Bath

Saturday the seventh of June was a trip to Bath Spa.



Due to my lateness in booking, and a recent letter from my bank, I ended up on a 7 am train (the very cheapest) out from Paddington - too early for a Saturday start. Naturally, after a marmite sandwich and a snooze, my first thought on arriving in the city of Bath was where to have a coffee? The first coffee is always the best of the day and I was anxious not to ruin it. It is no compensation to have a good coffee after a bad coffee: there is only one bite at that particular cherry.

Indulging myself, I took my favourite approach to a new town and ambled about without a map. I rounded a street corner to see the Abbey in its full splendour and sat in the sunny square, contemplating it. After heading up a main street and down several backstreets, acquiring the newspaper essential for browsing with the coffee, I chanced upon the Boston Tea Party http://www.bostonteaparty.co.uk/

So serendipitous that I had no choice but to go in and order homemade museli with banana and yoghurt and a Boston latte. In a way it was the lazy choice, as I adore the Exeter branch of this company, and could still allow myself to be snobbishly righteous about not using Costa, Starbucks et al. But I do love to compare.

A waiter carried my museli past while I still stood in the coffee queue, so I had to shout out to him and then stand in queue, holding my meal. Lucky it wasn't a hot breakfast. The coffee was as good as I remember from the Exeter branch, so I was happy. The newspaper looked promising - an article on sorrrel by Hugh F-W - and Andrea was on her way to find me. Sadly, the museli was less promising. Very dry, I tried to mix it with the yoghurt, however the bowl was so full that I couldn't move the spoon without the museli-sawdust flipping out of the bowl and breathing over my sleeve. I had to asked Andrea to fetch me some milk when she went in for her coffee. There were nice nuts and the yoghurt was nicely sour - one of those set yoghurts that look a bit lumpy when you spoon them out. I would have prefered it with something like Yeo Valley's full fat plain yogurt, and also some honey on top. And having maybe granola or Bircher museli underneath.

After the amazing spa, with its four flavours of steam room, foot spas, hot tub on the roof etc., I was hungry again. Our friends met us back at the Boston tea party for lunch where I ate delicious fritters of grated courgette, feta and pine nuts, with a minty, yoghurt dressing, on a salad. The salad was good and substantial enough, but the potatoes had perhaps been re-heated in a microwave as they had that slightly wrinkly, dry edged look. But they were covered in butter, and I was starving. On the whole I didn't go a bundle on their food, but the fritters rather inspired me to do something similar at home.

After a walk in the Botanical gardens we stopped at the Jazz Cafe, mere metres away from the Boston Tea Party. Although they didn't serve 'proper cake' and tea, as we had hoped, they did do desserts. The other three chose chocolate torte, which I hope you can see from the photo was similar to chocolate cups put over a biscuit base. Beautiful. It even had the sort of grain marks from the knife slicing through, and lifting away, from the chocolate. It tasted a little more creamy and a little less grainy than the chocolate pots I made, and perhaps slightly less dark. Each slice was vast, and too much for two out of three of my friends; quite a bit was left on plates. More than Mr Manners requires, anyway.

My lemon cheesecake was the winning bullet in the russian roulette that is eating shop-bought cheesecake. HG and I agree we make the best cheesecakes known to man (egos aside), and are invariably dissapointed by shop bought versions. Sometimes shop cheesecake is even quite horrible. So imagine my delight at a Proper Cheesecake - so obviously home baked, with its uneven browned edges and raised sides, with a moat of sunken cake inside. There was a crumb base to please HG who abhors 'pastry-stuff' as as a base and it was beautifully lemony.

The slightly less exquisite elements were a scoop of ice cream - a bit too sweet and not needed with my lemon cheesecake - and the phallysis fruits on each plate. I like to eat them, but somehow they seem a bit naff.


p.s. I have no illusions about the sophistication of my tastebuds or opinions: I wrote this whilst eating straight out of a 400g bar of Cadbury's Dairy Milk!!

Summer meal

The friday night before a bank holiday is surely the best time to have a summer meal.

