Rockfish, Brixham

As well accomplished The Elephant's food was, the experience seemed cold and passionless. Our lunch the next day at Rockfish in Brixham was a total contrast; the service was warm, knowledgeable and friendly, and the room had a cheerful airiness to it. 

Opened by Mat Prowse and Mitch Tonks, Rockfish sits right on the fish harbour at Brixham, meaning the day's catch barely has to travel to get to the kitchens of the restaurant. There are four restaurants now, all serving a menu of sustainable and ethically sourced seafood. At this particular restaurant, the fish market is overlooked by the terrace which unfortunately in November was out of the question; you could imagine on a summer's day that those are the hot tables, especially with a glass of blush rosé. Inside is bedecked in white wood and beams emblazoned with uplifting maritime slogans, and the tables are laid with paper placemats listing different kinds of fish. Our waitress circled and priced the fish from the list that were available that day, all either battered, grilled or both. 

We all zero'd in on the fine print on the menu. All meals are served with unlimited chips. UNLIMITED CHIPS! Now that's a gauntlet thrown if ever I saw one. 

As we were 6, we were able to order a variety of starters. Sprats were the biggest I've ever seen; I deconstructed the first as I wasn't sure of the stabbiness of the bones; I needn't have worried, as they were soft enough to munch through, undetected.  

Salt and pepper prawns were big fat ones, battered and fried until crisp. I was actually hoping for prawns with heads still on, stir-fried with seasonings so that you could really get stuck in there with your hands, beheading the prawns and the like, but it wasn't to be. I'd clearly not read the menu descriptions properly. 

Is there much more pleasing than shellfish cooked in garlic butter? I'd say no. These were cooked with "loads of garlic", but somehow managed to retain their own flavour. I found the bread a bit pointless, but others made light work of it. 

The sharing platter of starters came with dressed crab, more crab meat, cockles, whole head-on prawns to get messy with, and 3 oysters. Cockles I avoided - has anyone ever had one that wasn't remotely gritty? Why do we bother with them? - and headed straight for the prawns, ripping shells off, dunking them in aioli - my favourite way to eat them. I am but simple. 

Heroically one of our party ploughed onto mains with a deep-fried mixture of seafood; no mean feat, given the previous deep-fried selection. I opted for the Dover sole (£20) healthily grilled, to enable me to fit more chips in. 

The fish was cooked simply and perfectly, lightly grilled on each side so that the meat slid from the bones with ease. The South Devon crab roll, though I didn't try any, was very well received, as were the mussels. I had eyes only for my fish, and the pickles selection.

Chips were fat and crunchy, fluffy inside and the pickles and sauces were absolutely exemplary. 'Chip-shop curry sauce' - a a guilty little pleasure of mine - was indeed like the chip shop versions; gloopy, slightly clumpy and wonderfully mild. I used to turn my nose up at the mere mention of curry sauce but I was wrong, very very wrong indeed. Mushy peas were proper - none of that crushed pea bullshit - and the pickles! Delhi pickled cucumbers, sweet and sour pickles, and pickled fennel. We were in pickle heaven, let me tell you. I often find a wally overwhelming (snigger) but these were just perfect - all sliced and ready to refresh each mouthful of fried fish. 

Service was pleasant and friendly - turns out the most amount of unlimited chips consumed isn't as much as you might think - and they were there when we needed them, and absent when not. We only wished we didn't have to dash off for our train. 

Rockfish, Brixham
Brixham Fish Market, 
Brixham, TQ5 8AJ

01803 850872

We dined as guests - all views are very much my own. 

CheeMc, Walworth Road

It's taken me a while to write this up, and I am placing the blame solely on the above. Soju. Freely available at Chee Mc, a divey little Korean place on Walworth Road, walkable from my house - at least I think so, as neither of us remember the journey home - and with an extensive fried chicken menu. I was tipped off by the ever excellent Su-Lin and me and my friend bumbled off there one Saturday night to try it out. 

