The world opens...Foodie in Paris

I celebrated a big birthday during the first December of the pandemic. One of those big ones that end with a zero and mean, unless you're a better man than me, you feel like spending the day in bed drinking wine and weeping at the passing of time and general futility of existence. It was not a good time to celebrate a birthday although I have to say that my lovely husband and Mum and Dad pulled out a number of stops to make sure that the day was well marked. Still, we had originally planned to celebrate with a trip to Paris. And D was determined to make sure that we made it, even if a bit late. So it was, he colluded with the parentals, and arranged a surprise trip to take place in late January 22. When it came to it, it was a close run thing as to whether or not we'd be able to go given that the French borders didn't open until a couple of weeks before, but go we did and, just like that, the world (or, rather, my world) seemed to be a little more open again.

The Eiffel Tower...as seen from the Pont des Arts

I adore Paris and think it lays claim to being the most beautiful city in the world (although I am easily swayed). And, it goes without saying, that if you enjoy good food and wine it is an absolute embarrassment of riches - although always worth doing your research since, as with every major city, it is easy to fall into over priced and underwhelming tourist traps. D takes his holiday research very seriously, and we had a detailed itinerary which mainly consisted of restaurants and places to buy food.

Of the four main meals, we had one disappointment. Benoit, a one Michelin starred outpost of the Alain Ducasse empire, serves up proper, high end, classical bistro fare, of that there is no doubt. But it is expensive. The wine list is eye watering. And the service was lacking throughout to the extent that after a 90 minute wait, we cancelled desserts and demanded the bill (and had to do so three times before the message got through). Perhaps we caught them on a bad night (although we clocked that the tables around us did not seem to be having any issues) but we won't be returning. There are plenty other of places to visit.

Like Frenchie, which I think was probably my favourite new find of the trip and one I would urge you to seek out if you find yourself there. It's tiny - maybe twenty or so covers crammed into a limited space - and, historically, quite difficult to book. It's one of those places where you get what you're given but, as soon as the first dishes arrive, you don't care because you know you're in the safest of safe hands. 

We weren't even given a copy of the menu at the end, so I have to rely on my phone notes which mainly consist of exclamation marks and yummy words. I do know that our top dish was one of butternut squash gnocchi, sitting on a butternut squash puree and topped with a crisp crumb and a lardo emulsion. There were plenty of familiar flavours - squash, bacon, sage, garlic but it was the contrast of textures that really made the dish. The gnocchi had, I think, been pan fried after steaming so that, while soft and yielding in the middle, were almost toffee like on the outside. There was crunch and velvet, all in one mouthful. A really fine example of modern cooking, with a seasonal vegetable taking centre stage.

Squash!

The dessert also made for a very happy pair of gluttons - peanut sable, chocolate ganache, cocoa crisps, peanut ice cream and a touch of salted caramel. Yes, it was a high end Snickers. But again, it was the playfully contrasting textures that really elevated this classic combinations of flavours. We ate it mostly in silence and then D, surveying his empty plate, declared that a chocolate and peanut dessert is probably his favourite sort of dessert. Bold words. We seldom commit to favourites in our household.

Chocolate and peanut!

We also revisited a favourite venue from our last trip - the gorgeous Cinq Mars, which is located very close to the Musee D'Orsay, tucked away down a quiet, unassuming street. Another classic bistro but without an offensive price tag. Unfortunately, I can't find the website to link at the moment but a quick Google search will find it. The terrine starter is worth the trip alone (they bring along the serving bowl and allow you to help yourself. Suffice to say that D got through an entire basket of bread taking full advantage of this). 

Terrine!

The service was charming and the wine list comprehensive. It's really the kind of thing you (or rather I) imagine when I close my eyes and think about dining in the fictional Paris where the moon is always full and a plaintive accordion is always playing a few streets away.

Recipe corner: Gymkhana's tandoori lamb chops

Halfway through February already - the days are slipping by at a frankly alarming rate and I can't believe how long it has been since I last blogged. 

Excitingly, it is entirely possible that we have already had our top dish of the year thanks to a fabulously foodie short break in Paris (abroad!) However, up until this last weekend, I felt my cooking mojo had been somewhat lacking. Looking back over our archived meal plan for January, I'm a little surprised at how much we cooked actually because I definitely felt that it was all a bit meh. It could just be the January blues (pernicious blighters) and the fact that after the Christmas festivities, things are always a little bit flat. 

Anyway, early on in the month we had a sneaky short break down in London, primarily to see my family for the first time since before the pandemic. And it was wonderful. My brother and sister in law are fantastic hosts and I don't think I have ever eaten a better Spanish omelette than the one that V cooked us as part of a tapas spread. The children, my gorgeous nieces and nephew, had, unsurprisingly, changed enormously in the last two years, but were as fun as ever, and super tolerant of their aged auntie. We spent a brilliant day with them. And the icing on the cake was the fact that the night before we had a superlative dinner at Mayfair's Gymkhana, a restaurant I have been keen to visit for a long time.

We were not disappointed. If you like Indian food (we do) then this is a must-visit. We had the tasting menu which, I must admit, defeated us in terms of sheer quantity but the flavours and skilful balancing of spices had us in full on plate-licking mode initially (until we got so full we could barely move!) We'd love to go again and maybe order a la carte to manage capacity issues. 

The star of the evening were the tandoori lamb chops which, D declared, ruined tandoori lamb chops for him forever - and I quite agree. While the starting point was undoubtedly meat of the highest quality, luscious and tender and tumbling off the bone, the flavours of the marinade were fantastic - recognisable to the Western palate as "tandoori" but with a complexity that is lacking in your bog standard order-from-up-the-road. 

