Like pretty much anyone with taste buds and a working nose, I love bacon, and having a stab at curing my own is something I’ve wanted to do for a while, in fact ever since I read this article by Tim Hayward a few years ago.

Despite what you think, it’s actually really easy. In fact I’d say anyone blessed with a pair of arms could do it. It requires no culinary skill what so ever, just a very few ingredients and a bit of time. In fact less than a week. Just think, a week after reading this you could be tucking into a sarnie made with your own bacon. Excited? You should be.

I substituted the maple syrup in Tim’s cure for black treacle, as I wanted to try something a bit different, and I used a smaller joint, but the rest of the method is pretty much as described in the link above. The only other thing you’ll need is a tupperware box big enough to accommodate the joint.

Ingredients

1kg loin of pork, skin removed and boned

400ml black treacle

300g unrefined sea salt

Method

Day 1: Go to a decent butcher and ask him / her for a boned loin of pork with a finished weight of around a kilo. Also ask them to remove the skin, but leave the fat on. Take the joint home, pop it into your tupperware box, and then cover in 200ml of the black treacle. Give the joint a good rub all over, making sure it’s nicely coated, and then pop on the lid and stick it in the fridge.

Day 2: 24 hours later, take out the box and then sprinkle 150g of the unrefined sea salt over the joint. The salt I used was ‘Gros Sel’ which I found in a local Turkish shop. It’s grey in colour, contains no chemicals, and is pretty chunky, so I broke it down a bit in a pestle and mortar. If you can’t get your hands on it, use something like this, but avoid using refined table salt. Rub the salt all over the joint, and re-coat with the treacle, before returning to the fridge covered. Before you go to bed, turn the joint once.

Day 3: In the morning, turn the joint again. You’ll notice that bacon transformation has started. The salt has begun to draw the moisture out of the meat, firming it up, and the treacle has stained it a dark brown colour. Tim Hayward comments that the texture of his joint at this stage reminds him of Gordon Ramsay, but mine is definitely more Ray Winstone from Sexy Beast. When the pork has been marinating for 24 hours, its time to change the cure. Rinse the joint and the tupperware clean, and then pat the meat dry. Return to the box and then re-salt and treacle (at the same time this time) with the remaining quantities, again making sure to rub the joint all over. return to the fridge and turn the meat before bed.

Day 4 and 5: Over the next 48 hours, as often as you care to, turn and rub the meat with the salty treacle. As time goes on, you’ll feel the joint become firmer still as the meat continues to cure and more water leeches out of it.

Day 6: You’re almost there. Remove the joint from the cure, and once again rinse the meat and tupperware with cold water and pat the meat dry. At this stage you could start carving slices and eating. Like Tim, my excitement got the better of me, and I tried it, but it was way too salty to be truly delicious, so I decided to soak it to alleviate the problem. Immerse the joint in cold water for around four hours, changing the water after two. Now take out the bacon, pat it dry and then put it back in the box, uncovered this time, and return to the fridge until morning.

Day 7: Triumphantly take out your bacon, cut a few thin rashers (this is the only hard bit of the process – even with a good sharp knife, cutting an even, thin slice of bacon is tricky), fire up your frying pan and get ready to grin like a Cheshire cat.

And thats it. It really is that easy. I’ve already got my second joint on the go, and this time I think I’m going to take the results to the butcher I bought the joint from and see if they’ll slice it on their machine for me.

It would have been Elvis’ birthday on Monday (8th Jan), so in honour of The King I knocked up this version of his his favourite grubs, the peanut butter, bacon and banana sandwich.

I first heard about his ’snack’ of choice some years ago whilst watching a documentary about his eating habits. He was a man with a legendary appetite, even persuading his cook to smuggle bag loads of hot dogs into the hospital where he was being treated for the kind of things that a bunch of dogs would really not have helped.

Based around the Fools Gold Loaf created by the Colorado Mine Company that Elvis famously traveled cross the country to get his hands on, there seem to be lots of different versions of this sandwich out there, but the one I recall from the doc is this one based around the four Bs. Baguette, Bacon, (peanut) Butter and Banana.

