The Inauguration of the Marmarati

Once in a while you get an invitation you can't refuse. An email, inviting me to a secret and rare event revealing Marmite's Inner Circle. A follow-up 'phone call from the utmost poshest accented Fotherington-Smythe and I received the above.

So on a dark, rainy night I made my way to No. 5 Cavendish Square. Early as usual, we had a drink in the bar before going upstairs, where the event was happening. We got chatting to the other invitees over never-ending glasses of Champagne, while a man tinkled on a ivory-white piano. Before long, a curtain was pulled back to reveal a richly and sumptuously decorated long table.

It looked festive. Large acid-red bunches of cherries were laid alongside bouquets of red and gold flowers. We had name cards to dictate where we were to sit. A blindfold accompanied each place. I let out a nervous giggle. Our host of the night was in a pirate get up and talked us through what was happening. We were made to stand, swear an oath of allegiance to Marmite, and were introuced to the Marmite team.

Blindfolds on, we were given small silver pots of Marmite to taste. Shooters of lemony lime sorbet in between each tasting (of which there were three) cleansed the palate. Champagne glasses were topped up regularly. I'm afraid I didn't catch the names of any of the variants (if there were any?). Of the three, my favourite was the third, and I think it was the strongest. It had a deep, unctuous and mouthwatering flavour, the kind of intense savouriness that makes your mouth pucker up a bit.

With that, we wrote our comments, posted them into a wooden treasure chest and were back in the bar. Marmite cocktails, decorated with a sprig of rosemary tasted of coffee with the barest hint of the yeast extract. Nibbles came with a Marmite dip (natch). Lord Marmarati signed us our inauguration certificates.

It was a fantastic event and only made me love Marmite more. It was so well executed with a bit of quirky creativity; booze was free flowing and the entertainment was excellent. The end of the evening was a little more than hazy and it was rather a surprise when I found this photo...

http://www.marmarati.org/

Marmite also have a pop-up shop, on Regent Street - link HERE.

Tejo and the Cork Forests

After a heavy night quaffing wine, downing some gin, and a 4am dirty burger scoff I awoke after 3 hours sleep to shuffle towards a coach to take us to the cork forests north of Lisbon. Hosted by the Quinta do Lagoalva, a two hour journey took us here. I was expecting clusters and clusters of trees, but instead there weren't many. The cork trees were a stunning colour; recently stripped, they were the same colour as the cows that were milling around in an adjacent field. Amorim, a leading cork producer, sponsored our trip and I have to admit, the hungover fuzz meant I didn't listen to our guide, Carlos, as much as I should have. Nevertheless, the cork trees were fascinating. Some were over 100 years old but can live up to double. The cork is only harvested after 25 years and is used for a variety of things; shoes, life jackets, that sort of thing.

A quick demonstration on how the cork is stripped showed that great skill and care is needed. One wrong move, a cut too deep means that the tree becomes scarred and won't heal properly.


After this, we moved off to Quinta do Lagoalva taste some wines. Some refreshing roses, dry whites and full bodied reds were tasted, and it was perhaps the first time I've spat (elegantly I'm sure...) - it was a bit early in the day for my fragile state. The winemakers showed us the wines they had on offer and they were an interesting bunch, later sitting down with us for lunch to sample more of their delicious wines. In addition to this we had a jaunty tour round the vineyards in a horse and cart.

Lunch was a simple but tasty affair consisting of a well-dressed salad, pork in walnut sauce, rice bejewelled with sultanas and, much to our delight, an industrial tub of praline ice cream. We finished off with a 46 year old dessert wine, thanked the Tejo winemakers (pictured above) and hopped back aboard the bus. I assumed we were homeward bound, but in fact we were making a quick stop at a cork factory.

It was truly an awesome sight. Piles and piles of cork stacked in neat piles covered an area as far as the eye could see. It would have made a brilliant adventure maze; having ventured down an aisle of cork it was eerily quiet, almost soundproof. We wondered what it would be like to live in a house made of cork. Carlos did a quick question and answer session which became not-so-quick. He did his best to explain to us how the cork industry have been trying to combat cork taint, in finding the best possible way to treat the cork. I got a bit distracted and wandered off, poking and prodding bits of bark here and there.

We arrived back in Lisbon, a full 9 hours later but a day well worth dragging my corpse out of bed for. I was a shell of the person I once was, but gamely soldiered on. Dinner, drinks and a bit of dancing later, I declared myself spent and was in bed by 2am. Rock n' roll.

