Sam's Bistro, Fowey

Every so often, an escape to the countryside is essential. Big skies, clean air, good views and a different pace of life soothe the soul and loosen those scrunched up shoulders. Last weekend, a few of my mates and I went to Fowey in Cornwall. Aided by a friend who hails from there, we got all those typical seaside activities in there; ice creams, cream teas, eating pasties, driving boats, long walks, pubs, crabbing. That kind of thing. As soon as we arrived we craved seafood.

Sam's Bistro doesn't take bookings and we waited at the bar until a table became free. There's something very American diner about the place, right down to the gaudy laminated menu. We squeezed into a booth and armed with bloody Marys, we set about the mammoth task of choosing our lunches from the seafood-driven menu.

A seafood platter comprising of prawns, mussels and calamari cost £15 each, with a salad and bread which the waitress kindly swapped for fries. It was a monster portion - the prawns are hiding on the other side, obscured from view by the mountains of mussels.

The mussels hid a bowl of white wine sauce that was perfect for dipping chips into. Two sardines each was plenty, and the skin had a lovely charcoal flavour to it, cooked perfectly.

I had enormous food envy when my friend's special of skate wing in a caper butter sauce turned up. Two meaty wings - two! - with a rich buttery salty dressing was easy to get stuck in to as the flesh slid off the cartilege easily. Morsels of meat around the edges of the wing were nice and crunchy. My friend couldn't finish it to our glee and we gladly helped ourselves to it.

With a couple of drinks, our bill came to about £23 each with service - really very bargainous.

Sam's Bistro

24 Fore Street,
Fowey,
PL23 1AQ

Tel: 01726 832273

Not all our meals were good. Our potential brush with death (ok, horrible sickness) is blogged here.

A Cream Tea

If there's one thing the West Country is known for, it's their cream teas. Although it is said to originate in Devon, there were many signs for cream teas in Padstow. Sadly, we didn't manage to have one ourselves; after a 6 mile walk round the headlands near where we stayed, we chanced upon a bed & breakfast advertising cream teas. When we roamed around the gardens, like a pack of 8 hungry wolves, a face appeared at the window. "No cream tea". And that was that.

So when I came back to London I had a scorchingly hot sunny day to while away and I decided to give making my own scones a whirl.

It was surprisingly easy. I'm not an expert baker by any means, but these were so simple I imagine I'll be making them again. Eaten warm from the oven, slathered in strawberry jam and clotted cream, I tried both the Cornish method (above) of jam first, then cream and the Devon method (below) - cream first, then jam. I am happy to report the Cornish way is preferred for me; sinking your teeth into the cream was ultimately satisfying. By the way, they're pronounced 's-cons' in this household.

Plain Scones (adapted from this recipe)

Serves 4

225 self raising flour

1/4 tsp salt

50gr butter, chilled and cut into cubes

25gr caster sugar

125ml full fat milk

The juice of half a small lemon

Extra flour for dusting

Strawberry jam & clotted cream

Preheat the oven to 220C. Add the flour to a mixing bowl and add the salt. Rub in the butter, lifting it as you go to aerate it until you get fine crumbs. Stir in the sugar.

Make a well in the flour and add the milk with the lemon juice. Mix it lightly until it forms a soft and slightly sticky dough. Add more flour if it's too sticky to handle.

Flour your work surface and knead the dough a few times. If you're using a scone cutter, flour it well and cut into the dough but don't twist the cutter. It should make a satisfying "ummphh" sound. pat the dough back and cut another until you have four. Alternatively, an up-ended mug does the trick just as well, though you will have rather mammoth scones.

Dust a baking tray with some flour, brush the scones with a little milk and bake for 10 - 15 mins so that they're slightly browned and cooked through. Leave to cool down a little on a wire rack and then scoff 'em all.

This is best served with tea, but I found it also works well on a hot day with a gin and tonic.

Fishy Times

The view from our house at dusk

I've just returned from a week in Cornwall. We stayed 2 miles outside of Padstow, in a converted lifeboat house. We first stayed here a year ago and the house is absolutely stunning. This year, myself and only two others of the original party returned with 5 friends, and the response from everyone else upon reaching the house was overwhelming. I'd forgotten how great it is; there was much shrieking, "oh my god!"-ing, and general excitement.

One thing we didn't manage to do last year due to choppy seas was to go mackerel fishing. On our first day, we booked it in. Of course, when the time came it was raining, but undettered, we got our raincoats on and hiked into Padstow. After all, we survived the torrential downpours of Bestival; what's a bit of light rain?

The sea was pretty choppy and one of our party turned a slight shade of green. We stopped once to chance our luck, but as none of us caught anything we moved on. Suddenly, people were catching fish left right and centre. One of us even caught this hapless crab (above) - it just hung onto the weight and wouldn't let go. More the fool him.

Typically, since I was bouncing around with excitement about the trip, I was the only one to not catch any thing at all. Luckily my mates caught 28 mackerel between them, so we had a plentiful haul. After a pretty harrowing descaling and gutting session, the mackerel were ready to be cooked.

The mackerel were then stuffed with lemon, liberally oiled, seasoned with salt and pepper and cooked on a hot barbeque until the skins were crisp. Simply served with a salad, these were beautiful; the fruits of my mates' labours and delicious to boot. We even convinced my fish-disliking housemate, who caught the most, to give them a try. She liked it, and thus we crowned her Fish Queen of the week.

