My Mac has recovered, so its back to France for a few posts.

When we visited the food market at Forcalquier, as mentioned in this post, the missus spotted some courgette flowers for sale. We both remembered seeing Jamie Oliver deep frying some ricotta stuffed flowers on one of his shows, and despite not having a cookbook or any access to the interwebs, we decided to gave it a go.

Without blowing my own trumpet, the results were great, and to be honest it was easier that I thought it would be. The following recipe serves 6 as a small starter (2 flowers each), and although I didn’t at the time (because my father ain’t fan of the spice) I’ve added some red chilli. Not very French, but there you go.

Ingredients

12 large courgette flowers

For the stuffing

250g Ricotta

50g Parmesan, grated

1 tablespoon finely chopped basil

1 tablespoon finely chopped mint

Zest of 1 lemon

1 red chilli, seeds removed, finely chopped

Salt & pepper to taste

For the batter

1 cup 250g self raising flower

1 cup of cold lager

Pinch of salt

Groundnut / rapeseed / vegetable oil for deep frying

Lemon wedges and salad leaves to serve

Method

The first thing to do is make the batter. Sift the flour into a bowl, and then add the beer and salt. The batter should be thick enough to coat your finger, but not stodgy. Now set it aside whilst you prepare the flowers. Resting the batter for this time will help make it crisp.

Now make the stuffing, which is easy enough. Just get all the ingredients listed above and mix them together. Have a taste, and then add salt and pepper if required. Now the hard-ish bit, getting the stuffing into the flowers.

The easiest way to do it is to spoon the mixture into a sandwich bag, and nip off the tip of one of the corners to make a piping bag. The fresher the flowers, the more open they’ll be, and the easier they are to fill. To fill, pick up a flower, and poke the business end of piping bag into the open end of the flower. Squeeze slowly but firmly, gently filling up the flower. The flowers will expand as you stuff them, but be careful not to overfill them or they will split. It’s not a disaster if they do, but better if they don’t. When they are almost full to the top, stop filling and then twist the top of the flower closed.

Now get a heavy bottomed pan of oil on the heat. You’re going to be deep frying the flowers, so the oil needs to be four or more inches deep. After around 5 minutes, test the temperature by dropping in a small piece of bread. If it sizzles and turns brown quickly you’re good to go. To cook, hold each flower by the stalk and dip into the batter. Let it drip off for a second or two, and they ‘lay’ into the oil away from you to prevent splashing. Cook two flowers at a time. Gently turn them in the pan with a slotted spoon. When they are golden brown, after 40 seconds or so, remove from the pan and place in a bowl with kitchen paper to absorb any excess oil.

Repeat the process, cooking the rest of flowers as quickly as you can. As soon as they’re all done, plate up with a few dressed salad leaves and a lemon wedge.

Sorry for the radio silence, my Mac has given up the ghost and has had to go in for repairs, so I’m having to write this from work (don’t tell the boss).

So France was awesome as expected. We were staying in Provence at a place my folks had rented with the rest of my familly, about an hour north of Marseille, near a town called Fourcalquier. I’m sure this is going to come over like I’m a smug ponce, but it really is a lovely part of the world. The landscape is amazing. Rolling fields of poppies, lavender and crops, the climate is awesome, and you really notice how quiet it is compared to London.

Aside from spending time with my familly, eating, drinking and doing a bit of cooking, the two highlights for me were going to Forcalquier market and hanging out in a little village called Banon.

Forcalquier marché happens every Monday morning and is a peculiar mixture of food, clothing and a whole lot of baskets. The produce on display was a food lovers dream. Amazing meat, bread, cheese, tarts, and other goodies like salami, garlic, olive oil, fruit and veg, all produced in the local area.

The farmers and stall holders are obviously really proud of their produce, encouraging you to try their wares at every turn. They are also refreshingly un-prissy about how they handle their food. They poke, prod and handle it. Not in an aggressive way, but like they are connected to and care about it. None of the rubber glove wearing supermarket staff who look scared to handle a chicken breast like you get over here.

We dropped ALOT of cash, but it was well worth it.

Banon also had a market; it wasn’t really in the same league as Fourcalquier’s, but it was a lovely place. Kind of how you imagine a little French village to be. Nice bar on the square, people pootling around, a good boulangerie and an amazing boucherie where the picture of the ’salami curtain’ was taken. A great place to hang out, relax and watch the World go by.

I’ll get some more France related stuff up soon when my Mac gets fixed. Don’t hold your breath.

Image by Michael Fenichel

Hand To Mouth is very happy to say that it’s off to to the South of France for a week.

I will be mostly hanging out in Provence, drinking wine, eating bread and cheese, and checking out a food market or two.

See you en l’autre side.

À bientôt

One of the other dishes I was thinking about for the previous post was this omelette for two. I thought it could work quite well in that it combines seaside ingredients with the romantic nature of Lou and Liam’s retreat. However, fish for brekkie isn’t to everyone’s tastes, so this is the kind of dish you can enjoy at any time of the day.

There’s only one mackerel fillet in the mix so the flavour isn’t too strong, and  I use a bit of zero fat Greek yoghurt in the eggs to help keep the omelette moist in the middle. The little bit of  sharpness the yoghurt gives also works well with the oily fish.

Ingredients

4 large free range eggs

2 tablespoons 0% fat Greek yoghurt

1 mackerel fillet (around 70g)

1/2 medium onion, chopped

2 tablespoons chopped chives

2 tablespoons chopped flat leaf parsley

Handful of grated Parmesan

Salt and pepper to taste

Olive oil and butter for frying.