Vinoble Wine Tasting in Lisbon

You may have gathered from my last post that I spent a long weekend in Lisbon, for 2009's European Wine Bloggers' Conference. I'm not a wine blogger, nor have I done many posts on wine. I write about what I know, and as I don't know a lot about wine, I've never been very confident in writing about it. I am aiming to change this and this weekend was a step in the right direction.


On the first night, we remarked on the irony that we drank absolutely no wine whatsoever. After a few Super Bocks down by the water we gorged ourselves with roasted chicken, and then hit the ginjinha bars - little holes in the wall selling little plastic cupfuls of brandy, drank on the streets. The bottles were packed full of cherries and we got a couple of cherries in our cups at one or two places. The brandy ranged from tasting like cough syrup at worst, to a lovely fruity liquer at best. The soaked cherries were potent. We wobbled back to our hostel.

Nursing a slightly fuggy head the next day, we made our way to the rather plush Grand VIP Lisboa, where the conference was being held, and where we were to stay for the rest of our trip. On the first evening, we faced two formal tastings; one with Vinoble and the next with the Douro Boys. We were to taste a mammoth 26 wines. I was nervous. Tweets flew around warning us to spit the wine, or we'd never make it through. I've never spat wine out.

We entered the room and were faced with tables and tables of Riedel glasses set up in a crescent shape around each seat. A friend remarked that there must be at least £10,000's worth of glasses in the room. It was a nightmarish situation; there isn't usually an evening that goes by that I don't knock a wine glass. These would go down like very expensive dominoes.

We kicked off with a Vinoble's tasting of dessert wines. To start, an almond flavoured, caramelised Gran Barquero Amontillado was surprisingly dry for a sweet wine. Lustau Solera Reserva Amontillado Escuadrilla followed swiftly. Aged in American oak casks, it smelled a bit vegetal and salty. The nutty flavour wasn't immediate and was more of an aftertaste. I found it tasted better on the second sip.

One of my favourites of the evening was Apostol Palo Cortado VORS. It had a rich caramel flavour, and smelled nutty and of toast and buttery. It had a sharp finish that livened you up some, like a smack round the face. I was enjoying this tasting. Quevedo Colheita 1994 was a dark rich red colour, and was dark soft fruits on the nose. It was very sweet, coating the mouth with syrup.
The Moscatel Roxo 1999, above, was another favourite of mine. It was a beautiful light amber colour, and having been aged for 8 years in old oak barrels previously used for whiskey, I expected it to have a more oaky flavour. Instead, it was flowers, herbs and grass. It had just a hint of sweetness and had a light, tea-flavoured finish.

The Justino Henriques Colheita Fine Rich 1995, saw a return to nuttiness. It was a deep, dark brown and quite dry. A rather stark contrast to the wine we'd tried previously. The penultimate wine, Sandeman Vintage 2007 was the only in the tasting that I disliked. It was peppery, spicy and of cloves, with an earthy hint of soil. I'd heard murmurings that it was too young.

The final wine we tried was a Pedro Ximénes Gran Orden. It was the colour of iodine, and stained a yellowish tinge to the glass. It smelled of molasses, figs, and reminded me of Christmas. It tasted intensely of toasted raisins, and I didn't get a lot past that.

After this, we breaked for a glass of beer, apparently a good palate cleanser. I was cheered by my first foray into a formal tasting; no glasses were broken by my hand, and as I looked back at my notes they sounded coherent. I hope you think so too.

Pastéis de Belém - Lisbon, Portugal

Before I launch into any booze-drenched posts of the European Wine Bloggers Conference, held in Lisbon last weekend, I wanted to get this out there. This is the first place, reportedly, to sell Pastéis de Nata; Portugese custard tarts. These tarts are believed to be created by the monks of Mosteiro dos Jerónimo, a monastery in Belém, before the 18th Century. I was almost loathe to eat any on our trip to Lisbon until we visited this place as it had been so highly recommended. Of course I couldn't resist though... One does need a point of reference, after all. They were on offer everywhere.

We left the trip to Belém until Monday, at the very end of our long weekend in Lisbon. As such, we were a bedraggled bunch. It took us two hours to get there, due to getting on the wrong train(s). Pastéis de Belém is enormous - at first glance it looked like just a large cafe, but on exploring further it really was maze-like with blue and white tiled cavernous rooms out the back.

We sat down, thirsty and hungover, to peruse the menu. Salt cod cakes, beef croquettas, a couple of quiches and of course the tarts were ordered. Service was a bit scatty; our waitress arrived with our quiches, then whisked them away again to get them warmed up. They returned cold. The ham quiche was always going to me more tasty than the spinach, and it didn't let us down. Both were hefty examples.

