If you don’t have a decent butcher on your doorstep don’t worry, you can still get the finest meat delivered
I don’t live in a ‘nice’ London postcode. Waitrose won’t set up shop anywhere near us and Ocado has an armed escort and throws the shopping at our door rather than risk stopping.
Well not really, but we do lack posh shops and the nearest proper butcher is many miles away. So we are at the mercy of the big supermarkets, and much as I like lamb, particularly at Easter, I have had too many expensive disappointments from supermarkets to ever buy it there again.
So Swaledale had me in interested with their talk of being an award-winning Yorkshire-based online butcher that works in partnership with small-scale, sustainable farms on The Dales. They specialise in heritage breeds of cattle, sheep and pigs, wild venison, and native game birds, supplying many a top restaurant.
The Dales are particularly noted for sheep farming, with hardy breeds such as Swaledale, Lonk, Dalesbred and Herdwick all foraging freely on the lush grass, herbs and flowers. The result is smaller, darker-fleshed lamb that tastes of the ‘terroir’, although I suspect many down to earth Yorkshire people would gag at such fancy French talk.
So we tried out some of their lamb by post. Lamb chops, because a perfectly cooked lamb chop chewed off the bone is one of life’s’ great pleasures. We also chose some Merguez sausages because we were intrigued to taste a Yorkshire merguez. Another great pleasure is eating merguez slapped into a buttery baguette, a staple snack at every French bric a brac market and always served with a barquette of freshly cooked from frozen frites and glass of raw vin rouge.
And just for ‘fun’ we also had some mutton chops. A lot of people give mutton a miss, it’s regarded as a bit old fashioned and can also be a bit too ‘gamey’ for modern tastes, but good mutton is well worth seeking out.
The lamb chops were excellent. The plan was to grill them on our new Weber, but while I factored in the weather I forgot it gets dark at 6pm, so we cooked them on a cast iron grill on the kitchen gas rings. Three to four minutes a side with the grill hot as Hades, the internal temp checked with the trusty Thermapen – overcooking lamb is a criminal offence, or should be.
The Merguez were the best I’ve tasted outside North Africa, quickly frying to an attractive gold colour and with a firm snap to the skins. We ate some cooked with red peppers dobbed with a poached egg, and the next day sliced into pieces in a couscous. My suggestion that we should also have them for breakfast was vetoed.
Finally the mutton chops. For these we thought we’d be a little adventurous and used the recipe from the take it easy chef for mutton chops karnatkas style. This involved pressure cooking the chops in some water and spices before adding a masala mix and simmering for twenty or so minutes.
Indian cooks use pressure cookers a lot, they’re fast and energy efficient. Here the cooker turned the meat very tender without taking hours of slow cooking. Lots of flavour and an authentic taste.
So we were impressed with Swaledale’s lamb. As traditional quality butchers become harder to find, and hard to afford, mail order meat is certainly a great way to go.
I’m not normally a fan of stereotypical American food, but I get kinda converted at a lavish preview
American food is often defined solely by the UK’s rather twisted lens. Watching TV we tend to think that all Americans ever eat is steaks bigger than plates and burgers so enormous you need to dislocate your jaw like an anaconda to fit them in.
Of course that’s not entirely unfair. Americans do things big and that includes food.
SOUND London is a very big space inside the Cumberland Hotel, so large it’s even got a London taxi in reception.
Walking in is like entering a classic bar in Florida, it’s all very colourful and bright and packed with people, and on the stage is a band. This is the kind of place usually called a Sports Bar where giant TV screens beam the big games with state of the art sound sound systems, and have live music at other times. The food is equallyloud and proudly Comfort American,
SOUND London at The Cumberland Hotel in Marble Arch now has a brand new Americana menu with lots of small plates, burgers, BBQ meat platters with sharing sides and gravy, and the mighty 20oz Tomahawk steak for sharing served with mash, chilli greens, baked tomato topped with a garlic and herb crumble, as well as salsa verde and red wine gravy.
So I starved myself all day in anticipation.
We skirted around the sweet little robot server trundling cheerfully up and down, and nabbed a table in front of the stage where an acoustic trio were competently playing all the hits and more. Rather oddly the two seat tables are arranged so one of you has his or her back to the stage, it would be better surely to have seats side-on so you both can see?
The menu is not massive ,but it certainly inspires big hunger. We had a cocktail each and were undecided for starters between Stuffed jalapeño poppers, Jumbo prawns with spicy mango salsa, Grilled corn ribs, Buttermilk Chicken Tenders and the ‘Ultimate Onion Ring Tower’.
We had the peppers and the prawns and also succumbed to our server’s insistence to try the onion tower – well, when in the U.SA etc.
The peppers were great, ideal for accompanying drinks, ideally ice cold beers. The prawns fat and juicy, the batter crisp and fresh. And the onion rings? Well these were impressive and certainly towering.
