Bar-B-Q Shack - Brighton

BBQ is absolutely scorching hot at the moment, but not in the sense of that very British, back garden gathering. All cheap rickety white plastic furniture, Chernobyl raw sunburn, warm metallic dregs from a can of Stella, the steaming heap of carbonised burgers and the chancy half cooked salmonella sausages. All consumed within a raw haze of B&H smoke and washed down with a cocktail of Pimms and culinary disappointment. No. Forget all that.

It’s ‘American style’ BBQ that’s giving everyone the raging horn (a hopeless generalisation perhaps, there are a number of different styles of BBQ in the states), but I’m thinking US staples such as ribs, pulled pork and brisket smoked at low temperatures for hours until moist, almost falling apart and possibly basted in something unlikely, homemade and sticky… poles apart from your standard cremated British banger basically.

Bear with me – let’s rewind a year.

Last July, a piece in The Guardian by Jay Rayner had caught my eye. It was a review of the Bar-B-Q shack in Brighton. To cut a long story short, an old, sticky carpeted pub, situated in what could be generously described as the arse end of town was serving amazing American BBQ. The chef, John Hargate had honed his skills in Texas, and had subsequently won all kinds of Championships and awards. Jay reckoned it was the daddy. I was sold and vowed whenever I was next in Brighton, the first place I’d be dragging my greedy arse was there.

Back to the present (or to be really pedantic, last week). Barely stepping off the train at Brighton station and me instantly heading off, like a meat-seeking missile to the Bar-B-Q shack, ‘E’ trailing in my wake, with me vigorously assuring her that ‘yes, they cater for vegetarians too’.

The Worlds End is a pub in Brighton’s London Road. Entirely unremarkable from the outside, it looks like almost any other boozer in the UK. The darkened wood panelled interior doesn’t do anything to change this assumption, but ignore all that. It’s the menu that’s exciting.

Texas style beef brisket, North Carolina pulled pork, Texas Hill Country hot link hot dogs, ribs, hot wings…on and on it continues. I was caught in a horrifying menu choice dilemma and didn’t know where to start first. I didn’t want to miss out on anything. There was a definite air of grim determination about me as I studied the menu, rolling my eyes tortuously and working through every possible permutation, muttering quickly and quietly to myself, like a fat Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man.

At this point my eye lit upon the dinner plate section, up to 6 meats, with fries, onion rings, salad garnish, pickles, jalapeños and BBQ sauces.

Come to papa.

Deciding that ordering more than 3 meats would be particularly gluttonous, even for me, I spent the next ten minutes whittling my choices down in an absolutely agonising fashion. Eventually settling on Beef Brisket, Pulled Pork and Ribs.

‘E’ meanwhile, ordering from the understandably far more compact ‘Bad Hunter’ section of the menu, quickly decided on a Vegetarian Chilli Cheese Dog.

Now lets just throw some information out there. I’ve been to America just once. New York and I didn’t eat any BBQ whatsoever whilst there. However, I’ve eaten enough UK approximations of it, particularly at the frankly amazing PittCue to be a fair judge of what’s what. And if that’s not qualification enough, I’m falling back on the ‘I know what I like’ defence.

My mound of meat arrived, and I spent a moment to orientate myself before digging in, onion rings yes, sticky glistening ribs, nice, the pulled pork underneath, yep, the beef brisket curled around the edge of the plate, in a slightly distressing ‘pinched off’ fashion errr…. check.

I’ve never eaten American style beef brisket before, so have no benchmark to really compare, but I have spent time dribbling over my keyboard and ogling food porn examples, and good old common sense tells me the dried out, flavourless strip of leatherette masquerading as beef on my plate wasn’t a good example. I was crestfallen.

However, pushing that aside, I perked up considerably when I discovered the pulled pork was very good, meaty and moist, just as it should be.

And then I tried the ribs. Now that’s what I’m talking about. My mood soared. Sublime, sticky, almost indecent. I gorged and slathered, ripped and licked. My face, my hands even my phone were covered in sauce and right then, at that moment, I couldn’t have given a shit. The Ribs rocked my world, almost cancelling out the disappointment of the brisket entirely.

