Pea & Courgette Soup

I'll admit it's not the most innovative or the most interesting of recipes, but it is one of the tastiest soups I've made and I think I achieved this through laziness. That's quite a feat and one that should be celebrated.

I've started a training course for work that means that I don't get home until 9:30pm every Tuesday night, and coupled with inviting friends round for dinner the following night, I thought I best make some preparation towards it lest I keep my guests hanging around for ages waiting for their soupy starter. No one likes waiting for food. So I half heartedly chopped a few courgettes, lobbed in a few bits and bobs and then blitzed it roughly before flopping in front of some guilty pleasure TV.

This resulted in a fresh and vibrant soup - the peas going in raw and barely cooking them makes it so - and from the happy murmurings from my guests, I almost abandoned the main course and served a second helping instead.

Pea & Courgette Soup

Serves 6 as a starter or 3 as a main with bread

3 large courgettes
1 fat or 2 smaller cloves of garlic
500gr petit pois, frozen - this seems a lot but it's a thick, chunky soup
A sprinkle of paprika per bowl
5 big mint leaves
3 basil leaves
100gr manchego, chopped into small chunks
1 tbsp olive oil
1 chicken or vegetable stock cube (or home-made stock if you have any)
1.5l water

In a large pan heat the oil and add the garlic, stewing slowly while you chop the courgettes into even chunks. Add the courgettes, then the stock cube and water. Simmer for a few minutes until the vegetables are still al dente (this depends really on how large you chopped the courgettes). Take off the heat and add the peas. Leave for 10 minutes. Go for a wee, have a sit down, make a cup of tea, that sort of thing.

Chop the mint and throw in. Blitz roughly (unless you like smooth soups, oddball). When serving, heat gently till just simmering. Taste for salt and pepper. Add evenly the chunks of manchego into each bowl, then add the soup. Serve topped with basil finely minced and a sprinkle of paprika.

A Weekend in West Sweden

I may have only spent two days, courtesy of Visit Sweden, on the islands of West Sweden but it made quite the impression. The evening Friday night flight from London was loaded with good-looking businessmen and glamorous well-heeled women, making me feel like an ugly dwarf so not only is the scenery breath-taking, so are their people. As are their booze prices.

I arrived a day later on the blogger group trip than everyone else as I couldn't get out of work, so I missed out on the mussel safari and instead picked up with the group at Lysekil to get on a ferry to South Koster Island.

Once there, we dumped our bags at Sydkoster hotel Ekenäs and set off on a cycle tour of the island. A mere 300 permanent inhabitants, our guide told us that almost 300,000 tourists pass through in the summer months; it must be a staggering contrast. The island is car-free, and we cycled merrily along with only walkers and a couple others passing us. I had forgotten how much I love cycling and I could have well gone on for another couple of hours had it not been for the gnawing hunger that had started to set in. We clambered up to the highest point of the island to gawp at some panoramas before we set off for lunch.

We arrived at our guide's garden centre and restaurant, Koster Gardens, a calming place where we spied chickens pecking away in the vegetable beds and cockerels making us laugh with their ridiculous calls. The restaurant itself is oh-so-very-Swedish; clean wooden lines, dark blue and teal furnishings.

A salad full of leaves picked from the garden was a simple start to the meal, and a light tomato stew with poached fish, golden beetroot and a golden glob of mayonnaise on top followed. Warm, nutty bread helped up soak up the juices.

We were told that the restaurant uses it's own produce and often sells vegetables to customers; in an outhouse we found palettes of vividly coloured vegetables. A munch on a cherry tomato was intensely sweet and juicy.

Later, we attempted to go on a lobster safari but with 2.5m waves (which sounded quite fun...) the trip was abandoned and instead we toured calmer waters. Once back ashore, we had a good ol' stare at some previously caught lobsters, including this beasty which I forget how old was, but was really heavy. And it had one massive claw.

Back at the hotel, we were talked through the cooking of the lobsters - though not the massive one, as big lobsters don't taste so good. This poor bastard was dangled above the bubbling pot, staring into its fate as everyone squealed for our chef host to pause for a photo. What followed was a multi-course feast of lobster served as popcorn, soup, and whole, somewhat bizarrely served with quiche and cumin-flavoured cheese.