They were also extremely, deadly, hot. We both had serious problems through taking too big a bite, the batter burning us and the onion inside annoyingly reluctant to be bitten through. We decided to let them cool down and concentrated on our other dishes. If your kids order the tower, and this is a kid friendly place, be careful.
We wanted the Tomahawk steak to share, who wouldn’t, but apparently it’s marinaded in red wine and J is allergic to tanins. We agree to share the The Smokehouse Platter instead – BBQ-glazed smoked beef feather blade, pulled pork shoulder, glazed pork ribs, Texas hot link sausage, grilled corn ribs, BBQ ranch beans, red cabbage slaw, pickles and tear ‘n’ share mezzaluna bread.
It’s brilliant, a real feast of America. The ribs fall apart perfectly, the shoulder easily falls to the fork and we devour it all hungrily as the band lurches into an acoustic version of Oasis’ Stand By Me.
Anyone not on the red meat train could go for the Big Bird Platter -BBQ-glazed skin-on chicken breast, slow-roasted chicken wings in a choice of BBQ or Buffalo Hot Sauce, buttermilk chicken tenders, grilled corn ribs, BBQ ranch beans, red cabbage slaw, pickles and tear ‘n’ share mezzaluna bread and it looks good,.
And if you want a burger well fear not because the Burger Studio has The London Double Decker, crispy buttermilk chicken Clucky and smokey BBQ Pulled Pork. And they are biggggggg!
We watch them go past rather wistfully, as we are now sated, and just about manage a House Apple Cobbler, and a thick Millionaires Brownie. We are stuffed and then some.
Take me home, country roads. Or rather, take me home Northern Line. I did enjoy our visit to America.
A beautiful room and some seriously stunning cakes, this afternoon tea certainly made my day
They say English Afternoon tea originated in the 1840s, a light meal to tide over genteel ladies of quality until dinner at 8pm.
Lunch it seems was not an English thing back then, a posh person had a biggish breakfast and then toughed it out until the evening. No nipping down to the mansion, or the castle kitchen, for a sneaky snack.
So to combat afternoon energy drops, ladies began taking tea and delicate sandwiches at around four o’clock in the afternoon. Soon no society hostess could afford not to invite or be invited to tea, it was ‘the thing’.
Today it’s something many tourists actively seek out, a quintessentially British experience in London’s best hotels. With so many on offer though, many a disgraceful rip off, it pays to be selective.
The Kensington, part of the Doyle Collection, is one the very best. Just a short walk from South Kensington station and the Natural History Museum, Royal Albert Hall and V&A, it appears to have been created by joining four elegant 19th Century stucco fronted houses together. Entering through the grand front door, held open by bowler hatted porters, you turn left into a gorgeous double aspect lounge.
On any day it’s a well lit room, warmed by a real fire, but on this sunny early Spring day it shines and dazzles. The furniture is a mix of modern and antique and just what you’d expect to find in the townhouse of a tasteful member of the aristocracy. Understated elegance.
We take a table in one of the bay windows, noting the excellent china cups and saucers as well as the crisply folded napkins. Every detail matters when taking tea.
The menu offers a variety of The Rare Tea Company teas and infusions, from the classic ‘breakfast tea’ to exotic single suppliers. They are all the same price and are served ‘bottomless’, although you’d not utter such a common phrase here. A pre tea glass of champagne is appreciated, if not exactly traditional.
Up to a point the food is classic, which is a good thing. I’ve tried afternoon teas in places where they’ve gone crazy with the sandwiches, creating monsters that can’t be eaten without mess. The whole point of AT sandwiches is that they must be dainty, easy to hold and to nibble at.
Our tea arrives in silver pots too heavy to lift, which is okay as the charming staff are there to pour tea for us. Milk first or last? Last of course, because that way you have a chance to adjust the tea’s strength
I have delicious Rooibos while P has Cloud Tea, a fragrant black tea from the “Abode of Clouds” in the cloudy hills between Assam and Darjeeling.
From the elegant tiered stand come sandwiches which are pukka and properly finger shaped – there is St. Ewe Egg with watercress, Chapel & Swan smoked salmon with lemon cream cheese, Cucumber with mint cream and Pastrami with gherkin and horseradish. All beautifully delicate and the teas make them taste even better.
We have plain and fruit scones, cosily wrapped in a soft napkin. They are still warm. Thick clotted cream and homemade strawberry jam are slathered on.
And now, as we wipe some off that jam off our shirts, we come to the art in the Art of Afternoon Tea.The sweet cakes have been inspired by artists and are quite incredible, so much detailed work has gone into them that it seems a shame to eat them so we look for a while instead.
