A sojourn by the sea

We’ve just got back from a very pleasant couple of nights in Whitby. We’ve been so many times that we’ve pretty much exhausted the tourist attractions so our trips now basically consist of wandering around and, er, eating. There are many worse ways to pass the time.

I was planning to do a photo food diary post for the blog, since it’s all been a bit quiet recently. But the reality of most of the food served at the British seaside (in my experience anyway; I have yet to visit Padstein) is rather beige. So posting pictures of everything might prove a little dull. Let’s have some edited highlights instead.

The Bay Hotel in Robin Hoods Bay is slightly famous as it marks one end of the Coast to Coast (which I’m determined to do someday). They have a book there that walkers can sign. We popped there for lunch and bagged a little corner table that looked out over the eponymous bay. Haute cuisine this is not, but I can confirm that the chips are good and the prawn sandwich generously filled. D ordered the fried seafood platter for reasons best known to himself and ended up with a pile of vaguely fishy tasting goujons. The menu mentioned squid, scampi, prawns and salmon which one would have thought would be individually distinguishable - not so! He did, however, agree that the chips were of a decent standard.


Excellent chips

Lunchtime view

Monday night found us in The Star Inn The Harbour which I like but find to be slightly inconsistent. Last time we were there we loved it, the time before it was good not great - which we assumed to be teething issues given that it had, then, not long been open. On this occasion, there was plenty to enjoy but a starter of squid, which cost £11 for a startlingly small portion left us feeling a little ripped off. Oh, and D found the apple sauce served with his pork belly and scallops to be overly sweet. I thoroughly enjoyed my halibut with a rarebit topping and candied walnuts but, again, the £24 price tag felt a little on the steep side.

Mimsy squid

Hmmm, what else? Oh, well, it feels a bit daft to pick out a tuna sandwich as a highlight since it’s one of the most ubiquitous fillings there is. But The Rusty Shears’ trick of adding chopped olives, red onion and gherkin to the mix really gave it a lift and is one I shall be copying at home.

A most excellent tuna sandwich

Sadly it was an all too brief trip and it is back to work tomorrow, but we have fish from a Whitby fishmonger still to enjoy for tea tonight...and a trip to Berlin on the not so distant horizon so it’s not all doom and gloom. Hope everything is well with all of you out there in Blogland. I will try and post more regularly between now and the end of the year (but I won’t promise because, well, pie crusts and all that... )

Foodie abroad: Venice (part 2)

I think the best thing to do in Venice is just to wander the streets and soak up the atmosphere. It’s a bit like being on a film set; at times it doesn’t feel real.

On the Wednesday, we struck out with the intention of tracking down Venice’s best cicchetti. Cicchetti is the Venetian answer to tapas: small dishes designed to be eaten with a drink. In the majority of cases we found this tended to be something-on-toast.

Our favourite was a simple whipped salt cod on toasted brown bread which we enjoyed with glasses of Soave seated next to one of Venice’s many canals (pictured top right). It’s not elaborate food, I don’t think that it is supposed to be.

D’s birthday meal aside (which I will get to shortly) Venetian food, in general, was characterised by its simplicity for me. We went to a lovely little wine bar cum bistro for dinner on the last evening and I had the most beautiful piece of grilled bream served with nothing more than a drizzle of olive oil and some simply cooked vegetables. It was perfectly cooked, perfectly seasoned and a wonderful celebration of a lovely piece of fish without any bells and whistles.

I liked Venice very much and the dinner at Il Ridotto will number as one of our best ever. But I did not find it to be a foodie destination in the same way as Paris or even Barcelona. It’s all about simple dishes served with bags of convivial charm in a location that feels slightly out of time.

Foodie abroad: Venice (part 1)

I actually wrote this post on Tuesday morning sitting outside the Doge’s palace but never got around to publishing it! Back home now and more travelling tales to follow.

It cannot be said that our introduction to Venice was an auspicious one. The night we arrived, the city was experiencing the worst flooding that it had seen in twenty years. Having made it successfully from the airport to the closest vaporetto stop to our hotel we then had to wade through several feet of water with our cases held up at waist height. For about ten minutes. In trainers. And then, once checked in, we had to wade down the road to get to a local restaurant. And sit there with water up to our ankles.

Luckily today, Tuesday, the flood waters have receded and things are back to normal but the scars, and the damp trainers, remain. So my first piece of travel advice is: if you happen to travel to Venice in a flood, be sure and pack galoshes in your hand luggage.

