Friday night saw carciofi coi piselli (globe artichokes with peas and buttery, pancetta-ey juices) followed by linguini al limone and seville orange ice crema to finish. I was cooking for Bez and he brought along a beautiful champagne; having started with both beer and gin, we stuck with the fizzy stuff for the rest of the night. I'm still not sure about artichokes; the amount you can't eat on it bothers me a bit, but in such buttery juices it is hard to complain too much. And it was only a starter after all. The recipe was from Anna del Conte's 'Concise gastronomy of Italy'.
The lemon linguini is one of my perennial favourites - very easy and always very good, one of the best thing to do with pasta, alongside proper carbonara. For two or three people, I make up the whole lot for six people and then cook less pasta; noone ever says it is too rich that way, and everyone always has seconds and thirds. I'm eating the leftovers tonight, fried, with a little pancetta and more cream, lemon and parmesan.
Saturday saw a trip to Borough Market where the first stop was a Monmouth coffee to cure my hangover; and a second stop to (finally) taste the falafal which I have been admiring from a distance. I also bought the most delicious looking steak ever seen, for the evening.
The evening saw my sister, brother in law, Bez and me with a summery pimms and a big menu. My sister had been busy! As a St. George's day celebration she had selected foods only from England... and decorated her hall like the terraces of a world cup match, all red cross flags!
Homemade leek and potato soup (with 'happy chicken' stock)
Goats cheese salad (with wine from Kent)
Borough Market's best sirloin steak with horseradish mash, purple sprouting and carrots. Accompanied by some completely gorgeous wine, again chosen by Bez.
Eve's pudding with west country thick cream.
There were allegedly cheeses too, but we were too drunk and full to remember!
A gorgeous feast; a gorgeously lazy, foodie weekend. May there be many more!
w
Sunday 22 April 2007
Sunday 1 April 2007
03/07 Miso
The mantra of Ranganathan fans is ‘to each reader his book; and to each book its reader’* an obvious but important maxim which at its most basic means fitting out each person with exactly the right book for them. Similarly, on a cold, wet Saturday afternoon, when I had exhausted my legs with a brisk trot around Hyde Park, followed by a brain-and-purse marathon in John Lewis’ Habadashery department, I found myself joyous at having fitted myself out with exactly the right choice of meal.
Miso is one of those generic restaurant chains serving south-east Asian food – the wannabe little sister of Wagamama, perhaps. It is rather a strange mix of foods, encompassing and mixing up, as it does, Thai, Chinese, Japanese and probably a whole host of things I don’t recognise as well. My noodles in soup promised on the page to be a fairly straight forward Japanese meal; but I was surprised by the very thin, wheat (I think) noodles, when I hoped for udon or soba. The mushrooms were beautifully tasty and exotic to look at; but the bamboo shoot and water chestnut slices a bit of a surprise. It was hot and soupy, the noodles luxuriated in a decent stock, and it was just the right dish at the right time; however it might have been even more delicious if I had no preconceptions about how it should taste, should one be sitting in a shopping mall or on a stool in a back street café, in a northern prefecture of Japan.
On a side note, the Japanese tea was just as I remember it should be, but again, I was just a little disappointed to have it in one of those ubiquitous white mugs that I so love to have coffee in. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to have some cheap, small cups without handles? And, and! there’s more to whinge about… the disposable chopsticks. Not the splinter-in-your-mouth sort, thank goodness, but it isn’t hard to wash up or provide a proper chopstick – both for environmental and aesthetic reasons. I suppose I’ll have to go back to my holiday habit of carrying chopsticks in my handbag.
Side notes: 2/5
A filling hot soup when cold and tired: 5/5
*this is a very roughly remembered quotation: sorely lacking in accuracy!
Miso is one of those generic restaurant chains serving south-east Asian food – the wannabe little sister of Wagamama, perhaps. It is rather a strange mix of foods, encompassing and mixing up, as it does, Thai, Chinese, Japanese and probably a whole host of things I don’t recognise as well. My noodles in soup promised on the page to be a fairly straight forward Japanese meal; but I was surprised by the very thin, wheat (I think) noodles, when I hoped for udon or soba. The mushrooms were beautifully tasty and exotic to look at; but the bamboo shoot and water chestnut slices a bit of a surprise. It was hot and soupy, the noodles luxuriated in a decent stock, and it was just the right dish at the right time; however it might have been even more delicious if I had no preconceptions about how it should taste, should one be sitting in a shopping mall or on a stool in a back street café, in a northern prefecture of Japan.
