Momofuku Milk Bar - Book review

Ever get that feeling that some things are preordained? The sense that behind the scenes the cosmic building blocks of fate, unseen, are shifting and tumbling endlessly into place in infinitesimal combinations, until, finally they converge and suddenly it all makes sense. Like a one armed bandit’s blurred reels jolting to a stop one after the other, thumping into place… jackpot, jackpot, jackpot.

Well, that’s how I felt when my KitchenAid stand mixer and my copy of the long awaited Momofuku Milk Bar book arrived in the same frigging week! A quick shufty validated that feeling that it was indeed the hand of fate at work, when I realised that you definitely need a mixer to really make full use of the book. But back to that in a minute.

Let’s talk about naming kitchen equipment. All of my major appliances have, at the very least, a first name and in some cases, a surname. My Magimix is called Marcel, and any activities involving him are done in a ridiculously naff ‘Allo Allo’ style French accent. Braun the stick blender, whilst in use provokes an accent exactly like Arnold Schwarzenegger, and somewhat alarmingly, now that I come to think of it, a definite vibe of mild perviness.

The arrival of the KitchenAid, a premium and not insubstantial piece of kit provoked much soul searching on what to name ‘him’ for it’s undoubtedly a male. Sleek, shiny chrome and black metal what I now possess is obviously the epitome of a rough, tough butch man’s machine. The throbbing Harley Davidson of home baking. Yet, despite the brand being American, I felt somehow, that like Braun, this piece of equipment was German and therefore needed a name reflecting his Teutonic origins and place of prestige in the kitchen pecking order. Then, like a thunderbolt, it came to me, arise Klaus Von Battenberg. A legend is born.

So now the scene is set. Back to the Momofuku Milk Bar book and it’s arrival providing the opportunity for Klaus to show what he can do. For those of you who don’t know, chef and foul-mouthed genius, David Chang owns a handful of ridiculously hip restaurants in New York under the Momofuku banner. One of these is a bakery and cake shop, the eponymous Milk Bar of the book title. The chef behind this is Christina Tosi and it seems she’s responsible for all the baking and desserts, across the board. This is her book.

I have to say straight away, it’s truly exciting. It’s unlike any other book I own. There’s a real feeling of inventiveness about it, as well as honest writing and absolutely filthy recipes, all of it coated in a veneer of New York hipster cool that’s somehow endearing. I want to cook everything from it basically, even if it makes me fat(ter).

Interestingly, Momofuku have a ‘Mother dough’ recipe. A sort of versatile utility dough, which is used for all their rolls, bread, some of the cakes and surprisingly, even their croissants. I’ve tried out a few of the recipes using the ‘mother dough’ and the results, even if I do say myself, have been frigging amazing.

Cinnamon Bun Pie, a Frankenstein mix of cheesecake, brown butter, cinnamon, sugar and dough is probably one of the most incredible examples of this kind of dessert I’ve tasted. Although to be fair, it almost defies categorisation. Admittedly, it’s a fair bit of work to make and is shockingly filthy. I dread to think of how many calories a slice contains, but it’s so incredibly good that it pretty much rendered both ‘E’ and myself speechless, apart of course, from muffled obscenities of appreciation as we both tried to stuff it all in our gobs.

The recipe for Bagel Bombs provoked a similarly enthusiastic bout of expletives mixed with frantic gorging. Basically a sort of bread roll stuffed with hot cream cheese, spring onion and bacon. Very simple to make, and it’s a classic flavour pairing but I honestly cannot express how good these are to munch on. I was also pretty smug with just how professional looking they turned out.

Finally, I tried making Volcanoes, similar to the Bagel Bombs in that it’s a stuffed roll, but on a much larger scale. Stuffed with a mixture of dauphinoise potatoes, caramelised onions, and cheese. Given the ingredients, I don’t think I really need to describe the sheer state of rapture ‘E’ and I succumbed to as we ate these. Truly epic. I think at one point I may have cried.

Based on results so far, I think it’s fair to say that we can chalk the Momofuku Milk Bar book up as a bit of a success. I mean, seriously, three of the nicest things I’ve eaten anywhere in months have come straight out of this book.

But in the interests of balance, it’s not all swearing yourself silly as you ecstatically pile on the pounds. If you’re a strict vegetarian, you’re a bit screwed. A hell of a lot of the recipes contain gelatin, including all the ice-cream. In addition, some of the recipes themselves pull no punches and are pretty advanced, involving multiple sub-recipes within the actual preparation process. Oh and did I mention the inclusion of a fairly exotic and therefore expensive ingredient ‘freeze-dried sweetcorn powder’ in one of the more iconic recipes, ‘Crack Pie’?