It was then, perhaps a mistake to get drunk and dance around to the hotel's 'Rocktoberfest' band (they were really rather good...) as the next day we took a boat for an hour to Grebbestad. I don't get seasick but I suffer from hangovers more than most, and jiggling around on the boat gave me an extreme case of the queases. To be honest, just being alive was giving me the queases but after a quick, er, purge I perked up some and got right stuck into the 'oyster experience'. Our host, Pers, was super-enthusiastic and taught us all about Swedish oysters and the ideal home he had created underneath his oyster house. He dredged some up and after a quick lesson on opening the oysters, he invited us to try it ourselves.

I was rubbish at it and I made Pers open mine for me. The oysters had some serious mineral flavour to them, while still being sweet but briny. They cured me.

As we'd missed out on the lobster safari the day before, Pers kindly offered to take us out to see his lobster pots instead. We got these awesome survival suits which were the most comfortable thing ever. So comfortable that I may have drifted off for a moment or two. The lobster pots were brought up from the depths of the ocean and to our delight, they housed a couple of crabs and a lobster.

Back at the oyster house, we sat down to a meal of freshly boiled langoustine (they call it crayfish) and crab. Viscera coated my face as I smashed my way through claws and squeezed langoustine juice into my eyes to extract the precious flesh.

And with that, we set off back to Gothenburg to catch our return flight. I loved Sweden; it was bloody freezing but crisp, clear waters and gorgeous scenery more than make up for it. I imagine if I lived there I would look as healthy and slim as its inhabitants - especially if I ate langoustine and crab for lunch every day. My god is everything expensive though; at roughly £7 a pint it would suit the richer holiday-goer. Or if you're less of a booze monkey.

Cycle tour, hotel, four course lobster dinner, and shellfish safari package on South Koster - link here.

Everts Sjobob organised the boat pick-up, oyster experience and lobster safari for us and their link is here.

You can read about the day I missed here and here, and my full Flickr set is here.

I would not recommend First Hotel G in Gothenburg, where I stayed on my first night. I woke up the next day with 36 very itchy bites down my right arm. I am still boiling all my clothes obsessively.

EDIT: I've since been told that beer in Sweden is not expensive and beer in most places set you back £4 - £6. Be that as it may, I reported on my experience.

New York - October Edition

"Oh you food bloggers just HAVE to take pictures of everything you eat." This is a moan I've often heard and yes, it's mostly true. Unless I'm firing a flash gun in someone's face (no, NO NO to flash) I tend to just smile wanly and let it wash over me. But last weekend I went to New York and I just couldn't be bothered. It definitely wasn't the food as I everything I ate I loved, but I was all about enjoying myself and photo-taking took a backseat to that. So here are some suggestions of where we went, a bit photoless.

We got a last minute reservation at Minetta Tavern for 7pm. We were lucky as it was busy when we got there but the atmosphere fantastic. Awesome cocktails (the Murray Sour was great) and the burger is beefy goodness, the pile of fries daunting but delightful.

The Dutch was similarly atmospheric; like Minetta, it was dark and noisy. The fried oyster sandwich was a wee little brioche bun, the fried oyster wedged in surrounded by a tangy relish. I was gutted I only ordered one. The pork chop was huge and fatty and I almost cried when I had a taste of it as I wasn't the person who ordered it. I was a fool that night.

Pastis was recommended to me as a brunch spot but instead we went for dinner. We were hammered (see below...) but I vaguely remember really enjoying a steak tartare there.

Top of The Standard hotel. My lovely gorgeous wonderful lovely amazing lovely boyfriend (did you just retch?) treated me to a night's stay there, but the bar on the 18th floor is open to all before 10pm. I'd suggest you dress nicely as it's a bit swanky, but great for a cocktail (or, ahem, 3) at sunset with stunning views across the city.

That's not to say I didn't take any pictures though. I mean, come on.

New York turned me into a ramen fiend. On my last visit I sampled the Momofuku pork ramen. This time it was Rai Rai Ken's shio ramen. A clear broth flavoured with a hint of seafood and deep porkiness, the noodles were nice and springy though the slice of pork a bit tough. Nevertheless I have thought of little else since my return. Come ON London, open a decent ramen shop.


