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Archive for June, 2008

strumpet in a sleeping bag (aka whore in a blanket)

Posted in ingredients, olive oil dough, packed lunch, picnic, recipes, restaurants, tagged , , , on June 30, 2008| 2 Comments »

I mean this most sincerely, it’s not some cheap trick to lure porn-surfers to my food blog; why would I want to do that?  It’s wordplay on Pigs in Blankets but to satisfy those at the back, here’s an uncut image (for illustration purposes only, please) from the mind-boggling immeatchu blog.

Not sorry to disappoint, I’m referring to the sexiest pasta sauce of all, Puttanesca; a store-cupboard classic from Naples.   Puttana being Italian for whore, puttanesca means whore-style: naturally there is some debate about how it acquired this intriguingly salty name.  It’s all true no doubt, but as importantly it’s a delicious dish to give hunger a good seeing-to and a pushover to pull a few ingredients from fridge and cupboard for the laziest gal – or guy – in town.
raw puttanesca on olive oil dough

Or on a languorous afternoon, do as I did: put a bit of lead in the pencil of some elderly olive oil dough and wrap it around puttanesca’s uncooked ingredients for a putta nuda al forno: salaciously delicious – or deliciously salacious…just try twisting your tongue around that.

Putta Nuda al fornoputtanesca calzone

  • 2 salt-cured anchovies, filleted
  • 4 sun-dried tomatoes in olive oil, sliced
  • 10 Niçoise olives, stoned
  • 1 TBS capers, drained
  • dried oregano
  • a fistful of olive oil dough

Shape, strew and scatter as in first pic, stretch the long edges of dough over the filling to meet in the middle and press to seal.  Bake in a hot oven about ½ an hour, basting beforehand and after 15 minutes with oil from the tomatoes.  Cool slightly, slice and serve.

Although there are acceptable variations to the cooked sauce, never have I encountered as total a travesty as at a certain trattoria in Vieux Nice, to which I not-entirely-ironically refer as Casa della Disasta: according to our waitress, their pasta puttanesca contained no olive, neither anchovy nor caper!  Incidentally, on top of that surprise, the line at the till was not for takeaways but disgruntled diners queuing to question the errors on their bills – all in the management’s favour, natch.  Make of that what you will.

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not-so-supermarket price wars

Posted in food politics, shopping, tagged , , on June 28, 2008| Leave a Comment »

So Asda and Tesco have been investing wads of cash in advertising campaigns for their all-new all-phoney price war: loss leader largesse = long checkout queues.  Much as I loathe the pair – for crimes against aesthetics as much as for their ethics – I must offer my congratulations: should keep some of the johnnies-come-lately credit-crunching yet 4-wheel driving riff raff out of my local Lidl.

the supermarket trap
graffiti street art photographed in Leake Street tunnel, Waterloo last Saturday

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parmesan custard, anchovy infantrymen

Posted in recipes, tagged , , , on June 26, 2008| 2 Comments »

An attempt at improvising le Café Anglais’ legendary menu item had me feeling like Midas with a golden pond at sunset gilding each ramekin, but we found a custard richer than Croesus made a heavy hors d’oeuvre.  Mind you, I was using all-double cream, whereas surprisingly, Mr Leigh advises a lean – almost mean – half milk/half single blend.

Parmesan custard, anchovy toast, Stilton cream
So, with budget and midriff in mind I gladly followed his recipe to the letter, although being disinclined to faff I can’t say the same for the anchovy toast and fell in with anchovy infantrymen instead.

Although Rowley’s recipe worked well enough, a touch of cornflour would have seen off all splitting and a dose of double cream will undoubtedly up its unctuousness.  After all, if you’re going to the trouble of making this at home it might as well feel like a little luxury.

Gastroplod’s Parmesan custards & anchovy infantrymen

(with thanks to Rowley Leigh for providing my template)

  • 300ml double cream
  • 300ml full fat milk or single cream
  • 100g finely grated Parmesan
  • 4 egg yolks
  • a scant tablespoon cornflour
  • pepper, nutmeg
  • sliced wholemeal sandwich bread
  • anchoïade/anchovy paste/Gentlemen’s Relish

Lightly butter six ramekins. Scald the cream and milk in a heavy based pan then whisk in the Parmesan, keeping back a tablespoon or two for gratinating the tops, and stir to melt thoroughly.  Leave to cool as rapidly as you can.

