Posts from the ‘Food’ Category

Feb 23

Valencia (ii) – Food Focus 1: Palo Alto

Review websites such as tripadvisor have easily become the best friend of the tourist, but often the enemy of the hospitality industry, which so easily falls victim to the foul mouths of internet trolls who would never complain to a restaurant’s face (so to speak), but unleash their cowardly fury online to the detriment of the business’s future trade. And yet, when a restaurant knows its stuff and presents a brilliant service, this is more often than not reflected on the said review websites. It is for this reason that before visiting a new city, I tend to check out the top 10 or 20 restaurants as reviewed by visitors on tripadvisor, and more often than not make a few reservations as a result. For Valencia however, I had insufficient time to scan through the various Valencian offerings, and decided to take Valencia like a bull by its horns, and leave my restaurant reservations to chance.

Imagine my surprise then when, after stumbling upon this little neighbourhood gem, Palo Alto C/ Conde de Montornes 30, and enjoying every little expectation-exceeded detail, that I should find said restaurant is only at number 406 of 1266 tripadvisor reviewed restaurants in Valencia! To be fair to them, they only have one review, and that review is a full 5 out of 5 which, while not surprising, should be replicated many times over. I hope therefore that in writing this review, I will play a small part in lifting Palo Alto far up the tripadvisor rankings and into the hearts of Valencia visitors henceforward.

We were quite lucky to chance upon this restaurant. Always on the lookout for something quirky (and always ensuring that I avoid any restaurant which 1. has waiters/ maitre d’s standing outside beckoning/ forcing tourists inside or 2. those whose menu comprises 80s-style yellowing photographs of ideal dishes, to which the actual presentation bears very little resemblance) and heading back to the hotel after our traipse around Valencia’s fine art museum followed by another around the Jardines del Real, I was attracted to this place by the unique interiors (special admiration went for the variously angled wood suspended from the ceiling like a continuous wave rushing along the shore, complete with oversized lightbulbs hanging at differing heights) and the very reasonable menu. For only 44.25 € each, we would get 5 courses, bread, a bottle of wine, water and coffee. Bargain.

Delicious wine, all included

So turning up later at the allotted time, we found ourselves attentively looked after from the start. Pleasant waitresses asked us whether we would like white or red wine, and on choosing the latter were given an excellent tempranillo rioja “Valdemar, 2011” which far exceeds the normal plonk one may be given as a house wine or as part of a set menu. Smooth and perfectly chilled at the recommended mid-teens centigrade, this wine flowed like liquid velvet upon the tongue, slipping down the throat in perfect unison with the food.

Speaking of which, each and every course of our sampling was delicious, flavourful and each uniquely different. The first, a panfried foie gras with a reduction of pedro ximenez sherry, honey and raisins was a perfectly balanced dish. The reduction had been taken a little too far, with the result that it was a tad sticky in between the teeth, but the sharp sweetness was a beautiful accompaniment to the rich creamy saltiness of the foie.

Foie with a sherry reduction

Onto dish two, a beautifully presented salad of super-fresh scallops, sitting in their little mermaid bikini shells surfing the waves of a verdant salad, dressed in a citrus vinaigrette and topped with that much needed “crunch” supplied by crushed pistachios and crispy iberico ham.

Salade of Scallops with iberico ham and crushed pistachios

There were two mains, the first a dish of hake (or “merluza” in Español), served on potatoes with a basil and garlic purée. I could smell the pungent garlic as the dish wafted over from the kitchen (or rather the garlic vapours did) and relished the potent mediterranean flavour. My mother found the garlic a little strong for her more refined anglicised palate and perhaps wisely left a little of the sauce to the side – had I done the same, I may have better appreciated the more delicate flavours of the subsequent main, a tornado of beef wrapped in bacon and served with mushrooms and asparagus. What can I say other than it was delicious, tender and perfectly cooked?

Hake with a garlic and basil sauce

Tournado of beef with bacon

Ok, it’s meat juices I know, but the marbling is beautiful

Finally, onto the unctuous spongey chocolate cake with a strawberry reduction – perfect for the Valentines weekend, although for obvious reasons this was not at the forefront of my mother’s or my mind (!). I can barely remember quite how delicious this cake was, such was my unapologetic embrace of over half of that delicious tempranillo, and my undeniable intoxication by a meal which was, in every detail, on point. Having almost forgotten how reasonably priced this set menu was, the final bill of 88 € came as something of a shock, but was worth every centimos. Palo Alto – may you rise to the altos of tripadvisor. You deserve it.

Chocolate cake with strawberries

Palo Alto in on the C/ Conde de Montornes 30 which is a few minutes east of the Cathedral and close to the bed of the old Turia River.

Valencia – Part I: Beauty and the Bell Tower (daily-norm.com)

Jan 30

8 Comments

Patatas a lo Pobre

Sometimes the best things in life are the simplest. One of the greatest pleasures for me is going along to a classic family-run Spanish restaurant on the corner of the Paseo Maritimo in Marbella heading East towards Cable Beach. It’s off the tourist track, and far from the glitz and glamour of the Golden Mile and Puerto Banus, and that is why the restaurant, frequented as it is by the Spanish locals, serves some of the best food along the Marbellan coast, albeit cheaply and without pomp or ceremony.