On a side note, the Japanese tea was just as I remember it should be, but again, I was just a little disappointed to have it in one of those ubiquitous white mugs that I so love to have coffee in. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to have some cheap, small cups without handles? And, and! there’s more to whinge about… the disposable chopsticks. Not the splinter-in-your-mouth sort, thank goodness, but it isn’t hard to wash up or provide a proper chopstick – both for environmental and aesthetic reasons. I suppose I’ll have to go back to my holiday habit of carrying chopsticks in my handbag.
Side notes: 2/5
A filling hot soup when cold and tired: 5/5
*this is a very roughly remembered quotation: sorely lacking in accuracy!
03/07 Lido, Hyde Park
Whilst on a cold walk round Hyde park, accompanied only by a biting wind and a regret for forgetting my gloves, I had an urge to stop for a coffee. This is always a disappointing experience as invariably the nearest four are Starbucks, or variations thereof, filled with prams, teenagers and no empty seats. I find the whole experience so traumatic and the coffee so awful that I have mostly given up on the idea of a Saturday coffee.
So when I came across Lido, conveniently situated halfway round the lake, at just the moment I was thinking this, I rather expected the worst. I’m glad I dared myself inside though, because it was empty except for two tables, and clean. I couldn’t believe my luck! I got a latte – in one of those delightful, ubiquitous cups I love to drink coffee from; you know, conical, white, squareish handle – and a pack of shortbread.
I wish the shortbread had been home made and on a plate, rather than Walkers, wrapped in plastic; and I wish the coffee had been fabulous, rather than a bit burnt with a funny, almost metallic aftertaste… however I can barely bring myself to knock the experience, when I was so happy with my refreshment and empty café. I got a table by the window and watched a man feed half a smoked salmon bagel to his dog. Real love on a Saturday morning, and shortbread. What more could one need?
Coffee 3/5
Café and cheery staff: 5/5
So when I came across Lido, conveniently situated halfway round the lake, at just the moment I was thinking this, I rather expected the worst. I’m glad I dared myself inside though, because it was empty except for two tables, and clean. I couldn’t believe my luck! I got a latte – in one of those delightful, ubiquitous cups I love to drink coffee from; you know, conical, white, squareish handle – and a pack of shortbread.
I wish the shortbread had been home made and on a plate, rather than Walkers, wrapped in plastic; and I wish the coffee had been fabulous, rather than a bit burnt with a funny, almost metallic aftertaste… however I can barely bring myself to knock the experience, when I was so happy with my refreshment and empty café. I got a table by the window and watched a man feed half a smoked salmon bagel to his dog. Real love on a Saturday morning, and shortbread. What more could one need?
Coffee 3/5
Café and cheery staff: 5/5
14/10/06 Coffee
It is such an obvious subject, and one I get tedious over, but I am still finding aspects of coffee to marvel at. Once, when I was in the first flush of love for coffee, I made a chart so that each time I had coffee in new cafe I would award it marks on strength, froth texture, size, niceness of china and so forth. That could sound too pedantic for words, but I knew the best place for the best coffee to suit each mood - ok, I can't quite remember the merits, either. Today though, I am intrigued by its effects.
A small cappuccino in Solei café. Froth that resembled a Mr Whippy ice cream and slightly insipid underneath; however, a coffee that lacks the tastebuds is less likely to anger the stomach, which is no bad thing. It really shouldn't make a difference, but can’t help mentioning that I liked the cup and saucer too - chunky, small and white. I swear it tastes better from nice china! And at £1.10 to drink in, with those lovely people serving, the café was definitely a good find.
As I drank the coffee I was reading the Guardian’s ‘Food directory’ and became increasingly animated over the butchers, veg box schemes and markets to be found in London. I feel so spoilt being in London; there is so much variety, so many beautiful stores and fulsome markets and all a short tube or bus stop away. With a monthly travel card I don’t even have to pay extra to get there. Compare that with living in a ‘normal’ town or village where you have to face traffic and parking or several busses… it ends up a weekend-only venture.
Ah, I am rambling: back to the point. The coffee was waking up my tastebuds and my mind in equal measures. I began to make plans to visit the markets, perhaps when I meet up with my foodie friend one weekend, and we could find the best pork pie, or lemon tart. I wanted to explore West London’s fooderies - in fact, I wanted to look beyond the food shops into the world beyond… and off I went on a well-worn daydream about travelling and food.
By now, the coffee had awakened my appetite too so I took away some chickpea and spinach with couscous to eat on my sofa, where the sun was still lingering. As I left the shop it was no longer a place I might stop to have coffee sometime: it was a house of sublime aromas, flavours waiting to be discovered. I already have my next visit there planned - salami, pesto and mozarella toasted ciabatta. How good does that sound? I can smell it already.
