Peckham Bazaar, Peckham

Towards the end of last year, Peckham Bazaar was becoming one of my favourite restaurants. Serving food from the Balkans, the menu was littered with sauces and seasonings I could barely pronounce, let alone come across before; za'atar, adjika, ktipiti, melokhia and the likes tingled my tastebuds, and the charcoal grill outside was manned bravely against the elements to impart that wonderful flavour to the meat and seafood they served. They closed abruptly for a refurbishment, hot off the heels of a 4* review from Fay Maschler. 

Devastatingly, for both them and us, the closure was long while their various challenges were ironed out. But they're back and a shiny new grill now sits within the premises, and chef John Gionleka has a roof over his head in which to work his magic. We sat outside at a wooden bench amongst vines and sunshine, primed with a bottle of crisp, Greek white wine that slid down surprisingly easily for midday on a Saturday. 

The time off hasn't harmed the cooking. Still, the dishes are executed beautifully, and still I end up googling their contents. Tomatoes bathed in fruity olive oil, topped with radishes and a charred spring onion. A large green pepper was split and stuffed with 'tsalavouti', which I believe is a Greek cheese. Creamy, soft and salty, it counteracted the slightly bitter flavour of the blistered pepper. 

Octopus, charred with blackened spots on the grill was a large tentacle, curling protectively around buttery potatoes. So often octopus is overly soft, flaccid with over-braising but ours was perky and gave just the right resistance to the teeth. Samphire and capers added a savoury touch to the creamy tarama, which one might usually find luridly pink in tubs; here, the fish roe flavour was delicate, the texture light. 

Skordalia, a dip made with creaming together potato and garlic, was powerful and tempered the tang of the marinated beetroot. We fought over the crusted parts of the baked feta, the soft middles having long been scooped up. Such pretty colours stained the plate. 

John is a man who knows his vegetables. While the Cornish sardines were blistered simply on the grill with the merest sprinkle of chilli flakes, the esme salad was bold and flavoursome, each component part of sumac, tomato, red onion, cucumber and parsley shining through to complement the oil-rich flesh of the fish that slid easily off the delicate bones. 

Mains were no less impressive. I can't resist quail when I see it on the menu, and this was no different. Marinated in both sweetness and tart, the skin was blackened on the grill, leaving tender pink flesh underneath. I tucked a napkin into my shirt collar and got stuck in with my hands, stripping it for all the meat I could get. The puree was incredibly smooth, made with fava, and soft braised bobby beans beneath were surprisingly spicy. 

Lamb and pistachio adanas were plump and juicy, pink in the middle. The internet tells me that 'adjika' is a Georgian dip made with peppers, and it was slightly rough in texture, vibrant on the plate. 

Grilled lamb neck fillet was served with artichokes 'a la politico', which we were told meant in the style of Istanbul. No idea. The sauce was flavoured with dill, and two large artichoke hearts sat beneath the lamb, cooked perfectly to pink. The expertly turned new potatoes hinted at John's classical culinary training. 

Grapefruit and pistachio baklava with mastic ice cream was certainly a pretty thing but it was never going to hold much sway with me, since I avoid both honey and cinnamon of which it had both of. I just don't like it. The mastic ice cream was pretty interesting though - the mastic gives it an almost chewy texture. My companions hoovered up their portions. 

As you might be able to tell, I loved my lunch at Peckham Bazaar. The food is just unlike anything I've had before in London; such interesting and exciting new flavours, and such skill in their execution. It's very reasonable too - sure, we paid £50 / head, but then we also had (ahem) three bottles of wine between the four of us. The starters hover around the £7 region, the mains in their early teens. The menu changes often, so I have plenty of impetus to return. They're going to start doing a brunch menu soon - mmm, shakshuka - and they roast whole animals on Sundays, as a Eastern Med-style Sunday roast. Last week I was tormented by pictures from diners of suckling pigs, this week was lamb. Go, go and go. 

Peckham Bazaar

119 Consort Rd, 

London SE15 3RU

0207 732 2525

reservations@peckhambazaar.com

Stuffed Courgettes with Avgolemono Sauce

When is a courgette a marrow? Is a marrow an over-grown courgette? I'd say yes, and my housemate and I had this exact... debate when she returned from her family's allotment, wielding a bag stuffed full of courgettes / marrows.

I know a few people who aren't keen on the courgette; watery and tasteless are a couple of adjectives used to describe them, but I don't believe that to be true. They have a delicate flavour, yes, but when cooked properly they're a great vehicle for flavour and a soft, buttery texture. I often stir fry them in shit-loads of garlic, or stew them in olive oil and garlic until they're a mush; garnished with parsley and a spritz of lemon, this mush is wonderful smeared on bread or tossed through pasta.

For something a little more involved though, this lot were stuffed and drizzled with avgolemono sauce. Don't ask me how to pronounce that. It is Greek in origin, and made using stock, egg and lemon. It can be a bit of a tricky bugger if you rush through it, as the egg takes a bit of delicate handling, but otherwise it's a smooth and deceptively creamy sauce; perfect with the beef and dill stuffing the vegetables.