Unfortunately, Gymkhana's kitchen has yet to produce a recipe book BUT the recipe for the lamb chops is online - when I discovered this fact they went straight on the meal plan and we cooked them this weekend. They did not disappoint; the only real point of difference we could discern was the fact that we cooked them under our grill, so they lacked the note of char produced by a tandoor over; the next time we make them, we will be firing up the barbecue. I made a few little tweaks as I went along - exceedingly minor - but the original recipe, along with some other stunning looking dishes can be found here.

Some notes - this requires two marinades, the first overnight, so you do need to prepare in advance. Some ingredients are a little obscure - I bought the kasoori methi (dried fenugreek leaves) and mustard oil online. The original recipe called for red chilli powder; now I know that our chilli powder is EXCEEDINGLY hot and didn't want that here (it wasn't in keeping with the original). I also know that a smoked paprika / chilli powder combination is sometimes suggested as a sub for certain types of Indian chilli powder, so that is what I did. The resulting lamb had a tingle but was not overwhelming; if you like chilli heat then you may wish to adjust my quantities upwards. Oh, and, goes without saying - use the best possible meat you can for this because that really is the bedrock of the dish.

Ingredients

8 lamb cutlets (or 1 8 bone rack of lamb)

First marinade:

Tbsp salt

3 fat cloves of garlic

2 inch (approx) piece of root ginger

2 tsp chilli powder

2 tsp smoked paprika

Tbsp kasoori methi

Small red onion, crushed with a mallet or rolling pin

Second marinade:

Tbsp salt

3 tsp chilli powder

3 tsp smoked paprika

7 tbsp Greek yoghurt

2 fat cloves of garlic

Inch (approx) pieces of root ginger

2 tbsp garam masala

2 tbsp mustard oil

Serves 2 greedy people (with sides)

Assemble your first marinade. Make a garlic and ginger paste: crush or finely grate the garlic, weigh, and then grate on an equivalent weight of root ginger and squish together with the flat of a knife. Bruise whatever remains of the ginger with whatever implement you used to crush the onion.  Combine the paste and the whole ginger with the other ingredients and add the lamb, mixing well and ensuring the lamb is well coated in spice. You may wish to do this in a large plastic bag rather than a bowl. Refrigerate, covered, (or in the bag) overnight.

Assemble your second marinade, making the garlic and ginger paste as before and this time discarding any of the ginger that you don't use. Combine the paste with all the other ingredients and then, in goes the lamb. Marinate for a further six hours or so.

To cook - grill (or barbecue), turning every few minutes until the centre of the cutlets has reached around 58 degrees (this should give you a medium result which is perfect for this dish but, of course, cook for longer if preferred).

The Food Wot I Ate - a 2021 retrospective

2021 was the year that started with a lockdown and ended with not-a-lockdown-but-most-of-us-choosing-to-stay-indoors-anyway. It did a good impression, in parts, of being normal but it really wasn't. It was the year where many of us queued up like dutiful citizens to get not one, not two but three jabs in the hope it would grant us freedom but then realised that freedom was slightly scary. A funny old time.

In the latter half of the year, as reflected in my occasional blog posts, D and I tried to get back into the swing of eating out and we were rewarded with some absolutely fabulous meals. Whether it was because after twelve months of home cooking and takeaways the novelty of restaurant food triumphed over all critical faculties, or that the restaurants we visited were just that good it is impossible to be entirely sure, but we were blessed with some truly superlative dishes. And I haven't even told you about our trip to Roots yet at the back end of the year, where Tommy Banks's team is doing fantastic things on the banks of the River Ouse.

It's been tough to narrow it down, but there are definitely a few dishes that deserve an extra special mention:

Starter / Snack of the year:

It faced stiff competition, but the "prawn toast" at Lake Road Kitchen wins the day. A heady combination of fresh, bouncy prawn, garlic butter and a crispy brioche coating. The whole table could probably have just sat and eaten a bucket of these and been perfectly content. Nothing outlandish going on with the flavours and ingredients, but flawless execution shows that it isn't always necessary to push boundaries - garlicky, buttery seafoody goodness will always be a pleasure to eat.

Bread of the year:

Not just of the year but probably ever - the brioche at Raby Hunt has to be tasted to be believed. It really says something that in a magical multi course tasting extravaganza, the bread course is still the memory that really lingers. Special mention, though, to Roots where the warm sourdough was served with what they described as "cheese custard" and I will describe to you as "grown-up Dairylea". Yum.

Meat / fish of the year:

Often, the meat and fish courses on a menu are slightly less exciting than the beginning and end of the meal - don't you think? The snacks and starters and desserts are where much of the innovation and fireworks tend to take place. I say that - but then, am reminded with a smile of the amazing lobster ravioli at Raby Hunt, or the doughnut stuffed with venison and damson jam at Roots. Still, the stand out for me is, I think, the amazing lamb shoulder at Le Cochon Aveugle. A buttery potato pancake, topped with shredded lamb, yoghurt and black garlic. I might be a little biased, since lamb is my absolute favourite meat to eat, but this was a really high quality piece of cooking.

Cheese course of the year:

D and I absolutely love it when restaurants do something a little different for the cheese course. I mean, we love it when we're presented with a big cheese trolley as well (who isn't?) but it's exciting to see something else - and the soufflé at Raby Hunt is the perfect case in point. The vin jaune sauce and walnuts added different flavour notes and textures but the star of the show was the fluffy, cheesy cloud trembling in the middle - at once both incredibly light and fearsomely rich. Bliss.