Pretty much every Sunday when I am in Marbella (and how I wish I was right now) I head to that café on the corner, to eat a simple serving of squid with salad and, on the side, a large plate of oily, simple Patatas a lo Pobre. Literally translated as potatoes of the poor man, this typical Andalusian dish is awfully simple (it comprises mainly potatoes, onions and peppers), but completely delicious. And so, when a cold chill nipped at my spine this week, and when all I did was yearn for my beloved España basked in the summer heat, I set about recreating my favourite Sunday lunch.

My adored Marbella

Its calm winter beaches

The fisherman’s huts of Cable Beach

The patatas are really simple to make. Take one large onion and slice. Sauté the onion gently in oil until it softens, and add to that two chopped red peppers (deseeded), 2-3 cloves of garlic, chopped finely, seasoning, a small teaspoon of pimenton and a few bay leaves. This should all be cooked, again, until the pepper is softened. To that, add around 6-8 peeled potatoes chopped into bitesize pieces and a good glug more of olive oil, and cook the whole dish further until the potatoes are tender, but not falling apart (I find that peeled new potatoes work best for this as they can be sliced into neat round disks and keep their shape easily).

Serve your patatas drizzled in further good quality olive oil and, if you want to recreate the whole experience, some grilled squid and a hearty side salad (sadly I was unable to get my hands on any huge squids like those so frequently available on the Med, but when in London…well, we have to put up with seafood on the smaller side). This dish guarantees a burst of Spanish flavour with the added benefit that, as the name suggests, it’s really very cheap to make – highly suitable for that post-Christmas poor man’s January then.

My patatas

And some very small squid!

¡Buen Provecho!

Jan 15

4 Comments

Burger and Lobster

Monopoly players across the world will recognise Mayfair as the uber expensive dark blue site which the most prudent property developer should aim to develop with little plastic green houses and fat red hotels should they wish to sweep the board of this favourite winter’s weekend family game. And in reality, the real Mayfair has existed in parallel to its board game namesake, boasting amongst the most valuable reality in London, from lavish luxury hotels including the Ritz, and refined shopping such as Fortnum and Masons, and swanky car showrooms, packed to the rafters with private drinks receptions of the well healed and fur-wrapped gentry, to private members clubs aplenty and restaurants whose prices are conspicuous by their absence from well-bound menus.

Yet in a city where ambition is the fuel which keeps the big urban pump grinding, and the lavish lifestyle of the London yuppy class predominates as the ultimate aspiration for career ladder climbers and socialites alike, Mayfair is as ever the ultimate in London hangouts, but one which is becoming more and more accessible as a place for everyone with a little taste to embrace the highlife. Take Fortnums, the refined department store, which last Christmas reported its best ever sales in the shops 300 or so year history, swamped by the thousands who decided to prioritise the traditions of a heritage Christmas, despite the economic downturn all around us.

Fortnum and Masons

Then there is Burger and Lobster, the location of my dinner tonight. The name just about says it all. You can have burger, or lobster, or both (or lobster in a brioche roll). That’s the extent of it (hence why perhaps their website is so decidedly bare). The dishes are £20 each. Simples, as the meerkats would have it. Yet for your highly reasonable £20, you get a lobster which is so meaty, and so decidedly unfiddly, that you barely need that funny little fork thing that comes with lobster, and can munch on the freshly grilled flesh to your heart’s desire, along with the moorish salad and chips which accompany it.

The eponymous lobster

Burger and Lobster, Mayfair

So need Mayfair be monopolised by the dark blue hue of extravagant wealth? Apparently not. Our dinner tonight was excellent value, and came accompanied by a healthy portion of salted caramel cheesecake and some bubbles, all billing at around £40 per person. The only slight snag is you can’t book ahead. We went along shortly after 6pm and at that time had an hour to wait, but this was conveniently filled by some quail eggs and wine at Fortnum’s local winebar – a suitable restoration for two lawyers after a full days work of legal wrangling.

Shanaz’s lobster roll

Cassandra’s grilled lobster

So for your fill of mid-week extravagance, head along to one of Burger and Lobster’s 4 London branches (Soho, Mayfair, Farringdon, City), and if you do have to wait for a table, fill the waiting time (in Mayfair at least) with a drink in Fortnums, a guilty peek at nearby Laudurée’s delectable macaron selection or, if you’re really lucky, why not pop into the Royal Academy, Mayfair’s pre-eminant art establishment, where a Manet blockbuster is due to open its doors within days.

I leave this post with some shameless self-promotion – my paintings of lobsters (sans burgers) – just to get you in the mood 🙂

The Gentleman (in Paris) 2012 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, acrylic on canvas

Joie de Vivre/ Zest of Life 3: Casino Nights (2005 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, acrylic on canvas)

Nicholas in the Renaissance (detail) (2008 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, oil on canvas)

Goodnight!

