Gertsamtkunstwerk

More food Days 9 -11

This isn't turning out exactly how I planned. But that's the fun in starting a 'project'. The whole Christmas break isn't exactly turning out how I imagined, to be honest.

Thoughts of early rising and brisk walks. In this weather? Ugh. Cold I can manage, but wet and windy? Not really. 

I also had vague notions of swanning in and out of the kitchen and taking time to conjure up gastronomic treats, whilst also partaking in numerous Christmas delicacies. This hasn't exactly happened, indeed the past few days have largely been about eating stuff we would eat on ordinary days anyway. 

Saturday: fish and scampi and chips. Sunday: salmon en croute. Both a bit too beige for photography, although both tasty in their own right.

 

The (shop bought) Stollen is endless and stodgy. We've not even attempted the Christmas cake yet.

Simple prawn curry yesterday. A couple of months ago I made a batch of curry base paste for freezing but, annotingly, I now can't find the recipe. Nevertheless, having a curry base paste or a basic curry sauce in the freezer is a great idea - you can make your own fast food without all the rubbish you risk from supermarkets or takeaways. 

In this photo you can play 'spot the cider glass'.

This evening I'm out for dinner, and the menu looks amazing. However, the restaurant in question has dim light, and a polite but firm message asking people who must use camera flash (or mobile phone) to do so in consideration of other diners, so we shall see!

Boxing Day and after - Days 7 & 8

I started sneezing sometime before Christmas pudding, and I woke up on Boxing Day with a full on cold, feeling miserable and self-pitying. It still lingers when I write this five days later.

I decided several days ago what I would cook for the main meal on Boxing Day. However, I had failed to notice the bit in the recipe that said 'roast the onions for 8 hours at Gas Mark 1/4, and leave to drain over a sieve for 4 hours'. Who on earth does that on Christmas Day? So, the slow roasted onions were out.

The next part was salt-baked carrots. On reflection, these would have been better done with full proper carrots not Chantenay. Our consultant chef, a certain Mr Kerridge, suggested deep frying onion rings. Oh, but deep frying is such a hassle. I discovered that shallow fried onion rings don't work.

This leaves me with Poached plaice in a red wine sauce, which I can assure you is proper lush. Part of the trick, of course, is to reduce the sauce sufficiently. Got that right. Didn't really get the photo right. But that recipe will be attempted again, with a proper amount of attention to detail.

We followed up with cheese and biscuits. Definitely one of the highlights of Christmas. I know you're supposed to tastefully arrange chunks of various cheese onto the board, with a small selection of crackers, and some grapes, but, right, whatever.

Cheese and biscuits.

Still plenty left, of course.

I was always brought up to have cheese and biscuits after pudding - something about the cheese neutralising the effects of sugar in the mouth and the digestive system. But Jimmy says it's cheese and biscuits, and then pudding. I imagine people have divorced over less.

On the Friday we had fish pie. This has developed out of the Marcus Wareing 'ultimate' recipe and is now a standard in Gert Cottage.

The bottle of wine was finished, and I heard the port calling to me.

And the chocolates

This represents half of a communication breakdown. Jimmy bought these but didn't tell me before I went into Hotel Chocolat. I didn't mention to him that I was going there.

I also spotted this odd little Ginger fella in the fridge

Christmas Day Food - Day 6

Big Day. And it's all about the food!

Naturally, I rose later than I should have, and realised there was quite some food preparation that probably should have been done the previous day. So I did my usual Christmas Day thing of rushing around and almost forgetting to eat breakfast. This leads to the first glass of champagne being drunk on an empty stomach and being sent straight to my head, which is a poor foundation for the rest of the day. 

I did get round to having some scrambled eggs.

 

For our starter I had planned Scallop Ceviche but Jimmy was unsure he would like them this way. We compromised by ceviching one each and searing two each. I broadly followed this recipe and would highly recommend it: My favourite dish: Andrew Turner's scallop ceviche with avocado. Lack of attention to detail meant that I used all the avocado for the avocado purée, and, lacking light soy sauce, I used dark. I should probably have wiped the marinade off the ceviche but it didn't affect the taste. Definitely doing that recipe - and variations on it - again!

 

I'm not really into Christmas but I do like fancying up the table a bit and lighting some candles. The crackers were spectacularly poor - the present being 3 stickers with stars on them. an all-time low, I think.

The lighting didn't help photographing the food, and I was getting steadily merrier, so the one photo I took of the turbot was dismal. A pity because it tasted delicious. I used this Pan-fried turbot with champagne sauce, leeks and sprouts recipe but it needs re-writing - thankfully I noticed this a few weeks ago and didn't cook the fish until after the sauce had been repeatedly reduced.

We had great plans to stuff ourselves with all sorts of foods, but other than a handful of chocolates later in the evening, the only other food I had all day was shop-bought Christmas pudding. Life is too short to make Christmas pudding, especially when there is a Marks and Spencer in town.

I was served too large a portion and left quite a bit of it!

Christmas Eve eating - Day 5

So, Christmas Eve. The eating goes on. I got up quite late and had my favourite indulgent breakfast, jam on toast. Pretty useless as a meal, does nothing except break the fast. Ideal for when one is feeling lazy. Still, it was sourdough bread and Hedgerow Jelly, made with Brixton Hill apples. Finished now.

 

I then tried again with mince pies, all the while declaring that if I never make a batch of mince pies again, it will be too soon. Odd, because I used to make them with ease as a schoolgirl. Admittedly, using ordinary shortcrust pastry and not really having an over-analytical concern for the end result. This time, though, I used Pâte brisée and suffered performance anxiety from having committed to photographing and blogging my food.

I felt in need of a revival and ate a biscuit I found on top of the cupboard. For a year we have had 'gourmet biscuits' delivered once a month but I have stopped. They are advertised as not being available in supermarkets, but they are available in delis. They are somewhat overpriced. I wouldn't mind paying a premium for a good service, but they delay deliveries because of 'problems with the suppliers'. However, they would take your money, and the website shows an estimated delivery date in the past. It was supposedly Royal Mail tracked, but there was no link to the tracking detail. When the delivery was delayed, they would switch to a courier that required a signature, but it was guesswork what day they would arrive. I added the security code for my dratted gate to my address, they arbitrarily removed it. After spending several hours chasing parcels, I decided that the biscuits weren't worth the hassle. This was ruined by being inelegantly splodged by some rather disgusting cheap imitations of Smarties.

I decorated the cake, which is always fun. Last week a colleague had gone into Sainsburys for cake decorations and only found one Snowman, the remainder were Easter bunnies and somesuch. Really maddening, and worse, in my opinion, than Hot Cross buns being on sale on Christmas Eve. An abomination.

Jimmy wondered why Santa was accompanied by a  dog. I sighed.

In the evening we headed out to a restaurant where we had a table reservation, Boqueria Tapas. However, they were closed. I looked at their Twitter feed and at about quarter past four they tweeted they were 'now closed'. More than an hour after I had rung up to double check the time. And no suggestion of 'closed due to unforeseen circumstances'. 

We had to decide quickly what to do. We didn't especially want to go into Clapham or Abbeville Village, and risk places being shut or full. We decided that Streatham was probably the best bet. Nowhere outstanding, but many places decent enough. I rang up one, but they said they were closed. The bus came, it was the bus that terminates at Brixton bus garage on Streatham Hill. We walked up Streatham Hill and asked in Ilili whether they had room at the inn. They did.

Ilili is a Lebanese restaurant, and like many, don't serve alcohol, but are entirely relaxed about customers bringing their own. Just a few doors away is a Sainsburys Local. From there we got a bottle of Sancerre, for £17. Seems a lot to pay in a supermarket for wine, but a lot less than we would have paid in another restaurant. And extremely good. 

We started by sharing three hot mezzes. In future, I may order several more to share and call that a meal. Most delicious. We had cheese Sambosa (pastry filled with feta cheese and parsley), Calamari which arrived without batter, and all the better for that, and Foul Madamass- Boiled breadbeans, chickpeas, lemon, garlic and olive oil. The last dish was especially delicious, if a quite stodgy and filling. My photo doesn't do the combination justice.

My main course was  Samaka Harra -  Pan fried Seabass fillet served with spicy tahina on tomato sauce. I would happily have done without the seabass, although it was perfectly fine. The chips had  a delightful crisp on the outside, melt-in-your-mouth on the inside. I could have eaten a plate of these with just the tomato sauce!

We decided to finish with mint tea, although oddly I didn't photograph this, nor the 'baklava for sharing' that the waitress talked us into. Delicious, too! so, thank you to Ilili for rescuing what might have been an unpleasant evening.

While we were eating a woman in her forties arrived and asked if they had a table for five. To her relief they did, and she brought in her teenage children, all of them looking fraught and tired. We considered it odd that a family would be so disorganised as to be needing a restaurant, unbooked, at half eight on Christmas Eve. We came to the conclusion that they had probably been travelling all day, or longer, having been caught in the storm, or its transport-related aftermath. Rather put our mild inconvenience into perspective.

Monday eating, Day 4

An odd day, really. Some people have taken to calling it Christmas Eve Eve, to the annoyance of some other people. Not the weekend, not really 'Christmas', but not exactly a normal Monday, either. His workplace is closed for two weeks, so I decided to take the time off, too. 

Breakfast was dull. A bowl of Disappointing Muesli from Marks and Spencer. Not up to the standard of Dorset Cereals. But a whole big bag that I suppose will have to be munched through eventually.

I made some pastry for the next attempt at mince pies but was totally lacking in enthusiasm. And I iced the cake. Every year, I say I'm going to be prepared and do it all proper, layer after layer of perfectly smooth icing. And every year, I leave it late and the Royal Icing doesn't quite work. It never quite stands in the requisite stiff peaks despite what seems like a lifetime of whisking. Perhaps a tiny amount of egg yolk crept into the egg white. Or perhaps I put in slightly too little icing sugar.

This was after the first layer. A second layer did follow.

For dinner I made what might turn out to be the best single meal of the whole Christmas break, based on Yotam Ottolenghi's Swiss chard, chickpea and tamarind stew. We couldn't find Swiss chard locally, so substituted in Red Kale, which slightly odd turned green after blanching. It works fine, but when I make it again, if I do it with kale, i'll just use the leaves, not the stalks. Jimmy decided to stew a portion of it separately and add chorizo, which struck me as a good idea. But after tasting he said it wasn't really necessary because the stew was so full of flavour.

We finished with shop-bought sticky toffee pudding in front of the TV and fireplace.