For all that, this is one of the most exciting cookbooks I’ve read in years. I covet my copy. It’s cool, urban New York, tear up the rulebook, sassy vibe, combined with the most ridiculously dirty, brutal, sugar and good stuff laden recipes really makes it one of a kind. Buy it and get fat.


*Massive thanks to Absolute Press for being kind enough to send me a review copy*

Back to British

Notoriously slow on the uptake, and quite often utterly oblivious to what’s going on around me, even I haven’t failed to notice the recent trend for historical British food that seems to be influencing high end restaurant menus and cookbook publishers output alike. Yes, it seems that this year the combination of old and British is a winning one.

But not just anything ancient and of this green and pleasant land will do. That’s way too easy, British nursery food has been done to death in the past few years and is now almost a default choice on pub menus across the land. No. It seems it also has to be obscure.

Before featuring on the menu at Heston Blumenthal’s new London restaurant ‘Dinner’ how many of you had heard of the 17th century salad dish, salmagundi? I know I hadn’t. Sounding perhaps like a particularly loathsome venereal disease, it’s been plucked from historical culinary obscurity, rediscovered and reinvented for the 21st century. (Just so you know, it’s a salad comprised of cooked meats, seafood, vegetables, fruit, leaves, nuts and flowers and dressed with oil, vinegar and spices).

The Gilbert Scott, Marcus Wareing’s brand spanking new St Pancras restaurant (It opened just last week, and I’m gagging to eat there) similarly has a menu littered with forgotten British dishes that probably haven’t been served to a paying customer for at least a hundred years. Dorset Jugged Steak or Tweed Kettle anyone?

So you’re excited about all this unusual yet strangely familiar British food. But can’t wait 3 months for a table at Heston’s ‘Dinner’ and St Pancras isn’t handily located in your particular ‘hood’? You want to get in on the act, and you fancy cooking up some 19th or 18th century British food of your own. Superb. But where to begin?

Luckily, most of the cookery book publishers anticipated this trend and are re-releasing classic and quite often, downright obscure culinary texts as we speak.


Particularly interesting are the Penguin ‘Great Food’ paperbacks. This beautiful series of re-printed classic books cover a range of authors from Victorian cook Eliza Acton to 18th century housewife and the original domestic goddess - Hannah Glasse. Not all the books in the series deal with British food, but the majority have a link.

What I find fascinating, flicking through the pages is quite often, how little anything has actually changed. Many of the recipes and dishes are not a hell of a lot different from the versions you might find in a much more modern book. However, just to keep you on your toes, the very next recipe will be a ‘certain cure for the bite of a mad dog’ or a ‘receipt against the plague’ (If you’re interested. It’s a rather heady mix of rue, sage, mint, rosemary, wormwood and lavender cooked in white wine vinegar for 4 days, then mixed with camphor – wash your loins with that concoction, and you’re free to strut around town with no chance of contracting the plague at all).

My absolute favourite from the series is ‘Recipes from the White Hart Inn’ by William Verrall. An 18th century landlord from Sussex, who had trained as a chef in France and was trying to introduce the ‘modern and best french cookery’ to his customers. The preface where he describes being hired to cook a dinner in a Gentleman’s house, and the resulting woeful lack of equipment and culinary knowledge on the part of the incumbent cook and indeed the diners had me in hysterics. Surprisingly, most of the recipes seem very up to date (which is indicative perhaps of how little French cuisine has changed). Williams’s thoughts on the use of fresh vegetables, herbs, ‘mise en place’ and good kitchen management are just as valid today as they were then. All imparted in impossibly elaborate, beautiful Georgian prose with a mile wide streak of gruff pub landlord running through it. Hilarious. I can’t recommend it enough, if only for the sheer entertainment value.


Quadrille are also in on the act with a selection of re-released, long lost, volumes in their ‘Classic voices in food’ range. Eliza Acton features again, in a rather hefty and beautifully printed ‘Modern cookery for private families’. It’s incredibly comprehensive with 34 chapters covering pretty much, every conceivable facet of cooking. From soups to preserves, including unusually for the period, a whole chapter on ‘foreign and Jewish cookery’. Once again, it’s a fascinating and rather useful book, especially if you’re looking for some ‘on trend’ historical British grub inspiration

I absolutely love this unexpected direction British food has taken. Looking into it’s distant past and rediscovering itself. Instead of feeling like the red-headed culinary step child and constantly looking abroad to other cultures for ideas and influence, it seems that we’ve finally realised that once upon a time, way back when, we had some pretty bloody good food of our own, right here. I’m so proud and getting just a bit teary; after I’ve finished belting out a verse of Jerusalem, I might start hunting around for a tricorn hat on Ebay.