Dessert of the year:

Again, in the face of stiff competition, Lake Road Kitchen triumphs here for me. I still think about that Savarin-Brillat cheesecake on a fairly regular basis. Simple - a plain cheesecake and a couple of fruity twiddles - but perfect. A special mention, though, to Inver's rice pudding which...well, suggested to me that maybe rice pudding isn't the worst thing in the world after all but that in the right hands can be a lovely, lovely thing. Well played, Inver.

Home cooked dish of the year:

Like all good (obsessive) foodies, we keep records of what we cook and eat and scrolling back through 2021 I can see lots of comfort food type dishes on there which is probably indicative of our state of minds whether we realised it or not. We don't very often cook the same dish regularly, which suggests that Diana Henry's teriyaki salmon was a real favourite (made twice within the space of a month). I also recall absolutely swooning over the smoked haddock hash that we made at the start of the year and then never got around to repeating - definitely one to have again soon. However, I think the most representative dish of the year must be the humble meringue. Since lockdown #1 D has been making all the household mayonnaise from scratch and, as a result, I have been regularly making meringues to use up the surplus egg whites. We eat them with Chantilly cream and whatever fruit we happen to have to hand, and they have been one of the great simple pleasures of the year. Not one that I appear to have taken a photo of though - so please accept a picture of the cat instead, enjoying her dish of this and every year, chopped fresh prawns. 

New year, same old foodie

I sometimes find it hard to believe that I've been burbling away to myself in this little corner of the internet since 2010. So much has changed in that time - and, as the saying goes, so much has stayed the same. Last year was the lowest volume of posts since the blog began, and I think the majority of those were talking about meals we ate out. And I still haven't told you about our trip to Roots in December. 

I won't make any promises to blog more -I've given up on anything vaguely resembling a New Year Resolution. But it would be nice to keep this ticking over, if just because it is a lovely thing to look back on and enjoy foodie memories, whether they be at home or abroad. 

I hope all of you out there in the ether had the happiest, most peaceful of Christmases and wish you all the best for 2022, whatever that means for you. I'll be back soon to do a rundown of some of my top eats of 2021. Please try not to fall off the edge of your seats.

Ricepe corner: A lightly spiced, buttery onion pilau

Let's talk rice. If I had to put my carbs in order of preference (and this is the kind of game that D and I play regularly) rice would tend to come near the bottom of the list but I love rice, I just tend to think I love bread and pasta and potatoes more. And then I eat some really nice rice and feel terrible for maligning it so. 

We had this rice with a very delicious lamb bhuna on Saturday night. I would share a picture, but I am terrible at food photography when the food is attractive, and we all know that there is nothing attractive about a plate of curry (taste aside, of course). Here is a picture of my cat instead:

She is playing in a large cardboard box here because, as any fule kno, cardboard boxes exert some sort of weird, magnetic pull on our feline friends and they tend to want to climb into them. Or, in this case, turn them into their own private fort (it was a very large box).

Anyway.

A very basic recipe (or ricepe - ha, ha) to be sure, but I like having a record of the basics. Especially side dishes - because it is attention to detail that can really make a meal. And while there is certainly nothing wrong with plain steamed rice, it's hard to get excited about.

Often, when we serve rice with a curry or a chilli, we just fork through some of D's famous green stuff (chilli and coriander chutney) which is a really quick way of taking things up a notch. But it's also nice to have a simple pilau recipe to hand to mix things up a bit - the spices are mellow and subtle and, of course, plenty of butter makes it rich and luscious.

I'm going to be honest - I think I've said this before - I just don't bother to soaking and rinsing my rice. I had a phase of doing it but I didn't really get much of a difference and it involves a) additional faff (not great for such a lazy individual) and b) being ORGANISED (which I am very much not). Hey, I know my (many and varied) limitations. Maybe I'm not doing soaking and rinsing right? 

I think this recipe originates from a blog and I can't remember which one so...apologies. I really need to remember to quote sources when I note stuff down. And, of course, Googling pilau rice doesn't really help. 

Ingredients

Tbsp vegetable oil

30g butter

Small onion, finely chopped

Tsp cumin seeds

Tsp turmeric

4 cardamom pods - lightly crushed so that the seeds are released

1/2 cinnamon stick

2 bay leaves

150g rice

225ml vegetable stock (you may need slightly more, so maybe make up 300-350 mls).

Heat the oil and half of the butter in a large pan which had a well fitting lid. Keep the heat nice and low so that when you add the onion it starts to soften and go translucent rather than colouring. Cook for around 5 minutes until soft. 

Add the dry spices and cook for a further couple of minutes until they have lost that slightly "raw" smell, then stir through the dry rice so that it is thoroughly coated in everything.

Pour in the stock. You want it to come about half a centimetre over the surface of the rice. Bring everything to a simmer and then put on the lid, turn the heat down to its lowest setting and set a 7 minute timer.

When the timer goes, turn off the heat and leave for a further 5 minutes without removing the lid.

Fluff the rice with a fork and melt through the other half of the butter. Discard the pods, stick and leaves before serving.

Foodie abroad: Gilpin Spice and Hrishi

Why yes, this does appear to have turned into an eating out blog. I am going to continue to maintain that it is just over excitement after months of captivity lockdown. And, also, we want to pump money into the catering industry. And, also, greed.

But for once there was an actual occasion at home - my beloved D's birthday (no, the beloved is not ironic. Stop laughing). And we booked a two night stay at The Gilpin, a gorgeous country house hotel situated just outside Bowness, way back at the beginning of the year. A different time, when booking a hotel and a restaurant still seemed like an odd (or certainly optimistic) thing to do. We actually stayed there before, many, many, years ago, back when it was called Gilpin Lodge and the restaurant produced the kind of lovely, elegant, slightly unassuming food served in many a country house hotel up and down the country. And very nice it was too. But it's had a bit of a revamp since then and now boasts two restaurants: Hrishi, the Michelin starred flagship, and Gilpin Spice.

