A few days in Scotland

We've had a spate of holidays recently, which has been lovely, although the diary now stretches empty ahead of us until the back end of October. Sigh. Still, my digestion, liver and credit card all definitely need a bit of a rest, so I am hoping for some decent weather over the next few months so I can take up residence on our new outdoor decking and dedicate myself wholeheartedly to drinking tea and catching up with my Goodreads Reading Challenge.

The two "big" meals I will cover in a separate post, but in between the Michelin star, high-end deliciousness we still managed some excellent eating.

Firstly, we spent a quiet few days on the shores of Loch Fyne and, of course, we had to eat oysters at every given opportunity:

I also made it a personal goal to get thoroughly stuck in to the local venison; putting away both a loin, cooked to absolute blush-pink perfection:

And haunch shredded into a tender heap and piled into fabulously messy tacos:

Then to Glasgow, and my first lunch in the city found me sampling my first ever vegan burger - do you know, I really enjoyed it. It didn't have quite the mouthfeel of meat but the taste was rich and savoury. I will never be other than a carnivore, but I certainly wouldn't argue if someone served me up one of these in future. The beetroot bun wasn't quite up to the task of containing everything though, so I did end up eating it with a knife and fork. The shame.

We were primarily in Glasgow to go the TRNSMT festival and we were primarily at the TRNSMT festival to see Pulp play. What we learned while we were there: we are old. Festivals are not for the likes of us, even if we were of an age where we remembered the headline act being in the charts (as opposed to the majority of the audience who WEREN'T EVEN BORN IN THE 90s). The food and drink at the festival itself was not great, which, when you consider the amazing boom in street food vendors over the last few years was rather disappointing. Still, we consoled ourselves the following day with a meal at Glasgow stalwart, The Ubiquitous Chip. More venison, this time in the form of haggis (here hidden under a veil of swede and gravy):

And, of particular note, a couple of excellent desserts. D's peanut butter parfait with milk chocolate and yoghurt sorbet:

And my mango and passionfruit Rum Baba (not quite enough rum for my tastes, but forgiven since it was bursting with zingy tropical flavours):

Recipe corner: maritozzi (Roman cream buns)

It's been a good few weeks since we got back from Rome and we still find ourselves talking frequently about the trip, which is probably a sign that a) it was a good holiday and b) we need to get ourselves back there as soon as ever we can. Which, unless someone wins the lottery, is unlikely to be this year. So, in the meantime, we console ourselves with glorious Italian food.

This weekend, I made maritozzi, which are light, sweet buns split and filled with whipped cream. One restaurant we went to also served a savoury version wherein the buns were split and filled with whipped anchovy butter. As rich as it sounds. For mine, I made two versions - one where the sweetened cream was rippled through with raspberry puree and another where it was combined with the sweet pistachio paste that I brought home from Rome. But, really, the world is absolutely your oyster here. 

The buns themselves are a lovely texture managing to be both light and robust, and while they are sweet they are not overly so; I split one and had it toasted with butter and jam and that was also delicious. I suppose they are tending towards the brioche, but slightly less rich.

Chef's note one: I baked a test batch for 20 minutes and they were beginning to dry out, 18 was perfect. But, it's always worth starting to test slightly early. For an enriched dough like this one, you want the internal temperature to be between about 90 and 93 degrees to ensure they're cooked.

Chef's note two: I never have whole milk in, we are skimmed all the way in this house. So, after a bit of research online, I discovered that I could combine 290ml of skimmed milk with 2 tsp of double cream which should achieve around the same fat content as whole milk.

Chef's note three: you could make these the night before and leave to prove in the fridge. Ensure that they come to room temperature before baking. Having said that, they seem to last extremely well in a sealed container.

Ingredients

300ml whole milk (see note above)

530g strong white bread flour

1 tbsp fast action dried yeast

1/2 tsp salt

1 medium egg yolk

70g runny honey

60ml olive oil (plus extra for greasing)

Makes 10 buns

Pour the milk into a small saucepan. Whisk together the honey and the olive oil. Place the dry ingredients into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook and break in the egg yolk.

Set the saucepan of milk over a low heat and bring it up to a low heat (the best way to test this is with a clean finger. It should not feel too hot to the touch). When the milk is warm, whisk in the honey and oil mix. Turn the stand mixer on to a low speed, and, when the egg is incorporated, start to pour in the liquid.