The King was known to wolf down piles of these in one sitting, but for those of us with a more moderate constitution, this recipe serves two. Oh, and I candied the bacon in maple syrup, as I figure he would have liked that.

Ingredients

1/2 a baguette

2 tbs smooth peanut butter

4 rashers of bacon

1 ripe banana, sliced

1 tbs maple syrup

Butter for frying

Method

First up, get your frying pan on the heat and drop in a large nob of butter. Once it’s sizzling, get your bacon in there. Elvis reputedly liked his bacon crisp, so give it plenty of time in the pan.

Whilst the bacon is cooking, take your fresh half baguette, cut it in half and then spread half the peanut butter on the top, and the other half on the bottom. Next slice the banana, and arrange the pieces on the bottom half.

Now back to the bacon. When it’s good and crispy, pour in the maple syrup. This will bubble away and reduce pretty quickly, so make sure you turn and move the bacon around in the pan so it’s well coated.

As soon as this has happened you’re ready. Take the bacon out of the pan, pop it on the sliced banana, replace the top of the baguette, and then eat like The King.

Happy Birthday Mr Presley.

TCB. RIP.

So…….back in time a few weeks we hit the last stop on our trip, New York. It’s been a couple of years since I was last there, and to paraphrase DOOM, it still is a hell of a finer town. Knowing we only had a few days of our adventure left, we rolled up our sleeves and ate our way right to the core. I’m probably going to do some longer posts on a couple of other discoveries, and I didn’t make it to The Dutch which I REALLY wanted to check out, but here are a few highlights.

Where to start…hmmmm. The first time I went to NY, probably back in ‘97, my mate Matt took me to The Oyster Bar at Grand Central Station. I vividly remember sitting in the back room saloon surrounded by brash New Yoikers shouting at each other and guzzling plates of oysters whilst I sat slurping a New England Clam Chowder in a happy jet-lagged daze. The wife and I decided to pay it a visit this time, and I’m happy to say nothing’s really changed. It’s certainly a tourist attraction, but it is still rammed with every shape and size of New Yorker having lunch, doing deals and chewing the fat (oysters). We sucked down a couple of zinc-ey Long Island Bluepoints, a bowl of that creamy, soothing chowder and a very tasty crab-cake sarnie all, washed down with a couple of glasses of super chilled Sauvignon Blanc. As far as classic New York lunches go, it’s hard to beat, and good to see an institution like this still chugging away.

For the past few visits, no trip to NY would be complete for us without a visit to Egg. I’ve said it all before here, and as pretentious as it sounds, it’s still one of my favourite places to get breakfast in the world. The Eggs Rothko are a winner, the place is mimal in a cosy kind of way, the staff are hot, and it’s consistently good. Nuff said.

That being said, we did find another brunch place that gave Egg a bit of a run for it’s money. Five Leaves in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. I have to admit, the joint is styled to within an inch of it’s life, and it’s more hipster than a skinny dude with tattoos, a mustache and fisherman’s beanie perched precariously on the crown of his head. But you forget all that once you start munching. Between the three of us we had the home made beans and bacon, sage scrambled eggs, and the ricotta pancakes (see above), all of which were serious customers. The beans were sweet, smokey and spicy with a poached egg perched on top. The scrambled egg was seriously moist and soft, with a hint of sage, topped with strong cheddar and served in a tender white bap. And then the pancakes. F**k me. Light and fluffy, yet satisfyingly substantial. Slightly creamy from the ricotta, and served with a dollop of this amazing honeycomb butter. Crazy in all the right kinds of ways. They also serve Brooklyn’s own Stumptown Coffee, which is frikin’ delicious.