Unfortunately the crab fared less well. We stuck him in the freezer for half an hour before dropping him (yes, we also named him - Crab C. Nesbitt) into rapidly boiling water. He seemed fine when he went in, but when he was cooked we found he'd dropped his claws and when we prised the shell open only brown water poured out of it. Given that we had no internet access or 'phone signal and none of us had ever cooked crab before, I gather we must have cooked him wrong which is a real shame. It could also have been his 2 mile journey home in a plastic bag.

Nevertheless, the claws were delicious; the meat was sprinkled with black pepper, spread on two slices of heavily buttered toast... divided into squares for 8 people. Still, you can have too much of a good thing, right?

Cornish Delights

When I think of Cornwall, I inevitably think of pasties, cream teas, and surfer dudes. I tried my hand at all these things in the week I was in Cornwall. I have to say, I'm much better at eating pasties and cream teas than being a surfer.

There were pasty shops everywhere in Padstow, most selling traditional pasties but also variations, such as spiced chickpea, or even sweet ones such as apple and blackberry. Rick Stein's deli even made crab pasties which I tried; it was quite unpleasant.

The pasty is said to originate from Cornwall, and they were originally made for lunch for the tin miners. As their hands would be dirty from the morning's work, the crimp was what you used to hold the pasty; you'd eat the semi-circle part and throw away the rest. Another rumour is that the pasties were half savoury and half sweet, so that you'd get your lunch and a dessert for afters. We didn't see any of them on sale though.

Being a seaside town, we also managed to get little pots of cockles and crayfish, served with vinegar and served in little polystyrene cups with a toothpick, so quintessentially in the style of the British seaside. I think this was perhaps the only seafood we ate which wasn't related to Stein. They even had jellied eels on offer, but I wasn't brave enough.

I suspect if we made it out fishing we would have gotten our fill, but alas, the seas were too choppy. Before us the skipper had taken out 11 people, and 6 were sick. He didn't fancy our chances. Perhaps we looked too much like city folk, Londoners. He'd probably be right.

One thing I wish more London chippies would do though, is scallops or oysters as a side. Rick Stein's fish and chip takeaway offered shucked or oyster frit and battered or grilled scallops.

Jonathan Swift once reportedly said "He was a bold man that first ate an oyster". I'd be inclined to agree; they're not particularly attractive specimens, but I simply cannot resist them. We went to the chippy twice, and for 90p each I couldn't help myself. I couldn't tell you exactly what type of oyster it was, but they were damn tasty - they were very fresh and sweet. A lot of people I've met don't like the idea of them as apparently they "look like snot". It's hard to convince people that this isn't true. If ever I was given good advice, it was from my dad - "always sniff an oyster before you eat it". Good advice indeed.

Rick Stein's

Ive just spent a week in Cornwall, in Padstow more specifically. This was the view from the house we stayed at, it was stunning.

Much food was eaten, although not as much seafood as I'd hoped. Apparently it's quite hard to get your hands on fresh seafood unless you're prepared to drive, due to some sort of fishing quota. Apologies on the sketchy details, but I was stuffing a scone with clotted cream into my mouth as I was being told this.

It seems Rick Stein really does own a lot of Padstow - Stein's Patisserie, Cafe, Bistro, Deli, Restaurant, Fish n' Chip shop, School - his name was everywhere. Luckily enough, he's one of my favourite chefs.

The fish and chips were very good indeed, although the queue was phenomenal. The list of fish was a long one, plenty to choose from. They also had the choice of whether to have the fish battered or grilled. Grilled? Grilled fish and chips?! It's batter or nothing for me. I chose hake, as it isn't a fish I've had before. It was meaty and succelent, as I'd hoped. Both the fish and the chips were cooked in beef dripping too. They also had various sides, such as mushy peas (average), chip butties, oysters, and scallops. Of course I indulged.

We also went to Rick Stein's Seafood Restaurant one night. The menu was very long; there was perhaps too much choice and it took us absolutely ages to decide what to have. I eventually settled on the sashimi starter and the Fruits de Mer for the main. The interior of the restaurant was more modern and a bit more fancy than I expected, due to Stein's portrayal of his own style as being very simple and no frills. The service was average - we asked for more time in making our ordering decisions, and subsequently we couldn't get their attention to take our order for quite some time. Nevertheless, the food was delicious.



The sashimi starter had the freshest fish I've ever tasted; generally speaking mackerel isn't my favourite fish to eat in the sashimi style, as I find it can be a bit too strong. This was completely different - it was so fresh that there wasn't even a hint of the metallic undertone you can sometimes get. The salmon, the sea bass and the scallop were the same. So fresh they were almost sweet, and it melted on the tongue.

The seafood platter was a daunting prospect. They gave me too after tool until I had 3 either side of me. As you can see from the pictures, it was huge. Half a lobster, a crab, mussels, a scallop, cockles, whelks, a razor clam, two langoustines... I was in shellfish heaven. It was all served on ice, with mayonnaise, shallot vinegar and a bottle of tabasco. Thoroughly recommended - it was quite extravagant at £45 for the platter, but I'm glad I went for it, especially when I saw the envy in everyone else's eyes.