And my second is: if you fly from Leeds Bradford airport do NOT consider having lunch in the cafe bar there. Go and get a sandwich from somewhere else and repair to the bar for wine. Otherwise you end up paying nearly £15 for this:

The world’s most indifferent fish finger sandwich.

Luckily, dinner made up for it (wet feet aside). D went for a seafood spaghetti to start:

Delicious but not quite as delicious as my ravioli al giorno. I wish I knew what went into this - some sort of blue cheese, I think, but so light and creamy with a hint of acidity from the (presumably) beetroot dressing.

I followed this with fegato all Veneziana - Venetian liver and onions - with polenta. It seemed appropriate and it was lovely. The liver was perfectly cooked, the onions sweet and soft. I am not the biggest fan of soft polenta but it seems that it is the most traditional accompaniment so went with the flow and actually quite enjoyed it (although the Brit in me thinks mash would have been better!)

We hit a Michelin starred joint for D’s birthday meal tonight so hopefully will be back with more foodie tales soon.

Revisits - Ruby Hunt and The Star Inn the Harbour

On Monday, D and I celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary. And of course we did so by spending an entire weekend indulging our appetite for delicious food. We are consistent, at least, in our greed. It’s a shared obsession that is probably one of the primary reasons that we have managed to (more or less) stay together.

On Saturday night, we returned to our favourite restaurant of last year, Raby Hunt which is just outside Darlington. Holder of two Michelin stars it was a fantastic experience first time around (which you can read about here) and just as wonderful now. The only...I hesitate to use the word problem because it wasn’t the least bit problematic...was that many of the dishes on the set tasting menu were either the same or similar. As before, the signature razor clam with celeriac and almonds was a highlight:

And the kitchen’s pastry game is strong, especially when it comes to producing a chocolate and olive oil mousse which combines ethereal lightness with rich, cocoa filth:

But we both agreed that one of the nicest things we ate was, in fact, one of the few brand new dishes - a wagyu beef nigiri topped with sea urchin. Teapot, that was fabulous. The Japanese influence was, I think, a new direction for the kitchen and one I liked very much indeed:

It was a fantastic privilege to eat these amazing plates again but, given the plethora of other places out there which we are keen to try, and our limited funds, I would not be inclined to return for a good few years to allow time for a bit more variation to creep in. We discussed, as we drove away, whether one should prioritise the known and glorious or the unknown and potentially not-so glorious and reluctantly came down on the side of the latter. Although D intends to win the £110 million Euromillions Super Draw this week, at which stage it will become a moot point.

We then high tailed it across to Whitby, and Sunday found us on another revisit: The Star Inn the Harbour which I wrote about here.

Well, what a revelation. I don’t think it had been long open when we visited in April and the kitchen has really flourished since then. We liked it well enough last time round but this time a couple of dishes blew us away. A lobster and summer truffle mac and cheese was superlatively good:

And D was in raptures over his coley with a light curry sauce, declaring said sauce one of the nicest things he has eaten all year:

We will whisk a veil over a slightly over chilled dessert (we did feed back to the kitchen via our absolutely charming waiter) and say, rather, that overall we were seriously impressed and pleased to see that the wonderful produce from this corner of the Yorkshire coast finally has a restaurant that can do it proper credit.

Meal Plans and Mini Goals

A day late for an MPM post but yesterday was a Bank Holiday so I don’t think that it counts as a proper Monday. We had a lovely day here, a nice walk in the morning followed by a lazy afternoon and finally finishing off season 2 of The Good Place which I think is tremendously good.

Anyway, I’ve noticed that I am not quite as focused now as I was back when I first started which is, of course, to be expected but I’d like to ensure a bit of momentum is maintained so I’ve set myself a little mini goal. It’s our wedding anniversary on 17th September and we’re going away for the weekend to Whitby via Darlington – not quite so random as it sounds given that our sole stop off point in Darlington is The Raby Hunt, which bastion of culinary pulchritude we first visited last year. If I can be half a stone further closer to goal by the time we go, then I get a new outfit to wear (and, no doubt, to spill food on).

In general, I am very very anti setting “I must be x weight by y date” goals because we none of us can control the rate at which our bodies choose to shed the lard. We can do everything right but sometimes the scales just don’t budge and I don’t want my sense of achievement tied up with the arbitrations of such a randomly cruel being. However, I am keeping this casual and treating it as a little bit of fun and additional incentive to stay on track, stop allowing the odd day “off” to creep in and keep up with the exercise. If I don’t make it, then I still plan to stick on some glad rags, make my nails all sparkly and have a wonderful, indulgent few days away.