The current head chef, Hrishikesh Desai, was apparently recruited via a BBC 2 programme. Although that is not to say that he is a wannabe Masterchef contestant - this chap's CV is STELLAR. An adjective which could certainly be applied to the food that he is producing through both of his outlets. 

Gilpin Spice first - we first read about this in a Jay Rayner review and have been wanting to visit ever since. It is fusion food as it should be - which is to say that while it draws from diverse culinary influences (most notably Indian and Chinese) everything tastes as if it belongs, perfectly, indubitably, inevitably, together. D was obsessed by the pani puri, tiny crispy cups filled with chickpeas and spice and tamarind:

Whereas for me, I couldn't decide whether the torched salmon in a delicate sauce of coconut and mustard seeds and turmeric was the star of the show:

Or the fabulous Singapore Paneer fry which saw the bouncy paneer thriving in a slightly sweet, slightly chilli-hot sauce alongside lots of crunchy vegetable friends. I want to re-create this at home.

Minor gripes: it's quite difficult to order the right amount of food, which is often a problem with restaurants that do sharing plates. We had two snacks, two small sharing plates and then two large sharing plates with another small plate (aloo tikki: delicious crisp-fried balls of spiced potato) in lieu of a side. This was about in line with what they recommended and it felt like too much. A pork belly large plate was just too big a portion which is not something that I say very often when it comes to pork belly. It's a shame, as it meant skipping dessert. Another thing that I do not say very often.

Also, I can't comment much on the restaurant interior because we were seated in a side room away from the main dining area and open kitchen. We felt a bit out of the way, which I am sure was not the intention; many people would have preferred the intimate space. But if I were to go again, I'd want a seat closer to the action. 

The following day we (wo)manfully managed a light breakfast but then made a tactical decision to eschew food for the rest of the day which I would recommend if you are foolish brave enough to try and tackle both restaurants in a single trip. Especially if, like us, you decide to spend most of Saturday reading and drinking coffee in the hotel lounge rather than yomping up hills. Look, it was raining, and in my wing backed arm chair, novel in one hand and delicate china in the other, I felt like a character in an Agatha Christie novel. 

Hrishi is, basically, a cross between Gilpin Spice and the aforementioned unassuming country house hotel fare. It was beautifully presented, very refined but with hints of spice and fusion creeping in, sometimes in unexpected places. Pani puri made a re-appearance, this time reimagined with cured cod, soya, honey and lime. (I suspect that D would have eaten far more of these if given the chance):

A scallop dish which served up the mollusc, both seared and ceviche, bathed in an orange, ginger and chilli dressing full of zing and allusions of spice. This was a firm favourite - I particularly loved the addition of the toasted hazelnuts and will steal this idea the next time that I cook scallops.

But the undoubted star of the show was the chicken with Chetinnad sauce and a gorgeous crispy package stuffed with leg meat, fruit and nuts. It's quite unusual to see chicken as a main course, but it rose magnificently to the occasion here, the perfect vehicle for the stunningly spiced, rich sauce, the welcome sour of the tamarind gel providing a perfect additional dimension.

I must also note here that the wine tasting menu, although costly, was one of the most interesting that we have had for a while - lots of unusual choices including a Romanian Feteasca Regala which we adored. It's never cheap to go for matching wine, and sometimes it just isn't quite worth it, but I'd definitely recommend pushing the boat out here. With the complex spicing going on in some of the dishes, it's well worth having an expert guide you on good accompaniments.

Again, the most minor of gripes: our waiter seemed genuinely put out when we asked for a cheese course. It didn't appear to be the done thing here at all. And the cheese itself was fine but not the most exciting offering in the world - I think that the restaurant has other priorities and that is fair enough. 

A fabulous two days worth of food and drink then - and all in the nicest, most civilised of settings. It's always exciting to eat the food of a chef who is creating a style that is entirely his own, and I look forward to stalking the Gilpin Spice menu and Instagram to steal ideas for dishes to recreate at home. The competition for The WW Foodie Dish of the Year (a prestigious award indeed) remains hot stuff.

Gilpin Hotel & Lake House

Crook Road

Windermere

LA23 3NE

Foodie abroad: return to Raby Hunt

You will have noticed that there have been quite a few posts recently about eating out. You might be forgiven for thinking that D and I have been eating out a lot recently; you would be right. After eighteen months of home cooking and takeaways, getting back out into the world of restaurants and multiple courses and wearing something other than pyjamas to eat has been extremely gratifying.

A couple of weeks ago, we were lucky enough to be treated to a meal at one of our old favourites, Raby Hunt just outside Darlington. We've been there a couple of times before - most recently in 2018 - and the menu has definitely evolved a bit since then to make it EVEN MORE FANTASTIC. Yes, I am shouting. That's how good it was.

As always, practically impossible to pick a highlight in the menu which heaved with influences from across the globe all delivered with the utmost of refinement. I think the majority of the party favoured the snack type dishes at the beginning - the tempura prawn has to be seen (and crunched) for the batter to be believed and the pastrami and foie gras sandwich was out of this world (and has potentially ruined all future pastrami sandwiches for me).

Tempura prawn!

Pastrami sandwich!

A frankly sinful brioche was served with the most glorious French smoked salt butter (you can buy it here - I'll be getting some in for Christmas). It was one of the nicest bread courses I think that I have ever had and I would walk back there to eat it again.

Brioche! Butter!

The chef's signature razor clam, celeriac and almond dish was still on the menu and, if anything, even more buttery and luxurious than before. I just adore this combination of textures and flavours.

Razor clam!