These are inspired by Jackson Pollock, Yayoi Kusama and Alicja Kwade. The Pollock uses his ‘drip technique’ for a dark chocolate mousse tart with passion fruit parfait, Japanese artist Kusama’s cake is polka-dot pumpkin of mango mousse shrouding coconut yoghurt cream, and visual artist Kwade’s spheres are made from white chocolate vanilla mousse with pineapple compote centre.
Our photos do them some justice, but they are even more remarkable in the sweet, sugary flesh. A bit messy to eat, but I think that’s allowable.
We have our teapots refreshed and sink back into the deep cushions. The ceremony has done its job, we are no longer hungry but also feel that by dinner time we will be ready for more.
Everything done right traditionally and with a modern ‘arty’ twist. This Afternoon Tea is one you will savour.
Prepared and served fresh daily, The Art of Afternoon Tea is available everyday from 12pm-4.30pm for £58 per person or £70 per person including a glass of champagne.
In and around Newlyn, restaurants are cool, creative and it’s now a food destination that has to be tasted to be believed. I take a trip to taste for myself.
Just past Penzance on the south coast of Cornwall, and about as far west as you can get before falling into the sea, sits pocket-sized Newlyn home to one of the largest fishing fleets in the UK.
Small winding lanes, many impassable for cars, conceal the cutest cottages often still lived in by the fishermen and their families. Up the hill, larger houses enjoy panoramic views of the ever changing coastal comings and goings.
Once Newlyn was only food- famous for its Cornish Pasties, which are still delicious and home made at Aunty May’s, the place to score a proper steak pasty.
These are best eaten straight out of the bag, while sitting on the harbour wall swinging your legs, but the food scene has all changed recently with new and exciting restaurants popping up all the time.
Aunty’s Pasty
‘It’s different down here,’ says Rich Adams who styles himself owner/sous chef, ‘but these days mostly fish sourcer!’ of Argoe, a restaurant that’s a stylish hut located on the harbourside, cosily nestled among the fishing boats.
ArgoeRich Adams
‘Not so long ago all the amazing fish and seafood caught here went straight out in lorries to London and beyond, which was such a shame.’ Rich points out. ‘Now there are new restaurants here in the port and all around all doing great things with our local produce. After all, the best place to eat fish is always by the sea!’
Argoe is definitely one of those places. As the afternoon February sun beams down on Rich and his team as they make more simple restaurant tables and chairs (he once trained to be a cabinet maker), go behind the pass to see the most important part of this kitchen, the charcoal grill.
Argoe StarterArgoe Menu
Here they cook very simply, ‘fish, salt, olive oil, top quality charcoal,’ says Rich. It’s cooking in the style of the Basque country, such as you’ll find at places like Elkano near San Sebastian whose grilled turbot ‘rodaballo’ is legendary. At Argoe they use instead Megrim Sole, an ugly local fish underappreciated by most as it’s so cheap. It is, however, very tasty.
That night in Argoe I find the sole is soled out, so instead I have superb locally caught hake three ways, griddled on the coals and served with Kokotxas, the hake’s throat, a gelatinous delicacy in Spain that’s often discarded here.
CuttlefishWhite fish
Rich’s father runs a big fish wholesaler over the road from Argoe, and Rich tells me he goes over to his father’s place to take the unwanted Kokotxas for the restaurant, often trimming them out himself.
Kokotxas also feature as starters at Argoe, served with chilli and garlic, but we had Braised Cuttlefish and Fried Potatoes, the cuttlefish sweet and meltingly tender in a rich inky sauce.
Wines are natural, chosen by another new Newlyn place, Lovetts, a tiny wine and coffee bar on Newlyn front ‘The Coombe’, serving a range of superb wines, and, as we found out, some rather good charcuterie as well. It’s a great place to make friends, as you’re so close together it’s impossible not to fall into conversation with other couples.
On ‘The Boat’
We had a couple’s retreat par excellence in Newlyn, The Blue Place, rented via Aspects Holidays, a marvellous converted old workshop a little way up the hill and a few minutes walk from the harbour.
St Michael’s MountThe ‘Boat’
Wooden, and so blue on the outside we could see it from the harbour, this quirky cosy place is cleverly ‘upside down’ so that the lounge and kitchen get the great views, as does the outside deck.
We took to calling it our ‘little boat’, as it felt so much like one, a cosy place to end the day’s exploring with snug underfloor heating and tight insulation. Fast wi-fi, and a TV that was internet enabled, took care of entertainment but really watching the harbour comings and goings was entertainment enough.
Downstairs was a comfortable bedroom with high quality linens, as well as a very smart bathroom with large walk in shower and lots of fluffy towels. Outside a pretty courtyard was just big enough to accomodate an average sized car, a very useful thing as parking in Newlyn is scarce. All in all, it was perfect.
