PdT

I am still on a cloud from eating out on Friday night at a well known, two starred restaurant on Charlotte Street.

The gent knows the Head chef, and also that he is leaving at the end of the month, hence our hurry to eat here this month. The magic started with being sent a glass of champagne, compliments of the chef. And didn't stop. We chose the tasting menu of 9 courses with the 'Decouverte' choice of wine matched with each course.

I made a big decision beforehand: I remember things so much better if I make a few notes and take photographs - and I really wanted to remember every bite of this. However, I also find it distracting to document sensations, it rather impedes enjoying them. So I left my camera at home. Although I have impressions of it all, the details are already fading. Here are some of the highlights.

Before we ordered anything, three or four tiny, delicious things were presented on a glass tray - including a filo-pastry and foie gras sandwich, balanced in the prongs of a silver, handle-less fork. A siren bread-boy kept trying to seduce us with his wares: luckily we had been warned that the bread was so delicious it would fill us up too soon, so we stopped our ears with beeswax and waved the boy away. The minx.

From the menu description I was sure I would like the fallow venison best. Or the yellow fin tuna. After the scallop and chicken oyster dish I was sure that was the best of the night ... but in the end, it was the pan fried foie gras that took my breath away. Yes, I realise I am gushing, but I think it the only reasonable response.

Before each course came a glass of wine. Where the food was described as the waiter placed it before us, the wine was presented only with smiles. We tasted, we speculated, the gent made educated guesses. Then, after the food was cleared, a Val Warner-alike advanced with the wine bottle and revealed its true identity, along with some choice descriptions and why he thought it complimented that particular course.

As we sipped an espresso, our senses bedazzled and overwhelmed - taking solace in a rack of petits fours - a waiter carried a chair to place next to our table and Chef himself came to see how we had liked the meal. He will be next at a certain restaurant in Bray, Berkshire for two weeks, then off traveling. Just as well, I was trying to work out how I could afford to come back to eat here every month. After 10 glasses of wine I might be excused such an idle thought.

An aside. One of my ongoing mini-obsessions on enjoying a meal, is what to wear. Not in the fashion sense, but rather, what enables you to enjoy eating to the maximum? I blush deeply to admit to my former, trouser-top-button-loosening (which I thought a discrete manoeuvre until more than one person mentioned it), and am trying to move on from HG's 'eating pants' reference to my restaurant-dressing. I have now firmly pledged my allegiance to the roomy frock. Friday night's was a particular success with the gent and, my vanity is pleased to report, he didn't see the beautiful draping as tummy-concealers, nor the soft jersey fabric as comfortably stretchy to allow the waist to expand with each course. In short, I think I got away with top comfort whilst, crucially, not being reduced to undressing in public.

I believe the other option is to leave a little food for Mr Manners on your plate. I can't imagine that happens often at Pied a terre


http://www.pied-a-terre.co.uk/
Head Chef, Nino Brullmann
Chef Patron, Shane Osborn


25/01/10

Persian orange chicken stew #2

The Persian stew rematch was set for 19th January, and Seville oranges bought. The result? A subtle difference, which I entirely agreed with, however next time I think it would be better to add in the segments of another orange. Although a slightly sharper edge, it was not quite as orange-tasting as I remembered. Seville's are so full of pips that it was almost impossible to free the segments intact from the pith, pips and skin: instead I had a mush of tiny pieces. It also seemed to result in less orange and juice than when we did this with sweet oranges.

The preparation was less jolly with no gent to chat to, however I prepped a fair amount the night before so that the next night there was just the fine slicing of carrots - and the rest of the stew is downhill after that! It was, as before, a lovely light, sustaining combination and seemed to go down well with my 'North London girls' who were as appreciative as they were cheerful and chatty. Perfect guests.

We followed this with some Seville orange ice cream I had made, which is possibly the least effort you can make whilst reaping maximum rewards. That the tub is now empty, barely a week later, with only one un-careful lady owner, speaks for itself.

What else can I do with these beautiful, bitter oranges?

How the Gouda tasted

Is 265g Gouda cheese in 24 hours, too much? I just ate a whole block in two sittings and am not sure of the health benefits or drawbacks. Lots of calcium long term, weighed against a mucousy short term future. The taste benefits I can testify to, though. Yesterday I paired it with a sharp little British Braeburn apple and some shortbread: today, eyes glazed, I just ate it slice by slice. The warmer it got, the better it tasted.

Last night I was surprised to come across 'Kombu' in my local supermarket: a Japanese ingredient of dried kelp, with which 'Dashi', a kind of stock, is made. My younger sister lived in Japan and she told me about it when I visited her there. I didn't purchase any, but instead came away with some sweet miso, which I mixed with water and simmered, then dropped in noodles, then the following, thinly sliced: chestnut mushrooms, leek and sprouts. After just a few minutes I decanted it all into a large bowl, added soy sauce and chilli flakes and lowered my face into the magic. It wasn't udon, there was no tempura or dancing fish flakes... but it was pure Japan on my tastebuds. Oishii!