Set the oven to 150C.  Whisk the egg yolks with the cornflour, making sure there are no lumps and everything is well blended, then whisk the yolk mixture into the cream/milk with a good grinding of pepper and grating of nutmeg.

Place the ramekins in a bain-marieand bake for 20 minutes, until just set.  Remove from the oven and turn on the grill to medium-high.  Take the ramekins from the water bath to arrest cooking and sprinkle the custards with the reserved Parmesan, then place under a hot grill for just a couple of minutes to burnish.

Toast some brown bread, scrape lightly with anchoïade, anchovy paste or Gentlemen’s Relish (Patum Peperium) and cut into soldiers for dunking into the custard; serve immediately or your warriors may turn into wimps…

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pain o’pulled pork

Posted in olive oil dough, packed lunch, picnic, recipes, tagged , , on June 25, 2008| Leave a Comment »

A spicy, meaty, totally convenient-y version of my stuffed olive oil bread.  Make a batch of pulled pork, freeze it on trays then bag for use later.  Pulled pork is a Southern U.S. barbecue classic, yet amenable to countless variations and interpretations by those unfettered by the shackles of tradition (did I say bigotry?).  Here’s the basic recipe:

Pulled Pork

Get hold of a 1 or 2 kg boneless pork shoulder joint and make a dry spice rub, for example:olive oil dough stuffed with pulled pork

  • 4 TBS cumin seeds
  • 2 TBS muscovado
  • 6 TBS pimentón
  • 1 TBS dried thyme
  • 2 TBS sea salt
  • 1 clove garlic, crushed

Grind the cumin and mix it together with the other ingredients.  If your pork is tied up, untie it to expose maximum surface area and roll the meat around in the spice mix, rubbing in well so that the whole lot sticks.

If you have a slow cooker it will really come into its own now: pack the pork within – no need to tie up again as you’ll be shredding not slicing – and cook at low for several hours or even overnight.  Sufficient moisture should emerge from the pork itself to make adding extra unnecessary.

If you lack a slow cooker put the pork in an ovenproof dish and place in a hot oven (200C plus).  Turn the oven down immediately to 120C and cook for 3 or 4 hours or more, placing a lid on the dish after 2 hours if it looks like it might dry out.  If it dried out before you got to it, pour over a very little wine, stock or water just to keep everything moist – but not wet – and replace the lid.  Do make sure you’re cooking it long and slow or the meat fibres will toughen and make shredding impossible.

Remove from oven, reserving and refrigerating any excess liquid in case you need it later (skim off fat before using); let rest and cool slightly for around 15 minutes.  Separate the joint into manageable pieces and shred the meat with two forks along its muscle fibres, discarding any large hunks of fat, although most will have melted away.

If freezing, spread the shredded pork out on baking trays – covered with greaseproof or silicon paper so it doesn’t stick and place in the freezer overnight or until solid, then working quickly, break into chunks and throw them into a large resealable bag to dip into for use later.  It works brilliantly baked from frozen inside the olive oil dough; just make sure you freeze it in small enough clumps.

If eating straight away, the traditional manner is to add a slurp of barbecue sauce and stuff it in a burger bun to eat with coleslaw but it also goes fantastically well over rice (loosened with any leftover liquid), on a baked potato or in a burrito, and, of course, baked inside olive oil dough to make a perfect picnic or packed lunch – in slices, even party food.

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Cafe Baixamar, Mahon de Menorca

Posted in overseas, restaurants, Summer, tagged , , on June 24, 2008| 3 Comments »

interior of Cafe Baixamar, Mahon de MenorcaCall me weird but I just don’t like it when my waitress takes such obvious offence at any punters daring to invade her erstwhile empty restaurant.  I understand her feelings; years of food service taught me there’s nothing so intrusive as a damn customer when you’ve just gotten used to a bit of solitude.  But those same years – and basic economics – also taught me to stand up & snap out of it, smile brightly and serve politely: as they say, it’s not rocket science – the pay’s better.

