telling porkies

I am having such a good time I almost feel guilty. When I look at this photo I actually get jealous of myself:

The shops open so late on a Sunday that halfway around my walk the gent phoned to say he had been unable to find any bread or eggs, and the only solution was to pop to Cecconis for breakfast.

One duck egg with black truffle and hash brown later, becalmed by an Earl Grey tea, I had to pinch myself. Do people really live like this?  And, given that I felt like the Queen, shouldn't the prices be more queenly, too?

That evening I rolled up my sleeves and made good with the cleaning whilst the gent knocked up something or other.  You can see from the photo what that entailed: Dijon mustard mash, buttery cabbage and a pork belly roasted with thyme and salt.

There is no way to make modest of all this good fortune, so you will excuse me for just enjoying it! 

gordon bennet!

In a long relationship it can sometimes seem as if there are no more surprises.  And then, on a grumpy, drizzly, late, Thursday morning, it all changes.

After 8 years, the only fitting term for my Gordon’s Café habit is ‘long-term’.  My first memory of it was actually when it was a student bar and my colleague took me there for a stiff drink after my handbag had been stolen.  When it became a café, I was a fresh-faced, keen young thing who would, for a treat, arrive super-early to work, just so I could go in for a coffee first (and then only on a pay day!).

Of course I have had grand passions for all the swish new coffee purveyors nearby, and consider it money well spent on happiness (did you know that people who drink coffee are less likely to commit suicide?  FACT from Mr Jeffrey Steingarten’s book*); however Gordon’s was always my fall back guy.

I had a phase of visiting most days with m’colleagues Steve and Debora, and it has always been a firm haunt with Anun.  It has been the backdrop of grim early-to-work busy times, hasty application form-filling, and latterly, having cycled there together, breakfast a deux with the gent before going on to our various work places.

Now once I have tried most things in a place, I tend to stick with what I know is good.  I love the adventure of new things, but thereafter I am reluctant to waste a single meal on anything but enjoying myself.  In Gordon’s I thus eschew any pastry in favour of an almond croissant.  

Today, however, 8 years and 4 months into my Gordon's affair, these were lacking so I had to chose a second.  I can’t bear croissants with icing over - not for the first meal of the day - so chose the twisty, long ones.  Yes, those are the words I used to order them.  I was told they were a ‘chocolate twist’ but, far better than this, the folds were soft and eggy – akin to the best pain au raisin – with dried sour cherries throughout.  Surprisingly fresh and zingy.  

And it has quite revived my affections and made me look anew at my old stalwart café.  I think we may be in our second bloom.

My top 3 in Gordon’s

An almond croissant with a small latte (be eco and bring your own cup); the ‘Naughty but nicoise’ salad for lunch and a raspberry muffin for your handbag.  Just in case. 

* 'It must've been something I ate', in the chapter entitled 'Explaining Espresso'.

seedy delights

A recipe I can post with impunity, because I made it up. Creativity borne of realising I didn't have enough butter in the flat.  May I introduce my Citrus Poppy cake?

165g butter and sugar - creamed together. 3 eggs, zest of a lemon and lime, juice of the lime, enough poppy seeds*, then 220-240g self raising flour (I wasn't sure so just kept adding until it looked stiff enough for a cake batter). All scraped into my favourite, silicon loaf mould.

I am still getting used to my oven so the timing instructions read: not at all ready after 40 minutes, but fine after a shade under an hour. I actually forgot about the cake as it was cooling on the side, but happily noticed it in time to add the drizzle topping while it was still hot.

So into a small pan, over the heat, went the juice of the lemon (previously denuded of its zest) with some icing sugar (quantity: keep tasting and adding sugar until it is less blisteringly tart) - heated until melted. I traditionally use a chop stick to stab the cake top all over, before poring over the lemon sugar, ensuring it goes into the middle holes and doesn't just rush to the edges. Leave until cold in the tin: it is sticky to turn out and comes to no harm.

Easy peasy. And very moist. And it didn't last the day.


*lame I know: I just shook them out of the packet until I deemed the mix seedy enough.