Meanwhile, ‘E’s vegetarian hot chilli dog, wasn’t impressing the hell out of her. Fair enough, a veggie eating US style BBQ is almost asking to be shafted, and all credit to the Bar-B-Q shack for even throwing the ‘bad hunters’ a metaphorical bone. But it wasn’t great. The hot dog was a pain in the arse to eat, it fell apart instantly, and just generally didn't live up to it's billing on the menu.

On the side dish front, the coleslaw was a bit too full of mayonnaise for my liking; the ‘fries’ were more like chunky ‘steakhouse’ style chips and there wasn’t a jalapeño in sight. The onion rings however were great, as was the homemade BBQ sauce.

Not quiet what I expected then. In summary, a real mixed bag. The brisket was obviously awful, the side dishes apart from the onion rings, OK. But, tantalisingly the pulled pork was very good and the ribs were off the frigging chart amazing.

As an unrepentant meat eater, it could be argued vegetarians get what they deserve.

Maybe the Bar-B-Q Shack were having a bit of an off day, it happens. But based on my visit, I’d say definitely go for the ribs and the pulled pork. Avoid the brisket. There are some other intriguing items on the menu that I’ll be heading back to sample, next time I’m in town, particularly the Hot Link Hot Dogs and the Armadillo Egg.

Despite my gripes, I actually enjoyed what I ate, apart from one item *hard, cold stare at the brisket*. It wasn’t expensive, the portions were decent and I waddled out of there stuffed silly. At the end of the day, I’ve got to say it’s probably worth visiting just to eat the amazing ribs alone.

The Bar-B-Q Shack
World’s End
60-61 London Road,
Brighton,
BN1 4JE

Telephone: 01273 275757

Pitt Cue Co - London

The restaurant that everyone in London is seemingly raving about right now is Pitt Cue Co in Soho. Despite only being open since mid January, it’s already gained a massive following and there are regular reports of lengthy queues snaking down the road. As with the opening last year of the excellent José in Bermondsey and Ducksoup in Soho it seems that if they get it right, even very small places can generate huge interest.

Originally working out of a van located underneath Hungerford Bridge, to rave reviews, the Pitt Cue guys specialise in BBQ as only a red blooded, baseball capped American called Hank would recognise. No incinerated sausages, half cooked chicken or carbonised beef patties, which pass for BBQ in this country. This is the real deal. Think heaps of shredded pulled pork, meltingly tender beef brisket and ridiculously massive portions of sticky, smoky and unctuous ribs.

Regretfully, I never managed to eat at the van, but as soon as I heard they’d up scaled to a restaurant proper, I knew I had to get my ass down there and experience it for myself.

Allegedly seating just 30 but even this number of covers seems a little generous, from what I saw. With that many seated, it would mean eating your meal whilst sitting on a strangers lap with someone’s elbow lodged in your eye.

First off, I have to say I know pretty much sod all about proper American BBQ. I know what it consists of. I just haven’t eaten it. It pretty much doesn’t exist in this country. But over the years, I’ve listened to accounts from various individuals who have experienced the real deal in the US. Tales that have been invariably highly emotionally charged, misty eyed and awed which have left me with the distinct impression that my life is just a wasted empty husk until I’ve eaten some of it for myself.

I’d like to report, having now experienced proper BBQ at Pitt Cue, the hype is all true, my husk has been well and truly stuffed full of the meaty goodness and I’m a believer.

Sadly ‘E’ couldn’t accompany me on my ‘Road to Damascus’ proper BBQ conversion. Her Pescatarianism precludes eating all the good stuff, so she stayed at home to no doubt gnaw on some dry nuts and berries. Instead, I was accompanied by Niamh, a girl who definitely knows her way around a bit of pork and isn’t at all squeamish about gnawing on a meaty rib.

I’d heard some disconcerting reports of people queuing for over an hour to get in the door. There's a no reservation policy, and with the temperature plummeting to minus brass monkey, I planned on getting there for 5:45pm, a time I’d been assured by those in the know would almost guarantee a swift entry. Spot on – straight in through the busy upstairs bar, down the stairs to a packed but very bijou space. The smoky, meaty smells emanating from the kitchen had me drooling before I’d even looked at a menu.


Deciding that the already somewhat infamous Pickle Back would kick start the meal nicely, we quickly got stuck in. A shot of Bourbon, quickly followed up with a shot of pickling liquor. The raw alcohol burn instantly quenched with a savoury sweetness. It seems very odd to be knocking back pickling liquor, but it works amazingly well.