Brown Windsor soup - A revival

I’ve always been slightly intrigued by Brown Windsor Soup. I’ve read mention of it countless times, generally in the context of Victorian or Edwardian dining, or perhaps later being associated with drab wartime austerity. It seems to come up again and again, but I’ve never tried it. I’ve never seen it on a menu and I barely know anyone who’s ever eaten it, apart from my Mother – once, in the 1960’s in London, who remembered it as being “Nice and rich”.

It used to be a restaurant staple, an absolute British classic, but the ravages of wartime economy meant that although it remained very much on the menu, the only defining characteristic it shared with it’s pre-war version was it’s brownness. ‘E’s grandfather apparently ate it whilst serving in the RAF, and remembers it being made from Bovril.
Abominations such as this are what helped to consign it not only to the dustbin of culinary history, but literally had it being held up as an example of the sheer awfulness of British cooking.

Recently I came across an Alastair Little recipe for Brown Windsor, and browsing the list of ingredients it was hard to see anything to dislike, in fact; it sounded absolutely delicious. Shin of beef, Lamb fillet, Marrow Bone, Cayenne and Sherry. Meat and booze! Does it get any better?
How could we, as a nation, have fallen out of love with something seemingly so right?

There was it seemed, only one-way to find out.

The soup’s very Britishness seemed to fit in nicely with what we try and do at our Bristol based ‘Montpelier Basement’ supper club, where the recurring theme is British, seasonal and local. When we announced it was on the menu, there was a fair bit of interest in the dish, it seemed I wasn’t the only one who had heard of it and was intrigued.

The night before the supper, we worked our way through the recipe ending up with a cauldron of murky, brackish swamp like liquid. Removing the bones, and scraping the jellified marrow out into the soup elicited something of an appalled and disgusted commentary from pescetarian ‘E’, for who the sheer meatiness was just a step too far. But the prodigious use of a stick blender and then forcing the resulting mixture through a Mouli saw something of a transformation…the soup slowly became a rather drab, but not entirely unexpected, uniform brown. The final additional flourish of some sherry and cayenne did nothing to improve the dull earthen sheen.

But what did it taste like?

Belying its slightly depressing, functional look, it tasted absolutely belting. Subtle at first, meaty. But then turning spicy and tinged with the sherry flavour. Bloody gorgeous.

We decided to liven things up slightly by adding a dollop of horseradish and chive crème fraiche to each bowl, which also helped to break up the appalling brownness.

The verdict of our diners at ‘The Basement’? The general consensus seemed to be that they absolutely loved it. In fact, I don’t think anyone we asked disliked it.

So, time for Brown Windsor Soup to emerge from it’s period in culinary limbo and once again take it’s place on menus across the nation, if only that a whole new generation can get to sample an absolute British classic? I think so.

Here’s the recipe.

Brown Windsor Soup
Serves 8

You’ll Need: -

225g Shin of Beef, cut into 2.5cm cubes
225g Lamb Fillet, cut into 2.5cm cubes
60g Dripping or Butter
1 Large Onion, thinly sliced
2 Carrots cut into small dice
60g Flour
1 Marrow Bone, sawn into 5cm pieces
2.25 Litres Beef or Chicken Stock
Bouquet Garni of Celery, Bay and Thyme
Salt and Pepper
1 tsp Cayenne Pepper
Sherry glass of Sweet Sherry or Madeira
Chopped Chives, Crème Fraiche, Horseradish to garnish (optional).

In a heavy casserole, brown the meat in the dripping or butter. Add the sliced onion and carrots, lower the heat and fry gently until they wilt. Sprinkle over the flour; turn up the heat and brown, stirring.

Add the marrow bone, pour over the stock and bring to the boil. Skim, and then lower the heat to a simmer. Add the bouquet garni and season. Simmer for 2 hours, topping up with water if needed.

Remove the bones and the bouquet garni (Making sure to scrape the marrow out into the soup). Blitz with a stick blender, then use a Mouli or push through a sieve using a wooden spoon into a clean pan. Adjust the seasoning and add the cayenne pepper and sweet sherry or Madeira.