We also went to Taisho Yakitori, a tiny place where we sat by the charcoal grill surrounded by chattering Japanese couples, our faces almost pressed up against a cabinet full of raw meat. Chicken skin skewers were part crispy, part juicy and incredibly addictive. Chicken gizzards were challenging as usual, all crunchy and squidgy and offally while pork slices were comfortingly good.

I've found the service in general in New York to be great - always really friendly and welcoming, though as you're expected to tip 15 - 20% I'd bloody well expect it too. The one place that failed on this front was Prune. We popped in for brunch to a large airy room, french windows flung open in the unseasonal 26 degree heat. The restaurant was half full but we were offered a darkened corner, as if they wanted to hide us away. I refused and instead asked to sit by aforementioned windows and in moving the table away slightly as I squeezed in, the waitress jammed it back towards me, muttering about someone not being able to serve someone else or something or whatever. I stopped listening as the grumps took over. Luckily then, that the rock shrimp on toasted brioche with Old Bay-seasoned fries was just perfect.

Lastly, a great cocktail bar we happened upon was Little Branch. Behind a non-descript doorway lies an underground cave of boozy delights, and the bar staff made me several cracking drinks with only my pleas of 'something with gin please!' to go on. And thus concludes another 4 day jaunt to where is easily becoming my 2nd favourite city.

Crab Noodles - Young Cheng, Lisle Street

Chinatown restaurants often get a bad reputation; shoddy service, grubby interiors and that elusive Chinese menu for special Chinese people. It is mostly true, but I'm half Chinese so I don't feel the pain of it much; our waiter at Young Cheng last night said of the English menu - 'it's for all the 'gweilos', don't use that one', he joked in Cantonese. It's not fair but I don't see it changing anytime soon; had I not been with my mother (who reads Chinese; I don't) I'd have been lumped with the inferior menu too.

But what was available to all was on a special laminated card, the lobster or crab noodles. We ordered the latter to start, priced at a very reasonable £12.80. The behemoth above arrived and was what seemed like two crabs, cooked with ginger and spring onion on a bed of crispy noodles. Shell crackers and pickers were provided along with a bowl to wash your hands in.

It's not for people who don't enjoy getting a bit messy. The parts of the crab are smothered in a slightly gloopy savoury sauce, making everything a bit slimy and tricky to manage but as we cracked our way through the shells sucking and picking out the sweet crab meat, I didn't mind one bit. The noodles soaked up the sauce, slowly becoming softer and softer. Easily a meal for two with a vegetable dish on the side, it was quite a bargain.

Young Cheng

22 Lisle Street
London WC2H 7BA

Note there is also a Young Cheng on Shaftesbury Avenue - I'm talking about the Lisle Street branch.

Baccalà Mantecato

Polpetto have had a menu change and when my friend Helen and I went to try it out, we were particularly taken by the mysterious 'baccala mantecato'. Upon further query it turned out to be salt cod, whipped up into a spread and gobsmackingly good. So smooth and creamy it was that I could have sworn it had some potato in, but part-owner Russell Norman told us no, it just requires emulsifying the cod with oil to make a smooth paste; labour-intensive but ultimately worth it.. Though an Italian dish, a holiday in Spain was looming and we'd found salt cod there before, so we began our plan of recreating it.

Our recreation went well - ready-soaked salt cod was simmered briefly and then the hard work came in. To a pestle and mortar we added garlic and parsley and then we pounded the life out of the cod, drizzling oil in slowly and finishing with milk to loosen its texture and give it some body. Though our version was a little more rustic (and green), it had a great texture and was gorgeous smeared on some bread.

Baccalà Mantecato

250gr salt cod, rehydrated. I think this involves a lot of soaking and changing of water over several days - we bought ours already soaked.
A pinch of salt - the salt cod once soaked isn't super salty
1 fat clove of garlic
A handful of parsley
2 tbsp milk
A squeeze of lemon juice
Around 100mls light olive oil, not extra virgin

Simmer the cod in water for 5 minutes, then leave to cool. While warm, break into pieces as small as possible.