My head still buzzing, I walked home and noticed shops and people I hadn’t seen in the last 4 months of living here: two teenage girls, late-night smoke voices, excited for having just rented a flat, ordering breakfast: an elderly black woman in white trainers, no socks, a pastal floral skirt and bright purple fleece, with a black beret, out shopping. An angular, aloof woman, slender in black trackie daks and top, looking disdainfully around her until she turned into the hairdressers (a shop with the charismatic name 'Hard as Nails'). From my morning stupour, the coffee had changed my mood, given me ideas and plans and, literally, made the sun shine.
My drug of choice: most definitely coffee.
A small cappuccino in Solei café. Froth that resembled a Mr Whippy ice cream and slightly insipid underneath; however, a coffee that lacks the tastebuds is less likely to anger the stomach, which is no bad thing. It really shouldn't make a difference, but can’t help mentioning that I liked the cup and saucer too - chunky, small and white. I swear it tastes better from nice china! And at £1.10 to drink in, with those lovely people serving, the café was definitely a good find.
As I drank the coffee I was reading the Guardian’s ‘Food directory’ and became increasingly animated over the butchers, veg box schemes and markets to be found in London. I feel so spoilt being in London; there is so much variety, so many beautiful stores and fulsome markets and all a short tube or bus stop away. With a monthly travel card I don’t even have to pay extra to get there. Compare that with living in a ‘normal’ town or village where you have to face traffic and parking or several busses… it ends up a weekend-only venture.
Ah, I am rambling: back to the point. The coffee was waking up my tastebuds and my mind in equal measures. I began to make plans to visit the markets, perhaps when I meet up with my foodie friend one weekend, and we could find the best pork pie, or lemon tart. I wanted to explore West London’s fooderies - in fact, I wanted to look beyond the food shops into the world beyond… and off I went on a well-worn daydream about travelling and food.
By now, the coffee had awakened my appetite too so I took away some chickpea and spinach with couscous to eat on my sofa, where the sun was still lingering. As I left the shop it was no longer a place I might stop to have coffee sometime: it was a house of sublime aromas, flavours waiting to be discovered. I already have my next visit there planned - salami, pesto and mozarella toasted ciabatta. How good does that sound? I can smell it already.
My head still buzzing, I walked home and noticed shops and people I hadn’t seen in the last 4 months of living here: two teenage girls, late-night smoke voices, excited for having just rented a flat, ordering breakfast: an elderly black woman in white trainers, no socks, a pastal floral skirt and bright purple fleece, with a black beret, out shopping. An angular, aloof woman, slender in black trackie daks and top, looking disdainfully around her until she turned into the hairdressers (a shop with the charismatic name 'Hard as Nails'). From my morning stupour, the coffee had changed my mood, given me ideas and plans and, literally, made the sun shine.
My drug of choice: most definitely coffee.
01/10/06 Pinch, Punch!
Oh goodie, first of the month: new slate with finances and a full budget for food! It is a terrible thing to budget for food; I would rather eat well and feel alive than spend money on going out, so I am more generous with the food budget - and often ‘borrow’ from the entertainment fund. With all my good intentions to stick to the budget this month, I have done a very useful shop which will make a few meals and hopefully leave a portion or two to freeze, to enjoy on busy days at work.
My good intentions however, are always weakened by talking to my friend Sarah. Whenever we speak she is in the middle of a new food-love which has me itching to get in the kitchen: today it was savoury pancakes and we discussed how to keep the pancakes warm without them going crisp. (Let them cool and put them in the oven once filled, was my solution). Her filling of choice: crisp, cooked pancetta, cheese and - heck! What was it? I must have already been dribbling and lost the end of the sentence; anyway, you get the point. Unbridled deliciousness.
Even better than a chat with Sarah however, is visiting her. I predict I will stick to budget until next weekend, when we will eat lovely things, and then I will come back to my cold little flat and go mad filling it with luscious smells and oven-warmth! Last time I visited she showed me her latest treasure: Delia’s oven baked carbonara risotto. Don’t bother trying to argue that an oven risotto is, surely, rice pudding? - just try it. After tasting it you forget the mechanics and have seconds instead. Yes, it’s going to be a good weekend!
My good intentions however, are always weakened by talking to my friend Sarah. Whenever we speak she is in the middle of a new food-love which has me itching to get in the kitchen: today it was savoury pancakes and we discussed how to keep the pancakes warm without them going crisp. (Let them cool and put them in the oven once filled, was my solution). Her filling of choice: crisp, cooked pancetta, cheese and - heck! What was it? I must have already been dribbling and lost the end of the sentence; anyway, you get the point. Unbridled deliciousness.
