Faggots

I recently offered my services to Simon Majumdar of Dos Hermanos, when he asked for someone to test a recipe for faggots for a forthcoming book. Certain friends gave me the nickname 'Faggot', as my surname almost rhymes with it, and since I'd never tried them before I jumped at the chance.

The recipe recommends adding pigs heart, but upon visiting my butcher and asking for pigs liver, pigs heart and caul fat (which the faggots are traditionally wrapped in), he couldn't help me. These cuts are not in vogue, and so they don't sell them. Morrisons helped me out with the pig liver though; they have an astonishing range of alternative cuts of meat. Alas, another obstacle - I visited no less than 4 supermarkets and not one of them had sage in stock. Apparently all the Canadians had snapped it up for their Thankgiving stuffings. I persevered and was rewarded with this handsome meal.

This is seriously rib-sticking stuff; perfect for this autumnal weather. The seasoning was spot on. Rich and deeply meaty with a hint of liver here and there, the faggots were juicy without being greasy. The thyme flavoured the faggots nicely, and the only criticism I had was that I felt they needed a touch more sage. I had an accident while hand-mincing a slab of pork belly, and I almost took the top of my index finger off; much bleeding ensued and the rest of the mincing wasn't as fine as it could have been.

Welsh Faggots

Makes 6 Faggots

500gms Pork Belly (trim off the skin and, unless you are a savage, keep to make crackling)

250gms Pigs Liver

250gms Lamb Breast

125gms Pig Heart (optional, but adds real flavour)

125gms of breadcrumbs (made using day old bread)

1 Large white onion (finely chopped)

1 Teaspoon of Salt

1 Teaspoon of white pepper

1 Teaspoon fresh sage (finely chopped)

1 Teaspoon fresh thyme (finely chopped)

If you can find caul fat at your butcher all the better, but if not, strips of good unsmoked back bacon will do just as well.

Mince all the meats together, mixing to make sure they are combined. Add the onion, the salt, pepper and herbs and mince once more to the texture of a rough pate. Add the breadcrumbs and mix well. Form the mixture into cricket ball sized balls and wrap in caul fat or in a criss-cross of bacon. Chill in the refrigerator for at least one hour to firm. Bake in a pre-heated oven at around 180c/350f/Gas 4 for fifty minutes to an hour. Serve with a thick rich gravy and a bowl of homemade mushy peas doused liberally with malt vinegar. I added a glob of mint sauce to my mushy peas which also worked brilliantly.

Simon's book is out next May. If all the recipes are as good as this, it will be well worth buying.

(Any leftover faggots work fantastically chopped up into bubble and squeak...)

Le Cassoulet

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I've heard many good things about Le Cassoulet. Malcolm John's restaurant is located in deepest, darkest Croydon and I was surprised to find bloggers trekking out there to visit it. Handily enough, Croydon is mere 20 minute train ride for me. This made it prime pick for my birthday lunch with my parents, as it's half way for us.

Arriving in South Croydon, it struck me as an unsual place to have a restaurant awarded a Bib Gourmand by Michelin. It's located on a quiet high street, not a soul in sight save one lone hobo, who jittered up and down the stretch no less than 3 times in as many hours. Entering the restaurant, it was virtually empty and we were seated. Fresh warm bread was brought out with room temperature butters, one of which was a delicious anchovy butter. Oh how I love anchovies.

To start, I couldn't resist the steak tartare (above), though I know of a friend who raves about the chicken liver parfait. I was hoping one of my parents would order the parfait so that I could snaffle some, but they went for the escargots. While my dish was amusingly presented, I really enjoyed this. With properly hand minced beef, I was able to regulate exactly how much egg yolk went in (just a touch) and how many capers, gherkins and shallots would season it (all of it). We were off to a good start.

After much lingering over the menu, I went for the oxtail ravioli with celeriac puree and chanterelles.

While the pasta wasn't as silky smooth and thin as the example I had at Le Querce, the filling was meaty and had a great depth of flavour. The chanterelles added a great earthy flavour and were cooked well. A comforting dish, though I'd have prefered a little less celeriac puree, and a bit more of the sauce to moisten it more.

