Food/house hunting

The prospect of moving house is always exciting for me. It brings new foodie horizons, new grocery stores, cafes, brunch spots, hidden gems. It's almost exactly two years since we started looking to move to Newington Green, all excited about moving a bit east. We love it here, but we're keen to buy and can't afford the crazy prices around here, so we're looking further east into Hackney. My dream is Lower Clapton, around Chatsworth Road ,and we've been spending more and more time over there, trying out local cafes and shops, cycling the streets and picturing myself living there full time.

Chatsworth Road is an interesting street, higgledy-piggledy Victorian buildings, a mixture of African, Caribbean, Turkish, working class and artsy cafes, shops and take-aways, part run down, part polished up,  views of Canary Wharf at one end and slopes down to the luscious Hackney Marshes at the other. In the Victorian times right through to the mid 90s it held a regular street market, which has been reinvigorated in the last year. I've been a number of times over the past few months, and it promises many delicious eating options - dickensian classics! Japanese street food! Cakes! Artisan cheese and bread!

But the first up I tried out the Moroccan stall outside Epicerie 56, a lovely well-stocked and fairly priced deli. Meat and pastries were sizzling away, and it was a beautiful winter day.



I ordered a chicken bastilla - a thin filo patty, with the most perfumed, aromatic filling you can imagine. Brown chicken meat was mixed with almonds, cinammon, orange blossom and other spices. Just the most exotic and otherworldly taste, but so warm and comforting on a cold day.



We sat on little stools on the street corner and watched families stopping to chat, hipster strumming guitars, kids playing down the side rode. I could definitely live here.

Finger lickin' happiness

I always find it strange when people who know me quite well assume I'm a vegetarian. I mean, I do live close to Stoke Newington, and I am very nice. But have you never heard me rave about meat? I was eating ribs for the second time this week, this time at my desk in the office, and a colleague suggested I might not be keen on them. Obviously they didn't hear me gushing about my trip to Pitt Cue Co on Monday. It was so good that I am going to rave about it here again, and there it is, immortalised on the interwebs.

Pitt Cue Co is the latest in a series of street food type outlets that have been so successful on the streets that they have made it onto permanent premises. MeatLiquor, of course, recently opened in the West End after building up a dedicated following in SE London and elsewhere. Lucky Chip, my personal favourite burger joint, is straddling the gap with a residency in the newly rejuvenated Sebright Arms. And now Pitt Cue Co has opened a dinky little place in a Soho backwater. As with all the best hyped places, demand massively outstrips supply and so getting there early and queueing is absolutely necessary.

We arrived at 6.30 on a Monday and waited about 45 minutes for a table (we could have had a stool after 25). But happily, we were in the cosy bar at ground level and cocktails and craft beers were on the menu. I opted for a delicious New York Sours, expertly mixed. Downstairs there can't be more than 20 seats, all intimately arranged, but enough room to get those elbows out and pick up some sticky ribs.

The menu is simple - there are St Louis ribs, beef ribs, pulled pork and a couple of daily specials. You can have them on a plate with pickles, chipotle slaw, and a side. Or you can have your meat in a roll. And there are other sides, such as spicy chicken wings, or duck hearts with pomegranate. I opted for the St Louis ribs with a side of mash with burnt ends - my dining parnter had a pulled pork roll, and we shared a side of the spicy chicken wings with pickled celery.

My main was just delicious - the ribs were lightly smoky from their long, slow, pitt-smoked cook, and came in a sticky, smoky sauce. The meat was unbelievably tender, and just a little pungent, as ribs should be. The chipotle in the slaw was subtle, but the mash was king of the sides, so so buttery and the burnt ends (the fatty, crispy ends of a smoked brisket) were so so sweet, salty and sticky. Just wonderful.





The wings too were nice - also slightly smoky (hey, they're not cooked on a smoke pit for nothing!) and in a warm, tomato sauce. The pickled celery went well with it.



