I’ll definitely be going back for more.</span><br />
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<i><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lyle’s</span></b></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tea Building</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">56 Shoreditch High Street</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">London</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">E1 6JJ</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Telephone: 0203 011 5911</span></i><br />
<a href="http://www.lyleslondon.com/"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">http://www.lyleslondon.com</span></i></a>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-65439773386592642902014-05-28T19:06:00.001+01:002014-05-28T19:06:27.130+01:00Birch - Bristol<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I first met Sam and Becky not long after I moved to Bristol. I’d gone along to their supper club and was so taken with what they were doing, it actually inspired me and my ex-partner, Elly to start our own supper club, The Basement, which we ran for two years. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Apart from Sam and Becky’s food, which was excellent, what impressed me most whenever I talked to them was their almost single-minded dedication to someday owning and running their own restaurant. They obviously really wanted it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Determined to learn as much as they could, and make it happen, Sam did some training as a butcher and then as a baker, before undertaking a career as a chef whilst Becky worked as a waitress in a couple of cracking Bristol restaurants, Culinaria and Flinty Red. A couple of years ago, they both moved to London and worked in some seriously good places, Sam at the St John Hotel and 40 Maltby Street, Becky at Hawksmoor and the Quality Chop House, before recently moving back to Bristol, having learnt loads and still determined to open their own place.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I ran into Sam a few months back and he told me he’d found a site, South of the river, over near the Tobacco Factory and that he and Becky were doing the majority of the building work and fitting out themselves.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That was then, this is now and wouldn't you know, all that work and determination has finally paid off. Sam and Becky opened their own restaurant, Birch last week and I'm seriously frigging delighted to say that it’s superb.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wouldn't normally write a review based on a soft opening, it’s not really fair on the restaurant to judge them while they’re ironing out a myriad of unforeseen opening weekend problems, but the crew at Birch absolutely nailed it, hit the ground running and didn't put a foot wrong, so here it is.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Located on the corner of Rayleigh and Birch Roads (hence the name) and just down the street from The Tobacco Factory, it’s a little off the beaten track. It’s a real neighbourhood restaurant location, but is so bloody good it should be drawing people in from all over the city and beyond.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The interior is very plain, very white, with a small bar at the back and 50’s style Formica topped tables. Massive windows on both sides of the dining room, flood the space with light. It all feels a bit Scandinavia via Hackney, which is no bad thing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The menu however is rooted very much in Britain with excellent local, seasonal produce featuring heavily. Except that Sam and Becky have taken it a step further and have secured an allotment space where they’re growing their own fruit and vegetables for the restaurant.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The food itself is, unsurprisingly given Sam’s background, very much recognisable in the style of St John. Fergus Henderson’s very British, unfussy manner rubs off heavily on anyone who has served time in one of his kitchens (I ate at Lyle’s in Shoreditch a couple of days later and the influence is obvious there too). However, Sam’s food is much less Spartan with more of a flourish and I like that. The food at St John is undoubtedly excellent but can be pretty uncompromising to look at. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With a trio of nibbles, three starters, three mains, a small selection of ices, puddings and a local cheese, the menu is perfectly formed, short and concise.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kicking the meal off with a bone dry Manzanilla sherry I picked at an assortment of snacks, excellent anchovy biscuits which were deliciously salty with just a subtle fishy hit on the finish. Fresh radishes with a herb mayonnaise, a particular favourite of mine and devilled almonds, perfectly complimenting the sherry although I reckoned these needed a bit more of a pokey chilli whack. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have to mention the bread and the butter, both made by Sam at the restaurant and both bloody lovely. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A starter of duck and pork pie, chicory, hazelnut and mustard salad however was absolutely faultless. Perfect pastry, encasing quivering redcurrant jelly surrounding an offal tinged slab of duck and pork. Holy Moly, it was seriously good.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My mate, Jemma meanwhile was scoffing a plate of asparagus, hot butter and crumbs, which by all accounts was every bit as good as it sounds. I didn't get a picture, you’ll just have to imagine what that looked like.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE5WiIV2yGbsgN2X270YKg_Fim2GnEczg1HzgGMCzqhu9gM0hvIZOCYhdvVNPdvMisioXzWOc16Igfexob91PKqk0PyDXFwImi1CA1KBFYaWIy3kkWgcI130P77fsBBgUGwcRMfJ2XGqvi/s1600/IMG_0179.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE5WiIV2yGbsgN2X270YKg_Fim2GnEczg1HzgGMCzqhu9gM0hvIZOCYhdvVNPdvMisioXzWOc16Igfexob91PKqk0PyDXFwImi1CA1KBFYaWIy3kkWgcI130P77fsBBgUGwcRMfJ2XGqvi/s1600/IMG_0179.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the end of the year, when I'm mulling over meals past, I strongly suspect that my next course of roast hogget leg, mash, chard and anchovy sauce will easily rank up there as one of the best things I ate all year. The lamb was so beautifully cooked, solid slabs of dusky pink meat surrounded by a dark burnished crust, I was certain it must have been cooked sous-vide (I was wrong, it was roasted in a low oven). Combined with the umami punch of the anchovy sauce, perfect mash (I'm a mash fiend, believe me when I say it was perfect) and colourful buttery chard, the whole thing was pretty near as dammit perfect as its possible to be and absolutely beautiful to look at.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYLRQWPh23Vat29rWlKCkCu6m2ibKDdZsAlPqZTM_Yh5LlJysLm5BhfsckSjvUh2jATKw8sjJGXPXCIBTGLX7QdI5TgAPLr2w6zjMaqFn9OfrjgzoyvhXofCKh5ViPX9lLBgDMdVCsGSVi/s1600/IMG_0178.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYLRQWPh23Vat29rWlKCkCu6m2ibKDdZsAlPqZTM_Yh5LlJysLm5BhfsckSjvUh2jATKw8sjJGXPXCIBTGLX7QdI5TgAPLr2w6zjMaqFn9OfrjgzoyvhXofCKh5ViPX9lLBgDMdVCsGSVi/s1600/IMG_0178.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Across the table, Jemma was feeling similarly emosh about her plate of hake, brown crab, Cornish new potatoes and spring onions. I cadged a sneaky forkful and yep, it was as lovely as it looked.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On a roll and taking no prisoners, I demolished a scoop of marmalade and whisky ice cream, which had a suitably satisfying whack of both ingredients. Lovely.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj54umuAnL9CFK_hHlGX2Q6a9J247Sooqxcyss9PfxQPvq3WMS6P7Zk5xEev1-noQ5OSdhNdufW1aHGmML7EyCDo-P5Q5RQPRHC8ZbVMbf9EYCIUuBDpSEDDFovKtAeFBHlyIfc3Gnuioxc/s1600/DSC_0053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj54umuAnL9CFK_hHlGX2Q6a9J247Sooqxcyss9PfxQPvq3WMS6P7Zk5xEev1-noQ5OSdhNdufW1aHGmML7EyCDo-P5Q5RQPRHC8ZbVMbf9EYCIUuBDpSEDDFovKtAeFBHlyIfc3Gnuioxc/s1600/DSC_0053.JPG" height="214" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I then moved onto a rather nice treacle tart with clotted cream before finishing off with a plate of Bath Soft cheese and crackers whilst my friend Jemma looked on aghast at the gout taunting gluttonous display of excess, playing out opposite.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When people ask where they should eat in Bristol, there’s just three places I always recommend. My personal favourites, Bell’s Diner, Wallfish and Flinty Red. After this meal, I'm going to add a fourth, Birch. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s that good. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sam is a superb chef, he obviously adores what he’s doing, his food is frigging excellent, both he and Becky have worked really hard to achieve their dream and that passion, that drive and that love for what they’re doing shines through.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Go and enjoy it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Birch</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>47 Raleigh Road, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Southville</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Bristol</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>BS3 1QS</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Telephone: 01179 028 326</i></span><br />
<a href="http://birchbristol.co/"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>http://birchbristol.co</i></span></a><br />
<br />Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-49073995162504981672014-04-29T17:55:00.000+01:002014-04-29T17:55:34.317+01:00Slow cooked cauliflower in yoghurt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFRBxbLjn_J9yxmmi-Sj6e8I4Mo-rk-IUy4BWHjk6uc39pnksvTSasEptbXb7l_O98ZBVYQ6DWIyZh7lrfkcUef3yLdkx9tLjvvVk52w7sp7XVdzFCvpvHXNpeP2MJCJl5nhHE2D-Psi3/s1600/DSC_0007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFRBxbLjn_J9yxmmi-Sj6e8I4Mo-rk-IUy4BWHjk6uc39pnksvTSasEptbXb7l_O98ZBVYQ6DWIyZh7lrfkcUef3yLdkx9tLjvvVk52w7sp7XVdzFCvpvHXNpeP2MJCJl5nhHE2D-Psi3/s1600/DSC_0007.JPG" height="214" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have certain dishes in favourite restaurants that are so bloody good, no matter what else is on the menu, I’ll always manage to find room to squeeze a cheeky one in somewhere. The slow cooked cauliflower in yoghurt at my favourite Bristol restaurant, <a href="http://essexeating.blogspot.co.uk/2013/05/bells-diner-bar-rooms-bristol.html" target="_blank">Bell’s Diner</a> is a cracking example.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cauliflower, cooked down until almost creamy, then subtly spiced with coriander, cumin, garlic and chilli with a lovely tangy acidity from the yoghurt. Oh yeah. It’s phenomenal. Chef, <a href="https://twitter.com/Sam_Sohn" target="_blank">Sam Sohn-Rethel</a>, who very generously allowed me to reproduce his recipe here, based this dish on a cauliflower soup he used to cook during his time at Moro.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the restaurant, it’s served as a tapas size portion, but I'm something of a lazy bastard and wanted to stretch it out for dinner, so dished it up, heaped on chargrilled sourdough. Lovely. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGp4fLqVqbooy408vdJIaO9Oo86g8xQrJECH3MT5mh4gsRt3AtZk462QjCi3_JIPMqgRC3FUGf08SKO7gx1tVYmWRpnvut64EvBXxnN-eFg2PJU4Zu_Kkj6jq1qKKfu2CEOHzpoEpKS-EN/s1600/DSC_0003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGp4fLqVqbooy408vdJIaO9Oo86g8xQrJECH3MT5mh4gsRt3AtZk462QjCi3_JIPMqgRC3FUGf08SKO7gx1tVYmWRpnvut64EvBXxnN-eFg2PJU4Zu_Kkj6jq1qKKfu2CEOHzpoEpKS-EN/s1600/DSC_0003.JPG" height="214" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Slow cooked cauliflower with yoghurt</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Serves 4</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You’ll need:-</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">150g butter</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1 onion, diced</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1 clove garlic, chopped</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1 tsp cumin seeds, crushed</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1 tsp coriander seeds, crushed</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1 tsp mild chilli flakes</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1 cauliflower, stalk and tough outer leaves removed</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1 handful coriander leaves</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1 egg yolk</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">½ tsp cornflour</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">500ml Greek yoghurt</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Heat 100g of the butter in a saucepan and cook the onion until translucent.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Add the garlic, cumin, coriander seeds and chilli and cook for another five minutes.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finely chop the cauliflower along with the tender inner leaves, add them to the pan and season with plenty of salt.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finely chop 2/3rds of the coriander leaves and stir into the cauliflower.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cover the pan with a tight fitting lid and continue cooking over a gentle heat until the cauliflower is completely soft and cooked down to a mush.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Beat together the egg yolk, cornflower and yoghurt then add the mixture to the pan and cook for five more minutes. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Check the seasoning and add more salt if needed. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Keep warm until ready to serve. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Heat the remaining 50g of butter in a small pan until it caramelises, as dark brown as you dare. Then pour it over the cauliflower.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Scatter over the remaining coriander leaves and serve.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Toasted breadcrumbs are a nice optional addition for a bit of texture</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks again to Sam for allowing me use his recipe on the blog. I'm hoping to be able to wheedle/cajole/threaten/beg/blackmail recipes for a few more of my favourite dishes out of my regular restaurant haunts very soon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Watch this space, people. </span></div>
Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-42285038280556793622014-04-21T17:59:00.000+01:002014-04-21T17:59:01.821+01:00Roast coconut and ginger parsnips<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT6yMD86Yv5M4jtHvIk7jw8ouQFl4V1IY1ncFPKwj_XqA9hdRaaU58QcfTOSM_inwdRtjuz2TD6lSWJDx7oq-BmA2Qfd1zfT03QOylbXZUJ4HiQSD5r9WnrUbqLgunUgZPdhyphenhyphenhesBAgScV/s1600/DSC_0003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT6yMD86Yv5M4jtHvIk7jw8ouQFl4V1IY1ncFPKwj_XqA9hdRaaU58QcfTOSM_inwdRtjuz2TD6lSWJDx7oq-BmA2Qfd1zfT03QOylbXZUJ4HiQSD5r9WnrUbqLgunUgZPdhyphenhyphenhesBAgScV/s1600/DSC_0003.JPG" height="214" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Moving several steps upward from the dubious delights of an après booze kebab, I recently ended up drunkenly dining in the second floor restaurant at Harvey Nichols, after something of a sprawling evening guzzling muchos alcohol.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The meal was fine, what I can remember of it, but one dish in particular caught my constantly shifting, blurred focus. From the sides section of the menu, roasted coconut and ginger parsnips. Now, normally I’d say don’t f*ck with my parsnips, but my guard was down, I was drunk and I ordered them. Surprisingly (for me) the coconut, ginger and lime worked really well with the sweetness of the parsnips, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">they were absolutely frigging delicious.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Happily, my pal, Jemma, had enough wits about her to ask for the recipe and received a scribbled note from the kitchen giving just enough instruction that, when combined with a quick internet search for similar recipes allowed me to reproduce more or less the same dish in my own kitchen. Oh yeah.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You need the creamed coconut that comes in a block for this, not a tin of coconut milk, which you will be unable to grate *slaps forehead*</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i><u>Roast coconut and ginger parsnips</u></i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>You’ll need:-</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>5 parsnips, peeled</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>40g creamed coconut</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>5cm piece fresh ginger, finely chopped</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>2 green chillies, finely chopped</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Grated zest ½ lime</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Vegetable oil for roasting</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Heat the oven to 190C</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Quarter or half the parsnips (depending on size) and cook in boiling, salted water for 5 minutes, then drain.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Grate the creamed coconut into a bowl, add the ginger, chillies and a pinch of salt and pepper.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Add 2-3 tablespoons of hot water and stir together until you have a paste.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>It’ll probably be a bit clumpy so blitz it in a blender if you think it needs it. Finally stir in the lime zest.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Heat the vegetable oil in a roasting tray for 5 mins or so.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Toss the parsnips in the coconut paste, and then transfer to the smoking hot roasting tray.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Roast the parsnips for 30-40 mins until they’re browned and crisped up. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>If after 30 mins or so, they’re looking a bit anaemic still, flash them under the grill to brown them off. </i></span>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-29044523177624083352014-04-13T15:02:00.001+01:002014-04-13T19:04:03.937+01:00Sauce Verte<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBI7Nx6ky8Sd0vOUYG0iTtZAAdU6VujhT0EOchOkk5sX9Jh4NhBVDsVSNdyzAf4JMiU_0UBv99KqubXjIutHxjskFmSiysPWSN7K48IWMBPYxdLJiJo3i9gckHLjAFTcxgvT6atvlj_8Pk/s1600/DSC_0329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBI7Nx6ky8Sd0vOUYG0iTtZAAdU6VujhT0EOchOkk5sX9Jh4NhBVDsVSNdyzAf4JMiU_0UBv99KqubXjIutHxjskFmSiysPWSN7K48IWMBPYxdLJiJo3i9gckHLjAFTcxgvT6atvlj_8Pk/s1600/DSC_0329.JPG" height="214" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Before I get started celebrating the virtues of my new
favourite sauce, I feel that some small measure of profuse apology is in order.