Even better than a chat with Sarah however, is visiting her. I predict I will stick to budget until next weekend, when we will eat lovely things, and then I will come back to my cold little flat and go mad filling it with luscious smells and oven-warmth! Last time I visited she showed me her latest treasure: Delia’s oven baked carbonara risotto. Don’t bother trying to argue that an oven risotto is, surely, rice pudding? - just try it. After tasting it you forget the mechanics and have seconds instead. Yes, it’s going to be a good weekend!
30/09/06 Tummy Soothers
The next week my tummy got worse: bloated and intermittently painful. A regular complaint that I can work round, but I get a little sulky about having to restrict what I eat to certain things, and found myself mutinously planning to go for a coffee. However it got worse - and with it, I was too exhausted to go anywhere - that I resolved to get better. I turned my thinking round and decided it was not going to be a weekend of denial, but more a weekend of soft food - warm, babyish, consoling foods: the only rule was that it had to be something I love.
First stop: ‘Stoop’. My mother’s invention of a cross breed soup / stew, invariably made with whatever was lying around plus some mince.
Friday’s Stoop:
Soften an onion and 4 cloves garlic in a pan with olive oil. Add 3 stalks celery, 1 carrot and 1 beetroot, all chopped small. When this has softened, add a pack of organic mince (beef on this occasion); stir until browned, then add lots of water to make a soupy consistency. Later, add (cooked) cannelloni beans, pepper and salt.
It feels mean-spirited, but I do normally add a tin of tomatoes and eat it all with bread: both sadly out of the question for now, at least.
Other meals were porridge made with rice milk and black sesame seeds, stewed green plums and honey with plain (full fat) yoghurt, and that most wonderful standby: mushroom risotto. Oh, and the risotto came with half a roasted butternut squash, a roasted beetroot and half a bulb of roasted garlic on the side… I am taking this autumn thing very seriously!
First stop: ‘Stoop’. My mother’s invention of a cross breed soup / stew, invariably made with whatever was lying around plus some mince.
Friday’s Stoop:
Soften an onion and 4 cloves garlic in a pan with olive oil. Add 3 stalks celery, 1 carrot and 1 beetroot, all chopped small. When this has softened, add a pack of organic mince (beef on this occasion); stir until browned, then add lots of water to make a soupy consistency. Later, add (cooked) cannelloni beans, pepper and salt.
It feels mean-spirited, but I do normally add a tin of tomatoes and eat it all with bread: both sadly out of the question for now, at least.
Other meals were porridge made with rice milk and black sesame seeds, stewed green plums and honey with plain (full fat) yoghurt, and that most wonderful standby: mushroom risotto. Oh, and the risotto came with half a roasted butternut squash, a roasted beetroot and half a bulb of roasted garlic on the side… I am taking this autumn thing very seriously!
Autumn 06
Sometimes you cook something so good that you can’t help marvel at it. You tell your friends, casually at first, and then insistently when they aren’t excited enough. You think about it, at your desk and smile a little. And then you just have to write it down to prevent the unthinkable - that you forget this delicious meal.
I always think the phrase ‘mellow fruitfulness’ is over-used and a bit over-the-top romantic, but this meal really woke my senses up and re-ignited my love of autumn: it is absolutely a season of mellow fruitfulness. How exciting we are just at the beginning!
So here it is:
Halve a small butternut squash which your mother sent to you via your sister on a train: scoop out the seeds and chuck in an oily baking tin, cut side down. When soft as butter, turn onto two plates and add:
- 'Mashed' potato - roughly forked, with olive oil and a grind of black pepper (I’d run out of butter)
- Pork and apple sausages, so sticky the frying pan is left looking marmitey
- A pile of cabbage from the veg box and an over-generous amount of onion gravy, made in same marmitey pan. Cook the onions for a long, long time in a slow pan.
I always think the phrase ‘mellow fruitfulness’ is over-used and a bit over-the-top romantic, but this meal really woke my senses up and re-ignited my love of autumn: it is absolutely a season of mellow fruitfulness. How exciting we are just at the beginning!
Inaugural blog
About six months later than intended, I finally get together The Food Blog I have been harping on about. Never let it be said that I am lacking when it comes to procrastination! Verdy, thank you for the poke in the ribs to actually do this, rather than keep writing on the back of wrapping paper and envelopes.
So: the backlog ...
So: the backlog ...
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