So you might be thinking we'd be full by this point? I mean, we really ought to be. But you don't wait 45 minutes for a table just for one course. There were two desserts on that day - a snickers mess, and bourbon soaked sticky toffee pudding, with salted caramel sauce and amaretto ice cream. Of course we went for one of each.

The snickers mess was just the ultimate in excess. At the bottom a gooey chocolatey peanut meringue, then with lots of chocolate sauce, cream, caramel sauce, peanut brittle, ice cream. The combined effect was utter artery clogging pleasure. The sticky toffee pudding, more conventional, was equally delicious. The bourbon soaking gave the sponge a nice aromatic richness, perfectly complemented by the salted caramel sauce and the dreamy amaretto ice cream. I'd tell my vegetarian friends to queue up just for desserts. That good.



So Pitt Cue is truly the best meal I've had in 2012 so far. Oh, and did I mention it was about £26 per person all in, with all that food and a cocktail each? I'll be going back for sure. And I recommend you get there early with an empty stomach to make the most of it.

A little slice of Moro

In general trend terms, I reckon I'm about 8 – 12 months behind the zeitgeist chasers, and probably an equal timescale ahead of the average joe. I didn't make it to #meateasy until its closing week, I still haven't been to Polpo or Hawksmoor. I loved the sound of Morito, but it had been glowingly reviewed in Metro, Time Out and the Guardian and the prospect of a 2 hour wait didn't quite appeal.

Now, Morito, as its diminutive name suggests is the little sibling of Moro - the Exmouth Market classic that has been bringing us the most delicious Spanish/North African/Middle Eastern inspired food for many years. I went there a few years ago and still salivate at the thought of that meal. But, unlike big sis, you can only walk-in in the evenings to Morito - no reservations or nuffin.

So I waited about a year and finally got to go to Morito a few weeks back with some chums from work. Chums who appreciate damn good food and sherry. Waiting a year has the benefits of not having to wait 2 hours for a table on the night - we waltzed in at 7 and took a neat table for four.

We kicked off with a glass of fino each - I had a crisp Manzanilla, reminiscing about my recent trip to Andalucia and tasting those salty sea breezes off it. Our first round consisted of jamon croquettes (so moist and flavoursome inside, perfectly crisp outside), a zingy chickpea salad, aubergine purée topped with dry aromatic lamb and pomegranate seeds (oh.my.god - this was amazing - one to recreate at home).

Next up we ordered a deep Portuguese red, accompanied by chickpea stew with chorizo and morcilla (tender and nicely pungent), cured cuttlefish roe (very delicate, fresh and tasting like a mouthful of sea), pimentos padron (nobody I know has ever been served a mega spicy one - is it urban legend?), and molten cheese with quince and walnuts (perfect combination - earthy walnuts, greasy and salty warm cheese and sweet and tangy quince - I could have eaten this forever).

The atmosphere was buzzy, clientelle were quite Clerkenwell (thick rimmed glasses ahoy, but hey, who am I to talk), and the service efficient but warm, with no sense of us being hurried despite it being quite a busy night later on. 

So the wait paid off, but I'm already kicking myself for how many times I could have visited if I'd tried and loved early on. Numerous publications inform me that Peruvian food is so 2012, and that March will see two Peruvian joints opening in London. This time I'll be reporting from the frontline - no more missing out!

The four days of Christmas gluttony

As a lover of food I look forward to the Christmas period for months, ancticipating all the delicious food I get to eat at all the separate celebrations with different family and friends. Speak to me around 29 December and it's a very different picture, when all I want is some raw spinach and some steamed rice. Just please don't show me another roast potato.


As I write this, I am sat on the train from Edinburgh to London and I am enjoying the experience of not eating. I have set myself the challenge of not eating for the entire journey. This is how people end up on the 'detox' in January – a binge/abstain pattern that a moderate like me just can't sign up to and claims for health benefits have been roundly discredited. Nevertheless, I shall draw the feasting season to a close with a round-up of my best festive meals.