The Blue Place also came with a wonderful welcome hamper of remarkable Cornish produce, including sea salt that we put to good use one night on brilliant takeaway haddock and chips bought from the legendary Lewis’s on the Coombe.
We’d heard from friends in Cornwall of another special place in Newlyn, the Mackerel Sky Cafe. “The queues are enormous, whenever we drive past’ said our friends.’ We don’t know what they’re selling, crack cocaine perhaps?, they joked.
‘The queues do get a bit long,’ laughs chef Paul when I mention it to him when we meet before the day’s opening,’ we don’t do reservations and, as you can see, it’s a small place’.
It certainly is, although there are outside seats which, as I’d seen the night before, people seem happy to use even on a chilly February evening, the food is that good.
Mackerel Sky was opened in May 2015 by Nina and Jamie MacLean who’d previously wowed locals and tourists alike in Penzance. Like Argoe it keeps it simple, letting the fish do the talking.
MackerelMackerel Sky
‘We don’t have any freezers, only fridges,’ says Paul ‘the boats text us with what they’re coming in with and every day we prep fresh fish for our service 12 am until 9pm. We can also call up fresh fish anytime of day if we’re running low, after all the sheds are just across the road.’
‘If people are waiting too long, and the queue is down the road, we send them to Lovetts to have a drink or recommend other restaurants in Newlyn, we all help each other out, we’re not rivals.’
PaulThe Hake
‘Our dishes are small plates and the whole experience is not geared to lingering; get in and order a load of dishes, enjoy and move on. We also do takeaway, if you’re staying in Newlyn.’
That night we timed it right to get a seat and soon found ourselves oohing and aahing over plates of Salt & pepper squid with aioli; tender perfectly fried squid seasoned just right, then some Grilled mackerel, pickled cucumber, horseradish – something of a signature dish – was redolent of the sea.
Finally grilled local white fish, samphire and capers. The fish also turned out to be hake that night, but we weren’t complaining. Hake is such a great fish that for some reason the British fail to appreciate fully. We washed it all down with St Ives Meor, a crisp IPA perfect for fish.
Good news is that Mackerel Sky will be expanding in time for the summer, taking over a small space next to Newlyn Cheese and Charcuterie, a wonderfully compact and aromatic artisan cheese shop with cheeses from all over the west county and France.
We ran out of time and couldn’t eat at The Tolcarne, which at ten years old is one of the more venerable ‘new’ restaurants in Newlyn, and one the most-respected, but I did get to speak to co-chef and owner Ben.
“We had been looking for a pub for some time,” he tells me. “It was a bit of a gamble at the time as Newlyn wasn’t on a ‘food map’ so to speak, but it had this raw appeal and I just thought – that’s where I want to be, I can make it work.”
“Simple dishes, which highlight excellent ingredients – that’s how Matt and I both like to cook. We spend more time removing components from dishes than adding them!”
At The Tolcarne you might find Spiced monkfish, hummus, fine beans, pomegranate molasses, dukkha on the lunch menu, and Hake, pancetta and fagioli bean stew, broad beans, salsa verde, pangrattato on at evening time. Hearty food that flits across borders, but is solidly built on Newlyn produce.
The boats keep coming in. The fish gets served. Newlyn is a food paradise, at the Land’s End.
Of course Newlyn is just the start, check out its antiques scene, the prestigious Newlyn Art Gallery, the remarkable fresh fish and shellfish at Trelawney Fish and Stevensons Fish, and try the baked potato and crab at the timeless Ship Inn in beautiful, bijou, Mousehole just ten minutes away.
Top tip, take the bus because Mousehole has limited parking and is unsuitable for larger cars. You will lose at least one door mirror. Ask me how I know.
And further afield, and nothing is very far in this part of Cornwall, is Lands End itself, the rugged beauty of Zennor, the sands of Sennen and the remarkable grandeur of St Michael’s Mount clearly visible from Newlyn.
Oh and we have to mention the cafe at The Lizard, the southernmost point of the UK – lovely home made fruit cake, a dollop of clotted cream and a view of the rocks and waves to die for, if you don’t watch your step.
We stayed in one of Aspects Holidays Cottages, a Cornish company which began as a family business in 1989 and still feels like one. Their selection of quirky yet luxurious cottages is one of the best in Cornwall.
Still hot, numbing and exploding with flavour. Barshu has not thrown the baby out with the bathwater with this new makeover.
One pm in Soho, Friday, on the corner of Frith Street. ‘Where is everybody?’ says H peeking out through the slats at Barshu and out into the road.
Where indeed? Back in the day, pre-Covid, on a Friday lunchtime there would have been people everywhere in Soho – standing outside the pubs, packed into the restaurants or just moving purposefully about.
‘It’s not the same,’ she sighs, tweezering up a crispy piece of salt & pepper squid and popping it ruminatively into her mouth. ‘Nothing is the same’.