Dad felt it was his duty to have the eponymous cassoulet. Unfortunately it was a little burnt on top - I think I would have complained, but Pops is terribly British. Nevertheless, he enjoyed it, especially as he found nuggets of duck hearts. Having procured myself a little taste the white beans were perfectly cooked and didn't melt into a mush, as it can sometimes too. Intensely flavoured with duck and pork, it was a real rib sticker. It's something I'd really like to recreate at home.

Mum's razor clams in a Calvados and parsley cream sauce was a generous portion. The meat was sweet and tender, the sauce deceptively light, making a great chip-dip. The frites served with this dish deserve a mention. They were wonderfully crunchy and salty, encasing a fluffy centre and were perhaps the best example that I've had this year - high praise, as I have munched rather a lot of frites.


Though I was pretty full by this point, I decided to to share the tarte tatin, with vanilla ice cream. Having been told it would be a 20 minute wait, we uncouthly popped out for a quick smoke and the time passed by pleasantly. The tarte was served at the table, and it really was the highlight of the meal. The apples were cooked so that they were soft enough to cut with a spoon, but not mushy. A light caramel sweetened the dish, while the flaky, buttery pastry was a thing of great beauty. I would return for this alone.

Throughout the meal, our server was sweet and unobtrusive. She seemed a little confused at times ("what does the dish come with, do I need any sides?" "Erm... do you want any sides?") but did her job well, especially as the restaurant filled up to bustling as the afternoon went on.

For a 3 course lunch from an extensive set menu at £20, this is excellent value. Yes, there were faults with the meal such as a slightly burnt cassoulet, escargots that needed more garlic, but nevertheless I thought there was good skill behind the dishes and it was great hearty fare. I will definitely be returning; there's chicken liver parfait and chateaubriand to be sampled. Another great local(ish) discovery.

Le Cassoulet

18 Selsdon Road
South Croydon
CR2 6PA

Tel: 020 8633 1818

Website

Stuffed Tofu

Often people will tell me they don't like tofu. I find this hard to believe, mainly because there are so many different types and different ways in cooking it. Sure, if you've been subjected to tofu burgers, or that hideous Cauldron marinated stuff, then I can understand.

But tofu, especially bought fresh, is wonderous; from Ma Po Tofu to Agedashi Tofu, it shows that tofu isn't just reserved just for the vegetarian or vegan. Fresh silken tofu is, as the name suggests silky in the mouth with a clean and refreshing flavour. A particular favourite of mine is the tofu you can buy already deep-fried at the Chinese supermarket. When stuffed and then braised in sauce it takes on a lovely, spongy, juicy quality that's full of flavour.

This is quite a common Cantonese recipe. Traditionally white fish is pounded until it is a paste, and then when cooked it takes on a bouncy texture. It's a dish my grandmother used to make, either with a combination of pork and prawn or fish and it a very comforting dish to me, redolent of family meals in Hong Kong. The table would heave with several dishes, such as this tofu dish, some vegetables, and a meat dish all to be added to your bowl of rice.

Fish-Stuffed Fried Tofu in Black Bean Sauce

Serves 4 as part of a multi-dish meal or 2 as a main

For the tofu:

10 or 15 cubes of tofu
200gr white fish (I used pollack)
1 spring onion, minced finely
1" cube of ginger, chopped finely
2 tsp light soy sauce
1/2 tsp white pepper
A few dashes of sesame oil
4 tbsp vegetable oil
1 tsp cornflour
1 egg white

For the sauce:

2 tbsp black beans, chopped
1 tbsp dark soy
1 tbsp Chinese rice wine
2 tsp light soy
1/5 tsp sugar
1 tsp black vinegar
100ml chicken stock or water
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 spring onion, sliced on the diagonal
1 tsp of cornflour slackened with 2 tsp water

Slice the tofu cubes in half and remove the inner white bits. In a food processor, add the stuffing mixture and process into a paste. Chop the black beans finely and add to a separate bowl with the dark soy, rice wine, light soy, sugar, and vinegar. Mix well to make a thick, viscous sauce. Add the water or chicken stock.