Christmas day
Celebrated at my mum's, and documented well last year, this is, on paper, the most traditional of the dinners. But my mum is an intuitive and imaginative cook and Christmas dinner has become an increasingly ambitious affair. Last year we were proud to have 12 dishes on the table – this year, 14. And with a few new twists and innovations. Brussel sprouts this year were fried up with chorizo and chestnuts, last year's pear and parsnip croquettes recipe was refined – drier cooking helped preserve their structure, as did mixing in pureed walnut and garlic, a little bit of ginger was mixed into the carrot and orange, which was a bit more salad-y.


This year we started with quite un-Christmassy dishes – sauteed frogs legs, just butter, garlic and a bit of parsley. And then some 'sunshine soup' – all peppers, butternut squash, paprika, tomato.



Our bronze feathered organic free range turkey was delicious and juicy, and our small plates approach looks particularly awesome on my brother's OCD plate.







The twists continued into pudding – not one for convention, my mum made her own spin on a trifle, with a base of amaretto soaked apricots, topped with amaretto soaked amaretti biscuits (v sweet!), custard and grated chocolate. The classic chestnut whip (sweetened chestnut puree, whipped up with cream) was also served.





Boxing day
To my dad's, where his partner was doing most of the cooking. She prepared a starter of Stornoway black pudding, which was so soft, smooth and nicely spiced. Stornoway has a reputation for the best black pudding – I can confirm that it lives up to the hype.





The main course was beef wellington – a classic, and more and more popular. As a pastry, pate and beef lover, I couldn't hope for more. Marilyn cooked it nicely, the meat was perfectly pink in the middle, and the combination of flavours and textures was great.



In the evening my dad took us out for Thai food at a restaurant near his work. It was a little quiet a first and we got a royal treatment. The food was excellent and great value – I particularly enjoyed my duck in a spicy, tangy tamarind sauce.


The 27th
It's tradition among friends is to celebrate Christmas together on 27th December. This has always taken place at Afsi's family home, where they've always had a huge amount of leftovers (usually from three separate roasts) needing gobbled up by helpful and hungry young'uns. Major changes this year as Afsi now has her own flat. Taking a star-turn as hostess, Afsi had friends and family all round for a slap up meal, sitting around in her immacutely retro furnished flat, weighing up our homemade crackers, supping on G&Ts.


After a starter or chilli fried haloumi and tofu, we enjoyed a turkey wellington and a massive roast ham. Both were delicious, but special commendation goes to the turkey wellington, which was perfectly presented and no end of effort had gone into making it as delicious as it was. The pate was a home-made with porcini mushrooms and marsala wine, and the cranberry stuffing sinside the turkey was also home-made and delicious.





To top it all off, Afsi had made three puddings – a fruit bomb (very retro, one of my granny's classics), a chocolate torte and a Christmas cake. Impressive stuff.





The 28th
And on the fourth day of continuous eating we headed down to the Borders to my grandparents' house for a wider family meal. As a child, Christmas was always at their house – the only house big enough to host four generations of family, different in-laws, partners, and other family and friends. At its largest, there must have been upwards of 20 people in and out their doors on the day, with two meals to accommodate everyone. As some get older (I still have a living great grandmother!), other units break up, others expand and new families form, they've found themselves visiting other dinners and doing less of the hosting.


I love the trusty familiarity of my grandparents' cooking – it's simple and accomplished, with recipes and techniques fine-tuned over the years, and a few new influences and ingredients making their way into the mix. This year they cooked an Aberdeen Angus beef, with all the trimmings. It was a nice beef, well-cooked, simply seasoned and served with yorkshire puddings, potatoes, parsnip and carrots.