It’s true, even Barshu, where I’ve been eating on and off for over ten years, has had a makeover. It still feels the same though and the staff behind those fatuous paper masks still have the same cheerfulness of old. It’s just brighter and better now
And the food is still as good as ever, but now with extra dishes, and they’re still serving the kind of authentic Sichuan meat dishes that scare most non-Chinese half to death, including me.
Dishes such as ‘Assorted meats in fiery sauce (duck blood, honeycomb beef tripe, beef tripe, pig’s intestine, luncheon pork, etc)” for example. I wish I had the bottle to try it.
The menu is new,big and glossy, clearly fresh from the printers, and full of high-quality photographs. It goes on for pages and pages and you can easily find yourself going back and forth forever. Just what to have?
Well a mix of old and new suited us for starters, that classic salt and pepper squid for example. Colourful, crispy and fresh, all the dish lacked, for me, was more salt. Perhaps I was wrong about that, because I did end up drinking almost a gallon of Barshu’s excellent jasmine tea over the course of lunch.
Classic too was the sweetcorn soup, perhaps the first Chinese dish I ever ate when Chinese restaurants were still a novelty in the South London suburb where I grew up.
Back then I loved the strange glutinous texture of the soup and the egginess. I still do and Barshu, with the benefit of no doubt plenty of chicken bones for the stock, does an excellent version. Comforting and familiar, deeply flavoured
Unfamiliar can be good too though, and Sichuan pea jelly with chopped salted chillies was just that. Translucent green ‘logs slippery with fiery sauce. Handling them was like trying to pick up dropped shower soap with chopsticks, I finally resorted to fingers.
We liked the cool refreshing tones of the pea jelly against the chili, this would make a good vegan main with rice, depending on what’s used to solidify the jelly of course.
Sea bass has long been a Barshu staple, I had to have it but this time instead of the usual oven-roasted we had it in ‘soup’, Barshu calls it ‘boiled’ which rather undersells it.
We had Boiled Sea Bass fillet with chilis and Sichuan peppercorn, which was superb.
In the broth, semi submerged, was lots and lots of pure white seabass fillet lurking under environmental-disaster-sized slicks of fragrant oil. Slippery mushrooms and sweetly sour tomatoes evaded the spoon like playful dolphins, and everywhere bobbed the Sichuan peppercorn that makes this food so different from the largely Cantonese cooking of nearby Chinatown.
We ladled it over plain steamed Jasmine rice, because that broth was born to be absorbed and raved over our fish even as the peppercorn did its business on our lips. Why do we love the numbness and the citric shock of Sichuan? What alchemy makes it so addictive?
We didn’t need the Ma Po tofu, here given its less attractive name of ‘Pock-marked old woman’s beancurd’, but it was loaded with peppercorns and chili and was hard to resist, so we didn’t.
Barshu is not cheap, although you can always find plenty of well-priced dishes that deliver plenty of taste. Splashing out one of the sea bass dishes, which are easily shared is well worth it though. Go as a crowd and you can really dive into the menu.
Hopefully Soho will return to life and when it does Barshu will once again be one of its premier places to eat.
Not perhaps the best product name, for English speakers at least, Grano Arso is a magical baking ingredient.
Myth has it that back in 18th Century Italy, poor villagers would scrabble to gather the scorched grains left after farmers burned their harvested wheat fields to make way for new crops.
They’d use this free flour to make bread and pastas with a distinct flavour.
Well, as is often the way with food, what was once only for peasants has become sought after by the well-heeled.
Knowing that I am a keen bread baker, online Italian foods specialist shop Gourmica sent me a bag of Grano Arso(400g, £5.15) to try out. They make it by toasting 100% Durum wheat flour.
Opening the bag you get an immediate hit of the aroma of ash, almost sepulchral, and the colour is a darkish grey. It’s not as attractive as ordinary flour. This is probably what Nosferatu bakes with.
Usually I’d have made a sourdough loaf, but my ‘mother’ (who is now six years old) was having a bit of a sulk in the cold weather and not responding well to feeding, so I reluctantly fell back on Instant Yeast
Grey and black
No muscle needed
I normally use 500g of strong white bread flour, so I decided to make this mix 400g white and 100g Grano Arso. Nothing added but fast action yeast, water, salt and a smidge of sugar.
The KitchenAid made easy work of the kneading (I don’t need to knead sourdoughs) and I soon had a dark ball of smooth dough which after two rises went into the oven for 35 minutes.
The resulting Humbrol Battleship Grey loaf was a bit flat, I’d used a bit too much water, but still good to go. I had to then impatiently wait for it to cool properly. If you cut into a loaf that’s still hot, you release steam and spoil it.
Finally slicing it a few hours later revealed a typical fast yeast close crumb, but grey. The aroma was of fresh bread in a dusty room. Not unpleasant.