Stuff the fish paste into the tofu, over stuffing it a touch, as it will shrink. This is best done with a teaspoon and fingers. Heat the oil in a wok and fry the tofu gently, fish side down, for 5 minutes. Then add in the garlic and stir gently until fragrant. Add the sauce mixture and cover. Simmer for 10 minutes on a medium heat, stirring carefully, occasionally. Then add the cornflour mixture and simmer until thickened, finally garnishing with the spring onion. Serve with rice.

Onion & Anchovy Pasta

This is probably one of the dishes I cook most often. I first got the recipe from the BBC Food Messageboards, apparently a Venetian dish and it frankly sounded a little bizarre. Onions, anchovies, parsley and pasta? That's it? I was dubious. After I made it though, I was completely converted.

So, when I was gifted this jar of anchovies my friend brought back from Spain, I knew this dish was destined to be in my belly in the near future. The plump anchovies were a world away from the brown paper thin ones you get in tins, and made this dish as tasty as ever. The onions, cooked ever-so-slowly over 40 or so minutes, turn into a sweet mush, while the anchovies melt into it, emulsifying it into a perfectly balanced sauce with the freshness of the parsley flecks completing it. The anchovies lend a deep umami flavour without an overly fishy flavour. I thoroughly recommend you try it, but don't try and fancify it; red onions definitely do not work, and don't be tempted to add any Parmesan to it. Spaghetti works well with this, but even better as I discovered this time, is bucatini. It has a spaghetti shape but is slightly thicker with a hole and it holds the sauce well.

Onion & Anchovy Pasta

Serves 2

3 large white onions
8 anchovies (the ones in oil, not fresh)
A large handful of fresh parsley
200gr pasta - spaghetti or bucatini
A little milk
Salt & pepper

Soak the anchovy fillets in a little milk. Slice the onions into a half moon shape thinly and chop the parsley finely. In a pan, fry the onions in some oil in a pan on the lowest heat you have, with the lid on. Stir occasionally, and if they start to stick add a splash of water. 30 minutes later, put the pasta on to cook. Add the anchovies to the onions with the milk. Stir the sauce until the anchovies disintegrate. This will probably look a bit grim, but it will emulsify into a sauce. Add a dash of milk if it gets dry. Drain the pasta, reserving 4 tbsp of the cooking water. Add the pasta to the sauce and toss to coat, adding the water if it needs it. Scatter in the parsley, grind over plenty of fresh pepper and add salt to taste.

The Sportsman, Seasalter

On the Kentish coast of Seasalter sits The Sportsman. This pub / restaurant has been much talked about, and was this year awarded a Michelin star. Not only does head chef, Stephen Harris cure his own ham, they churn their own butter and even make their own salt from the sea water 50 metres from their door.

A gaggle of my girlfriends come from Whitstable, mere miles away and driving past a few months ago, face pressed to the window, I marvelled at it's remote location. Last Friday morning (they don't do tasting menus at the weekend), I found myself at Victoria station, running for a train to take me to the seaside.

We were fortuitous; the day we picked was beautifully sunny. A quick cab ride took us to the place, and we had a quick look at the sea before heading inside to commence our lunch. The restaurant is sparsely furnished; bare wooden floors match bare wooden tables. It was impressively pub-like for somewhere recognised by Michelin.

The tables were decorated with all sorts of weirdly shaped squashes, from the vegetable garden round the back. After a Bloody Mary pick-me-up we were asked if we wanted a menu or a surprise. We picked the latter. The first natives of the season came out on a bed of clam shells, topped with a slice of chorizo. The oyster was creamy and briny; the chorizo spicy and salty. We were off to a good start.