Pudding is my granny's particular forte, I think, and her lemon meringue roulade was just spot on. Perfectly light, flawless rolled. Everyone agred it was the best pudding they'd had over the Christmas period. A testament to years of making and refining delicious puddings.




So that was Christmas 2011, then. Time to eat a bit more healthily now.

Going Greek

I'd love to chart every cuisine served within 2 miles of my flat. It'd be a fun exercise - and may help focus my efforts on local eating out. A project for a rainy winter's day perhaps?

What I find most interesting is thinking how the age and cuisine of restaurants can reflect waves and patterns of immigration, as well as different food fads. Blackstock Road, not too far away, and on my old route to work, is a scruffy, ungentrifiable strip, and host to many different communities at different points over the last fifty years. There's a little patch, half way between Finsbury Park and Highbury Barn, where there is a collection of rustic, but bright Sardinian trattorias, a pre-Wahaca-and-burrito-fetish-era Mexican restaurant, and a drab and austere-looking Greek taverna. I like that the patch is completely understated, without any of the hype and crowding of Upper Street or Church Street. It's a locals' spot.

With the nights long, the wind blowing cold and warm sun a distant memory, Greek food couldn't be more appealing. Greek restaurants are too often shrouded in the clichés of plate-smashing, belly dancing and ouzo shots; sometimes you just want to have some mezze and souvlaki without all that fuss. I'd never cycled past N5's Olive Tree and seen hen or stag parties, and a bit of googling found a few glowing reviews from proud locals.

Inside, there's a sense that it's been there since the 1970s (it's not - more like late 90s) - slightly austere green, plain walls, starched table cloths, a bit of cladding by the kitchen. It's a family affair, and at least three generations seem to be involved in front of house, kitchen and management. All very nice and keen to please you. We had superb banter with the waitress who I guess was about our age and told us that we reminded her of someone very clever from a TV show we hadn't heard of, and how excited she was to get off her shift and out some make-up on.

The menu offered a fair priced a la carte with a wide range of Greek meals and grills. But there's a set menu which seems to be available most of the time (including Friday and Saturday nights) which does 3 very decent courses for £10.90. It's mostly the classics - very well made dips and gorgeous pita breads, mains of moussaka, haloumi, baked aubergines and some more basic grilled meats, and a small selection of desserts (greek yoghurt and honey, honey cake with ice cream).

We opted for the set menu, doing a bit of topping up from the a la carte. And got a bottle of pretty nice white wine too. The dips and starters were really good - top houmous and reminded me of the differences between the Greek and more Middle Eastern versions.



I ended up opting for moussaka - an old favourite and something I'm rarely motivated to cook (too many stages, too many pots) and was very pleased, nothing to fault with it's creamy cheesy top, the olive oil soaked potatoes and aubergines or the aromatic lamb mince. Portions were very generous, and we over-ordered by getting a large Greek salad to go with the mains. A doggy bag for lunch the next day.





Overall, the Olive Tree was great for a hearty taste of Greece, decent, good-value portions and warm and homely service. Sure, it's not going to win any Michelin stars for innovative cooking, but what an excellent neighbourhood spot for a no-fuss, honest Greek meal.

Balls balls balls

In terms of the food blogosphere I'm usually pretty late to get 'on trend'; same applies in most walks of life really. Though in comparison to the rest of the population, including my super clued in workmates, I can still be ahead of the game when I need to be. The latest example is with trend foodstuff meatballs. Apparently they are the dish of 2011, obviously I didn't find out til October, but when I heard tale of Luca's Meatballs hitting Dalston, I was bounding around the office and taking orders for a Thursday cycle order up to Ridley Road.

Ridley Road market seems ungentrifiable. A fantastic thing, in a part of Hackney where new concept stores are popping up almost weekly. It's a full on, stinky, bustling hub of West African diaspora - all dried fish, chilli peppers, broiler hens and music. You can get the cheapest super fresh veg you can imagine - three butternut squash for a pound anyone? Anyway, that a much-hyped meatball shack was opening up had people talking: was this the start of the Broadway Marketisation of Ridley Road? Surely not!

