Rise and Shine!

Thinking about this month’s blog party theme of Brunch got me pondering whether they’d been other attempts to combine two meals into one catchy new meal but I’m fairly sure calling a late tea ‘dea’ or ‘tinner’ won’t catch on and twilight dinner wouldn’t be called a ‘dupper’ or ‘sinner’ – though the latter does rather conjure up visions of a wicked midnight feast!
I think the reason ‘brunch’ as a concept has proved so popular is the slightly decadent connotations, it smacks of a meal you’d have on holiday possibly after a late night carousing and you’re not sure whether a pain au chocolat would really cut it. Or it’s a leisurely weekend meal when you’ve time for something more lavish than a mere snatched bowl of cornflakes or a slice of toast. It’s a time for pancakes, good old British fry ups or the perennial favourite – the proper bacon sarnie. And me being what people refer to in slightly disdainful tones as ‘not a morning person’ find the thought of that sort of culinary wizardry on a ‘school day’ way too taxing. But come the weekend when I haven’t been rudely awakened by an insistent alarm I am a lot more amenable to whisking eggs and breaking out the smoked salmon.
So assembling a miscellany of vaguely brunch-like black and white crockery I started considering what to create for this month's log party offerings.
If I was going out to a restaurant for brunch I would really only have one thing on my mind and that would be Eggs Benedict. A dish designed to include most of my major food groups – a golden yolked poached egg just waiting to erupt over the smoky ham and muffin and the whole enchilada drenched in a creamy smooth buttery hollandaise sauce. Sometimes I fancy a change and opt for the smoked salmon and spinach version but normally it’s the classic – and woe betide the poached egg not being runny enough!
The rather topsy-turvy nature of my life at the moment I should perhaps have plumped for the easy option of fashioning canapés from slices of buttered toast but instead I go straight for the ‘double or nothing’ by choosing to make Miniature Eggs Benedict. It’s quite a feat of timing and tenacity as not only have you got the ever fiddly quail eggs to decapitate and then poach for just shy of 2 minutes there’s the possibility of a temperamental hollandaise to contend with also. But I thought faint hearts and all that and gathered the ingredients. The easy job was getting a round cutter and making bread and ham discs for the base of the Benedict. Next it was the pan of water on for poaching and the careful beheading of the resilient quail egg shells. Thomas Keller in the French Laundry cookbook prepares an awesome egg and bacon amuse gueule and recommends firstly gently removing the more rounded egg of the quail egg shell with a serrated knife – I opted for a steak knife to pierce those tough little shells. Then the topped quail egg should be placed back in the egg box in preparation for poaching. This ‘mis en place’ has top be done first as it is quite tricky, will definitely impede you and mess up the poaching timings if you try the beheading one by one whilst hovering over the simmering water.
With the eggs all lined up back in their box I turned to the hollandaise. I only needed a soupçon to nappé the domes of poached quail eggs so I opted for the ‘almost instant hollandaise’ recipe using my trusty silver Bamix. It uses only a single egg yolk so is the perfect quantity. The final flourish has to be the tiniest flecks of freshly chopped chives. My perfectionist streak kicks in and they have to be uniform little green rings – I’m sure Thomas Keller would be proud!
After my perfect brunch dish it seems odd to try and think beyond that but I do rather have a penchant for my super creamy scrambled eggs. And deploying the never-tainted-by-coffee liquorice Nigella espresso cups seems the perfect vehicle for a spoonful or two of the soft eggy curds and of course topped with a scatter of that verdant dandruff again.
For my final brunch morsel I just had to pounce on one of my favourites what I spotted it in Waitrose’s Authentic French range – the Tarte Flambé. I have waxed lyrically about this little Alsatian treat before. It is like a pizza, but a pizza for those who can’t abide tomato. It has a crème fraîche base and lardons of smoky bacon strewn on top and is very delicious. And this new Waitrose one – sadly not available via Ocado yet is a tasty little snack and if I had a wood fired pizza oven to hand I am sure I would whip up a Tarte Flambé regularly for brunch or other meals.
The obligatory drink that always flummoxes me was an easier choice this month as any foodie diva knows that a decadent brunch deserves a proper White Peach Bellini – just like Harry’s Bar in Venice. And again thanks to Waitrose I could get my hands on the requisite white peach pulp and not have to resort to orange juice as seems to be de rigueur in ‘lesser’ establishments. Well it makes a change from cracking open the Chambord I guess.
Happy brunching…let’s see what everyone else brought to the party…

Duck and cover

I was combing an unfamiliar supermarket for inspiration today and espied the butcher’s counter. Ideally I would prefer a nice independent butcher’s but these are almost extinct nowadays. The plump duck breast seemed to be calling me and being a butcher’s counter at least I could purchase a single one.
After the obligatory criss-cross scoring of the skin to allow the roast potato adoring duck fat to render and to crisp up the skin I pop the breast skin-side down into a hot pan. After about 10 minutes I drained off the fat (dreaming of future roasties) and flipped the breast to be flesh-side down in the pan for another 5 minutes. Removing the duck from the pan I added a healthy glug of Balsamic Vinegar and a squirt of runny honey (probably about a tea spoon). After it has reduced the duck was popped back in the pan and turned in the unctuous glaze. Then leaving to rest for a few minutes it was served with creamy leeks with bacon lardons. And it was good!