I intended to defy the weather, regardless of the reality outside the window, and planned to re-create summer via the medium of food: lots of lemon, mint and beautiful fruits. And - if necessary - the heating turned on so we could really relax. The original menu was beautiful in concept, but given that broad beans, peaches and other summery delights aren't naturally available just yet, the scheme began to pale. And then I went out every night that week, so my energy flagged and I had no food in the house, and the preparation would have been too big a job for one person... in all, the grand schemes flopped.

I'm so glad it did, because what happened was much better.

Arriving home at 5, in a panic, with bags of Sainsbury's plastic bags, I felt fraught and unethical. However, washing deep mauve aubergines almost immediately soothed my spirit, as did the arrival of HG with the most beautiful bouquet of pink peonies - and from then on, everything slipped into a natural pace. HG fried aubergine slices and stirred chocolate sauce, Jo fixed a salad and dressing, Anun and HG poured the chocolate into magestic espresso cups, and I stuffed and rolled the aubergine. What with the prosecco and good company the meal arrived in no time.

What started out as disorganised and fraught, ended up as the most relaxed, and relaxing, evening I have had in a long time. I think this is in no small part due to my generous spirited guests, who I know would have been happy had I served up take away curry ... and also to Jo, always helping in the background, finding vases for the froth of peach roses from Anun and Gordon, starting conversations and opening wine. In the end, it was less a witty concept, and more about the food bringing together some of my favourite people, and talking and laughing. Which really is what food should be about.

This is the rustic dish that did it for us:

The beginning: olives from the corner shop, stale pringles and prosecco in champagne saucers

The middle: Involtini mostly from Nigella's 'Feast' version (which makes me laugh for the line 'this was the vegetarian option at my last Christmas meal') and I utilised cous cous instead of breadcrumbs, as we had not a crumb left in the flat. Baby spinach and rocket leaves with Jo's special dressing (squashed garlic clove, oil, lemon, seasoning)
Red wine, white wine or G&T, depending on your favourite.

The end: Chocolate pots: double the quantity and with 4 tbsp brandy. Next time I'll add the full quantity.


Post script: although I love food to bring people together, I don't mean this to overrule its function as one of the most hedonistic pleasures: after eggs and toast the next morning, I snuck outside to delight in a chocolate pot, sitting in the sun. Unbelievably good.

Ottolenghi

With shame have I left this write up so long. So long, in fact, that the third salad is now hidden to my memory and I have no notes on the taste of anything. Bad times :(

Still, like the woman in the song 'After the ball was over', I limp along with decreasing body parts. Actually, I'm not sure how well that analogy will work, but here goes...

My plate sported:
Fat slices of some cut of cold beef, quite possibly marinaded or something (she took out her glass eye)
broad bean, pea and fennel salad with pink peppercorns
roast sweet potato and red pepper salad
another utterly delicious salad that escapes me (put her false teeth in the water)

Cornbread! I definitely remember the corn bread that Phil was determined to have all to himself out of the selection of breads. Happily, they let us have all corn bread so Mel and I also tasted the bread of heaven, dipped in some verdant virgin olive oil.

I have a better desert memory. Mel had a beautiful lemon polenta cake; Phil declined elegantly... then opted for the biggest banana toffee bundt known to mankind; I had a saucy little lemon and marscapone tart. The pastry was crispy and almost gritty, making me think it could have been made with polenta. The middle created tears of real joy: I love lemon done right.

There was coffee and it probably tasted nice, I was too happy and full to really notice. And then there were the bathrooms. Girls and boys, I won't ruin the surprise, but my advice would be as my Mother's always was: remember to go before you leave home. Super modern the bathrooms may be, but super impossible it is to have a pee without blushing. If you have any modesty don't use 'em.

I don't remember the price of our meal (shook from her hair the dye), but I do remember that there were so few of the dishes we asked for, that the utterly lovely waitress only charged us for two salads instead of three, each. I also remember laughing a lot and being lulled into a baby-like state of contentment after such a beautiful meal.

That's it: the inaccurate impressions that don't do justice to a gorgeous meal. A good reason to go back again.
Then what was left went to bye byes ... after the ball.

Top tip restaurant...