Fortnum & Mason has record-breaking Christmas (telegraph.co.uk)
Food Glorious Food: Burger & Lobster (onefinestay.com)

Jan 14

6 Comments

Pizzetta by Polpo

It’s official, I’ve gone Polpo-loco. Following Saturday’s octopussy success, on Sunday I went Pizzetta crazy, producing some 12 mini pizzas as inspired by the London eatery Polpo‘s glorious cookbook which was undoubtedly my favourite Christmas gift this year.

I was a little put off by the prospect of making my own dough, what with a day of painting ahead and a pile of Sunday-night ironing to get through and very little time for kitchen disasters. However, the toppings were almost too tempting to bare, and there was no way I was going to contaminate the fine flavours with a shop-bought pizza base. So, following the Polpo recipe, I set about making my pizzetta dough which, as it turned out, was as easy as it was enjoyable – all that kneading was both a stress reliever and January workout for the arms, which is good, because two weeks in and my new year’s resolution to workout daily is failing abominably.

My dough, ready to go…

To make the dough, you just take 500g of strong white flour, and mix this in a bowl with 300ml of tepid water, 15g of salt (2 teaspoons) and a 7g sachet of fast action dried yeast (or 15g if you can get your hands on fresh). Once mixed into a ball, you knead the dough for about 10 minutes on a floured surface, stretching the dough and then bringing it back into a ball, doing this again and again until the dough feels springier. I kneaded mine while watching Francesco Di Mosto’s BBC Venice series – a perfect accompaniment to my Venetian culinary adventure.

Once kneaded, place your dough in a bowl covered with oiled clingfilm and leave somewhere warm until the dough doubles in size (at least 30 minutes). Then, divide the dough into 12 pieces and roll out each into an approx. 20 cm disk and then get creative with your toppings. I tried the following…

Prosciutto & Asparagus and Zuccini, Chilli and Mint

Pizzetta Bianca and Anchovy, olive and basil

Spinach with a soft-cooked egg

Mortadella with gherkins and blue cheese/ Salami Milano with fennel

Rosemary and potato/ Prosciutto, mushroom and blue cheese

Salami, sundried tomatoes and torn basil

The combinations above are pretty self-explanatory, and who needs a recipe when you have the blank canvas of pizza dough before you. But a few tips: I started off with a basic cheese base of half grated parmesan and a scattering of good quality mozzarella. Don’t overload your pizzetta with cheese or they will be soggy.

If potato and rosemary is your thing, thinly slice a potato and blanch the potato in boiling water for about 30 seconds before placing on the pizza. Do the same with the asparagus if using it with prosciutto as above. The spinach combination is a large handfull of wilted spinach chopped with half a clove of finely chopped garlic and a tablespoon of creme fraiche – cover your pizzetta base with the spinach mix and crack an egg over the top before placing straight in the oven – be sure not to overcook – that egg needs to be nice and runny. Oh, and don’t forget to season your pizzas as you would any other food, and a good douse of olive oil certainly adds the magic touch just before serving.

Re cooking, restaurant ovens are around 300C. My oven only goes up to 275C which was good enough – but make sure you heat your baking trays before hand so the base of the pizzetta’s go nice and crispy. Each pizza should only take around 6 minutes.

These pizzetta’s are so easy to make and somehow less daunting than full sized pizzas. Plus, you get to sample a more varied palate of delicious Italian ingredients in a single meal. Buon appetito!

Polpo by Polpo (daily-norm.com)

Jan 12

3 Comments

Polpo by Polpo

It took me almost a week to take down my Christmas decorations. What with last weekend being my partner’s 30th, I had to risk superstition and undress each Christmas tree, one evening at a time this week after work. Finally, on Thursday night, I put away the last strand of tinsel and wrapped the last of my vast bauble collection and started turning my mind to the summer.

It’s not the easiest of tasks when a glimpse outside of the window presents a vision of dreary grey England, leafless trees straining to hold onto their roots in a blustery winter wind, and people wrapped head to toe in their winter woolies. Yet while the eyes may face the disappointment of a continuing wintery outlook, the other senses remain open to the invitation of an early summer. And so, to my kitchen I have headed, ready to tempt my taste buds and my nose with the smells and flavours of a verdant green and azul blue summer. For in my opinion, there is nothing quite like bringing the food of the Mediterranean into your home to kick away those winter blues.

At Christmas I received a beautifully presented cookbook (after much well-placed hinting), Polpo, a book of Venetian-based cuisine flaunting the flavours of that deeply charismatic little island and the delicate tastes of the Adriatic beyond. The book is a collection of recipes from the London based eatery of the same name, whose philosophy is simple: to capture the essence of the Venetian backstreets, where quaint little bacari serve a plethora of deceptively simple but delicious Italian treats.

I couldn’t wait to delve into this book, littered as it is with sumptuous views of Venice, and offering some 140 recipes inspired by the dazzling city. It is perhaps no coincidence that the first recipe I tried was the very thing that the restaurant was named after: octopus, or polpo. However, it wasn’t actually the book which engendered this desire to eat polpo. Rather, having spent the last two nights occupied in another of my winter-beating activities, looking for summer holidays, my search through holiday deals in the South of France and the Italian riviera brought to mind a delicious yet simple dish of polpo with potatoes which I devoured, with a glass of chilled prosecco, in San Vincenzo in Tuscany last summer. This was my inspiration, and to my great pleasure, Polpo had a recipe which was perfect in fulfilling my desire to recreate that hot July day in January.