Living to eat or eating to live

I’ve been terribly delinquent in maintaining my blog for a while now. This is not because I don’t want to do it any more or have nothing to write about but I am just finding the overwhelming numbing effect of dealing with M being ill dulls my creativity and impedes my enjoyment of writing abut food.
It is not just M being ill but the horrible way her illness has manifested itself. M and I have shared so many fabulous foodie experiences, travelling all over Europe and the US, me avoiding her favourite tomatoes and goat cheese and she trying to pack in as much crab as possible and of course potato and vegetable dodging. But the cruellest of fates to befall any foodie diva, a ‘foodie diva en passant’ or a vicarious fine-diner is to not be able to eat any more and me regaling her with tales of feasting seems to be adding to the torment.
Every time I espy a recipe abundant in lobster, scallops or crab I immediately think of whipping it up as a surprise treat on my next visit and then I remember that only one of us is able to consume it.
It is not surprising that my attitude to food when I am with M has changed, I feel almost embarrassed if I enjoy a meal knowing that she can’t share it with me. I couldn’t dream of tucking into her much-loved mini Coquilles St Jacques (see above) whilst she looked on and even watching Masterchef together seem a little like teasing. And any meals I do have I feel it should be consumed furtively keeping the sights and aromas hidden.
I guess we can all be separated into two groups – those who live to eat and those who eat to live. Of course I live to eat, I spend much of my leisure flicking through food magazines and cookbooks, watching food programmes (occasionally contradicting the TV cook à la Gregory’s Girl), planning some future extravagant feast, writing up previously enjoyed banquets and also perusing farmer’s market and food shows, cooking up a storm and of course eating.
Those grabbing food carelessly as a necessary fuel to drive their entirely inedible life are very alien to me, and I feel they must be missing a crucial part of their lives.
So many of my social interactions are around a table, it doesn’t have to be lavish dining as sometimes it’s just sharing a bowl of hot salty chips or literally breaking bread but these times are the lifeblood of my existence. Some of my absolutely favourite memories resonate with glorious food and the wonderful people I enjoyed it with.
I cannot imagine having to be fed via a tube into my intestine and having to come to terms with maybe never being able to enjoy a meal again but M looks on the bright side and says how little of my dreaded washing up there is to do now.
Dearest M, I really hope they can eventually rebuild your stomach bionically and we can sit down at one of our favourite restaurants tables again. And in the mean time I will do my best to try a cultivate other obsessions we can share that you aren’t excluded from. But I also know you like hearing about my culinary exploits so when you're feeling stronger I hope you'll find plenty of tasty things to read - I better start hitting my blog again!

Some like it hot...

Stephanie wants us to add a little spice to this month’s blog party, and my first thought was urgghh I am not particularly a fan of spicy food but that’s possibly just my personal prejudice. I have always disliked curries of any heat and an abundance of chillies in any food but other spices I really do enjoy. Freshly crushed aromatic black pepper scattered over almost anything, a few scrapes of nutmeg makes a cauliflower cheese or egg custard sing, I love a little kick from some Dijon mustard smeared over meat before searing, hot cross buns cries out for mixed spice and cinnamon and finally ginger enrobed with silky dark chocolate has to be one of my favourite culinary marriages.
I was interested to read in Glynn Christian fascinating book “How to Cook without Recipes” that he agrees with me that the excessive chilli heat that some diners insist upon is an incorrect assumption that who you need it enjoy certain foods authentically. He refers to locals having a chilli-scarred tongue due to years of eating the hot food of their native cuisine as to them it doesn’t taste particularly hot. If I tried to keep up with my delicate northern England palate, I just find it much too painful and wouldn’t remotely get any pleasure from that meal. And even though I’ve enjoyed a warming hint of chilli in an autumnal butternut squash risotto or if feeling daring in a square of dark chocolate but that’s the extent of my tolerance. Glynn quotes Aerosmith’s Joe Perry talking in BonAppetit magazine on the subject - “I found a lot…bury the flavour of everything else. A really strong habanero flattens your taste buds. It’s like listening to really loud music all time. You don’t hear any nuance anymore”
But without resorting to my Masala Dabba (generally a double lidded stainless steel tin containing seven smaller stainless steel pots) for spicy dabblings as I don’t actually own one, I am sure I can spice things up a bit anyway.
Firstly it’s just after Valentine’s Day and I do love a heart shaped food so when I decided for some delicious canapés of peppered beef on rösti I thought I’d spice things up by cutting the rösti into heart-shapes - just to make it a little more challenging. The taste was unaltered but they made cute and tasty little nibbles.
Inspired by a Nigella recipe for some sticky gingerbread, I thought I’d reinterpret it into a sticky little mouthful. Nigella topped hers with a lemon laced icing whereas for some peculiar reason I felt that the super sticky gingerbread wasn’t enough so I scattered mine with cubes of even more incredibly sticky stem ginger. I think it will take a week to syrupy stickiness off my fingers by the stem ginger topped ginger cake was very good to eat.
My first thought of spicy drink was a Bloody Mary but though I know that a vodka-free version is a Virgin Bloody Mary I wasn’t sure what you’d call a tomato-free one, Mary perhaps? As I wasn’t sure that a Mary would set the world alight I went in search of some ginger cocktails. I’ve had some fabulously ginger-laced concoctions at Jewel and Lab in the rare occasions I indulge in cocktails in some trendy London bar. I found a great suggestion from Olive magazine for a Ginger Champagne, and as I had a surfeit of cubed stem ginger and some root ginger I thought I’d embellish it all a little – Ginger Fizz anyone?
So despite not being able to cope with food that it too hot, hot, hot (I’ve probably been traumatised by that scary green chilli on the Subway advert) I’ve managed to spice up my February a little. And if they answer the door to me, as I am rather late – their spicy contributions will be here.