Regular readers may have noticed a recent lack of updates to the blog of late.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Although
no doubt, general cause for celebration amongst the masses, I also believe that
there are a handful of misguided individuals out there that have felt genuine loss
at my lack of output. To these unhappy few, I’m sorry for leaving a gaping ‘Essex
Eating’ shaped void in your lives and promise never to leave you devoid of my
dubious pleasures again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Basically, I’ve been notably less than prolific for a number
of reasons. There was the upheaval of moving home, then the seemingly interminable
ballache of getting broadband installed (this still hasn’t happened, I’m
writing this in a local café) Oh and finally a hefty dose of good old writers
block. I’ve still been eating out in restaurants, cooking and drinking enough
for a whole crowd of gluttons, but just couldn’t find that spark within me to
write about it. I’ve no idea why, I probably caught it off a toilet seat,
honest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, that was then, this is now. I’m back in the saddle. Leaner,
fitter, hungrier and mungously brainier. So, turn those frowns upside down,
organise a parade, drink a pint of gin or two in celebration (Plymouth
obviously) and let the good times roll, you lucky bastardos.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, Sauce Verte. The French green sauce. I’ve recently
discovered this via the venerable Simon Hopkinson, basically aioli pimped with seemingly every herb in existence. The combination of garlic, lemon and fresh
herbs is superb. It goes particularly well with fish, but is also pretty damn
nice with boiled potatoes and chargrilled vegetables, such as asparagus.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First, make your aioli base.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>You’ll need:-</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>2 egg yolks<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>1 garlic clove, peeled and crushed<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Salt & Pepper<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>300-450ml Olive Oil</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Although I find just using just olive
oil too rasping and peppery, as well as frigging expensive, so cut it with
vegetable oil in whatever proportions your budget and taste deems appropriate.
<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Juice of 1 Lemon<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You can make it with a whisk, but despite my obviously muscular
physique, I’m a notoriously lazy bastard so use a hand blender, in a tall beaker
that just fits over the tip of your err…blending rod, or whatever its called. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First make sure all the ingredients are at room temperature.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Beat the egg yolks with the garlic and a little salt, until
thick.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Add the oil, but just a trickle at a time. Too much and it’ll
split. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Add a little lemon juice, and then some more oil,
alternating a little at a time, incorporating it before adding more, patience
is key. Carry on till both are all used up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At some point, if the mayonnaise gods are smiling on you, it
will have come together and you’ll have a pot of luscious, thick gunk. If they’re
not, as is nearly always the case with me, you’ll have thin split mess. If this
is the case, don’t panic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Get another pot, with a couple of egg yolks. Start again,
this time carefully trickling your split mess into the egg yolks as you thrash
away with the blender or whisk. It should come right this time. If it doesn’t, sorry
but you are truly f*cked. Curse the gods of mayo. Tip it into the bin and accept
it isn’t your day and go buy a jar of Hellmans. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But of course, everything has gone right and you’re
marvelling at a quivering pot of homemade, garlic tinged mayonnaise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now to turn it into Sauce Verte. For this, you might
consider wearing a beret, but this step is entirely optional.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>You’ll need:-</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>A bunch of flat leaf parsley, leaves only<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>A bunch of watercress, leaves only</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>4 tarragon sprigs, leaves only</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>4 mint sprigs, leaves only</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>10 basil leaves</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>2 anchovy fillets</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bring a large pot of water to the boil, throw in the parsley
and watercress leaves, stir and drain. Rinse them with cold water and squeeze
dry in a tea towel. Chop them until extremely fine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then, in a frenzy of extremely fine chopping, get to work on
everything else and stir the lot into your mayonnaise base. Season carefully
and stir in a little extra lemon juice if you think it needs it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sauce Verte. Done.</span></div>
Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-23367688633294119352014-02-18T12:33:00.001+00:002015-01-27T10:05:20.042+00:00A guide to breakfast in Bristol - Updated 26th January 2015<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A leisurely breakfast, with good coffee and the papers has to be one of my favourite meals of the day, a real treat. Every time I get a day off, its what I crave. Quite often I’ll cook something for myself at home, but nothing really beats sitting in a busy, steamy café and letting someone else do all the work for a change.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Back when I was young and far less choosy, I’d hit the nearest greasy spoon, surrounded by high-vis attired customers, avidly flicking through the trashy tabloids and stuffing myself with gargantuan breakfasts where the only common theme linking all of the items on the plate would be cheapness. Piled high but ultimately tasting of sod all.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nowadays, I'm a much more sophisticated chap. I wouldn't touch The Sun with yours, preferring instead the broadsheets. As for my breakfast, the choice hasn't changed that much, a full English remains a lifelong favourite. What has changed though is that I'm prepared to pay a hell of a lot more for quality. No more garishly pink, cardboard tasting sausages packed full of eyelids, lips and arseholes for me, No. If my breakfast banger hasn't been lovingly hand reared on a Wiltshire farm and actually suckled at the teat of a farmer called Alan who’s own diet consists solely of locally sourced spring water and grass, then frankly, I'm not sticking it in my gob.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well. Not quite, but I am incredibly picky.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But where to find a good breakfast in Bristol? I hear your anguished cry. Hold tight, bacon lovers, I’ve taken the required hefty cholesterol whack for the team and have compiled a list of my favourites. I’ll update this list from time to time, should my heart hold out. But right now, you should be eating breakfast in these places…. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQRkocki1C-4IBcQylNgaVrX6vlS9THE4l2w9Ac-RhrcMQKgKOqSV1kvBnBaQHhb6ZVKmYLBW_IBFR_-o0iJCbvUvzbgptwIWalWMwxR-Ybteat9WMh4DBes47buvrmfIwSXU1TtsSS60/s1600/IMG_2022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQRkocki1C-4IBcQylNgaVrX6vlS9THE4l2w9Ac-RhrcMQKgKOqSV1kvBnBaQHhb6ZVKmYLBW_IBFR_-o0iJCbvUvzbgptwIWalWMwxR-Ybteat9WMh4DBes47buvrmfIwSXU1TtsSS60/s1600/IMG_2022.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Poco</u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I love the Moroccan style breakfast at Poco in Stokes Croft. Merguez sausage, harissa, creamy scrambled eggs on toasted sourdough. Hell yes. The restaurant is also perfectly sited to watch the infinitely varied comings and goings of The Croft as you munch away. Believe me, people watching doesn't get any better than this.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>45 Jamaica Street, Stokes Croft, BS2 8JP</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Telephone: 0117 923 2233</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><a href="http://www.tomsfeast.com/restaurants/poco-bristol">http://www.tomsfeast.com/restaurants/poco-bristol</a></i></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMpfc1EMWN1RskscvklBsw9TzS41gwKj1a9w2WiMGZi6z7u1BWVUD41rP1-HWfXqheWMq1AHlTgV7Ptrffvct9v43MfTda9FyB7FGrcbW1naLErbO5gi4Qu2slQrOUzx4W2kjbc0vnU1nW/s1600/Food+007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMpfc1EMWN1RskscvklBsw9TzS41gwKj1a9w2WiMGZi6z7u1BWVUD41rP1-HWfXqheWMq1AHlTgV7Ptrffvct9v43MfTda9FyB7FGrcbW1naLErbO5gi4Qu2slQrOUzx4W2kjbc0vnU1nW/s1600/Food+007.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Wallfish</u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They serve breakfast/brunch on Sunday from 10am-3pm and it's absolutely belting. Go here, have the full English, drink coffee, read the papers and give me a wave whilst I do the same. It’s my favourite breakfast haunt right now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>112 Princess Victoria Street, Clifton. BS8 4DB</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Telephone: 01179 735435</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><a href="http://www.wallfishbistro.co.uk/">http://www.wallfishbistro.co.uk</a></i></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfbh_uWyMQLTymuKw-5ySQXIETs0nG4jqPkHin69MaQASrOa9P04eUYCODUvYQvkibgzhyNdP-oRqU3V78ztJNpPhfUOqRZWUSiJ_dS4-R6Gg6ZKsj2dB7L-SPdx77Lrf1SHaeSChtzuP/s1600/IMG_2059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfbh_uWyMQLTymuKw-5ySQXIETs0nG4jqPkHin69MaQASrOa9P04eUYCODUvYQvkibgzhyNdP-oRqU3V78ztJNpPhfUOqRZWUSiJ_dS4-R6Gg6ZKsj2dB7L-SPdx77Lrf1SHaeSChtzuP/s1600/IMG_2059.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Workhouse Café</u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just down the road from the BRI, on the corner of St Michaels Hill, this steamy windowed café serves breakfast Mon-Fri 8-11 and all day on Saturday. Its fast becoming my favourite midweek go to. Laura Hart’s sourdough toast, cracking coffee and a belting full English for £6.50 (I'm a particular fan of the sausages, almost certainly hand suckled by farmer Alan), they also serve porridge, if you’re feeling virtuous.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Perry Rd, Bristol, Avon BS1 5BG</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Telephone: 0117 329 0889</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><a href="http://www.workhousecafe.co.uk/">http://www.workhousecafe.co.uk</a></i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4gfyJw-ftTdapScnr9HCeOnL1eAEXFgMhLPHe5OU6KJrnH-Ww6l4bTOwoMR7pJMqbMfg35XOwaMUHc1MnUYe0KggZe85ci86N1k2UwE2Ut-na3eYLJ_FR3Sj7PgNBhWDZWCoQZEkfw7Gj/s1600/Food+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4gfyJw-ftTdapScnr9HCeOnL1eAEXFgMhLPHe5OU6KJrnH-Ww6l4bTOwoMR7pJMqbMfg35XOwaMUHc1MnUYe0KggZe85ci86N1k2UwE2Ut-na3eYLJ_FR3Sj7PgNBhWDZWCoQZEkfw7Gj/s1600/Food+004.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Soukitchen</u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Absolutely cracking modern Middle Eastern restaurant, just South of the river in Bedminster. On the weekend, their brunch menu (served 10am-3pm) includes shaksohuka, a middle eastern breakfast of poached eggs, tomatoes, peppers, onions and spices. Throw in some merguez sausage for an extra £1.50 and you’re laughing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>277 North Street, Bedminster, BS3 1JP</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Telephone 0117 966 6880</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><a href="http://www.soukitchen.co.uk/">http://www.soukitchen.co.uk</a></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Harts Bakery</u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">An excellent artisan bakery, located at Temple Meads in an archway underneath the station approach (very Hackney’esque), it’s a must visit for breakfast if you're travelling anywhere by train (or even if you're not) Ignore the abysmal chain offerings on the platforms and head here for Laura Hart's excellent coffee, superb cakes, pastries and bread (I'm a huge fan of the fennel and raisin variety). Open 7am-3pm, Tuesday to Saturday.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Arch 35 Lower Approach Road, Temple Meads. BS1 6QS</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><a href="http://www.hartsbakery.co.uk/">http://www.hartsbakery.co.uk</a></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Bakers and Co.</u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A new addition to my breakfast listing, and what a belter it is. Located on Gloucester Road and serving excellent food inspired by the San Francisco cafe scene, this buzzing little cafe is fast becoming one of my regular morning go to's. I'm a greedy bastard, so I most often go for the more traditional 'Baker's breakfast', but there are some other excellent, really interesting choices on the menu. No reservations taken, so just turn up and squeeze in.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">193 Gloucester Road. BS7 8BG</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://bakersbristol.co.uk/">http://bakersbristol.co.uk</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Pear Café</u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seeing as this tiny Stokes Croft café is owned by my ex girlfriend, I may be accused of favouritism by adding it to this list, but I’ve eaten far too many sausage sandwiches there, of my own volition to happily refute any such claims. Takeaway only, really (there is a small table inside for two) and open from 8am, serving toast, coffee, tea, sausage sandwiches and absolutely superb flapjacks (beautiful buttery, syrupy, filth).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Unit 1, The Coach House, 2 Upper York Street. BS2 8QN</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Telephone: 0117 942 8392</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><a href="http://www.thepearcafe.com/">http://www.thepearcafe.com</a></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If a slap up, full on breakfast is a bit much for you and you’re more in the mood for excellent coffee and maybe a cheeky pastry, then head to these places…</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Full Court Press</u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>59 Broad Street, Bristol, BS1 2EJ</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.fcpcoffee.com/"><i>http://www.fcpcoffee.com</i></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Small Street Espresso</u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Small Street, BS1 1DW</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><a href="http://www.smallstreetespresso.co.uk/">http://www.smallstreetespresso.co.uk</a> </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><b><u>Didn't You Do Well</u></b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>20 Park Row, BS1 5LJ</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, there you have my favourite Bristol breakfast joints. I don’t consider myself infallible (OK, maybe just a bit) but if you know somewhere I’ve missed or I just don’t know about, then let me know in the comments.</span>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-89859046534652820792014-01-31T18:04:00.003+00:002014-01-31T18:07:24.898+00:005 years of Essex Eating!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Five years! Can you frigging believe it? Five whole years. Yes, people. This blog has officially made it out of nappies and grown up. Thanks for sticking with it, muchos beloved readers, as Essex Eating found it’s voice and tentatively took it’s first steps, albeit staggeringly erratic ones and occasionally, crapped itself extravagantly with unashamedly wild abandon. Nevertheless it’s still here, an unvarnished electronic testament to my monumental stupidity and unabashed gluttony. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As is now traditional on this, the birth date of Essex Eating, I like to look back over the previous year. Picking out the gastronomic triumphs and the unmitigated f*cking disasters that I’ve experienced both while dining out and embarrassingly closer to home. 2013 was a pretty vintage year in every respect. Enjoy. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiskbhGRq3ju4OqN2idhDlg6Vl6Codr0vUcakTa5eQn_84norWeTi7s5d-UVJNNjcwDHRxhLLqRwFvvh6a4SWWURZ2lVnONa9dYCd1UCTczyl2MvpkX2tTRtQcCUmgbZGj-_MiKtqF_m8bX/s1600/DSC_0080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiskbhGRq3ju4OqN2idhDlg6Vl6Codr0vUcakTa5eQn_84norWeTi7s5d-UVJNNjcwDHRxhLLqRwFvvh6a4SWWURZ2lVnONa9dYCd1UCTczyl2MvpkX2tTRtQcCUmgbZGj-_MiKtqF_m8bX/s1600/DSC_0080.JPG" height="320" width="214" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I ate in some pretty amazing restaurants last year; in fact I probably ate out more often in 2013 than at any other time in my life. I have to say, the absolute best meal I ate was at Le Champignon Sauvage, David Everitt-Matthias’ s two Michelin starred restaurant in Cheltenham. The food was so beautifully cooked, so inventive and such a ridiculous bargain it’s almost hard to believe. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Closer to home, Bells Diner & Bar Rooms newly re-opened in May with talented Chef, Sam Sohn-Rethel running the kitchen. Providing me with something of a regular haunt, I ate there a hell of a lot in 2013, at one memorable point, almost twice a week. The food is superb. It’s now firmly entrenched as my favourite restaurant in Bristol.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Despite almost burning myself out with a week long 40th birthday fine dining binge, an evening at The Clove Club in Shoreditch was so good, it pretty much restored my faith in eating out. A beautiful and atmospheric room, inventive, fun and interesting food, easily one of the best meals I ate last year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Castle Terrace in Edinburgh comes in just a whisker behind Le Champignon Sauvage as my most impressive meal of 2013. I had an absolute belting lunch there. By far the best I ate in Edinburgh in fact, it’s probably one of the best lunches I’ve eaten anywhere. Chef Dominic Jack’s food is almost impossibly elegant and beautiful. I was absolutely blown away. The set lunch menu is a total bargain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In July I ate lunch at The Walnut Tree in Abergavenny, which is something of a legendary restaurant, with Sean Hill, who could be described as an equally legendary Chef, doing the cooking. Yep, it was pretty expensive but bloody hell it was good. Beautiful food. Jabron potatoes, get in my belly!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Back in January I was left completely and utterly enamoured with the Green Man & French Horn, the latest Gallic outpost from the owners of Terroir. I found the food honest, simple and beautifully cooked. I still think about the poached pear and salted butter caramel dish.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally, I have to mention my weekend breakfasts at Wallfish in Bristol. I'm there every Sunday and yeah, the full English is pretty damn phenomenal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Without a doubt, the best thing I cooked at home last year was fennel & raisin custard doughnuts, after a little expert advice from my mate, Sam, an ex St John pastry chef. Inspired by the flavours of Laura Harts excellent fennel and raisin bread. I churned out a batch of doughnuts so impossibly perfect that I found it hard to believe that I’d produced them with my own hands. Lovely. I was, and still am ridiculously proud. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another dish I was pretty pleased with was a bastardised version of Elizabeth David’s classic, Lamb Ste Menehould. I was introduced to this deep fried lamb breast dish at Bell’s Diner and mixed the original recipe with the restaurant method for preparing it. The result was superb. Loved it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have to also mention Sussex Pond Pudding. An absolute English classic. Suet pudding encasing a whole lemon, perhaps seems at first glance a bit strange. I first ate this at Hix in Browns Hotel and to say I was impressed was an understatement. I had to try it at home and I pretty much ate the whole f*cking lot solo. I just couldn’t leave it alone. If you’ve never tried it, make it immediately.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Strangely enough the worst dish I cooked was also doughnuts. The supreme fennel & raisin variety were my second attempt, after I’d initially made a batch of bacon and bourbon custard the week before, which were also admittedly delicious but this was before I’d been furnished with the indispensable help and tips from my pastry chef friend. I found making them a complete and utter ballache. Despite tasting delicious, they were frigging ugly, deflated and squashed, which strangely enough, exactly matched my mood as I surveyed the results.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I also cooked some lamb’s liver, which was the strongest most livery tasting piece of errr liver that I’ve ever had the misfortune to put in my mouth. I almost gagged on it and I’m normally a fan. Straight in the bin. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I no doubt made some pretty mundane, rubbish food but I’ve somehow expunged the memories from my noggin. Nothing else really springs to mind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I did a fair old bit of boozing last year, a couple of things in particular caught my eye. Chateau Musar a biodynamic Red from Lebanon (available from Waitrose) was bloody lovely and Kernel Table Beer, which has a lovely flavour but is light enough to drink all evening without falling on your ass. Much.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ok, couple of contenders. I’m kind of cheating here, as I didn’t order either of these dishes, the exact same friend I was eating with did on both occasions (Jemma, you have rubbish taste!). I haven’t eaten anything myself that was even close to being as appalling as these. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Poco, I love you guys but I didn’t love your mushroom and vanilla soup. In fact, I hated it. Thick and muddy looking with a disgusting sweet note from the vanilla, definitely not complimenting the earthy taste of the mushrooms. It was pretty wrong. Sorry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roast Cauliflower as a vegetarian option, yeah, broken down into florets with those crispy burnt edges, lovely. Number 1 Harbourside presented my friend with basically a whole cauliflower, in one piece, on a plate. Which is strange enough, but that it wasn’t cooked at all and was raw. No idea how that left the kitchen really. I was so disgusted, I complained on my sheepish looking friends behalf. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Best Dish I ate out in 2013</u></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZftPl2a06Q2-a-Glwun10uHeIi7_8WG-yH8ur4wImKEz0dksSkMx2pNnwzFz7rrQ5ViXcfffD-MkEvgvvdotEaeSx-A4UPZauZ4EWF68IF196ziq9xrVcC4iONzJ5FuwVetlG5nG6oqHD/s1600/DSC_0268.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZftPl2a06Q2-a-Glwun10uHeIi7_8WG-yH8ur4wImKEz0dksSkMx2pNnwzFz7rrQ5ViXcfffD-MkEvgvvdotEaeSx-A4UPZauZ4EWF68IF196ziq9xrVcC4iONzJ5FuwVetlG5nG6oqHD/s1600/DSC_0268.JPG" height="320" width="214" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2yYukaHF4GcX_VviBK_evTW_0Ln-wU6Zn7JnMcvoAn-OqFWTI9kHgetzgt_UORqQY6UPgDE3dBGue0tnCGnB7iTfW5jnYZt3mRdLijVeHUHCFTgyWbLdj3zuNdEgEXz2uBiU0gW3lK8lk/s1600/DSC_0134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2yYukaHF4GcX_VviBK_evTW_0Ln-wU6Zn7JnMcvoAn-OqFWTI9kHgetzgt_UORqQY6UPgDE3dBGue0tnCGnB7iTfW5jnYZt3mRdLijVeHUHCFTgyWbLdj3zuNdEgEXz2uBiU0gW3lK8lk/s1600/DSC_0134.JPG" height="214" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So many contenders here. Amalfi lemonade & black pepper ice cream at The Clove Club was bloody incredible as was the signature dish of buttermilk fried chicken & pine salt, scoffed at the aforementioned restaurant and again at it’s sister restaurant, Upstairs at The Ten Bells. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-_YRV99jE8IQFJ5Oy0HTBZyR7jL7f-_bii2cWpp6NsscyBbCITkA5googfl765T18cJ7IOG74IFL9Up9CUgDKG6JaCyzRsPP-ShJtC_4yJGs8xqO99y4ief2zOZLdir1_W2v6opO1PqVW/s1600/DSC_0202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-_YRV99jE8IQFJ5Oy0HTBZyR7jL7f-_bii2cWpp6NsscyBbCITkA5googfl765T18cJ7IOG74IFL9Up9CUgDKG6JaCyzRsPP-ShJtC_4yJGs8xqO99y4ief2zOZLdir1_W2v6opO1PqVW/s1600/DSC_0202.JPG" height="214" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hard to believe I’d include squid as one of the best dishes I ate last year, but cannelloni of North Sea squid with garlic and parsley at The Castle Terrace in Edinburgh blew me away. So delicate, intricate and beautifully cooked. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQVADJvM6i9X2swtWAkdFYinMHefU_1s_7JjI3mTGXKi4GGC7iccKkT0IBIFgsSDBvucCwcRG2WMmR8RtoMPA_NB2qOBN8D3W6OtaDsvhg-PLDq1xMqDVGJcBFJTtqVFFKUzQIcoj__OE/s1600/DSC_0036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQVADJvM6i9X2swtWAkdFYinMHefU_1s_7JjI3mTGXKi4GGC7iccKkT0IBIFgsSDBvucCwcRG2WMmR8RtoMPA_NB2qOBN8D3W6OtaDsvhg-PLDq1xMqDVGJcBFJTtqVFFKUzQIcoj__OE/s1600/DSC_0036.JPG" height="214" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A dessert of locally foraged sea buckthorn, crowdie (a type of Scottish cream cheese) carrot and biscuit at Edinburgh’s Timberyard really impressed me. It was on the set lunch menu at £5 and I just couldn’t believe the amount of work that had obviously gone into this dessert, at such a ridiculously low price. Consisting of a sea buckthorn granita and a jelly, whipped crowdie an unusual carrot sorbet (which was absolutely delicious) a frozen vanilla parfait and sheets of meringue. I know all the work is in the preparation, and assembly would take no time at all, but still, f*ck, a fiver! It was phenomenal.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjULj8IdgOuD9jsxDL7X2FrJlem89q2SV48fqpLpzYUMAttvBvdGAuAaw1OwcCeKzMOJpj1TUyp907PBdM7mezN0oO0PhPX8v4IvYrCmmq7QSgP2CxXjq7HaHahWehyphenhyphen_kGmB5j_D5p_XOFW/s1600/DSC_0028+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjULj8IdgOuD9jsxDL7X2FrJlem89q2SV48fqpLpzYUMAttvBvdGAuAaw1OwcCeKzMOJpj1TUyp907PBdM7mezN0oO0PhPX8v4IvYrCmmq7QSgP2CxXjq7HaHahWehyphenhyphen_kGmB5j_D5p_XOFW/s1600/DSC_0028+copy.jpg" height="200" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ve obviously got something of a sweet tooth because another winning dish from last year was a warm treacle tart at Arbutus in London. It was by far the best I’ve ever eaten, anywhere. Warm, just set, softly oozing sweetness on a beautifully crisp pastry base. As that first spoonful entered my willing gob and spread itself luxuriously across my tongue I was pinned to the seat, transfixed, radiating love for this dessert. It’s something of an understatement to say I thought it was pretty f*cking good. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNkhJhKU5px9wftzFePuDtFMP4MowKX-J0c9pDItgUVMxORoPM9WK_ayrlauaaSX8TLqCTkW8Mls5UeQtYW1Nnz_bsQAlSS-245yxHu_3y-ZxSJ9duK3_QHaEOMuWrLxg3ZSlhRBz6_tk5/s1600/DSC_0033+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNkhJhKU5px9wftzFePuDtFMP4MowKX-J0c9pDItgUVMxORoPM9WK_ayrlauaaSX8TLqCTkW8Mls5UeQtYW1Nnz_bsQAlSS-245yxHu_3y-ZxSJ9duK3_QHaEOMuWrLxg3ZSlhRBz6_tk5/s1600/DSC_0033+copy.jpg" height="175" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At Le Champignon Sauvage, Lamb fillet with poached apricot, aubergine, garlic yoghurt and Moroccan spiced sauce, impressed me no end. I just can’t believe this dish is on the set lunch menu, it was phenomenal. Seriously one of the best plates of food I’ve eaten anywhere. I don’t even know where to begin; the lamb was so tender and there was so much of it! The sweet dots of poached apricot and the subtly spiced sauce, just amazing. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhitgfr1prXxDzDZdJNHXU2cKGQAHfoB73oBVHcXxPSzDxmNZmixO_PwPyPCwcHDmeSYGiUenUI-vdj3KN5-T_Jnd6b9yZV9CJLU0oqIC2Wh3nIVhQS0uhxi3xSFSV2NQ7VqDExw51pAckm/s1600/Food+063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhitgfr1prXxDzDZdJNHXU2cKGQAHfoB73oBVHcXxPSzDxmNZmixO_PwPyPCwcHDmeSYGiUenUI-vdj3KN5-T_Jnd6b9yZV9CJLU0oqIC2Wh3nIVhQS0uhxi3xSFSV2NQ7VqDExw51pAckm/s1600/Food+063.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Obviously, the previously mentioned Lamb Ste Menehould at Bell’s Diner and Bar Rooms. Inspirational and bloody lovely. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLY3q0SGv9WQ4lQScGfssSOCKbbMOzernngtpG_oOzmlLEstn_LdVMyiiUwumAFBpSSpjhErEHHaNY1CHtcechdG1__2jy3AkNprziWj1fdrdFbgeKMGOQE8UiRlj5VHaSstX3BpjsGzli/s1600/Food+33742.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLY3q0SGv9WQ4lQScGfssSOCKbbMOzernngtpG_oOzmlLEstn_LdVMyiiUwumAFBpSSpjhErEHHaNY1CHtcechdG1__2jy3AkNprziWj1fdrdFbgeKMGOQE8UiRlj5VHaSstX3BpjsGzli/s1600/Food+33742.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally (that sweet tooth again) a poached pear with salted butter caramel and filled with crème anglaise at The Green Man and French Horn? F*ck yes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Weirdest Google searches that have led to my Blog 2013</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Roast Skunk</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>At it essek porno (?)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Arnold Schwarzenegger like pizza</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>alcohol+abuse+in+essex+useful+links (probably appropriate)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Add ma im hot (OK)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>diahorreah it can make a grown man weep (Indeed)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>butters whore-browns restaurant in London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>blown veal (eh?)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>birthday restaurant cack</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>gribiche sauce say it (No)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>grans looking for love in essex</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>frothing milk iceberg</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>fernet branca makes you sober (Not in my experience)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>essex posh salt (Maldon – tres posh)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>essex love sausages (they do)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>essex fight, cheek bitten off</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>eating red onions and drinking red wine</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>eat my ass Bristol</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>eat as much meat London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>do they make lamb in a can for sandwiches</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>do people eat pig cheeks</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>lyme regis what to do when its pissing down with rain</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>living room bristol twat</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>interseting fact about pork cheeks</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>I am ready with mint sauce</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>how to cook pork shoulder Essex way (there’s an Essex way?)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>how the fuck do you make pease pudding</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>how do you get mr. bacon stop oinking?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>how cooking sausages in coffee shop</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>hot mustard make my brain hurt</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>porno pollen</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>squid eating seahorse</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>why do people in essex like to eat pudding with gravy</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>why do my new potatoes fall apart when i cook them</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>why are scotch eggs horrible</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>who eats the most puddings in essex?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>whisk in arse</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>vintage eel fucking before cooking</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Best Recipe book 2013</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Loved One Good Dish by David Tanis. Stripped back, simple cooking. Almost like the American version of Nigel Slater. I found this really inspirational.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Have to include Simon Hopkinson Cooks. I bloody love Simon Hopkinson, his style of cooking, his recipes and his writing are top class.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tom Kerridge’s Proper Pub Food was probably my favourite cookbook of 2013. Managing to be both accessible and at the same time, slightly ‘cheffy’. I think it’s cracking. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Strangest thing I ate in 2013</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Has to be slices of tuna heart in a Fisherman’s working mans club in Spain. It tasted surprisingly subtle, almost like thinly sliced pieces of roast beef. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Best Ingredients and Produce I ate in 2013</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I bloody loved the fennel & raisin loaf at Harts Bakery, in fact I loved it so much it inspired me to use the flavour combination as a filling for doughnuts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Right now I’m a bit addicted to Marks Bread Baguettes. They’re bloody crusty and delicious. They make awesome toast when they get a bit older. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hands down the best doughnuts in Bristol, comparable even to St John’s famous doughnuts in London (unsurprising as the pastry chef who makes them is ex St John) Pippin Doughnuts I love you, tres much, especially the custard variety.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Must visit restaurants 2014</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As is now traditional – here’s last years wish list. I actually managed to knock a few off this time. Having had amazing lunches at Le Champignon Sauvage, Arbutus and The Kitchin in Edinburgh. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>The Kitchin – Edinburgh </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Brawn – London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>The British Larder – Suffolk</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Le Champignon Sauvage – Cheltenham</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Restaurant Sat Bains – Nottingham</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Dinner by Heston Blumenthal – London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Zucca – London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Bocca Di Lupo - London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>L’enclume – Cumbria</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Balthazar – London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Honey & Co – London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Hand & Flowers – Marlow</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Galvin at Windows (or La Chapelle) – London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Wild Honey or Arbutus (or both!) - London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So much for looking back, lets swivel our view forward to the future. Here’s this years wish list. As always, it’ll be interesting to see how many I actually managed to eat at by January 2015.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Dinner by Heston Blumenthal – London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Hand & Flowers – Marlow</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>L’Enclume – Cumbria</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Wild Honey – London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Brawn – London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>The Dairy – London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Sweetings – London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Bocca Di Lupo – London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>8 Hoxton Square - London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Chez Bruce - London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Social Eating House – London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Rules – London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Berners Tavern - London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Restaurant Sat Bains – Nottingham</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>The French at The Midland Hotel - Manchester</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So that’s that. Five years of Essex Eating. I can hardly believe it myself. It’s been a strange year; despite eating and drinking a hell of a lot I managed to achieve some balance in my dining habits and lost two and a half stone! Basically, just by educating myself a bit as to how many calories I was actually stuffing in my gob and reining the excess in slightly, oh and doing a bit of running.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So that’s me, svelte, fit and ready for another year of (moderate) gluttony, drinking muchos (sort of), cooking and trying to write about it all. Stay tuned for more of the same, my gorgeous readers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mwah Mwah</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dan</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">x</span></div>
Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-57172757678251330802013-12-30T13:08:00.001+00:002013-12-30T13:17:04.364+00:00The Clove Club - London<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGOxMdwtIEZI8kQbOCWny2McAwAtECrQPXWlizltqWkfx5WKAtYEHefmk-0-waR-gGc2vfeGDBeCHVIUH4fVIACEwlilKUm5q7-jvO_E8Io4xnQ6fkvCvBhoWnf_Co2qBJPysFolAmJXcQ/s1600/DSC_0276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGOxMdwtIEZI8kQbOCWny2McAwAtECrQPXWlizltqWkfx5WKAtYEHefmk-0-waR-gGc2vfeGDBeCHVIUH4fVIACEwlilKUm5q7-jvO_E8Io4xnQ6fkvCvBhoWnf_Co2qBJPysFolAmJXcQ/s320/DSC_0276.JPG" width="214" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You may have noticed I recently spent some time in Edinburgh, basically eating every bloody thing I could lay my hands on. This unrepentant, gluttonous bout of restaurant debauchery, all in the dubious honour of my 40th birthday, almost broke me. Honestly, I didn’t think it was possible for me to experience, but this ridiculously indulgent, self-inflicted, surfeit of fine food and wine left me dazed, bloated, craving any form of salad and with the nagging feeling that if I even glimpsed another tasting menu I’d throw myself to the floor and start having a tantrum.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At this, my lowest point, I flew back to London where a now, distinctly unwanted, dinner reservation at The Clove Club awaited. Seriously, I’d just had enough; I didn’t fancy it at all, despite wanting to eat there for some time. At the appointed hour of doom I dutifully dragged my sorry ass over to Shoreditch, and all credit to the restaurant, I’m happy to say this jaded, overindulged, miserable old f*cker had a really cracking meal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The restaurant itself is located in the old Shoreditch town hall, which makes for a rather grand entrance. I headed straight into the packed, dimly lit bar and immediately felt better. These things are hard to define sometimes, but for me the room had a good vibe. Led to my table in the dining room, out back, and I perked up even more. There’s something of a St John’ish feel to the rather austere looking room, with an open kitchen at one end, bare wooden tables, battered white walls and moody lighting. I loved it. Seriously, if I had my own restaurant I’d like to imagine it would look just like this. It was packed out, and as with the bar next door there was a nice buzz about it, which was a welcome antidote to some of the hushed fine dining I’d just recently experienced in Edinburgh.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is only one choice in the restaurant, a set menu at £47. Fair enough.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRW8rV_OeOMtZGG3FjGa6DTOQSStOBZjLI57WndgsGV6MM1RLwHs5H-qS8B3c0ljQtLTLZfFbyXmU145IQyXZSVZlQXVRlB1HLO86TtSw-518A00T3eBfrNMCE3axcWvpz4xTjB0zNKWlP/s1600/DSC_0236.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRW8rV_OeOMtZGG3FjGa6DTOQSStOBZjLI57WndgsGV6MM1RLwHs5H-qS8B3c0ljQtLTLZfFbyXmU145IQyXZSVZlQXVRlB1HLO86TtSw-518A00T3eBfrNMCE3axcWvpz4xTjB0zNKWlP/s320/DSC_0236.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’d eaten the buttermilk fried chicken & pine salt before at their sister restaurant, Upstairs at The Ten Bells, so knew what to expect and also knew not to tuck into the bed of pine branches (so tempting). What to say, it’s absolutely delicious and easy to see why it’s become such a signature dish. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Radishes, black sesame and gochuchang, a fermented Korean condiment made from red chilli, glutinous rice and soybeans, followed. An interesting take on the classic radishes with salt and butter, the fiery, buttery texture of the gochuchang and the nuttiness of the sesame seeds worked really well. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wood pigeon sausage & greengage ketchup was bloody stunning. My only complaint would be the microscopic dimensions of the measly frigging little taster piece I was presented with. I’m looking at the menu right now and it definitely says ‘sausages’ not ‘sawn off sausage nub’. Oh well, still, it was very nice and definitely left me wanting more…bastards.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Spartanly presented, Scottish blood pudding, celeriac and red william pear was probably my least favourite of the dishes I ate. The flavour combination of the black pudding, pear and celeriac was lovely but I think I’ve been a little spoilt by Trealy Farm’s rather excellent boudin noir. Every other black pudding I’ve tried just doesn’t come close in flavour or texture, including this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next dish arrived, BBQ squid, tarragon and the intriguingly named, green meat radishes (I asked and disappointingly it’s just that the flesh is green…oh). The squid was perfectly cooked, a feat which seems to elude a fair few restaurants. The unusual tarragon and radish combination worked well. Nothing to blow my socks off, just a good solid plate of food.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aged featherblade of beef, Jerusalem artichoke and horseradish, however was absolutely bloody awesome. The meat was so ridiculously sticky, tender and rich. This is my idea of a perfect plate of wintery grub, I sat there transfixed, a big grin on my face as I shovelled forkful after forkful it into my mouth, enjoying every last bit and feeling genuinely disappointed when there was nothing left but a plate scraped bare.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Luckily for me the next course was also something of a standout. A bowl of Amalfi lemonade & black pepper ice cream was just incredible. Ridiculously soft, warm and mousse like on top with a contrasting cooler temperature deeper down and an almost effervescent, sherbet tingle on the tongue. Unbelievable. I bloody loved this. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Warm quince, vanilla cream and gingerbread was nice enough. Really, what’s not to like about that combination of flavours? Although I found the gingerbread to be a little tough perhaps; I couldn’t cut through it with my spoon without sending it skidding across the plate. So rather than end up with it in my lap and utilising the years I spent in that posh finishing school, I picked it up and got stuck in.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Coffee came with an addition. A bar of The Clove Club’s own chocolate flavoured with almond. I thought this was a really nice and unusal touch.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But not quite as good as the final flourish. A lurid green pill, sitting atop a note collectively praising Fernet Branca (the Italian medicinal tasting, herbal drink), Fergus Henderson and his St John restaurant. There followed a recipe for a Dr Henderson cocktail, (Named after Fergus’s Father, a combination of crème de menthe and Fernet, it’s something of an acquired taste). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Popping the pill into my mouth, it broke and I could taste the unmistakable flavour of the aforementioned cocktail flooding across my tongue, lovely.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That I enjoyed my meal at The Clove Club so much, despite arriving with an unusually negative mindset of not really wanting to eat at another restaurant, just goes to show how good it actually is.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The restaurant itself is lovely both in atmosphere and design. The service was spot on and the food itself was incredibly inventive, fun and interesting as well as beautifully cooked. Yeah, a couple of the dishes were a bit more workmanlike than jaw droppingly impressive but the aged featherblade of beef and the Amalfi lemondade and black pepper ice cream were so astoundingly impressive, they’re kind of a hard act to follow.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Clove Club, yeah, loved it.</span><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Clove Club</span></i></b><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shoreditch Town Hall</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">380 Old Street</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">London</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">EC1 9LT</span></i>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-27202665925123270232013-12-16T20:04:00.002+00:002013-12-16T20:31:57.614+00:00Castle Terrace - Edinburgh<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If right now you could gaze upon my complexion, you’d probably note how untroubled by the ravages of time it is, how peach like and bursting full of moisture I obviously am and just how damn youthful I look. If I then told you that I turn 40 at the end of this week, and I recently spent three days in Edinburgh, celebrating my fourth decade on the planet by eating pretty much everywhere, your jaw would no doubt hit the floor. You’d definitely have had me pegged at 18.Yeah. But no, people, seriously I’m at least halfway dead. Party!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But that’s enough about me, lets talk about you. What do you think about me? (leave comments). No seriously, moving on. By far the best meal I ate during my stay in Edinburgh was also the most reasonably priced. This aspect impressed me no end. The restaurant was The Castle Terrace and I am declaring myself completely smitten.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Located, strangely enough, on the end of a Terrace in the shadow of Edinburgh castle, the Michelin starred restaurant is part of Tom Kitchin’s Scottish empire, with Dominic Jack, the head chef.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’d booked for lunch, before flying back to London later that afternoon and only really had my eye on the set lunch menu, the a la carte being a bit more robustly priced.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The dining room itself had a nice feel to it with a warm, relaxed vibe.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A selection of rather interesting looking canapés came first. Salt cod barbajuan (let me just say now, I had no frigging idea what a barbajuan was, it turns out it’s Monaco’s national dish and is a deep fried savoury pastry) this example was matt black and spiky, almost fetishist in appearance and incredible to look at. It was also absolutely delicious. Next a perfectly miniature burger flavoured with caper and cumin which was also delicious. Finally a ‘Caesar Salad’ in the form of a spherical green jelly, which I had been advised to eat in one bite. It impressed me no end that the flavour that flooded my mouth as I bit into it was indeed the Parmesan, crouton, lettuce, anchovy and creamy dressing taste of the classic salad. I’ve got to say, these were bloody awesome canapés, some of the best and most inventive I’ve eaten anywhere. I was really sitting up and taking notice now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Chewing on some excellent bread and butter, brought to the table in a tartan bag arrangement, designed to keep it warm (it did) I couldn’t wait to see what was coming next.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">An appetiser billed as ‘baked potato with cheese’ came next. Consisting of a potato veloute with a dusting of savoury spices on the top. I dipped in with my spoon and broke into a deep fried molten ball of cheese hidden at the bottom. Lovely.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I rarely ever order squid in a restaurant. I find it’s often pretty bland and ridiculously easy to cook badly, but I went for it thinking this would be a real test of how good the cooking was. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jackpot! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Look at the photo, how beautiful is that for a plate of food? What I initially thought was a risotto underneath the candy-striped cylinder of squid stuffed with a fish mousse was in fact tiny pieces of squid. The whole dish was so elegant and so incredibly impressive in its construction I just found myself staring at it. The spell broken with my fork plunging into the cannelloni and dipping it into the accompanying garlic and parley sauces, I’ve got to say not only was it a looker, but it tasted amazing. Yep and as you’d expect the squid was perfectly cooked too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A pithivier of ox tongue with autumnal vegetables followed. As with the previous dish, I spent a bit of quality ‘me’ time just admiring the incredible precision of the pastry work and the dish in general. It was so perfect it almost felt a shame to eat the bloody thing. Suppressing any feelings of guilt, I waded in, carefully constructing a forkful consisting of a bit of everything, as is my way. Yeah, it was amazing. The deeply savoury ox tongue filling, combined with the mash and the vegetables was basically perfect autumn comfort food tarted up and refined beyond belief. I loved it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Locally foraged sea buckthorn featured on a cheesecake served with chocolate sorbet. As with everything else, the presentation was incredible but this was probably the least impressive course I ate. I wasn’t entirely convinced by the combination of chocolate and sea buckthorn, I thought the sharpness of the berries was slightly overwhelmed by the richness of the chocolate flavours. That’s me being finicky. I don’t mind saying it was still good and I ate the lot.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPfPHSTyUPQHXcjhF9EJe3T0s_42WeRIkr91LpRDa0Koce7jR9Nu1pjM5qpYlUYnkV7jXxDqg9hjBwKGt1U9ufaIIvASrtRsiqDzelsAwuaU2EYJDA2u4ShFT1QD1JB5veFTTfV3weiyPX/s1600/DSC_0215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPfPHSTyUPQHXcjhF9EJe3T0s_42WeRIkr91LpRDa0Koce7jR9Nu1pjM5qpYlUYnkV7jXxDqg9hjBwKGt1U9ufaIIvASrtRsiqDzelsAwuaU2EYJDA2u4ShFT1QD1JB5veFTTfV3weiyPX/s320/DSC_0215.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With coffee accompanying petits fours and a tip, my bill came to £39, which for that standard of cooking felt almost ridiculous. I’d had a bit of an excess of booze the night before, so this didn’t include any alcohol, I stuck with water.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I bloody loved The Castle Terrace. As I said previously I thought it was by far the best meal I ate in Edinburgh. The service was pitch perfect, not too friendly, not too stuffy and formal (<a href="http://essexeating.blogspot.co.uk/2013/12/restaurant-martin-wishart-edinburgh.html" target="_blank">Restaurant Martin Wishart</a> take note) the food was undoubtedly amazing. So elegant and beautifully cooked but with really inventive and interesting touches. I honestly couldn’t have been more impressed. It’s easily one of the best lunches I’ve eaten this year; in fact, I’d go so far as to say it’s up there as one of the best lunches I’ve eaten full stop. That the set lunch menu is such an incredible bargain just makes it that much more impressive.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you’re in Edinburgh, you must eat here. No question.<i> </i></span><br />