And another shellfish course - the lobster ravioli with sauce Americaine - was a particular favourite of mine (and I may have been caught in a sneaky finger-swipe-and-lick to ensure that not one drop of the fabulous sauce was left for the dishwasher).

Lobster ravioli!

Desserts require special mention as well. My goodness, but we have had some brilliant desserts this year. Here, we were served an amazing millefeuille with chocolate and hazelnut cremes - my Dad described this as tasting like a Ferrero Rocher and he's not altogether wrong.

Mille feuille!

And finally a Baba au Kirsch. I'm not always a big fan of boozy puddings (I like my booze in a glass, thank you) but this had just the hint of a kick tempered by the rich chantilly cream and the texture of the sponge was pure velvet.

Baba au Kirsch!

What made this experience even more special (and thank you to my lovely Mum and Dad for being kind enough to treat us) was that we were at the Chef's Table, which meant eating while watching the kitchen at work. For food obsessives like us, this is the equivalent of a backstage pass and we (well, I) was quite giddy. And we had a brief word with executive chef James Close at the end, who  recommended to us a Mexican restaurant in Durham which we will go and check out in due course.

Yet another fantastic experience then - 2021 is shaping up, in its latter half, to be a veritable embarrassment of riches in terms of dining out.. As D pointed out to me as we drove away the next morning, replete and a little bit sleepy, it's going to make picking my dishes of the year an incredibly hard task. What a lovely, lovely problem to have.

Foodie abroad: return to Inver

It's been less than a year since I last wrote about Restaurant Inver and I don't wish to repeat myself, but I can't allow the meal that we had there a fortnight ago to not go unmarked on this blog which, aside from anything else, is a much loved personal record for D and me of great food and great memories. As far as food and memories go, this last trip to Inver, the little restaurant on the shores of Loch Fyne, was up there with some of the best.

Full disclaimer: we were there to celebrate our tenth (tenth!) wedding anniversary. We were predisposed to be happy. We had a bottle of champagne in the room before dinner. And, as I've pondered fairly recently - has lockdown deprived me of any critical faculty I ever had with regards to eating out? I feel like I've been very effusive of late! But I stand by my assertion that Inver is one of my very favourite places to eat, and I think it is getting better every time we go. 

We started with cocktails and snacks in the cosy bar area, the best of which was some tiny cockles, suspended within their shells in a zingy lemon and fennel jelly. Although a special mention should also go to the miso hazelnut dip that accompanied the raw vegetables; anything that has D tucking into raw veg is worthy of note. Sometimes the “snack” section of a tasting menu can be substantial such that you arrive at the meal proper wondering if you have the capacity for anymore. Inver have got the knack of preparing perfectly judged morsels that deliver on flavour, texture and interest without taking up too much precious room.

 

Cockles!

And for said meal proper, we moved to the dining room, to a table looking out over the darkening loch and an offering of sourdough that was crunchy of crust and springy of bread. Perfect for dunking in the first course (one of my favourites): a tomato broth with cumin seed butter. Now I am never one for a soup course, but this was an absolute flavour bomb – buttery, rich, a hint of elusive spice and sweet-sour notes from the tomato.

And there were more treats to follow – D’s favourite course of torched mackerel with nasturtium and a loose textured, deeply savoury venison sausage which popped up on the main were particular highlights. But then we came to pudding.

Mackerel!

Now, I am not a fussy eater. There are very few things in the world that I truly dislike and would struggle to eat. But among those things is rice pudding. I just cannot get on board with rice pudding. It makes me shudder just to think about it. With a tasting menu, you accept that you just have to eat what you are given (allergies aside) but my heart sank a little when I saw that we would be having a fig leaf and ricotta rice pudding with fig and walnut and burnt honey sorbet (honey! Another ingredient that isn’t at the top of my favourites list.) D was so convinced that he would have to manfully plough his way through two desserts that he eschewed the cheese course.

In retrospect, this was a real shame. It turns out that when rice pudding is as light and creamy as this, and sits on top of a rich compote of figs and walnuts that is redolent of all of the spices of Christmas, and there is a crunch of toasted coconut on the top, and a sorbet tastes like the very best honeycomb, then it turns out that I like it. As D pointed out, the texture of the rice pudding itself was atypical – we think the rice had almost completely broken down as the texture was quite silky. As part of the whole, it worked beautifully. I’m not going to call myself a rice pudding convert because I think very few rice puddings will ever present and eat like that. But it was an absolute dream of a dessert in terms of marrying wonderful textures and flavours and I have seldom been so happy to be proved wrong.

Rice pudding!

Other notes: we think that Inver used to do a matching wine flight but that appears to have been knocked on the head, which is not really the end of the world since the wine list is thoughtful both in range and price points. We are both bitterly regretful that we missed out on not only the cheese course but the marvellous picnic breakfast the next morning (we had to leave early to catch a ferry and the kitchen very kindly did us a sandwich lunch to take with us which was really above and beyond). If you find yourself here, do NOT make our mistakes.

And I hope that someone that comes across this blog entry does make the trip because it is well worth it. Look out over the loch, eat tremendous food and enjoy this most wonderful of havens secure in the knowledge that even if your least favourite dish in the world pops up on the menu, there is a pretty good chance you will be licking the plate and exclaiming in joy and re-examining all your preconceptions. I promise.

Recipe corner: Creamed spinach

As mentioned on Monday, I have recently added this to my rotating repertoire of side dishes for a roast (roast potatoes are the only fixed point, everything else is up for grabs. Controversial?) This is SUCH a simple dish but a fabulous accompaniment. Because the flavours are mellow (the Parmesan is really a seasoning, so it’s not particularly cheesy - just fabulously savoury) it would go with most things. And it is so soft and comforting, I can quite imagine just eating a bowl of mashed potato with this spooned on top with an extra cheeky shower of Parmesan. 