Onto the meal plan and the theme for the first half of the week is on a theme of “It’s pay day on Thursday.” Last night, this led to a slightly random salad and pasta bowl – roasted courgette with watercress, baby spinach and basil in balsamic dressing, pasta and peas tossed in watercress pesto with half a pack of goats’ cheese and red onion fiorelli bunged on top for good measure.

Today – eggs baked in spiced tomato and spinach sauce with toasted pitta for dunking.

Tomorrow – pan fried chicken breast in creamy mushroom and tarragon sauce, mashed potato, honey roast carrots.

Then on Thursday we celebrate the start of the month with a trip out to The Moorcock Inn – the online menu looks intriguingly lovely so I shall look forward to reporting back. And the weekend can be slightly more decadent because, wahey, we have money again.

Friday – trout with beetroot and horseradish (a bump from last week)

Saturday – mussels cooked with white wine, shallots and Bayonne ham, with a crispy pile of oven baked fries on the side

Sunday – still to be decided.

Have a good week all!

Summer in the city - a weekend round-up

I didn’t want to go down to London last weekend, I’ll be totally honest. I was nervous about being away from home – from D, from the cat, from familiar surroundings - and, bluntly, from my bathroom. I also did not want to have to spend a weekend guestimating points just a few days in to my newest and shiniest WW attempt.

I had more or less made up my mind not to go but D wasn’t having any of it. I don’t envy him much of the time; living with someone who is very anxious must be exhausting. You constantly have to be strong for them, to push them to overcome their entirely irrational fears. So I was effectively frogmarched on to the bus on Saturday morning – but, in the end, all was well and I had a lovely time and have come back with that new sense of confidence which comes from venturing outside the comfort zone. Thank you, D.

Of course, the fact remains that I have two days where my tracker may be way, way off. Well, actually, I think that I am fine for Sunday since we ate in and I was able to find all food items in the catalogue. I winced a bit that the innocent looking honey and seed rolls that we had for lunch turned out to be 9 Smart Points, but heigh-ho, that’s what weeklies are for.

Saturday night required a lot more guesswork, but whether I’m under or over, the meal itself was worth it. We went to a restaurant called Ember Yard in Fitzrovia and it was LOVELY - especially gratifying given that I suggested it. It’s a menu of small plates with a Spanish and Italian slant – some of the dishes are recognisable from the typical tapas repertoire, others not so much. Highlights included (surprisingly) chargrilled flatbread with thyme and smoked butter (so good we immediately ordered another) and a lovely special of sea bass with ajo blanco.

Seabass!

Bread!

I tried a little bit of everything, but stuck to water rather than indulging in wine or cocktails and then, in lieu of a dessert (tough going – the churros looked amazing) I ordered a double espresso and a single dark chocolate and Pedro Ximenez truffle (which item I thought was a really clever addition to the dessert menu). A divine full stop to the meal.

Truffle!

Also – if you’ll forgive me ditching the food talk for a minute – we went to the open air theatre in Regent’s Park, to see a production of “As You Like It” which was brilliant! Such a funny, sweet, silly rendering of the play, which I hitherto hadn’t considered one my favourite of Shakespeare’s comedies. The musical settings were a little bit cheesy but the cast carried them off with aplomb and the whole thing was an absolute joy. I’ve never seen a bad production there – and it’s a lovely venue if the weather holds out. If you’re London based and find yourself at a loose end, get thee hence.

After returning in such a good mood, I am not exactly sure what misguided impulse compelled me to jump on the bathroom scales yesterday morning. I haven’t weighed myself on them for a while, so I have no idea how my weight today relates to my official WI last Wednesday. If I was expecting to see a large drop after a whole four days of counting, I was doomed to disappointment. Not for nothing does lovely Peridot call them the Scales of Doom, because I immediately felt sulky and annoyed and resentful. The answer is clear – official weigh ins ONLY from now on and a focus on progress rather than perfection.

Rusty Shears, Whitby (my new happy place)

We took ourselves off to Whitby for a couple of days this last weekend. We booked it months ago to mark the date on which we first met (fourteen!!! years ago) but we never need very much excuse to travel across. It's the perfect place to relax, take deep breaths of chip-scented sea air and be a wee bit indulgent.

And if it is indulgence that you are after, alongside a side of whimsy and a good, stiff gin then look no further than Rusty Shears - a tea shop come House of Gin. Was there ever a more appealing combination?

It doesn't open in the evening, but the sign reassures customers that gin is served from 11am, and there is nothing guaranteed to make one feel more hedonistic than ordering gin and tonic with lunch (we waited till one o clock because spirits before noon does feel wrong). There is an absolutely massive selection - we managed to try five different ones across the course of two visits and still had barely scratched the menu's surface. Amongst them - a local gin brewed in someone's garage just up the road and a Scottish gin with a mere two botanicals (juniper and rosehip should you be interested). It was total ginvana.