Method

First up, get your grill on full and then put a frying pan on the heat. When it’s really good and hot, pop in your mackerel. Fry it for about a minute or so on each side. This gets some of the oil out of the fish, but also brings out it’s flavour and makes it easy to flake. I also like the tasty brown caremelised crust it makes on the outside.

When done, set aside the mackerel, wipe down the pan with some kitchen paper to get rid of the excess fish oil. Then turn down the heat, add a little olive oil and then gently fry off the onion. You want it translucent as opposed to brown, and when it is, set aside with the mackerel.

Next crack your eggs into a bowl, season with a small pinch of salt, and a good few grindings of black pepper. Mix in the yoghurt to the eggs, and whisk thoroughly getting rid of the lumps. Now add the Parmesan, onion, chopped chives and parsley to the eggs. Flake the mackerel fillet in too, and then mix together.

Get 20 cm diameter  frying pan on the heat (a different one to the one you fried your fish in preferably). When it’s nice and hot, add a nob of butter, coat the inside of the pan and then add the egg mixture. Leave for a minute or so, and then go around the outside of the pan with a spatula to make sure it’s not sticking.

You want the base of the omelette to be golden brown before transferring to the oven to brown the top, keep checking by turning up the edge with the spatula. When ready, slide into the oven.

As the top of the omelette is cooking, it will puff up as it browns. This will happen at the edges first, and then work it’s way into the centre of the pan. You want the omelette to be moist, so pretty much as soon at the centre is brown, whip it out of the oven and turn it out onto a plate.

Serve with a peppery salad of rocket, chard and thinly sliced radishes with a lemon, dijon mustard and olive oil dressing.

Give it a try.

As mentioned in the previous post, my friends who run a lovely boutique B&B in Margate have asked me to contribute a dish for their breakfast menu, and this is it.

Lou and Liam opened the doors of The Reading Rooms last year after restoring the amazing grade II Georgian Town House where it’s situated and appearing on Ruth Watson’s Hotel Rescue on Channel 4. It’s a really relaxing and luxurious place. Insanely comfortable beds, stylish decor, beautiful bathrooms and they cook a mean breakfast too. And that’s where I come in.

As well as the full English and pastries on the menu, they’re going to offer this alternative to a warming winter porridge. The oats absorb most of the liquid, becoming lovely and plump, and the apple juice’s natural sugar means no need to add anything extra, unless you’ve got a sweet tooth. I like to serve it with chopped summer berries.

Ingredients (serves 2 / 3)

120g jumbo porridge oats

250ml apple juice

250g low fat natural yoghurt

2 apples, peeled and grated (I like granny smiths, but anything juicy with a bit of tang is good)

Seasonal fruit and honey to serve

Method

Mix together the oats, apple juice and yoghurt together in a bowl or Tupperware container with a lid. Next peel the apples, coarsely grate them and add to the oats. Mix well in, making sure as much of the the grated apple as possible is below the surface of the mixture , this will stop it from going brown. And thats kind of it. Super easy.

As you’ll see, the mixture is pretty loose at this stage, but this will change. Put a lid on your Tupperware or cover your bowl with cling film, and then pop in the fridge for a good few hours or preferably over night. In the morning, the oats will have absorbed a lot of the liquid and puffed up making a much thicker consistency.

Divide the the mixture accross two bowls, and the serve with chopped seasonal fruit, and if required a bit of honey to sweeten.

Healthy, delicious and best eaten overlooking Hawley Square towards the sea.

As I may or may not have mentioned before, my other half’s family are a real mixed bag in terms of nationalities. Chinese, Indian, and South African to name but three. A veritable melting pot compared to my comparatively mundane ancestry.

As a result, my future mother in law, Connie, seems to be able to cook anything. From insane curries and whole fried Chinese fish, to cream horns and South African doughnuts. And the speed she does it at is mind blowing. Turn your back for 10 seconds and when you look back there’s a plate of food in front of you. Brilliant.

This recipe is for her quick lamb curry that I tried whilst over in Oz and she kindly wrote the recipe down for me. It’s very tasty, and also very easy. If you can get your lamb on the bone, so much the better as it’ll give your curry more flavour.

Ingredients

750g stewing lamb, diced

1 large onion, chopped

4 cloves garlic, pounded

1 thumb sized piece of ginger, pounded

1/4 teaspoon tumeric

1 teaspoon ground coriander

1/2 teaspoon cumin

1/2 teaspoon chilli powder

1 teaspoon garam masala

1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds

1 cinnamon stick

1 chilli, chopped

1/2 can tomatoes

1 can green lentils, drained

1 tablespoon chopped coriander

1 pinch of sugar

Salt to taste

Method

Get a thick bottomed pan on the heat and add a good couple of glugs of vegetable, rape seed or groundnut oil. When it’s good and hot, pop in all the dried spices and fry them off to release the aromatics. After a minute or so, add the chopped onion and fry off.

Whilst this is going on, roughly chop the onion and ginger, and pound in a pestle and mortar with a little salt until pasted. Add this to the onions and continue to fry. Next, chop the chilli and add it to the mix seeds and all, along with the cinnamon stick and curry leaves. Give a good stir and continue to fry.

Now wash the lamb in cold water, drain and then add to the pot. Lightly fry the outside of the meat, and when light brown add the half can of tomatoes, a pinch of sugar and the chopped coriander. Don’t worry about the curry going dry, the ingredients will give off enough moisture to keep the curry moist. Now stick a lid on it and simmer gently until the lamb is falling off the bone and tender, which should be around 45 minutes.