  

 

Day 3 of Eating (Sunday)

Breakfast was a Sunday Special, oven poached smoked haddock and poached egg. The toast was less warm than I normally like but I can't complain when my breakfast is being prepared for me!

 

Then I did the world's most boring task - marzipanning the Christmas cake - and I managed to completely bodge it. No worries, the icing will cover it. After I'd done it, I thought - I could have rolled the marzipan out much thicker, I was treating it like it was pastry, which needs to be as thin as possible. I also totally managed to bodge the world's easiest baking task - using 3" cutters for the mince pie pastry, as per St Delia, when the tins dictated I should have used 4". No photos.

 

Dinner consisted of a Nathan Outlaw recipe adapted. Supposed to be Baked Cod with Portobello mushhooms but we used hake instead. The carrots were added in, and actually needed to roast a lot longer than we allowed for.

 

Any rumours that some chocolate truffles may also have been consumed are entirely well-founded.

Day 2 eating - Saturday

I got up really rather late on Saturday. So late that breakfast doubled as lunch.

We had a table booked in the evening so there was no point in having a mid-afternoon snack. 

Dinner was at The Lido Café on the edge of Brockwell Park, Herne Hill. It got off to a slightly dodgy start when we had to send the tap water back - 'Can we have some that hasn't been lying around all day' 'It was only poured this evening' and left to lie around for a good hour if not more in quite a toasty room. Plus the two white English male waiters kept calling us 'you guys'. I did tremendously well in resiting my urge to call them 'Lassie' or 'Little Girl'. I'm sure they would have disliked that as much as I dislike being called 'Guy'. Halfwits.

Very good wine. And tasty olives, if somewhat out of focus!

 

I started with Severn & Wye smoked salmon, Dorset crab, avocado puree and fennel

My main course of winter squash stuffed with wild mushrooms, chestnuts, mozzarella, wild rice and caramelised onions was tasty but actually just too much, so I had to leave some

I finished with Christmas pudding and salt caramel ice cream and a glass of Pedro Ximenez sweet sherry.

 

Jimmy had an Ardbeg 10 year single malt, a whiskey not only of good repute but revered around the world. He found it horrible. I smelt it, it smelt of the overbridge at Clapham Junction station, which in turn reminds me of hospital disinfectant.

Pleasant evening out. I got quite drunk on half a bottle of wine and a sherry. Worrying!

Mackerel Sky, Penzance

I selected Mackerel Sky because it was top restaurant in Penzance on Trip Advisor. I looked at their website and liked what I saw. 

We made a mistake booking a table for 6.30. We had to get a bus from Marazion before 6, wasting precious daylight hours. We then had time to kill and went into the Humphry Davy pub for a swift half (cider). Nice pub, although that evening we had a raucous group of ex-sailors being over-friendly. The barman said he'd only been on duty ten minutes and knew already it was going to be 'one of those nights'. 

The main street in Penzance is called Market Jew Street, which made me double-take but apparently it derives - like Marazion - from the Cornish for 'Tuesday Market'. Mackerel Sky lies in an alley just off, close to a shop where Humphry Davy served his apprenticeship as an apothecary - he later became a notable chemist and is best remembered for his invention of the Davy lamp in mines.

As soon as I entered Mackerel Sky I liked the place. The welcome from the staff was warm and unforced, and I liked the decor and ambience. I didn't take any photos of the interior - I rarely do - but I liked the way it was arranged and decorated. This picture from their own website.

Having started on cider in the pub, cider seemed the way forward. I was on Clodgy from St Ives Cider, and liked it so much I later bought a consignment to take home.

For my starter I had salt and pepper squid with aïoli. I didn't quite see why they described it as such but it was very nice lightly battered squid, with none of the grease or chewiness you often get.

My main course was Cornish crab rarebit. A few months ago I printed a Nathan Outlaw recipe for fish rarebit but didn't get round to cooking it until after I returned from holiday. I can assure you that rarebit really works as a topping for fish, or, in this case, crab.

As you can see from the photo it doesn't really work as a decorative dish, but that's not a complaint. Mackerel Sky uses some tantalising taste combinations and presents them well enough without worrying overmuch about 'elegant' presentation. Wholesome huggy food.

Jimmy wasn't so lucky with his plaice, and raised this with the waitress. Jamie the chef came out to listen to Jimmy's explanation of the problem. Jamie explained that the plaice had come from the boat that day and even named the boat. He was entirely gracious, perhaps recognising that Jimmy wasn't trying anything on but genuinely had a fish with a taint. Jamie offered him a whole new meal, which Jimmy declined, but settled for some crab claws which made him happy. It would be tempting to criticise a restaurant when these things happen, but these things do happen - we've had tainted or off fish at home and you don't always know until you taste it. And the restaurant handled the situation with professional courtesy, which only added to my impression of it being a warm and professional establishment - friendly enough but not intrusive. Attentive without hovering.

My pudding of strawberry crème brûlée was delightful. Light and crispy in the right places.

When we left the restaurant we realised we had make the rookie/Londoners' mistake of not checking the bus timetable. The buses run late into the night but we had only just missed one and would have to wait the best part of an hour. So we got a taxi and spent some of the rest of the evening in Marazion's Godolphin Arms. I was very conscious that the pub was due to shut for a refurb in November, and, to be honest, it looked like it was needed. But the staff were friendly and welcoming, and the cider was good, and any other comments are irrelevant post-refurb. I was quite tiddly when we got back to the holiday let. 

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Blogging All the Food: Day One (Friday)

A stupid idea but when I have ever rejected ideas based on their stupidity!

On Thursday I finished work for the Christmas Break and won't return until 6 January, a delightfully surprisingly long break. It's ages since I've been on a 'Day Out' and basically have no current photos left to edit - although still a long backlog of 2013 Days Out to blog (as well as Cornwall 2013). 

I thought, why don't I take photos of all the food that I eat, and then blog them? Indeed, the idea probably began its germination on Sunday when we had grey mullet with soused vegetables for our main Sunday dinner - adapted from a recipe in Nathan Outlaw's British Seafood

I do realise that blogging my food could make me open to criticism. So, here are the answers up front:

Nutrition:

It's Christmas, a festival based upon the millenia-old tradition of eating and drinking way too much to get through the long evenings around the Solstice.

I won't photograph every piece of fruit - or nut, chocolate, biscuit - I eat as a snack. I might include a photo of a groaning fruit bowl. Might.

Crockery:

Nearly twenty years ago I bought a cheapish dinner service, from Argos I think. Over the years all but one of the dinner plates have broken but most of the side plates and bowls are still okay, and some of the cutlery is serviceable. Therefore, these tend to sit in the drying rack and be used on a day-to-day basis, even though they're cheap and dated.

Recently the last but one dinner plate broke so ordinary dinners are served on a pair of plates obtained from Whittards about 5 years ago (with matching pasta bowls). I like them as a design but they're fairly hideous for presenting food on. It won't matter if they get broken over time.

Last year I bought a better quality dinner service from John Lewis. Plain white with a simple blue trim. If they get broken, they can be replaced with something almost if not perfectly identical. These are not 'best china' or 'posh dinner plates' but rarely get used for fear of breaking them. If nothing else, this exercise has hardened my resolve that these become more of an everyday set.

Completeness:

I won't just omit every piece of fruit, nut, chocloate or biscuit. I see little point in duplicating pictures of repeating meals - breakfast springs readily to mind.

And this is just for my fun. I like taking photos, I like editing photos, and this blog was started almost 12 years ago solely as an outlet in which to express myself.

Nor will I comment - positively or negatively on every piece of food I phlog. But this cod and chips was a bit disappointing. The second time recently we've got cod from small independent shops and it's been tasteless or watery. 

This plum was nice, although I think the rest will taste better today or tomorrow.

Also, don't believe everything you read on the internet. I don't tell lies but sometimes change names, dates and places, just because.

Sennen Cove and Zennor

After leaving the Tourist Trap that is Land's End, our main priority was refreshment. I knew better than to even try the ghastly First & Last Inn, and decided instead to try Sennen Cove. Turn left off the road from Land's End. There's a quite well-known restaurant there (later featured on Tom Kerridge's TV show), but it was not the time for 'well-known restaurant' when we wanted coffee and a snack. Instead, we accidentally fell upon Little Bo café. A little gem!

It was pretty busy when we arrived and didn't get any quieter. I thought the staff did a sterling job, warning people how long they would have to wait, and scurrying around in surprising heat to fulfill orders inside the café and across the road on the Prom.

Inside the café were various groups of weirdos. Entirely inoffensive but as an exercise in people-watching it was hugely enjoyable. There were two 'normals' sat behind me, but, on reflection, they were so quiet they could have been quite sinister. The staff were reassuringly down-to-earth and the menu was reassuringly modern-verging-on-boho. Entertainment was provided by the Battle of the Door. Staff wanted the door open, both for ventilation and to make it easier for them to serve customers on the seafront. An elderly couple insisted on closing it every time it was left open. It was warm inside with the door closed. We desperately wanted it open. But I was too intimidated to argue with this determined couple.

I had a decent cup of coffee, once again stupidly eschewing the offer of a decent cup of tea well presented. We did have to wait a bit for our lunch/snack but no longer than we had been warned. It was worth waiting for.

It was listed as goat's cheese, walnut and apple salad, but as you can see, the addition of ripe juicy luscious figs turned this into a special salad, a salad that makes you despair at the nonsense that passes for salad in too many other places. It was the second time in a month and in my life I had had figs teamed with goat's cheese. As a taste combination, it's a 'keeper'!

We walked around Sennen Cove in glorious late summer sunshine and regretted not having our swimming costumes handy. Mind you, although there were plenty of people in the sea they all seemed to be body-boarders and were wearing wetsuits.

It's a decent small seaside town.

 
We had a look inside the lifeboat station and bought some fundraising souvenirs, so that was good but there wasn't much else to detain us, and we moved on.

 Bad planning on our part as we had reserved a table for 6.30 that evening. If we had known the weather would be so fine, we would surely have booked later, or taken our chances on being a walk-up. I lost track of time as I suggested we call in at Zennor. "Picturesque village" it said on our Ordnance Survey tourist map. A regret was that we bypassed St Just, and, more importantly, the Levant Mine and Beam Engine, which would surely have appealed to my dormant Industrial Archaeology Geek.

We did stop at these abandoned mine workings. I have looked, and failed, to locate them on a map, and have concluded that such sites are so common in Cornwall they're not sufficiently noteworthy.