Once everything is added, and the dough is coming together, whack the speed up a couple of notches and knead for 7 mins (note: if you're doing this by hand it may well take longer. Be aware that this is quite a soft, sticky dough and a mixer is preferable if at all possible).

Transfer the dough to a lightly oiled bowl, cover and leave to prove for 60 - 90 minutes, or overnight in the fridge.

When making the buns, divide the dough into 10 equal pieces, shape into balls and place on two lined baking trays. Prove for a further 30 minutes, switching the oven on to 180 around 10 minutes before you are ready to bake to ensure it is up to temperature. Bake these for around 18 - 20 minutes, turning the trays round halfway through if the temperature distribution in your oven is uneven.

Once cooled, these can be split and served with any sweetened, flavoured cream filling of your choice. 

Fresh from the oven

Scruffily filled with raspberry cream

Recipe corner: labneh with roasted tenderstem broccoli

Of COURSE it was the case that on one of the hottest days of the year I should have planned an evening meal that required a lot of time spent cooking. Just as on a similarly warm day a few weeks ago, I went to a pastry making class (at Betty’s Cookery School and it was tremendous fun, albeit attempting flaky pastry in 20 degree plus heat is rather messy). My sense of timing has always been admirable. 

Anyway, last Saturday night we had sort-of mezze. I say sort of because the dishes and flavours were taken from a range of cuisines and thrown together in what I would like to think was a fusion (rather than confusion) of gastronomic experiences. But I fully concede I might be deluded on that point; never let it be said I achieve authenticity in my cooking. 

We had D’s amazing Merguez sausages, roasted and served with a simple houmous and a few whole chickpeas for texture. We had Ottolenghi’s iman bayaldi, a stewed aubergine dish that I’ve been meaning to make for ages. We had za’tar flatbreads. And we had roasted broccoli on labneh. 

So, this latter dish was inspired by two things; a perusal of the original Moro cookbook, and a starter I ate at the late, lamented Reliance sometime last year. (For those not au fait with the Leeds pub scene, The Reliance was a fantastic gastropub and Leeds institution, and the menu was magic for interesting vegetable based dishes).

Even if you don’t try this particular combination, I’d urge you to give labneh a go - so easy and SO delicious. It found it to be similar in taste and texture to Boursin cheese; my next batch I am going to combine with cracked black pepper and smear all over a baguette. 

Ingredients

For the labneh (first stage):

300g full fat Greek yoghurt

Generous pinch of salt

(Second stage):

Small clove of garlic

Spring onion, finely chopped

Salt and plenty of black pepper

For the garnish:

100g trimmed tenderstem broccoli spears

Tbsp olive oil (plus extra for garnish)

Tbsp flaked almonds

1-2 tbsp pickled jalapeño chillis, roughly chopped (optional)

Serves 2 as part of a mezze spread or side dish

Making labneh is incredibly easy but you will need a large bowl, a muslin cloth, a wooden spoon and room in the fridge.

Line the bowl with the cloth and spoon in your yoghurt. Add salt and stir through. Then, gather up the sides of the cloth and tie round the handle of the wooden spoon (other kitchen implements will work too), which you have laid across the top of the bowl, so that you end up with a little money bag of yoghurt, suspended over the bowl. The bag should not touch the bottom of the bowl. 

I feel like I have repeated the word bowl too often in that paragraph.

Leave overnight in the fridge. Mine was suspended for about 22 hours in total and I thought the consistency was perfect but the longer it stays in there, the firmer it will be.

When you come to make the dish, preheat the oven to 180 degrees and toss the broccoli in olive oil and seasoning. Once the oven has come to temperature, you will roast for around 20 mins.

Drain any liquid from the bottom of the labneh bowl and remove the cheese from the muslin cloth. Beat lightly to loosen and then you can add any flavouring you wish. I kept this relatively simple by stirring through a little garlic, a spring onion and lots of seasoning. Spread the labneh on a serving plate.

Lightly toast the almonds in a dry frying pan over a low heat.

When the broccoli is roasted and the ends beginning to look a little charred, remove from the oven and place on the labneh. Drizzle over a little olive oil and sprinkle on the almonds and jalapeño chillies (if using).