They are really not messing about with the fried chicken. They sell them as half portions or whole in various different sauces, but you can also order a mixture of two types, which obviously we did. It is my motto in life that one shouldn't have to make a choice if they can just have it all. This one was covered in finely shredded spring onions, so dense and bushy we struggled to separate the strands. In any case, the chicken was freshly fried with a crisp crunchy coating. Tables around us filled up, mostly Koreans, though there was one lady on her own next to us, sniffling and sucking air through her teeth as she negotiated a portion of the chilli chicken. 

We ordered beers and soju, and were talked up to the stronger 19% version by our very sweet waitress who went to great lengths to explain everything to us. That's where things became a little... blurry. I had wondered what these ice-bucket-esque tongs were for, and looking around, people were picking the chicken up with them and eating directly from them. It was a lively atmosphere; lots of people drinking beers with big groups of friends. I liked the place a lot. 

For a little vegetable balance, we ordered some kimchi which was unremarkable but refreshing, spicy and crunchy to cut through the fried-ness of the chicken. At around £4 or £5 a portion it wasn't a great deal, but we also got lightly pickled radish included with our chicken so we were satisfied that we were not going to become vitamin-deficient. 

Our mix n' match was the 'sweet garlic sauce'. FFF me. It was honky. It was so honky, in fact, I feared it would linger until Monday. The garlic was indeed sweet, but wow, that garlic. Let's not forget the amount of spring onion I ingested too. Another bottle of soju to wash it down. The first text message I sent the next day said "I SMELL TERRIBLE". 

Woman cannot live on chicken alone though, so we ordered the cheesy ramen which was exactly that. Instant ramen in a spicy broth (Shin raymun perhaps?) topped with stir-fried onions and spring onions for added breath-effect, and then topped with a melted piece of slappy cheese. Friends, it was glorious. The cheese mixed in with the broth to give it some creaminess and to temper the spice. We hoovered this up. I have a recipe for something similar, called Buddae Jjigae in Chinatown Kitchen and it was developed as a hangover of the Korean War. The Koreans used frankfurters, spam and processed cheese in their cooking, left behind by the American G.Is, which is where this sort of fusion comes from. 

We boxed up the leftover chicken and paid around £30 per head with service. A not-insubstantial amount given it was a tiny little café near the Elephant and Castle, but I don't think we went light on the booze since I was so unwell the next day I cried. Yup. Garlicky little hungover sobs. I'd go back though, especially since everyone else we saw had ordered the glistening, sticky red of gochujang on their chicken, studded with sesame seeds. And for that slappy cheese ramen. Hold that soju though.

CheeMc

310 Walworth Road
London SE17 2NA

Bell's Diner & Bar Rooms

A wonderful resource to our visit to Bath and Bristol was Dan's blog, (not so) Essex Eating, and Fiona Beckett's list of favourite restaurants. Of the plethora of places to choose from, Bell's Diner and Bar Rooms appealed to us the most. Having not really been to Bristol much I was a bit dubious when we drove down a grubby little back street it was located on, but all the trepidation was erased when we stepped inside. The bar area was small and a little crowded, so we were taken straight to our table, nestled within one of several rooms, which happened to be next to the record player. We were invited to pick the records as each finished, which was a nice touch, though I'm glad that responsibility didn't fall to me (where's the Rhianna record? Hmm?). 

The menu consists of small plates, with specials on the board. With a slight leaning towards Moorish influences with a hint of classic Spain, we started off with sweet, tangy pickles and salt cod croquettes with aioli, before we tackled the impossible task of trying to choose from a list of things we wanted all of. Tripe and chorizo stew, at a mere £3.50 came in a small terracotta dish, velvety strips of tripe in a spiced tomato sauce, a few chickpeas bobbing around for good measure. So far, so good. 

Baby Gem salad (pictured half eaten) was the best kind of salad; that is, dressed with anchovies and covered with cheese. Creamy, salty and dotted with breadcrumbs, it was an intense Caesar. Its recreation at home is imminent. 

Mussels and clams in a cream broth with wild garlic and pancetta, perched atop a slice of smoky grilled sourdough suffered from a little grittiness in the shellfish but was otherwise reminiscent of moules mariniere. 