I fell into conversation with an earnest and eager young man who told of how the mine workings reached out two miles under the sea. He talked of how the Cornish mining industry was pivotal in Britain's Industrial Revolution. I vaguely recalled an engineer with a Cornish name - Richard Trevithick, he prompted me - who had more or less invented steam locomotion, and is less well known than George and Robert Stephenson.

Onwards to Zennor which hosts a curious 'Wayside Museum'. I browsed the bookshop whilst Jimmy bought an ice cream. The bookshop stocked an excellent range of Cornwall-related fiction and non-fiction, and eschewed gimmicky tat. The CD playing and available for sale was of George Lloyd's music. I had not heard of George Lloyd until this summer, the centenary of his birth; a work of his featured in the Last Night of the Proms the week before. His Iernin was performed by Surrey Opera in Croydon and Penzance this autumn. He had lived in the house which is now the Wayside Museum. We didn't visit the historic and well-reviewed Tinners Arms, nor did we visit the church with the picture of a mermaid on the bench end. 

 

We tried to walk to the sea but the path was long and going nowhere. My watch was wrong, which meant we missed tea at the Backpacker's hostel and tea-rooms. It also meant that we had to dash back to Marazion to park the car, change, and catch the bus into Penzance for dinner.

 Little Bo Café and The Beach, Sennen, West Penwith, Cornwall from Toast Tiffin and Tea

The Best Walks With Food – West Cornwall 2. Little Bo Cafe from The Cornish Way blog

Sennen cafe goes from strength to strength with plans for 2014 - Press Release published by This is Cornwall

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Some random food photos

Not really worth a blogpost in their own right but I thought I'd post them!

Last year's Christmas cake. This year's is already made but not iced. The decorations will be different this year because a mouse got into our miscellaneous kitchen drawer, and nibbled various things, included Christmas cake decorations. We binned the lot. Some champagne candles remain, in the candle bag.

 

We went for a casual dinner in Beyrouths in Streatham. It was nice and quite inexpensive. We went a second time with the nephew and we agreed that, although it was okay as far as it went, the chips were too salty. I wouldn't rush back but if I was in Streatham and looking for a cheap and cheerful place at an awkward time of day I'd go again. I liked their way of serving tea.

I had my birthday dinner at Chez Bruce. I remember it being absolutely lovely; we went back for Jimmy's birthday, and we're going again just after Christmas. However, I did have slightly too much to drink, so can't remember the details, and the light was low and I was too tiddly properly to compensate.

Mackerel rillettes

Trout

Mille Feuille

I made some Baklava at home. I don't think the filling was moist enough, and I'm not sure I put enough butter between the layers of filo pastry. but it tasted bloody good, if I say so myself.

 

Ben's Cornish Kitchen

When we booked to stay in Marazion we did so in ignorance of the existence of Ben's Cornish Kitchen. But this restaurant is so good it's worth visiting Marazion especially to eat here. And we ate here twice.

Just the other day, Jimmy commented that there were two stand out restaurants this year, Wild Thyme in Chipping Norton, and Ben's Cornish Kitchen. We booked to go on our first Friday and decided almost immediately that we must book again for the second week. In my diary I wrote 'utterly utterly brilliant'.

Ben's is on the main road through Marazion. A fairly small downstairs room has been augmented recently by opening an upstairs, where we didn't venture. They are very clear on their website there is no dress code. The tables are set fairly well apart so it shouldn't be possible to overhear other parties' conversation. Unfortunately, on both visits we were sharing the space with a table of people who included at least one person who was either hearing-impaired or was needy of attention, which tempted me into one of my favourite pastimes - making up background stories about total strangers (see below).

Food wise, I can barely fault the place. Some dishes had a wow factor, others were merely 'very good'. When you savour outstanding food it's sometimes disappointing to taste the merely excellent. But mere nit-picking on my part! Good wine selection - the menu suggested a matched wine for each dish, a nice touch.

The waiting staff were mainly young. We had a nice conversation with a young woman who was going to an open day at Bristol University Medical School. She will have an excellent bedside manner as a doctor and she was lovely as waiting staff; nevertheless, Sixth Formers, however bright and charming, are different from experienced full-time front-of-house staff. My main criticism of Ben's was that the pre-dinner bread seemed to be rationed to one roll each. Minor niggle, I'm sure you'll agree.

On my first visit I started with Seared Falmouth Bay Scallops, new season parsnips (I'm not a parsnip fan but these were surprisingly delicious), roasted chervil root, basil and tamarind garlic. Every mouthful had a different taste.

The next week I started with Mushroom parfait, with cep custard, pine oil, hazelnut crumble, salsify twigs, parsnip bark, micro herbs and cep powder.

A very strongly flavoured sauce, with hazelnut as a strong and surprisingly effective partner to mushroom. I'm not sure I'd have it again, although that's about my individual taste, not a criticism. I wasn't entirely convinced by the vegetable crisps that were neither crisp nor chewy.

First week, my main was Roast dayboat Turbot with a warm salad of roasted squash, Newlyn crab, Lobster and chard herb salad (out of focus shot).

 

It was perfectly cooked and presented with a perfect flavour combination, and one of the best main courses I've had all year, but, ultimately, it lacked the wow factor I'd experienced with the scallop starter.

In week two, I had roasted hake fillet, Newlyn crab and Cornish Langoustine risotto, lobster and brandy bisque sauce and saffron mayonnaise. My diary records "Absolutely bloody fantastic, especially the risotto which packed a punch with its flavour"

 

The pièce de résistance was my first week dessert, somewhat of a signature dish, reportedly by Toby, Ben's brother. Curry. Yes, that's right, curry for pudding! Mango curd, spicy rice, coconut puree, spiced caramel, ginger jelly, cardamon ice cream, coriander, poppadom.

I had never previously experienced a sweet curry, but I now demand every good restaurant includes it in its repertoire. Tasted like the most exquisite curry and worked perfectly as a pudding.

I was tempted to try it again in the second week, but decided that variety is important. I opted for a cheeseboard - Helford White, Helford Blue, Comte and Ragstone's goat cheese, with 'homemade' biscuits. It was everything I expect and hope for from a cheeseboard, and just what I wanted at that point. I sort of regretted not ordering the Triple Layered chocolate brownie, pistachio milkshake, and chocolate and pistachio macaroon which was Jimmy's choice but I'm generally disappointed by chocolate brownie.

On the first visit, I decided that one party were two couples who had met prior to 'wife-swapping' - they were explaining their occupations and what had brought them to live in Cornwall (they'd ruled out Hampshire as being too close to her Mum and Dad, to gales of laughter, including on my table) yet they were happy to share a quite-pricey dinner. I was delighted I guessed her occupation correctly - doctor's receptionist.

The next party to arrive was a 70-ish man, and two women of 60ish and 50ish. I decided married couple and her lover, whom he tolerated. I was desperately disappointed when a second man arrived presumably from having parked the car. They were probably long-standing friends or relatives, with no offbeat sexual practices involved.

A middle aged couple arrived with two twenty something men - son and boyfriend, I decided, without any evidence to support or refute this. In the window was sat the token 'normal' couple. I felt I was sure I knew the man from somewhere, and, indeed the next morning he said 'Good morning' in the Town Square. I'm fairly sure we work in the same building, but one can't ever be sure in a building of 3000+ people

Do take a note of Ben Prior as an up-and-coming chef - see these accolades in the Food Magazine South West awards - runner up with Michael Caines and Nathan Outlaw to Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall as Local Food Hero; Best Restaurant; and Runner-up as Best Chef. Listed by The Times as one of the Top 30 restaurants by the sea and appearing in the Waitrose Good Food Guide. A foodie blogger's view: Saffron Bunny

I probably won't return to this part of Cornwall soon - it would be nice to see scenery elsewhere - but if there was one reason to return it would be this restaurant. Outstanding. 

A foggy day in Penwith

If you go on holiday to West Cornwall, the law dictates you go to Land's End. 

The day started warm, followed by a brief shower. We were in no hurry to get out, needing a rest and a lie-in after several relentless days. It felt that the weather would clear up. So, Land's End it would be, thirteen miles away. No need even for SatNav. 

We turned off onto the by-road to take us to Porthcurno. Magical Porthcurno, highly recommended as one of the best beaches on Cornwall. Down narrow twisty lanes, up and down steep slopes in gathering mist. We passed the Porthcurno Telegraph Museum which was closed. It's based near where the Transatlantic submarine cables came ashore. 

As soon as we arrived in the car park, the skies opened and torrential rain fell. We waited the obligatory ten minutes in the hope that it would clear. It did, and as we got out of the car and carried out the necessary faffing that all holidaymakers do, we noticed several other car loads emerging.

I had thought we would have the beach to ourselves, but no chance - there was upwards of two dozen others. I found the sloping dry sand quite hard going. But it certainly was a lovely little beach, although I imagine it gets very crowded on hot days in high season. The weather wasn't great for photos but it was good to get the fresh air and leg stretch.

There was an interesting rock formation forming part of scramble up the cliffs to the Coastal Path. There were some walkers on the path and I suppose we could have walked round to see the legendary open air Minack Theatre.

Instead we drove on towards Lands End but the fog was not improving. It seemed a bit much to pay £5 to sit in a car park and gaze out to a foggy sea. By now I fancied some refreshment and we made the mistake of stopping in the First and Last Inn in England. I was so incensed by the mockery of a cup of tea I took to Trip Advisor to moan. I accept that one will pay higher prices in popular tourist locations, and I don't mind that if it's for a decent product. But I hate it when English tourist places can't even get a cup of tea right.

As we descended from the ridge the fog cleared but it still wasn''t a pleasant day. We parked up in Penzance and went to the The Old Lifeboat House Bistro. It was mid-afternoon and they had a sign that they were open for scones, cakes and beverages. Jimmy asked if they could do us a sandwich. Yes, they said. Which was nice of them, I thought. And sensible, business-wise. 

It was a lovely example of how to do things well. In a sense perfect. Not exceptional or outstanding but as you would really like to expect places to be - but they rarely are. Clean fresh bright surroundings. Pleasant paintings by local artists on the wall. A crab sandwich with tasty proper bread filled with the sweetest tasting crab imaginable. The tea was made with Clipper teabags in a pottery teapot, served with cups and saucers, with real milk in a pottery jug. If you use good quality teabags, such as Clipper, you don't need to use leaf tea. China pots are great for purists but I'm happy with a decent pottery one. A light late lunch I really savoured. We never went back for dinner but I would have had faith on the basis of the quality and service we received.