San Vincenzo’s version of the salad

and the Prosecco

So, to make a warm octopus salad, you need (for 4 persons) a medium sized octopus. Frozen is as good as any, not least because this helps to tenderise the flesh. I got mine from the local fishmongers, although it was Spanish in origin, and weighed in at 1.5kg. Defrost the octopus (and if it’s not frozen, consider freezing it first to get it nice and tender) and place in a large pan of unsalted water with a couple of roughly chopped celery sticks, the stalks of a bunch of parsley, an onion chopped in half, and a fennel bulb also chopped in half. This should be simmered for around 40-60 minutes until a fork can easily pierce the flesh. Mine was closer to 40 mins. Watch out you don’t overcook it.

Meanwhile, peel and chop 3-4 waxy potatoes into bite sized pieces and simmer until cooked. Again make sure these aren’t over cooked. They need to hold their shape, not crumble.

Beautiful raw octopus

The octopus cooking

When the octopus is done, chop it into bite sized pieces, removing the eyes, claw etc if you still have them on, and remove as much of the slimey under skin layer if you can (you can leave the nice pink skin around the tentacles – it’s the best bit). Rinse these pieces under clean warm water and place in a large bowl with your cooked potatoes, a finely chopped clove of garlic, a handful of chopped parsley, a teaspoon of dried chilli flakes, a good glug of good quality olive oil (mine comes direct from said town in Tuscany) and the juice of around half a lemon. Season well and serve.

Cooked

And chopped

The finished dish

The flavours of the Med (and Venice, I suppose) are just sublime, and guaranteed to brighten any cold winter’s day with the thoughts of the summer. Right, I’m off to book that summer holiday…

Jan 8

7 Comments

Duck & Waffle – a combination worth climbing 40 floors for

There are restaurants, and then there are Restaurants. You have your bog-standard local, great for a catch-up with friends, a quick snack when lunching alone, or a dinner when you really can’t be bothered to cook. But then there are the Restaurants – the crème de la crème of gastronomic performance, where a reservation is a date with the chef, a ticket at food theatre, or a seat in a location which dazzles like a cinematic display of visual glory. It was to one such gastronomically glorious location that I headed at the weekend, in celebration of my partner’s 30th birthday, which clearly called for something special. And where does one go to celebrate such a magnificent (if not daunting!) event, to mark the ascension to the ripe old years of proper, responsible adulthood? Why, I could think of no better than to ascend the dizzying heights of London’s newest skyscraper: The Heron, upon which, at the dazzling 40th floor, sits the Duck & Waffle restaurant, in a supper sleek, panorama-spectacular glass cube all of its own.

This was a super-exciting event. I’d kept the reservation a secret, but knew nothing of the restaurant itself except that the views promised to be nothing short of spectacular. So ascending from Liverpool Street station, and catching my first glimpse of the heroically high tower which was to be the location of our dinner made for quite an eye-full. As we passed the foot of the huge glass tower, and saw within the main foyer a fish tank bigger than my entire flat, I knew that we were in for a treat. And soon, thereafter, did my partner, as I took a sharp turn into the building that was to be the host of his birthday treat, and we ascended, at super-sonic pace, all 40 floors up to the restaurant. The speed not only made our stomach’s lurch, but the visual spectacle as street turned to streets and district turned to entire glittering city struck us both pretty dumb with awe. Almost shaking as we reached the top, I managed to vocalise the name of our reservation, before we passed through a bar, where a plummeting orange glass spiral staircase overlooked (yes, that’s overlooked) the shorter Gherkin tower to stunning effect, and into the restaurant.

The interior

Most tables benefit from the great view

The restaurant is surrounded on three sides by an unbeatable panorama which extends so far over London that the horizon blurs with the sky and all you can see is a galaxy of twinkles. From our beautiful window-side table, we looked straight onto the Gherkin, and beyond Tower Bridge, under which the Thames snaked its way towards the towers of Canary Wharf from where the view grew misty. In fact by dessert the whole view had gone rather misty – I think we may have found ourselves in a cloud. Anyway, I digress. The interior is funky and modern, with a golden yellow ceiling which appears to be rippling, and an open kitchen which allows you to check out what the busy chefs are up to.

Our view with chef reflected

and again

The great thing about the restaurant is that for the views, it’s very unpretentious. The menu is even affordable, and the whole outfit is quite casual and trendy. The food is served in a tapas style – the intention is to share dishes which range from snack-sized bites, sushi-style raw fish and a range of mediterranean breads, to cold cuts and speciality mains including the restaurant namesake, duck and waffle. The dishes then come as and when they are ready which, in our case, was sequenced pretty much in size order starting with the snacks, bread and raw fish and ending with the duck.

Our table!