Take off the lid, add the drained green lentils to the curry, and bring up to the boil. And that’s pretty much it. Serve the curry with boiled Basmati rice and a simple raita made with yoghurt, cucumber, fresh mint and coriander.

Let’s just hope I did the recipe justice.

Been crazy busy since we got back from Oz, so have got a bit behind on the writing stuff. But back to the land down under for a quick coffee related post.

As mentioned previously, there’s been a bit of an Australian coffee shop invasion in London over the past year or so. Places like  Lantana, Flat White, Milk Bar and Kaffeine have their own style and atmosphere, but all have one thing in common. Great coffee. As I understand it, ‘coffee culture’ hit Australia and New Zealand about the same sort of time as it did in the UK in the early 90s, but interestingly instead of succumbing to the big brands pumping out the brown liquid passing itself off as coffee sold the length and breadth of our high streets, our Antipodean cousins adopted a more artisan based approach. In fact, such is their devotion and knowledge of good coffee that even the mighty tentacles of Starbucks have failed to gain a foothold in Australia. As my friend Mutber put it, “…you can’t sell a bad product to an educated audience.”

Melbourne is probably better known for starting this Australian coffee revolution, but Campos in Newtown has been leading the charge in Sydney since 2002. Like Harry’s in the previous post, it’s a pretty unassuming looking place on a side street off the busy Kings Street, but once you’re inside you know you’re in a temple to coffee. When we visited, it was packed with people queuing diligently for their daily dose. There were around 5 baristas behind the bar, and interestingly that’s exactly what Campos feels like. A bar. There’s a real buzz about the place. It’s loud, full of people catching up with friends, standing, sitting, hanging out, chatting with the staff, reading the papers, and so on.

We ordered flat whites, which is apparently a bit of a cliche these days. I’m sure the real connoisseurs only drink espressos, and I’m sure they also let you know all about it too. Anyway, each to their own. When our coffees arrived, not only did they look beautiful with the trademark flat white foam ‘art’ but they tasted amazing too. Really rich and creamy, but also smooth. It sounds odd, but you know you’re actually drinking a cup of coffee. I guess my pallet has become too accustomed to coffee flavoured hot milk. You also get much less in a cup than you do at most places in the UK. Probably a good thing as a Campo’s coffee packs a pretty heavy caffeinated punch.

Sufficiently impressed, we wanted to take a bit of Campos home with us so went back later that day to get some ground coffee to smuggle back. We opted for the Obama Blend, which like the man himself is a mix of African and American, and promises a cup with, “Great depth of character”. We’ve not sampled it yet, but it ounds like the kind of change all coffee lovers can believe in.

Just about recovered from my trip down under, so lets talk crabs, specifically Singaporean style critters.

Harry’s Singapore Chilli Crab is a bit of a Sydney institution that the Missus and her family have been going to for years, and they very kindly introduced me to whilst we were over there.

It’s an unassuming place above a slightly grotty looking pub in the Surrey Hills area of the city, but that doesn’t seem to stop people coming in their droves. Opened in 1982 by the eponymous Harry (Lau), the place doesn’t feel like it’s changed much since, and from what understand the menu hasn’t either. And whilst there is plenty on offer to eat, it all feels like a bit of a formality, as the main event is definitely the chilli crab that gives the restaurant it’s name.

After ordering, you are invited to go up and chose your victims from a selection of healthy looking Queensland mud crabs at the front of the restaurant. They are big, muscular beasts, and it almost felt a bit daunting plucking them out of their bucket to await their fate. But we soldiered and kept the wolf from the door by having a couple of portions of salt and pepper squid whilst we waited for the stars of the show. The squid was super fresh, tasty, not at all chewy and served with a poky chilli soy sauce. A fitting start for what was to come.

Then the crabs arrived. Ay carrumba. Already partially dismembered and laid out on large platters, they came smothered in a deep red rust coloured chilli sauce, and served with Chinese greens, rice and delicious roti bread. Like the squid, the crab was very fresh. The meat sweet and clean tasting, and surprisingly not overpowered by the sauce. And what a sauce. Amazing. It had this really deep and intense flavour, and was flecked with what was either crab meat or egg. We quizzed our waiter on the ingredients, but he would only give us the obvious onion, garlic, ginger and chili. The rest, he told us, was a secret. I can’t blame him, the stuff is like liquid gold.

The charismatic Harry himself made an appearance during the meal to see if we were enjoying his signature dish, as did several large bowls of water to rinse ourselves down with. Both the bowls and complimentary aprons are testament to the fact that this is not refined and polite dining, and that was one of the great things about the meal. It was a very communal experience. You really have to get in there and get dirty, and was all the more enjoyable for it.

Had we been stranded in Sydney due to Eyjafjallajokull’s eruptions, I would certainly made a strong case for a return visit to Harry’s, but I guess I’ll just have to wait until the next time we’re in the area.

Just got back from a whistlestop trip to Oz to meet the future in-laws. Sydney is definitely a town that loves to eat, and we munched our way through the city from North to South, East to West.

Highlights included discovering toasted banana bread (where have you been all my life), fish and chips on the beach in Balmoral, some fine Roka style Japanese nosh at Toko, a dirty pie at Harry’s Cafe De Wheels, amazing Lebanese at Emma’s On Liberty in New Town, a cracking roast chicken sandwich from Chargrill Charlies, great coffee from Campos, and a couple of delicious breakfasts at Pure Bronte Pistachio on Bronte Beach. A very fine way to start the day.

