Books (and a newspaper) to put a smile on your face

I can't get enough of having a good time at the moment.  That could be because things are a bit crappy and I'm built to have a good time, so like some crazed compass needle, I'm seeking my due north.

It could also be simply that having fun is so much more enjoyable than being a miserable sod.

I never cease to be amazed at how many people who 'enjoy their food' are thoroughly miserable when it comes to food.  They treat food as a mountain they must conquer.  Their faces are stern, their chins set.  They tend towards argument and introspection.  Not enjoying a damn good meal.

The untimely death of Keith Floyd has resulted in the loss of a man with an obvious love of what he did.  Simon Hopkinson is clearly cut from similar cloth.  It was therefore a delight that in this rather rubbish week Simon's new book The Vegetarian Option and a re-print of Floyd's Food should land on my mat courtesy of their respective publishers.

Reading their books in bed the other night I was reminded that I love food because I love it, by that I mean I get great enjoyment from cooking it, eating it, shopping for it, talking about it, even washing it up.  It's fun.

Sometimes it's not though.  As someone who keeps kosher I'm all too often relegated to the vegetarian section of the menu - and it is a relegation - it's a place you really don't want to explore.  Hopkinson makes me hopeful that others will get as excited by veggies as he clearly is. 

I challenge you not to swoon at Boiled onions with poached egg & Lancashire cheese.  If for a moment you dare think it sounds anything less than sublime, go to your local bookshop and take a look at the photo on page 73.  It's only a matter of days until I'll be feeding the family Cheese-crusted fried parsnip strips with romesco sauce and if this chilly weather is here to last the only pumpkin carving I'll be doing is to make Pumpkin soup 'Paul Bocuse'.  I might not have been tempted by Gratin of chicory with mustard sauce had it not been for Simon's closing words on the recipe "Rich, I believe, might be the word, here."

Don't be fooled that this is just a book about what to do with the bits of the veg box you get flummoxed by - try the Riverford book for that - it is a book that will make you cook better and in many ways is very classic.  His analysis of how to use agar-agar is one example of that, as his reminder of what a real Caesar salad is.

Cookbooks don't get much more classic than Floyd's Food.  Yes Absolute did do a quick print job following his death, but let's not be cynical.  It's a very good book.  It may lack the slick production and photos of The Vegetarian Option but it is the antithesis of the big cookbook.

Floyd like Hopkinson is not one to mince his words.  His instructions for Salade Nicoise are limited to "Whack the lot into a salad bowl and eat it."  His helpful tips for chip making include "You can do this hours before you intend to use them, that way avoiding the panic while you are making the bearnaise and everybody is getting sozzled in the garden."  I was rather surprised to see one ingredient in Watercress Express is instant potato mix, but because it's Floyd and was first printed in 1981, I'll let him off.  (Yes you're right, I will never forgive Delia for similar shortcuts, but this is my blog and I'll be as hypocritical as I like.)

Despite this aberration, I can't recommend either book highly enough.  They're great reminders about the sheer pleasure of food.  They may not be the best if you like to follow recipes like a religion.  If you're happy with the ebb and flow of the kitchen then purchase them in the knowledge you'll be in for a good time.

Speaking of good times, I had an all too brief drink last night at Mark's Bar for the launch of Galley Slave.  It's a freesheet edited by Joe Warwick, formerly of Restaurant magazine and briefly The Napkin Sniffer. 

It's very much focused at the London restaurant scene and is intended for those in the business.  But with a tag line of "Putting the wind up the London restaurant scene" and columns entitled  'Blog Standards' and 'Galley Chumps' a restaurant critic version of Top Trumps - genius - it is likely to become required reading for us obsessives as well.

Pierre Koffman at Selfridges

I've thought long and hard about whether or not to write up tonight's dinner because frankly the place was overun by some very good bloggers and a very good reviewer and I'm not sure what more I can add to what they will inevitably write. UPDATE: See the comment below, turns out Jay was there for fun as well.

However, I've decided to because I want to make a point that I assume, although can't be certain, the others will make.  The food was excellent, but most importantly the evening was great fun. 

Maybe it was because I was taking my Mum out for dinner, perhaps it was the venue, a pimped-up marquee on a balcony at Selfridges.  Maybe it was constant shuddering of the floor - not sure if it was the wind, or the aircon - that made us question the safety of the venture.  Maybe it was the service that didn't quite live up to the food.  Or maybe it was the sheer delight of those eating there to be tucking in to Koffman's scoff once again.  Whatever it was, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

After having a chat with Pierre's lovely partner Claire, I figured out it was the best part of 15 years ago that I ate at Tante Claire.  I don't remember anything about the meal other than the wedgwood blue walls - a feature that has been replicated at Selfridges - not that Claire had noticed until I pointed it out.