Heat through gently before serving.
If you fancy pepping it up a bit, as we did, add some crème fraiche mixed with horseradish and finely chopped chives.

Cheddar, Leek and Mushroom Tart.

The first cookbook I ever bought was in 1999, believe it or not, it was 'New British Classics' by the ridiculously coiffured chef, Gary Rhodes.
Naff haircuts aside it's still one of the best recipe books I own, and trust me; I own a lot. It's just so comprehensive, a real celebration of British Food. Everything is covered in there, from 'rack on black' to 'spotted dick'. If you don't own it, I suggest you pick it up - and if like me, you're a bargain hunting frequenter of charity shop bookshelves, there's a good chance you'll come across it at some point, so snap it up!

I still cook from it often, and one of the best recipes is a cheddar, leek and mushroom tart (Errr, but in the book it may be Gruyere, and it may be described as a flan or quiche - my copy is currently languishing among many identical boxes of unpacked cookbooks after my recent move to Bristol). In any case, it's a cracking recipe and I made it again just the other day. I found this more or less identical version of the recipe online here - and have amended it with the substitution of cheddar cheese and addition of cayenne pepper.


Cheddar, Leek and Mushroom Tart.

You'll need: -

25g butter
4 leeks , washed and sliced
250g pack chestnut mushrooms , sliced
2 eggs
284ml double cream
140g Strong Cheddar Cheese, coarsely grated
Large pinch Cayenne Pepper

FOR THE PASTRY
280g plain flour
140g cold butter, cut into pieces


First make the pastry, tip the flour and butter into a bowl, then rub together with your fingertips until completely mixed and crumbly. Add 8 tbsp cold water, then bring everything together with your hands until just combined. Roll into a ball and use straight away or chill for up to 2 days. The pastry can also be frozen for up to a month.


Roll out the pastry on a lightly floured surface to a round about 5cm larger than a 25cm tin. Use your rolling pin to lift it up, then drape over the tart case so there is an overhang of pastry on the sides. Using a small ball of pastry scraps, push the pastry into the corners of the tin. Chill in the fridge or freezer for 20 mins. Heat oven to 200C/fan 180C/gas 6.

While the pastry is chilling, heat the butter in a pan and cook the leeks for 10 mins, stirring occasionally, until they soften. Then turn up the heat and add the mushrooms. Cook for 5 mins more, then turn off the heat.

Lightly prick the base of the tart with a fork, line the tart case with a large circle of greaseproof paper or foil, then fill with baking beans. Blind-bake the tart for 20 mins, remove the paper and beans, then continue to cook for 5-10 mins until biscuit brown

While the tart case cooks, beat the eggs in a bowl, then gradually add the cream. Stir in the leeks, mushrooms, cayenne pepper and half the cheese. Season, then tip the filling into the tart case. Sprinkle with the rest of the cheese, then bake for 20-25 mins until set and golden brown. Leave to cool in the case, trim the edges of the pastry, then remove and serve in slices.


I love this tart, it's so rich and creamy - obviously its probably got about a million calories in it, for the waistline watchers amongst you, but hey who cares when it tastes this good. We ate it along with a beautiful looking tomato and mixed herb salad knocked up effortlessly by the extremely talented 'E'.

COCO - Eating the Book

Regular readers of my blog will know that I love a good cookbook. My shelves sag under their collective weight but still, like every addict; it's never enough I want 'more' and 'better'. Which is where my latest acquisition comes in, because it certainly fulfils both requirements.

COCO is a beautiful, weighty, glossy, large and rather sleek book. It is the first of it's kind, in as much that it is at once, a reference book, a recipe book and a up to the minute snapshot of the serious talent working in kitchens across the globe today.

Interestingly, all of the featured Chefs were selected by their peers. Ten Internationally respected leading chefs (Including such luminaries as Ferran Adria, Alain Ducasse, Fergus Henderson and Gordon Ramsay), who were asked to nominate their pick of contemporary talent. 100 of these Chef's are featured.

What you get in this beautifully laid out book, is an introduction by the nominating Chef on why they picked this particular personality, a Biography of the chosen chef, a tasting menu representation of the Chef's dishes that best represent them; with accompanying photos. And then, best of all as far as I'm concerned, the actual recipes for those dishes.

Given the concept, it's surprising to find that not all, (in fact hardly any) of the Chef's featured are who you would expect, the usual well known, celebrity Michelin starred brigade. For example, Fergus Henderson chose Kitty Travers, a London based independent ice-cream maker. The selections have serious integrity, and are interesting in themselves when you consider the whys and wherefores of that particular persons inclusion in the book.