Hawaii five oh!

Hmm Hawaiian food, Stephanie’s latest blog party theme certainly posed a challenge to me. Is it terribly wrong of me to immediate think of pizza? Okay to be honest I have never indulged in Hawaiian food, but I am not quite as ignorant as I was. I watched an old series of Top Chef last year and became a little more conversant with the repast of the ‘Big Island’. But despite my slight new knowledge I didn’t think I’d be able to rustle up anything resembling Kim Chee, Poi, Poke or Taro. So I thought I’d just go back to my first thought of ‘pineapple’.
I haven’t had a pineapple on my pizza for many years; I guess it would have been a mainstay on my very first pizzas, when I thought it was good to have ‘deep-pan’, and often found it hard to convince the kitchen to keep tomato far away from my pizza. My pizza tastes have now matured (or so I believe!). The thinnest and crispiest of pizza bases is more highly prized now, especially if given that distinctive smoky taste from a wood-fired oven. I would never dream of having pineapple on my pizza now, it is considered terribly unauthentic and most pizza places eschew pineapple, unless they are being ironic! Now I hanker for a crème fraîche topped thin base with some torn artichoke, pancetta and mozzarella. Oh yes, terribly grown up!
But I don’t want to make pizza for this event, no I thought I’d have a retro moment a revisit my very first introduction to the exciting world of sandwich toasting. I know I was still at school when this magical Breville machine turned up in our kitchen. I flicked through the accompanying booklet and my eyes alighted on the Hawaiian, a gorgeous concoction of melting cheese, canned flaked tuna and pineapple rings. This delight became my main indulgence on returning home from school until a kybosh was put on my excessive pineapple consumption.
I haven’t had these little tropical treat for many years but this month’s blog party seemed to be a good time to resurrect the idea. I wanted to try and create the sealed edges of the Breville because it keeps all the molten cheese and pineapple juices inside where it belongs. I pondered trying to make some bread ravioli like tiny Cornish pasties but it all seemed way too complicated so I opted for putting the buttered bread in the sandwich toaster as usual – I now have one that you place on the hob and turn over half way through cooking but my cunning plan was to start toasting the sandwich and then delicately rotate it 90 degrees to seal edges a second time. This would make little ham, cheese and pineapple filled quarter toasted sandwiches. The sealing didn’t entirely work and cheese and pineapple juice oozed out all over the place but the resultant sandwiches still tasted pretty good.
For the dessert idea, I wanted to use the remaining pineapple pieces on little skewers with a little chocolate sauce drizzled over the spiked fruit. I had intended dipping the dried pineapple slices in chocolate but they were a little thinner and crispier than I thought, a tasty little nibble though so I served them on the side.
For the drink I had another blast from the past and went for pineapple juice and lemonade laced with fresh pineapple and a couple of sun-baked slices. Pineapple juice and lemonade was the drink I had when I used to frequent pubs with my older friends before I was eighteen. My parents agreed I could go for a drink after we’d finish our evening’s voluntary work on the sole condition that I didn’t indulge in alcohol. And I didn’t, I was a very good girl! Instead I had glass after glass of pineapple and lemonade, not a drink I’ve had since I think. So not authentically Hawaiian I think, I am sure Stephanie’s other guests will do better but at least I went for the tropically vibrant plates to serve my attempts on. Aloha!

Vegging out!