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<i><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Castle Terrace</span></b></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">33/35 Castle Terrace</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Edinburgh</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">EH1 2EL</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Telephone: 0131 229 1222</span></i><br />
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<a href="http://www.castleterracerestaurant.com/"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">http://www.castleterracerestaurant.com</span></i></a>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-19440275438740686162013-12-12T21:15:00.000+00:002013-12-12T21:15:23.994+00:00Restaurant Martin Wishart - Edinburgh<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPbTAPNe9xSBFGN9AI2BJI2DDQczh2hW07kqpWHn9qVvGOxmKwVl9hg-L4S8DxQTcAJAdL300irIOnIRrknBbRSECHYZmXb1qNDhNa3ty-FCQobXj8uBUXQ_OMQB7zOpLIZbfqcGepHV-R/s1600/DSC_0086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPbTAPNe9xSBFGN9AI2BJI2DDQczh2hW07kqpWHn9qVvGOxmKwVl9hg-L4S8DxQTcAJAdL300irIOnIRrknBbRSECHYZmXb1qNDhNa3ty-FCQobXj8uBUXQ_OMQB7zOpLIZbfqcGepHV-R/s320/DSC_0086.JPG" width="214" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Remember in my last post when I said that I carefully researched which restaurants I ate at and therefore rarely eat a crap meal? Well, I'm disheartened to report that Restaurant Martin Wishart in Edinburgh recently tested the limits of this somewhat. To be fair, it was about as far from crap as it’s possible to get, but I didn’t enjoy it nearly half as much as I thought I would, especially when choking on the eye watering bill at the end of the meal. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here’s how it went down….</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The restaurant is located on the harbourside in Leith, Edinburgh’s old port area, with the entrance itself picked out by hot pink glowing lights. I initially thought it might be a brothel. Carefully concealing my extreme disappointment when I realised it was in fact the restaurant I’d booked a table at, I stepped through the front door to be greeted by the French maitre d’.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, as you can well imagine, being from the Essex hinterland, I’m a frigging classy dude and I’ve eaten in any number of ‘posh restaurants’ and invariably felt entirely at home. To the manor born (OK, ‘manor’ in the Arthur Daley sense, but still). Martin Wishart was different. I didn’t feel comfortable here. Glancing around the softly lit dining room, I noticed all the other diners, without fail, were extremely dressed up. Evening dresses, suits and ties. Uncomfortably aware of my own, less salubrious attire (tracksuit bottoms tucked into sport socks, deep V t-shirt and novelty tartan cap with attached ginger wig), I couldn’t help but feel underdressed. I may have been <i>slightly</i> more tastefully attired, but you get the point.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This was a temple to fine dining populated by an obviously wealthy clientele and for probably the first time ever eating in a restaurant, I felt slightly on edge.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe things would improve when I got stuck into the food, which in this case was to be the tasting menu at £75</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">An amuse of beetroot macarons, one with horseradish, and another with carrot and cornichon were an interesting idea, but perhaps a little too subtly flavoured for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another amuse followed, to be eaten, I was informed in an almost impenetrable French accent, in a specific order left to right; courgette, basil, curry oil and espelette pepper which was very nice. Pomme dauphine, crème fraiche and smoked salmon, which was curiously presented sitting on a piece of scrunched up tin foil, still, lovely. Finally a warm chicken parfait, Parmesan veloute and port reduction, also cracking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Partridge ravioli, cabbage with sage, truffle sauce followed and was absolutely banging. A rich meaty ravioli filling in a creamy and beautifully flavoured truffle sauce. Seriously, what’s not to like?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Next, a glass containing a ceviche of Gigha halibut with mango & passion fruit was obviously much subtler. Again, it was bloody delicious, seriously good. Fresh tasting and light, I could have finished off a pint of this rather than the demure martini glassful I’d had to make do with.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Loch Fyne crab ‘Marie Rose’ consisting of a tartare of rose veal, tomato and crab mayonnaise arrived at the table beautifully presented in an attractive glassware dish with pebbles and shells suspended in a bowl underneath. As with the previous dishes, the food itself was beautifully flavoured. The rose veal tartare, subtle and cool against the silky richness of the crab mayonnaise.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Roasted veal sweetbreads were served sitting on a chestnut puree, surrounded by a moat of potato veloute. A bit beige perhaps, but it had knock out flavours. I have a bit of a thing for both sweetbreads and potatoes, in any form, so it was hard to fault really.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The following dish was the main event, roast loin of Ayrshire hare, pastille of braised leg, red cabbage, port wine, braised turnips and dauphine potato. Technically it was an impressive dish. The tiny pastille of braised leg were elegantly cylindrical, crisp and stuffed full of rich meat. The potato dauphine, deep fried potato mixed with choux pastry were perfectly cooked as was the loin of hare, which was delicious.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I ate, I ear wigged on my next-door neighbours’ conversation. A pair of solicitors discussing cases of wine they had in their respective cellars and how one of them had once spanked over a grand on lunch, which probably goes some way in exemplifying the majority of my fellow diners. I was tempted to join in with an excessive anecdote of my own concerning the consumption of multiple doner kebabs during a drunken night out in Essex.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dessert was phenomenal. I’m struggling to describe what exactly it was, the menu description is just ‘salted caramel’ but it was somewhere between a cheesecake and a thick toffee like caramel mousse, partnered with poached Guyot pear, peanuts and a pear sorbet, it really was something special.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Coffee and rather lovely petits fours, consisting of whisky truffles, a majari chocolate macaron, spiced orange and mandarin, coffee ganache and salted caramel, rounded things off.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That, with two glasses of wine and service came to £109. One of the most expensive meals I’ve ever had (no thousand pound lunches here, sadly) and as I said at the beginning of the post, I didn’t enjoy it half as much as I thought I would. The food was superb and hard to fault really. Expensive ingredients, beautifully cooked and prepared, lovely. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The problem I had with Restaurant Martin Wishart was the incredibly stuffy, fine dining vibe, the entire French front of house team, albeit consummately pleasant and professional, were always slightly stand offish and gave out a slightly aloof air. It’s hard to put my finger on what was up, but I’ve eaten in enough ‘posh’ restaurants to know that here, I just didn’t feel comfortable and therefore didn’t really enjoy the experience. For examples of restaurants that get it right, both The Ledbury and The Square manage to strike the perfect balance between a fine dining experience and warm, professional front of house. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This was the most expensive meal I ate on my stay in Edinburgh and I’m sad to say, the one I probably enjoyed the least, despite the food being excellent.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><b>Restaurant Martin Wishart</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>54 Shore,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Edinburgh, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Midlothian </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>EH6 6RA</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Telephone: 0131 553 3557</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><a href="http://www.restaurantmartinwishart.co.uk/">http://www.restaurantmartinwishart.co.uk</a></i></span>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-84048401642737206622013-12-08T19:13:00.000+00:002013-12-08T19:15:12.055+00:00Timberyard - Edinburgh<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some may have noticed I rarely write bad reviews of restaurants. Not because I lack the killer instinct to critique or have a desperate urge to please with fawning adulation, no. My generally upbeat reviews are down to a matter of moolah or to be honest, the lack of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You see, almost every restaurant I visit, I research carefully first. It’s almost certainly somewhere I genuinely want to experience, in some cases somewhere I’ve wanted to eat at for years. The dull, the mediocre the dire and the downright shit will have been meticulously identified and studiously avoided. I just don’t have the cash to piss up the wall on rubbish restaurants. If I’m going to eat anywhere, I try my hardest to ensure it’s good. It doesn’t always work out that way to be fair, but my success rate is pretty impressive. It’s extremely rare that I eat a crap meal. Life is far too short to eat badly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So far, so good. But on a recent visit to Edinburgh, I broke all my own rules and ate lunch at a restaurant I pretty much knew sod all about. I’d had a couple of recommendations, sure, but when I turned up at the door trying to cadge a table for one, I didn’t even know what type of food they were serving. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Luckily, as it turned out, I hit the frigging jackpot and had one of the best lunches of the trip. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Located in an old converted timber yard (hence the name, cunning) the restaurant itself is large, light and incredibly stylish in a Scandinavian meets contemporary Scottish kind of way. I took a seat by the wood burner whilst resting the menu on a heavy reclaimed wood table and admired a tartan throw artfully draped over the back of some kind of metal framed design classic chair. It felt like I’d stepped into the pages of a trendy lifestyle mag. Of course, as you’d imagine I was entirely at home in such a setting but still, tres stylised.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The stylishness continued when my bottle of water was placed on a sawn off tree trunk perched next to the table. Totes organic trendy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The menu has an interesting ‘bite’ section, basically amuse to get you started. I ordered a couple. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaEiZRdxqo7k_hp8cx_PChkqA9j7MlxA02UwcEiJ_sD3nInWrh8ULNL02QhHRccg9Vz27KM17ZmXZlqr1gOqoMcG9jqEWcr741A2vySb6IdGhhGO4Fufe9VT-E9pD3TD51uAvLj52fzboL/s1600/DSC_0020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaEiZRdxqo7k_hp8cx_PChkqA9j7MlxA02UwcEiJ_sD3nInWrh8ULNL02QhHRccg9Vz27KM17ZmXZlqr1gOqoMcG9jqEWcr741A2vySb6IdGhhGO4Fufe9VT-E9pD3TD51uAvLj52fzboL/s320/DSC_0020.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ham hock jelly, quails egg, toast, cress, mushroom and apple featured on the set lunch menu and was delicious with a lovely delicate balance of flavours. A set meat jelly isn’t something I’d considered before as a main component of a dish but it worked beautifully.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My second ‘bite’; cured mallard, pickled roots, nuts and lichen was decent but perhaps just a little underwhelming compared to the ham hock dish. I thought it needed something else in there, just to lift it a bit more. In any case I’d ordered this dish because the idea of eating lichen was intriguing. Unfortunately I couldn’t pick the individual flavour out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I should mention the bread, which was great and served with a side plate of whipped butter, juniper smoked black pepper and Hebredian sea salt with rosemary. I bet I know what you’re thinking. I thought the same. It all sounds incredibly pretentious and just a bit poncey. But you know what? It actually worked and the flavours actually came through. Anyone watching would have seen my facial impression change from bemused sneer to smiling approval by the time I’d stuffed the last piece of bread into my mouth. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next dish, a starter of raw roe deer, smoked and pickled beetroot, bramble and spiced bread was superb. The roe deer, chopped into a coarse tartare had a beautiful subtle gamey flavour. The plating style was interesting, with the food arranged outwards from the centre of the plate in a line.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I followed this up with an absolutely banging plate of Lamb loin and belly, beetroot, kohlrabi, kale, radish and whipped potato. The lamb was beautifully cooked with the rich belly meat tasting particularly impressive.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A dessert of locally foraged sea buckthorn, crowdie (a type of Scottish cream cheese) carrot and biscuit was one of the best things I ate on the whole Edinburgh trip. It was on the set lunch menu at £5 and I just couldn’t believe the amount of work that had obviously gone into this dessert, at such a ridiculously low price. Consisting of a sea buckthorn granita and a jelly, whipped crowdie an unusual carrot sorbet (which was absolutely delicious) a frozen vanilla parfait and sheets of meringue. I know all the work is in the preparation, and assembly would take no time at all, but still, f*ck, a fiver! It was phenomenal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At this point I headed downstairs to the loo and was intrigued by the pommel horse (obviously for a bit of pre-piss gymnastics) and the industrial tapping and water dripping sounds piped through the speakers. Very unusual but also weirdly cool.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I loved Timberyard. The whole place felt seemingly effortlessly cool and stylish, but as is often not the case when using those words to describe anywhere, it also felt very welcoming. Put simply, it had a good vibe. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The food itself is incredibly interesting and quiet unlike anything I’ve eaten lately. I’m trying to think of somewhere comparable and I’m drawing a blank. Believe me, that’s a good thing. Everything I ate was delicious but the lamb dish in particular was lovely and the sea buckthorn dessert was seriously impressive. Kernel table beer was available as well, which gets the whole place an extra massive thumbs up from me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you find yourself in Edinburgh, definitely go and eat here.</span><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Timberyard</span></i></b><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">10 Lady Lawson Street, </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Edinburgh</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">EH3 9DS</span></i><br />