But probably the best meals we had were at a cute little Italian place called A Tavola in Darlinghurst. A seriously good veal ragu pasta and a nice bottle of Sicilian red. I could eat it again now. And feasting on the famous chilli crab at Harry’s Singapore Chilli Crab. Insanely good.

Oh, and I also picked up some great recipes from my future mother in law, Connie.

I’ll be reporting back on my findings in more detail once I’ve recovered from the jetlag.

Until then…

Photo: Neets & Dre

Hand To Mouth is off to Australia for a couple of weeks to meet and greet the future outlaws and extended family.

As well as (hopefully) lapping up a bit of much needed sunshine, I’ll be getting my teeth into Sydney’s cafe culture, fresh seafood, and if I get my way, a few meat pies from Harry’s Cafe de Wheels.

Have a cracking Easter.

It’s been around for a while, but I first read about Jim Lahey’s ‘no knead bread‘ in a Saveur magazine when I was in New York last year. I’d already got the bread baking bug, and the idea of a loaf that required no kneading seemed a bit odd, even a bit sacrilegious. I did a bit of research on line, and found out that everyone raves about the loaf, and it basically put Lahey’s Sullivan Street Bakery on the map.

Anyway, it definitely got me interested. How could a loaf requiring so little work be so good? Life just isn’t like that. So I gave it a go. The loaf is cooked in a cast iron pot, a bit like an Australian damper, so you’ll need a Le Creuset or something similar for it to work.

Ingredients

3 cups (430g) flour
1½ cups (345g or 12oz) water
¼ teaspoon (1g) yeast
1¼ teaspoon (8g) salt
Olive oil
Rye flour (for dusting)

Method

Mix all of the dry ingredients in a bowl and mix together for a minute or so to form a ’shaggy’ dough. Transfer the dough to a larger bowl oiled with some olive oil. NB. the dough will expand to around 4 times the size, so make sure your bowl is big enough. Cover with clingfilm and let the dough develop for 12-18 hours at room temperature.

After this time the dough will be aerated. Remove it from the bowl and fold on itself once or twice. The dough is stickier than with regular bread, a bit like when making a sourdough, so be prepared to get a bit messy. Using dough scrapers is a good idea. Let the dough rest 15 minutes in the bowl or on the work surface, then try and shape into a ball. Generously coat a tea towel with rye flour, place the dough on the left hand side, scatter the dough with more flour, and then fold the towel over the top to cover it. Let rise for around 2 hours at room temperature, until more than doubled in size.

Preheat your oven to 230°C. Place a cast iron pot in it at least 30 minutes prior to baking to preheat. Once the dough has more than doubled in volume, remove the pot from the oven and put the dough in it. Shake from side to side so it fills the base. Cover with the lid and bake for 30 minutes, then remove the lid and bake for another 20 minutes or so uncovered, until the loaf is nicely browned. Take the loaf out and place on a wire rack to cool. I know this is going to sound a bit sad, but the loaf’s crust crackles as it cools, which is pretty exciting.

When you cut into the loaf, you won’t be disappointed. The crust is crisp, crunchy and satisfying, and the dough inside a cross between really good French bread and a Ciabatta. Honestly, its great. And for so little work. There is such a thing as a free lunch.

Two final notes. I cooked mine in an oval 27 cm pot, but think it would have worked better in the round 24 cm version. Secondly, I tried this recipe again at the weekend substituting the strong white flour with a ‘Farine Bise‘ that I bought in Paris, but it was much less successful. The crust was less impressive, and the dough much heavier. I guess it rises better with the plain white.

UPDATE: Tried the loaf again at the weekend in a smaller pot, with great results. Check out photos on my Flickr page here.

As mentioned in the previous post, I was down in Cornwall for Christmas. My mum always puts on a great spread while we’re down there, but with seven mouths to feed she has her work cut out, and seems to spend too much time in the kitchen. That being the case, for the last few years I’ve given her the night off and cooked a meal for the family.

This year I cooked a slow cooked shoulder of lamb with Cornish style boulangère potatoes and spring greens. The lamb is cooked in a tangy herb, lemon and anchovy marinade (I have to leave out the garlic as my dad can’t stand it, but have included it in this recipe), and the classicly French boulangère are given a South West twist with the adition of Cornish cruncher cheddar cheese.

Ingredients

For the lamb:

2.5 kilo shoulder of lamb

2 lemons (juice and zest)

10 -15 tinned anchovy fillets

Bunch of rosemary

5 large cloves of garlic

Olive oil

Freshly ground black pepper

For the potatoes:

1.5 kilos of potatoes

2 onions

200g Cornish cruncher or other mature cheddar

Fresh ground black pepper

200ml vegetable stock

100ml milk

Chopped rosmary

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Butter

For the greens:

5 heads of spring greens

Butter

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Method

First of all, get your oven as hot as it will go, then prepare the marinade for the lamb. Finely chop the garlic, rosmary and anchovy fillets, zest and juice the two lemons, add a good couple of glugs of olive oil, then season with black pepper and mix well. Next, score the lamb all over on the upper side in a diamond formation about 1/2 a centimeter deep, and place in a roasting tray resting on slices of the zested and juiced lemons. Then spoon over the marinade, making sure you work it into the slashes on the shoulder.

When the oven is good an hot, slam in the lamb. You’re going to cook it fiercely for around 30 minutes to form a kind of marinated crust on the skin, and they you’re going to turn the oven down to around 180°C and cover the roasting tray tightly with tin foil and cook for a further 3 hours.