She said that one of her favourite things was to stand in the bar and listen to the hum of the restaurant.  She was enjoying herself.  If the deft touches on the plate were anything to go by, so was the kitchen.  My starter of leek terrine was summer on a plate - sweet, light and carefree.  My cod was good but not exceptional.  My pistachio souffle and ice-cream was outstanding.  Shame about the false alarm of a hair lurking - turned out it was a bit of a pastry brush. I'd have thought modern technology could overcome such issues.

Sometimes we forget the dining is about pleasure and therefore fun.  Koffman's got it right at Selfridges.  There's little doubt he's looking to return to a full time kitchen after the hiccups at Brasserie St Jacques and guest spots elsewhere.  If he can bottle the pleasure factor and food of this quality, he's on to a winner. 

It reminds me that that was what Ramsay's shtick was in the early days: serve great food and keep the punters happy.  It's not a quadratic equation, but a sum that is nonetheless easy to get wrong.

Google Maps

Pierre Koffman at Selfridges, 400 Oxford Street, London, W1A 1AB UK
Tel: +44 (0) 20 7318 7778

Rosh Hashanah 2009

A happy and healthy new year to everyone reading - and those not reading as well of course.

If you've not got a clue why you are receiving these felicitations at this time of year you should read this and then this.

And of course, well over the fast.

I'll update on the home-brined salt beef next week - let's just hope I haven't poisoned anyone and / or it hasn't gone off before I cook it.

Not letting sleeping dogs lie

To rehash an old argument, if a blogger had got a top chef to cook for them for the sole purpose of writing a review on a restaurant that isn't yet in existence, it would have caused a right hoo-ha. There is no way any of us could replicate this meal as it is a one off specifically requested by Giles so he could write a review.  It also reignites the hoary issue of the anonymity of reviewers. 

Nonetheless, it did suitably whet my appetite for my imminent dinner at La Tainte Claire so I guess everyone wins: Giles for getting the master's attention and what sounds like a fantastic meal, the restaurant for the PR and the diner for being on tenterhooks. 

It reminds me that yes reviewers on national papers are in a priveleged position and no they may not experience the same meal as us.  But it doesn't make their copy worthless or any less interesting.

Apple & black pepper sorbet

This sorbet is a very good foil to a rich Rosh Hashanah lunch - or any time you've eaten far too much rich dense food.  At the end of such a large meal you want something refreshing.  The spiciness of the pepper helps remind your tongue to wake-up.

Makes just under 1L of sorbet.

• 1L medium / dry apple juice (I quite like Duskin Farm's Bramley apple juice)
• 75g caster sugar
• 1 lemon - juiced
• 200 ml water
• 5 peppercorns crushed - I find ground peppercorns just disappear

As with all sorbets it's pretty darn easy.

Combine all the ingredients in a pan and heat for about 20mins.  It will come to a boil, but try to keep it at a simmer rather than rolling boil - you don't want too much to evaporate.

Place it in the fridge to cool thoroughly.

Then if you're using an ice-cream machine, follow its instructions for making sorbet.  With my machine, that basically means turning the freezer unit on to get it cold, then putting the syrup in the bowl to churn for around 30-40 minutes.

If you don't have an ice-cream machine, put the cooled syrup in a container that can go in the freezer and keep an eye on it - every hour or so - and scrape the surface with a fork to break-up the ice-crystals.  Eventually the whole lot will freeze, but not into a solid block, which will happen if you don't scrape. 

I find this method ends up more like granita than sorbet, that is, larger chunks of ice.  My preference is for a smoother sorbet, but each to their own.

Ginger & White

Hampstead.  As place names go, it's pretty evocative: money, culture, the Heath, swimming ponds, miscreant ministers, European fishermen.

Yet this money and culture does not buy good food.  Jin Kichi does fairly good sushi and The Horseshoe is a solid gastropub.  But the majority of the restaurants in 'the village' are chains, ditto for the cafes. 

I can't help but feel ever so slightly embarrassed eating in Hampstead.  It's like farting at a dinner party.  Whilst the act itself might make you feel a bit better, you feel dirty and sullied and frankly you've darkened an otherwise enjoyable occasion.  Restaurants are Hampstead's festering, suppurating wart that lie hidden beneath the Hermes scarf.