I didn't enjoy the meat paste texture of the beef croquettes much, but the salt cod cakes were great. Slightly garlicky, flaky soft cod with delicious mashed potato, fried up and still warm. A little ketchup wouldn't have gone astray - any kind of fried potato product has me looking for the red stuff.

But what of the main event? The custard tarts were, as suspected, excellent. Flaky pastry, the outer of which was so brittle and thin it shattered like glass in the mouth - though far less harmful, of course. The custard filling had a pleasingly creamy texture, without being overtly eggy, nor too sweet. In short, I loved it. I debated having another, but as we'd already decided we would be having a second lunch, I held back.

All this, with 3 bottles of water (I told you it had been a heavy weekend...) came to 15 Euros in total.

A mere hour later, I dived into this - salt cod fillet, at a nearby restaurant. I have developed a worrying addiction to the fish.

Pastéis de Belém

Rua de Belém no. 84 a 92

1300 - 085 Lisboa

Portugal

Tel: +351 21 363 74 23

Mackerel à la Lyonnaise

Sometimes you just want to do something a little differently. Recently on a Saturday spent with my parents, we picked up some mackerel for lunch. When my dad suggested we cook them with some butter, white wine and vinegar I did wonder for a minute. I had assumed we'd stuff the mackerel with some herbage and some citrus and simply grill. However, he said he'd done it like this before, and it turned out well so I went along with it.

We dug out the old tome that housed this recipe, Larousse Gastronomique, and set about making the recipe. The fish were filleted and I spent a good 10 minutes hunched over the fillets removing the little pin bones with my tweezers, checking for any wayward eyebrow hairs.

Next, 2 diced onions were slowly cooked to almost-caramelised sweetness in a healthy amount of butter with a dash of oil. The oven was preheated to 200 degrees C, and half the onions were scooped into a buttered dish. The salt and peppered mackerel were laid out on top and covered with the remaining onions. A generous tablespoon of red wine vinegar was splashed on top, along with 4 very generous tablespoons of white wine. At the point, the recipe called for breadcrumbs to be sprinkled on top, but we couldn't be arsed. With the top dotted with butter, the dish went in the oven for 10 minutes.

We were somewhat concerned whether the 10 minutes would be sufficient enough to burn the alcohol off. After all, my unfortunate mother is allergic to booze and this dish may have rendered her red faced and droopy-eyed (yes, really). We gave it about 12 minutes in the end, and when it came out it was happily bubbling. There were no incidents around the dining table. Scattered with some finely chopped parsley, served with a simply dressed salad and some crusty French baguette, this made a fine lunch. The mackerel were cooked to perfection and melted in the mouth. Not normally a fan of soggy fish skin, the meat was so tender you couldn't even tell it was there, save the tell-tale silvery colour peeking from below. The sweetness of the onions was balanced perfectly with the vinegar, and the buttery, white wine sauce was mopped up readily with the bread.

A Brioche, Some Chutney

When the lovely PR bods at Wild Card contacted me asking if wanted to try out some packaged soy milk, So Good Soya, I was a bit skeptical. My mum makes her own soy milk from dried soy beans and I often drink it cold and slightly sweetened as a drink. Curiosity got the better of me and I wondered how they would compare. I was sent a couple of cartons, along with a comprehensive recipe list. However, I have been wanting to try making brioche and as I had a lactose-intolerant friend coming over to visit, I decided to use the soy milk to substitute milk in this recipe.

Brioche is a French bread, enriched with butter and eggs. It's sweetness often complements foie gras, and having had a tin of pâté in the fridge for god knows how long, this little starter came to mind. I adapted this recipe, replacing the milk with soy milk. Though the dough was very wet, I added a little more flour, let The Beast do it's thing, and it turned soft and elasticky, pulling away nicely from the bowl . It was sweet and delicious; toasted, smeared with foie gras pâté and dabbed with a little of the plum chutney below, it was a decadent and moreish nibble. In fact, later I couldn't stop slicing more off and slathering it with jam to munch on.

It really was a day of firsts, and I decided to give myself a bit more work to do. That foie gras pâté needed some chutney, after all. A punnet of plums called out to me, and this recipe was born. Recipes on the net suggest adding some diced shallots, but I was all out and I wasn't about to head to the shops. I don't think the chutney suffered from it; it was sweet, spicy with a tangy background and it cut through the richness of the foie gras. It also turned a brilliantly lurid colour.

Plum & Star Anise Chutney

Makes about 2 jam jars

450gr plums
1 star anise
70ml white wine or cider vinegar
100gr brown or demerara sugar
1 1" slice of ginger
4 tbsp water
A little cooking oil

Sterilise the jam jars and lids by covering them and their lids in a pan of cold water. Bring to the boil and simmer for 10 minutes. Remove from the water (carefully!) and leave to dry.