But obviously sustenance is needed alongside and the menu of sandwiches, light bites and the most delicious homemade cake hit the spot perfectly. I jumped at the chance to order a Reuben on rye, a great personal favourite, and D opted for wild mushrooms on toast. Then we committed the grave error of treating ourselves to a piece of cake apiece. I say error; the cake was fantastic, sublime. My Guinness cake with a thick layer of lighter-than-air-and-sweeter-than-a-kitten's-purr frosting was perfect. D's maple pecan cheesecake was a delight. But all that sugar occasioned, unsurprisingly, quite the slump and we ended up staggering back to our room for a much needed post-cake nap. Still, that's what holidays are for, no?

There was nothing that I did not like about this place from the eccentrically nostalgic decor (Miss Marple after she'd hit the gin selection) to the enthusiastic and charming staff. Oh, actually. I'm sad about the fact that it isn't open in the evenings - we could absolutely have whiled away an entire evening and an awful lot of money there - and that it is in Whitby rather than Leeds. But perhaps, given how much I both gin and cake, it is all for the best.

Chips, cheese, chips and cheese

Heavy snow at the end of last week meant that we were slightly worried about the journey up to Mull. Luckily, the roads were clear but we were treated to stunning views like this:

It's been grey skies and rain for most of our time here; fortunately we don't come to Scotland for the weather. And, at last, this morning we have been treated to the clearest of blue skies and an island awash with winter sunshine.

As I mentioned in my last post, not much is open here. And the places that are open are offering somewhat limited menus. Which means for the last week we have basically been eating things accompanied by chips or covered with cheese.

On one occasion I ordered a macaroni cheese and it came WITH CHIPS. Just...why? Actually, the real question is why did I eat most of them...

I think it's safe to say that the 2.4 lbs I lost during the first two weeks of the year will be back on Monday and they may be bringing a couple of friends with them. Ah well. It's been a lovely, relaxing break but I am well and truly stodged out which means that I am positively looking forward to a couple of days of fasting next week (remind me of that when I'm drooping and moaning on Monday!)

A poor excuse for a meal plan

D rebuked me this morning for not posting this week's meal plan.  "How am I supposed to know what I'm going to eat?" he said. 

I didn't bother, mainly because:

a) there are only some many times you can write: "Fast Day - soup" without it being oppressively dull for all concerned and the entries for both Monday and Wednesday this week consist of "Fast Day - soup".

b)  we are going away on Friday so I don't know what, exactly, I'll be eating.  We'll be staying in Ecclefechan on Friday night so it will be something followed by Ecclefechan tart.  And we're having lunch in Oban on Saturday so likely fish will be consumed.  And Sunday night will either be a pub meal on Mull or the best of whatever the Mull Co-op has to offer.

c)  that just leaves two days of home cooking to plan.  And that didn't seem worthwhile.  But for what it is worth this is what we are having:

Tuesday:  Bang Bang turkey (only with chicken - using some leftover sauce from the Christmas batch and some leftover chicken which was located, lurking, in the depths of the freezer)

Thursday:  Cottage pie.  Brisket mince, again, from the depths of the freezer, stretched out with some veg and red lentils and topped with a blue cheese and chive mash.  Probably peas on the side because there should always be peas on the side of cottage pie (or shepherd's pie).

And there you have it.  You're welcome, D.

2017 - the year in review

And so, Christmas has been and gone and with it the final hurrah of 2017.  I spent most of the year’s dying days snuggled up at home doing little more than watching crap on Netflix and eating chocolate biscuits.  I weighed myself this morning; up 5lbs from the beginning of December which I am quite peaceful about considering that we abandoned 5:2 and any pretence of moderation right at the start of the month.  I am hoping to get most, if not all, of it shifted by the end of January.  Today sees me on my first fast day since…well, weeks ago, and there are even rumours that the Treadmill in the Garage will be grinding back to life very shortly.  As ever, I will keep you apprised.

Before we venture forth into 2018, as always, it is worth having a quick look back.  Firstly, weight loss and health matters – I committed to 5:2 at the start of the year on the basis that:

a) I still need to lose weight

b) Weight Watchers did not agree with me anymore – the constant counting and measuring and weighing and planning was, ultimately, not doing my mental health any good and

c)  Any other formal “diet plan” would likely be just as bad. 

5:2 seemed like the answer to the problem, in that it would require fierce commitment for 2 days of the week, but the rest of the time I could pootle along as I pleased. 