One of the items I’ve had on my list of things to try for way too long is a vegetable box scheme. Well why wouldn’t I? It would be almost like receiving a mini green hamper every week and previous visitors to this little old blog know that ‘hampers are my one weakness’! But my reticence with starting one has always been the age-old ‘how do I deal with the inevitability of being absent when the box arrives?’ It’s not as if I can go to the post office to collect it and the nature of the box demands swift attention.
But my musings were reignited by a terribly kind offer from those lovely people at Abel & Cole to trial one of their legendary vegetable boxes. And on investigating their site and chatting to one of their helpful customer service reps I was given lots of handy suggestions as to where my proposed parcel could lurk in lieu of a handy shed before being lugged to my kitchen. So after informing them that tomatoes mustn’t darken my box, I stood by to give it a go. I knew that Thursday was my delivery day but I wasn’t sure if we’d established which Thursday it would arrive. On returning home I glanced at the couple of sites we’d pondered but there was no box however clearly it had gone into some sort of stealth mode and I didn’t see it until Saturday morning when coincidentally I was on my way to the shops to get some food for my proposed French feast. How I didn’t spot it with one of the bin lids resting jauntily over half of it was a mystery. Perhaps I thought it was rubbish waiting to be collected but there it was lying in wait and eager to be turned into something wonderful.
On revealing the fruit and vegetables therein I was certainly impressed by the bounty. I had a bunch of bananas that MC immediately squirreled away for future snacking knowing that bananas are just yellow tomatoes to me. The mangoes immediately settled what I could make as a light salad tomorrow after the rich excesses of my French feast and the tangerines would add to the festive supplies. The plump firm leeks were immediately pounced on to make a sweet leeks and cider-doused creamy sauce for my Normandy mussel dish; D had designs on the beetroot for their Sunday lunch and I never struggle to find a use for potatoes and even onions, as long as they are finely sliced. The cabbage could accompany the final rashers of smoky bacon or of course, there’s always colcannon. But the earthy mushrooms lurking in their paper bag caught my eye and gave me an idea for properly christening my first vegetable box.
It is Sunday brunch time and there are some leftovers from the lavish French feasting last night and surprisingly some of Harvey Nichol’s finest truffled Brie survived and has been carefully wrapped in waxed paper, perhaps it would like to join forces with my mushrooms and make a heady, highfaluting mushrooms on toast.
Whilst the sliced mushrooms sautéed in some butter and a soupçon of oil, the slice of bread received a slight toasting. The mushrooms are now all lightly bronzed and receive a good few grinds of nutmeg and a little lug of double cream to moisten them. The creamy elixir is tipped onto the slice of toast and topped with a few thick slivers of the truffled Brie and the merest sprinkling of thyme leaves from my sadly very reluctant, shy thyme plant. With a final burnish under the grill to melt the cheese slightly and the fancy-pants mushrooms on toast is ready for its close-up. And as I suspected, it tasted exceedingly good!
Let’s hope I get a chance to do the rest of the box justice before heading off for the Christmas holidays. I regrettably cannot avail myself easily of D and MC’s marvellously abundant allotment so the next best thing will have to a locally sourced, organic vegetable box scheme delivery to my door.
I already have the wonderful “Cooking Outside the Box - the Abel & Cole cookbook” from when it was released a couple of years ago so it’s only seems right and proper that I complement it with the Abel & Cole box, especially now I know that they are experts at dealing with the likelihood of their customers not being around to receive their parcel problem. I guess many of us will be reviewing our dining habits in the inevitable parsimonious months ahead so being creative with spanking fresh vegetables could definitely be a positive and healthy step. Now I know how my box might be camouflaged I wouldn't fail to spot it again.
I think for those of us who aren't vegetable-dodgers (you know who you are) 2009 will have to be the year of embracing the box, I for one am looking forward to it.

Family Festive Favourites

I can’t believe it – next week and Christmas will be a pile of torn paper, ribbon and wondering what to do with that leftover turkey, a handful of sprouts and a roastie or two. I’m pretty much on top of the Christmas presents; though I’ve managed to lose one though which is both odd and massively annoying as now I really need to replace it. And of course it would be one that I had delivered from a specialist site! But the cards, I haven’t even started yet, hmm perhaps a tad late again.

This month’s blog party seemed a little like last month with the festive theme but this time with the traditional twist. What are our little family foodie peccadilloes that pepper these holiday feasts? Well as usual a host of varied ideas flooded my brain, some I managed to pull off in time and the others may sadly have to be confined to the food bin. And generally this just means I was too ambitious which exactly coincided with me being just too busy.

So what did I manage to pull off in the nick of time? Breakfast is a crucial meal on Christmas day. Our family tradition is to start passing round the parcels and opening them one by one at the stroke of midnight and this has been known to take a while so breakfast becomes a moveable feast. And what would this possible late breakfast/ brunch consist of? If we’re feeling deeply ‘family favourite’ it would probably be bacon sarnies all round though ideally in a well buttered oven-bottom (now you’re talking!) but smoke salmon lends itself so well to Christmas lunch but as we don’t normally have a prequel to the main event the smoked salmon started appearing earlier in the day. So that’s exactly what my first canapés were about – tasty bacon sandwiches and spoons of smoked salmon laced scramble eggs. And a small pause of appreciation for my wonderful diddy silver cake stand. Though ‘cake stand’ is perhaps too large a concept so instead I’ll call it a ‘tiny tiered podium for petit fours’. And it’s that time of year so the seasonal sequins are out again.

And for the homage to many a past Christmas extravaganza the next nibble is beef wrapped in a Parma ham jacket. This displaced the traditional turkey in our household many Christmases ago. The original D never was a turkey fan and when asked for an alternative it was always beef. This became the time-honoured treatment as it was as good hot or cold the day after. I think the inspiration was from a Jamie Oliver recipe and then it just became the way we ate beef. I’ve never made a miniature version before but it tasted just as fabulous.

And for the drink, amongst the inevitable sweet Muscat wine that we always have, they will be some mulled wine or winter PIMM’s. This delicious concoction is warmed PIMM’s no.3 (which is the brandy version) with three times as much apple juice and finished with a few slices of red apple. It fair warms the cockle of your heart.