Ox heart with beetroot and horseradish lacked a little of the punch of the nose-clearing heat it is so well known for, but the ox heart was tender and flavoursome, the beets earthy and firm. The dressing was tart and counteracted the sweetness of the beetroot, which I sometimes find overly cloying, but not so here. For £6.50 it was a decent value portion size.

Chicken oyster skewers came bathed in the same spiced clarified butter that the charcoal salt and pepper grilled prawns were doused in. The latter were gloriously messy - we covered ourselves in prawn juice as we ripped their heads off and shelled them with our hands, slurping the sauce as we went along. The chicken oysters were a more demure affair, the harissa yoghurt cooling the fire of the smoky chipotle flavouring. Generously replenished bread was essential for mopping up the plates.

Too stuffed for dessert, we asked for the bill and called it a day. The service was slick and friendly, attentive but never overbearing. I loved the small print on the menus (especially as an occasional just-can't-kick-that-one-cigarette smoker) - now that's service. At around £45 a head each with booze and service, it's not your every day caff, but we did eat amply and the food, bar a couple of glitches, was excellent. 

Bell's Diner and Bar Rooms

1 - 3 York Road
Montpelier 
Bristol BS6 5QB

0117 924 0357

The Ethicurean, near Bristol

I'll admit, I raised an eyebrow at the wankily worded website and I'm glad I swept my cynicism aside, because The Ethicurean is a lovely place. We lucked out with a sunny Sunday lunch booking and took full advantage of the walled gardens the restaurant is set in, where they grow vegetables and herbs for the kitchen. We sat outside, basking in April sunshine, occasionally batting a wasp or two away, while the rest of the picnic benches slowly filled up.

The menu is, to my mind, modern British with a twist. Most dishes seem to have some sort of pickled element, and although I was drawn to 'Variations of garlic soup: cultivated, wild & fermented', the idea of goat bacon was too tempting to pass up. Especially 'goat bacon, burnt chicory, pickled root, apple balsamic, coriander crackling, jerk oil & parsley ferment'. This was not a pithy menu, but rather ingredient-heavy, a listing of parts.

My dish arrived on an enormous plate, a pretty pile of vegetables centre stage. Goat bacon tasted of lamb, slightly salty and tender. Bitter slivers of chicory blushed pink on the plate, tempered by a sweet onion jam. Sharp bursts of a pickled root (I'm not sure what) completed the sweet, bitter and savoury balances, though I couldn't taste much jerk in the oil. I'm not sure I missed it much.

Ham hock broth with a poached egg was perfectly clear and poured table-side. Any notion that perhaps soup wasn't fitting for the weather was put to one side; with the rainbow chard, lovage 'crackling' and parsley, it was Spring in a bowl.

Then, we waited. We waited and waited and waited. Perhaps if we had a bottle of wine to while away the time over, and we didn't have anywhere to be, we might have been ok. But we sipped on our fizzy elderflowers and was tapped our feet impatiently, glancing furtively at the door to the garden. Almost 45 minutes later, our mains arrived.

My 'butter-poached pollack with nettle, fondant potato, purple sprouting broccoli, pickled samphire, squid ink & fondant potato' was another pretty dish. The poached fish was firm and pearlescent, the meat flaking away densely. I had expected it to be very rich due to its poaching liquor, but instead the dish was light and bright. The vibrant green nettle sauce and the black squid ink gave the (again enormous) plate some drama, while incredibly brittle fish skin shards, the best kind of fishy crisps, gave a little texture contrast. The potato was sweet and fudgy, crisp on the outside, and I wished for more. I loved this dish very much. A side dish of sauerkraut (have I mentioned I love pickles?) had the tang of lactic fermentation, a method of pickling that uses the natural bacteria in the vegetable to preserve, rather than the quick-fix of vinegar. 

Somerset goat came in the form of meatballs and a cylinder of slow-cooked meat. The spheres were shot through with herbs, fork-tender yet sturdy. Rainbow chard, pickled pear and artichoke crisps made up the vegetable components, while burnt onion and apple balsamic sauced the dish. We neglected any carby sides and this was the perfect size for lunch in the sunshine. 