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<a href="http://www.timberyard.co/index.php"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">http://www.timberyard.co/index.php</span></i></a>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-24306433512726098672013-12-04T19:07:00.001+00:002013-12-04T19:28:32.538+00:00Foxlow - London<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've always been a fan of the Hawksmoor group of restaurants, from way back when it was just the original site on Commercial Street. The cocktails are always excellent and well researched; the food is generally superb and for me strikes just the right balance between fun and serious eating. I still fondly rate their burger as one the best in London, I love the breakfast at the Guildhall site and for steaks, right across the board, in a now fairly crowded and competitive market, they’re still pretty much unbeatable. So when a few months back I heard that owners, Will Beckett and Huw Gott were opening something a bit different, a ‘neighbourhood restaurant’ called Foxlow, which ‘<i>allows us to do many of the things we've wanted to do over the last few years, but which we couldn't really squeeze onto a Hawksmoor menu</i>’ I was intrigued.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The new restaurant opened in November, on St John Street in my old much missed stomping ground of Clerkenwell and last week, as I was in the area and purely on the off chance I stumbled in, après boozing and managed to score an impromptu table.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The restaurant interior itself is instantly recognisable as being part of the Hawksmoor group. There is something of the same cool, architectural salvaged feel to the fixtures and fittings although there isn't quite the same Victorian gentleman’s club vibe. On the night I visited, it was dark, heaving and business was brisk.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The menu itself is interesting, there’s no overriding theme or grounding in any one cuisine or place, it roams freely around the globe, partnering beef short rib with kimchi, which sits on the menu alongside imam bayildi and Iberico pork ‘pluma’. There’s also a salad bar section, which instantly evoked fond, teenage memories of taking the absolute piss in Pizza Hut’s display of bacon bits, iceberg lettuce, cherry tomatoes and cold pasta. Foxlow, perhaps sharing the exact same memories don’t allow the customers to help themselves. So no three foot high, precariously balanced salad bowls here then. Bastards.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Starting off proceedings in a delicate, slightly sophisticated way, as is the natural way of things for me, I ate some anchovy and goats butter crisps from the snack section of the menu. As you’d expect, they were umami packed but not overpoweringly so and cracking to eat with a cheeky cocktail. Of course, I don’t need any excuse and my accompanying Pickle Buck (a riff on the now infamous bourbon shot followed by pickle juice chaser) was pretty damn fine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From this point onwards, something changed and delicate and sophisticated f*cked right off, sharpish as I descended into appalling excess and gluttonous gout inducing trough wallowing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The ten-hour beef shortrib with kimchi was absolutely delicious. The rich, sticky meat, gelatinously balanced on the bone with the accompanying pungent kick of the kimchi was glorious. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5pRtRW3-L6PbVblTkh5o0042AyvsxHDobh8lsYYJv7mkcXPhRbydV39bp2BIgr4h_tMwmV2ciRbcCrZUrjYYpAFcq0oTJOesif-cukjOw9_NgG9usb8AAipd6I7rUzV2zNsYbzWq7ztj0/s1600/DSC_0108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5pRtRW3-L6PbVblTkh5o0042AyvsxHDobh8lsYYJv7mkcXPhRbydV39bp2BIgr4h_tMwmV2ciRbcCrZUrjYYpAFcq0oTJOesif-cukjOw9_NgG9usb8AAipd6I7rUzV2zNsYbzWq7ztj0/s320/DSC_0108.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A donkey choking slab of eight hour bacon rib with maple and chilli was equally rich and sat by itself on the plate, unadorned by any accompanying garnish or frippery. An almost Spartan challenge to greedy bastardos. Hello.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This was a friend’s choice, but she could hardly make a dent in it and offered it to me. I ate and I ate and I ate and then I ate some more. It was superb but seemingly never ending, not in a bad way but in an almost mocking way. I pride myself on being able to eat, but this was ridiculous. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe matters weren't helped along by my side order of beef dripping potatoes with Gubbeen and capers (as lovely as it sounds) or perhaps it was the addition of the slightly liverish tasting, meaty delight of the sausage stuffed onion, which I found faintly obscene to look at, like some kind of delicious wizened bollock. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At this point, I was struggling. There was still a lump of bacon rib left big enough to feed a family of four (for a month) and I couldn't even meet its gaze, averting my eyes shamefully. But I had to be thorough; I wanted to sample a dessert…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Bannoffee split is a whopping, dessert, tooth crumbling sweet but ridiculously good. It was the worst possible choice for someone in my advanced state of stuffed silly. The portion size is enough for two, maybe even three. I shouldn't have, but I just couldn't leave it alone. One more spoonful, groan. Just one more, groan. I almost finished it before floundering and pushing it away, disgusted with myself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Settling up and waddling off into the night, I felt uncomfortably full, bloated and just a tiny bit sick…but in a good way. I enjoyed it a lot, in fact…as I was finding out, too much.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Foxlow is exactly as you’d expect from the seasoned owners of Hawksmoor, slick service, excellent cocktails, an interesting menu with nice eclectic touches and generally a lot of fun.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some of the portion sizes are impressive and some of the food pretty damn rich. Don’t follow my example, order carefully and wisely and you wont have to be practically shoehorned out of the door in a coma. It’s my own fault of course. I'm drawn to the ‘big ticket’ filthy rich menu items like a moth to a flame. Mesmerised I forget about balance or restraint and generally get stuck in. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Basically I enjoyed it so much, I made myself sick. Go and don’t do the same.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Foxlow</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>69-73 St John Street</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>EC1M 4AY</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>London</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Telephone: 020 7014 8070</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><a href="http://www.foxlow.co.uk/">http://www.foxlow.co.uk</a></i></span></div>
Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-27034074419316623992013-11-25T18:31:00.001+00:002013-11-25T18:31:47.223+00:00Arbutus - London<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Since I started writing this blog, every January, I've written <a href="http://www.essexeating.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/4-years-of-essex-eating.html" target="_blank">a list of restaurants</a> I want to eat at in the coming year. To be honest, it’s more of a wish list than a serious declaration of intent; at the end of each year I rarely cross off as many as I’d like. Last week, in a shocking break from form, I managed to squeeze in lunch at Arbutus, a listed restaurant, and in one bold stroke return some order to my chaotic universe.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Arbutus is somewhere I've wanted to eat at for quite some time, mainly because I'm a massive fan of Chef, Anthony Demetre’s recipe book, ‘<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Todays-special-bistro-Recipes-Arbutus/dp/184400614X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1385404184&sr=1-1&keywords=todays+special" target="_blank">Today’s Special</a>’ which is absolutely cracking, full of beautiful yet refreshingly rustic food. Definitely buy it if you don’t already own it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As you’d expect in a Michelin starred Soho restaurant on Thursday lunchtime, Arbutus was packed to the rafters with well-heeled looking media types when I arrived. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Taking a seat in the plain, but pleasant feeling dining room, I’d more or less decided what I was going to eat before looking at the menu, feeling decidedly less flush than my fellow diners, I’d opted for ‘The working lunch’ set menu. Not that the a la carte is particularly expensive, it’s not, but what with Christmas approaching and an ever growing horde of nieces and nephews to buy presents for, I’m all about affordable treats right now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My starter of hand chopped Scottish beef tartare was beautiful to look at and astoundingly good to eat. The steak had a fantastic texture, spiked throughout with the sharpness of the chopped capers, gherkins and the heat of mustard and Tabasco. Forked through with a rich raw egg yolk and spread on a slice of charred sourdough. Absolute heaven. One of the best things I’ve eaten all year. Some people are a bit squeamish about eating raw steak and egg . If that’s you and you’re in a very good restaurant (definitely not a dish to get stuck into in your local Harvester) and steak tartare is on the menu, I urge you to order it. If you can get past the fact it’s raw, you will not be disappointed. Seriously. Don’t deprive yourself of the pleasure!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have a bit of a restaurant prejudice about chicken. I never order it. It always seems so safe, so boring and so easily overcooked and subsequently dry (God forbid its undercooked). Despite this; my hand forced somewhat by not fancying the alternative option on the set menu, I’d gone for the fowl. This arrived at the table in the shape of Black leg chicken, roast carrots, chestnut mushrooms and a side dish of potato dauphinoise. As is so often the case with prejudices, at some point you’re going to get them challenged and probably end up feeling like a complete chump. Yeah that’s me. The chicken was unbelievably good. The crispiest salted skin, rich moist flesh and the majority of the bones removed in a cheffy piece of butchery. Combine this with a creamy dauphinoise, crisp vegetables, a sweet carrot and cumin puree and deeply savoury gravy, it all adds up to me eating my words. Ordering chicken in a restaurant can certainly pay off.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I decided to sidestep the set lunch menu dessert option, a warm English treacle tart with crème fraiche on the a la carte catching my eye. Can I just point out, I frigging love treacle tart. I’ve eaten it everywhere. I’ve made my own for the supper club a number of times to some acclaim. Believe me, I know what’s what when it comes to this particular dessert. The treacle tart I ate at Arbutus was by far the best I’ve ever eaten, anywhere. Warm, just set, softly oozing sweetness on a beautifully crisp pastry base. As that first spoonful entered my willing gob and spread itself luxuriously across my tongue I was pinned to the seat, transfixed, radiating love for this dessert. It’s something of an understatement to say I thought it was pretty f*cking good.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The bill, two set courses and an a la carte dessert and a couple of glasses of red, including tip £38. Which believe me when I tell you, is an absolute frigging bargain. The food, all of it, was just faultless, that steak tartare and the phenomenal treacle tart both vying for the best things I’ve stuck in my mouth this year. Add to this service which was at once friendly, pleasant, cheerful and entirely lacking any pretension and you have a near perfect lunch experience.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I absolutely loved it.</span><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Arbutus</span></i></b><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">63 — 64 Frith Street</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">London</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">W1D 3JW</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Telephone: 020 7734 4545</span></i><br />
<a href="http://www.arbutusrestaurant.co.uk/"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">http://www.arbutusrestaurant.co.uk</span></i></a>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-229199748397559592013-11-09T09:35:00.000+00:002013-11-09T09:35:09.269+00:00Beef Rib Trim Stew with Stout, Treacle and Star Anise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The damp, cold, dark evenings of autumn bring about an almost overnight change in my food cravings. I suddenly demand the comfort of mashed potato (I am an unrepentant mash fiend) and I want it accompanied by any kind of dark, sticky, rich meat stew I can lay my greedy little paws on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I made this stew the other night for dinner. To be honest, I’d forgotten how incredibly easy it is to chuck something like this together. Yeah there’s a bit of chopping, a bit of prep, but I actually quite enjoy the methodical nature of getting your ingredients ready. I find it almost calming. I also reckon part of the enjoyment is definitely having the right tools for the job, a decent peeler and a nice sharp knife. If instead of a smooth slicing action, you’re frustratingly hacking away at something with a blunt as assholes blade, then where’s the frigging Zen in that? Once your chopping is done, the actual hands-on cooking part takes no time at all. It’s just a case of slinging it in the oven and forgetting about it for a couple of hours.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You may not be able to easily lay your hands on beef rib trim. The butchers, Donald Russell sent me some ages ago and it’s been lurking at the back of my freezer. If not don’t worry, substitute for beef shin or stewing steak. You can use any braising or casserole type cut of beef, cubed really. They all work the same, more or less. You may just have to cook it a bit longer, which in the case of a stew is no real effort at all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The addition of star anise to beef is something I once saw Heston Blumenthal banging on about on TV. It may seem ridiculously cheffy and frivolous, but it definitely works. It’s bloody lovely. Don’t be a chump and go leaving it out </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For full rib sticking effect, I suggest serving this with mash (my recipe is <a href="http://essexeating.blogspot.co.uk/2012/06/slow-roast-shoulder-of-pork-in-cider.html" target="_blank">here</a> and it’s banging, even if I do say so myself) and some kind of sautéed greens. Oh, and if you’re a real greedy bastard, some crusty bread slathered with butter to mop up with. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u><i>Beef Rib Trim Stew</i></u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Serves 2 (Generously)</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>You’ll Need: -</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>500g beef rib trim (Or beef shin) cut into 3cm cubes</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Maldon Sea Salt</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Pepper</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Olive Oil</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Tomato purée</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>2 large carrots, peeled, halved lengthways, sliced into 6cm pieces</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>2 sticks celery, chopped</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>1 Large onion, chopped</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Half a leek, chopped</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>2 Bay Leaves</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>1 Tbsp Treacle</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Bottle of dark beer or stout (I used Wild Beer Co, Wildebeest)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>500ml – 1 litre Beef Stock</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>1 Star Anise</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Handful Chestnut Mushrooms, halved</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Handful of Parsley, finely chopped</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Preheat your oven to 160C</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Get a large saucepan or casserole with a lid, put it on the hob over a fairly high heat and add a tablespoon or two of olive oil.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Season your cubed beef generously and get it nice and browned in the pan. You may have to do it in a couple of batches, if you crowd it, instead of getting a nice golden sear, the meat kind of steams and you don’t want that, no.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Remove the meat from the pan with a slotted spoon and put to one side. Add the carrots, onion, leek a grind of pepper and a good pinch of salt. Cook for 5 minutes, stirring regularly until it’s starting to cook down and brown. You may need to add a little more oil.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sling in the mushrooms and bay leaves. Cook for another couple of minutes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Add the tomato purée, stir it in so everything’s coated and cook for a couple more minutes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Add the beef back in, along with the star anise and the treacle, stir and then pour in your bottle of stout. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then add beef stock to cover. If you have it, use proper beef stock, if you don’t, make some up with an Oxo cube. Lets not be snobby about it. Use what you can lay your hands on; it’ll still taste great.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bring to the boil; whack the lid on and place in the preheated oven for 1 ½ - 2 hours until the meat is tender and breaks apart when poked with a fork and the whole thing is looking pretty damn dark, sticky and gelatinous.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Heap into bowls, scatter with finely chopped parsley, mashed potato, sautéed greens and a good dusting of white pepper. </span></div>
Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-91349608884222297292013-10-30T20:12:00.002+00:002013-10-30T20:12:34.454+00:00Allium Brasserie - Bath<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I first moved to Bristol, its proximity to the rather beautiful city of Bath astounded me. I had no idea it was so close. I mean, I can almost throw a stone out of my living room window and hit it. OK, slight exaggeration but it’s just a 20-minute train journey away. As a result, I've spent a fair bit of my spare time wandering the splendid Georgian streets, gawping at the architecture and generally being a general nuisance to the residents as they walk into the back of me. Those tourists, entirely oblivious to their surroundings, fouling up the pavement flow and blocking doorways, the ones I used to glare hatefully at when I worked in London all those years? Yeah, in Bath I become one of them. That’s why I won’t be begrudging any gentle, educational pummellings that may come my way from the frustrated locals. I almost certainly deserve it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, apart from beautiful buildings and dumbass tourists, Bath also has some rather cracking restaurants. There’s one in particular I like, right in the centre, Allium.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The head chef, Chris Staines, formerly held a Michelin star at Foliage in the Mandarin Oriental hotel in London (where Heston’s Dinner is now). He has fairly recently made a move to Bath, achieving some rather impressive reviews from national newspaper reviewers, including <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2013/jan/06/restaurant-review-allium-brasserie-bath" target="_blank">Jay Rayner</a> of The Observer and <a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/food-and-drink/reviews/review-allium-best-western-abbey-hotel-north-parade-bath-8542426.html" target="_blank">John Walsh</a> in the Independent. As such, it’s hard to believe the restaurant is located in a Best Western hotel, but it is and it’s cracking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">OK, to be fair the dining room is maybe lacking a certain something; hotel dining rooms nearly always seem to have a corporate feel about them, but the views of Bath and the surrounding hills are cracking and it’s pleasant enough despite being a bit ‘hotel’ but then, I guess that’s exactly what it is.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The food however, is what it’s all about, much as I would love to spout alles uber da platz on interior design.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Eating from the set lunch menu, the descriptions have been quite obviously underplayed, each dish that emerged, surpassing any expectation I had and actually surprising me with how the listed elements had been put together on a plate. Also, I have to mention the seriously beautiful plating and presentation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, refined gentleman that I am, to begin, I stuffed a whole load of excellent rye sourdough bread, baked on site and heavily smeared with butter while delicately quaffing some plonk.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lunch partner, Elly had chosen lightly smoked mackerel rillettes, potato blinis, pickled cucumber, apple and watercress salad as a starter. She reckons it as being one of the nicest things she’s eaten in ages. The contrast in textures and flavours of the creamy mackerel rillettes, crisp potato blinis (which turned out to be crisp-like very thin slices of potato), sharp pickled cucumber and cold apple was absolutely gorgeous.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My pressed terrine of chicken ‘Coronation’, lightly curried mayonnaise, pickled carrots and mango was equally bloody delicious. I have a real soft spot for coronation chicken and this play on a classic was lovely.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s hard to believe that a dish like poached fillet of haddock, roast parsnip puree, lightly curried mussel and autumn vegetable ragu features on the set menu. It was so astoundingly good and the portion was whopping. Often you can see where the kitchen has trimmed costs, either in ingredients or size, but I’d have been happy with this off the a la carte. A beautifully cooked piece of fish, crowned with a pile of parsnip crisps with the rich vegetable ragu. Banging.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Meanwhile, Elly had also gone for fish, pan fried pollock, crushed new potatoes, red pepper coulis and black olive tapenade. As with my main, the fish was superbly cooked. Pollock itself isn't the strongest flavoured of fish so worked really well combined with the punchiness of the red pepper coulis and black olive tapenade.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As you are no doubt well aware, I’m an unapologetically greedy bastard and ordered dessert without question. Elly who had an afternoon tea and cake appointment elsewhere, declined, foolishly as it turns out. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZqngcFXNW1ZOZnjVXE9siPIPKLG7XwgGMaiR79VWTlJ5oWL0KztQEjcHIKcyOzl_7tZTvvXiwKXuZmlu9wLosYR2nr-wyG5_DSXtTs_19xJojtUZEzgPq5rdKOZOTADtBfninWQDx30ZP/s1600/DSC_0077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZqngcFXNW1ZOZnjVXE9siPIPKLG7XwgGMaiR79VWTlJ5oWL0KztQEjcHIKcyOzl_7tZTvvXiwKXuZmlu9wLosYR2nr-wyG5_DSXtTs_19xJojtUZEzgPq5rdKOZOTADtBfninWQDx30ZP/s320/DSC_0077.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lightly poached plums with vanilla creamed rice, sugared almonds, mint syrup and plum sorbet was frigging sublime. The rice, served cold, had a hefty vanilla kick and worked incredibly well with the fruit, plum sorbet and the mint. The sugared almonds throwing a bit of crunch into the mix. Honestly, I thought this was a phenomenal dessert.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, how much for three courses of faultless cooking, which is so beautiful to look at it almost feels like a crime to eat it? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">£21</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yeah, that’s right, the set menu is an absolute steal. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The a la carte, however is obviously much pricier, and I'm now seriously intrigued, so I may give that a go next time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had a stonking lunch at Allium, in fact it was one of the nicest lunches I've had in ages, this despite due to a wedding reception being held in the restaurant, it meant having one of the worst tables in the place. It just didn't put a dent in it at all, the food and the service were top drawer and I couldn't have been happier.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you’re in Bath, eat here.</span><br />
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<i><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Allium</span></b></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Best Western Abbey Hotel</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">North Parade</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">BA1 1LF</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Telephone: 01225 805245</span></i><br />
<a href="http://www.abbeyhotelbath.co.uk/allium-brasserie"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">http://www.abbeyhotelbath.co.uk/allium-brasserie</span></i></a>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-58132203981346937042013-10-22T21:20:00.000+01:002013-10-22T21:20:25.614+01:00Smoked Duck Breast Salad<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-xcKWNGW8d7685eUPxvA73gq4lAZfO8avHrbsigzu65cAokwUaoA1AOBSOp7rUWu1IzItljmw3GPWd6N8PaCOSdRD6zuQMD5hD4HWm4jqaifBsWzlA4XOs1G-GozYTJl8xnhFxREYbdcN/s1600/IMG_2272.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-xcKWNGW8d7685eUPxvA73gq4lAZfO8avHrbsigzu65cAokwUaoA1AOBSOp7rUWu1IzItljmw3GPWd6N8PaCOSdRD6zuQMD5hD4HWm4jqaifBsWzlA4XOs1G-GozYTJl8xnhFxREYbdcN/s320/IMG_2272.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On the rare occasion I've made no dinner plans of any sort, there’s a pretty good chance I can take a cheeky throw of the culinary dice and gamble I can knock something half decent together from what’s lurking in the fridge. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s full of all sorts of disparate ingredients including a whole shelf full of various, often esoteric, half used condiments and odd bits of veg and herbs in various states of usefulness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Often the resulting dish may be functional at best, but every now and again I surprise myself and manage to throw something together that’s a bit more impressive. This smoked duck breast salad I cooked the other night was one such occasion.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you don’t have one, I urge you to get your hands on a good, heavy grill pan. I've got a Le Creuset one and I frigging love it. Yep, it was expensive but I've had it for years and consider it an investment. Almost everything tastes better chargrilled with smoky, black lines etched across it, I use it all the time. True, its use is guaranteed to set the smoke alarm off, but what the hell. In the case of this recipe, I used it to char little gem lettuce and spring onions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I used smoked duck breast from Trealy Farm and I've got to say it’s an absolutely superb product, but if you can’t lay your hands on any, you can get something similar in most large supermarkets. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Remember when I mentioned esoteric condiments? I present to you hawthorn jelly. If you haven’t got any, it makes no difference, use redcurrant, cranberry, blackcurrant or even blackberry jam, whatever comes to hand really. Any of these would go with duck. </span><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Smoked Duck Breast Salad</span></i></b><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Serves 2</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1 x smoked duck breast, sliced </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2 x little gem, halved lengthways</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6 x spring onions, washed and top ends trimmed, leave the root end on.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Handful of new potatoes</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tbs Capers</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2 tsp Hawthorn jelly</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Olive Oil</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maldon Sea Salt & ground black pepper</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2 Eggs, soft boiled and shelled.</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There’s not a hell of a lot of cooking involved here to be honest, the duck breast comes already cooked, so just needs slicing. It’s more a case of assemblage.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Add the new potatoes to a pan of cold, salted water. Bring to the boil and simmer for around 12 minutes or until cooked. Drain and put to one side.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Get your grill pan nice and hot then brush the halved little gem and the spring onions with some olive oil and char for around 3 minutes a side till you’ve got some impressive looking lines scorched on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Put your hawthorn jelly or whatever condiment you’ve found lurking at the back of the fridge, into a small frying pan with the capers and a good splash of the caper juice. Heat it over a moderate heat, stirring for a few minutes until it’s melted down into liquid.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Soft boil two eggs, shell and halve.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Assemble however you think appropriate. I reckon the potatoes at the bottom, with slices of duck breast artfully draped over, with the charred little gem and spring onions protruding here and there, plonk the halved soft boiled egg in the middle and drizzle the hawthorn-caper dressing alles uber da platz. Don’t forget to season with the Essex salt and black pepper.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And that’s that. Easy.</span>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-38232784945134902842013-10-10T19:04:00.003+01:002013-10-10T19:04:39.048+01:00Upstairs at The Ten Bells - London<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ve wanted to eat at Upstairs at The Ten Bells for bloody ages but to be honest; I’d begun to think I’d missed the boat on it. ‘<a href="http://youngturks.co/" target="_blank">Young Turk</a>’, Issac Mchale has since gone on to open much lauded sister restaurant, The Clove Club just down the road in Shoreditch and much of the current food mob focus appears to be fixed firmly there. But recently, whilst perusing a friend’s <a href="http://www.rocketandsquash.com/upstairs-again-at-the-ten-bells/" target="_blank">rather excellent blog</a>, he had written a post about how he’d just revisited The Ten Bells for lunch and how stonking it still was. I didn't need any further encouragement.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In a former life, before my move to Bristol, I worked in London for the best part of twenty years and I’ve always been fascinated by the history of the city. The Ten Bells pub itself is a bit of a fave due to the Jack the Ripper connection (At least two of his unfortunate victims are supposed to have been regulars at the pub, the immediate area at that time being notorious for prostitution). The downstairs bar area is relatively untouched from this period with original Victorian tiling and a mural decorating the walls (Yes. I can be that boring). Nowadays, despite being a popular pub with both the after work suited crowd and the hipsters; it’s still surprisingly atmospheric. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ve drunk in there a fair bit over the years, and often wondered what’s up the gloomy, looking wooden stairs at the back corner of the bar. Now I know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Taking the last step with my regular panache and turning smartly on my heel, through the doorway into the restaurant I was immediately struck by just how beautiful the dining room is. The space, flooded with afternoon sunlight playing over the worn, gnarled and knackered floorboards, stripped back walls and woodwork, has real character. Here and there, just to bring everything bang up to date, all this cool shabbyness is punctuated with glaringly modern neon, a piece on the opposite wall to me spelling out ‘Keep me safe’. Definitely a sentiment I can appreciate.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was meeting a mate and finding her already seated, we started as we meant to go on and cracked straight into a couple of G&Ts, to get the old digestion process kick-started. Purely medicinal, you understand. Sipping commenced; I considered the menu, which at lunchtime is of the short, set variety.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The ‘Snacks’ section stands apart from the set menu with regards to moolah and contains some very interesting items, the buttermilk chicken & pine salt being a bit of a signature dish. We’re both unashamedly greedy bastards, so we immediately agreed to order one of everything.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzlFugN6Z4KejSOfW8CzbfUqbN49kFU58PdjPXMTnf4ytYz7IKUkqK9YlDGjV189XGhgUYFLS3IhcV1exypoXaaZaMyqlHK8J1cf59o7A8Wk3lXsN-Ygy_L_nWU7QHPAsAPVUrLfM6bLS9/s1600/DSC_0124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzlFugN6Z4KejSOfW8CzbfUqbN49kFU58PdjPXMTnf4ytYz7IKUkqK9YlDGjV189XGhgUYFLS3IhcV1exypoXaaZaMyqlHK8J1cf59o7A8Wk3lXsN-Ygy_L_nWU7QHPAsAPVUrLfM6bLS9/s320/DSC_0124.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Razor clam and grapefruit sauce vierge, chopped, mixed and arranged in the shell was a perfect way to get started. Delicious, fresh and sharp. As these were only three quid, we had one each.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Digging into the shared bowl of grilled leeks, Westcombe fonduta & flax seeds, I mused silently to myself on the pretentiousness of the term fonduta. I’ve never heard of this apparently slick, Flash-Harry relative of plain old fondue, but here it was, dripping sexily off the end of my charred baby leek and I was eating it all and not only that, I was mopping up the remnants with bits of bread. Ridiculous. By the way, I ate the rooty sprouty bits of the leeks as well, not entirely sure if you should or not, but I’ll stick anything in my gob given half a chance.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvIlj53XoyB8hwlXa0VL3DK1H_JF-Fo3GstgfI6ef4O3AVWEE2zRlggizrS2at8TB2DTX1VBQ3FlcIC1XxdE2Sup1QK-tRM36dOy82ATgZC7rxhXSWbKfuQvYAN0BplaMf47QP3RsC-qya/s1600/DSC_0134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvIlj53XoyB8hwlXa0VL3DK1H_JF-Fo3GstgfI6ef4O3AVWEE2zRlggizrS2at8TB2DTX1VBQ3FlcIC1XxdE2Sup1QK-tRM36dOy82ATgZC7rxhXSWbKfuQvYAN0BplaMf47QP3RsC-qya/s320/DSC_0134.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally, the famous buttermilk chicken and pine salt. A dish I’ve ooohed and aaaahed over a hundred times on Instagram. Yeah. It is as good as I hoped. Beautifully moist and subtly pine tinged. Well worth £6.50 of anyone’s cash. I’m an older, wiser diner nowadays, so I resisted the urge to try and tuck into the bed of pine branches the chicken was artfully arranged on. You may laugh, but about five years ago, I spent some time in a restaurant gamely chewing tough seed like items from a glass bowl of before realising it was the inedible base decoration underneath the actual dish. I’m ashamed to say I’d eaten a handful of them. So, if I’m in your restaurant, never give me a plate with decorative props on it, there’s a 50/50 chance I’ll eat ‘em.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiapufB0uChNf9Wp6PFERlRieTYYkw6sVuowlVY7FjHqm5BkLlIx4uz2nDIPnV4BOMulFVkuhpUIhfy97iKlbP-BniVF_h-ns4dJKAK5ZaMgu0lKwDY-9SdedjI6K5ttVOONmbmZdxkg340/s1600/DSC_0145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiapufB0uChNf9Wp6PFERlRieTYYkw6sVuowlVY7FjHqm5BkLlIx4uz2nDIPnV4BOMulFVkuhpUIhfy97iKlbP-BniVF_h-ns4dJKAK5ZaMgu0lKwDY-9SdedjI6K5ttVOONmbmZdxkg340/s320/DSC_0145.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A starter of wild mushroom veloute, Jerusalem artichoke and quail’s egg was a bit less impressive. Don’t get me wrong, it was nice and a decent enough transition to the main event but it lacked the ‘sit up and take notice’ quality that the snacks had. The quails egg was perhaps just a bit overcooked so rather than starbursting it’s yolk into the surrounding soup as I viciously hacked into it, it just kind of sunk without trace, taking it’s egg yolk cargo to the bottom in two halves. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN_8hIzZ7d97TjdheU1YSHAsmfIcoHi_fDlL4IQeuOGMSF01mn5mbJdRlkc6nB1oeTI4HhWz6rl7tpBolzokvDV2yl39jpbiuiu6YxemF3gOPHi-abF5dEZwGzg2lOfRh-YZBtrFEJsqev/s1600/DSC_0156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN_8hIzZ7d97TjdheU1YSHAsmfIcoHi_fDlL4IQeuOGMSF01mn5mbJdRlkc6nB1oeTI4HhWz6rl7tpBolzokvDV2yl39jpbiuiu6YxemF3gOPHi-abF5dEZwGzg2lOfRh-YZBtrFEJsqev/s320/DSC_0156.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cornish Hake, Broccoli, Bagna Cauda and Barley Porridge however, was superb. Take a look at that photo. What a beautiful plate of food. The fish was spot on, and the subtle flavours on the plate all pulled together. Lovely.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My lunch partner meanwhile was demolishing roast venison haunch, parsley root puree and red kale and wasted no time in telling me how incredible it was and subsequently how much better it was than my choice. I tried a bit, and she may just have had a point. Yeah, thanks for that, Audrey</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A plate of figs, honey & thyme ice cream, crème fraiche and pastry flakes was also delicious. The only minor niggle being that the ice cream was already melting as the plates hit the table, but still, I was well happy anyway and scraped the plate.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I liked Upstairs at The Ten Bells a hell of a lot. I’m really glad I finally made it. It’s a beautiful room and the cooking itself is spot on but also really interesting, and I mean that in the nicest way. If you eat out often, you see the same dishes again and again, but they are really pushing it in this kitchen and doing something different (Hello fonduta! Just kidding). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I should add the service was particularly excellent, the waiters being really knowledgeable, both about the menu and its preparation and also the wine list.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The set lunch menu is a steal at £21 for three courses, but my bill, which included half of all the snacks, a gin & tonic, two glasses of wine and a tip came to a rather weightier £50.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Worth every penny.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Upstairs at The Ten Bells</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>84 Commercial Street</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>London</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>E1 6LY</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Telephone: 020 7366 1721</i></span><br />