Despite this being an International selection of Chef talent, it's fantastic to see so many British Chef's represented throughout the book, the likes of Tristan Welch, Tom Kitchin, Theo Randall, Care Smyth and Skye Gyngell to name but a few. I think this solid showing is a glowing testament to how far Britain has risen in the global gastronomy stakes in the last 20 years or so.

So, I have the book, I was sent it free to review and I'm very pleased with it indeed.

But, what's this? There's more? Would I like to accompany a small group of my fellow food bloggers to four of the Chef's featured in the books restaurants and eat a course consisting of a dish also featured in the book in each? Possibly meeting the chef's along the way?

Let me ponder this carefully...

Who am I kidding with the careful pondering... SIGN ME THE HELL UP PLEASE!!

So, last Wednesday evening found me briskly making my way through Soho, in an extremely agitated and excited state and giving off just the sleight whiff of alcohol after indulging a quick pre-event sharpener in Rules with some of my fellow bloggers.

The Destination? The House of St Barnabas on Greek Street, a rather lovely members club, where we were greeted and ushered up a grand staircase to a function room. There to indulge in more drinks (don't mind if I do) and to sample some frankly incredible canapes prepared by Lyndy Redding of Absolute Taste. Lyndy is featured in COCO and provides Michelin standard event catering with celebrity clients including Gordon Ramsay and David Beckham.

I can honestly say I've never had canapes like these, Salt and Pepper crusted beef tenderloin skewers with horseradish cream, Tuna Tataki with radish, apple and mustard (which were artfully served, suspended on chopsticks), Pea and Mint Tartlets with feta and fresh mint...incredible cheese straws... I was slightly overwhelmed...I mean, I was trying to make polite conversation with my fellow bloggers, PR's from Sauced and Phaidon and Lyndy Redding herself (Who I should add was charming and extremely interesting), but my eyes were bulging out on stalks at the sight of all this fantastic food and my stomach was making urgent grumbling noises, it was all I could do not to grab hand full's of the incredible beef skewers from the proffered trays and consume them in a spectacular orgy of feasting. But, being from Essex, obviously I'm extremely refined (as those who have met me will testify) and I restrained myself, remaining just slightly over the tipping point of greedy without drawing attention to my gluttony. It's a fine art.

By the way, I've since found that recipes for all of the canapes we ate are featured in the book. Excellent.

So, from there it was outside to the waiting mini-bus and on to our starter, cooked by Jason Atherton at Maze.
I'd never been to Maze before, and we emerged as a group into a moodily lit contemporary space and wound our way to our table through a profusion of expensively suited, well-heeled customers lounging, drinking and eating. It's strange, I've eaten at a Gordon Ramsay outpost before (Claridges) and the service was first class, friendly and surprisingly informal - but there was a vibe in Maze that I couldn't quite put my finger on, the service was excellent but I somehow felt the waiters and front of house were slightly frosty and aloof. Like I say, it's hard to define but my spidey senses were tingling and not in a good way.

Nevertheless our starters of Cornish red mullet, rabbit bolognese, cuttlefish tagliatelle, squid paint and asparagus arrived. Yes that's right, Fish and a Rabbit Ragu... not a combination I've ever encountered before. I have to say, the presentation of the dish was immaculate, absolutely beautiful to look at. And I was surprised to find that I really enjoyed it, not least because I've never eaten Red Mullet or Cuttlefish before. Unfortunately we didn't get a chance to meet Jason Atherton, the kitchen apparently being extremely hectic and busy while we there.

Rising slightly unsteadily, (the wine at Maze was excellent), we headed outside into the night air to board the mini-bus and head off to our next destination, Theo Randall at the Intercontinental on Park Lane.

Warmly welcomed, we took our seats and offered more great wine (Yes please) plates of excellent focaccia and bruschetta were brought out for us to pick at. (I found the focaccia particularly good, being incredibly soft and moist). At this point Theo Randall himself popped out of the kitchen to welcome us and describe the main course we were about to eat 'Monkfish with prosciutto, artichokes, capers, parsley and Charlotte potatoes'. Theo Randall was very chatty and friendly but also obviously extremely passionate about his food and ingredients. He spent some time explaining why the Cornish Monkfish we were about to eat was such a fantastic ingredient due to the way it was fished. It was fascinating stuff. Theo, as I now like to call him. (See reason "here"...By the way, he's definitely not trying to escape my drunken new best chum attentions), returned to the Kitchen.