In the evening we went for dinner at the Victoria Inn in Perranuthnoe. A highly reviewed restaurant, and one that several locals had recommended to us, it appears in the Waitrose Good Food Guide. The chef/owner trained with Raymond Blanc and Michael Caines. Suffice to say we booked to return the next week, too. People travel a long way to eat here, and it's worth it. 

I started with tempura of fish and seafood with a coriander dipping sauce.

It's pretty easy to do, but quite difficult to do well. They did it well. Not a hint of greasiness in the batter, and the fish and seafood were fresh, tasty and beautifully cooked. The salad was good, too - crispy and flavourful. 

My main course was roast cod with champ potatoes, and, as I wrote in my diary, 'other stuff, with a creamyish sauce'.

They got it absolutely right for pub food. No compromise on the quality of ingredients, and some good flavour combinations, bringing the art of the kitchen to the plate. A chain pub could have done something broadly analogous but there would be no comparison. They didn't make the food over-fancy: there's a place for that but not in a pub. My main criticism would be that the portions were generous, leaving no room for pudding.

Other people's blogposts include: 

118 Lamorna to Porthcurno to Land’s End - she's walking the coast of Britain, and she writes well. I'll have to go back and read some more of this - especially as she's already walked most of the stretches that I know - see also 117 Perranuthnoe, Penzance to Lamorna Cove

 

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St Ives

A tale of two meals - Trinity Clapham

There is no denying that Trinity at Clapham is a superb restaurant. Adam Byatt is a really good chef. However, it is unlikely that we are ever going to return for a Sunday lunch there, and certainly not when Adam is travelling in the Far East.

We went just about a year ago. I really liked my food. I didn't note down the precise details of what I ate, fondly thinking that photographs alone would jog my memory.

 

I started with a delightful wild mushroom concoction. 

I say started but I had already demolished an amuse-bouche and quite a bit of their incomparable sourdough bread and home-churned butter made out of Jersey milk.

My main course was also a pleasure to the taste. I'm pretty sure this is hake, served with cockles,

I finished with a deconstructed Black Forest Gateau, which was full of good strong tastes.

Jimmy didn't rate his roast beef. It was supposed to be an expensive cut, but he wasn't convinced. It was stringy to chew, and difficult to cut. He recognises that places generally serve beef pink, but this wasn't so much 'pink' as cold in the uncooked parts. He left half of it.

There was an unfortunate incident involving some other customers which I didn't think was the restaurant's fault. Somehow, some wine got spilled onto someone's lap and the blame was attributed to the waiter walking past. Admittedly I didn't see it happen, but I felt that it was a group of people who want to create a fault in order to bully the restaurant into giving them freebies. I also sensed the restaurant staff knew this, too, but their hands were tied. We were coming to the end our meal, and also sensed we would help them a lot if we could leave our table, so they could combine it with the next, empty one to re-seat the complaining guests.

But worst of all was the coming-together of the Clapham Yummy Mummies. They behaved as if they never went out, barking, braying and boasting in loud voices, as if they needed to impress. Who? Why? How - it takes more than that to impress me. And to cap it all, they had a baby with them, under a year old. The baby was sick. And we had to endure the rest of our meal in an odour of baby sick. Maybe the Clapham mummies regularly spend £65 a head on dinner, but we don't, and we don't like to eat in the atmosphere of baby sick.

However, we did go back for the New Year's Eve tasting menu, and that was the right decision. There were several children at the early evening sitting, but they were children who had been brought up to appreciate a good restaurant, to sit up at table, and not run around, whose parents had the novel idea of conversing with the children, and not at them - exactly the sort of fellow diners you should expect at a fairly pricey quality restaurant.

The food was exquisite, and very little to criticise. We did have to wait a while for our first course. We were offered amuse-bouches soon after arrival, and were also kept supplied with a plentiful supply of the above-mentioned sourdough bread, freshly baked, which, perhaps unsurprisingly, proved to be my downfall.

Before booking I had checked with the restaurant and it was no bother to accommodate my non-meat tastes into the set tasting menu. I think they also had a vegetarian alternative. We decided to go wild and accept their recommendation of a glass of matched wine with each course, although some of our fellow diners, perhaps sensibly, opted for a bottle or two to last the length of the meal. 

A tasting menu suits the restaurant perfectly. They know exactly how many to make of each dish and they can keep turning them out, almost like a production line. I think it works well for a busy evening like New Year's Eve. I started with a Roast white onion soup with truffle and curds, while Jimmy had Consommé of roast chicken and morels. My matching wine was Anjou Domain Rene Mosse Blanc from the Loire. I liked how they brought the bowls to the table pre-filled with solid and elegantly poured the soup round it. I'm a sucker for eating-as-theatre!

We both had Orkney Scallop Ceviche, with Rosehip Pickle and Charred Cucumber. We both judged this to be the star of the show. We both love scallops anyway, and these were a class apart. We teamed this with an Argentinian:  Alamos Torrontes.

The next course was also identical for meat-eaters and non-meat eaters alike. The accompanying wine was a South African Chardonnay, Hamilton Russell. I'm not a great Chardonnay fan because so much mediocre stuff is sold for the mass market. However, this was very quaffable and went well with the Gnocchi Parisienne, Cauliflower, Truffle and Parmesan

Not at all a good photo but I don't like to use flash in restaurants so am dependent on ambient lighting. If I'm in a hurry to take the photo - usually one shot and then eat, especially if it's a hot course - I might move. And I was probably halfway drunk by this point.

I followed with Seabass, Pumpkin, Chanterelles matched with another decent Chardonnay - Toques et Clochers "Haute-Vallée" from Limoux. Jimmy had Salt-crusted partridge, artichoke and roast chestnuts.

This was probably my least favourite course. Everything tasted fresh and was cooked very well, but I didn't think the overall combination particularly worked.

We were approaching the home straight, with Black Forest, served with a Moscatel  - Lustau Emilín.

The finale to the meal was Truffle baked Vacherin Mont d'or, with Savagnin, Domaine Daniel Dugois from Arbois. I am one of these people who usually takes an awful long time to realise that I am full and so carries on eating. But by this point I knew I was full and didn't get to fully appreciate the Vacherin. It almost hurt to put it in my mouth, which was a pity. I was well stuffed!

I'd do the tasting menu again, with the matched wines, as long as I didn't have to get up the enxt morning. But I would definitely eat a lot less ovenfresh sourdough bread.

Previous blogpost on Trinity

Some other people's blogposts (some more pretentious than others)

Trinity Clapham – British cooking done right! - Motley Spicer

Trinity, Clapham Common - Last Friday Night

Trinity, Clapham - TwelvePointFivePercent

Second Restaurant review – Trinity, Clapham. Michelin star or not??? (I’ll be the judge) - Alexsfood

Exhibition Rooms

It was a sad occasion when we last visited the Exhibition Rooms in Crystal Palace. We have been there several times over several years and never had cause to complain about the food or the service. A while back, we had an unpleasant experience when some man followed me into the Ladies loos. I made a written complaint, the management explained that he was an ex-member of staff who had been barred from the premises, but on management's night off, another member of staff had invited him in (and lied to us that he was leaving the premises immediately). The response from management was polite, professional and serious, and thus I put the incident behind me.

We have been a couple of times when there have been noisy children or out-of-control children running around. Sadly, if you avoided everywhere with ghastly brats, there would be almost nowhere in South London to eat. However, we have vowed that any Sunday lunch appointment would be closer to two pm than noon.

Throughout out meal we were subjected to noise and running about from a group across the dining room. It appeared to be two couples, an elderly relative and numerous children. Singularly unpleasant and utterly destructive of the relaxing atmosphere that we and, doubtless, all the other adult parties sought. I didn't particularly know why they went to a place that describes itself as 'Classic modern dining and drinking' when all they ordered was burgers and mass-produced lager. And then it became apparent that one of the party was a member of staff on his day off. We vowed never to go there again for Sunday lunch, although we were open to the possibility of evening dining. As it happens, we haven't been back.

  The restaurant gets a lot right with its food - seasonality, good quality ingredients, prepared well, and attractively presented, with generous portions and an absence of the 'ponciness' which Jimmy despises. But to have the dining atmosphere ruined not once but twice by the anti-social behaviour of staff is just too much. If I wanted kids running around, as the adults shout about the toilet needs of the kids, I'd go to Pizza Hut, not somewhere where the cost of food alone, before drinks and service, is likely to exceed £30 a head. 

I didn't note down precisely what I ate, but as you can see it was impressive. 

 See also Exhibition Rooms SE19

An evening in our Cotswolds hotel

A startling difference between my partner and me is our attitude to activities such as eating out, especially when we're away. I want to try as many different places as possible, he seems to establish a comfort zone and return to places he knows he can trust.

After we had driven round several counties we returned to our hotel, the King's Head in Bledington. We sat outside the pub for a quiet drink, and were shaken out of our reverie by the sound of the resident bantams sounding flustered. They appeared at speed round the corner pursued by a dog - on a lead, as per the sign outside the pub - and a man who was egging the dog on and was clearly highly amused at this hilarious entertainment. He looked at us to share the joke. I think the contempt must have shown on his face, for he suddenly reined the dog in and scuttled off - to talk to the children on the swings on the village green. Children scampered back to where their parents were sitting drinking outside the pub. It seemed that none of the children was his.

We decided to lay down for a rest but were disturbed by the sound of the evening's live singer practising. To be honest, I didn't think much of him, and I pondered the extent to which you can reasonably expect a residential pub to be reasonably quiet in the later afternoon. I came to no conclusion.

As it turned out, the pub singer was quite decent once ensconced in the bar, and we later spent a good hour or two enjoying the set, mainly of 60s and 70s classics that everyone knows, and quite a few drinks, knowing we only had to stumble up the stairs to bed.

We also enjoyed a pleasant meal in the hotel restaurant. I started with a seafood salad.

I followed this with  fish and chips.

I call this photo 'Waiting for chips'. I don't think I've ever been served fish and chips with the chips served as a side dish, and when they came I was disappointed that they were American-style fries, not proper chips. But, in fairness as thin fries go, they were amongst the best I've tasted.

I finished with a Crème brûlée, which was good without being a showstopper. 

I reflected that I really couldn't complain about the food, but the second time of eating in a place in a short time is never quite as delightful as the first. You've generally chosen your most favourite dish on the first day, and few restaurants alter their menus radically from day to day, although in my experience they've usually removed the dish that you almost ordered on the first night. But it was still very nice, and so convenient, and there was a really good atmosphere in the bar.