Wash the plums and slice around in half, twisting the halves off and removing the stone. Chop into roughly equal sized chunks. In a pan, add a dribble of oil and fry the ginger gently on both sides. Add the plums and the sugar and fry on a low heat, covering all the plums in the sugar. Throw in the water and the vinegar, as well as the star anise and simmer for 15 - 20 minutes. When it's done, remove the star anise and ginger, spoon into the jars while hot and put the lid on. If you want a stronger star anise flavour leave the pod in the chutney. Leave to cool and put it in the fridge.

I'm not sure how long it lasts, I'd say about a couple of weeks. The chutney worked out perfectly with the brioche and pâté, and I imagine it'll also work well used sparingly with a really strong cheddar. I also used a couple dollops stirred into a red wine reduction to sauce a duck breast, cooked to medium rare, with great effect.

Mien Tay, Battersea

Vietnamese food is quickly becoming an obsession of mine. Fresh clean flavours, some chilli kick, and often the comfort of deeply beefy noodle soups.

Mien Tay is a Vietnamese restaurant on Kingsland Road, part of the many that make up what is known as Pho Mile. Specialising in the cuisine of South Western Vietnam, they recently opened a branch in Battersea and invited me along to sample their dishes. Located on Lavender Hill, it's actually more convenient for me than Kingsland Road is - when timed right it's a mere 30 minute train ride away.

The menu is over-whelmingly long. I was pleased to see some unusual meats, like frogs legs, eel and goat. Whereas I knew exactly what I wanted for my main - how else do you test a Vietnamese place other than by its Pho? - I was more confused about what to have to start. I wanted several different dishes, so I asked our waitress what she would recommend. She told us she'd bring us a selection. Green papaya salad with dried chilli beef (top) was refreshing, light and the jerky-like strips of beef packed a punch. Next, the Banh Xeo came out - a crispy rice flour pancake coloured with turmeric and stuffed to bursting full of pork and beansprouts, with lettuce leaves and herbs for us to wrap and dip. It was deliciously messy business, and there wasn't a scrap left on the plate.

Our eyes widened when this platter was brought out to us. Prawn paste wrapped around sugar cane, spiced pork patties, chargrilled quail with honey and spices, summer rolls, spring rolls... I looked on in glee while my dining companion had a vague look of fear about him.

I don't often bother with quail as I find it fiddly but these were enough to make me change my mind. Slightly sweet, sticky and meaty, they were worth the fiddle. Dipped in a dish of salt and pepper mixed with lime juice, I couldn't help but to pick the bones dry. Prawn paste wrapped the sugarcane, and gnawing on it was a pleasure; sweet juices mixed with garlicky, bouncy prawn flesh. Summer rolls and spring rolls were adequately made and stuffed with fresh vegetables, but were neglected in favour of the spiced meats.

At this point my friend fretted that he was already full. I patted my belly; still some room left. By this point the dining room was busy and full of chatter. Service started to suffer a bit; I'd heard our neighbouring table complaining that they hadn't received their starters before their mains. Wrong dishes were placed at our table and then whisked away. While mildly irritating, I wasn't particularly bothered; service was so sweet and apologetic I almost wanted to give them a hug.

The above steaming bowl of Pho was placed before me. I'd ordered the Special, which contained a combination of beef balls, brisket and tender, rare slices of beef. I had a sip of the soup stock before garnishing it with the beansprouts, herbs and lime - I almost didn't want to add them. The stock was beautifully flavoured. The noodles retained some bite and were pleasingly elastic. Easily the best Pho I've had in London.

My companion ordered the goat stir-fried with galangal. I wasn't sure if this was a particularly Vietnamese dish, as I usually associate galangal with Thai food. The dish was heavily spiced, almost like a curry and the meat was slightly chewy which is what I'd expected of goat, with a hint of gaminess. The dish was rather one dimensional in flavour - there was an initial smack of the galangal, but not a whole lot else. By this point, my friend declared himself overstuffed. Our lovely hosts were kind enough to pack up the rest of the goat dish to be enjoyed later.

All in all, it was a fantastic meal. None of the dishes passed the £6 mark, and being a BYO place means it is a place to have a meal of great value. I think the menu could do with being simpled down; there were a lot of Chinese-sounding dishes and I think they should stick to what they're obviously good at - Vietnamese food. As well as the salad, the pancake and the quail, the Pho was fantastic, and my friend who'd tried some of mine said it was amazing. A gem in South London - though I wish they'd opened south east way.

Mien Tay

180 Lavender Hill
Battersea
London SW11 5TQ

Tel: 0207 350 0721