Our main arrived and it looked stunning, the monkish being rich and meaty working incredibly with the flavour of the prosciutto, artichokes, capers, parsley and lemon. A simple dish in some ways when compared to Jason Atherton's offering at Maze, but this was all about the fantastic quality of the ingredients paired immaculately together. To be honest, I could have eaten it all day. Seriously beautiful food, it's making me hungry just thinking about it.

Towards the end of the meal, Theo Randall popped out of the kitchen again to chat and ask us what we thought of his food. He comes across as an extremely nice guy and happily signed our menus and posed for photographs, I would love to return to eat a whole meal there.

Boarding the mini-bus in a drunken staggering fashion for our final hop of the evening, we headed excitedly to Launceston Place and dessert supplied by the Chef Tristan Welch.

Pulling up outside I was immediately struck by what a lovely street Launceston Place is located in, with the darkened boutiques and the quite Georgian terraced houses it felt very homely. Launceston Place itself is also an extremely attractive looking restaurant from outside, extremely warm and inviting. Which is exactly what we got as Tristan Welch was in the reception area to greet us and shake our hands as we were shown to our table.

Our sommelier came over and introduced himself as Mickey, explaining which wine he had selected for us to partner with the dessert, why he had chosen it and some background on the wine itself. The timbre of his voice had an almost hypnotic quality and we all listened fascinated as he described the wine in a measured, well-delivered and immaculately well-spoken fashion. If he ever gets tired of being a sommelier I suspect a career in politics awaits. Oh, and the sweet wine (Jurancon ‘Syphonie de Novembre’ Domaine Cauhape 2004) was incredible.

At this point Chef Tristan Welch appeared to chat briefly and introduce pre-desserts consisting of raspberry jelly and lemon sorbet topped with a black pepper tuile by way of a palate cleanser. They were beautiful to look at, and the flavours worked very well together - sharp, but not too much so with a surprising heat from the cracked black pepper on the tuile. Lovely.

Tristan Welch appeared again to introduce our main course properly and showed that he'd done his homework extremely well by commenting on recent blog posts we'd made. Very impressive and a nice personal touch.

His Pastry chef and other members of the kitchen brigade arrived carrying large slates loaded with the most incredible selection of desserts I've ever seen. Eveyone's jaws dropped at the sight of these platters. The Pastry chef carefully described what each of these were, but by this point I had serious trouble taking it all in, being quite overwhelmed by the desserts on offer and the excellent wine. I've since learned that the slates contained, an Assiette of Tristan's desserts....

Rice pudding soufflé, raspberry ripple ice cream
Lavender cream, violets, raspberry
Apple parfait, toffee, walnut
Dark chocolate, iced milk, crumble
Set custard cream, caramel and praline, malt ice cream
Banana sticky toffee pudding, Guinness ice cream (Created by Steve Grove, Winner of Master Chef 2009, who works at Launceston Place).

And if this wasn't enough, Tristan Welch then brought out the most incredibly caramelised tarte tatin I've ever seen, this was served with home made clotted cream.

Silence. The table was momentarily stunned by this offering before everyone started noisily digging in... there's just too much to describe but a particular favourite of mine was the apple parfait, toffee, walnut presented in an apple shape complete with stalk! The tarte tatin was incredibly good as well, rich and sticky as a good tarte tatin should be. The final act of the evening was excellent cognac and coffee and Tristan Welch happily posing for photos and signing menus. He was incredibly friendly, chatty and approachable and extremely generous with his time. As soon as I get the chance I'll be heading to Launceston place for a complete meal.

I left, as with Theo Randall's restaurant earlier in the evening incredibly impressed.

What an evening! Without a doubt the best event I've been invited to as a food blogger, made all the easier to write about because I can honestly say the COCO book, which the evening was promoting is excellent. I wouldn't say it if I didn't think so, yes, granted If the price is right, I may be easily bought (drop me an email all offers considered) but when it come to my blog, this very blog which I have invested 11 months of effort in!... I have the integrity of one of Eliot Ness's untouchables - I cannot be bought. It's Definitely worth picking up.

Thanks to all the Chefs and restaurants mentioned above, and to my fellow diners for the excellent company Gastrogeek, Foodurchin, Scandilicious, Gastrogossip, Laissez Fare, Mathildes Cuisine, Meemalee, The girls from Sauce Communications Danielle, Laura and Chloe and finally, from Phaidon; Jenny.