Stuffed Courgettes with Avgolemono Sauce

Serves 4

4 medium courgettes, or 1 large marrow
200gr minced beef
1 small yellow onion, diced finely
3 cloves of garlic, minced
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp paprika
50gr bulgar wheat
A handful of dill, chopped finely
1/2 tsp salt, for seasoning
Table salt, for salting the courgettes
1 tbsp cooking oil
400ml chicken stock

Avgolemono Sauce

300ml hot stock (strained from the cooked courgettes
2 eggs
Juice of 1 lemon
2 tbsp plain flour
2 tbsp butter

Firstly, slice the courgettes into slices about 2 or 3 fingers thick. Remove the inside core seeds, leaving a couple centimetres of white flesh with the skin. This is best done using a small knife and a sturdy teaspoon.

Dissolve plenty of salt in little boiling water, then fill up with cold water, enough to submerge the courgette slices. Leave for 20 minutes, then remove, rinse and pat dry.

Add the cooking oil to a large, non-stick deep sided frying pan on a medium heat. Fry the onion, garlic, cumin and paprika with the minced beef and the bulgar wheat. Add the 1/2 tsp salt and mix well. When the beef has lost its rawness, remove from the heat and mix in the dill. Move to a bowl to cool, and wipe out the frying pan.

Preheat the oven to a warm setting to keep the courgettes warm while you make the sauce. To stuff the courgettes, place each round down into the pan and pack each well with the beef mixture, pressing down with the back of a teaspoon as you go. Set on a medium heat and add the stock around the courgette rounds. Place the lid on, or top with foil tightly. Once the stock comes to a boil, turn it down to a low heat to gently steam. After 10 minutes, remove the lid and carefully turn the courgette rounds with a knife and a spatula. Steam again for 10 minutes. Remove from the heat, place the courgettes into a heatproof serving dish and place in the oven. Remove 300ml of stock for the sauce.

To make the sauce, heat a saucepan on a medium heat with the butter and the flour, whisking well. Cook for 2 - 3 minutes to cook the flour out. Next, add the stock dribble by dribble, whisking well in between adding more, until all of it has been added. Simmer for 2 - 5 minutes until it has thickened. Next, pour the egg and lemon mixture into the sauce VERY slowly, mixing well continuously. When all has been poured, take off the heat. Pour the sauce around the courgettes and drizzle it on top before serving.

Barbequed Shoulder of Lamb

It's not ofen that I cook a great big hunk of meat on the barbeque. I'm usually too taken by the idea of burgers, sausages, ribs and kebabs to want to devote a whole barbeque to just one plateful. However, this weekend I had the opportunity to have two barbeques. The first was at a friend's house, whereby we filled the sausages / kebabs / ribs quota, and the second was the perfect opportunity.

I was feeling rather glum on bank holiday Monday. The grey skies and blustering wind did nothing to help my mood so this was the perfect slap-it-on-and-leave-it kind of technique. With the aide of a friend who expertly built up a pyramid of briquettes (and by that I mean applying the lighting gel liberally), we soon had some nicely whitened coals to be cooking this whole shoulder of lamb over.




As lamb is quite a fatty cut of meat, it's important to babysit it for the first part of the recipe. The dripping fat causes the flames to flare up and if you're not careful you could have a rather more charred piece of meat than you'd like. This method of cooking the lamb imparts a wonderfully smoky flavour to the meat. Next time I'd like to try it with wood chippings, but the coal worked well too. It does take a while to prepare, but once it's done you will be well rewarded for your efforts - lightly spiced, tende meat with a deep smokiness.


Barbequed Shoulder of Lamb

Serves 5 generously

1 whole shoulder of lamb (ours was 1.6kg)

6 cloves of garlic

4 anchovy fillets

A few sprigs of thyme

1/2 tsp hot smoked paprika

1 aubergine, sliced and oiled

1 kettle barbeque

Plenty of coal

Lighting fluid

Build up plenty of coal in the base of the barbeque, applying lighting gel as you go along. You'll need a lot, as it'll be going for a good three hours or more. Trim the shoulder of any excess fat and cut slits into the flesh. Stuff with garlic, chopped anchovy and thyme. Rub with the paprika.

Light the bbq and then the coals are white, place the shoulder carefully on the heat. Carefully lay the slices of aubergine around it so that they grill, and turn overafter about 10 minutes. Remove and set aside. If the coals flare up move the meat around so you don't get any burning. We had some proper flames but it didn't get burnt much, but do keep an eye on it. When you've got a nice colour on the lamb and the coals have cooled down a bit, put the lid on the barbeque with the vent open and cook for 3 hours. Turn the meat over every hour or so.

To serve, rest the meat for 20 mins and carve into chunks. I served it with some tzatziki, shredded little gem lettuce and sliced red onion all rolled up in a flatbread.