Note: if you’re not a fan of crunchy broccoli, you may wish to blanche the spears in advance of roasting.

All'Oro, Rome

Although every meal we had in Rome was memorable, our dinner at All'Oro will linger in the memory for a long time to come, and is quite possible that, come the end of the year, one of our best dishes will have been taken here. 

Whenever we go to a new place, we always want to eat as locally and typically as possible, and the trouble is that a lot of high end restaurants, particularly when situated within hotels, tend to be the kind of mishmash "modern European" cuisine which, no doubt, is fabulously delicious, but not of its place. Which is why we were delighted that All'Oro offered a "Classics" tasting menu. 

It looked deceptively short and simple, for which we were grateful after a few days of quite intense consumption courtesy of our friend A. However, what we had failed to account for was the fact that All'Oro take their appetisers EXTREMELY seriously. There were twelve in total - all bite size, yes, but twelve of the richest most delicious bites known to greedy man. Having reached the end, we already felt like we had had a substantial meal. A couple of highlights:

This was the restaurant's "take" on a Caesar salad. A Caesar salad biscuit. So pretty, but so intense with umami flavour (I like the fact that you can see my notebook creeping into the back of the shot here. Also, you can't see it from this angle, but the dish in which these biscuits were served was actually the hollowed head of a Roman emperor. So clever!)

The Panzanella sphere - ohhhh. This needed to be eaten in a single bite as the centre was liquid essence of tomato. Again, as beautiful to look at as it was to eat. D and I couldn't stop grinning for a good couple of minutes after this one.

The meal proper kicked off with a "savoury tiramisu". I will admit to being slightly wary - I enjoy a good tiramisu but can sometimes find them to be lacking in texture. Here, crispy pork cheek was used to bring that much needed textural variety to a light as air potato foam and meltingly soft cod. The gentle bitterness of the cocoa powder was also welcome. 

All'Oro's take on a carbonara is probably one of the most delicious things I have eaten in a while. Again, crispy bacon was used to bring texture to cloud like layers of pecorino and parmesan cream, and the bite of the black pepper ensured that the dish was not too cloying. The egg shell presentation was whimsical without being twee.

Of two pasta dishes proper, it was the second that was our favourite - a cappelletti filled with a delicious savoury consommé which popped in the mouth, flooding it with flavour. 

There may have been flagging at this point, and the oxtail rocher, while delicious, was incredibly rich and the accompanying celery gelee failed to offer the relief of any acidity to cut through it.  Still, I thought, just dessert to come but...no. While All'Oro's take on a classic tiramisu was as fantastic as you might it expect, it did not signal the end of the meal. Instead...petits fours. And, like the appetisers, these were taken very seriously indeed. I can't resist sharing a picture of the doll with candyfloss hair, even if I was almost on the point of either weeping or swearing off food for life.

So, All'Oro. Amazing. Next time (and I can't imagine going to Rome and not making a return trip here) we plan to try the other tasting menu which appears to be slightly less rooted in Roman tradition, which, judging by some of the dishes mentioned on the a la carte, could prove extremely interesting. I cannot recommend it highly enough in terms not just of food but exemplary, fabulous service. I just beseech you - make sure that, when you go, you are EXTREMELY hungry.

When in Rome (eat as the Romans do)

Pretty much every main meal we ate in Rome, we tried to seek out restaurants doing Roman food - sometimes traditional and sometimes a more modern spin but always rooted in the rich culinary tradition of the city.

We were there in the springtime, so it was the season of the carciofi (artichoke); a troublesome vegetable that I've never really bothered with at home. But, partly due to the variety grown over there, and partly due to the time, trouble and copious amounts of oil employed in cooking them, these were a genuine delight, rendered almost creamy in flavour and texture. They seem to like to put them in a lot of things: sandwiches, pasta and even tossed through a plate of simply cut and shredded meat to make a surprisingly rich main course.

The classic pasta dishes of Rome, the mainstays of every menu, appear to be carbonara (cheese, guanciale, egg), cacio e pepe (cheese and pepper) and gricia (cheese and guanciale). The pasta that we ate was definitely firmer than we tend to have it in Britain - not crunchy but definitely exhibiting that classic, if elusive, description of "al dente". And the dishes were a bit saucier than I tend to cook them which was interesting to note. 