COCO is available from Amazon, RRP £29.95

Maze (Jason Atherton)
10-13 Grosvenor Square
London
W1K 6JP
Telephone: 020 7107 0000

http://www.gordonramsay.com/maze


Theo Randall at the InterContinental
1 Hamilton Place
London
W1J 7QV
Telephone: 020 7318 8747

http://www.theorandall.com/

Launceston Place (Tristan Welch)
1a Launceston Place
London
W8 5RL
Telephone: 020 7937 6912

http://www.launcestonplace-restaurant.co.uk

Absolute Taste (Lyndy Redding)
14 Edgel Street
London
SW18 1SR
Telephone: 0208 875 4090

http://www.absolutetaste.com

Snow Flakes and Schnapps - A Review.

Now that it's Autumn, with the nights drawing in and the weather getting a bit cooler, my foodie thought processes are slowly turning towards hearty winter grub, stews, casseroles and the like. The sort of food our distant cousins on the continent do so well in the more snow laden, fairytale parts of mainland Europe, so imagine how pleased I was to be sent 'Snow Flakes and Schnapps' by Jane Lawson to review.

So, first impressions....
This is an incredibly well made book, coffee table food porn of the highest order. Beautiful food photography, an obviously expensive tactile dustcover with raised 'bumps' on, which I can't stop running my fingertips over.....maddeningly addictive. Its heavy and luxurious - so much so, in fact, that if I'd paid for it I'd think twice about actually cooking from it. What a shame to cover it with the collateral damage of grease spatters and stains that my cookbooks normally succumb to.
So, we've established, it's an absolute looker of a cookbook.....and that's all well and good, but what are the recipes like?

There's a whole collection of recipes spanning Northern, Central and Eastern Europe including the traditional fare of Scandinavia, Germany and Russia, to name but a few. That's not to say the recipes themselves are traditional, the author freely admits to having experimented to obtain the 'finest versions of each'. But they're all here, your Stollen's, your fondue's, your schnitzel's...


Obviously you can't review a recipe book without actually cooking something from it, and after a flick through I decided on the suitably exotic sounding Meatballs with Vodka Dill Cream sauce. The recipe was well written and easy to follow, and the results were pretty nice. I'm not entirely convinced by the vodka dill cream sauce, it was extremely rich, but the meatballs were lovely. Here's the recipe so you can have a go at this yourself:-

Meatballs with vodka Dill Cream Sauce.
Serves 4-6

You'll Need:-
160g Fresh White Breadcrumbs
186ml whipping cream
350g Minced Beef
350g Minced Pork
1 Large Egg
1 Onion, finely chopped
1/4 Tsp freshly grated nutmeg
a pinch of ground allspice
1 tsp sea salt
1/4 tsp white pepper
2 Tbs Butter
1 Tbs Oil
1 Tbs Plain Flour
435Ml Hot Beef Stock
1 1/2 Tbs chopped Dill (plus extra to garnish).
80ml Vodka
Lingonberry preserves to serve.

Combine the breadcrumbs and 125ml of the cream, and leave to sit until the breadcrumbs have absorbed all the liquid. Add the Beef and Pork mince, egg, onion, nutmeg, allspice, salt and white pepper and combine well. Roll the mixture into 3cm balls and place in a single layer on a baking tray lined with baking paper. Cover and refrigerate for 3-4 hours to allow the flavours to develop.

When ready to cook, heat half of the butter with the oil in a large heavy based frying pan over a medium-high heat (do not use a non-stick pan). Cook the meatballs in batches , for 4-6 minutes each, or until browned all over. Remove and set aside.
Add the remaining butter and the flour to the pan and stir. Gradually whisk in the hot stock and the remaining cream, scraping up any cooked-on bits. Add the dill and 3 tablespoons of the vodka, and bring to the boil, whisking continously until smooth and thickened slightly. Return the meatballs to the pan along with any resting juices, and cook for 10 minutes or until tender. Stir through the remaining Vodka and season to taste. Garnish with the fresh dill and serve with Lingonberry preserves as a condiment.

Tip: Serve the meatballs over some sauteed or mashed potatoes or buttered noodles, with the Lingonberry preserves on the side as a condiment. A shot of Vodka is a must!

(Just like to point out, I served with Cranberry standing in as a stunt double for Lingonberry which I had trouble sourcing at short notice, and I declined the suggested 'must have' vodka shot, reasoning that my poor liver gets a battering enough as it is, without startling it with an unexpected dousing of vodka at mealtimes).