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<i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.tenbells.com/">www.tenbells.com</a></i>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-65816201724550870772013-09-17T17:25:00.000+01:002013-09-18T20:29:03.221+01:00Bone Daddies - London<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdn_tGLQkG-WvVpx4WmDpCpkOKCqfhgVUPM3TAD2jX751kZ2qnqlR6mxzT6zmjh0ufd0dMGnBUoUldEi4F297noLkK3X4kctOB8LHynWked63CKiJCLRyy6_fD7ThmZt-ivHyGhoC8X9z/s1600/DSC_0095+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdn_tGLQkG-WvVpx4WmDpCpkOKCqfhgVUPM3TAD2jX751kZ2qnqlR6mxzT6zmjh0ufd0dMGnBUoUldEi4F297noLkK3X4kctOB8LHynWked63CKiJCLRyy6_fD7ThmZt-ivHyGhoC8X9z/s320/DSC_0095+copy.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s hard to cast your mind back and remember exactly where you first heard of something, now seemingly quite familiar, but my very first encounter with ramen, many years ago, was in Thurrock Costco and it was the cheapest, bargain basement variety you could find, a plastic foil lidded pot containing noodles and some dust dry powder, just add boiling water. I thought it was the American knock off version of a pot noodle, which in fact, I suppose it was and that’s how things remained, fixed in my brain for quite a long time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then, a couple of years ago the Momofuku restaurant cookbook helped ramen once again shoulder its way into my consciousness. This was the real deal as served in the trendy New York restaurant and inspired by American Chef, David Chang’s time in Japan (ramen is a Japanese noodle dish, served in a broth, usually meat based). I was fascinated, it looked absolutely frigging delicious.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As is often the way, it wasn’t long before a few ramen joints started popping up in London with the intriguingly named Bone Daddies a clear favourite with just about everyone I know in London. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, I know I’m a bit late to the party, Bone Daddies having been reviewed and loved to death already, alles uber da platz, but I don’t give a f*ck, I live in Bristol now, I don’t get back to London as often as I’d like. I ate there last week, I thought it was awesome, I’m going to write about it. Yeah.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rocking up to the restaurant in Soho at about 9pm, I was initially disheartened to see through the windows that it was banged out inside and that there was a queue outside. Operating a no booking policy can be an utter ballache for the terminally organised and a gift from God for lazy bastards. Luckily a supermarket just down the road provided cheap alcoholic refreshment, which made the short wait for a space unsurprisingly bearable. In the end, it was no more than 15 minutes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally inside, Bone Daddies was dimly lit, loud and extremely busy. Squeezing unsteadily up onto a stall (we’d been for a few drinks previously, obvs.) my mate Liz and I agreed to share a couple of snack size plates before cracking into a bowl of ramen each.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Chasu pork and corn croquettes were as you’d expect crispy exterior, squishy meaty interior, what’s not to like?. Chasu pork in case you were wondering (I was) is pork belly that has been marinated in soy and spices, and then braised. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDlZmqnoAUqDb2mEaEvQWToJrMP42Bf6H0kjgOvFjxlezeFW5ZAI1CgciW6Faq8hkc1qhGBVjTlKBEVlUfV8tttHvPMq64GDvjPEyEYcmw0SN6ORqHaK-4wr1cRkqfM5LdVbGt6kvUDyRu/s1600/DSC_0011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDlZmqnoAUqDb2mEaEvQWToJrMP42Bf6H0kjgOvFjxlezeFW5ZAI1CgciW6Faq8hkc1qhGBVjTlKBEVlUfV8tttHvPMq64GDvjPEyEYcmw0SN6ORqHaK-4wr1cRkqfM5LdVbGt6kvUDyRu/s320/DSC_0011.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Soft shell crab with green chilli ginger sauce was something else entirely. This blew me away, seriously amazing. Deep fried with the most intense, fresh tasting chilli and ginger sauce. I bloody loved it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At this point, with time to kill whilst waiting for the rest of dinner, our attention turned to the table setting, some of it surprisingly mysterious. A pot of chilli sauce (very poky), soy, something in a grinder (turns out it was sesame seeds), bibs (we availed ourselves of these, despite looking decidedly unhip) and a mysterious jar of rubber bands (turns out these are hair bands so the luxuriously coiffured don’t get their lustrous locks dunked in their food). Fair play.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our game of ‘guess what the hell’s that for’ was at this point interrupted by two steaming bowls of ramen. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7wS8gmcJd7IGYO58VY8BRdrkeWarZsEO9JaXnUL7ZEdKruhqXNlkvucszgiPhgPyfjfSZH-t0IPvAS14s10jzg6U7US4g9RjoLyeBHzPwp3JN-g8KZCCGhuYBxyJE9QY1jIsX8BUiCzQ/s1600/DSC_0022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7wS8gmcJd7IGYO58VY8BRdrkeWarZsEO9JaXnUL7ZEdKruhqXNlkvucszgiPhgPyfjfSZH-t0IPvAS14s10jzg6U7US4g9RjoLyeBHzPwp3JN-g8KZCCGhuYBxyJE9QY1jIsX8BUiCzQ/s320/DSC_0022.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Liz had ordered the Tonkotsu variety, containing spring onion, slices of the aforementioned choshu pork, a halved soft-boiled egg and various other bits and bobs, all merrily suspended in a 20 hour, pork bone broth. I’m no ramen expert but bloody hell, I tried a bit and it was ridiculously fine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Meanwhile, I was slurping away at a bowl of Tantanmen, which Wiki tells me isn’t actually ramen as such but a related, Chinese influenced noodle dish (based on Sichuan dan dan noodles) – how appropriate – and often served in Japanese ramen establishments. Consisting of a chicken bone broth containing sesame, chilli, pork mince, a soft-boiled egg and bok choy. Yeah it was amazing. Stupidly-drunkenly I added too much extra chilli from the little pot on the table. Spicy enough as it was, it blew my frigging head off, but it was so delicious, so intensely rich that despite the fact my nose was streaming from the heat, I couldn’t leave it alone for even a second and ate the whole lot.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Taking a second to look down and appraise my ramen spattered bib, I saluted my own good sense in favouring practicality over fashion sense. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We were both too full to eat anything else so slunk away into the neon night glare of Soho, stuffed and well pleased with dinner.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have no previous ramen experience to compare Bone Daddies against, I can’t tell you how authentic or inauthentic it is, all I can go on is how good it tasted and in that regard, it was bloody fantastic. Seriously good. Honestly, I want to go back and order everything on the menu, just to experience what’s on offer. It’s wasn’t even that expensive, if I remember right (things were a little hazy by the end) my half of the bill was £25</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks for everyone who recommended Bone Daddies to me. They were right and now I'm recommending it to you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><b>Bone Daddies</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>31 Peter Street</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>London</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>W1F 0AR</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Telephone: 020 7287 8581</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://bonedaddiesramen.com/"><i>http://bonedaddiesramen.com</i></a></span><br />
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Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376945012109352112.post-21873561082490435962013-09-11T22:53:00.001+01:002013-09-11T22:53:26.874+01:00Le Champignon Sauvage - Cheltenham<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've got a wish list of restaurants relentlessly processing through my brain, an organ that, lets face it, can ill afford any of its limited resources to be used up in such a frivolous fashion. Nevertheless it’s there *slaps forehead to emphasise* and it’s constantly changing and evolving as my tastes change, restaurants close and new restaurants open. But for the past couple of years, two Michelin starred, Le Champignon Sauvage in nearby (ish) Cheltenham has featured prominently in my noggin and finally, last week, I ate there. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Chef and owner, David Everitt-Matthias is often described as a ‘Chef’s Chef’ which basically means he’s a serious grafter, always to be found cooking in the restaurant’s kitchen, in fact, famously he’s never missed a service in twenty five years, if he’s not there Le Champignon Sauvage is not open. An amazing record in an industry, which is notorious for long hours, hard work and uncompromising attention to detail, especially at the two Michelin Star level. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last week, I had a rare day off work and although I haven’t quite been knocking my cods off non-stop for twenty-five years, I've been working pretty hard lately and reckoned I deserved a bit of a treat, so a solo lunch at Le Champignon Sauvage it was.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After arriving and being ushered to a sofa in the bar area I sipped a cheeky pre-meal gin and tonic whilst studying the menu, I decided to go for the three course set lunch.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">An amuse of a blue cheese and walnut cookie with rye crisp bread, smoked horseradish cream and pickled pear was placed in front of me and I was faced with something of a dilemma, as well as a beautiful looking piece of grub.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If I'm eating in a restaurant and planning to write about it, I do my utmost not to draw attention to myself. I take photographs as surreptitiously as I can and generally keep it low key. I want it to be as fair a write up as possible. But here I was in a hushed bar area with the manager and two staff standing just nearby with a dish I wanted to take a photo of just sitting there. In addition, Le Champignon Sauvage very specifically states on their menu ‘no mobile phones in the dining room’, which is fair enough. How would they feel about me whipping out my massive (yeah) Nikon?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Honestly. I sat there and agonised about this for a good five minutes, my food untouched in front of me before deciding to deal with the situation head on, I asked if they minded if I took a photo. ‘Not at all’. Phew.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The blue cheese and walnut cookie was delicious by the way, the incredibly short savoury pastry, filled with a fresh blue cheese cream. The accompanying rye crisp bread with smoked horseradish cream and pickled pear was equally delicious and looked almost too beautiful to eat, right up to the point I shoved the lot in my gob.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shown to my table, I was offered a selection of bread rolls but they had me hooked instantly with the bacon and shallot brioche, which was frankly incredible. Seriously, some of the best bread I’ve ever eaten, (easily as good as the Ledbury’s) beautifully textured and sweet with both the saltiness of the bacon and a subtle shallot flavour throughout. Later I tried some of the other rolls proffered, just in the interest of being a greedy bastard and it’s fair to say they were all bloody nice. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A second amuse followed, Jerusalem artichoke panacotta with field mushroom puree and smoked bacon foam, and I made pretty short work of it. It was surprisingly refreshing with the smooth, savoury, earthy flavours of the panacotta and the salty smokiness of the bacon foam. Lovely.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My first course proper, duck confit, crispy egg yolk, fig purée and pak choi, was beautifully plated. I sat there for some moments, just admiring the composition before wading in. The combination of rich duck confit with the sweetness of the fig and the fresh green crunch of the pak choi was superb. The crispy egg yolk was interesting in a cheffy, technical kind of way and rather pleasant to dip bits of confit into.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lamb fillet with poached apricot, aubergine, garlic yoghurt and Moroccan spiced sauce…where have you been all my life? I just can’t believe this dish is on the set lunch menu, it was phenomenal. Seriously one of the best plates of food I’ve eaten anywhere. I don’t even know where to begin; the lamb was so tender and there was so much of it! The sweet dots of poached apricot and the subtly spiced sauce, just amazing. I ate every last bit, meticulously scraping my plate back into a pristine state.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was starting to feel a little stuffed at this point, but I was enjoying this lunch a hell of a lot.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A pre-dessert of rice pudding, greengage compote and milk foam was probably the most conventional tasting thing I ate. Don’t get me wrong; it was delicious but just not quite as impressive as any of the previous courses.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, chocolate delice with milk ice cream, buerre noisette and butterscotch was off the frigging chart. I don’t think I need to describe it to you, the photo says it all. It was just lovely.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you go, definitely order coffee and petits fours. It’ll be the best £3.50 you've ever spent. What arrived was a slab of treats, to say it was generous doesn't</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> quite do it justice. I couldn't</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> believe it. Ridiculous and all of them threw me slightly. Some looked quite conventional, but each had a hint of some unusual flavour twist. Yes. Of course I ate all of them and pretty much waddled out of the restaurant as a result. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, do not wait two years like I did. Go and eat at Le Champignon Sauvage as soon as you can. I promise you will not regret it. My bill, including a gin and tonic, two glasses of wine, three courses (with additional bits and bobs), a £5 supplement for switching to an a la carte dessert, petits four and coffee but not including a tip came to £56 That’s right, FIFTY SIX QUID!! That’s for one of the best lunches I've ever had, at a two Michelin starred restaurant with a chef in the kitchen who’s right at the top of his game. I don’t want to lower the tone, but of course, being me, I shall. WTF?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seriously. Go and enjoy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Le Champignon Sauvage</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>24-28 Suffolk Road</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Cheltenham</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Gloucestershire</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>GL50 2AQ</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Telephone: 01242 573449</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><a href="http://www.lechampignonsauvage.co.uk/">http://www.lechampignonsauvage.co.uk</a></i></span>Danhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04111357339779405801noreply@blogger.com7