The taste was at first a bit of a shock, a definite hint of ash, intriguing and moreish. Adding butter made it totally magical.
After a few slices I was hooked, it responds particularly well to toasting and is marvellous made into toast soldiers to dip into boiled egg.
I’ll be making sourdough next time for sure, and I am really looking forward to adding it 00 flour to make fresh pasta. Pasta always looks so bland. The pack also has a recipe for a kind of ciabatta, which looks interesting
You can also of course vary the flour ratio. I wouldn’t use any more than 1:4 myself but I might try a little bit less Grano Arso to see what happens. A pack won’t last long otherwise
A sliced surprise
Not brown bread, but grey bread
It’s just one of the many products from Gourmica a new online destination for gourmet Italian food which focuses on extraordinary Mediterranean foods.
There are tomatoes (including the champagne of tomatoes, San Marzano); pasta, rice & grains; oils & vinegars; beans & pulses; soups & sauces; antipasti and even plant-based choc-hazelnut spreads.
Gourmica is curated by Londoners Ernesto Coppola and Maria Suleymanova, of Coppola Foods , a fourth-generation family food business.
The team at Gourmica actively seek out family businesses whose specialist expertise has been passed down through the generations, just like the Coppola family.
And it’s not a cruise anymore, Eurotunnel Le Shuttle makes the going fast and easy and VAT refunds make it even more of a bargain.
Anyone my age might remember their dads bundling them, sleepy and complaining, into the Ford Cortina well before dawn to drive down to Dover and catch a ferry to France.
Cue hours of mal de mer and boredom, followed once landed, by a manic zoom around the Booze Barns before wheeling groaning shopping carts full of drink to the car to catch the return ferry just before it sailed.
Then finally home at midnight, with dad fit to be tied swearing ‘never again’ and the rest of us fast asleep.
Happy days? No, not really, but things have changed.
Under Not Over
Hearing that super-fast Eurotunnel LeShuttle have got together with French supermarket giant Carrefour to offer passengers a €10 gift card for every €100.01 spent in store until 30th November 2021, I was once more interested in making the trip.
And even more interestingly, post-Brexit UK residents can now get a VAT refund (up to 20%) on items bought in France including cosmetics, technology, jewellery, and of course food and drink items.
And Carrefour Calais is part of Cité Europe, a massive modern mall a short drive from the Eurotunnel terminal. Lots of shopping opportunities there,
I join Chef Raymond Blanc to visit an apple and pear farm and see one of the UK’s food treasures begin its glorious, and green, journey to your fruit bowl.
Apples, apples everywhere – Gala, Braeburn, Jazz, Cox and English Bramley. The colours sing off the trees in all directions on Boxford Farms giant apple and pear orchards in Suffolk . Reds, greens, bicoloured and yellows and all shades in between.
The colours are especially vibrant this year as Ali Capper, Executive Chair of British Apples &; Pears Limited who is with us in the field explains: “Most British dessert apples have a beautiful colour to their skin that is created, in part, by our fantastic maritime climate which lets the apples mature slowly, and this year is no exception.” It’s why apples from abroad rarely please the eye as much.
And let’s talk about ‘green’. Robert Rendall from Boxford Farms, a third-generation family business, is enthusiastic about his growing methods. “As a business we already produce more green energy and recover more water than we use, and it is our goal to be a carbon sink by 2027.”
Like 93% of growers he uses biodiversity measures, such as varied grasses and wildflowers to encourage insects, as well as creating beetle banks and bee hotels to encourage natural pollinators.
Nothing goes to waste here, the apples that naturally fall before they can be harvested are not allowed into the food chain by law, but they make excellent fodder for the farm’s Anaerobic Digester. This turns the apples into Biogas, enough gas to produce heat and electricity for the farm’s needs and often enough surplus to sell.
Chef Raymond Blanc nods approvingly at Robert’s words and crunches into another apple. We’ve only been out here fifteen minutes and he must have already eaten three at least, he certainly takes his role as ambassador seriously.
A few minutes later he’s got another apple in his hand, as he good naturedly follows the tabloid photographer’s directions to stick his head through a wall of apple trees and bite down for the camera.
“Britain produces some of the finest apple and pear varieties in the world,’ he says, ‘and it is hugely important to me that we support our home grown produce. With so many wonderful varieties available this season in an array of beautiful colours, textures and flavours, there really is a British apple to delight everyone.”
And he says we should all recognise the work that goes into getting apples to us as we’re shown how the apples are harvested, always by hand as no machine can beat the skill of a human picker.
Ripe for picking
Firstly it’s about knowing when the apple is right. That comes with experience, but also today by science. One device that’s used tests the firmness of the apple on the tree – rock hard is under ripe, the apple should give to the teeth.