So that's the good, what about the bad and the ugly?
Well - the chapter headings are incredibly 'camp' and I don't mean in an alpine yodellers tent kind of way. Particularly the chapter titled 'Diamonds and Fur', slightly tacky to say the least. The recipes, throughout, although for the most part excellent have no accompanying notes explaining where exactly the dishes originate from, which country or region eats this food, no sense of the history or tradition behind the cooking and I think it's a real glaring omission, because that's exactly the sort of thing I want to know and something that may draw me to a recipe - the knowledge that I'm eating Russian Peasant food or cooking a traditional meal cooked by farmers in Bavaria really appeals to me.

For all that, it's a beautiful book with some very intriguing recipes, ('Molten Black Forest Puddings with Cherry Compote and Kirsh Cream' I'm looking at you). I'm not sure I'd buy it at the full price competing as it is with my very full Amazon wishlist. It's good, but the previously mentioned lack of basic information concerning the origin of the dishes, for me stops it attaining 'must have' status.
But of course, this is just my opinion, so I suggest you peruse 'Snow Flakes and Schnapps' in a bookshop, if only to feel what a truly quality recipe book should feel like. Rub the tactile cover and groan to yourself quietly, then flick through the recipes, if it speaks to you buy it.

Many thanks to Murdoch Books for the review copy.

Snowflakes and Schnapps is available for £12.50 from Amazon

Cook Books and Stroganoff's

As mentioned in the previous post, I received quite a haul of new recipe books for Christmas. Jamie Oliver's latest, Ministry of Food being one of them.

The recipes in this book are certainly a lot simpler than I'm used to following, but they're great for everyday weeknight meals.

It's a pretty good book.

(The rather irritating photographs showing 'Jamie converts' beaming and holding Lasagna with some blurb on their new found cooking skills notwithstanding.)

The fact is, I probably use more of Jamie Oliver's recipes on a regular basis than anyone Else's. (Particularly Tagliatelle Genovese - a real favourite.)

Which brings me neatly to Mr Oliver's recipe for Chicken and Leek Stroganoff.

As the whole point of the book is 'sharing recipes' and teaching people how to cook - I'll give you the recipe.......

Chicken and Leek Stroganoff (19 Minutes)

Serves 2

Sea Salt and freshly ground black pepper
150g long-grain or Basmatti Rice
1 Large Leek
Big handfull of Chestnut or Oyster Mushrooms
2 Chicken Breasts
Olive Oil
a knob of butter
A glass of white wine
A bunch of fresh parsley
285ml single cream
1 Lemon

Cook your rice according to the packet instructions in salted boiling water.

Cut both ends off the leek, quarter lengthways and then slice across thinly, then wash well under running water.
Slice the mushrooms
Slice the Chicken Breasts into finger size pieces.

Put a large Frying pan on a high heat and add a good lug of olive oil and the knob of butter.
Add the leek to the pan with the white wine and a small glass of water. and a good pinch of salt and pepper.
Let it bubble away for 5 minutes loosely covered with a piece of foil.
Meanwhile, finely chop the parsley, stalks and all.
Remove the foil and add the chicken strips, most of the parsley, the cream and the mushrooms.
Stir, and bring back to the boil then turn the heat down and simmer for 10 minutes

Drain your rice
Just before serving, cut the lemon in half and squeeze the juice of one half into the stroganoff.
Season to taste.

Spoon rice onto each plate, and top with the stroganoff.
Scatter with the remainder of the chopped parsley.

*Personal Note*
Rice, normally takes roughly 10 minutes (depending on type) - so your rice will probably be done before your Stroganoff. Drain it in a colander- and then cover it with a clean tea towel or foil while your finishing off the Stroganoff.

I cooked this the other night - and it wasn't bad at all. 19 Min's - from start to finish, very straightforward and fairly cheap. Neatly ticking all my boxes for after work mid-week, pre-7-30pm eating.


By the way If your interested, the other books in my Christmas bonanza were:-

• The Moro Cookbook
• Casa Moro (Have to visit Moro's this year!)
• Anjum's New Indian - Anjum Anand
• British Seasonal Food - Mark Hix (His new Farringdon restaurant is also on my 'to do' list.)
• Bibendum Cookbook

And,

• 'Just Like Mother used to Make' - Tom Norrington-Davies (Of 'The Eagle' Farringdon fame)
  

I've already had a crack at a few recipes from the Moro cookbook for a recent dinner party, and knocked up a pretty nice caramelised orange rice pudding from the Bibendum book.

As you can see, looks like I won't be lacking recipe inspiration this year!