See also First day in the Cotswolds

Anchor, Burton Bradstock

Our final day in Dorset was almost a wash-out. The heavy rainy and heavier skies, and lack of light, meant there was only one thing to do - go out for lunch, and locally. Burton Bradstock seemed the obvious choice, and we had three places to choose from, all previously visited and all tempting. We opted for The Anchor. We have been before, although it's changed hands since.

We went in. We drank beer. We ate a seafood platter - this between the two of us

We just about ate it all

All of it (just about)

I love a seafood platter. This was no exception. It was unusual, because they gave it an Asian twist, which we both appreciated. Mind you, it's hard work eating your way through that. We weren't fit for much else for the rest of the gloomy rainy day, although we did a flying visit to the rather lovely Washingpool Farm Shop

We spent the late afternoon and evening vegetating in front of the TV, and the woodburner.

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Upstairs, Brixton

I've blogged about Upstairs before, and have been back. I went in November but didn't take photos of my meal because it was really quite dark - we sat in the bar area rather than the dining room! I have adopted a rule from somewhere of generally not taking photos in a restaurant with flash. It may not apply in a loud and larey bar, but in an intimate restaurant, definitely so. At the time I tweeted my selection: At Upstairs I started with Wild Mushroom, Celeriac, Prune; then Plaice, Romanesco, Walnut; & Baba, Quince, Vanilla. I also commented on my liking of the small choice of dishes and the spare description. I suppose if you're a fussy eater, it could be a problem. I don't know if my non-meat-eating classes me as fussy, but as a fish eater I never have a problem.

We also went in August last year. It was a warm, but not too warm, summer's evening, and we sat in the Upstairs dining room, light streaming in through the windows. Unusually, every party there consisted of two people, one female and one male, probably couples. I was amused that, barring one, every man wore a formal striped shirt, open at the neck, no tie. The exception was a man in his mid-to-late twenties who wore a t-shirt with some logo on. I forget now whether it was for a band, or a product, or what. But it set me thinking.

This restaurant has no dress code, yet most of the men had opted for an unspoken uniform. And the women's dress, although more varied, was consistent with this. The young man wearing a t-shirt had no negative effect whatsoever on my dining experience, nor, I assume, the other parties'. He was otherwise unnoticeable, unassuming and well-behaved, the sort of customer any restaurant would want. I pitied his female companion for being with a man who has no dress sense or sense of occasion. But that is very presumptive of me. They may celebrate that they are different, and don't feel the need to conform; up to a point I agree. They may dismiss the other men as boring or bland - although in my experience non-conformist clothing is often worn by people lacking in confidence in their character. This paragraph is woven with judgements and assumptions, and I acknowledge that it's none of my business what this man wore. But it bothers me, and I can't fully understand why!

The night we went in August last year was a glorious night for British Athletics (we actually won some medals in the Olympics which partly justified the huge and disproportionate amount of public funding and TV coverage devoted to track and field sports relative to many other). I sneaked a few glances at my phone, but I can't really summon up emotions beyond indifference when it comes to this particular sport. 

  The restaurant had recently featured in a New York Times article on must-do non-Olympic things to do in London during the Olympics. But I confirmed with Phillippe that this hadn't started a flood of Americans seeking out the imprecise territory between Brixton and Clapham.

I started with lemon ravioli with rocket and sweetcorn. I then moved onto Wild Salmon with crab, butter beans and watercress, like so - although I apologise for the poor quality photo taken in fading light

And I finished with white peach, raspberry and vanilla

Altogether, a lovely evening, with tasty food prepared and presented faultlessly.

We went again in June and although I found service to be generally very good and the food largely up to my expectations, I do have a serious niggle. It was again a warmish evening, and, as well as ordering cocktails and wine (at prices I wouldn't call exorbitant but reflect the market rate for a decent London restaurant), we also asked for tap water. The tap water arrived and wasn't even lukewarm. It tasted as though it had been poured from a mixer tap without even being run off first. And no ice. We rejected it and ended up with bottled water, (at a price, with service charge on top). No real apology and, I have to say, verging on the mean-spirited. It wasn't as if we were drinking just tap water (and even if we were, it's still not acceptable).

I started with Fazzoletti, girolles and hazelnut, basically an open ravioli dish, which was a brilliant combination of good quality tasty ingredients.

Main course was wild salmon, peas and chervil. It was listed as 'sea trout' but before we ordered, the waiter explained that they had been unable to get sea trout so had substituted wild salmon, which was fine by me. The dish was faultless, but it lacked a 'wow' factor. Jimmy had a meat dish, which he thought was poor, although I can no longer remember why.

 I finished with Raspberry, vanilla and almond

To conclude, I think Upstairs is an extremely good restaurant, but can be somewhat variable. Jimmy compares it unfavourably with Chez Bruce, but Chez Bruce has a Michelin star. Jimmy says we pay more for dinner at Upstairs (£35) than lunch at Chez Bruce (£27.50), but the latter charges £45 for dinner. I'm glad I live where there is both Upstairs and Chez Bruce. To moan that a neighbourhood restaurant is not up to Michelin star standards is unfair and mean. It's the best restaurant I've ever known in Brixton, better than anything in Streatham, and only a bit behind Clapham's best restaurant, Trinity (which can also be variable!)

Wild Thyme Chipping Norton

When I booked a weekend away in the Cotswolds, I had Gloucestershire on my mind. Only after booking a Gloucestershire Inn did I realise its postal town was Chipping Norton, Oxfordshire. I apologise to the majority of blameless citizens of Chipping Norton, but it does have certain connotations.

It wasn't difficult from the internet to determine which is the most highly thought of restaurant in the area, so I booked a table with pleasurable anticipation, yet tinged with some anxiety. (outside photo taken from restaurant's own website - I believe this to be fair use for the purpose of review)

It is very difficult to find anything to criticise about Wild Thyme. The biggest downside is it is so very small, and understandably, they've tried to maximise the number of people who can fit in. We were at a table between the service station and the kitchen. On the one side the manager was confirming reservations for the next few days, on the other side, a constant procession of waiting staff knocking on the door of the small kitchen (to ensure no one was in the way when they opened it).

That aside, no criticism. Good service, appropriately attentive  - they responded in a timely manner to our requests without trying to rush us or to interrupt our conversation to parrot a robotic "Everything alright, you guys?". I'm sure I was the youngest customer, and JImmy may have been the second  youngest, and possibly the only man not in red or yellow trousers. I would expect such a clientele to be quite conservative, but the menu certainly wasn't. Modern British, in the best way. A starting point of fairly classic dishes and using seasonal local ingredients (or those with provenance) to take them beyond 'staid' into 'refreshing' without reaching 'quirky' or 'frankly bizarre'. Portions generous enough to satisfy Jimmy, not so huge as to daunt me or leave no room for pudding.

  I started with Tian of dressed Cornish white crab meat, asparagus, poached quails egg, pink grapefruit hollandaise. 

Generous portion for a starter, and attractively presented, with each element given its space to shine, but not driven by the elements alone. This was the same with the taste, some distinctive flavours rolling over the tastebuds and yet blending into a coherent whole.

This was followed swiftly - minor niggle, possibly a tad too swiftly - by Sauté Cornish monkfish tails, brown shrimp, lemon, capers, ratatouille, braised haricot blanc, pesto.

What I said about the starter can also be said here. Choose good quality fresh ingredients, blend them intelligently, and prepare them perfectly. Chef either has a good palette, or, at least, one in tune with me. I had been unsure about both ratatouille and haricot blanc but neither was overdone and they acted as good base, without overwhelming the monkfish. The dominant taste was salty; I don't mean that negatively. I really don't like food with lots of salt added artificially/unnecessarily, I'm quite averse to it, and this was about the natural saltiness of the monkfish and shrimps starring in a way I found most attractive.

I nipped to the loo and searched the corridor and loo walls for photos of celebrity clientele. Assuming they have taste - and perhaps that is too big an assumption - I suppose Cameron, Clarkson and Brooks will have dined here on occasion. To my relief, there were no ghastly reminders of their existence!

We finished with poached pear. Such a risk. I'm sure we all remember poached pears from childhood which resembled nothing more than a once-decent piece of fruit boiled to within an inch of existing. This was the antithesis of school dinner pears, surely a signature dish, an elite pudding, and something I won't forget for a long time. It was on the menu as Vanilla poached pear, ginger ice cream, rice pudding, Nick's raspberry jam and peanut brittle. I was surprised at how well the ingredients combined, whilst (again) maintaining a clear separation. Vanilla poached pear would be to die for, I can conjure up a memory of the taste two months later. The rice pudding and jam added subtle waves of flavour. Outstanding! I may be misremembering but I'm pretty certain the ice cream was injected into the pear!

We finished dinner somewhat earlier than I had expected. We had had little time to linger between courses. But, also, the need to drive constrained our drinking, so perhaps speeded us up. Our drive back to our lodgings was spectacular, as an orange ball of fire slowly sunk into the Evenlode Valley, illuminating local landmarks, ranging from Bliss Mill, to Churchill church, to the nursing home at Kingham.

I wanted to stop the car, but being extremely squiffy (though well within the legal limit) I assumed that Jimmy, the driver, also well within the limit would also be squiffy and not wanting to stop. Actually, he wanted to get back to our digs, park the car, and have a drink!

Lunch at the Riverside

Two years ago, a delightful trio of puddings at The Riverside in West Bay sort of got me back into photographing my food. More importantly, we had good memories of a tasty lunch, in a restaurant where the relatively few children present were under control. We decided to repeat the experience.

When we visited in June 2011 the weather was pretty awful - windy and rainy and not very warm. This time it was sunny enough to take phots, and not especially chill.

Again, we had a very good meal. I started with a seafood souffle

I followed with grilled fish - which variety I forget now, in a leek and mushroom sauce, which was delicious, but, unfortunately, didn't come out well in a photo. I so wanted a pudding, my desire made even more so by seeing the eye-watering temptation of, this time, a quartet of puddings. But I had eaten so well I - uncharacteristically - had no room for any more.

Lovely restaurant, long established, with fresh clean paintwork lending it a nautical feel. We sat with views over the estuary of the River Brit. Pleasant staff, friendly enough but not intrusive. For a second time, we enjoyed Sunday lunch without the perennial South London risk of screaming toddlers running around. It's how it should be (if you want your kids to run around and be generally anti-social and disruptive, take them to McD's, away from civilised people. Or get them to sit at table, leave only with permission, and only with a specific destination, such as the loos. And teach them to walk, not run).