Our handy AA Twinpack guide recommended this place for its atmosphere but I doubt it intended the ambiance generated by a blasé bint who was too patently, petulantly cool to be bloody bothered by bloody customers and at lunch-time, at that: 1.45pm, 1345 hours.

In what way was it our fault there was no chilled cava?  ¡¿¡¿No chilled cava!?!?  And was this girl cronies with the (frozen) calamari?  Planning a painting of the (tinned) pimentóns piquillos?  Dating the (possibly pre-packaged) tortilla española?  We felt obliged that despite her simmering resentment our waitress brought anything at all, for not one thing was removed on her return to bar stool, tabletop disappearing beneath debris the while. (more…)

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Wong Kei rules

Posted in restaurants, tagged , , , , , , , on June 23, 2008| Leave a Comment »

I’m slowly, surely, resolutely and absolutely regaining lost advantage.  Time was, before my extended colonial (felt more like colonic) exile, the waiting warriors of the Wong Kei on Wardour Street actually recognised me: at my appearance in the doorway their faces broke into smiles, I was greeted with hellos AND priority seating – even on Saturday nights with the 4-storey stairwell sardined floor to ceiling with bridge-and-tunnelers.

And why?  My extravagant beauty and boundless charm of course; or ponder this: maybe it was because I was a regular punter and – this is important – I always tip at the Wong Kei (nothing beats cold cash & coin at melting inscrutable hearts).  And I do believe if any waiters deserve a tip it’s these dudes: brusquely efficient, they’re too busy working to tell me their names, spiel out the specials (there are none) or inform me fatuously that they’ll be my waiter for the evening, but I have never known them to be rude.  When my teapot needs replenishing it’s done with neither wave nor word required – talk about discreet – and our food arrives hot to trot: nothing gets to hang around the dumb waiter here.
A plate of fried kwai due - fresh rice noodles - at the Wong Kei on Wardour Street
I love eating at the Wong Kei; it’s good, it’s cheap and the streetwise professionalism of the waiters is pure entertainment when one’s companions are not.  And if your Soho Saturday night is shaping up on the dull side, just try walking out of here without paying – you’ll suddenly be the (anti-)hero of your own little Jackie Chan movie, only without the humour.  Or Jackie Chan.  I saw two hicks attempt such a dirty trick one busy but not-so lucky night (for them); the mix of militaristic precision and street-brawl outrage with which the waiters shot into active response was poetry in motion – and with all their shouting it was thrilling indeed.  Actually, don’t try this; just believe me or you will regret it and I have no idea if you’ll live to tell the tale, but I rather hope you won’t.

Instead, ingénues and interested others take note of my tips for a trip to the Wong Kei:

  1. indicate how many in your party immediately on arrival
  2. obey directions and go where you’re told – upstairs for couples & groups
  3. sit where you’re told – you will probably be sharing a table with strangers
  4. first check the menu in the window then don’t dither over it inside
  5. be adventurous; if you pick something too weird (or too much!) they’ll tell you
  6. shun the set menus – they’re not as good value
  7. drink the tea: it’s free whereas the alcohol can be warm (no ice provided)
  8. don’t ask for sugar or milk, it’s embarrassing and you won’t get them
  9. ask if you must for a fork, or (preferably) learn chopsticks
  10. flip the lid & keep it open for a teapot top-up/replacement
  11. avoid the washrooms if you can on a busy night
  12. LEAVE A TIP! show your appreciation or go elsewhere

crispy ducks and Wardour Street reflected in a Chinese restaurant window, Soho

41-43 Wardour Street, London, W1D 6PY
020 7437 8408

approx £5 per head depending on appetite, obviously

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parmesan custard with anchovy toast

Posted in recipes, restaurants, tagged , , , , , on June 21, 2008| Leave a Comment »

parmesan custard with anchovy toastOh joy! Today’s FT features Rowley Leigh sharing his wit, wisdom and, best of all, the recipe for this hot hors d’oeuvre, the talk of London town since the opening of his raved-over restaurant Le Café Anglais, which, I see, now has a visit-worthy website.
Touching to read Rowley got his inspiration for this dish from watching Rick Stein on TV; so much joy in one little weekend.

