Slow cooked cauliflower in yoghurt

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, Bell’s Diner is a cracking example.

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, Sam Sohn-Rethel, 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.

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. 

Slow cooked cauliflower with yoghurt

Serves 4

You’ll need:-

150g butter

1 onion, diced

1 clove garlic, chopped

1 tsp cumin seeds, crushed

1 tsp coriander seeds, crushed

1 tsp mild chilli flakes

1 cauliflower, stalk and tough outer leaves removed

1 handful coriander leaves

1 egg yolk

½ tsp cornflour

500ml Greek yoghurt

Heat 100g of the butter in a saucepan and cook the onion until translucent.

Add the garlic, cumin, coriander seeds and chilli and cook for another five minutes.

Finely chop the cauliflower along with the tender inner leaves, add them to the pan and season with plenty of salt.

Finely chop 2/3rds of the coriander leaves and stir into the cauliflower.

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.

Beat together the egg yolk, cornflower and yoghurt then add the mixture to the pan and cook for five more minutes. 

Check the seasoning and add more salt if needed. 

Keep warm until ready to serve. 

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.

Scatter over the remaining coriander leaves and serve.

Toasted breadcrumbs are a nice optional addition for a bit of texture.

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.

Watch this space, people. 

Roast coconut and ginger parsnips

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.

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, they were absolutely frigging delicious.

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.

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*

Roast coconut and ginger parsnips

You’ll need:-
5 parsnips, peeled
40g creamed coconut
5cm piece fresh ginger, finely chopped
2 green chillies, finely chopped
Grated zest ½ lime
Vegetable oil for roasting

Heat the oven to 190C

Quarter or half the parsnips (depending on size) and cook in boiling, salted water for 5 minutes, then drain.

Grate the creamed coconut into a bowl, add the ginger, chillies and a pinch of salt and pepper.
Add 2-3 tablespoons of hot water and stir together until you have a paste.
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.

Heat the vegetable oil in a roasting tray for 5 mins or so.

Toss the parsnips in the coconut paste, and then transfer to the smoking hot roasting tray.

Roast the parsnips for 30-40 mins until they’re browned and crisped up. 

If after 30 mins or so, they’re looking a bit anaemic still, flash them under the grill to brown them off. 

Sauce Verte

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

First, make your aioli base.

You’ll need:-

2 egg yolks

1 garlic clove, peeled and crushed

Salt & Pepper

300-450ml Olive Oil

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.  

Juice of 1 Lemon

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.

First make sure all the ingredients are at room temperature.

Beat the egg yolks with the garlic and a little salt, until thick.

Add the oil, but just a trickle at a time. Too much and it’ll split.

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.

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.

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.

But of course, everything has gone right and you’re marvelling at a quivering pot of homemade, garlic tinged mayonnaise.

Now to turn it into Sauce Verte. For this, you might consider wearing a beret, but this step is entirely optional.

You’ll need:-

A bunch of flat leaf parsley, leaves only

A bunch of watercress, leaves only

4 tarragon sprigs, leaves only

4 mint sprigs, leaves only

10 basil leaves

2 anchovy fillets

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.

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.

Sauce Verte. Done.

A guide to breakfast in Bristol - Updated 26th January 2015

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.

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.

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.

Well. Not quite, but I am incredibly picky.

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…. 

Poco
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.

45 Jamaica Street, Stokes Croft, BS2 8JP
Telephone: 0117 923 2233
http://www.tomsfeast.com/restaurants/poco-bristol

Wallfish
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.

112 Princess Victoria Street, Clifton. BS8 4DB
Telephone: 01179 735435
http://www.wallfishbistro.co.uk

Workhouse Café
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.

Perry Rd, Bristol, Avon BS1 5BG
Telephone: 0117 329 0889
http://www.workhousecafe.co.uk

Soukitchen
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.

277 North Street, Bedminster, BS3 1JP
Telephone 0117 966 6880
http://www.soukitchen.co.uk

Harts Bakery
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.

Arch 35 Lower Approach Road, Temple Meads. BS1 6QS
http://www.hartsbakery.co.uk

Bakers and Co.
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.

193 Gloucester Road. BS7 8BG
http://bakersbristol.co.uk


Pear Café
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).