We went for 6 dishes spread from across the menu. We started with dates wrapped in bacon with a creamy mustard side sauce – the flavours were so good I could have eaten a whole basket full of these things. From the breads, we went for a garlic and rosemary foccacia. The smells immediately transported us to Italy’s mediterranean coast, and the flavours were deliciously pungent and well seasoned, although the bread itself was a bit doughy in the middle. Onto the raw fish – exquisite strips of tuna, served with a small cube of watermelon, a tiny basil leaf and drizzled with a balsamic glaze which made for a perfect balance of flavour. As ever, the aromatic basil won me over as it does in most food combinations.

Onto the slightly bigger choices, we had a sizzling baked golden beetroot dish which was accompanied by creamy goat’s curd and honeycomb – so good, although the delicious honeycomb did tend to cling onto my teeth with unnecessary enthusiasm. We also had a deliciously spanish octopus cooked with chorizo. However the best dish of all had to be the trademark duck and waffle. Oh my goodness, the very thought of that dish makes me salivate like the Niagara Falls. A Belgian-style waffle was topped with an unctuous leg of duck and a gooey fried egg, over which one poured (to taste) an ambrosial syrupy nectar which appeared to be maple syrup with mustard seeds giving a slightly fiery, textured edge. The dish was so delicious, and the syrup so exquisitely sinful that I actually ended up drinking the residual syrup straight from the jug (no one was looking!). I would walk the 40 floors to get to that dish if I had to!

The famous duck and waffle

We ended our evening with two selections from a great dessert choice. My partner had gooey chocolate brownies, again with honeycomb and peanut butter icecream. I had a spiced pear “cappuccino” which was a pear syrup and froth, spiced, with chunks of pear and gingerbread – very festive and just about appropriate as it was the 12th day of Christmas.

And so ended our fantastic night. This restaurant is a must for those who love a good view. It is simply mind-blowing. The food is not overly expensive, although it can mount up if you have too many dishes (which is the temptation – the portions aren’t that large). The wines are expensive though. The cheapest bottle of red I could find was £40 so we opted for a couple of glasses instead. The main drawback for me was the fact that the open kitchen was very smoky. The aromas of all the cooking, grilling and frying were very cloying in the air which is not ideal for an enclosed glass space – like frying bacon inside a hot greenhouse. This left us smelling quite heavily of fried food when we left. But we weren’t overly bothered. That view will stay with us for much longer, and as for the lift journey down, we took the lift up and down about 3 times – it was like a fairground ride with the best ever view – priceless!

It was a long way up…

The staircase in the bar – check out the gherkin outside

Details of the Duck & Waffle can be found here. Allegedly they’re open 24/7 so if you ever happen to be strolling through the city at 3am (which won’t be such a novelty for the city lawyers I know) that syrupy duck treat will lift your spirits in no time.

Dec 27

7 Comments

The culinary bounties of a Christmas Day feast

As the saying goes, the show must go on, and despite news which rocked my family to its core, the most important thing, for me, was to keep the flame of Christmas burning, despite the grief all around. In that vain, I decorated, I cooked and I ate to my heart’s content, and here within are the fruits of my labour (and product of my hefty post-Christmas weight gain)…

A starter of Scallops with clementine, ham, almond and an oloroso dressing

This starter was taken from a recipe by Richard Corrigan in the style section of The Sunday Times a few weeks back. It made for a refreshing, bright and beautifully balanced start to what can often be a heavy Christmas feast, and brought a burst of Spain into an otherwise traditionally dressed English dining room. (Serves 8)

I started by making a dressing for the salad. For this, to the juice of 2 clementines I added 2 tablespoons of caster sugar, 4 tablespoons of oloroso (or other dry) sherry, 2 tablespoons of sherry vinegar, 12 tablespoons of olive oil and a pinch of salt. Setting aside the dressing for now, I peeled the outer leaves from a 750g bag of brussel sprouts (leave the centres for a further sprout dish later) and blanched them in boiling salted water for around 30 seconds before plunging them into iced water to bring out the green and stop any cooking. I then assembled my salad – I broke up 8 clementines and placed these into bowls alongside the drained brussel sprout leaves, 16 slices of torn up parma ham and a scattering of salted almonds.

I then set about frying my scallops (3-4 per person) for around 2 minutes on each side (less if they’re smaller) and placed these atop my salad as the crowning glory. All was finished with my Spanish dressing and some seasoning.

The main event – Guinea fowl with sweet potato and marshmallow gratin, sauteed brussel sprouts (with chestnuts and bacon), red cabbage and apple, and spinach and parmesan stuffing balls.

The Guinea Fowl

I hadn’t eaten guinea fowl for years until I sampled it again at the wedding of my friend Celia and realised how delicious it is (I believe my propensity not to eat the bird was probably down to my fondness for guinea pigs when I was younger and the inevitable confusion which may have ensued). So, with my two guinea fowl in tow (these should feed 4 easily, 6 at a squeeze), I wrapped the birds in 16 slices of pancetta, enclosing a few sage leaves underneath. Placing the birds in a pan, I then doused the lot in a little olive oil, two ample blobs of butter, 200ml of white wine, seasoning and a few more sage leaves. The birds were then ready to go into the oven at 170 degrees centigrade (if it’s a fan oven, up to 190 if not).