Whilst we’re talking about Stumptown and sweet thangs, we also popped in to the Momofuku Milk Bar in Williamsburgh. The sister of David Chang’s noodle empire, they also serve Stumptown coffee and a range of baked goods devised by Christina Tosi, who’s currently doing the rounds with the Milk Bar book. The reason I wanted to check it out was their Crack Pie, which I’d heard a lot of good things about it, including that it’s appropriately named. It is a bit hard to describe, but if you imagine a treacle tart and a cheesecake having a very dirty love child, you’re kind of close. The flapjack-esque base is insanely buttery, and the sticky, custard filling packs a super sweet vanilla punch. It’s dangerous stuff. So much so that it’s trademarked and comes in individually packaged doses. If you’ve got the willpower, you can make your own from the recipe here.

But despite all the above, I think my favourite food experience of this trip to NY was the evening we spent in Chinatown. Again it had been a while since we’d been there, but our ever reliable host, Matt, had a couple of places that he really wanted us to check out. The first was the Shanghai Cafe, which is famous for it’s Xiao Long Bao, or soup dumplings to you and me. I’ve got to say they were the best I’ve ever had, and judging by the team of guys at the front of the restaurant constantly filling and crimping them by hand, I’m not the only one to think so. They arrived at the table in a steamer basket wobbling like weebles, and although it’s generally a good idea to let them cool a bit so you don’t burn your mouth off, I couldn’t resist. The wrapper was giving yet chewy in all the right ways, the intensely savoury broth that burst out, delicious, and the porky filling spiked with spring onion a fitting end to the experience. I could have sat right there eaten a few baskets of them, but Matt had other ideas.

We left the Shanghai Cafe and marched about 10 minutes across town to a little Blade Runner-esque  joint under the Manhattan Bridge call Xi’an Famous Foods. Despite it’s size, over the past few years this tiny place has begun to live up to it’s name. They serve Western style Chinese food, which blends traditional Chinese flavours with those of the Middle East, and are famous for their hand pulled noodles. So that’s what we had. I went for their spicy cumin lamb noodles which were rolled, stretched, pulled and boiled before my very eyes and then combined with the lamb which was fried with cumin, some vegetables, chilli oil and lots of other good things. They packed our dishes up in containers, and we again took off on foot, but this time to a little park almost under the Williamsburgh bridge. Here we found a picnic table, and ate our noodles under the stars. And what noodles. They had great bite and chew to them, and the lamb had this awesome smoky cumin meets gamey flavour. The veg was crunchy and the sauce slighty sweet and spicy. All in all a truly memorable evening.

So that was it for our road trip. Gutted that it’s over because it was fucking awesome from start to finish. As I mentioned above, I’ve got a few other New York treats to share with you like Fette Sau and Four & Twenty Blackbirds, which I’ll get round to writing about soon.

So until then, stay hungry my friends.

ICEBERG DEAD AHEAD!!

The poor old Iceberg lettuce is a pretty unfashionable leaf these days, but the Americans still have a lot of love for it, particularly when it’s served in big old wedges and drenched in blue cheese dressing. This twist on the American Classic uses a local Californian goat cheese called Humbolt Fog, which is lovely and creamy, and has a blue-ish tang to it. Paired with some applewood smoked bacon candied in maple syrup, and a few thinly sliced red onions, it’s pretty much the perfect starter. It’s pretty easy to throw together too. Lets begin.

Ingredients (serves 4)

1 large iceberg lettuce

200g Humbolt Fog, or your favourite mild blue cheese

300g Buttermilk, or sour cream

Juice of 1/4 – 1/2 of lemon, to taste

1 teaspoon Tabasco

Salt and pepper, to taste

4 rashers of thick cut streaky bacon

1 tablespoon maple syrup

1/2 small red onion, very thinly sliced

Method

First up, make the dressing. It seems to taste better when it has a bit of time for all the ingredients to get friendly.  Pour the buttermilk (or sour cream) into a bowl, and crumble the cheese into it in small chunks. Then with a fork, give it a quick whisk to mix and break down the cheese a bit more, but don’t over do it, you want your dressing to have a bit of texture. Next add the Tabasco, lemon juice and seasoning and give it a taste. It should be creamy with some bite from the cheese, and a bit of heat from the pepper sauce.