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restaurant Cafe Balear, Ciutadella de Menorca

Posted in overseas, restaurants, Summer, tagged , , , , , , , on June 20, 2008| 3 Comments »

Thunderclap followed by dramatic downpour started our first full day with a bang and skewered all tanning plans – but what on earth to do in a vacation-villa ghetto with no sunshine?  There’s this:
Rainy day on holiday
or the teeming toddlers’ activity club (no pics natch) but I’m not short enough, so once the clouds had shed their motherload we plodded north to Ciutadella. The 2km walk was slower but more interesting than taking a bus as we got to smell the landscape and discovered this domestic scene.Domestic pigs in Menorca
That’s daddy pig in the foreground (¡cuales cojones!), separated from his wife, girlfriend and countless scurrying offspring (those little shapes in the background) by a sturdy wall.  Everything in the compound had acquired a uniform ruddiness from the red earth in which they snuffle so they’re hard to spot (no pun intended).
Ciutadella Town Hall atop harbour wall
Like a corny movie, sunshine broke through as we arrived at Ciutadella harbour and the unmistakably Spanish scent of seafood and garlic a-sizzle in olive oil wafted on the breeze.   Strolling by a strip of restaurants nestling along the foot of the old city wall we noticed a number were recommended by our excellent guide book but didn’t fancy their uniform demeanour, nor sitting in the shade for that matter.Cafe Balear, Ciutadella, Menorca after our lunch
Just the other side of the bridge we spot Café Balear – set apart and empty.  None too promising, when all the other places are populated, but a seat in the sun and good reviews sits us down.  And then the real holiday begins: our waiter recites the appetizing menu del dìa; we pick cigale carpaccio and cod alioli for T; pimentos relleños and hake for me, and what a treat they turn out to be:
Carpaccio de cigalo at Cafe Balear, Ciutadella, Menorca
pimentos rellenos de bacalao at Cafe Balear, Ciutadella, Menorca
Cod with alioli at Cafe Balear, Ciutadella, Menorca
hake with potatoes and piquillos at Cafe Balear, Ciutadella, Menorca
I let these pictures speak for themselves, only adding that everything was spankingly fresh and flavoursome (pimentos obviously stuffed in-house) and the presentation perfect for my tastes – burnishing the alioli was an aesthetic nicety which I shall try at home. Ok, so I envied T his tasty extras: migas-stuffed tomato and a wee filo parcel of spinach with pine nuts and raisins but was happy with my hake and well satisfied.table on the terrace at Cafe Balear, Ciutadella harbour, Menorca
A bottle of crisp house white (Penedès again), perfectly chilled with ice bucket, stand and napkin allowed us to take our time; as we progressed through our meal the place filled up – to bursting – and we felt pretty smug to be watching people queue for a table.
People queuing for lunch at Cafe Balear
Don’t often do dessert but I’m never churlish if it’s included in the price, so ever authenticity-oriented I opted for almond cake over apple pie and T mentioned

you’ve had one crème caramel you’ve had them all

as his excuse for trying the same. Good choice, Canadian…
almond cake dessert at Cafe Balear

Service was laudably professional, efficient and friendly despite the fact the place was packed.  Highly recommended, but do arrive early or book ahead.

Menu del dìa: €17 pp  bottle house white: €10

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cafe-bar-restaurant Sa Nacra, Cala Santandria

Posted in overseas, restaurants, Summer, tagged , , , , , on June 19, 2008| 2 Comments »

Great view, not such great food

Sa Nacra restaurant/bar, Santandria cove, Menorca, looking west
So we fetched up at Sa Nacra, a waterside bar/restaurant in (or on) Cala Santandria on both our first and last days in Menorca.  I suspect we ordered the wrong things, but I got the idea the setting is so perfect nobody feels they have to pay much attention to the quality of the fare on offer.  Talking about the wrong thing to order…

hamburger, sausage, egg & chips at Sa Nacra, Menorca…bless his heart; to the left we have hamburger, sausage, egg and chips in time-honoured transport caff greasy spoon style. It’s a good thing Mr T dislikes ketchup as there was none; just a cruet of salt & pepper, oil & vinegar. The vinegar’s always good in Spanish territory, though.