Well, it has worked in the sense that I am 2 stone down over the course of the year.  It’s not what you would call an amazing result, but it is a result nonetheless, and given the number of weeks where we’ve sacked off one or both fasts for reasons both spurious and genuine, I am pleased.  I have genuinely eaten well on non-fast days – aiming for moderation rather than restriction has really helped me develop a peaceful relationship with the food that I eat for the first time in my adult life. 

And talking of eating, D and I have agreed that some of our favourite ever meals were consumed in 2017.  We were lucky enough to visit several amazing restaurants and to pick a favourite is very, very difficult. 

The stand-out, in the end, is The Raby Hunt, which we visited at the beginning of November.  It has two Michelin stars and it is not London based – the conjuction of these two facts do tend to imply quality – but we have learned that Michelin stars do not always make for the best eating or for the best dining experiences (in our opinion.  Clearly not in the opinion of the mysterious Michelin inspectors who I fondly imagine cruising the country’s dining scene in pinstripe suits).  Raby Hunt, which I wrote about here, is just absolutely fabulous.  And the dish of razor clam and celeriac and almonds is probably, probably the best thing that I ate all year.

Razor clam and celeriac at The Raby Hunt

But there are honourable mentions to be made too: the thought of the lamb at Lake Road Kitchen in Ambleside still makes my mouth water all these months later.  And we had a last minute contender in the form of scallop with fermented celeriac at TheBlack Swan at Oldstead just the other week.  It’s rather odd – I didn’t even think that I liked celeriac that much, but in expert hands, it turns out that it is rather sublime.  I probably need to cook with it a bit more.  We also absolutely adored 64 Degrees in Brighton – another superlative lamb dish, this one served with gochujang.

Lamb at Lake Road Kitchen

Dessert of the year probably, again, goes to one of the offerings at The Raby Hunt, but I can’t help but remember with very great fondness the fabulous miso caramel ice cream that we ate at Skosh in York.

Miso caramel ice cream at Skosh

Our own home cooking has, naturally, encountered new influences and ideas throughout the year (gochujang and sushi rice are now both permanent fixtures in our storecupboard), but I honestly think that one of the nicest things that I made was this summery broad bean dip.  I am already looking forward to broad bean season rolling around again so that I can make this dip by the pint.

Broad bean dip at home

We managed to make a bit more use of our extensive recipe book library, but want to ramp this up for 2018 and are aiming to cook a new dish at least once a week.  What with that and plans to visit (among other places) Joro in Sheffield and Where The Light Gets In in Stockport, I think 2018 will shape up to be pretty damn fine itself.

Notes on Northumberland

We had a wonderful few days away at the start of this month, heading up to explore a little corner of Northumberland.  It's not a part of the world with which either of us are particularly familiar, despite it not being that far away - we do have a tendency to bypass the rest of England and make straight for Scotland when we head North.  But this year we decided to go for a bit of a change, particularly since we had already identified Raby Hunt as our Destination meal. 

We booked a few nights, on my Mum's recommendation, at The Red Lion in Alnmouth.  Prior to booking we knew nothing about Alnmouth and, having spent two nights there, can report that there is really not a lot to it.  However, The Red Lion itself is a great little place to stay.  It's a pub with rooms and, while the bar looks to be quite unassuming, it has a decent range of ales and proper Posh Crisps (always a good thing) while the kitchen turns out perfectly serviceable, albeit ginormous, dinners.  I had two starters on the night that we decided to dine there, and found that to be the right amount of food; D was unable to finish his main course risotto.  That aside, our room was gorgeous, with probably the comfiest bed I've slept in all year, and the breakfast was where the kitchen really came into its own - top notch, and cooked with far more care and attention than you often find in bed and breakfast venues.

Goat's cheese and vegetable stack at The Red Lion, Alnmouth

As I said, not an awful lot else to Alnmouth - basically, a single street with the sea at one end. However, on that single street, a couple of doors down from TRL was a rather sweet little fish restaurant which I would not have any issue recommending to you if you happened to be in Alnmouth and in need of something to eat.  Which is not to say I'd necessarily encourage a special trip.  But Hooked, for Hooked it was called, served up some very well cooked fish indeed - my hake and D's sea bass were both absolutely spot on.  Accompaniments were well judged and thoughtfully prepared.  Our waiter did magic tricks at the table.  There was sticky toffee pudding for dessert.  Such things are all calculated to make me happy.

