El Celler de Can Roca, Girona

I've never been to a three Michelin-starred restaurant. We were besides ourselves with excitement at the prospect of dinner at El Celler de Can Roca, in Girona. It was to be our final dinner of a 5 day holiday.

The earliest slot they did was 9pm, and when we arrived to a deathly silence there was only one other table seated. No tinkling of a piano, no music at all, my heels clattered embarrassingly along the wooden floor as I walked to the toilets. After a complimentary glass of cava, we decided to go all out with the Feast menu.

A small tree, its branches dangling with olives arrived, caramelised on the outside and flavoured with anchovy. It was a weird sensation to eat sweet olives with fish. A succession of amuses followed, many anchovy based. One lovely delicate sphere filled with a fruity bellini was the most memorable, no less because my big fat sausage fingers smashed it open on picking it up.

Mushroom brioche flavoured with truffle, served with pot au feu consomme was a bizarre combination. The pot au feu was very lightly flavoured, almost tasteless though quite palate-cleansing. Far better was the smooth, creamy smoked herring roe 'omelette'; the texture was as if it was in a jelly bubble. A smooth, gamey pigeon liver dome was perfunctory.


A smoke-filled dome followed, and opening it revealed round wrinkly spheres. These were roasted vegetables with anchovy in a broth. I remarked it tasted as our holiday had been thus far; full of anchovies (we were staying in L'Escala, where they are a speciality), padron peppers and barbeque smoke.

The requisite foie gras course was visually appealing. A quartered fig was sweet and ripe, a figgy reduction coating the bottom of the bowl to mingle with the liquid foie gras. However, the truffle oil drizzled on top overwhelmed the subtle flavours entirely.

A singular prawn approached us next, from Palermo just down the road. There was an element of fun in its presentation; the white prawn snow was studded with little tentacles and a tiny green edible cactus or two. A tray of wet napkins followed next, and we were ordered to eat the body along with the sand, finishing off with a good suck on the head. Barely cooked, the flesh was tender and translucent. The prawn sand was of pure prawn flavour and the head was almost entirely off-putting; blood red liquid nestled within it, presumably added by the kitchen. I took a deep breath and went for it; the intense flavour was jaw dropping. It is not for the squeamish.

Onion soup with crespia walnuts and Comte cheese was again, intense. The most oniony of onion flavours, with a cheesy background. It was rich and filling. I started to waver at around this point. We'd opted to go booze-free for budgetary reasons, and all those massive flavours were starting to get to me. It probably didn't help that they have the most uncomfortable chairs ever there; leaning back meant your bra strap would dig right into your back so we sat awkwardly straight.

I was gently nudged back into form by the next course. A grilled fillet of sole was served with a variety of sauces. We were instructed to start with the green dill sauce, moving up to camomile, then orange, pine nut and finally olive oil. Each of these were a delight; so different to each other, yet working beautifully with the fish. A sphere of olive oil on the final puree burst pleasantly in the mouth to finish the dish off.

Baby squid with onion rocks was my favourite dish of the night. The onion 'rock' was squidgy, the baby squid completely melt in the mouth. The flavours worked beautifully together, all lightened by the foam.

Red mullet with suquet and lard confirmed that the chefs sure know their seafood. The fish was cooked so delicately, the flesh was incredibly tender and moist. The sauce reminded me of bisque, so full-on a whallop of the essence of the sea.

Steak tartare, one of the dishes that made me want the Feast menu, was the straw that broke our companion's back. He looked pale, yet flushed and after a mouthful he declared himself done. Cancelling the rest of his menu with wild gesticulation, the previous days' indulgences had caught up with him and he went off for a purge. We soldiered on gamely. The little globules of mustard ice cream made for a great contrast in the room temperature meat; a grape reduction sweetened the mouthful, but I found the hollow potato pillows to be superfluous.

Our final savoury course was lamb with apricot and peach terrine. I could have done without this, to be honest; while visually appealing, it didn't strike me as being anything special and I found the very fatty lamb paired with the fruit to be a bit odd. The milky blob was a cheesy sort of sauce, topped with a little curry powder; after a taste, this was abandoned completely.

The lemon distillate sherbert was a life-saver and a stomach reviver. Lemon acid foam, bergamot jelly and cubes of lemon cake was deliciously refreshing and woke us up from a slack-jawed stupor.