Now prepare the potatoes. Peel then slice the spuds as thinly as you can. I used a mandolin, but if you don’t have one, try to get them about a 3mm thick. When you’ve done this, plunge them into cold water and rinse to get some of the starch out, then turn  out onto a tea towel, and pat dry with another.

Next chop and slice the two onions, and fry them until they are golden brown. This will make the finished dish sweeted and richer. Now butter a large baking dish and start putting it all together. Start with a couple of layers of potatoes, then scatter over some of the onion, cheese and rosemary. Season with salt and pepper and then repeat until you are out of potatoes. Make sure you have some cheese and rosemary left over, but don’t scatter it over the top yet. Mix the stock and milk together, and pour over the top. The liquid should come around 3/4 of the way up the dish. Next cover the potatoes with a sheet of grease proof paper.

When the lamb has about an hour and a half to go, put in the potatoes and cook for an hour with the paper on, then remove from the oven. Take off the paper, scatter the remaining cheese and rosemary on top, season generously with black pepper then and put back into the oven for the last half hour until bubbling and golden brown.

Prepare the greens by slicing into fat strips and discarding the fat ends of the stalk. Boil in salted water until tender, drain, add a good nob of butter and season with salt and pepper.

Serve with the lamb and potatoes. Praaaper jaaaab.

I had the good fortune to be in Cornwall for Christmas, and then Paris for New Years. Good food was eaten accross the festive period, more on this in subsequent posts, but first of all something for the bread geeks out there.

Whilst in Paris I made a pilgrimage to Poilâne. It may not be a familiar name, but if you love good bread it should be. It’s a bakery in Saint-Germain, and makes the most insanely tasty ‘miche’ or traditional French sourdough loaves. Set up by Pierre Poilâne, a young baker from Normandy in 1932, the shop has been knocking out these beautiful large round loaves ever since to Parisians hungry for something a bit more interesting than the regular baguette.

The bread gets it’s darker colour and deeper flavour from stone milled ‘grey’ flour, also known as T80 or ‘farine bise’. The only other ingredients are sea salt, water and sourdough starter that is derived from batches of bread prepared all those years ago. The loaves are shaped by hand, and then cooked in a wood fired oven.

The bakery is still in the family, run by Pierre’s granddaughter, the rather marvelously named Apollonia Poilâne. They now have a second store in Paris, and have more recently opened one in London. As well as half a loaf, I bought some flour from the shop in an attempt to re-create a Poilâne miche at home. Thus far my sourdough attempts have been less than successful, but hopefully a bit of French inspiration will help lift them. You can find out more abut Poilâne and the locations on their website here, and I’ll update you on my baking succeses / failures as they happen

I was first taken to Mangal 1 6 or so years ago by my friends Lou and Liam who lived down the road in Hackney at the time, and I’ve been going back ever since. Back then it had a real impact on me because I’d never really been anywhere like it in the UK before. It’s completely unpretentious, a bit ramshackle, and when you step through the door you feel like you’re in a different country.

You immediately get hit by the heat and smell of grilling meat from the massive open barbecue style grill that is slap bang in the middle of the restaurant. And that’s what the Turkish ocakbasi restaurants are all about. Meat and fire. The menu is dominated by kebabs, mostly lamb and chicken, although you can also get quail and offal too. I suggest you go with a few friends, because you’re going to want to try everything, but I can heartily recommend the following.

For starters I’d go for the cacik which is like the Greek tzatziki, but here it’s really thick and creamy, and made all the more tasty by a good punch of garlic. They serve it up with warm ’sac bread’ which is a bit like a focaccia, but thinner and without the olive oil. You should also try the Lahmacun, or Turkish pizza. It’s topped with minced lamb, onions and peppers and will leave you wanting more.

For main, you should try the Beyti. A bit like a minced lamb kofte, but with more garlic, some extra spice, red pepper and parsley. The fat from the mince gets almost caramalised on the grill, and is packed with flavour. The Cop Sis is also very good. Small cubes of marinated lamb grilled to perfection and so tender. The Tavuk Sis is the same, but with chicken breast, and equally good. If you’re still hungry, get a portion of the Pirzola lamb chops. Again marinated and cooked to perfection, and tasty as hell (my mouth is literally watering as I write this). All the main dishes are served with a salad packed with fresh, crispy veg, dressed with lemon juice, a bit of oil and sprinkled with sumak. A great accompaniment to the smokey meats.

It may not be much to look at, but the long and short of it is that Mangal is amazing, and also incedibly good value for money. They don’t serve booze, but you can bring your own. There’s a sister restaurant, imaginatively called Mangal 2, just round the corner where artists Gilbert & George have dinner every night. Thats right, every night. Now, if that isn’t a ringing endorsement, I don’t know what is.

They were made on dough base that was smeared with tomato puree, then topped with a triangle of Dairylea style processed cheese, and an egg. They were then baked in a bread oven until the egg was cooked all the way through. Like the hostel, the pizzas were pretty basic, but I remember them being very tasty, and after we’d been there a couple of times, the guy let us make our own and put them in the oven.

This breakfast pizza is a more sophisticated version of the above, and uses some of the same basic ingredients as the pizza recipe featured in this earlier post.

Ingredients (per pizza)

Around 200g pizza dough

Tomato sauce

2 cherry tomatoes, thinly sliced

Teleggio cheese

prosciutto ham or cooked bacon

An egg

Salt and pepper

Method

First of all, turn your oven on to as high as it will go, and then roll out the pizza base into a roughly circular shape and create a crust by turning up the edges. This needs to be high enough to contain the raw egg once you’ve cracked it on top. I make and cook mine in the small frying pan pictured which has a 20cm diameter. This not only helps maintain the right shape and edge, but I also start the cooking process off on the hob before putting the pizza in the oven.