Taro times

Taro Brewer Street surpassed itself again.
The soya broth in the gent's spicy ramen was light and almost meaty tasting. In the good way, of course.

My tempura udon had two generous prawns and great broth. When I first encountered this in Japan I speed-scoffed the crispy tempura, having a horror of the batter getting soggy. But I soon learned to relax and enjoy the dish as it should be eaten. I even adopted the noodle-slurp!

The pork ramen I had in Taro last time was quite possibly the best ramen I have tasted since visiting Japan.  Happily the gent has quite the obsession with miso soup at the weekend: long may it continue! 

Friday treats

However lovely your new flat is, and however much you love your work, there will always be grumpy weeks.  Not bad, not unhappy, just meh to the core.  I have different tactics - secret weapons that keep my head above water until the sun comes out again – and today I am going to share one with you.

In a mood slip-slide, getting up later creeps in and soon breakfast is off-menu.  Instead it is a coffee and pastry at the desk, and then after a while, even this doesn't seem exciting.  The only thing to do is get a grip and re-invent breakfast.

On a practical level, eating breakfast makes your morning 70% better*.  You have more energy, you are less grumpy, and less likely to eat only cake and flake bars for the rest of the day.  On an emotional level, this is one of the few times I feel again the thrilling, unsurpassable anticipatory excitement of Christmas Eve.  

A few weeks back I decided to celebrate Friday breakfast.  The night before I assembled all the dry ingredients for savoury muffins, so that the next morning (bouncing out of bed super-early with excitement) I just had to bung in the wet ingredients, scoop the batter into muffin cases and pop them in the oven.  At the same time I put a tray of chipolatas in to cook.  

Breakfast cooked itself whilst I had a shower and made tea, and then the lucky gent had breakfast in bed.  And I had a Friday morning feast which put a spring back in my step.

How to

The muffins are based on the recipe in Nigella Bites: I fiddled about with the flour a bit, but stuck more faithfully to the recipe than usual. 

I used chipolatas as they cook quickly, giving time for them to cool to a handling-temperature, whilst the muffins had their last 10 minutes in the oven.  I used sausages from the 'Good little' company, which I hadn't heard of before; I loved the idea behind them... and they were tasty, too.

*Recently invented statistic.

lazy Sunday

We were very generously gifted an amazing chunk of iberico chorizo. Neither salami nor cooking sausage, it is instead a hybrid of the two: a thin slice can be eaten immediately, or cooked in a stew etc.

The flavour is a surprise. As salami it is really earthy and resiny, lower on the bright pimento taste we were expecting.

With such a powerful flavour I fried only a few slices for brunch, releasing that lovely orange chorizo fat which I then fried quail eggs in. The chorizo discs were put on top of toasted baguette, with the quail eggs perched on top of the chorizo.

The eggs were gratifying to cook, needing only to have the edge of the white flipped over the yolk to make a perfect, soft yolked parcel. So neat and so quick.

Coffee is often the high point of the day and today's post-brunch cup was, in Mary Poppins' parlance, practically perfect.

'licious lunch (or ode to leftovers - again)

It isn't very photogenic, but my lunch today is just adorable.
Imagine, if you will, last night's coleslaw with a little salad, some slices of cold roast chicken and cold, roast beetroot. With the last pitta bread.

Heaven, heaven!

Which brings me on to last night's slaw.
Find one exhausted-looking radicchio lettuce; shred, tumble with finely chopped carrot (the nearest to 'shredded' I could get by knife). Mix about with Dijon mustard, red wine vinegar and mayonnaise. The taste is heavy on vinegar and mustard, low on the creamy mayo. The colour, as you can imagine is bright and cheering!

This was invented to be companionable to some amazing pulled pork - itself left-overs from our friends Gabe + Maria, gifted from their larder-of-dreams. I fried the sweet-fatty pork in patties and wedged it onto some fancy-pantsy artisan french stick; the slaw's sharpness undercut the pork perfectly.

***********

The roast chicken and beets were from a quick, basic roast to stave off post-Easter blues, and also to provide for a salad the next day. I think this is such a delightful combination, as the beets sweeten up, and r0se-tint, the chicken.