Offal also plays a big part in Roman cuisine. Oxtail popped up on most menus - including the most beautiful, rich, sticky bowl of oxtail risotto which is definitely one to recreate at home. On our final evening, we tried the local delicaies of Roman style tripe and pork tendons. I try not to be squeamish about food but, I must admit, I had struggled with the idea of trip when our good friend A had proposed it earlier in the trip, but when it turned up on a tasting menu it was only right to try it. And reader, although it probably won't make my top ten dishes of the year, it was very tasty indeed (although I think that is mainly down to the delicious sauce it was tossed through; that quiveringly pallid Yorkshire dish of tripe and onions still carries no appeal whatsoever). The tendons, to the right of the picture, were lightly pickled and, although the texture was slightly odd, were very interesting to eat.

La bella vita - a sojourn in Rome

We've just got back from a lovely few days in Rome. Despite forecasts to the contrary, we basked in glorious sunshine, walked our feet off and ate. Oh my word, how we ate. We ate so much that for two days after we got back we consumed little more than toast which we nibbled at like Victorian consumptives. Roman food is RICH.

We went with an Italian friend, A, who lived in the city for five years while studying. We asked him to show us "typical" Roman food and he did us absolutely proud, taking his mission extremely seriously. And so as well as an abundance of typically Roman restaurant dishes (highlights to follow in a future post) we also sampled the wares of a local market, had three cone gelato, enjoyed the deep fried delights of Roman "suppli" and learned that Romans take their biscuits extremely seriously.

This is a selection of the wares from La Biscottificio Artigiano Innocenti, a noted local bakery. To describe these as biscuits is selling them somewhat short. 

Here we see an example of a typical Roman street food, a suppli. This particular one consisted of rice in a rich tomato sauce with a generous amount of mozzarella at the centre. Gorgeous. Elsewhere, we also tried a cacio e pepe version; deep fried cheesy pasta is just as dirty and delicious as you might expect.

Testaccio market is a must visit for a foodie in the city. We spent a very pleasant hour or so drinking wine and eating cheese at one particular stall, and also bought a few bits to take home including a fabulous deli meat called Ciauscolo, which is best described as a sort of spreadable Mortadella. 

This gelato is from a shop called Torce. It has been awarded three cones, which is the ice cream equivalent of three Michelin Stars and it was absolutely divine. Our only sadness was that we didn't have time to try more than a few flavours (but definitely one to seek out and revisit in the future). On A's advice I tried the vanilla (the benchmark of the true gelato master), paired with a beautifully sharp and vivid scoop of raspberry. D went pistachio, strawberry and, in a stroke of maverick genius, cream of habanero chilli (some of the flavours were a little...eccentric). Magnifico. 

Weekend eats (and kitchen talk) - April 2023

As I mentioned in my last but one post, we recently had some major construction work done on the back of our house, which included completely reinventing our formerly tiny kitchen. Previously, we had a fairly large (for a bog-standard 1930s semi) dining room which had a LOT of dead space, partly due to a very small and rather pointless back extension. At the same time, the kitchen was a small galley, with limited storage and limited surface space. It certainly wasn't comfortable for two people to cook in at the same time. The oven was ancient, and one of the five gas hobs hadn't worked in a decade (let's gently gloss over the reason why neither of us ever thought to get it repaired or, indeed, why the oven itself with many year's worth of baked on grime never found itself at the receiving end of a deep clean.) The surfaces themselves were appalling, the decor that peculiar shade of pale, sickly yellowish beige that seemed to be so popular back in the seventies. In short, a bit of a nightmare, especially for people who enjoy cooking and want the kitchen to be at the centre of the home.

Circumstances at last allowed for us to rip it all out and start again. It has been a long, painful and ludicrously expensive process but we are now there, bar a little bit of final painting, and to say that I am delighted is an understatement.

From this...

To this:

Isn't it lovely?

I'll admit, though, I've found it a tiny bit difficult to get into the swing of cooking in the new space. It doesn't really feel completely mine yet and I'm a bit nervous about making a mess. So D has done most of the heavy lifting, cookery speaking, so far. This weekend was the first time I really started to relax and enjoy it a little bit more. I made floury buns and coleslaw to accompany some excellent hotdog sausages on Saturday evening, and on Sunday we had a joyous Welsh rarebit for breakfast and bacon chops with mustard mash, smoky creamed spinach and roasted asparagus for supper and it was all very, very nice indeed. 