Then there is the starch iodine test. As apples ripen their starch is replaced by sweetness. The test apple is stained with a 4% potassium iodide/1% iodine solution. As the apples become ripe, they go from a dark iodine staining to a lighter staining.
And finally there is the refractometer; a small amount of juice from the fruit is squeezed onto the prism of the refractometer which is then held up to the light and the percentage of soluble solids is read by looking through the lens. Chef Raymond has a go and soon resembles Admiral Nelson looking for ships.
It’s in the wrist action
Every aspect of the harvest is an exercise in care. Each apple is picked by a twisting wrist movement, ‘you never pull,’ I am advised by a pro who is watching me carefully as I try. ‘Twisting means the little spur branch stays on the tree to produce fruit next year, and there’s less risk of shaking other apples to the ground. And use your palm to grasp,’ he admonishes me, ‘not your fingers which might bruise the apple. If the apple doesn’t want to come away easily, it’s not ripe so leave it.”
Each apple is carefully placed in a cloth lined box on the tractor hopper- never dropped in. When the box is full the apples are gently transferred to the main hopper.
‘We take all this care,’ one of the pickers says ruefully ‘and then I go into some supermarkets and see the shelf fillers just tumble the apples in!’
That is a shame, we all should respect English apples, an original and unique English crop that’s been grown here commercially since Henry VIII set up the first large-scale orchards in Kent.
An apple a day
So do try as many varieties as you can, as they are all in their prime and in the shops now.
Try them with cheese, for example, apples partner excellently alongside cheeses with each variety’s unique textures and tartness add to the taste experience. Sweet is not always the most exciting kind of apple, although it remains the most popular.
British Apples are a sustainable green choice, endorsed by a top chef and easily enjoyed by everyone. Look out for them in the shops from this week onward.
Fresh from the mother restaurant down the road, Bob’s Lobster has docked it’s smaller ship in Borough Market to dispense all manner of lobster loveliness to hungry passing punters.
“That’s a quidsworth you’ve dropped there,’ L says casually, as I battle to contain my Lobster & Crayfish Roll from disintegrating entirely onto the table.
She’s probably right, this seafood monster costs £19, so every bit is sacred and not a morsel can be wasted. I scoop up the chunk of dropped lobster, with the edge of my finger and then eat it. I’m sure the table’s clean enough and I hate waste.
It is one heck of a roll, containing lobster claw, tail and knuckle, as well as crayfish, in a toasted brioche bun all doused in rapeseed mayo and sprinkled with house celery salt. You need three hands to eat it but boy is it good, the lightly toasted bun’s slight dryness balancing out the rich filling. The meat is generous and sweet.
It’s gloriously rich and yet unpretentious, rather like the surroundings. We’re sitting in the large hall part of Borough Market, a section that is being slowly turned into a food court and the first resident is BOB’s Lobster’s Little Lobster Bar
They’ve extended their crustacean operation from their main restaurant by bringing around Ruby, their original 1957 Vintage VW split screen converted Campervan to serve as a small kitchen,as well as eye candy.
The space around is for now a bit bleak, the Campervan is the only splash of colour, but while they wait for others to join them Bob’s Snappers do have plenty of room for tables. Which is good as this is not the kind of food to ideally eat on your feet, unless you want your shoes splashed.
We’re having a bit of a seafood fest in the breezy space with these native lobster from the south coast and the Shetlands.
Three lobster arancini on a semi- spicy tomato base are gloriously stringy with mozzarella cheese. Arancini were once a peasant’s way of using up leftover risotto, but with the addition of lobster they become gentrified and then some more. Three between two of us results in a clash of wooden forks.
And then there are the Crab Tacos; warmed corn tortillas filled with hispi slaw, guacamole, crab, cashew butter, fresh herbs, lemon and Valentina hot sauce.
I think maybe these are my favourite. There’s an awful lot going on inside, as is kind of obligatory these days of more meaning more, but the flavours manage to remain distinct. That said, a bit more of that hot sauce wouldn’t have gone amiss.
We’re washing it all down with Prosecco which, along with Champagne Laurent-Perrier, frozen margaritas and van-made, Southern style lemonade, is part of the drinks menu. Perhaps they should have called this pop-up Bubbles and Bobs?
We are understandably quite full by now, becoming part lobster ourselves, but it would be rude to leave without sharing a Lobster Mac ‘N’ Cheese.
This is three cheeses, macaroni, lobster bisque bechamel, lobster tail and knuckle meat and topped with crispy shallots and oregano.
It’s as rich as Bill Gates and easily more than enough for one person, in fact even two of us gourmands had to reluctantly leave some in the pot. A frantic mix of flavours, it’s the sort of comfort dish that rappers might go for – recognisable as home cooking, but only if home is a penthouse.