Next, prep the bacon. Dry fry the rashers in a hot pan on both sides until it’s got some good colour and caramelisation, then pour off the excess fat. Turn the heat down, pour in the maple syrup, and toss the bacon in it until it’s all nicely coated and shiny. Remove the rashers from the pan to cool.

You’re now ready to prep your veg. Slice your red onion as thinly as you can, use a mandolin if you’ve got one, and then sprinkle with a little salt. This helps mellow them out and soften them up a bit. Then take your iceberg. Peel off any ugly outer leaves, chop into 4 equal quarters, and remove the heaviest part of the stalk from each wedge.

Place a wedge on each plate, scatter a few onions on top of it and then generously spoon over the dressing. Finish with a chopped rasher of the maple bacon per serving. Then eat.

There are few things in life that lift my spirits in a morning like a bacon sarnie does. Hungover, or not, that combination of salty, smoky bacon, bread, butter and whatever condiment takes your fancy is hard to beat. Fruit salad, muesli, granola, porridge, whilst all lovely in their own way, are always going to take second place.

The fine example above is the Old Spot bacon sandwich at St John Bread & Wine, which really is a thing of beauty. Thick cut bacon, yielding, lightly griddled white bread with a toothsome crust, butter and a generous helping of home made tomato ketchup on the side. As they say on their site, it truly is the Bacon Sandwich of your nocturnal fantasies.

But I’m not a butty elitist. In many ways I’m just as happy scarfing down some greasy spoon bacon slapped between a couple of slices of Sunblest. However you get your fix, it’s a breakfast that always feels like a bit of a treat, as opposed to just a way to start the day.

Truly one of life’s simple pleasures.

I first heard about The Meatwagon a few months ago on the BBC 4’s Food Programme, and subsequently on a number of blogs. It seems to have become the stuff of legend pretty quickly, and for those into their food, you can understand why. The story goes that the owner of the wagon, Yianni, quit his job and headed for the US to research the perfect burger. He toured the length and breadth of the country (I may be embellishing here) picking up recipes, tips and tricks until he thought he’d cracked it. He then returned to London, formula in hand, bought a food truck and then hit the road spreading the good burger word. Insane and inspiring in equal measure.

Until last week, his burgers had evaded my jaws, but when I heard that he was pitching up at The Ship pub near me, I knew I had a date with meaty destiny, particularly as Yianni had picked up ‘Best Sandwich’ at the British Street Food Awards the previous weekend. As we approached the wagon, for some reason we felt a sense of trepidation, the kind you get when approaching an illegal rave. Would there be a huge queue? Would there be any meat left? What were we going to do if we couldn’t get our fix?

Luckily, we were early enough to avoid disappointment. When we arrive we’re told we can have a cheeseburger, bacon cheeseburger, chilli burger or a ‘dead hippie’, their version of a big mac. We placed our order, were given a numbered ticket and then watched the man himself work his magic, and it’s quite a process.

Step one, Yianni gets the meat out of the fridge, which is freshly ground 28 day old steak and nothing else. He forms a ball of the meat around the size of a lime, and then squashes it onto the wagon’s  hot plate with the palm of his hand until it’s about a centimeter thick. He then presses his thumb into the centre to create a dimple. To be honest, I couldn’t work out why, but I’m assuming it helps keeps any toppings in place. Next he season the patties with a generous sprinlking of salt and freshly ground pepper.

After a minute or so, the patties get flipped and then acquainted with the cheese. Each burger gets two slices of what looks like processed cheese squares, but on asking we’re told that it is in fact real cheese, and is his secret ingredient. If you’ve ordered a bacon cheeseburger or chilli burger the  extra toppings are added next. The chilli is a loose relish made of green chillies, butter and stock, and the bacon a small patty of shredded boiled bacon, fried until crispy on the hot plate.

The next stage is the most surprising bit. The bun lids (white sourdough) are placed on top, and then Yianni produces a number of cloches and covers the burgers with them. He then lifts up the side of each of them, and squirts a small amount of water underneath and places back down. Not really sure why he does this, but am assuming that the steaming brings the buns back to life and helps meld everything together.