Rose souffle drew gasps from us, and our friend who fell by the wayside looked a touch put out. The cream, held together by a perfectly clear sugar construction was decadent, while the flavour of the rose played off beautifully with the lychee puree and teeny tiny wild strawberries in the bottom.

Our last course came presented on an enormous plate. It was explained to us that on the left was Tahitian vanilla ice cream, while the pile on the right was comprised of ingredients the chef thought made an accurate representation of the Tahitian vanilla. I can't say I agree, though the spheres of normal vanilla, jelly cubes, licorice, cocoa and stunningly black olive was a mind boggling combination.

Petit fours, usually one step too far for me were accomplished, and we cooed over the Irish coffee marshmallow. For me, Can Roca's best efforts lay in the desserts.

At 145 Euros for the Feast menu, it's not cheap. We mused over what had made my friend bow out and barf three times; was it previous indulgence? Perhaps the late start time? We were absolutely shattered by the 1am finish; us Brits just aren't used to eating so late, and we marvelled at a couple who sat down at their table at midnight. There was one over-riding feeling with all the savoury courses, and that while some were stunning, it was all just so intense. This was a word we used over and over.

El Celler de Can Roca

Can Sunyer, 48
17007 Girona, Spain

Chipotle & Tamarind Ketchup

Chipotle chillis are smoke-dried jalapenos, used in a lot of Mexican cooking. I haven't had much experience of Mexican cooking myself but I do know that I am utterly addicted to these shrivelly brown little numbers.

They are pretty fiesty; I chucked in a whole chipotle into this recipe and the results set alight to the mouth; ideal for me, really. What you get is a gorgeously sticky, sweet, tangy and fiery sauce to dip your whatevers into. Sweetcorn fritters were my dipper of choice this time, but I imagine some totopos (that's nachos, innit?) would make a good vehicle too. When I ran out of fritter I just used a spoon.

You can buy chipotles in Bethnal Green, at Casa Mexico. You can also shop there online.


Chipotle & Tamarind Ketchup

1 chipotle chilli
1 decent tin of plum tomatoes
Half a white onion
1" of ginger
2 cloves of garlic
2 sprigs of thyme
1 tsp tamarin pulp
2 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt

In a small saucepan, simmer the chipotle chilli in water for about 20 minutes, until soft. Either remove the seeds or leave in whole. Mince finely with the onion, garlic, ginger and thyme (I used a mini chopper) and then add a little oil to make a paste. Fry this on a low heat in a saucepan for a good 10 - 15 minutes until deep brown and fragrant.

Drain the juices from the tin of the plum tomatoes (save it for your bloody mary...) and then pulverise the tomato. Add to the chilli mix, season, add the tamarind and the sugar and simmer on the lowest heat for a good 40 - 45 minutes, stirring occasionally. It will initially make plopping fart noises, decorating your hob with specks of red until the liquid separates a bit.

After this, work the sauce through a fine mesh - unless you like it slightly chunky, in which case don't.

Indian Corn Salsa

Grilling corn takes ages, especially when the lashing rain won't allow you to get that barbeque out. But patience is rewarding as the corn caramelises beautifully, making the kernels nutty, with a bit of chew. Combined with lime juice, coriander, red onion and some typical Indian spices it made a great and refreshing accompaniment to a spicy aubergine curry.

Indian Corn Salsa

Makes enough for 4 as a side

2 corn on the cobs
Half a red onion
6 curry leaves
1 tsp cumin
1 lime
1 green chilli
1 tbsp vegetable oil
A small handful of coriander

Smear the cobs with oil and place under a hot grill. Turn occasionally, until the kernels are browned. When they've cooled down slice the kernels off the cob into a bowl. Add 1 tbsp of oil to a pan and when it's hot, add the cumin seeds and when they've started popping, add the curry leaves. Take off the heat and add to the corn. Squeeze in the lime juice and add the red onion, chopped finely along with the chilli. Season to taste. Chop the coriander and add last.

A Lobster Bisque

Last week we dispatched some lobsters. I'd like to say we did it humanely, but we dropped them straight into that bubbling pan. Sorry.


The meat was delicious. Sweet and tender, dipped into home made mayonnaise I preferred it to the clarified butter. Little legs were sucked of any meat within and we sprayed ourselves with viscera extracting every morsel. Hunks of bread were also slathered with mayonnaise and we pondered over what lucky sods we were.