So obviously we wanted dessert. The Montezuma brownie with salt and pepper ganache was as decadent as it sounds. A crisp, sugary crust gave way to an almost-liquid inside of obviously high-quality chocolate. The scoop of malted barley ice cream we ordered seperately suited it so perfectly I wondered why they weren't served together. Though I couldn't taste any pepper in the ganache, its saltiness was just the right foil against the sweetness of the brownie. I fail to remember what the orange blobs are. 

After having spent just under 2.5 hours having lunch, we were keen to get going so we paid the not insubstantial (£70 for 2, booze-less) bill inside, where we could get someone's attention. The waiting staff were nice enough when they were around, but the restaurant was full and they were hard to find. No real harm done, but had the service been on top form, it would have been a damn near perfect lunch.  

The Ethicurean
Barley Wood Walled Garden
Long Lane
Wrington
Bristol
BS40 5SA

01934 863713
info@theethicurean.com

Pick n' Mix: Part 6

Pick n' Mix fell by the wayside somewhat but we're back on a roll with a smearing of butter. London's seeing several new restaurants opening at the moment, and Foxlow was one I was most excited about. From the team behind Hawksmoor, it's styled as more of a neighbourhood restaurant (I wish my neighbourhood was Farringdon...) and has a more casual vibe. I was invited along to their preview and the menu reads like a mash-up between Hawksmoor and Pitt Cue, with a lot of smoked meats on offer, as well as their usual steaks.

Crispy five pepper squid (£7) had the ideal crunchy exterior and tender innards. Garnished with tiny rounds of sliced lime, it was poshed-up salt n' pepper squid, accompanied with a ginger-spiked mayonnaise. Just the phrase 'baby back Iberico ribs' (£8.50) danced at you from the menu, wiggling their seductive hips, whispering "eat me" until there's nothing you can do but order them. They didn't disappoint; a sweet glaze covered the plump ribs, which crucially kept some bite. For me, there's nothing worse than floppy rib meat, you know the type; the stuff you can slide bones out of without disturbing the plate. I have perfectly functioning teeth, thank you.

Ten hour smoked beef short rib with kimchi (£16) was a hulking beast - excuse the photo, the lighting was... atmospheric. Often beef rib can be hugely fatty, but this was pure slow cooked meat. Flavoursome and smoky, the tart fermented cabbage was mandatory every few bites to cut through the richness. We actually asked for a little more. Monkfish was cooked in the Big Green Egg, a ceramic smoker made famous by the likes of The Smokehouse. The result was that the fish took on a delicate flavour of charcoal, but with the tenderness of it cooked to just-there.

Sides are never a sideline with these guys, we opted out of the salad bar (there's a salad bar) and instead went for bacon-salt fries, tenderstem broccoli with chilli and anchovy and sausage-stuffed onion (all between £3.50 - £4.50). I'm sad to say the onion, stuffed with mace-heavy beefy sausage, defeated us but we demolished the rest like a flood of locusts. Salted caramel popcorn and caramel bourbon soft-serve pushed our already meat-high brains into the sugar crazed territory. In short, I loved Foxlow.

Foxlow
69 - 73 St John Street
Clerkenwell
London EC1M 4AN

Burger & Lobster have set up shop on the fifth floor of Harvey Nichols. I fully expect it to be completely rammed as surely the ladies who lunch would get stuck right in to lobster rolls. They give you a buzzer if there's a wait for a table, and this way you can get on with your shopping and swan over to your table when summoned. I used the opportunity at the press preview to try the burger; beefy, well constructed, cooked to medium as requested - all ticks from me. But I'd never choose a burger over a lobster, made even more evident by the lobster roll and grilled lobster we also shared. I felt a twinge of guilt when I glanced over at their forlorn faces in the lobster tank as I left. They also mix a mean martini.

Speaking of Harvey Nichols, the Pizza Pilgrims' van is also on the 5th floor for the winter. Two internal walls were taken down to get this beast in. I'll be completely transparent here - one of the Pilgrims' is my boyfriend so you can take this at face value... but I wouldn't go out with someone who makes bad pizza so, you know, it's ace.

I was invited to an evening of pickles at One Leicester Street which was hugely exciting, given what a pickle fiend I am. Chef Tom Harris talked us through all their homemade pickles - salt pickles, sweet pickles (quince is a revelation), and sauerkraut-esque fermentations.