The bites that missed the deadline are definitely memories from Christmases gone by. Firstly it would have to be sprouts! The seasonal emergence of sprouts seems to fill many diners with dread but I love them. It is true that many a crime has been committed in the name of sprouts; they are either cooked within an inch of their lives or left a little bitter from lack of cooking. I liked them lightly steamed or boiled and then sautéed in a little butter and then served with bacon lardons and if feeling so very classic Christmas table some chestnuts. Though I’ll never forget the first time I took on the epic Christmas meal preparation for a group of friends. It was probably the first time I’d tackled it but promised a table groaning with everyone’s favourite typical festive fare before we all headed off back to our families for Christmas. WJ and I set off to buy the necessary ingredients, we had no idea how much to buy of everything so grabbed a Family Circle magazine which I remembered flicking through stacks of as a child. It seemed we were in safe hands; we followed the shopping list to the letter including buying chestnuts for roasting. I can’t quite recall how many of us were eventually settled around the table, I think maybe five or possibly six but the big surprise was how much food we actually purchased. Everything was stacked away in their capacious kitchen and then WJ and headed off for some fabulous media party (WJ’s eminent connections I hasten to add, not mine). Due to a mix-up with door keys and some other WJ drama (there was also something) I didn’t finally return to this big house in Shepherd’s Bush until the early morning and be unable to get into the bedrooms thought I’d while away the time until everyone else surfaced prepping the vegetables. And what a mountain there was! I fashioned some tea towel apron over my little black velvet party dress and started the peeling and criss-cross cutting of all the sprouts – well I was following the doctrines of the terribly conventional Family Circle. When I was relieved of my KP duties after a couple of hours I have prepped an allotment worth of vegetable and also popped the scored chestnuts under the grill for roasting. I was sent to bathe and change into something less backless and whilst I surrounded myself in restorative bubbles I ran through the final plan and countdown in the Family Circle magazine. This is when I realised the classic mistake, in all our planning and slavishly following the campaign plan in the magazine, we hadn’t even checked the quantity of guests that this menu was for – so imagine my horror when I realised it was twelve! That immediately explained why they were just so much vegetables to be prepped. Before I even had time to ponder this error I could hear screaming from the kitchen downstairs and ran dripping in to the kitchen to see what drama was unfolding. And I was greeted with WJ and her housemates cowering underneath the kitchen table whilst shards of red-hot chestnut pieces whizzed around the kitchen. I’m not entirely sure if I hadn’t scored them enough or just they’d been left ‘roasting’ too long but they certainly took on a dangerous turn. I think the resultant meal went down rather well but we had about three times more food than required and the explosive chestnuts that were supposed to accompany the sprouts became legendary.

The sprouts I had grown up with were far less perilous; the original D had always insisted that his renowned gravy demanded the water from the boiled sprouts, some beef dripping or lard, corn flour and gravy browning but rather curiously never juices from the roasting meat. And as no Sunday lunch was complete with this much-loved gravy (well at least by the original D as no-one else was that enamoured) so sprouts always featured.

The other canapé I’d planned was involving some ubiquitous Paxo stuffing, I’ve made much more elaborate stuffing with all manner of sausage meats, herbs and fruits but the one M amongst others always hanker for is good old Paxo sage and onion. So curtailing both my desire (according to D) to find the most complicated method to make anything and my abhorrence of strange packets of dehydrated sawdust I have abandoned thoughts of anything more sophisticated. However unfortunately due to a houseful of people and my inability to slip some sort of sprout or Paxo canapé into the French feast I’d planned they will have to remain on the drawing board.

So I hope you are all a little more organised than me, the tree is groaning with shiny intriguing parcels and those cards were written and send a couple of weeks ago.

Festive felicitations to you all! And all those who got their acts together earlier – what did they bring to the party?