None of it should go to waste though; any juices lost on pulling out the meat was collected in a baking tray. The leftover shells went into a huge stock pot with the juices and along with carrot, onion, celery, bay and herbs this was simmered for a few hours, to be turned into a light bisque. The resultant soup, finished off with cream had a strong hit of the seaside. Heavy on the lobster flavour, it was the perfect use for what is usually just destined for the bin. Had we had any lobster meat leftover it would have been good to add that too, but really - who has leftover lobster meat?


Lobster Bisque

Serves 4

The shells of 3 lobsters
1 onion
2 carrots
2 sticks of celery
A few peppercorns
2 bay leaves
A handful of parsley
A few sprigs of thyme
Enough water to cover the above
2 tbsp tomato puree
1 potato, diced (optional)
70ml double cream
A good glug of brandy

Get all the aromatics in the pot with the lobster shells and bring to the simmer. Simmer for a good few hours with the lid off, topping up with more water to cover half way through. After about 3 hours, strain it and then reduce by at least half - taste every so often and when it's deep enough in flavour, it's done. If you like a thicker soup, add the potato 30 minutes before you finish and then puree the soup.

Turn it on low, add the tomato puree stirring well, and then add the brandy. Simmer off the alcohol and then add the cream, stirring well. Garnish with a few leaves of parsley (I also added some slivered leeks but that's optional) and serve.

Bubble Tea

Bubble teas are the drink of my childhood. Served in plastic cup with huge, wide straws in which to suck up the tapioca balls, bubble teas aren't always made with tea. Sometimes they're made with coffee, and sometimes with fruit juice. The most pleasing thing about them is the tapioca balls that provide texture. Smooth, cold fruit juice is interspersed with a pearl of chewy, gooey tapioca. Other ingredients are also used, often fruit or coconut jellies and sometimes red aduki beans.

The bubbles don't refer to the tapioca pearls though; they are usually blended to create them, which results in a slight froth, or bubbliness and this is where they get their name. Originating from Taiwan, they are often made with powders.

After a friend gifted me with a pack of tapioca pearls purchased in a Chinese supermarket in Dalston, I set about making a fruity version. Watermelons were going cheap down the road in Peckham, so I picked up a segment. The chunks went into the blender along with a few handfuls of ice cubes, the juice of half a lime and some sugar syrup. Blended up, it made a refreshing and thirst-quenching drink. I am only sad I didn't have a giant straw to suck the pearls up with, and had to resort to a spoon instead.

Watermelon Bubble Tea

Makes around 2 pints

1/3 of a watermelon
Juice of half a lime
2 tbsp sugar
4 tbsp water
Two big handfuls of ice cubes
A handful of tapioca pearls

In a large pan full of water, simmer the tapioca pearls for 15 - 20 minutes, until tender. Drain and divide in two, placing them in the bottom of two glasses.

In a small saucepan, simmer the 4 tbsp water with the 2 tbsp of sugar to make the sugar syrup. Simmer until the sugar has dissolved. Add to a blender with the watermelon, ice and lime and blend well.

Pour into the two glasses and serve, preferably with a humungous straw.

Ben Greeno's Supperclub

Deep in the heart of Hackney, Ben Greeno cooks up a storm maybe twice or three times a week at his flat. We navigated the streets of East London, armed with wine. On entry, we were armed with a glass of deliciously fizzy cider and were directed towards a bowl of radishes, a roasted pepper sauce and basil emulsion to dip them in. Guests were confused and bemused by their leafy tops. I munched them up.

I first heard about Ben Greeno cooking at Nuno Mendes' Loft Project. Having had worked at Copenhagen's Noma, he has a great background but the £125 'membership fee' was too prohibitive. Much more wallet friendly was the £35 menu he was serving up.

As we stuffed delicious hunks of bread slathered with nasturtium flavoured butter, we met our fellow guests. Four Singaporeans sitting immediately next to us kept us entertained, and there were many guffaws throughout the night. The first course looked simple enough; carrots. But lurking underneath the carrots were sour cherries that had been steeped in dashi. They were intensely savoury, and I mopped up the umboshi sauce with the carrot. Looks can be deceiving.