They also make their own hams, and a Middlewhite belly and tongue ham with sour cabbage was a particular favourite (above). Pig's cheek ham with celeriac and mustard showed how the marriage between rich fat and sharp vegetable works so well, and a smoked gamey duck breast, pink and tender, showcased the sweetness of aforementioned pickled quince (below).

We finished off with a brown sugar and honey tart; so obscenely wobbly and delicately made, I near-destroyed my piece filming this masterpiece. I enjoyed One Leicester Street hugely; Tom's passion for ingredients and skills he invests in his chefs to make their own pickles and hams is inspiring. Having retained his Michelin star after St John Hotel (where he was awarded it) closed, he's clearly got a lot of talent.

One Leicester Street
London WC2H 7BL

In a fit of hypocrisy, I went along to Manchester on a friend's invite-to-review both of Simon Rogan's places. I can't defend it - he needed a companion and I'd never been to Manchester before. That's me in Manchester's Chinatown, that is. We arrived at The Midland Hotel at around 9pm, wowed by its grandeur (and the next day, by the pool and gym). In contrast to The French, Mr Cooper's House & Garden is Rogan's casual restaurant; I had wondered if we would be seeing said gardens, but turns out it refers to the decor. Part garden shed, part leather banquette, it was an enormous place. The menu is a mish-mash of ingredients from other cuisines - I spotted wasabi, tofu and chorizo all in the first minute.

Chicken wings with pomegranate molasses were deboned and served on a tangle of 'sepia' (squid ink, then?) noodles. With an attractive glaze, they were a little too tart for my palate, but juicy and full of chicken flavour. For my main, the monkfish, mussel, and potato romesco was probably the least adventurous, ingredient-wise. But it was light and pretty, not overly daunting for a meal that late in the evening. Creamed kale and spinach with bacon sounds like my vegetal dream, but was disappointly salty. Rhubarb and custard, studded with dramatic black sesame wafers was a palate-cleansing, refreshing end to the meal.

I liked Mr Cooper's House & Garden well enough, but it didn't blow my socks off like The French did. You can read about that here, if you so wish, and my pictures are here. I suspect the ox rib tartare (above) with coal oil may well be one of my most memorable dishes of 2013.

Mr Cooper's House & Garden 
The Midland Hotel, 
Peter Street,
Manchester M60 2DS

Lastly, the Plusixfive Cookbook is out and it is a beauty. Packed full of amusing anecdotes, great pictures and quirky drawings, it's also got a recipe in there from me for cocktail sausage buns, a Hong Kong classic. You can buy it here. Do. It's lovely.  

Irene's Peranakan Recipes

In the same part of the cookbook series as Uncle Lau's Teochew Recipes, Irene's Peranakan Recipes have the same simple style and layout. Peranakan refers to the descendants of the late 15th & 16th century Chinese immigrants who settled in Malaysia and Indonesia  Now, normally I'd object to quotes like: "Girls have to do girls' things", being the raging bra-burning feminist that I am, but the picture of Irene herself at the stove with big glasses and 70s hair, as well as her charmingly honest history was enough to tame me.  
  
It was one Sunday and a group of my friends, obsessed with South East Asian food, decided to get together for a British version of a potluck, also known as the Pie Out. It was the perfect opportunity to try out this new cookbook. It's not the easiest cookbook to navigate as the contents page lists the Peranakan name of the dishes, but it's a fascinating flick through. 

Fish curry was well spiced with a tangy hit. The gelatinous quality of the sauce was made by the addition of lots of sliced okra. 

With plenty of spicy, creamy curries (including the chicken rendang in the opening picture), a simple cleansing cucumber salad was ideal to cool mouths, even if it did have some chilli in it. 

One of the dishes I made was braised green beans with prawns in spicy coconut milk. Pretty straightforward to make, the shrimp paste used to stir-fry the spice mixture gave it a deep savoury flavour that only shrimp paste makes. 

My favourite accompaniment of the dishes though was pickled pineapple. Chunks of pineapple are cooked until soft with salt, sugar, chilli and cinnamon (or cassia bark in my case) and then served at room temperature. It was the perfect acidic foil for the richness of the meal.