Leave the base for 15 minutes to prove a bit, and then spread on the tomato sauce. Add the thinly sliced tomato, and tear over the taleggio. The taleggio may smell quite strong, but it has a pretty mild flavour, and goes beautifully creamy when melted. Chop up the ham or cooked bacon and place on top, crack a raw egg on the centre of the pizza, and then season with a few grinds of pepper and a small pinch of salt.

Next, put the frying pan on the hob and turn on the gas. This gets the base going in the absence of a pizza stone. Leave on the heat for a minute or so, and then put the pizza in the oven. The pizza should be cooked in around 6 minutes or so. It’s ready when the egg white is cooked through, but the yoke is still soft.

Take out of the oven and eat immediately, either on it’s own or with a bit of rocket. Seriously tasty, and a bit different.

Back to New York, if only briefly, for a quick bit about what might be my favourite place to eat breakfast in the World. Serious claim I know, but Williamsburgh’s Egg is amazing. So amazing in fact that the New York visit prior to this one I think we had breakfast there 3 times out of the 5 days we were there. We only managed twice this time, but if I lived in the neighborhood I’d have to stop myself eating here every bloody day of the week.

Egg is a really unassuming place tucked on a little side road off Bedford Avenue in Williamsburgh. It’s light years away from the city’s brash diners (that I also love) and has a really relaxed almost ‘hippyish’ atmosphere. The owners have their own little farm on the outskirts of New York state, which supplies as much produce to the restaurant as possible. I’m not 100% sure how long it’s been open, but probably around 2 years. It’s open all day, serving breakfast / brunch until the evening when the menu becomes a bit more substantial. I’ve not eaten there in the evening, but I’ve heard it’s good.

My absolute favourite thing on the menu is a dish called ‘Eggs Rothko’. I’m not sure if it’s named after Mark Rothko, but it’s a whole lot tastier than his paintings (IMHO). At the heart of the dish is a kind of remix of eggy bread. A thick slice of toasted brioche with a hole cut in the middle is popped in a frying pan, and then an egg is fried in the hole. They then top the bread with a grated, tangy mature cheddar and slide it under a grill until the cheese bubbles. I know it sounds pretty insane, but when you slice open the bread and the yoke of the egg oozes out, you know you’re in the presence of breakfast greatness.

They serve it with your choice of meat or seasonal greens. I always opt for the sausage, which is a little different to the sausages you get with a fry up in the UK. They are basically little sausage meat patties which are flavoured with chili and fennel. Spicy and seriously tasty, and they work really well with the eggy bread.

I wish I was there now.

Going to Peter Luger’s pretty much as soon as I get off the plane in in NY has become a bit of a tradition. The routine goes. Land in NY. Head to Williamburgh. Dump bags at my mate Matt’s place. Head to Luger’s with him. Eat large quantities of meat. Drink a couple of beers. Sleep. Come round smiling the next day.

Peter Luger has been rated New York’s number one steakhouse for twenty four years in a row. For a town that prides itself on good food, that’s a serious accolade. They have two outlets, one in Williamburgh and one in Long Island, but it’s no chain; it’s an institution.

When I went a few years ago, former New York City mayor Rudy Guilliani walked in with some dolly bird and got a standing ovation from the whole restaurant, and that sets the scene pretty well. It’s a place for ’stand up guys’. A no nonsense temple to meat, styled a bit like a Bavarian beer hall, and staffed by old timers who have clearly been working there for years.

The menu is short, and not surprisingly, meat focused. To start with, we ordered an extra thick slice of Luger’s bacon and a tomato and onion salad, followed by the porterhouse steak, German fried potatoes and spinach.

The bacon is really satisfying. About the thickness of four standard rashers, sweet and smokey. The perfect accompaniment to the salad, especially when drizzled liberally with Luger’s own sweet, tangy and mildly spicy steak sauce.

The main event is the steak. The cut they specialise in is the porterhouse, or short loin. Served on the bone, it’s charred and crispy on the outside, and sweet and moist on the inside. The meat has great flavour, and is as tender as something very tender indeed. They serve it of a red hot plate, cut into strips, with melted butter to baste the meat with to keep it moist. It’s making my mouth water just thinking about it.

It’s not cheap, but its worth it. The portions are generous, and anything you don’t eat, you can take home in a doggy bag. If you’re planning a visit, I’d advise booking a table, and remember that they only accept cash, although there is an ATM outside.

The only downsides to Luger’s is that I only get to eat there once a year. But I guess that’s one of the other things that makes it special.

To cut a long story short, there’s a guy called Doug who makes the most amazing speciality hot dogs that come in a bewildering and surprising array of flavours. And when I say bewildering, I mean it. Pork, duck, lamb, beef, weisswurst, bratwurst, veal, rattlesnake, vegetarian…I could go on. Doug’s place is pretty much in the middle of nowhere, so if you’re an un-escorted newbie, you can pretty much forget about finding it (we were lucky enough to have a couple of willing guides). But, despite the location, the place is RAMMED every day. It’s open between 11am and 4pm, and there’s a queue pretty much from opening to closing.

Photo: MSN

When we got there at about a quarter to twelve, there were already a lot of people waiting. It took us about an hour to make it through the doors  and get a look at the wall mounted menu and specials, but when we did I nearly exploded with excitement. After much debate, my girlfriend and I decided to get 4 to share between us. We went for a duck and fois gras, a merguez and goats cheese, veal and pork weisswurst, and a classic Chicago dog (all pictured).