Not just Goodman but very Goodman

T now no longer GT but more like HT had kindly sent me a message from the wilds of Tanzania to remind me that I owed him a present.
And knowing HT I suspected that the way to satiate his carnivorous heart was a meat-based present. I had already procured a couple of packets of beef jerky from the inimitable Duane Reade in New York. DD and I had actually done the obligatory DR run on returning to our hotels after our wonderful meal at Union Square Café (sadly still not written up, though I certainly haven't forgotten that meal!) So it's well past midnight and we're in our finery, I'm carrying a little beaded Chanel evening bag, fully bejewelled etcetera and we're wandering the aisles of this neon drenched pharmacy cum general store filling our basket with the most eclectic purchases (black safety pins - what a good idea!, the obligatory beef jerky, vivid post-it notes, DD's beloved body washes, intriguing potions not available over the counter in neither Sydney nor London and the usual stash of Advil for P and T leading a sun kissed but gel-capped deprived life in Spain). Our mode of dress did seem somewhat incongruous but some time after returning I finally caught the Sex in the City film and was amused to see Carrie and Miranda shopping in Duane Reade looking rather fabulous. So maybe that's how it's done in New York.
One thing that New York is certainly awash with is fine steak houses whereas London doesn't have the same reputation. We have the various Gaucho Grills which I'd always been a fan of until my last two visits at one of the newer ones near London Bridge where we had shoddy service and for the first time I was distinctly unimpressed by the steak and then had to wait for the so-called accompanying vegetables to materialise. You can't knock the excellent meat at Smiths of Smithfield and I'm sure Mark Hix would do us proud at Hix's Oyster and Chophouse but I wanted the sort of steakhouse that you find in New York.
So what did I do - booked a table for us at Goodman, which is the first UK outpost of a Russian steakhouse chain. And even though I was intrigued by the thought of Russian beef and reservations evaporated when I heard they had their own meat drying room. Mmmm they take their meat very seriously at Goodman. The place is all very masculine with chocolate (or should I say rich gravy) coloured leather clad booths and dark wood tables and the largest steak knives ever. Do Russian oligarchs have particularly large hands? I'm not sure a vegetarian would be entirely happy here, it's all rather beefy and some of the diners looked like they're draped in the pelts of previous dinners. Well it can get very chilly in Moscow!
Our pretty Polish waitress brings us her show-and-tell tray (a little in the style of Gaucho) to explain the provenance and cut of this evenings beasts. We are offered amongst others a New York strip steak, the neat Australian fillet mignon (for ladies), the more marbled American rib-eye steak and the British rib - 800g of pure meaty goodness sliced off the bone for two to share. Or in the case of our resident solid little carnivore a light snack for one. But before we start on the main feature we have to select a few meaty starters.
E (D) goes sensibly for the organic salmon carpaccio with tomato seeds but D, HT and I dive straight in to the meat and whilst HT tucks into the selection of cured meats with spicy mustard D and I opt to split the Goodman beef tartare with avocado and herbs followed by the beef carpaccio, micro-cress, shave parmesan and aged balsamic. I don’t generally go for the avocado but I am partial to a little beef tartare and the key word there is ‘little’.
Every time I have ordered beef tartare in a restaurant I have found it so filling I haven’t been able to do it justice so it’s a perfect sharing platter. And D and I both have already set this precedence in Lille’s Brasserie André with their signature dish of steak tartare and despite several attempts we’ve never been able to finish a portion by ourselves. And in spite of not being a fan of the particular texture of avocado - it was a fine tartare and the carpaccio was not too shabby either.
It is worth pointing out that if you are of the vegetarian persuasion you can still enjoy a meat-free starter at Goodman. As you could have fire roasted aubergine, oven dried tomatoes and feta cheese or velouté of Jerusalem artichoke with white truffle oil. We were very happy with our distinctly non-vegetarian starters however and are looking forward to the main meat banquet.
To herald the imminent arrival of our meaty comestibles the largest steak knives ever are delivered. Clearly nothing is to impede our devouring of their fine meat.
HT isn’t disappointed and I am just able to very quickly ‘pap’ his 800g of grass-fed 28 day dry aged (on site) Rib on the Bone (British) for he starts dispatching it. It may have been a dish designed for two but someone’s been deprived of beef for a while is sure making up for it.
D has opted for the rib-eye steak whereas E(D) and I plumped for the fillet mignons. I choose to anoint my steal with some classic Béarnaise sauce - delicious!
The accompaniment has to be the hand-cut chips which come highly recommended by our waitress. And for the requisite greenness we have some creamed spinach. The steak is just fabulous, melt in the mouth, cuts like butter with our weapons and very fine indeed – this was a good choice, a Goodman choice.
As soon as we start the chips arrive we realise these are award winning chips and our virtuous thought of sharing one portion between the four of us is blown away immediately and we have to order a top up.
When we clean our plates our waitress kindly offers to escort us downstairs to view their aging room. Here we can see the next few week’s dinners maturing and reaching their optimum meatiness. We tear ourselves away quickly in case HT finds a knife and fork and barricades himself in – definitely his idea of a sweet shop!
For dessert they had me at warm chocolate fondant with pistachio ice cream so I didn’t bother looking at the rest of the menu. It transpired that I could have indulged in baked vanilla cheesecake, glazed vanilla crème brulée, iced peanut parfait or caramelised apple tart with cinnamon ice cream. If MC had been dining with us he could have enjoyed a selection of artisan cheeses from the board.
Goodman is given a resounding seal of approval by everyone - they certainly know their meat and deserve their three steak forks. It would have been the perfect evening if London transport hadn’t so systematically disappointed us at every turn; the gloss of our fabulous feast was slightly diminished by the tortuous two hour journey home. Well at least thanks to Goodman we weren’t the tiniest bit hungry!

Going to work on an egg...or four!

The intrepid T (aka my body is a temple) is going through a four-eggs-for-breakfast-a-day diet and as luck would have it my antique silver egg cups, spoons and stand arrived in the post yesterday. So it seemed very fitting to christen it thus – though when this shiny contraption was designed I suspect they thought four people would share in the mutual love of soft boiled eggs not just one lone protein junkie indulging his chicken-bothering habit. Ah well, they look nice anyway!

A-Maze-ing!