It was with a high degree of certainty therefore that I was able to argue with Gemma at BouTea (very good tea by the way, in Covent Garden, not Hampstead) that no, there wasn't a really good new coffee shop in Perrin's Walk that sold handmade cakes and Square Mile Coffee.  I pointed out that she was confusing a rather non-descript greasy spoon on Perrin's Walk and Gail's, the very commercial purveyor-of-excellent-chelsea-buns on Hampstead High Street. 

Turns out Gemma was spot-on.  It's not often I'm so catastraphocially wrong and it's rather depressing when I am.  But she was right.

Ginger & White is, it has to be said, an almost perfect, relaxing, if rather self-consciously trendy cafe on Perrin's Walk.  And they serve Square Mile coffee and Montezuma chocolate. 

Writing this I'm suddenly struck by a mixture of guilt and reticence.  I realise I've only had toast and coffee there - lots of both, but still that's it - and a bit of yoghurt and fruit.  Can I give the place a fair outing?  Maybe the cakes taste like poo.  The home-smoked baked beans might just be Heinz a la fag. 

But the coffee was very good and the toast was pretty fine as toast goes.  And there's the peanut butter.  It's homemade.  They add some honey.  And kids turn away now, it's FUCKING AMAZING.  Seriously good.  There is no bread on this earth that can't be improved with lashings of the stuff.  Actually, sod the toast and ignore anyone watching you, just use your pinkie.

I imagine making peanut butter is not tricky, but how many people go to the effort?  It says a lot that the Ginger & White bods do, almost enough to allow me to stop here and ignore the fact I haven't worked my way through the menu.

At last, there is somewhere in Hampstead that is not an embarrassment. Sir Arthur would have approved.

Google maps

Ginger & White, 4a Perrins Court, London, NW3 1QS, UK
Tel: +44 (0)20 7431 9098

Preparing for Rosh Hashanah 2009

As August draws to a close, the temperature begins to dip and the nights draw in, I get excited.  Autumn isn't far off - and that means good food - more particularly though, Rosh Hashanah is around the corner and that means good cooking. 

And why the excitement?  The High Holidays are a time for reflection on the year before and what is to come in the year ahead.  It is also a time that is traditionally spent with the family.  And as with any Jewish get together, that means food is present and abundant.

In our family it has become the norm that my wife and I cook lunch on the second of the two days of Rosh Hashanah for the rest of the family - about 14 people.  This year, we'll likely be cooking on both days, although the first day will be a smaller gathering with just the in-laws.

For me, the anticipation of the meal starts about now as I begin to give thought to what I might cook. 

Because it's a festival, which means a longish stretch in shul, it's lunch and there are lots of people, food needs to be ready soon after they sit down.  Usually this means that starters are cold or at least well prepared before I leave for synagogue in the morning. 

The main course is almost always something slow-cooked.  In the past I've made pot-au-feu or bollito misto.  I quite like both of these as they include tongue, which I love and which reminds me of growing up when my mother always made tongue for Rosh Hashanah.

I'm undecided on what to do this year.  Both of these champions have a lot going for them, they're delicious and they have the requisite wow factor for a feast - because let's be honest, when you're cooking for a lot of people, you might as well show off a bit.  Bollito misto lends itself well to big meals because you can use the broth as a starter - I could replace the traditional tortellini with kreplach. Then again the pot-au-feu leftovers are just so good and the definition of chef's treat.

Maybe I should do something different.  I'm loathed to not have tongue somewhere on the table.  But I am tempted to brine my own salt beef this year, ahead of a mooted salt-beef taste-off with Dan Young of Young and Foodish - a man versed in the way of salt-beef.

Tongue and salt-beef could be a goer, but it just feels a little too prosaic.  We'll have to see, maybe I could do the salt beef for another Yom Tov meal.

Starter will most certainly include chopped liver and depending on how generous I'm feeling, my guests may get some leftover gribenes.

Dessert will definitely include my apple and black pepper sorbet.  Sounds weird, but tastes great.  I'll have a recipe up in the next few days.

Time to start plotting, rereading books, recipes and mining the deepest crevices of my mind.  I'll update once I've made a decision.  I'll also be sure to write-up the sorbet recipe.  It's seriously tasty, refreshing and light after a big meal.  But sounds nasty, I know.