First up the duck. Now I was fully expecting this to be a gimmick, but I could’nt have been further from the mark. You could taste everything. The duck and fois gras in the sausage, the fois gras mousse on top, and the insane truffle and garlic mayo. Every bite was ridiculous. Too sickly to nail another, but amazing.

Next up the weisswurst. Again a taste sensation. The tangy apple and pork meat in the sausage was well seasoned and wrapped in this creamy mustard and parsley sauce. Then a nice bit of tangy, peppery horseradish cheese finished it off with style.

The traditional Chicago dog was probably the least impressive of the four, but still damn tasty. Your classic frank dog accompanied with fried onions, mustard, tomato, a slab of pickle and a kind of atomic green relish. When in Rome and all that.

Finally the merguez. One of my favourite sausages of all time. This baby came served up with a kind of smokey chipotle sauce that was a cross between a mayo and a gravy , and was topped with this amazingly fluffy and light goats cheese. Again you could taste all the flavours, and the cheese cooled down the chili kick of the sausage and sauce. Phenomenal.

It’s not hard to see why people get evangelical about Hot Doug’s. It’s one of those proper institutions that specialise in one thing, and nails it time after time. It’s also fun and completely unpretentious. In the UK a place like Doug’s would probably fall out of favour as soon as it ceased to be fashionable, which is a great shame as I feel England’s restaurant scene would be a lot richer if there were more of the local neighborhood heroes of the kind I’ve written about in the past few posts.

I’ve always liked the idea of starting a local sausage restaurant, maybe there’s a gap in the market?

Photo by Buzz100Ca

If you’re going on a road trip down the pacific coast through the Big Sur, there’s one place that everyone tells you to go, and that’s Nepenthe. In his 1962 book ‘Big Sur’, Jack Kerouac, describes the restaurant thus, “From the baths we go to Nepenthe which is a beautiful cliff top restaurant with a vast outdoor patio, with excellent food, excellent waiters and management, good drinks, chess tables, chairs and tables to just sit in the sun an look at the grand cost…”

Whilst Kerouac’s description is less than effusive, it is pretty much spot on; so allow me to add a few superlatives. The location is amazing, the view of the pacific ocean fantastic, and the food bloody tasty. We both ate the trademark Ambrosia burger, which as the name suggests (in the work of Homer, Ambrosia is the food of the gods), was pretty heavenly. The meat was clearly good quality, the bun toasted and beautifully soft, but what really set it off was the sauce – a kind of tomato, chili mayonaise. Served with a huge side of fries and a light slaw, it was a great lunch. But with a view like that, you can’t go that far wrong.

Photo by Meatmeister

It’s pretty rare that a restaurant lives up to the hype, but Nepenthe does, and not much seems to have changed since Kerouac wrote his description. It’s a simple formula, but one that works, and the owners have stuck to it.

You can get the recipe for the Ambrosia burger here, but I’m not sure it would taste quite so good without that view.

As mentioned in the last post, I’ve just returned from a holiday in the States. From a food perspective, one of the things that I noticed about a lot of the stuff we tasted in California was the Mexican influence. Plenty of lime, avocado, coriander, chilli and corn. Fresh, tasty flavours.

We also ate quite a bit of of straight up Mexican food. Great Burritos in the Mission in San Francisco, Huevos Rancheros for breakfast, torta Mexicanas in LA, but the pick of the bunch was a a tiny little place called La Super-Rica in Santa Barbra.

Reputedly Julia Child’s favourite Mexican restaurant and tucked away in the Mexican area of town, La Super-Rica is basically a little shack with a tent attached to the back. Always busy, the tiny kitchen knocks out fantastic traditional Mexican street food. There are daily specials, firm favourites and apparently the best horchata you’ll taste outside of Mexico.

We tried the daily special, a vegetarian tamale, which came served in the corn husk it had been steamed in with a side of pork and beans. The corn meal was really tasty and kind of creamy, enriched with a bit of cheese and with vegetables through it. We also had a portion of the most delicious buttery guacamole, and a couple of servings of chorizo tacos. Amazing.

It was also a really charming place. No frills and not in any way poncy, it’s location also means that you have to make a real effort to get there, so people really go for the food. And there was a proper cross section of them. From the WASPy Santa Barbra set to students, Mexican locals and hipsters. I’d go back at the drop of a hat.

Super-Rica? As Omar Little would say, indeed.

Anyway, breakfast fast became our favourite meal of the day, and right here are out top four breakfasts from the trip.

Huevos Rancheros – literally ‘eggs ranch style’. Mexican style eggs (in this case scrambled with ham) served up on flour tortillas smothered in spicy tomato sauce, topped with black beans and avocado, with a side of home fries. Ay carrumba

Huevos Rancheros at The Crepevine, San Francisco

Hash & Eggs – despite the name, probably the poshest breakfast of the trip, but totally amazing. Spring onion, bacon and potato hash topped with a couple of poached eggs. The breakfast of champions.

Hash & Eggs at Rose's Cafe, San Francisco

Granola Waffles – I’m not a massive fan of majorly sweet stuff for breakfast, but these were insane. They were part of the make your own breakfast buffet at the place we stayed at in The Big Sur. When making the waffles you toss in a handful of the home made granola. Proper ying and yang business.

Granola Waffles with Banana, Nectarine and Maple at Treebones, Big Sur

Cornbread Egg Muffin – I know this looks like some kind of Scotch Egg disaster (not that there’s anything wrong with a Scotch Egg), but these took us by surprise. A slightly sweetened corn bread muffin, a touch of chili and a boiled egg in the middle. Awesometown.