Ingredients

15g butter

15g plain flour

150ml milk

Scant teaspoon of English mustard

10g Parmesan cheese, finely grated

Shallot, finely chopped

Bag of baby leaf spinach (c. 120g)

Knob of butter, splash of rapeseed oil

Nutmeg

Serves 2, as a side

Melt a knob of butter and a splash (just a teaspoon or so) of oil over a very low heat. When the butter is just melted, throw in the shallot. Add a pinch of salt to help it sweat and then cook it, slowly, until soft and translucent. This dish is about softness, so be sure to cook until all hint of crunch is removed.

Add the spinach leaves, still keeping the heat low, and then cover. Cook, covered, for five minutes or so, stirring occasionally and wonder as the spinach wilts to practically nothing. Remove the lid and continue to cook until any visible liquid has disappeared. At this point season - you won’t need too much salt, but add a good grind of black pepper and a generous grating of nutmeg. I went for about a quarter of a small nut as I wanted a real whack of nutmeg flavour, but go slowly if you’re not sure - it’s heady stuff. Remove the spinach mixture from the pan and set aside.

Turn the heat up slightly (so now medium low) and then we’re making a standard roux. You know the drill: melt the butter then stir in the flour to create a pale, golden paste. Pour the milk in, a third or so at a time, stirring briskly on each addition to ensure a smooth sauce. Once all the milk has been added, lightly season (remember you already have well seasoned spinach), stir through the mustard and bubble the sauce, gently, for a couple of minutes. Taste, to ensure all the flour taste has been cooked out. Remove from the heat and melt through the Parmesan. Finally, add the spinach back to the sauce and combine well.

Bake in a hot (180 fan) oven for 25-30 minutes, until golden and bubbling. I would suggest covering it for the first half and then removing the lid / foil for the remainder, but I have a beast of an oven. If you’re having it as part of a roast dinner (for example) it a good one to prepare in advance and just whack in to bake alongside potatoes et al.

Back to skool

Well, we've just returned from a lovely couple of weeks in Scotland and the gloominess of the weather here this morning couldn't have matched my mood more if it had tried. I love a bit of pathetic fallacy. It's been an extremely chilled out fortnight - not doing loads, but pottering, eating (of course) and, er, book buying. When you come back from holiday with nine more books than you left with, you may well have a problem. But, in my defence, Bookcase in Carlisle was an absolute bibliophile's dream. And I was supporting the local economy in Tobermory by picking up a few there as well...(we won't mention the fact that D and I also made a little pre-holiday trip to Waterstone's the day before we left because that would just make me look like some sort of addict).

The highlight of the trip from a food perspective had to be another meal at the very wonderful Inver which I may well cover in a separate post. But after nearly a fortnight of no real cooking, it was glorious to be back in the kitchen yesterday and we had that homeliest of homecoming meals: roast chicken with various trimmings including a simple creamed spinach that I will share with you (and my future self for posterity).

September (I know it's nearly over, but let me claim it still) is always a good time for fresh starts and while we were away, D and I talked a bit about lifestyle changes that I feel I need to make. Long term readers of this blog will know that I have never, never been a fan of exercise but the sedentary lifestyle occasioned by near permanent working from home, not to mention the fact that I turned 40 at the end of last year, means that any meagre fitness I ever had seems to be slipping away and there is absolutely no excuse for it. The only time I've ever really enjoyed exercise was years ago when I was a member of a gym - I like classes and I love swimming - so I've screwed my courage to the sticking place and arranged for an introductory session at a local club this week. The chap on the phone asked me to describe my current fitness levels. I could only pause before laughing and saying "Pants". I hope they like a challenge. It won't be cheap but I can afford it and I should be investing money in this sort of thing - i.e. myself, my health, my future, rather than continuing to create the UK Book Mountain in my living room.

And as a further incentive, I have booked a personal styling consultation at the beginning of December as a little Christmas present to myself. I randomly saw an Instagram reel of this gorgeous, plus size woman extolling the virtue of tucking your top in (yes, really) and when I looked at her profile I saw that she worked as a stylist and personal shopper in the Leeds branch of John Lewis! So again, courage screwed, I booked a slot. I'm in desperate need of a little push to get me out of tracksuit bottoms and loungewear. And I should have a couple of months of gym-going under my belt by then - enough to make a bit of a difference in confidence if not in shape.

Thus - and let us come back to the pathetic fallacy - as the sun has appeared in the last hour, so am I feeling a wee bit better about the fact that the holidays are gone and winter is coming. Life plods on but there is still much to look forward to.

Local heroes

We went to the last day of the Harrogate Food Festival last week, feeling that as self-proclaimed foodies it was the kind of thing we should be doing on a bank holiday weekend. We failed to take into account that we neither of us like crowds, or uncomfortable plastic chairs, or paying over the odds for things - this could have proved unfortunate. As it was, one overpriced chicken gyro aside, we had quite a pleasant time, aided by a couple of excellent gins. 

The festival was taking place in the grounds of Ripley Castle so we decided to treat ourselves to a night in Ripley at the Boar's Head Hotel, which I remember visiting a few times when we first moved to North Yorkshire and always enjoyed. Gentle reader, while I would not hesitate to recommend the hotel to you (reasonably priced, a beautiful room and some of the most comfortable pillows ever) the hotel restaurant was a bitter disappointment. Can't fault the staff but the food was...not good. I really hope that this is a temporary blip due to the current problems in the hospitality industry, and that the bone dry chickpea fritters with a side of pallid boiled potatoes and crunchy mange tout is not typical.