We leave with our carapaces strained to bursting, perhaps on reflection I should have let that bit of lobster roll escape after all.
The Little Lobster Bar is open Tuesday to Saturday
11am to 5pm and until 6pm on Fridays. In the evenings the 60-cover space can be hired out for events.
It’s all in the name – ever changing, very affordable, six course tasting menus from the mind of Chef Nico Simeone.
It’s been an astonishingly fast journey for Nico Simeone. From his first restaurant in Glasgow in 2015, he’s now knocking it for six all over the UK.
The concept is simple; an affordable, innovative, tasting menu of six courses that changes every six weeks.
Tasting menus? I hear you cry. Surely no one wants those anymore? In the wrong hands they had become a byword for a culinary theatre of cruelty, one where demonic chefs crazed with self importance battered you with course after course until you became angry and desperate to escape.
In theory though, a menu of innovative small plates cleverly thought through is a good idea if kept sensible in length (I once had a twenty four course menu that was unforgettable for all the wrong reasons), they are easily eaten and enjoyed.
So Six it is and for the opening six weeks In his new Canary Wharf restaurant Simeone has brought back his original hit The Chippie first served in Glasgow in 2017. It’s a meal themed around fish and chips, pies, and a deep fried Mars bar.
First though we add to our bill by trying an aperitif called Seaside 75. To a glass of Earl Grey, Prosecco and lemon juice we stir in samphire and sea salt. This causes the glass to froth like those chemistry lessons where you added baking powder to vinegar. A nice bit of fun and a refreshing drink.
Also off-piste is what’s called ‘a snack’. Superb sourdough bread with rich shellfish butter that’s as iron grey as a battleship, plus cannelloni made from filo pastry and stuffed with salty taramasalata and topped with lemon gel and a smattering of caviar. Don’t try eating the pebbles, they’re real.
Curry sauce is not a chippie thing in the soft south, but north of Midland Keynes they can’t get enough. First course proper is Chips & Cheese – potato terrine cut into a chip and topped with a curry oil mayo that has the Proustian aroma of 1970s curries (if you’re old enough to remember those, that is).
A bowl of foamed Parmesan is where you dip your chip, a powerful and rich sauce that we both ended up scraping out the bowl with the desperation born from knowing that it was coming to an end.
Of course you need battered fish in a chippie, and it came as a ‘scampi’, but made with a chunk of monkfish cheek. Once upon a time monkfish was regarded as a cheap version of scampi, my mother used to warn of restaurants that tried passing it off. Hard to believe now with monkfish being more expensive.
A rich dill and butter sauce set off the cheek, along with a tangy gribiche sauce (posh tartare) and peas, which I thought were a bit starchy and undercooked.
A good chippie always has a few pies in its warming section, usually wrapped in plastic and containing meat whose origin it’s best not to speculate on. Nico’s take on this is a mini jewel of steak pie made from unimpeachable Speyside beef shin accompanied by mushroom duxelle and an onion ketchup that hints at HP but soars above it.
This is just the right size; any larger a portion and I’d have been done for. As it is, I am soon refreshed and ready for the ‘Big One’.
The Fish Supper is a lovely chunk of Shetland cod cosied up with sharp and briny pickled mussels, a remarkable confit fennel and crisp, salty samphire. A beer emulsion brings it all together.
The final savoury almost tips me over. It’s a heavy one that picks up on the theme of the dubious sausages and frankfurters usually found in a chippie, but of course is all high quality here. It’s a trio of porky bits with apple, black pudding, salt baked celeriac and a sharp choucroute to cut the fats.
It’s very good but I am glad it’s the last of the mains, I am flagging now, so dessert ahoy. And what else could it be but ‘deep fried Mars Bar’.
Did this dish ever exist, or was the story of how a chip shop in Scotland made them in the mid-1990s just an English joke about the Scottish diet? Who knows, but it’s a great story and here is its 2021 interpretation.
It’s not of course a real Mars Bar chez Nico, but a slab of chocolate pavé topped off with a deep fried dough ball and dished on a bed of chocolate soil (hello Heston) alongside a quenelle of Irn-Bru sorbet. Irn-Bru for those not familiar with it, tastes rather like Tizer although Scottish people get rather upset when you say that.
It’s a great finale to a great meal which comes in, without the extras we had, at a remarkable £37. When you think about what cod and chips cost in a chippie these days, that’s a real steal.
We also had the matched wines for an extra £33. Great choices, lucidly but not boringly explained each time by the charming staff.
The look of the restaurant, the cool staff and the superlative cooking make this one of London’s best deals for an affordable real treat. Okay it’s in Canary Wharf, and not everyone works there, but it’s a simple and short ride from central London.
Fish lunch or fish supper, it’s your choice, but hurry as the menu changes on September 17th.
The Culinary Traveller 