Having awakened at 3 am to catch our Balearic-bound sardine torpedo, T found it satisfying, surprising, but not exactly exciting. And being Canadian he was kind of expecting a bun…

platter of local sausages and cheese, Sa Nacra, MenorcaEyes right for another kind of surprise: my platter of local sausages and cheese(“s”) – before a bite taken.  No garnish, nor much generosity there.  Ah well, at top right two niggardly slices of queso mahon, and reasonably fresca at that because it was ok but bland. Gnawing clockwise, next lies salchichon, pink and slightly garlicky – Spanish salami. Then the most interesting item, morcilla; black pudding (or blood sausage if you must) – thankfully European-style so it didn’t taste like blood-soaked fruitcake, but subtly spiced and savoury; probably bound with rice and featuring the odd fennel seed to lift any heaviness.  Last of all comes sobrassada; essentially the Balearic version of chorizo – no mistaking that tell-tale orange-hue of paprika pimentón.  Good, but not a gastronomic highlight either.

pa amb tomat, at Sa Nacra, Menorca

For us francophiles the lack of automatic bread was a bit of a quandary – in Menorca we discover its presence is unpredictable – so, keeping true to my mission to eat local, I ordered another island speciality: pa amb tomàquet.  It’s supposed to be country bread toasted over a flame, rubbed with tomato and garlic and doused in olive oil.  Which it was, after a fashion, but you can take the country out of bread just like you can take bread out of the country.  Remember dutch crispbakes?  Squish a tomato into one of those and then take the tomato away – voilà!  Certainly edible on 3 hours sleep when washed down with a bottle of cherry-red rosado de casa .  Penedès I think; in a cooler bucket without ice so we were compelled to drink it fast to drink it cool: a far from odious chore in all that sunshine…

…and for us just arrived from chilly grey England the view was sheer delight: water so clear you can see all the way to the bottom, fish idling below, seabirds wheeling above, all eager for overboard crumbs.  view from Sa Nacra towards Santandria
In my enthusiasm for peering into the depths I tipped the bench and almost launched myself overboard – crumbs!  Rather wish I had though, as Sa Nacra is well-appointed with ladder up and out plus open-air shower, but preferred are plunges from their diving board.

his: €7.25 mine: €4.50 bread: €1.50 wine: €10

 

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equal opps for crooked cucumbers

Posted in food politics, shopping, tagged on June 17, 2008| Leave a Comment »

knobbly vegetables at an open air market
Well hooray!!  News just in that the EU (about which I am generally positive so don’t start getting the wrong idea) in its wisdom is proposing to relax its rules governing the marketing of fruit and vegetables, so the less than ideally dimensioned may once more get a look in on the supermarket shelf.

In fact, the restrictive rules apply to produce being classified as Class One grade, i.e. perfectly uniform, which is what the major supermarkets insist on having.  Farm shops, markets and discount supermarkets, plus the “cheapo” and “for cooks” ranges at the majors already sell the so-called second rate stuff so it’s hardly a revolution in the making.

As far as I can tell it’s just about size and appearance and not actual eating quality.  So while they’re thinking about change could they please think about implementing ripeness standards (or realistic potential for ripeness standards)?  These are every bit as important when it comes to fruit quality.  How many punnets-worth (hmm – why are they so often BOGOFs, I wonder) of rock-hard peaches (stone fruit indeed) and tomatoes rotted on me before I realised the wretched things would never ripen?  Too many, so now I don’t buy them unless I can smell their fragrance.

Strangely enough, Agriculture Commissioner Mariann Fischer Boel is facing substantial opposition from member states, so don’t hold your breath.

Minimum “standards” will be retained for the following:

  • apples
  • citrus fruit
  • kiwi fruit
  • lettuces and endives
  • peaches
  • pears
  • strawberries
  • sweet peppers
  • table grapes
  • tomatoes

With aviation costs soaring our fruit may be in for a bright future: maybe, just maybe, produce that doesn’t thrive locally will be shipped instead of flown in.  The chill of an airfreight hold destroys enzymes, killing off all potential for ripening.  Now I’m no chemist but I can taste and smell the difference.

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