A few seconds later and the burgers are off the grill, and placed on top of the bun bases that have been lovingly prepared with American mustard, ketchup, lettuce, red onion and chunky gherkins. We did have to wait about an hour for our burgers, but I’ve got to say, it was well worth it. We sampled the chilli, bacon and cheese, and straight up cheese burgers. All were seriously tasty. The chilli relish was spicy, tangy but also really clean tasting. The bacon crispy, tasty and not too salty. But I think my favourite was the cheese burger. The lack of other toppings meant you could really taste the meat, which was pink, moist and seriously delicious. The cheese really complimented the taste, as did the gherkins which were gently pickled. I’m honestly salivating whilst typing this. We didn’t try the ‘dead hippie’, but that will give us something to look forward to next time we pay Yianni a visit.

I remember tweeting a while ago that I thought that Byron made the best burgers in the UK, but I think they’ve now been knocked off the top spot. You can follow The Meatwagon on twitter to find out if he’s going to be in your hood, which I hope for your sake and mine is soon.

Apologies for the quality of the pics, it was a bit dark by the time we ate.

The Great British Fry Up is a thing of beauty when done right, and probably one of the most disappointing food experiences when it’s cocked up. These days the classic fry up at a ‘greasy spoon’ has increasingly been replaced by the ‘posh’, expensive version served in gastro pubs and the like, and many of the old school cafés have gone with it. Earlier in the year, an old favourite caff of mine, Rossi’s in Spitalfields, closed its doors after 50 plus years of serving happy punters. A sad day.

So when you find a cafe that nails the classic British Fry Up, it’s something to be cherished. And The Regency Cafe in Pimlico / Victoria is one of those places. It’s definately in the mould of a ‘greasy spoon’, but it’s much more than that, and there’s not a deep fried sausage in sight.

Even from the outside you can tell The Regency is a special place. It’s has a really classic deco look to it, decked inside and out in original Edwardian tiles, gingham half curtains in the window, and according to the date above the door it’s been going since 1946. You have to place your order before you sit down, don’t test the regulars by taking a seat when you arrive, and there’s plenty to choose from on the menu from egg and chips to liver and bacon.

We opted for the breakfast special with a side of the much neglected bubble & squeak and a typical British caff ‘frothy coffee’. The breakfast came with egg, bacon, sausage, tomatoes, two toast and the bubble. The egg was fried to perfection, the bacon thickly sliced and delicious, and the meaty, herby sausage (Lincolnshire I think) was one of the best I’ve had at breakfast. The bubble was great too, especially when drenched in egg yolk. In fact the only thing I regret was getting tinned tomatoes instead of grilled / fried. But you live and learn.

In terms of atmosphere, the place is more like an American diner than a traditional British caff. It’s got a real buzz about it, and the guy who bosses the till calls out the orders in this great, booming voice. We arrived at about a quarter past ten on Saturday morning, and pretty much as soon as we’d placed our orders and sat down, there was a queue out of the door.

The regency is a real gem, and I hope it keeps going strong for years to come. They also serve a dinner menu from 4 till 7pm, but I’ve never been there after breakfast time. Go and check it out.

There are few meals as satisfying as a roast chicken. Even if you’re having a REALLY shit day, a roastie can turn tings around. What’s more, there are always leftovers, which means there’s always another meal or two to be eeked out of the carcass.

We roasted a particularly big bird last weekend, so I decided to do the leftover chicken justice by making a few pies. It’s a pretty easy recipe, especially if you buy ready rolled puff pastry from the supermarket. The below will make 4 small pies or one biggun. Here’s how it’s done.