Hake at Hooked, Alnmouth

Sea bass at Hooked, Alnmouth

When we mentioned that we wanted to go to Alnwick (primarily to visit Barter Books which is the most wonderful bookshop that I have EVER SEEN and which seems to make all bibliophiles go slightly misty eyed) a couple of people mentioned the Treehouse and, indeed, one look at the website convinced D that I would insist on visiting there for lunch.  Decor-wise, it is absolutely adorable if you are slightly twee at heart (I am).  Just outside the Alnwick Garden, it is all wooden walkways and blazing fires and twinkling lights - the fact that it is a popular wedding venue came as no great shock.  The food is fine but I think you're visiting (and paying slightly over the odds) for the ambience because they're not serving anything that a competent cook couldn't make at home. 

The Treehouse, Alnwick

The gardens, and the book shop itself are both fabulous though.  I loved our day in Alnwick.  I loved the next day, stomping along one of Northumberland's beautiful, pale stretches of coach, with Banburgh Castle looming up behind us.  We also managed to squeeze in a trip to the Holy Island, driving across a causeway that was barely out from beneath the sea.  There is obviously lots to explore round there, and it is an area with which I need to become better acquainted - particularly since I hope that there are some foodier finds to be made. 

Banburgh Castle

Raby Hunt, nr Darlington

Back in the days when D and I were young(ish) we used to turn to the Michelin guide a lot when picking restaurant destinations. I’ve always known what I like (most everything apart from rice pudding) and what I don’t like (rice pudding) when it comes to food, but when it comes to dropping a three figure sum on an experience, it’s as well to receive some wisdom and guidance.

As we’ve got older and fatter, we have become less driven to collect stars. And one of the reasons that we took agin them is the (to us) perceptible London bias. Despite the fact that I live in Yorkshire, I would always regard myself as a displaced Southerner, and, in general, roll my eyes at the chip on Northern shoulders when it comes to the national geographical divide. But I do concur that it seems to be far harder for restaurants outside the capital to trouble the hallowed pages of the Michelin guide and wonder if not all standards are created equal. Thus, when a restaurant in the wilds of the North East is awarded two stars we cannot help but take notice since it flies in the face of all our huffing and puffing.

And I can safely say that Raby Hunt, after a single, glorious dinner, has established itself firmly as one of my new favourite places to eat. Every single one of you reading this blog, wheresoever in the country you are situated (and I appreciate that many people live quite a long way away from Darlington) (and, in fact, some people don’t live in the UK at all so they’re even further away) need to get yourself over there. It’s not really handy for anywhere but that gives you an excellent excuse to stay over in one of the three, beautifully appointed, definitely not haunted rooms, and have a very good breakfast the next day.

The chef-proprietor, James Close, is not only self-taught but was, until the age of thirty, a professional golfer. In less than a decade he has marshalled a kitchen that prepares and sends out some simply extraordinary food which speaks of incredible instincts: an understanding of texture and flavour combinations that must be utterly innate. Much as I love dishes that fit within a shared culinary history, here, I really appreciated a sensibility that seemed unfettered by tradition. Flavour combinations were sometimes familiar, but sometimes absolutely not – the dish of razor clam with celeriac and almonds was nothing I had come across before and, on paper, doesn’t sound like it should work…and yet, in the eating was utterly extraordinary.

Pastrami sandwich

Razor clam, crab taco, mango and yuzu tart

Chocolate, black olive

Jay Rayner’s 2015 review of the restaurant mentioned that the food was not as definitively of its place as, say, a L’Enclume and I would agree with that…there was a hint of wanderlust to the menu with ingredients and influences both drawn from across the globe. Potentially confusing and cacophonous in the hands of a lesser kitchen but here, it felt mischievous and exciting. So a crab taco was served in the same parade of little dishes as a mini New York deli sandwich, a lamb ragu nestled within a crispy Kuzu basket (which we think is some sort of Asian starch), the final dessert (mango, yuzu and coconut tart) was full of tropical sunshine…and it all made perfect sense. And, really, it’s a peculiarly British habit to shamelessly annex tastes from around the world – we’re a nation of culinary magpies. So perhaps I was wrong to say that Close is unfettered by tradition – perhaps it is the nomadic aspect of our culinary heritage that he is embracing here.

We went with my parents and, around the table, struggled to reach consensus as to the best dish (although for my money the razor clam was the star of the show. Also, I want all my chocolate mousses to be served with a hint of fruity black olive from now on). Suffice to say, throughout the fifteen course tasting menu, there was not a single duff mouthful. But, as ever with these places, the service is as much a part of the experience as the food, and that was perfectly charming too. Favourite moment: my Mum wondered aloud what a yuzu looked like and one was produced from the kitchen. Second favourite moment: when D bemoaned the lack of bread available for mopping up the remainder of his lamb gravy, a basket was duly brought. You can be sure he returned the favour by sending back a plate so clean that no further washing was required.