Cornbread & Egg Muffin at Sweetcakes, Chicago

Another discovery that we made whilst there was a spice called Maras Biberi. It’s on the table of most restaurants and seems to be a kind of pepper substitute. It’s a blend of chili, olive oil, lemon juice and salt, ground up and dried. We bought some at the Egyptian Souk to bring back with us; it’s not that easy to get in London, but I have found it in local Turkish supermarkets.

We’re pretty much addicted to the stuff, and it goes into quite a lot of what we eat, including this recipe which is a remix of a healthy coleslaw.

Ingredients

Vegetables:

1 small red onion, thinly sliced

1/2 a head of spring / pointy cabbage, thinly sliced

2 medium carrots, grated

For the dressing:

1 clove of garlic, finely chopped

3 tablespoons no fat Greek yogurt

1 tablespoon hummus

2 teaspoons Dijon mustard

1 teaspoon Maras Biberi

Juice of half a lemon

50 ml olive oil

Handful of chopped leafy green herbs (mint / basil / tarragon / coriander etc)

Method

Grate the carrots and finely chop the cabbage and onions and place in a large bowl. Mix the dressing in a sepperate bowl by chopping up the garlic and herbs and then adding the rest of the indgredients. Mix well until blended. Add the dressing to the vegetables in the bowl and mix well. Serve with grilled meats (lamb or chicken) or to keep it veggie some griddled Haloumi cheese. Afiyet olsun.

A couple of years ago whilst planning a trip to the apple, a friend told me that I had to check out this guy called Kenny Shopsin’s place in the Lower East Side. I’d never heard of him, but after a bit of digging I discovered that he’s a bit of a local hero. The best way I can think of describing Kenny is that he’s a kind of gutter Heston Blumenthal. He’s become ‘famous’ for his innovative combinations of foods, but not in a molecular gastronomy way. More thinking laterally about whats really tasty. His menu lists over 900 items, which he creatively names; dishes include ‘Slutty Cakes’ and ‘Blisters On My Sisters’. He’s also well known for his slightly unpredicatable temprament and strict house rules that are supposed to have partly inspired the ‘Soup Nazi’ character from Seinfeld.

Needless to say, I HAD to pay him a visit, and I wasn’t disappointed. The man himself took out order, and luckily seemed to like the cut of our jib. I can’t remember what everyone else had, but I ate a pretty atomic plate of huevos rancheros, which were very tasty, and we shared a plate of the slightly random, but totally delicious mac & cheese pancakes. I know. They sound a bit rank, but trust me. Drenched in maple syrup, they are ridiculous. So in honour of them, here’s the recipe:

Ingredients

Peanut oil for the griddle

Butter for the griddle and for serving

3 cups of pancake batter (American style)

1 heaped copy of cooked macaroni – tossed with olive oil and warmed before using

1 heaped cup of grated mild cheddar cheese

Warm maple syrup

Method

Prepare the griddle of frying pan and drop on the batter. When bubbles appear on the surface (after about 2 minutes) drop a tablespoon of macaroni onto each pancake and sprinkle with a thin layer of cheese. Use a thin spatula and flip the pancakes over. Turn the heat down to medium, and press the cakes down with the spatula. When the underside is golden (another two minutes), remove them from the pan and place on a plate, macaroni side up. Smother with maple syrup and devour.

I’ve just finished reading Kenny’s book, where I stole the recipe from, which is part philosophy part cookery book, and is an interesting read. As well as including a small selection of the hundreds of recipes on offer at his place, he charts the progress of his restaurant from a bodega in Greenwich Village to his new-ish home in the Essex Street Market, and how along the way he developed his own style, pallet and attitude to his customers.

Shopsin’s General Store is in the Essex Street Market, New York. His website is here, and you can see Kenny cooking those famous mac & cheese pancakes here.

For the past couple of years my mate Ollie has been organising a hog roast, and last weekend was what has now been dubbed as ‘Hogfest 09′.

It’s basically a gathering for friends and family at his folk’s place in Shropshire, culminating in a hog roast. I know it all sounds a bit ‘River Cottage’, but for me escaping London and getting primal with a whole pig, a big fire and bunch of booze is my idea of a good weekend.  Ollie usually lives in Cairo where this kind of pork based entertaining doesn’t go down too well, so for him I think it’s also rare opportunity to feast on pork with impunity.

The preparation process is relatively simple. The pig gets scored all over with a Stanley Knife, given a good rub down with olive oil, and then sprinkled liberally with salt and pepper. No herbs or any other ‘fancy stuff’.

Cooking is a bit more complicated. The fire gets started at 5am, and then at 6 a barbecue pit of sorts is created using 2 sheets of corrugated iron, and by spreading the fire out into a hollow rectangular shape. The hog then gets mounted on a spit (bought on ebay and imported from the States no less)  and turned a quarter rotation every 5-10 minutes.

The fire’s heat should be more intense at the start to get the skin nice and crisp, this is pretty obvious when it happens, and then the rest of the cooking is slow and methodical. I think our pig was about 70 kilos and took around 12 hours to cook.

By 7pm (after a good half an hour resting) the meat was perfectly roasted. I had the honour of carving the beast, but after seeing it cook for so long my meat lust kind of took over and I went at it a bit like a demented cavemen butcher. It tasted amazing. Lovely salty crackling on top, sweet,  smokey, tender meat underneath. Totally worth the time and effort.

There are some more pictures of the lucky pig and the rest of the day here, and if you fancy doing it yourself there’s some ‘How To’ help here.