My guinea fowl pre-cooking

After an hour, I turned both birds onto their breasts, turned the heat down to 150 (170 if not a fan oven) and cooked for a further hour. I should note that I did use foil for around an hour of the cooking to lock in the moisture and prevent the pancetta from burning. However the same effect can probably be gained from regular basting. Once the birds are done, make sure you rest them. I rested them in their pan (covered in foil) for a good 30 minutes which ensured the meat was moist, unctuous and literally fell apart in the mouth.

Nov 28

3 Comments

Saffron Risotto with a gathering of autumn flavours, edible gold leaf and an espresso reduction

I always thought I had risotto down until I watched an episode of Australia’s Masterchef on TV the other day (yes, we have the Aussie show in the UK and it’s so much better than the British version – Apprentice challenges meets cooking stress – classic). A couple of weeks back, the budding final 10 contestants had flown half way around the world to the lavish panoply of gastronomic delights that is Italia. Across the week, the illusive risotto, previously termed “the masterchef death dish” (because so many contestants failed in their attempts to cook it), was cooked twice – and appropriately so, being as they were in the home of the famed rice-based dish. For the first, a saffron-yellow, creamy and simple risotto was topped by a single sheaf of edible gold leaf and frankly looked amazing (needless to say, most of the contestants failed in their attempts to recreate the dish). The second risotto was made in a master-class at the end of the week. Again, the recipe was for a simple risotto, which, instead of adding onions at the beginning, added them right at the end as a type of purée. I was inspired.

So last weekend, I decided that my tried and tested risotto method should be set aside for a new radical approach which was to be something of a combination of the two methods I saw on TV with a little of my own twist on top.

Up first was the stock. I used 900ml of ordinary chicken stock and added to this the dried old husks from a hunk of parmesan cheese which had been hanging around in my fridge. This lends a wonderfully rich parmesan undercurrent to the risotto without going overkill at the end. I also added some chunks of ham and a good pinch of saffron strands straight from my spanish travels. I allowed this stock to simmer gently while getting on with the other components.

My red onion purée

Up next, I chopped an onion (it should be a white one – I only had red, which tends to redden the saffron yellow colour of the risotto when stirred in at the end, but it’s not a big deal). I sweated my onion, covered, over a low heat in plenty of butter (a good 50g worth) and seasoning. I left the onion to sweat for a good 20 minutes, before adding it to a food processor, along with another knob of butter and making a creamy puree. This I then placed in the fridge to firm up a bit for use later.

Next, while the onions were sweating, I turned to my espresso reduction – This creates a wonderful deep, almost bitter-sweet contrast to the richness of the risotto’s parmesan flavour, and looks amazing when painted onto the plate. For the reduction, I made two double espressos in my coffee machine, and adding a single sachet of sugar (about a dessert spoon) and the coffee to a pan, I started simmering the coffee fairly rapidly, stirring often, until it started to reduce. Be careful this doesn’t burn or the espresso will become too bitter. Once thickened and syrupy, I set aside (keeping warm).

Before moving onto the risotto, I chopped around half a butternut squash, seasoned, drizzled with oil and placed in the oven at 200 degrees Celsius.

OK, onto the risotto. So in a pan went 200g of arborio rice, which I toasted lightly in a few knobs of melted butter for a minute or so. Then, straight to the rice (no wine added in this recipe) I went with my first ladle-full of stock, stirring appropriately. On masterchef, George, the presenter, suggested that one should “aggravate” rather than stir the risotto – personally, in my pans, it’s stir or stick, so I ignored his approach, but feel free to shake the rice around a lot rather than stir if you have a really effective non-stick pan. Taking the dish one ladle-full at a time, the rice started to become thicker and yellower and overall more delicious.

As the risotto neared its completion, I fried up a good handful of sliced mushrooms (you can use any variety, the prettier the better) in some butter and oil, along with some chopped sage, a crushed garlic clove, seasoning and some chopped parma ham (pancetta would also work well). These create some amazing autumn flavours and a textural variation to the risotto. Before the autumn ingredients were done, and once the stock was used up, I left my risotto to rest for 4-5 mins with the lid on (the risotto, once cooked, should be creamy and yet loose, with the rice tender, but still with some bite).

So, pulling everything together, I first painted my plates with the espresso reduction. I then stirred my onion puree into the risotto – so creamy and amazing it made me salivate instantly. I then spooned the risotto onto my plates, and carefully piled some of the butternut squash and mushroom mix onto it. I then crowned my dish with a few fragments of edible gold leaf in homage to the incredible creation I saw made on TV.

And there you have it. The new radical approach to cooking risotto worked. No wine, no parmesan at the end, but with an onion puree and a very original coffee puree on the side. So different from my previous method, but so, so good.

Nov 20

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Lisbon – The Food: Amazing Alma and the masterpiece of 100 Maneiras

You’d be excused from assuming, from the deterioration which is widespread on Lisbon’s streets, the chipped ceramics and the cracking plaster, the plethora of graffiti and the deserted algae-covered fountains, that the Portuguese would be a little behind on the food front too. But like so much of the underlying spirit of Lisbon, when it comes to trends, to creativity, to meeting the fashion vibes that spread through the most sophisticated cities of Europe, Lisbon is certainly plugged in to the undercurrent of cool.