Next was one of my favourite courses of the night. Raw slices of mackerel were dotted with a tart berry sauce - jostaberries, not one I've heard of before. Peppery watercress was scattered over the plate, and sweetness came from apples Ben had picked earlier today. A stand-out dish, a perfect balance of a sour, fruity foil to the mackerel's richness.

Slow-cooked egg burst seductively over the plate, saucing the next dish. Pork rillette, wrapped in Brik (a Moroccan, filo-style of pastry) was accompanied by pretty flowers and intensely sweet onions. I would buy a sous vide just to make that gooey, creamy egg.

Lamb belly was paired with roasted parsnips and parsnip puree. The fat! The silky, mouth-coating fat was absolutely incredible, the meat tender as anything.

Blobs of lemon curd, blackcurrants, sweetcorn and rose meringue was intruiging. Sweetcorn is used in some Chinese desserts, but not any I had tried. Their sweetness was key here. Slightly chewy, they provided excellent texture to the smooth curd and the juiciness of the blackcurrants. The rose flavour in the meringue was so very subtle, and I only noticed it when it was pointed out to me. Ginger crumbs finished the dish off nicely, rounding it together with warm spice.

Ben Greeno was an excellent host, sitting down with us to chat after the plates had been cleared away. To my astonishment, soon it was 1am and we were drunk as hell with no signs of our host waning. We even snacked on more pork rillette, bread and pickled walnuts; not that we were left wanting, but given the opportunity I wasn't about to say no - have I ever mentioned my love for all things pickled? It was a week night though and the work dread set in, so cabs were called and we were whisked off into the night, replete.

I suggest you can go while you can; talent and food like this should not be passed up on.

Booking details are on the website below:

http://bengreeno.wordpress.com/

Pork Roll in Banana Leaves

A new Asian supermarket has opened up down the road from my flat, on New Cross Road. When I first noticed it, I bounded inside to be greeted by empty shelves. I gave it a few weeks and returned; while it's still quite sparse, there's fresh tofu in the chiller, big bags of frozen seafood, a whole wall of shelf space dedicated to instant noodles and another wall with all the dried rice noodles you could want for.

There's a strong focus on Vietnamese products and I found this lump of pork in the fridge. Pork roll in banana leaves wasn't cheap coming in at £6, but I bought it anyway. I suspect the slightly clueless man serving me was unsure of pricing. Unwrapping it from its banana leaves revealed what I suspected; a rubbery luncheon meat. It may be off-putting for some, but I'm a huge fan of Spam so it didn't faze me at all.

Perfect for whacking on top of a noodle salad. I believe this is usually eaten cold, or dropped into noodle soups. I decided to fry them in a hot pan so that they crisped up on each side to give it a nice crust. Having tried a slice cold the banana leaves imparted more flavour than I thought it would; slightly vegetal, almost reminiscent of green tea. This salad worked really well; crispy hot salty pork freshened up with the herbs and nuoc cham sauce, with a hefty whack of lime and face-burning chilli. The noodles were properly chewty, flinging bits of dressing all over the place.

Vietnamese Pork & Noodle Salad

Serves 4

400gr dried vermicelli rice noodles
1 carrot
1/2 a cucumber
1 head of Little Gem lettuce
2 stalks of spring onion
1 carrot
1/2 a cucumber
1 Vietnamese pork roll, cut into 8 slices
A handful of coriander
Half a handful of mint
1 tbsp vegetable oil
5 tbsp rice vinegar
1 tsp sesame oil

For the nuoc cham dressing:
2 birds eye chillis
1 tsp sugar
1.5 limes
4 tbsp fish sauce
1 small clove of garlic

Cut the carrot into matchsticks. In a bowl combine the rice vinegar and sesame oil. Halve the cucumber down the middle and scrape out the seeds and pulp, slicing into matchsticks. Add the carrot and cucumber to the bowl and toss to coat.

Cook the rice noodles until soft and then drain, rinsing them under cold water for at least a minute.

In a small bowl, juice the limes and add the fish sauce and sugar. Slice the chillis and mince the garlic, adding them to the lime.

Shred the lettuce and the spring onion, setting to one side. Chop the coriander and the mint roughly. Heat the oil in a non-stick pan and fry the slices of pork on both sides until crispy.

To assemble, add the noodles to a bowl and top with some carrots and cucumber, the lettuce, spring onion and herbs, finally arranging the slices of pork on top. Dress the dish with the nuoc cham.