A top tip from Debora: the meat eater's haven and paradise that is 'St. John' in Smithsfield. Apparently Greg Wallace of Veg Talk fame was eating there that night, so twice recommended!

Pret saves the day

Pret chicken and avocado salad is possibly my all time favourite. Maybe it is the comfort of knowing it is always exactly the same, but with a really stressful morning I found positive succour behind Pret doors. I had a medical appointment I was nervous about; I arrived early, so sat with a latte and cheese and bacon croissant (note to Pret: I'm not sure it needed the tomato in there too. It made me a little bit queasy, like putting orange pieces on a milk pudding - but maybe that's just me). If I want to gain weight then I can see the savoury croissant is definitely the way forward - yum!

Then, after the appointment, I was so emotionally drained that I just went back to the same Pret and got the chicken salad and some apple juice. My brain was completely awol and I kept staring off into the distance, but the avocado called me back every time. Good salad! Good Pret!

Inaugural Angel dinner

First the Waitrose mixed olives and gin and tonics, waiting for people, talking, and watching Steve nobly chopping the chillies. My guests: Steve and Jen, the lovely Debora, Guy and Simona, Jo and myself. All came bearing wine or flowers, which was too too delightful. I don't think I have ever felt so grown up.

Then came the 'light main' of fish curry, intended to be savoury and assague hunger in anticipation of the desserts. The recipe as per the Newcastle fish curry, but this time with fish from Hatt's on Essex road: salmon, cod and clams. Making rice for seven intimidated me so I made cous cous with toasted pine nuts, dried apricots, tumeric, cinnamon, lemon and oil, presented in one of Jo's beautiful ceramic dishes. It went down surprisingly well with the guests, with everyone being so lovely and complementary - and the boys happily accepting second helpings. I charged Jo and Steve with keeping glasses full, then pulled out the following:

Chocolate pots (Jamie recipe) with frangelico added instead of whatever alcohol he suggests - and left as dense chocolate rather than whisking in egg whites to make a mousse. Served with a shot of Frangelico.
London cheesecake (Nigella) - perfectly cooked, but sadly the base was a little soggy. Dang!
Apple crumble and cream to finish and to my great honour, Simona asked for seconds! The apple crumble was somewhat of a trial: it was supposed to be rhubarb however the shops let me down at the last moment so I got three bags of the tiniest cox's I have ever seen and fretted for 35 minutes trying to peel, core and chop them in record time. I was so relieved to finish that I made a really stupid mistake and put the crumble topping on top - three hours before it was needed! I quickly made some extra topping (dispensing with the faffy measuring stage this time) to put on at the last moment.

I must have had the best guests in all the world because they were so excited and complimentary of all the courses, and genuinely seemed happy to be fed so much - although it took a bit of psyching up to get the third pud down!

Just like Mumma would make (if she was Caribbean)

Goat curry from Soul Food, N1.

I had a freak out yesterday and just walked out of work: I think Bert would define it as my brain 'going for a smoko' and the only plan I could make was to came home. Even in my spooky state I realised I should eat something - my body needs to keep going even if my brain is giving up - so I took my purse to 'Soul Food' on Essex road.

There was no menu in the window and the counter consisted of covered canteen-esque dishes. I asked the super-nice lady what kind of food they served. She picked up the first cover to reveal an unctuous stew with vegetables and beef poking out 'beef stew' she said; the second was a more yellow-green colour 'goat curry' she said. I stopped her there and chose that - she even offered some for me to taste before buying, which is a brilliant idea. I had it with 'rice and peas' where the peas were acutally kidney beans. £5.95.

At home I re-housed it from its plastic tub onto a plate and realised there was heaps: yum yum. The spices and heat reminded me of the South African dish 'Bobotie' which I made once with my sister. The goat was just a tasty meat, and my only gripe would be that I wasn't fond of the bones I found in there, and I prefer more vegetables. But on the whole I loved it: I hoped that 'soul food' would somehow feed my rather poverty-stricken soul and indeed found comfort and mother-like love in it. I fell into a deep sleep and was woken by Eddie Mair presenting PM on radio four.