In a mortar and pestle, pound the garlic and parsley into a paste. Add the cod and mix vigorously. Roll back your sleeves and get pounding and smooshing as someone else dribbles the oil in, until you get a thick, smooth paste. It needs quite a bit of oil. Loosen with the milk - add on tbsp at a time until it is incorporated - if you feel it's necessary. Serve with toasted bread.

Mackerel with Sorrel Sauce

After finding sorrel at Brockley Market, I then had to find something to do with it. The leaves are light green in colour and when eaten raw, they taste sharp and intensely sour. I'm told that this flavour is caused by oxalic acid which in large quantities is poisoning, so don't go munching kilos of the stuff.

A quick search revealed that it is best with oily fish, so off I went to the fishmonger to get some mackerel. Two plump fillets were so fresh I almost ate a sliver raw. Brandishing my eyebrow tweezers, the small sharp bones were removed and they were fried till the skins were crisp.

The sauce was made very simply by wilting the sorrel leaves, adding double cream and thickening with an egg yolk. Sorrel turns brown very quickly when cooked which makes for a rather unattractive sauce. Tasty though, with the creamy lemon-like flavour working well with the oily fish. Just a handful of steamed new potatoes and a tomato salad was all it needed.

Mackerel with Sorrel Sauce

Serves 2

1 large mackerel, filleted
200gr sorrel chopped roughly
4 tbsp double cream
1 egg yolk
A handful of cherry tomatoes, dressed in balsamic vinegar & oil
Boiled new potatoes, to serve.

In a large non-stick pan, heat up a thin film of oil. Season the fillets with salt and pepper and fry them skin side down until the flesh is almost all completely white. Try not to move them too much as you want a nice crisp skin. Turn over and cook for another 30 seconds and remove to a warmed plate.

Add the leaves to the pan and the double cream and just as they wilt, take off the heat and beat in the egg yolk until you get a thick, creamy sauce. Season if needed and serve the mackerel fillets on top with the potatoes and tomato salad.

Duck Soup, Soho

I broke the rule of not visiting a restaurant on its very first service but what the hey; if they're taking my money, I'm going to spout my opinion. So there's your disclaimer.

I've become a little bit habitual with my lunch options in Soho. Often I eat at my desk but when I get the chance for an actual real life proper hour long lunch break I seize the opportunity and then end up back at Koya or Moolis. I love those places, but when a friend suggested we lunch it was time to try something new and it just so happened that Duck Soup was opening today. With no signage, my friend walked straight past and doubled back on himself. We perched on high chairs at the bar and a waitress wrestled with a black board for small plates at £3.50, then wrestled with another with £7 dishes on, and finally almost dropped the thing spinning it round to reveal the larger £14 plates. And then we had to remember what was on them. I'm not sure if that's a temporary solution but it seemed awkward and cumbersome. Anyway, we made our choices and settled in.

Smoked mackerel with tomatoes (top) was a gorgeous little plateful; the mackerel in particular was soft and silky, gentler than any I've had. Bread was offered and accepted gratefully, and the white creamy butter slathered on went down a treat. I think I'd prefer to have known we'd be charged £2 for it though.

Tete de Moine was a pungent cheese, served in pretty curls made by a girolle. It tasted of farmyard and made an ample cheese sandwich with aforementioned bread.

Raw ceps with lardo and Berkswell was excellent. The earthy mushrooms worked well with the salty Parmesan-like cheese, while the lardo offered a background hint of pig.

And then we waited. And waited. And waited some more. When I enquired after our last dish dish, our waitress apologetically told us it would be an additional 7 minutes. I liked how precise she was.

When it finally turned up, the quail with burnt lemons and saffron mayonnaise was exemplary. Crispy little birds cooked pink were tender and juicy, their flavour accentuated by a a squirt of lemon and a smidge of mayonnaise.

Our bill came to £35 with service; we'd drank only water, so it's not a cheap every day lunch. I really enjoyed the food; the team, former employees of Hix, obviously pick their ingredients well. We emerged an hour and 15 minutes after we sat down and I wasn't full enough that the run back to work was uncomfortable. I'm certain the long wait was first day glitches and I'm keen to go back and try some more of the menu. I hope they'll make a duck soup.

Duck Soup

41 Dean Street,
London, W1D 4PY