A couple of very decent cocktails later, (things are a little hazy on the booze front but I’m pretty sure I drank a Big Mac ‘n’ Rye and a New York Sour in quick succession), our food began to arrive.


First to arrive, the most amazing Beef Ribs, large and thick, dark and sticky. An absolute joy to eat; soft mouthfuls of meat tearing away with each effortless bite. The accompaniments of pickles, a nice sharp vinegar ‘slaw and a chunk of chargrilled bread to mop up with were spot on.


Meanwhile Niamh was demolishing a portion of St Louis pork ribs. We swapped plates half way through so we could try everything. If anything, the pork ribs were better than the beef. Even more sticky, tender and soft. Amazing.


At this point, I better mention the burnt end mash. I’m a total mash potato fiend. Whoever had the idea of covering it with the crispy off-cuts of meat and gravy deserves some kind of medal. Beautiful stuff.


A side order of smoked hot wings with pickled celery was very good, in fact they must have been pretty damn great as I’m not normally a big fan of chicken wings but I stuffed all of these in my gob in no time at all.


Deep fried crispy pickled shitake were another stupendously good side dish, beautiful crisp batter with a tangy moist mushroom inside, a great accompaniment to cut through all that meat.


We decided to share a bowl of rather fantastic sticky toffee pudding with bourbon salted caramel sauce and prune and Armagnac ice-cream, (yep, it was every bit as good as it sounds) and that was us, done.

With mains coming in at around £10 each, sides £3-£4 and cocktails £6, the bill, considering we’d both drunk three cocktails and ordered a fair bit of food came to around a very bargainous £40 each. Looking at the menu, it would be very easy to visit and easily spend less than £20 per person if you didn’t start hitting the booze hard. Considering the quality of the food, the prices are ridiculously cheap.


So, there it is. I loved Pitt Cue. There’s nowhere else serving food like this in London. Their American style BBQ is everything I’d heard it was and more. What else is there to say? Basically it’s frigging awesome. Yes the restaurant is crammed, busy and you may have to queue, but any trials encountered are well worth it to eat food like this as a reward. Go!

Pitt Cue Co

1 Newburgh Street
Soho
London
W1F 7RB

http://www.pittcue.co.uk

Two months in a Bristol kitchen (Or, why we are fat - Part 1)

I’ve lived with ‘E’ in Bristol for about two months now. We are both seriously into food, she owning a café and catering business and me writing this here food blog. As you’d expect the kitchen has seen a whirlwind of activity since we moved into our new home, which considering we are both from Essex has become a little part of the motherland in the South West.

So, what have we been cooking? – what happens when two food obsessed geeks co-habit?

Lets start the summer off with the premium Weber BBQ that I frigging won…yes WON! at the Grill Stock event held on Bristol’s harbourside in July. Tres impressive eh?
‘E’ and I wasted no time in firing it up. The first things we cooked on our new premium BBQ (Did I mention that I won it? As in – I WON IT?) were…Yoghurt marinated paneer flatbreads with charred shallots, rocket, piquillo peppers and a chilli and yoghurt sauce. Oh that's right, ‘E’ is a pescetarian so, sickeningly the first meal we cooked contained no meat. A crime against all that is holy in the BBQ world you might think, and you’d be right. Although it was bloody nice…but that’s beside the point.


BBQ event part deux was a much more elaborate affair involving a selection of side dishes, barbecued squid (which didn’t so much as BBQ with a satisfying chargrilled hiss as we expected, but whimpered and sweated a bit) the coals weren’t quite hot enough for our cephalopodic chum. Still it wasn’t bad when torn up and mixed with a lovely rocket and lemon salad.


Alongside the squid we served a chickpea, parsley and red onion salad and a baby gem, barbecued pepper and anchovy salad with a seriously garlicky dressing.


As if that wasn’t enough, we barbecued some corn on the cob (which took bloody ages by the way). In the spirit of frugality and thinking ourselves just a bit clever, we smothered it with a re-used herb and chilli infused butter lurking in the fridge (forgetting that it was also infused with anchovies). Bleurgh! Sweetcorn and anchovy – not a classic combination people, for good reason.