Inver in springtime

A quick trip up to Scotland to blow out some cobwebs this weekend. A brief sojourn in Carlisle (not a place I would recommend as a foodie destination, but it does boast the most splendiforous secondhand bookshop) on the way to a night at our beloved Inver, a fabulous restaurant with rooms cum sanctuary that looks out over Loch Fyne. I'm sure I've written about it before, and if I haven't then mea culpa indeed because it is one of our very favourite places to eat.

The chef there has done stages in all manner of high-end places, including a (practically obligatory nowadays) stint at Noma. And the kind of food she cooks is very much of the same sort of sensibility - this is food that is seasonal and local and ingredient-centric but with the odd little twist or flourish that makes you go "Hmmmm" and then, more often than not, "Yum." It can be challenging sometimes, the combinations are unusual, but we have never been disappointed by the food in the five years that we have been making the trip.

This, I think, was the first time that we have been to Inver in the spring and the menu was heaving with glorious shellfish which very much floated our boats.

Snacks to start - oysters in sea buckthorn oil, cured mackerel, cockles in a pickled gel, crab on barley bannock. Fresh and lip smacking, and slipped down very easily with a glass of chilled fizz.

The garden plate - literally, greens from the garden (here, kale and goosefoot) which had just been shown the grill to give a hint of char and then served with a miso mayonnaise which rich sweetness. Makes one see the point of vegetables when they're served like this.

The Scallop and langoustine were so fresh and sweet that they required no intervention from the kitchen - served raw, they melted in the mouth, while the accompanying salad of young broccoli added crunch and a slight bitterness.

The dish of the night - brown crab meat on a buttery celeriac terrine, a salad of apple and white crab and then a creamy fermented celeriac sauce of dreams. It looks so modest in the photo; it tasted absolutely heavenly. Balanced to perfection - and I often find brown crab dishes to be too rich and sickly for my palate.

A feast of pig - loin, head, glazed belly and garlicky sausage with a zingy pickled celery and fennel salad to wake up the palate in between glorious, fatty mouthfuls.

Lanark blue cheese with chicory, chicory jam and gingerbread. I love it when restaurants only serve one cheese for the cheese course, especially when the treatment is so thoughtful and surprisingly delicious. 

A quick palate cleanser of blood orange and beeswax. I loved this, by turns bitter and sweet; D found the texture of the candied blood orange a little challenging.

Poached pear with walnut ice cream and walnut streusel and a sauce of pear juice shot through with the warmth of ginger and pepper. Another very unassuming looking dish that delivered fabulous alternating layers of succulence and spice.

Petits fours: chocolate cream on sea lettuce (frankly, challenging) and beautifully warm madeleines dusted with bay sugar (not in the least challenging; could have inhaled a bucketful even after a full meal).

Of all the meals we have had at Inver, this may have been the best yet. We are already plotting the next trip.

Inver Restaurant

Strathlachan

Strachur

Argyll & Bute

PA27 8BU

01369 860537

Easter Sunday, a feast of duck

It has been so long since I last posted that I’m not even going to bother commenting. Onwards!

The big news chez nous is that we have recently replaced our kitchen. Gone is the poky little galley with the slightly yellowish walls. In its place a big, bright room with a huge island and a statement radiator. I’ll share some before and after pictures at some point.

Easter Sunday lunch, then, was a chance to flex some cooking muscles which we haven’t been able to do in a while. And it was delicious.

Duck and black pudding bonbons with sweet and sour roasted plums. We often make these bonbons at Christmas and, once the  confit legs have been brined, slow cooked in duck fat and then roasted the final stage is simplicity itself. The meat is so tender that it only needs a bit of black pudding and a pinch of Chinese five spice and it holds itself together perfectly in a sphere which can then be bread-crumbed and fried. You may note that head-chef D favours bonbons that tend towards the snooker-ball size.

Brined duck breast with cabbage, ginger cream and chilli oil. An Ottolenghi accompaniment - sounds odd, proved absolutely delicious. 

Cherry frangipane tart with clementine ice cream. D has conceived something of a passion for pastry recently and he does it very well. The ice cream is simplicity itself and lovely both on its own and as an accompaniment. 

After months of ready meals, sandwiches and takeaways, utter bliss.