Next up, we were presented with Gloucester Old Spot pork scratchings with a wholegrain mustard dip, alongside herrings with gooseberry jelly and cream cheese on a rye bread square. Those pork scratchings were addictive. Appropriately salty, slightly chewy, definitely crunchy, we jealously eyed up the remaining morsels, like a Mexican stand-off. On the other side, the herring skewer was a contrast; firm fresh herring meat, slightly tart fruity jelly with a hint of luxuriousness. The excitement was reaching peak level.

On paper, this poached oyster with gooseberry granita and Jersey cream sounds like it would be a bit odd. Sour gooseberries, with cream? However, it worked. The oyster was barely poached, the granita giving a lightness and the cream was thick and unctuous. I enjoyed it, but at the end of the meal I felt that this was the dish that stood out the least.

Bread, which I'm usually neither here nor there about, was served warm with the home-made butter. The butter had a fudgy consistency, and the dark brown, rye-like bread was my favourite. Slightly sweet and nutty, I had to stop myself from stuffing myself silly with it.

Slipsole in seaweed butter was simply presented and simply cooked. The fish slid off the bone beautifully and revealed sweet meat. It showed Harris' deft skills in cooking something that relies so much on its quality, which was top.

Crab risotto was stunning. The intense brown crab flavour in the rice was rich but not overwhelming. It was a perfect portion size as this really was a flavoursome dish that whalloped you full-on in the face. The pile of white crabmeat was contrasted sweetly with the intense umami-rich rice it sat atop.

Home-cured ham was a little dry, but flavoursome in a rustic, heavily porcine way. I admire Harris curing his ham from his own pigs. The fat was silky and melted happily on the tongue.

This was my absolute favourite dish of the meal. Wild turbot teetered on some mineral-rich greenery (spinach perhaps?) surrounded by a smoked herring roe sauce. The sauce was dramatically grey which pleased me, but put off another guest at our table. The flesh was bouncy, so fresh and well matched with the sauce that I didn't want it to end. The plate looked as though it had been licked clean.

Breaded lamb belly slices hid a strong hit of mustard underneath the crumb. The mint sauce gave a welcome freshness to the fatty meat, introducing the meat course well.

Rack of lamb and a nugget of the shoulder were, again, simply cooked. The shoulder was tender and well layered with fat. The little lamb chop was cooked to perfection, and I picked up the bone to have a little discreet gnaw. Another example of the chef letting the natural quality of the flavours shine through.

This blackberry lollipop in cake milk heralded the arrival of the sweeter courses. I wondered what cake milk was, and Stephen, who introduced a few of our courses explained "milk that tastes like cake". And so it did! The blackberry lolly was of the frozen type, and reminded me of jelly and ice cream.

I never really have high hope for desserts, as I'm not a sweet lover myself. However, this filled me with delight. Apple parfait, drizzled with salted caramel and hazelnuts, topped with a sweet caramel wafer, and a quenelle of blackberry sorbet. It was a large portion, but I gobbled it all up happily. Salted caramel really is my new favourite thing.

And to finish, this platter of desserts. Rhubarb and custard sorbet had the added surprise of popping candy, while a shot of chocolate mousse was light as a feather. Lemon and raspberry tart was so delicate I nearly crushed it between my oafish fingers. A candied plum was what it was, and right at the end, the sponge soaked in walnut liquer was nice, but somewhat plain and therefore the weakest of the lot.

Wine prices were almost absurdly reasonable. Stephen explained to us that a lot of the customers have been there before, and don't want to feel ripped off by 300-500% mark-ups. While London restaurants might be able to get away with it, not so here. We started with a couple bottles of Sancerre Clos des Bouffants Roger Neveu 2007 Loire Valley, priced at £21.95. This was crisp, slightly grassy with a hint of tropical flavours that went perfectly with the seafood. For the meaty courses, a 1999 bottle of Château Fourcas-Dumont Listrac Medoc Bordeaux was vanilla-scented, robust and great value at £24.95. We later switched to a slightly chilled Runnymead Pinot Noir which was lighter on the palate and really quite quaffable, before finishing on a glass of delicious Moscatel.