Ingredients

250g roast chicken – mixture of white and brown meat

1 large leek, finely chopped

1 large carrot, chopped

1 large clove garlic, chopped

2 rashers smoked bacon, chopped

70g chestnut mushrooms

300ml chicken stock

1ooml single cream

100ml white wine

1 tablespoon chopped tarragon

1 tablespoon plain flour

1 pack ready rolled puff pastry (around 350g)

1 egg, beaten

Olive oil

Salt and pepper

Method

Wash the leek and then chop finely. Add olive oil to a heavy bottom pan, turn on the heat and then add the leeks. Peel the carrot, chop and add to the pan along with the chopped bacon and garlic. Fry until soft and then add the mushrooms to the pot.

Once the mushrooms have cooked down a bit, add the flour and stir in. The flour will coat the veggies, and the mixture will become a bit pasty. Now add the wine, stir in and burn off the alcohol, before adding the chicken stock and the roast chicken. Stir all together, and then season with salt and pepper to taste.

You should have the makings of a fairly decent gravy by now. Reduce the liquid by about a quarter, and then add the tarragon. Stir in and then add the cream. Have a taste. If you’re happy, turn off the head and set aside to cool. If not, adjust the seasoning until you are.

Once the mixture is room temperature-ish, turn on your oven to 200 C, and start assembling your pies. Decant the mixture into whichever pie dish or dishes you’re going to use. Next, crack and beat an egg and get your ready rolled pastry out of the fridge. Using a pastry brush, paint the lip of your pie dish with the egg wash. Now cut a piece of the pastry sheet bigger than your dish, and lay it over the top of  it.

Press the pastry down around the egged lip to seal the pie. Using a sharp knife, cut of the excess off the side, and then ‘crimp’ the edge with a fork. Finally, make a little ‘chimney’ hole in the centre of the lid with a tooth pick and brush it all over with the egg wash.

The pies are now ready to cook. If you’ve made small pies they’ll take around 15 to 20 minutes, a bigger one more like half an hour. Either way, the pastry lid should be dark golden brown and puffed up when they’re done.

Eat immediately with new potatoes, steamed broccoli or a green salad with a mustardy vinaigrette.

Pretty good, although maybe not as good as the missus’ chicken pie, but thats another story.

So, catching up, the second course of our valentine’s dinner was baked cod and baby leeks straight from the pages of Jamie at home, which if you don’t have it is a brilliant book (IMHO). The cod is marinaded in a lemon and herb mix before cooking. We had ours served with garlic mash.

Ingredients

10 baby leeks, trimmed

2 x 200g fillets of cod (with skin and sustainable if possible)

4 rashers of smoked streaky bacon

Juice of 1/2 a small lemon

Olive oil

1 large clove garlic finely chopped

2 sprigs rosemary

2 sprigs thyme

2 bay leaves

Salt & pepper

For the mash

400g potatoes

1 large clove garlic

Butter, milk salt & pepper to taste

Method

First, make the marinade for the fish. Bash up the thyme, rosemary and bay in a pestle and mortar with a good pinch of sea salt. Add a couple of glugs of olive oil, a few grinds of black pepper and the lemon juice. Chop a large clove of garlic finely, then add to the herby mixture and stir. Pour the marinade over the cod fillets in a bowl, rubbing it in and making sure it’s well coated.

Bring a pan of mildly salted water to the boil and then parboil the leeks for 3 minutes, pull out and then pat dry. Add them to the bowl the fish is marinading in, and toss.

Now put on your oven to 200 degrees C with a baking dish inside. At the same time, add your spuds to the same pan you cooked the leeks in with a clove of garlic and simmer gently. After 15 minutes, your oven should be up to temperature. Remove the dish, and remove the two cod fillets from the marinade and place them skin side down in the pre-heated dish, you should hear a nice sizzle. Then pour in the leeks and the remaining marinade. Finally place the rashers of bacon on top of the fillets before placing the dish back in the oven; it’s going to cook for 15 minutes.

After 10 minutes, the potatoes should be cooked, remove from the heat, drain, mash and add butter, milk, salt and pepper to taste. Beat with a spoon until nice and smooth.

The fish should now be ready. Remove from the oven and serve with the leeks and some of the marinade and cooking juices, and a good dollop of mash. Quite a tough dish to make look really attractive, but very tasty. Thanks Mr Oliver.

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.

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.