Pickled Pineapple

Serves 6 with other dishes 

1 small pineapple; cored, skinned and chopped into bite sized chunks

2 large red chillis, deseeded and chopped

2 tsp sugar

1/2 tbsp salt

1 6inch stick of cinnamon, or cassia bark

2 cloves

In a pan, heat up the pineapple with everything else gently. No need to add any liquid. Cook gently for 20 minutes until tender. Place in a bowl to cool and serve with creamy, rich curries at room temperature or cold.

Contact Epigram for a copy of the book here. 

Making Kimchi

Kimchi is said to be Korea's national dish. A name that encompasses a wide range of chilli-soaked fermented vegetables, Koreans eat it with most, if not all meals and there is a popular Korean saying - 'a man can live without his wife, but not without kimchi'. They take this stuff seriously.

There are hundreds of different types, characterised by main ingredients but also of which season they were made and which region they come from. For someone with such a love of pickles, it was only natural that I would fall in love with kimchi. Its sour tang, hugely pungent aroma and spiciness was a great draw.

Not content with commercial offerings (though very good they are too), I set about making my own. My first attempt was half arsed (below) and it showed. I lobbed a load of chilli powder in with some cucumber and daikon that I needed to get rid of. This produced a harshly flavoured affair and the lot went in the bin and I forgot about it all for a few weeks.

I wasn't to be deterred though and once the kimchi craving hit me again, I set about getting the ingredients to make it properly. Glutinous rice flour is used to make a paste with Korean chilli flakes - and specifically Korean, as they use a type of chilli that is redder and milder than others, thereby colouring your kimchi well without making it so spicy it'll blow your face off.

Mixed with flavourings and seasonings, the vegetable of choice is smeared with this and packed into jars to ferment.

Left out on the side for a couple of days to get the fermentation going, I arrived home one evening and heard a strange hissing sound. After a few minutes of total bewilderment, I discovered it was coming from the jar. I opened the latch and the kimchi promptly exploded across the kitchen wall and covered me in cabbage juice. Fermentation produces gases and I packed my jar too full, causing all the kimchi to rise to the brim (below) and make a break for freedom. My housemate was aghast.


It was a right pain to clean up.

After a couple of days fermenting the kimchi went in the fridge. It tasted great just after two days but for a stronger, more soured flavour the longer you leave it the better it gets. I've taken to eating a lot of it straight from the jar, but I've also used it as a flavouring for roasting broccoli, and frying rice with it.

Cabbage Kimchi

Makes quite a lot

2 heads of Chinese leaf (Napa cabbage)
Loads of table salt

Chop your vegetable up into even sized pieces. Wash thoroughly and then coat liberally in salt, and place inside a colander. Turn every half hour or so, and leave for 3 hours. This is so that the salt leeches the moisture from the cabbage.

110gr coarse Korean chilli powder (Londoners, you can get this upstairs at New Loon Moon)
60gr glutinous rice flour (plain flour will also work)
250mls water
125ml fish sauce
1 large onion, minced
6 cloves of garlic, minced
2" piece of ginger, grated
2 eating apples, peeled and grated
A bunch of spring onions, top and tailed and chopped into three
Many people also add raw oysters or salted shrimp but I'm too much of a wuss. Next time, next time...

Whisk together the water and the glutinous rice flour and bring slowly to the boil, stirring all the time. Cook for a few minutes and take off the heat. Allow to cool.

Stir in the chilli flakes, then add the garlic, onion, ginger and apples. Add the fish sauce and mix well.

Wash the cabbage thoroughly, at least a few times to make sure all the salt has washed off. In a large bowl toss in the spring onions and then add the chilli sludge. Combine well using your hands - if you have any cuts on your hands wear gloves otherwise it'll sting like a bastard.

Pack into a sterilised jar, leaving plenty of room from the top to allow for fermentation gases. Leave out on the side for a day or two (open the lid to this every so often to let the gas escape) and transfer to the fridge. It's good to eat as it is for at least 3 weeks - after that it may become quite strong but still good to use in stews, stir fries and other hot dishes.