I tried to edit this post down to include less pictures, less waffle to hold your attention more but truth be told, I couldn't bear not sharing it all - I enjoyed this meal so much. True, it is a bit of a schlep being about 1.5 hours away from London, but a good 4 or 5 hour lunch is worth a little effort, especially given it was such incredible value; an aperitif, the tasting menu, a share of the 6 bottles of wine consumed between 5 of us came to £94 each, including the well-deserved 10% tip.

We were the first to arrive and the last to leave, truly the sign of a good lunch. After we waddled out of the restaurant, we decided a stroll along the beach to Whitstable was in order. The waiting staff told us it would take around an hour - after jumping over a groyn every 20 metres it came to more like 1.5 hours. Still, it was a scenic walk and more than enough to blow out the post-lunch snooze.

A full Flickr set of the day can be seen by clicking here.

The Sportsman

Faversham Road
Seasalter
Whitstable
Kent CT5 4BP

Tel: 01227 273370

We came here by public transport. A return ticket from London Victoria to Faversham costs £12 when booked as part of a group and 5 of us in a cab from Faversham came to £15.

Decadence

A friend turned up at my flat on Saturday with this little beasty, picked up from F. C. Soper in Nunhead. I was beside myself with excitement.

A quick split down the middle, a few bashes with a spanner (I had nothing else), and several minutes spraying myself with lobster viscera later...

With some freshly baked bread, butter, truffle mayonnaise, and a wodge of lemon made for a perfect dinner.

Polpo, Soho

As I rushed hurriedly down Dean Street in Soho, I suddenly remembered that Beak Street, where Polpo is located, is off Carnaby Street, a good 5 minutes brisk pace away. I was in entirely the wrong area. I burst into the restaurant, late and slightly sweating, and took my seat next to my friend at the bar.

Polpo is a Venetian baraco or wine bar, serving small plates of Italian food. I first heard about it on Twitter, and having heard some good things in the preview nights before it opened, I was looking forward to going. The menu is divided into cicchetti & crostini, breads, meat, fish, vegetables and desserts. We picked a few of these along with a 1/4 litre bottle of a robust red, and settled back. On only its second day of being open, the place was pretty full and had a great buzz to it. Exposed brickwork made the place feel homely, while my friend admired the stressed effect the paintwork had one one wall. Soon our order of arancini (risotto balls), salt cod on polenta, and fig, mint and proscuitto crostini arrived.

The salt cod on polenta was surprisingly but not unpleasantly cold. Arancini, piping hot were gorgeous and creamy, without a hint of stodge. The fig's natural sweetness was perfectly balanced with the saltiness of the proscuitto. I was starting to fall in love with the place.

Next up, a dramatically dark dish of cuttlefish cooked in its own ink with gremolata arrived. This was rich and tasted of the sea, the tender meat was lifted by the gremolata. I fretted over the colour of my teeth.

Mussels and clams were garlicky and buttery. I'd have preferred a couple more clams, but the mussels were plump and meaty. At this point we realised some bread would be good to mop up all the juices. A pizzetta bianco turned up and it was crisp, flaky and utterly gorgeous. We didn't end up dipping the bread but scarfed it, unadulterated.

We had one last dish to come, slow roasted duck with green peppercorns and black olives. The barman told us the dishes come out as and when they're ready, but nevertheless we waited for some time. We were offered some complimentary bread, which was another delicious pizzetta bianco. Finally, our duck dish turned up.

The meat was cooked to tenderness, and the tomato sauce given a little kick from the heat of the green peppercorns. The cherry tomatoes were juicy and bursting with flavour. By the time we'd finished, we'd been there for a good hour and a half. I had well and truly fallen in love with the place. I sprinted back to work, full and happy, excited about the prospect of telling all my friends about it. I can't wait to return to try out more of the menu, perhaps in the evening when I can take my time over it.

Lunch for two with wine and service came to £50.

Polpo

41 Beak Street,
London, W1F 9SB

Tel: 020 7734 4479