Afterwards we felt we needed a brisk post-prandial stroll. This seemed a fine idea in principle but I felt heavy and lazy. A few droplets of rain fell, and we agreed it was best to return to our holiday cottage and vegetate.

On cupcakes

When I was little, one of the first things any good Brownie - or, indeed, a bad Brownie like me - learnt to cook were Fairy Cakes. Bake some buns, dollop some icing on (icing sugar and water, mix to the right consistency) and sprinkle with sugar strands. This recipe says hundreds and thousands but the illustration is of sugar strands. In my opinion, hundreds and thousands are smething different - tiny metallic balls.

Paul Simon sings 

Hide it in a hiding place
Where no one ever goes.
Put it in you pantry with your cupcakes.
It's a little secret,
Just the Robinsons' affair.

Cupcakes are the American for Fairy cakes

I don't know why but, just a few years back, Cupcakes exploded in the UK. People wrote tracts about why Cupcakes are anti-feminist. Or why it's okay to be a feminist and bake cupcakes. Every you went, cafés were selling 'cup cakes'. I can see an attraction. When done well, the decorations can be a work of art. Have enough cupcakes, with sufficient variation in decorations, and you have an eye-catching mouth-watering display, tempting to the customer who only came in for a coffee. Coffee and cupcakes, living the dream.

It might just be me, but the tide seems to have turned. On the last three occasions I have been up for a sweet snack while out I have drunk good quality strong tea, and eaten on two occasions a slice of good old-fashioned cake - Victoria Sandwich at Lullingstone and Seville Orange Marmalade cake at Sezincote, and an old fashioned toasted tea cake in Chipping Campden. And what can match a scone with clotted cream and proper jam, with tea?

I have to confess that I have tried cupcakes from several places on several occasions and have been disappointed. The visual treat is matched by a let down in the taste. Often the sponge is stale, or tastes of cheap margarine. The topping is over-sweet, sickly, and verging on the unpleasant. The topping helps to keep the bun fresher, but only up to a point.

There is one noble exception to the Cupcake disappointment - Ms Cupcake in Brixton. Vegan and gluten free, but nevertheless packed full of flavour. Jimmy got into a habit of buying me cupcakes from there, and I got into the habit of taking photos of them - with my phone. These are not good photos, so on a few occasions I actually took photos with my real camera.

Eventually, I came to the conclusion that these cupcakes, tasty though they are, were giving me such a sugar rush, followed by a sugar low, that I should indulge only on occasion. I have since rediscovered the delights of the slice of traditional English cakes, but I would still recommend Ms Cupcake as outstanding. And she has a cookbook recently published.

We even pretend that cakes aren't for us, but we buy them just for my Ladies' Maid

 

There again, she just likes cake! (from La Parisienne on Streatham Hill)

Boqueria Tapas

I am so behind with my blogging that before I have got round to writing about my June visit to Boqueria on Acre Lane, I have revisited. We have been three times this year, which is probably an indication of how much we like the place.

It helps that it's very close to home, eminently walkable - but why walk when there's a bus service practically door-to-door! The staff are lovely, can't fault them. Don't interrupt you when eating, in order to ask spurious questions about 'everything okay'* and yet are very approachable. Also, as happened on Saturday, we didn't quite finish everything on our plates. The waiter, who I think is also manager, asked with genuine concern whether there was a reason we hadn't finished. I reassured him that we had been in that awkward position of being hungry but perhaps not hungry enough to eat a full meal, had had rather a large breakfast (and rather a large snack at the Lambeth Country Show). 

Boqueria do some things extremely well. The seafood paella we had in June was exceptional, better than paellas I have had in Spain. I enjoyed the Rape a la Catalana con gambas - monkfish and prawns I ate Sturday (but forgot to photograph!) And you can see from the photo above an excellent example of how to present a simply described 'Mixed salad' with fresh succulent ingredients.

Less successful was Espinacas a la crema gratinada con piñones (fresh spinach with melted cheese raisins and pine nuts). It was eatable and not unpleasant, but I found it to be surprisingly bland - perhaps I expected more of a piquant taste from the goat's cheese. It was a generous portion of spinach, which led to the dish seeming unstructured.

I also enjoyed the Crema Catalana. Although, it  wasn't as delicious as the supreme tarta I ate in January, and, to be honest, it's difficult to find a commercial Burnt Cream to match my own!

On Saturday, I started with a gazpacho, which was perfect, especially given that I had arrived somewhat dehydrated from a trek through the Lambeth Country Show.

As we left, I said to the staff "See you again soon". A welcoming and relaxed restaurant with good food and friendly staff. 

*I hate it when restaurants do that - it's paying lip-service to some artifical notion of customer service. Good restaurants such as Boqueria are sufficiently observant to tell that customers who are chatting away and eating their food are probably very happy. Interrupting conversation diminishes this.

Lunch at Chez Bruce

I wrote about Chez Bruce a few weeks ago and soon after I blogged that, we returned. It seemed a sensible way to beat the dark wet gloomy depressing days of early June. A three course weekday lunch is priced at £27.50, so it's no great surprise it gets fully booked up . We've booked at fairly short notice twice, and have had to make do with times not of our choosing. Which is fine - if I wanted to choose the precise time I'd be more organised. 

One of the things I appreciate about Chez Bruce is they have no airs and graces. I have been in downmarket eateries who take a customer's lack of knowledge as a personal insult. A sign of a good restaurant is when they patiently explain what the strange-to-me ingredients are.

I started with Brandade-stuffed piquillo pepper with a sauté of squid, tomato, chilli and aïoli. Brandade is an emulsion of salt cod and olive oil. Piquillo is a particular form of sweet pepper originating from Northern Spain. Chez Bruce say:

We are not into tricks in the kitchen and there are doubtless some who view our food as slightly old fashioned in this regard. We take this as a compliment!

Whilst I have a fondness for places with tricks - if done well - I also have enormous respect for the Chez Bruce approach. I see it as conservative, in a good way, letting the ingredients shine. Not overly fancy; surprisingly hearty, cooked perfectly. I particularly liked how the fish ingredients accompanied the vegetables*.

Although I love vegetarian food, it's a rare event when I opt for the vegetarian main course in a proper restaurant. This time I chose Pea tortelloni with asparagus, wild garlic and mousserons. A celebration of summer, notwithstanding the gloomy weather. 2012 is the year that I came to regard fresh peas as a sensual ingredient, not just a convenience food.The tortellini was delicate and thin, to melt on the tongue. Asparagus I love for just a few weeks a year. And I learned that mousserons are mushrooms, often known as Fairy Ring mushrooms. For far too long I ate only supermarket button mushrooms. Okay as far as they go, but nothing compares to the various nutty tastes of the numerous different varieties. We shared a bottle of very good white with the meal - I forget what now. And they have such an extensive wine list I can't even refresh my memory!

With my pudding I additionally had a glass of dessert wine. It was probably very foolish to indulge to this extent at lunchtime - but all I had to do was to get the bus home and snooze on the sofa. Strawberries in shortbread with creme patisserie (if I remember correctly) and elderflower jelly. Not the first time I have had jelly and shortbread this summer. They go well together and are surprisingly sophisticated. The fresh elderflower is a great foil for the sharpness of the strawberries.

I like the little touches. Parmesan chips; bread rolls I could happily repast on; chocolate truffles with the coffee. Can't fault the food, can't fault the service - sufficiently formal but not stiff; sufficiently friendly but not over-familiar. I really must go back again soon!

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* technically or botanically peppers and tomatoes are fruit. For cuilnary purposes they are vegetables!

A quick trip down to Brixton

This was ages ago now, but I decided to bring my camera when we went shopping. It was just before the Diamond Jubilee. I am fervently anti-Monarchist, but I always like Morleys' window display, even if it's Christmas in November, or promoting Valentine's Day, the ultimate miserable capitalist corruption of imagined romance. And their Diamond Jubilee display was eye-catching!

A queue formed behind me of other people also wanting to photograph it.

We went into Market Row to stock up on fish and vegetables. At which point, being that it was Friday afternoon, and the start of a long Bank Holiday weekend, it seemed wrong not to go for Cocktails at Seven.

I ordered an Electric Avenue, named after the Eddy Grant song, which was about the famous Brixton shopping street. I was warned that this was pretty much the end of range, because they were bringing in the summer menu and they were to introduce the Guns of Brixton cocktail.

I was also tempted into trying a mushroom boccadillo. Simple but tasty and filling. It's a nice little bar. I understand that there are Art Installations upstairs, although we didn't venture that far. Some people sat out the front on deckchairs, playing board games. It's a good spot to people-watch. I tweeted:

Twenty-something dual-heritage hipster bloke walks past rolling a crystal ball in his hand

Lots of little black kids - but no whites - walking around in cardboard crowns. Seems a pretty cruel act of deception

And later

A cream coloured Morris Minor festooned in Union flag bunting. Suspect a more modern car wouldn't get away with it.

Sometimes I think...Live theatre or the fillums cannot compare with Brixton on a Bank Holiday Friday afternoon

Seven cocktail bar stays significantly this side of hipster wank - someone trying to copy it might end up too far up their own arses. But, nevertheless, I was not oblivious to the elderly, poor-looking, largely Afro-Caribbean people walking by with looks of bemusement on their faces. There is a lot of discussion about the so-called gentrification of Brixton, and much of the discussion ignores the wider economic context, and the housing crisis in London and the South East. But with similar and disparate discussions about everything from opera to Olympic sports, the fact that some people have no disposable income should not act as a guilt-trip and a choker on people who are trying to run a small business or who do earn a living and do want to spend their 'disposable' income. It's almost as if the anti-gentrification hardcore want Brixton to be somewhere that shops lie empty, part dormitory, part ghetto.

 

Blakes Restaurant Bournemouth

When I was picking a hotel in Bournemouth,  a swimming pool was a must, but what clinched it was the description of the restaurant. Not just their own marketing, not particularly the two AA rosettes which is not a system I understand, and not just Trip Advisor rating it number one restaurant in Bournemouth. But they all helped. And as I said, if it's not that great on the first night we'll just eat somewhere else on the second night. We went back for the second night.

It wasn't perfect, but it had some immense strengths. The serving staff were very polite and there were no mistakes, but I felt they were there for (successful) English language practice rather than because of a passion for food or customer service. Minor quibble, and didn't interfere with my enjoyment. Also, it is primarily a hotel restaurant, which seems to lend a different atmosphere than a standard restaurant or one that is only coincidentally attached to a hotel. I can't quite define it, but it seems marginally less relaxing.