Sadly, just as we were getting into our BBQ stride, the British summer weather did what it does best, and started pissing it down for days on end. Obviously we like to cook seasonally, but it seems like we’ve had every season in one month. We went from summery salads to craving steaming hot stews and other wintery comfort food within the course of a week.

In times like this, there’s only one dish that satisfies these kinds of autumnal desires and it’s my old favourite Chickpea and Chorizo stew. But once again, hitting the buffers like a runaway meat train carrying an express delivery of 6 thousand tonnes of pork sausages – I slammed into ‘E’s pescatarian tendencies and derailed. But hey, lets not fight over spilt lentils man. I adapted my recipe and made a vegetarian version (sort of - ok, it has anchovies in it), which is cheaper, more healthy and tasted pretty much like the original. Win.


Adapted Chickpea and Chorizo Stew (With no Chorizo – but plus other stuff).

Serves 4-6

2 Handfuls mushrooms, thickly sliced
3 Salted anchovies - rinsed.
1 Medium Red Onion - chopped
1 Red Bell Pepper - deseeded and chopped
Olive Oil
2 Garlic Cloves - chopped
1 and a 1/2 Teaspoons dried Oregano
250g Passata
2x 400g Cans Chickpeas, drained with 75ml of the water reserved.
100ml Red Wine
500ml Vegetable Stock or water.
Hand Full of fresh flatleaf parsley chopped.
Black Pepper

Fry the anchovy, onion and bell pepper in a large saucepan over a fairly high heat until it begins to colour

Add the mushrooms and fry until brown, turn the heat down, and add the garlic and oregano and fry for a few more minutes. Add the passata, chickpeas. chickpea water, wine, stock and some pepper. Bring to the boil and simmer for 20 Mins. Add the roughly chopped parsley to serve.

We chargrilled some bread to serve on the side, but it’s also good with a heap of rice in the bottom of the bowl to stretch it out. Oh, and personally I like a load of white pepper on it. But ‘E’ hates it, although she is partial to a pint of sherry on the side.

And then, there was Yoghurt….
As a food blogger I often get sent stuff to try, and perhaps mention on this very blog. And thus, this is how the good people at Total sent me enough Greek yoghurt to fill a swimming pool. Making room in the fridge for this yoghurt bonanza meant we had room for pretty much nothing else, so we frantically racked our mungus brains for recipes to use up this dairy based bounty.

The Moro cookbook proved to be a happy hunting ground for appropriate recipes and two in particular looked like they’d use up a good few gallons of the white stuff.


First of all we tried a dish that had been recommended to us both, featuring the frankly weird and rather icky marriage of poached egg and yoghurt. Taking our first tentative forkfuls of ‘poached eggs with yoghurt, sage and chilli flakes’ no one was more surprised than us when it turned out to be frigging awesome. Dare I say, the best yoghurt and egg-based dish I’ve ever eaten, no really – it was amazingly good.


We also made a ‘Leek and yoghurt soup with dried mint’ which personally I quite liked, but ‘E’ wasn’t so keen on it, although it did use up 350g of our Yoghurt mountain, which could be considered something of a result.

We needed a break from yoghurt. Inspired by an excellent and free fresh pasta cookery class (held in a marquee located in Cabot Circus) by the Bordeaux Quay cookery school, we returned and broke out the Italian recipe books. Deciding that fresh pizza dough was the way to go (neither of us having made pizzas at home before) we quickly assembled the necessary ingredients and in no time were throwing dough all over the place in a incompetent approximation of someone who actually knows what they’re doing. Naturally I excelled and my time spent at the La Cucina Caldesi cookery school in London wasn’t wasted (Ok – 1 hour at a Moretti beer sponsored event, but hey – I rock).


‘E’ went for the somewhat surprisingly traditional potato and rosemary topping. I went off piste with an elk salami (a present from Sweden), fennel seed, caper, basil and red onion combo.


The results were frankly impressive, even if I do say myself. Beautifully crisp bases, better than pretty much any I’ve eaten in anywhere but the best pizza restaurants (Pizza Hut – I’m NOT looking at you). In addition we had great fun making them, it was a superb way to spend an evening…oh and they’re cheap (if you’ve got some elk sausage knocking about like I have).

That’s it for part one, people. More thrills, spills (and no doubt yoghurt) coming up in part two.