A relief, then, to find that another old favourite in that part of the world, The General Tarleton in Ferrensby, appears to be going from strength to strength. We went on Saturday night for the tasting menu and thoroughly enjoyed it; not least, at £55 per head (and £55 for the matching wine flight which was poured with an extremely generous hand by the charming waiter) it was remarkably good value for money.

Not necessarily pushing at culinary boundaries, nevertheless, the kitchen was turning out well executed plates of delicious, crowd pleasing food. From the dinky little lobster bonbons, pleasingly crisp and sweet, via a plate-lickingly good beef tartare, and a divine chocolate and raspberry torte, this was all excellent stuff and I would whole heartedly recommend it should you ever find yourself sort of Harrogate way and want to be soothed by good, honest cooking and friendly service.

Bonbon!

Beef!

Chocolate!

Next week, fingers, toes and eyes crossed, we are off to Scotland for a couple of weeks and I will do my best to keep you updated with any particular food highlights, although given that the first night away will be spent in Carlisle (don't ask...) I can't necessarily promise too much!

Le Cochon Aveugle, York

For many years, D and I lived very happily in the beautiful city of York and even though it hasn't been home now for nearly a decade, I still feel my heart squeeze a little in my chest when I go back for a visit. There is something about this ancient city that is utterly timeless; so although when we went last weekend it was the first time we had set foot there for two years, it felt as familiar and comforting as popping down the road. Not that it has been without its changes and casualties - looking more closely at the shopfronts that sit beneath the stone facades we saw that several dear old friends have gone, including the little shop where I bought my wedding ring.

We try not to take it too personally that, since we left, the food scene appears to have improved several fold. It's almost as if they were waiting for us to go. In the recently released Top 100 UK Restaurant Chart, York had no fewer than three entries which is a massive change from back when we were banging the drum for the under appreciated J. Baker's and complaining about the dearth of other options. We still haven't made it to Roots (by Tommy Banks of Black Swan at Oldstead fame) but can confirm that the other two, Skosh and Le Cochon Aveugle are both excellent. And, selflessly doing our bit to support the hospitality industry (how long do you think we can use that excuse??), we made our way over to the latter for lunch.

This comes across as quite a serious restaurant on the website - a blind tasting menu, no substitutions, no children, turn up on time, sit quietly and do as you're told. But don't be concerned; the experience is far more relaxed than this might lead you to believe - with smiley, friendly staff and an elegant-but-not-stuffy dining room.

Yes, you have to eat what you're given with no prior warning, which I know is not for everyone, but you are in good hands here. The influence is broadly French classical but many of the courses are lighter, fresher and draw more from the natural landscape than this might imply. A tomato water, infused with basil and cucumber and drizzled with the most exquisite olive oil was the perfect way to wake up our taste buds at the start of the meal...

...while a scallop ceviche with lemon and seaweed ice and elderflower vinaigrette showed again a real knack for balancing bright, zingy flavours.

At the other end of the spectrum, we fell in love with the boudin noir macarons. The boudin was soft, iron rich and full of spice and contrasted amazingly well with the crisp, sweet macaron. Seriously, these things were good - and we were delighted to learn that they are sold as a bar snack at the restaurant's sister wine bar just down the road. 

And the absolute highlight of the savoury courses were these amazing, buttery potato pancakes topped with braised lamb shoulder, black garlic and sheep's' yoghurt. Strictly speaking, this was an adjunct for the lamb and navarin sauce, but packed such a punch that it ended up outshining the main event.

Seasonality is clearly a big driver here, and it was wonderful to see British strawberries pop up on the menu - this vanilla ice cream with fermented strawberry juice and tarragon oil was a turbo-charged take on the classic strawberries and cream...

...While the custardy, caramel sweetness of the accompanying brioche Pain Perdu made for one of the most indulgently pleasing bites of the whole meal.

It's so exciting to be dining out again that it is entirely possible I have lost any critical faculty that once I possessed, or, at least, it is currently severely impaired by the sheer blissful novelty of eating in a restaurant. But I do genuinely think that Le Cochon Aveugle is an absolute little gem of a place. Skosh is, possibly, more on trend, and Roots benefits from a high profile association but LCA is still a little gem that is well worth attention. Hopefully the York food scene will come back from the last eighteen months stronger than ever - which will give us plenty more excuses to pop back.

Le Cochon Aveugle

37 Walmgate

York

YO1 9TX

Recent eats: a Diana Henry week

July’s themed week was an homage to the wonderful food writer, Diana Henry.

I vaguely recall that she appeared on some daily programme on the food channel years ago - Market Kitchen? Good Food Bites? - and she has the kind of cosy screen presence, and, indeed, writing voice which makes you inherently trust everything she says. I hope that she wouldn’t be insulted to be described as more of a home cook but, like Nigella, a home cook with an encyclopaedic knowledge of food and cooking techniques, who draws on multiple traditions and cultures like a foodie magpie to create interesting dishes that you really want to eat.

We own a number of her books and such is my admiration for her that I even have my mother saving Stellas (the Sunday Telegraph magazine) for me so that I can tear out her weekly recipe columns. There is currently a teetering pile of these on our dining room table, alongside the teetering pile of food magazines and shelves crammed with books - more dishes than could ever be cooked in a lifetime.

For our meal plan, we drew mainly on two books - “A Change of Appetite” and “Simple”. The former appealed because, divided as it is into seasons, it was easy to pick dishes that were appropriate for the current weather and available produce. The latter - well, the clue is in the title. What with the recent heat and the ennui that it occasioned, simple cooking is definitely the way forward.

As usual, we had two fast days in the mix, so five meals by the divine Ms Henry.