Maze has been on my list of must-visit restaurant since its opening but Jason Atherton’s artistry and brilliance as demonstrated on the Great British Menu Gherkin escapade in May this year totally clinched it for me. For Heston Blumenthal and a bevy (I did wonder if there was a collective term for chefs and I found various suggestions ranging from ‘spoilbroth’ to ‘drizzle’ though I prefer my own – ‘a sauté’) of the world’s supreme exponents of culinary excellence he whipped up his unusual Bacon, lettuce and tomato with Croque Monsieur followed by the utterly delicious sounding Dexter beef fillet, ox cheek, smoked potato purée and marrow bone. And I had to admit that I was secretly hoping to see the words Dexter beef and smoked potato purée on tonight’s menu. But I did bump into Jason Atherton at the Taste of Christmas event at Excel last week and he gave me a preview of the tasting menu so I was already prepared for a beefless evening.
Maze is probably the most casual of the Gordon Ramsay’s stable, Narrow and the other pubs notwithstanding (though I haven’t been to Boxwood yet) so gone were the acres of white linen and sparkling crystal replaced with more contemporary dark wood and American styling. Though we do have the quirky French touch of knife rests, well actually our entire place setting rests. I guess these are often deployed to eke out the cutlery and not to get the dirty knife on the lace and linen in between courses. Though I suspect we will have new cutlery for each course. Sadly for me and seemingly in the mode of so many wonderful restaurants nowadays, there is nowhere near enough light. I know I shouldn’t complain but I want my photographs to look as delicious as the food - not murky, grainy and entirely lacking the wow factor I’d like. Contrast the immaculate sculptural marinated beetroot dish at the top of this post captured by a professional photographer and flooded with some genuine light with my sad sepia rather flat lurking-in-the-shadows version above. Thank goodness it tasted like it does in the expert’s image not like it does in mine!
So whilst sipping the now completely obligatory Kir Imperial, E and I had a quick glance at the menus and immediately plump for the seven course Chef’s Menu. We also decide to split the alternative options between us so we can experience the entire wonderful menu.

Iron bark pumpkin latte with braised duck, black truffle syrup and cep brioche
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Marinated beetroot, Sairass cheese, pine nuts and Cabernet Sauvignon dressing
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Assiette of sandwiches, ‘BLT’ and croque monsieur
or
Slow cooked quail, marinated foie gras, raisin and saffron purée, marinated pear and ale vinegar
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Pan-fried halibut with black pudding, celeriac and sauce diable
or
Roasted hake in Parma ham, chorizo and pimento purée, squid paint
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Confit rare breed Sussex pork belly, pig’s head, quince confiture, parsnips
or
Roasted rack of lamb, winter vegetable purée, hispi cabbage salt marsh mutton shepherd’s pie
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Apple and caramel trifle, cider granité, apple cinnamon doughnut
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Floating island, ‘pink praline’, pear and caramel sorbet
or
Coconut panna cotta with black olive caramel, white chocolate granité