On the first night I started with Crisp Brioche-Coated Goats Cheese with Apple Puree, Hazelnut & Watercress Salad. A really clever dish. I've had deep-fried goats cheese many times, but the use of brioche was inspired, adding a sweetness to what is normally savoury. And the salad was lovely, with the apple purée providing the traditional sweet offset to the cheese, itself offset by hazelnut. 

My main course was Pan Seared Sea Bass Fillet with Nero Linguini, Bouillabaisse,and Brown Shrimps. 

It's been a while since I had pasta as a casual accompaniment to a not-obviously-pasta dish: I think over-cooked gloopy tagliatelle in watery cheese sauce in Montmartre rather put me off. 

Thankfully, Bournemouth rescued me! A nice piece of fish nicely cooked. The nero linguini was just right. To my surprise I enjoyed the broad beans. I've always hated them because of the inner shell, but double-podded, they were very nice. But the highlight was the Bouillabaisse. I'm not going to wade in and pretend to know anything about Bouillabaisse, but I've always thought to be basically a big fish soup, so I was confused. This was a richly flavoured, heavily reduced sauce and was the absolute highlight of the meal, a taste whose memory will remain for a long time.

My pudding was lemon posset and shortbread (see above). The shortbread was nice enough but not up to my own standards. The posset was very lemony. Overall, a great success!

Because we were so pleased with the restaurant, and because there wasn't anywhere immediately locally that presented as an alternative, we decided we might as well return the next night. I imagine if we had been staying longer than two nights, we would have wanted some variety, not least because every restaurant has its own distinctive style.

This time, I could not resist the starter that Jimmy had on the first night: Pan Seared Scallop Bouillabaisse Soup with Rouille, Parmesan & Croutons. Partly, I was fascinated by the ritual of service: first, the scallops placed in the centre of the bowl, and then the bouillabaisse spooned carefully around it, and, finally a selection of the three accompaniments were spooned in with a touch of panache. It was the same bouillabaisse as the previous night, so flavoursome, I was desperate for more. And yet, despite being so strong, it did not overpower the scallops.

For my main course I had the "Great British Dish" (of the day) - Poached Smoked Haddock fillet, with poached egg, herb pancake, with a Tarragon and dry vermouth sauce.

I think it was the least successful of the five dishes that I had at the restaurant. It was surprisingly bland considering its component ingredients. If my main course the previous night had been an 8++ or even a 9, this was probably a 7-. Far better than I've had in many places, but disappointing. I ate it without hesitation. And I was quite stuffed when I'd finished, so chose not to have a pudding. In fact, I was quite tired, so we took our wine back to our room and lay in bed watching TV. Which is a great advantage of a hotel restaurant!

Overall, I was very pleased with Blakes restaurant. I've had good and bad experiences in hotels; this was definitely one of the best.  Not having tried any of the others, I'm in no position to judge whether it actually is Bournemouth's best restaurant, but I would certainly recommend it strongly.

Bistro Union

This is newly opened, and, as I write, still doesn't have a website, except for booking.

It is related to the superb Trinity down the road, although aiming at a different slice of the market. I commented to our waiter that I was expecting red gingham tablecloths - the tables are actually bare - and he commented that at Trinity they iron the tablecloths.

They run a very good Twitter account, posting photos of their current food choice, which looks so tempting. This photos is theirs, showing their barsnack menu

They've put a lot of thought into the decor and theme. Clearly designed to be a bit reminiscent of school or the 1950s, or both, but not quite.

The menus are presented in a folder which is essentially a school exercise book such as I remember from the 1970s. The water glasses are like these Gigogne ones. Ours at school were Arcoroc, but essentially the same. The dishes and plates were similar to the odds and sods that still populate mother's kitchen, dating from the late 50s and early 60s.

I noticed on the drink menu that if you wish to buy your spirits by the bottle, you can store your bottle in a locker above the bar - you keep custody of the key. Very clever, I thought. Encourages the customer to return.

The bar is at the front, and you can have the full menu as well as the bar snacks. At the back is a dining room. I think we arrived at 7pm, with twenty minutes or so it was full. A noticeably young crowd, compared to many restaurants.

We both started with mussels in cider, and were very pleased. Mussels aren't that hard to do, and handy for restaurants because they're so quick. But so many places get them wrong. These were cooked just right, juicy and succulent. Good ingredients.

 

I followed with a fish pie. This was reasonably good. It was packed with salmon, and I'm pretty certain it was farmed. It could possibly have contained a greater variety of fish, although the clam decoration was a nice touch. The mash was well done, smooth but with a crunchy top. However, the portion was far too big, even for me, and I rarely have problems tucking things away. And serving it in a metal dish was a big mistake, because it never got a proper chance to cool down to a temperature where you could eat it properly. It was, overall, veering to the slightly too salty. (Note, I have a slight aversion to salt. Note further, this does not affect my ability to enjoy eg salt-caramel, or butter sprinkled with sea salt). 

This photo adds no further info but I like it as a work of art!

Jimmy went for the catch of the day, which on that day was John Dory. He was not impressed. I don't think he'd ever had John Dory before. I'm not sure I'd even heard of it until a couple of years ago. The bones: flesh ratio isn't satisfactory. Additionally, the menu hadn't made clear he should have ordered a side dish, too. It did come with a horseradish type sauce, which he thought was horrible. He noticed the woman on the next table also abandoned her horseradish and was struggling with the bones:flesh ratio. To be honest, I'm surprised he ordered it: there were other dishes on the menu I'd have thought were more him.

We finished with pudding. Again, he chose ice-cream, and again was disappointed. He ordered three scoops, which isn't clear in this photo. Each scoop came in a separate jar. I thought that was a bit gimmicky. One was described as mint, but didn't really have a mint flavour. The others had beguiling flavour-titles, and he confirmed that they tasted all right. But he didn't rate the quality of the ice cream. I think he has finally realised - ably abetted by his new favourite place, Nardulli by Clapham Common - that if you want decent ice cream, don't order it in restaurants.

 

 

 

 

My pudding was blackcurrant jelly, shortbread and clotted cream, which, all things considered, is a perfect little pudding. Everything just right, and so beautifully presented. The shortbread was delicate and mouth-melty. the jelly was the right balance between sweet and sharp. And who can resist clotted cream?

I would go back to Bistro Union again, but I think Jimmy would need some persuading. He feels that - setting aside alcohol prices (and he only had two glasses of wine because he was driving) - it's no cheaper than Trinity. The food is aimed to be more 'cheerful', not 'fine dining' and the service was less formal - although very good.

I've looked at a few 'professional' reviews. Once you've waded through the hackneyed 'I didn't know restaurants existed south of the Thames' crap, or describing Abbeville Road as a 'backstreet', (which suggests the 'professional' critics know less than they think), they seem to concluded that there are some real strengths in the place but also some weaknesses. I hope - and assume - that as a new place, they can address the weaknesses, because, Jimmy's reaction aside, I think it has a lot of promise. And seems like a breath of fresh air.

whatiate-whaticooked

All the Food I Eat

no kitchen orphan

Chez Bruce

Chez Bruce gets consistently high praise from both the professional critics and from normal people who pay for their meals. It's not very far from us, although easier to reach by bike than by public transport. And who wants to bike home from a nice restaurant? Even so, it's just a couple of stations along the railway line.  They do an excellent irresistible lunch offer. We had wanted to book for about 1pm or 1.30pm, but by the time we rang a week beforehand, it was either noon or the tail-end of service. So we actually arrived to an empty restaurant, where the staff apologised that they were running late and said they were still printing the menu!

I had a mixed reaction to that. On the one hand, if I'm obliged to arrive at noon, I sort of expect them to be punctual, too. But it's such a small thing to be churlish about. Far better, too, that they are still printing the day's menu, than handing you a sauce encrusted one unchanged for decades.

I started with salmon tartare with oyster, herb and grapefruit vinaigrette, avocado and crème fraîche. It seemed a bit odd to stress the contents of the vinaigrette, which wasn't really a feature of the dish, when there were all these other lovely ingredients. I have no complaints about the dish, which I think epitomised the restaurant. Very good quality food, prepared and presented with utmost skill and professionalism. I'm tempted to write 'very conservative' but that would imply 'dated', which, actually it isn't. I suppose like classic tailoring which claims to be timeless, although it isn't. There was no wow factor in the dish; all of it was good. Jimmy liked his deep fried lamb sweetbreads with sauce gribiche -  a mayonnaise with cucumber, capers and herbs.

My main course was halibut fillet with buttered spring vegetables, basil velouté and potato gnocchi. Velouté is stock thickened by a roux. (I realise everyone else knows these things, but I'm a bit clueless in the technical terms of classic French cooking; it's about time I learned!). again, absolutely perfectly cooked and presented with ingredients that were fresh and of the highest quality. I couldn't fault it. The gnocchi surprised me. It's not something I'd normally go for, having had some ghastly doughy versions from supermarket. These were closer to fondant potatoes and worked better than I expected. And the veg were just so tender. The sauce was a bigger feature than for the starter, but even so, it was more to provide a connection between the other elements than being a feature in itself. Jimmy liked his cornfed chicken with liver stuffing, tarragon relish, lemon and artichoke, his main criticism being of the unfortunate coincidence of having tarragon as a strong flavour in both starter and main.

We both finished with crème brûlée which was divine. I am somewhat of a connoisseur of this dish, and variations on it, and this was up there with the best. the best, as it happens, is mine, but this was a damn fine close second. No gimmicks, no fuss, no tarting it up. A back-to-basics burnt cream. Pity it didn't photograph as well as I had hoped.

In addition to the dishes discussed, there were several trimmings - parmesan biscuits to start with, a nice selection of fresh rolls. Some shortbread, almost as good as mine, and several chocolate truffles with coffee.

It is clear from the outset that Chez Bruce is a conservative place to dine. Conservative décor, with old-fashioned half-curtains in the window. But also conservative, restrained, appropriate, professional service, not without warmth and charm. It has a Michelin star, which I wasn't aware of when we visited. Different from such restaurants depicted on Masterchef and similar TV programmes, where creativity goes beyond innovation into fussiness - often irritatingly - and sometimes sheer lunacy. Classic food presented in a classic way. There is a modern twist, and it's subtle, not showy. At lunchtime it would compete on price alone - let alone quality - with the better chains. The evening prices seem far from eye-watering, although, like anywhere, one can only afford up to the limit of one's disposable income.