With so many wonderful places to visit and explore, and finite resources at our disposal, we sadly don’t get to revisit favourite spots as often as we would like. However, there is absolutely no way that this will be my last visit to Raby Hunt. I am beyond excited to see what this chef, an absolutely shining example of modern British cooking, produces next.

MPM: 16th October 2017

Full disclosure - last week was not so much 5:2 as 6:1.  Although since we (and by we I mean D) cracked fairly late in the day on Thursday, total calorie consumption probably still came in at less than 1000.  I'm learning the art of moderation in my old age and am sometimes forgetting to eat for the sake of it.  Hurrah for personal growth.

This, plus the fact that I am currently Sober for October, led to a very pleasing 2lb loss this week.  3lbs more and I will be back down to this year's low, which occurred about a week after my operation when I was basically subsisting on copious cups of tea and the occasional biscuit. 

I'm not really talking about the Sober for October thing (it feels deserving of capitals for some reason) because I am sick of making proclamations on this blog and then failing and doing the written equivalent of falling flat on my face.  So, there it is, it's the 16th of October and I haven't had a drink so far this month but it's not a big deal and I promise not to mention it again.  Actually, on Saturday night I did accidentally eat a whisky caramel truffle so in the most puritannical of eyes, I've already blown it.  It was a really good chocolate though, and probably worth it.

Moving on to this week's meal plan.  I am away for work on Wednesday night in EDINBURGH and trying hard to be cool about it because D will be left at home alone to weep into his solitary supper.  Every other night finds us at home, and the plan looks like this:

Monday: fast day - soup

Tuesday: jacket potato with baked beans and cheese, salad, coleslaw

Thursday: bangers and mash with red onion gravy

Friday: spaghetti carbonara

Saturday: chicken Xacutti (a form of Goan curry.  We're making this using a Rafi's spice pack and have high hopes)

Sunday: roast pork belly with white beans, black pudding and braised red cabbage

Another 6:1 week (we decided that fasting on a day involving many hours of travelling would not work out too well.  Yes, it's an excuse.  Yes, we could have slotted in another day.  Yes, we are, in fact, rubbish).  Lots of comforting, autumnal type dishes, most of which are being sourced, in whole or in part, from our freezer so shopping is being kept to minimal levels. 

Have a lovely week les touts!

Lake Road Kitchen, Ambleside

Great cooking is, in my opinion, an art form – possibly unique in the fact that to be truly great it has to work across nearly all of our senses at any one time. Thus it is that when you are trying to assess an excellent meal, you have a certain amount of responsibility to try and separate the subjective from the objective. Except that when it comes to Lake Road Kitchen, I’m having real trouble because I loved it so much. It was one of those occasions where I felt that the chef and I obviously shared a sensibility with regards to food which meant that, with the exception of one dish which happened to be based around an ingredient that I don’t much like (sweetcorn), I adored everything – and even the exception I appreciated and admired.

The owner and head chef James Cross, as appears to be de rigueur these days, did a stint at Noma and the influence is exceedingly apparent: the ingredients are as local as possible with many coming from the restaurant’s own kitchen garden, others foraged from the local countryside (which, given that the place is in the heart of the Lake District is both beautiful and bountiful). The restaurant’s interior has a stripped back, Scandi feel – clean lines, pale colours, plenty of wood. But although the dishes often appeared to be similarly simple and even ascetic in their presentation, this was entirely deceptive and most ate as well as any food you will find in this country at the moment.

Hard to pick highlights, but I would walk back to Ambleside to eat the slow cooked octopus again. I have never had octopus like it – the slow cooking had enhanced the firm, meaty quality of the flesh before it was brought to life by a robust searing on the outside to give it texture and smoke. The fermented wild garlic puree accompaniment had us both swiping our finger around the plates to catch every drop.

I need to mention the lamb as well because I have genuinely never, ever had lamb like it. It was stunning. Herdwick, a local breed had been dry aged for 50 days (a technique more commonly applied to beef) to give a depth of flavour that I have simply never encountered before, not to mention a texture as silky as butter. The couple at the table next to us sent it back for being undercooked and, yes, the rack turned up at the table far rarer than is, perhaps, commonly seen but one mouthful would have confirmed to anyone that not a further second of cooking was required. It was utterly magical.