When it came to food during our five days in Lisbon, we simply didn’t have a bad meal. Whether it be the freshest of all sushi at the Restaurante Confraria Lx and simple squid with vegetables sat out on the cobbled streets of the Baixa, to simple pastels de nata in any random street cafe of your choice, we were met with consistently high standards of food, the freshest of ingredients and prices which were half what you would pay in some neighbouring Spanish cities, let alone the outrageous excesses of London and Paris.

Of our evening meals – the sushi at Confraria Lx, followed by an evening spent in the charming surrounds of the Restaurante Olivier (where a tasting menu for starter plus a main course was only around 35 euros), two meals were absolute standout exceptions, so good in fact that I couldn’t resist but take photos aplenty and devote to them an entire post all of their own.

Alma – Henrique Sa Pessoa – Calçada Marques de Abrantes, 92 Santos – Lisboa

The first of the two was at Alma, the restaurant of fresh-faced Portuguese celebrity chef (who spent some of his time training at the Park Lane Hotel in London’s Mayfair). The restaurant itself is very small and VERY white – the chairs, tables, walls together with a rather hypnotic white cloud swaying suspended from the ceiling are all similarly, clinically white. This doesn’t make for the cosiest of atmospheres, but mercifully, with low lighting and due to the restaurant’s sheer popularity, we certainly felt warm and very welcome.

The service was faultlessly efficient, speedy but not rushed, and with perfect english spoken by all. We even got to meet the celebrity chef himself when I complimented him on the quality of the food – that personal touch sets this restaurant apart – in English celebrity chef-owned restaurants, you’d be lucky to get the “celeb” cooking in the kitchen at all, let alone greeting his guests.

So talking of that food, well avoiding the tasting menu for one evening (we had been stuffing ourselves rather royally during the preceding days) we opted for a set menu with the usual choice of starter, main and dessert. But normal this dinner was not. The quality of the wines (we opted for the chef’s choice of matching wines), the bread, the stylisation of the food – all was exquisite.

So to start, after home made flat breads and a rosemary and garlic foccacia, I opted for a starter of strawberry gazpacho (such a good combination of the acidic vinegary base coupled with the roundness and sweetness of the strawberry) with a little filo parcel of goats cheese, while my partner went for squid and prawns sautéed in garlic and chilli, with a cherry tomato compote and a rocket and parmesan salad.

To follow, the stakes were upped. I had an exquisite duck which was perfectly seasoned and marinated in chinese spices and sesame seeds together with a sweetcorn salad and little shiitake mushrooms wrapped in… what were they wrapped in? Cabbage? I can’t remember. Nonetheless it was delicious! My partner meanwhile opted for a roast fillet of cod with a chick-pea purée, chickpea vinaigrette, and roasted potatoes – a faultless combination of Portuguese flavours with an elegant twist.

For dessert, we shared a combination of the creamiest but not at all heavy raspberry and lemongrass crème brûlée with a coconut tuile (thus combining French classic with tropicana bay to dreamy effect), and a plum crumble with a coconut ice cream. And as if we hadn’t indulged ourselves enough then, dinner was rounded off with petit fours of salted caramel fudge and little chocolate truffles.

100 Maneiras – R. Teixeira 35, 1200-459 Lisboa

But as far as feasts go, Alma was just the starter to the gastronomical banquet which ensued. Read more

Nov 19

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Lisbon – Day Five: Bye Bye via the Baixa

Four full days in Lisbon was, it turned out, a convenient little break in which to comfortably and conveniently explore the best of the city’s four main regions: the hill of Bairro Alto, the hill of Alfama, out to Belém and back to the large avenidas of the Baixa, splaying upwards from the Tagus and outwards North of the city in a valley between the two hills. Although this was officially our fifth day in the city, the first, once we had arrived, was more of an evening of orientation. Today, with our suitcases packed, and the Lx Boutique Hotel left behind, the bulk of the day reminded available for discovery, with an evening flight giving us time for one last Lisbon hurrah. It was to the Baixa we headed, perhaps mercifully so, as after four previous days of trekking up what are, at times, the steep streets of Lisbon, the Baxia provided plenty of spacious, flat boulevards and squares for us to explore with comparative ease.

Chestnut seller

The Baixa region is far more typical of a southern European city. Built in the aftermath of Lisbon’s deadly 1755 earthquake in a grid-like layout which allowed for wide sweeping avenues and grand open squares, the Baixa really shows off Lisbon to the full. This is where you find the opulent fountains, the monuments, the old palaces and the new shopping districts which are to be expected of a capital city. Here the buildings are largely Neo-Classical, grander and better preserved. The streets bustle not just with tourists but with the working masses of the city. And although the sun was shining hard, the many shops lining the grand boulevards were packed with Christmas goodies, while on the roadsides, chestnuts were being roasted pouring plumes of smoke into the air and spreading a distinctive warming smell of Christmas all around.