I had been anxious before that I may be inappropriately dressed, especially on a day that was no longer winter but couldn't be sure it was summer either. In the event, I was being silly. Yes, there were Wandsworth Ladies Who Lunch in their acrylic cardigans, flowery skirts and silken hair. And there were two-bottle-men of a certain age who, if they weren't wearing red trousers, ought to have been. Then there were the well-dressed parents with their ill-fitting jeans-wearing slouchy student sons. Some women who were clearly very nice and for whom the adjective 'chav' is more a statement of fact than an insult. As usual, I eventually realised that 'neat and clean and basic good manners' is all that most businesses require from customers paying their wages.

We liked it so much, we have booked to return!

The Fish Place, Battersea

We cycled past The Fish Place when we were exploring Greater Battersea. We weren't dressed for a proper restaurant, we don't like to cycle after a big meal (and wine), and we had food at home. We liked the look of the menu, though, so took a business card. 

The weather was forecast to be dull when we booked Sunday Lunch, but we didn't know it would be quite so dreary, grey, wet and depressing. The maitre d' said they had had a couple of weather-related cancellations. The restaurant was almost empty when we dined at 2pm. Consequently, of course, there was no atmosphere. I was surprised it was so empty for Sunday lunchtime; perhaps it's busier in the evening. It's a lovely riverside location, with an outside terrace, which, obviously, wasn't open in the dreich. I hope it is busy when the sun shines, because such a good restaurant deserves to prosper, but couldn't, if two couples for late Sunday lunch is as busy as it gets.

 So, the criticism is over and done with. There's lot to praise. I like the decor, because it's clean and crisp and reflects its riverside location. The tableware was clinical. An overall impression of sleekness and attention to detail. My slight hesitation is that it may look dated fairly quickly - it's been open a couple of years. I tend to prefer a more relaxed or quirky decor - I've been to lovely restaurants with bicycles or plastic crabbing buckets suspended from the ceilings. But it's relaxing and unfussy.

 

I started with a Crab tortellini in a seafood bisque. A generous portion for a starter. A good balance of flavours - the strong flavour of the bisque not too strong to bury the crab; the pasta sufficiently thin and cooked just right.

We were then presented with an elderflower sorbet. I gather from the internet that they usually  present a sorbet in between courses. It seemed a quaint tradition I remember being quite widespread twenty years ago. I have subsequently been to more places offering an inter-course palette cleanser. Perhaps it is back on-trend. It was just the trick. Also, Jimmy normally hates sorbet because they are usually too acidic. This was an exception that he appreciated. We made a mental note. Elderflower sorbet - cleanses the palette.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My main course arrived. It was wild sea bass with clam risotto. It was a perfectly satisfactory dish. As you can see from the photo it was beautifully presented. Under the fish is potato and, if I recall correctly, spinach. The yellow, which doesn't photograph well, is buerre blanc, which is lovely. I'm not sure what to conclude about a dish such as this, which is a faultless preparation and presentation of good ingredients intelligently designed, but, really, not that memorable. That's actually, for me, pretty high praise, but it does seem conservative. And, ultimately,  I'm pretty sure that without the photo and without Twitter I would have quite forgotten it. 

Jimmy had roast beef with trimmings, including Yorkshire pudding. The Yorkshire was done perfectly; the beef was obviously a good cut, roasted perfectly (not like a boiled beef he had recently for a Sunday 'roast'). Indeed, I think he ruled it the best roast dinner he's had for a very long time!

We also liked the plates and briefly considered stealing them. We lack very large dinner plates at home and end up cramming stuff onto out-of-fashion plates I got in the 90s. Obviously, we don't steal plates from restaurants!

After a suitable pause, we both ordered chocolate fondant with Madagascan Vanilla ice cream. The ice cream met Jimmy's exacting standard, although I felt I'd had better. The chocolate fondant was exceptional, with a strong taste of - presumably - good quality chocolate, and a deliciously oozing centre, as it should be. 

I think the Fish Place has a lot going for it. The process for getting us seated and settled seemed over-fussy, and I was slightly nervous that under-occupied staff would want our company in an empty restaurant to ease their boredom. But this didn't happen - they were highly professional.

Miraculously, the sun broke through the clouds, and there was an increase in activity on the river and its bank. I would imagine that, on a nicer day, a window or terrace seat would provide endless variety. 

Unless you live near by, or happen to have a helicopter you can land at the heliport next door, it's not that easy to get to. A bit of a walk from Clapham Junction and across the busy York Road. York Road is well enough served by buses, but we found it a tedious trawl down through heavy traffic from Queenstown Rd, less so when returning. I guess the best way to reach is via the Thames Path. We will definite return on another occasion.

Other bloggers:

holdtheanchoviesplease

Cheese and Biscuits

Thoroughly Modern Milly

Greedy Diva

Campari & Soda

A Lady in London

Musings of a W8 Housewife

Grumblings from a Greedy Girl

Giant cheesy leek and potato pasty

To commemorate when st George's Day fell on Meat-Free Monday. Perhaps.

The recipe said to use shop bought shortcrust pastry, but, frankly, by the time you've run down the shop and faffed around, it's easier to make your own. Perhaps I should have photographed The Making of the Pastry, but if you're unsure of what that looks like, pop out for shop-bought!

Chop some leeks

Boil some slices of potato

Combine with some chunks of Cheddar, and pile onto a round of pastry laid out on a baking sheet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The recipe actually  said nothing about greaseproof paper, but I don't fully trust my baking sheets, and have taken to lining them regardless.

You really have to pile those ingredients up, it's a precarious balancing act. And make sure you keep that border round the edge.

Cover it with  lid of pastry - that's significantly bigger than the first piece. Neaten it up and give it an egg rinse

 Bung it in the oven for 40 minutes, then take it out

 Naturally, your eyes fall on theunsightly burnt black bits. Aha! Remember when I said I didn't trust baking sheets. There is a reason. All I had to do was lift off the greaseproof paper and bin the ugly burnt black bits. The burnt juices neither ruining my baking sheet not spoiling my giant pasty.

Also this year we have discovered that there is nothing that cam't be transformed from ordinary and adequate to outstanding by addition of a fresh well-dressed salad. (Correlates with the maxim of making sure your food is not totally beige). Ta da

The original recipe

Crap park cafés

I like to walk in a park, find a nice café and sit down, have a cup of coffee, maybe a cake, maybe even a hot meal. If you have a café in a park, you're sitting on a goldmine. Effectively, there's no competition. Customers generally don't have anywhere else to go. Even if there's another café somewhere else in the park, or on a neighbouring street, the customer has to walk there. Easier to go to the park café.

In prosperous areas of South West London, and, I daresay, elsewhere, good or adequate park cafés are great social places for 'types' to congregate. Lonely 'yummy mummies', dogwalkers, pensioners can meet up with similar people to talk about what they have in common. Other people can break off their walks and enjoy the fare on offer. Couples can go for an escape from the rat-race.

On Saturday we went to the café by the Windmill in Wimbledon. We should have seen warning signs. A huge place, but no one was sitting down indoors. Most outside tables were unoccupied. The dog walkers sat alone with their dog, not in groups of regulars. It did not seem familiar territory to the small children demanding ice-creams.

An appalling place, that really should be ashamed of itself. We'd walked quite a way, and this was the first eating place we had passed in an hour and a half. We went in. I decided I would have a cup of tea, and, ooh, why not, a scone! 

The manager - straight out of Jennifer Saunders or Victoria Wood - asked if I wanted a fruit scone. Ooh yes, I said. We then had to move along and instruct one of 'the girls' what we had ordered, whilst the sit-com woman instructed 'no more than one girl on each thing' (filter coffee machine, teapot, microwave) - she was having to micro-manage schoolchildren. The cup of tea was pushed at me, with a mere mention of milk. No oppotunity for topping it up with further milk. And the scone, butter and jam were presented on a paper plate.

Note the lack of fruit in the fruit scone. Note also the plastic pack of strawberry 'jam' - jelly with seeds, never seen a bloody strawberry.

What this photo can't show you is stale saltiness of the cheap scone, mass produced in a factory. Or that the tea was stewed. It's not really too much to ask, is it, to have a cup of tea made properly, to be able to add my own milk without being under suspicion of wanting to steal it. And a scone that was made this month? Last time I had tea and scone, the tea came in a pot. The crockery was crockery: cup and saucer, plate, milk jug. The scone was big, bobbly, rustic and fresh. The jam had pieces of fruit in it, and along with the clotted cream, was served in a little ramekin. Apparently we can't expect such luxuries in Wimbledon.

It is entirely possible that tourists might come to Wimbledon. A town that is famous around the world for its tennis and its Wombles, an Olympic town. Disgusting.

On Clapham Common is a café called Oasis. Someone sat down one day and thoughtfully designed a chilled place. Inside, cushions on benches round a central table. Outside, picnic tables on decking. We should have been alerted on arrival by how empty the decking was - this photo was taken as we left, this woman's man had just gone inside. Don't know if they stayed.

An attractive-looking menu, with mint tea and green tea, with paninis filled with crayfish or mozzarella and tomato. 

The amiable but dim server tried to charge immediately after we (two people) had ordered just one drink. Neither Jimmy's espresso or my latte actually tasted of coffee. Several Clapham types came, took one look, and walked away. They seemed to be doing a roaring trade in selling chips and fizzy drinks to the kids in the new, nearby skate park. Which, by the way, is great. The kids looked happy, and occupied, and I'd hate to see a café that turned kids away for being, well, kids. 

The cushions smelled.

What a waste of a great location and a good concept. We didn't dare eat, didn't have confidence that the current management knew the first thing aboout food hygiene - no certificates on display. Would you buy a crayfish panini in a café that smells as if someone's been sleeping there?

It's increasingly an irritation to me. How do these people get away with it? How have they got the franchise or lease to run these places? There are so many people with a passion, the drive to make a success out of business, understanding of customers, who could make these places a destination, but are denied that opportunity by these complacent dullards who are happy to serve up crap from te 70s, or  who mess up a good idea and drive people away?

Reviews by others:

Windmill Tea Rooms by Wimbledon People

This place provides the sort of customer experience which I thought had disappeared along with Communism!...A cup of coffee and a rather overcooked flap-jack came to over £4...Overall, a disappointing experience which I won't be paying to repeat.

Windmill Café & Tea Room - Virtual Tourist

She had pre-warned me that she hadn't had very good experiences there in the past, so I wasn't expecting much.