We asked the sommelier for some advice for a red and white wine to accompany the Chef’s Menu and she was probably the only mild disappointment of the night as she didn’t instil us with confidence that she really knew what she was doing. It felt like she had a price in mine as by incredible fluke every bottle she recommended was that precise amount but the style of the wine we wanted didn’t really enter into it. Anyway we picked a couple of our own and they seemed to do the trick very nicely.
Our first taste is the truly scrumptious (despite my unassuming photo) Iron bark pumpkin latte with braised duck, black truffle syrup and cep brioche. The bowl of frothy pumpkin soup is delivered with a little nodule of duck goodness with more duck lurking in the foamy depths. The waiter drizzles the enticing black truffle syrup into our bowl and we tuck in and it is a revelation. In fact when we’ve scraped our little bowls clean we’d quite happily polish off another bowl or six, it is that fabulous!
Next we come down to earth with the pretty Marinated beetroot, Sairass cheese, pine nuts and Cabernet Sauvignon dressing. Not that it isn’t delicate, tasty, a pleasing bite of the slivers of beetroot Carpaccio wrapped round the softest of creamy ricotta and beautiful to look at also but it can’t quite equal the heady heights of the soup!
After our two little amuse gueules we take different directions. And wait for this, drum roll…gasp of breath…without being strong armed into the decision I chose the Assiette of sandwiches, ‘BLT’ and croque monsieur and yes, I am completely aware what the ‘T’ in BLT stands for. This was my rationale; as much as I detest tomatoes in any shape or form I have a scale of degrees of tomato-ey evilness. At joint top are raw fleshy lumps of flaccid tomato (sometimes dressed up by calling it ‘concasse’) and thick, gloopy and frankly plain nasty tomato sauce. Tomato ketchup is very close behind; it’s no coincidence that sometimes it’s smeared on amateur dramatists to designate some dreadful catastrophic accident. At the ever so slightly less heinous end of the tomato scale are sun-dried tomatoes (in very small doses) and tomato essence. Obviously they still have the tomato taste that I really can’t get my head around (and yes, I’ve tried!) but the texture is not so abhorrent to me. So having watched Jason construct his witty Michelin take on sandwiches on the Great British Menu I knew that tomato pulp has been dripped through muslin over a period of hours leaving a pale liquid behind which then has gelatine added to make the bottom tomato jelly layer of the dish. The jelly is topped with bacon and onion cream with in turn is crowned with the most delicate of deep fried onion rings and miniature bacon lardons. As the martini glass is delivered to me the waiter floods it with an extremely verdant lettuce soup and instructs me to eat by spooning through the three BLT layers. I am probably more tentative about delving too deeply into the scary jelly layer but the lettuce and bacon are strong anyway. Actually I could have never guessed than mere lettuce could be so powerful. I didn’t really get hit round the head with tomato and I really loved the bacon-y cream and feisty lettuce soup.
To accompany the homage to an American sandwich I had a ‘soldier’ of the archetypal French sandwich a croque monsieur. The croque monsieur was soft and unusually made from brioche so I really only got a tiniest hint of the ham and cheese amongst all that buttery fluffy brioche.
E had the Slow cooked quail, marinated foie gras, raisin and saffron purée, marinated pear and ale vinegar. I got to taste a little quail, the unctuous foie gras with the fruity sauce and it was also delicious and very accomplished.
For the fish course I’d chosen the Roasted hake in Parma ham, chorizo and pimento purée, squid paint, as the sauce diable sounded a little alarming. I am also not so crazy about pimento (yes, I am constantly told I am a nightmare) but E seemed to be much keener about the pepper family than I and after enjoying his Pan-fried halibut with black pudding, celeriac and sauce diable polished off the purée. The roasted hake is perfect though, firm and flavoursome and really almost everything is improved by wrapping it in Parma ham or bacon, so full points there!
I think we both fancy the pork but I have had first dibs on all the other courses and lamb sounds pretty fine also so it’s the Roasted rack of lamb, winter vegetable purée, hispi cabbage salt marsh mutton shepherd’s pie for me whilst E has the Confit rare breed Sussex pork belly, pig’s head, quince confiture, parsnips. My lamb is succulent and tasty with the sweet and fruity additions of parsnips and quince.
And if that isn’t enough I have a diminutive little shepherd’s pie as a side dish. It is all just excellent and even though I struggle to finish all the shepherd’s pie E helps me and also declares it to be comfort food at its finest.
I’m just getting to the stage when I feel pleasantly full but we’ve closed the savoury door and have the sweet stuff coming and I’m pretty sure I can cope with that.
Firstly we have a wonderful palate cleanser of Apple and caramel trifle, cider granité, apple cinnamon doughnut. It has that pert sharp taste of crunchy apples with the fabulous accoutrement of a flawless dinky doughnut. The whole thing is a miniature orchard feast with the cider, cinnamon and apple.
I’ve opted for the girlier of the two desserts which is the Floating island, ‘pink praline’, pear and caramel sorbet. It is light, downy and hugely refreshing – definitely a pink and girlie way to end a meal. E had another one of Maze’s signature dishes Coconut panna cotta with black olive caramel, white chocolate granité. Jason is a fan of contrasting salt and sugar hence the unusual combination of olive and caramel.
The final flourish is the petits fours, we have lollipops, rosewater jelly, dark chocolate cubes, white chocolate covered pistachios and raspberries. The lollipops are iced pineapple chunks smothered in very far from the Girl Guide campfire marshmallow, deliciously singed around the edges and perfectly gooey in the middle. Almost makes you want to tell a ghost story!
It seems that E just like another E – Edmund who succumbs to enchanted rose-flavoured sweets courtesy of the White Witch of Narnia is an aficionado of Turkish Delight, and seems pretty delighted with Jason’s interpretation of his favourite. The other chocolates have a wonderful intense flavour as well; we are being truly spoilt for sure! The couple on the next table don’t seem to have room for their tiny chocolates so we kindly assist them!
Jason Atherton is a seriously talented chef; I know he has the accolade of the first British chef to hang out with Ferran Adrià of the best restaurant in the world fame El Bulli and has also worked for Marco Pierre White, Pierre Koffman, Nico Ladenis, his fellow finalist on the Great British Menu Stephen Terry and then Gordon Ramsay in Dubai. When Jason opened Maze to great acclaim in 2005 the idea was to serve a menu of small tapas-style dishes of contemporary French food with an Asian twist and all the menus seem to follow that premise. When interviewed about his tasting dishes, Jason said 'You've got more chances to express yourself and it's much more creative.' It’s a pleasurable surprise to see this alchemist in the restaurant tonight, often when you see a chef on television you might think that he’s hung up his chef whites in favour of a media career. But Jason has been slaving over a hot chopping board this service and is now doing the rounds chatting to some of the diners. I guess being part of the Ramsay clan you are used to having Gordon’s name above the door and not having your own and deserved name in lights and is possibly the reason Marcus Wareing made a bid for freedom earlier this year. But despite Jason’s many awards and accolades I hope he gets even more. Michelin do so love their classic old-school style of restaurant but I think he definitely deserves another star.
I’ll give Jason Atherton at Maze three forks, the diamond fork (it’s about time it was awarded to another restaurant) but I still think that someone should give that man another star – we've had a superb evening and his food is truly amazing!
And thanks to E for helping me tick another one off my restaurants of my heart’s desire list and your ever so handy torch incorporated in your Swiss Army watch that gave a glimmer of light to the shadowy table. I went for miniscule diamonds in my watch but then I’m not a bloke and just not as practical, and that just shows how wrong I am! Imagine if I needed to remove a stone from a horse's hoof, what would I have done?