We began the day in the Praça do Municipio, and more particularly the City Hall, where an incredibly interesting, and free of charge photography exhibition examined Lisbon’s significant role during WW2. As a neutral country and on the edge of Europe, Lisbon became a place of escape from the toils of Europe. It handled the exile of significant numbers of escaping Jewish refugees, but was also a place of espionage, spies and political deals, as both Germany and England fought to keep the favour of Salizar and in particular ensure supplies of the natural minerals which, once mined, could prove significant to the production of weaponry during the war. But despite all of this, Lisbon retained some element of normality during a time of European strife. For those lucky enough to have escaped the rest of warring Europe, Lisbon was a place of relative tranquility, albeit laced with suspicion, full of secret police and suffering more and more from food shortages as the war went on.

Back in the modern world, and turning from the photos of black and white to the vivid blues of a Portuguese sky, the deep “royal” yellow of the old palace surrounding the impressive Praça do Comércio, and the reds and yellows of the old trams passing through the square, we headed to this former site of the Portuguese royal palace before it became administrative offices of the Republican government following Portugal’s 1910 revolution. Open on one end of the square to the glittering River Tagus beyond, we determined the square to be a perfect location for a coffee, sitting down to do just that while basking in the sun for as long as possible before our later departure to colder climes.

After coffee, we crossed under the impressive triumphal arch to the north of the square, up the Ruo Augusta and into the shopping streets and the great squares beyond. The decay and detrioration of much of Lisbon was not so obvious here, as grandeur dominated and scale took over.

In the Praça Dom Pedro IV, two huge working fountains made a marked contrast to the fountains further North in the city, left to go green with disuse. The square is flanked on one side by the eye-catching Neo-Manueline face of the Rossio Station, complete with two Moorish-style horse-shoe arches and, sadly, a Starbucks. To the North, another grand square, the Praça dos Restauradores boasts a grand obelisk, adorned with sculptures paying homage to those who gave their life during the War of Restoration, while to the East, the Praça da Figuera is home to hundreds of pigeons and the imposing statue of King João I. Here you can quite clearly see Lisbon in its heyday, the grand European capital which was saviour to so many during WW2. You can sense the splendour of the past and see history and grandeur oozing from every building facade and lamp post. And unlike many other European capitals, the squares of Lisbon benefit from the rolling topography of its surroundings, so that in every grand boulevard and Praça, a backdrop of the Alfama and the Castelo de São Jorge, or a straight vista to the sparkling Tagus, provides the visitor with a multi-layered feast for the eyes. A landscape rich in its historical and architectural diversity.

Both history and architecture collided to stunning effect in one of the last surprises of the trip. En route to the Rua de Santo Antão, famed for its fish restaurants, we passed through the Largo São Domingos, a little square sandwiched inbetween its grander neighbours, and, passing the fairly innocuous facade of São Domingo thought we may as well drop in. What we saw upon our entrance made me gasp out loud.

Unmentioned in my travel guide, and not at all obvious from the outside, the interior of this church made my heart miss a beat. Not because of the usual offerings of elaborate gilded beauty and over the top baroque decorations. Quite the opposite. Apparently (so I have learned subsequently), the church suffered a huge fire in 1954, with the result that its interior ornamentation, surface marbles, stone work – pretty much every embellishment was completely destroyed. Having never been renovated, but only the ceiling painted a terracotta orange, the church is utterly bare of all ornamentation, showing its raw and tender bruising and wounds with the dignity of a religious martyr; its statues now unrecognisable, its stone work covered in huge great cracks, holes and patches of damp and detritus. Where the sun streamed in through the southern windows and hit various aspects of the architectural damage, it looked like the church had been submerged for centuries under an ocean gloom, only recently recovered and showing the acid wounds of its salty submersion, or like the cobweb covered, partially decomposed wedding banquet of Dickens’ Miss Havisham. And this deeply inflicted damage was all the more obvious and painful because this church has not been left as ruins. Rather, as a fully used institution, the tidy pews and perfectly smooth ceiling mark a dramatic contrast to the wounds inflicted underneath. This was an unmissable experience, a moment of great epiphany and one which no visitor to Lisbon should miss.

So the day was proceeding fast, and all that really remained for us to do was to sit back, in the glaring autumn sunshine, and enjoy a perfect plate of squid and octapus and a few glasses of ice cold white wine, whiling away the remaining hours before the inevitable return journey began. Time to reflect on a grand tour through a compact but multifaceted city, from castles to rivers, and art museums to stunning churches; time to appreciate the wonderful Lx Boutique Hotel, the great food consumed, and the fantastic restaurants found to recommend and maybe return to one day; time to enjoy the heat of summer once more, before the start of a long frosty winter back in London.

Like the fall of autumn leaves on a windy November day, the scenes from that sun-drenched lunchtime are now dissipating away, as I sit here, returned to London, back in the darkness of a winter’s evening. Distracted by the work I must return to, the practicalities of ironing, and washing, and making myself food, my connection with my holiday grows weaker by the minute, as the warmth of the sun is forever shrouded in the weak light of November, and our shiny red cockerel is the sole remaining proximity to the spirited Portugal of our holiday’s brief acquaintance. But with this blog, my separation is tempered, my ties with Lisbon reforming as I reconnect through cyberspace and share my experiences with you all. Day five is over, but my memories have only just begun.

Still to come: Lisbon – the food, and many more photos. See you then.

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