Monday - Linguine all’Amalfitana. Monday is nearly ALWAYS simple pasta supper night here and this was a great one to add to the repertoire. Garlic and anchovy are cooked slowly in olive oil to create a savoury backbone but the twist comes in the form of chopped walnuts which add not only texture but a welcome bitter note. Lovely.

Wednesday - Teryaki salmon with quick pickled vegetables. Served with sushi rice this was the perfect summer supper. I love this style of food and teryaki is so quick and simple to do. The addition of the pickled veg brought a perfect balance of sour and sweet and a pleasing crunch to the dish.

Friday - Seared tuna with preserved lemon, olives and avocado. What a flavour bomb this was! It sounds a bit unusual on paper, almost discordant, but here is where the trust comes in and I am so glad we did. Everything harmonised (to continue with my music metaphor) absolutely beautifully. Not to mention it couldn’t be quicker or easier to do but tastes far more special than the lack of effort would suggest. Perfect Friday night fare.

Saturday - Poulet au Comté. Some people might think that chicken baked in a rich cheese sauce, traditionally served after Alpine sports, is not really the thing for a blisteringly hot July evening. To them I say - you’re probably right. But this was one of those recipes torn from a magazine that I’d positively drooled over, so I pressed ahead. You’re either the type of person who is going to adore chicken baked in a rich cheese sauce or you aren’t - I most definitely am and can’t wait to cook it again when the nights draw in. I served it with a lemony orzo here, which helped cut the richness a bit, but come the winter all bets are off and this is going to be accompanied by a Matterhorn of mash.

Sunday: Yoghurt marinated spatchcock chicken with herbs and pomegranates. No one knows their way around a roast chicken like Diana Henry, and I think I have probably raved about her book “A Bird in Hand” on here before. This was a great summer roast with lots of zing and vim and an extremely tender, delicately spiced bird.

Elsewhere in the week, we enjoyed a delicious chocolate olive oil cake - this recipe is available online and would be a great dessert to make if you need to cater for gluten and dairy intolerances. Rich, decadent and fruity, we garnished with creme fraiche, berries, and a flurry of sea salt flakes.

So another successful theme week, and a few dishes already added to “regular” (if there is such a thing in this house) rotation. Some of Diana Henry’s recipes are freely available on t’internet (while the ones on the Telegraph site are mainly behind a paywall) so if you do come across any then do give them a whirl. She’s an absolute treasure whose food writing is up there with some of the best this country has to offer at the moment.

Foodie abroad: a return to Lake Road Kitchen

I have a quote on the tip of my tongue about never going back but I’ve Googled it and apparently Never Go Back is the name of a Jack Reacher film. I don’t think I’ve seen it and it certainly doesn’t sound like the kind of thing I’d usually quote. Anyway. I’ve been musing a bit about nostalgia versus novelty recently. I often wonder if I’m too much governed by the former (familiarity, safety) versus the latter (the new, the unknown) and whether that is a good or bad thing. It’s especially pertinent at the moment; like many of us, I find myself still living in a state of heightened anxiety after the events of the past year and my instinct is to grope for comfort blankets when perhaps what I need is a hefty kick up the arse.

A long winded (and navel gazing) way of saying we found ourselves in the Lakes for a few days as my parents invited us to share their holiday apartment and , to say thank you, we wanted to take them out for dinner. Should we revisit an old favourite or go somewhere new? We opted to return to Lake Road Kitchen, a restaurant we visited and loved back in (shockingly) 2017. We felt fairly certain that we would have a good meal - the lamb that we had five years ago remains, probably, the best I have ever eaten - but there was a slight sense of trepidation that it wouldn’t quite live up to our memories.

Reader, if we loved it in 2017 we were blown away by it in 2021 and we are already plotting when we can return (it will not be another five years). What an absolute gem of a place. We had a twelve course tasting menu and not a dud note - although the rest of the party felt a beef and onion broth was not quite up to the standard of the rest (I rather enjoyed it). While the focus remains on local Cumbrian produce, I definitely felt that the chef’s sphere of influences had widened which made for some seriously impressive, and sometimes surprising, taste combinations. Alongside an absolutely flawless handling of ingredients, there was so much to love that I don’t know what to highlight.

I could wax lyrical about pretty much every course and, interestingly, I think that all four of us had a different favourite. For me, ever a sweet tooth, I adored the dessert end of the menu and am tempted to say that a Brillat-Savarin baked cheesecake with raspberry and liquorice jam and raspberry sorbet was the pinnacle. The cheesecake was so light in texture, not claggy as baked cheesecakes have a tendency to be, and it was almost savoury to taste which worked incredibly well with the sour sweet fruit. Even though I was reaching capacity by the time it was served, the moment it was finished I wanted to eat it again. 

But if the menu ended with a bang, then it has to be said it started on one too with a number of “snack” courses including the crunchiest fried chicken in the history of the world and D’s personal favourite - a deep fried prawn toast with king prawn, prawn mousse and garlic butter. This occupied the space somewhere between a prawn toast and a Kiev, which might sound odd but totally worked. D spent most of the remainder of the evening trying (unsuccessfully) to persuade the waitress to bring him another one.

Also, it would be remiss of me not to mention the main course pork - slow cooked then finished on the barbecue and served with the most amazing wild garlic and caper sauce. Plates may have been licked and bones were certainly gnawed by the gentleman in the party. This is a kitchen that knows how to handle meat.

When you pick an old favourite over something new, there is always a risk of missing out but, to be honest, I can’t envisage any scenario where we missed out here. I cannot praise Lake Road Kitchen enough, and my sentiments were echoed by the whole party. We will be back there soon and if ever you, gentle Reader, should find yourself in the vicinity of Ambleside then I urge you to try and nab a table. 

Lake Road Kitchen

Lake Road

Ambleside 

Cumbria 

LA22 0AD