Unit 1, The Coach House, 2 Upper York Street. BS2 8QN
Telephone: 0117 942 8392
http://www.thepearcafe.com

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…

Full Court Press
59 Broad Street, Bristol, BS1 2EJ
http://www.fcpcoffee.com

Small Street Espresso
Small Street, BS1 1DW
http://www.smallstreetespresso.co.uk 

Didn't You Do Well
20 Park Row, BS1 5LJ

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.

5 years of Essex Eating!

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. 

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. 

Best meal I ate in 2013

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

Best Dish I cooked at home 2013

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. 

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.

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.

Worst Dish I cooked at home 2013

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.

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. 

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.

Best Booze I drank in 2013

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.

Worst Dish I ate out 2013

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. 

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.

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.  

Best Dish I ate out in 2013

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. 

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. 

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.

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. 

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. 

Obviously, the previously mentioned Lamb Ste Menehould at Bell’s Diner and Bar Rooms. Inspirational and bloody lovely. 

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.

Weirdest Google searches that have led to my Blog 2013

Roast Skunk

At it essek porno (?)

Arnold Schwarzenegger like pizza

alcohol+abuse+in+essex+useful+links (probably appropriate)

Add ma im hot (OK)

diahorreah it can make a grown man weep (Indeed)

butters whore-browns restaurant in London

blown veal (eh?)

birthday restaurant cack

gribiche sauce say it (No)

grans looking for love in essex

frothing milk iceberg

fernet branca makes you sober (Not in my experience)

essex posh salt (Maldon – tres posh)

essex love sausages (they do)

essex fight, cheek bitten off

eating red onions and drinking red wine

eat my ass Bristol

eat as much meat London

do they make lamb in a can for sandwiches

do people eat pig cheeks

lyme regis what to do when its pissing down with rain

living room bristol twat

interseting fact about pork cheeks

I am ready with mint sauce

how to cook pork shoulder Essex way (there’s an Essex way?)

how the fuck do you make pease pudding

how do you get mr. bacon stop oinking?

how cooking sausages in coffee shop

hot mustard make my brain hurt

porno pollen

squid eating seahorse

why do people in essex like to eat pudding with gravy

why do my new potatoes fall apart when i cook them

why are scotch eggs horrible

who eats the most puddings in essex?

whisk in arse

vintage eel fucking before cooking

Best Recipe book 2013

Loved One Good Dish by David Tanis. Stripped back, simple cooking. Almost like the American version of Nigel Slater. I found this really inspirational.

Have to include Simon Hopkinson Cooks. I bloody love Simon Hopkinson, his style of cooking, his recipes and his writing are top class.

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. 

Strangest thing I ate in 2013

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. 

Best Ingredients and Produce I ate in 2013

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.

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. 

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.

Must visit restaurants 2014

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.  

The Kitchin – Edinburgh 

Brawn – London

The British Larder – Suffolk

Le Champignon Sauvage – Cheltenham

Restaurant Sat Bains – Nottingham

Dinner by Heston Blumenthal – London

Zucca – London

Bocca Di Lupo - London

L’enclume – Cumbria

Balthazar – London

Honey & Co – London

Hand & Flowers – Marlow

Galvin at Windows (or La Chapelle) – London

Wild Honey or Arbutus (or both!) - London

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.

Dinner by Heston Blumenthal – London

Hand & Flowers – Marlow

L’Enclume – Cumbria

Wild Honey – London

Brawn – London

The Dairy – London

Sweetings – London

Bocca Di Lupo – London

8 Hoxton Square - London

Chez Bruce - London

Social Eating House – London

Rules – London

Berners Tavern - London

Restaurant Sat Bains – Nottingham

The French at The Midland Hotel - Manchester

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.

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.

Mwah Mwah

Dan

x

The Clove Club - London

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.

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.

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.

There is only one choice in the restaurant, a set menu at £47. Fair enough.

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. 

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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). 

Popping the pill into my mouth, it broke and I could taste the unmistakable flavour of the aforementioned cocktail flooding across my tongue, lovely.
   
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.

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.

The Clove Club, yeah, loved it.

The Clove Club
Shoreditch Town Hall
380 Old Street
London
EC1 9LT