I’m often a bit anti modern puddings, being firmly of the opinion that the sticky toffee has yet to be bettered. But even here I was to be confounded – the buttermilk pannacotta with blackberries and foraged herbs was a perfect marriage of dreamily soft, barely set cream and the deep, darkly sour punch of fruit with sorrel, lemon verbena and chervil adding a completely new note that spoke of the autumn and the damp, delicate scent of the hedgerows. This almost has me convinced that pannacotta is a dessert worth ordering.

Lake Road Kitchen are only open Wednesday – Sunday and they only offer a tasting menu (five or eight courses with cheese supplement available). The menus change to make the best of the ingredients on offer, although we were told that they keep a note of what customers have eaten to ensure that when they return they get an entirely different set of dishes. This strikes me as above and beyond the call of duty, but is in keeping with the charming and extremely attentive service that we received throughout out time there. I honestly can’t recommend this place enough – the Lake District has always been somewhere to go to seek out culinary gems (L’Enclume, anyone?) and this is one of the shiniest that I have encountered so far.

Lake Road Kitchen
Lake Road
Ambleside
LA22 0AD
015394 22012

Home and Away

Hurrah for the weekend!  Especially hurrah for this coming weekend which will see D and I head for the beautiful Lake District to celebrate our sixth wedding anniversary.

Six years!  Yes, I know, I'm surprised too.  Of course, a year of that we spent apart so perhaps it doesn't really count (although given that we were the least separated separated couple ever I think there's probably an argument to be had either way).  But still, it's a good run and very deserving of a bit of a bash.

We're actually going to be having dinner on the day at the Lake Road Kitchen and I can't wait to report back to you on that.  The reviews have been glowing, everything I've read or seen about the food there has got me salivating - I think that we are in for a real treat.

Not only that, but we are staying at The Drunken Duck which I'm sure that I have written about before.  It's a fabulous place and also happens to serve fabulous food so I'm going to be ensuring that I save room for an excellent breakfast.  We might need to get out and do some brisk walking to work up a bit of an appetite, but given the part of the world in which we will find ourselves, that will be no particular hardship.

Closer to home, we went for a meal at one of our local gems the other week.  Zucco serves kind of Italian tapas stuff - very much in the vein of Russell Norman's Polpo chain, and we are so lucky to have it on our doorstep.  The pictures are of two of our favourite dishes - a salt cod ravioli which came strewn with sage and glistening with buttery, winey juices and a whole baby Dover sole, cooked to perfection and drenched in a gorgeous caper butter.  It's not pushing any culinary boundaries but it is the kind of food that makes you grin broadly and use your finger to wipe the plate.

Have a gorgeous weekend, folks, and I look forward to providing a full account of our adventures next week.

Polpetto, London

We're just back from a few days spent down South which was very nice indeed.  We got to spend time with friends and family and, of course, we made sure that we got to eat.  Although London has a distressing habit of encompassing far more nice restaurants than two people can possibly cover in a limited amount of time.  Sigh.

We decided to go to Polpetto and, in doing so, have now officially managed to have a meal at each of Russell Norman's London outlets.  I've been irritatingly enthusiastic about him before on numerous occasions - see here or here or even here.  Finishing the set has long been a cherished goal of my husband, who believes in completism (and, as such, is doing his best to visit every single Brewdog bar.  The fact that they've opened one in Brazil is a constant source of annoyance to him).

Anyway, Polpetto.  I'm not sure that I've much to add other than what I have said about Norman's restaurants before.  They're not high end dining, the decor tends towards slightly shabby whimsy, the staff towards the achingly cool.  The food is, in my experience, always delicious.

Whoever was cooking on Monday night was skilled in the art of perfect protein.  Grilled octopus skewers were the absolute highlight of the evening, the meat all at once dense and tender.  Ribbons of flank steak, tangled with aubergine and lamb's lettuce, melted on contact with the tongue.  Squid, thinly robed in batter and fried, had just the right amount of silky bounce.

Octopus!

Elsewhere there was a pizzete, the base bubbled and blistered, the top, liberally cheesed which is always a good thing.  And an orange semifreddo, liberally scattered with great, golden chunks of honeycomb which reminded me of the sophisticated lovechild of a Chocolate Orange and a Crunchie, There may have been plate licking.

Semifreddo

Sure, it's not setting the world on fire and since Polpo et al opened, the "small plate" dining experience has become somewhat ubiquitous.  I mean, we're even doing it in Yorkshire now. But it's all good stuff and I, for one, am very happy to hear that Polpo might be looking for a permanent home in Leeds.  It's the type of food that I will never tire of eating - honest, robust and tasty.

Polpetto
11 Berwick Street
London
W1F 0PL
020 7439 8627