I roll up at Luca's expecting to see a queue of hipsters, DSLRs at the ready. Actually nobody was there, just Luca getting things ready. I started reeling off my order and asked if I worked nearby. I explained that I'd cycled up from Old Street (only two miles) and was very excited. I was rewarded with a tiramisu on the house. Nice one! Luca was incredibly charming and excited about his business, and later tweeted a photo of me with my haul.

The menu is simple - there are (beef) meatballs and spinach and ricotta balls. You can have them on a ciabatta (with tomato sauce, provolone cheese, lambs lettuce) or atop tasty polenta with a range of sauces: roast tomato, spicy tomato, mushroom/cream, gorgonzola. The base price is £3.50, but for an extra 50p you can have an extra ball or a small portion of veg - when I went it was braised baby beetroot.



As we tucked in back at the office, it was thumbs up all around. I'd opted for the ciabatta and it was just wow. The meatballs were splendid, perfectly formed, simply and subtly spiced with just a hint of fennel. The tomato sauce, again, simple and pure, combined perfectly with the smoky provolone. I was just about in heaven. My colleagues had the polenta boxes: one, a veggie, had 4 of the spinach and ricotta balls, the other went half and half. Both were blown away with theirs, particularly appreciating how well done the polenta was. I had a sample of the veggie balls and was surprised at their pungency. Will definitely be going half/half next time.





Luca's offer is expanding - it's positioned outside the newly licensed Wu's Market Bar, which is all tropical and bright inside. Luca will be serving up meatballs late into the night as well as anti-pasti platters and more. I'll be back.

Brunchin' brunchin' #3

Brunch options just get more and more plentiful. I'm now well and truly spoiled for choice in my neck of the woods, as the joy of breakfast food spreads deeper and deeper. In recent weeks, still in my post Masters joy, it's been a steady stream of brunch dates.

So what's new?

Well, Barden's Cafe is fairly new. It's on the main drag in Dalston, formerly a grotty but charming basement venue, now forced overground by the clubbier club The Nest (always looks a bit dancey for an indie boy like me). A big old space, all high ceilings and sleek lines. But rolling up at an unfashionably early 10.30am we were able to get one of the best spots, a whole sofa area all for two. Sorry.

My brunch default is eggs benedict, because I'm rubbish at poaching eggs neatly and can't be arsed making hollandaise. But I was sorely tempted by the idea of french toast, bacon and maple syrup. Happily, Barden's had just the dish - french toast, bacon, poached eggs, maple syrup and cream. It sounded fishy - poached eggs with cream and maple syrup? Bacon and maple syrup and cream? HMM. I pondered for a good 10 minutes and then plumped for it. It arrived, a little pot of cream and a little pot of maple syrup sat separately. I didn't hold back in pouring it all over, and tucked in.



Wow. It actually really worked, just a great combination of flavours. Bits of saltiness here, sweet there. Oi oi. And only £6 too, so you can't complain.

From one side of Hackney to the other: my next brunch was at Bistroteque, from scruffy hipster to coiffured fashion set. Bistroteque is in a warehouse-y space in the badlands south of London Fields and north of Behtnal Green, just off Cambridge Heath Road amid strips of strip clubs. It's an ugly area, but achingly hip. In contrast with its bleak surroundings, Bistroteque is an amazing, stylish space, all white, high ceilings big windows and smart, trendy, efficient staff. A pianist does tinkly cabaret style piano covers of cheesy 80s and 90s pop - our finely tuned ears pick out Steps, Tiffany and S Club 7. Nice.





The brunch menu was fairly trim, but with some tasty sounding options: potato rosti with smoked trout and poached egg was tempting, but I ended up going for eggs benedict, just because I love 'em. But I was a bit disappointed with Bistroteque's offering - for one, one of my yolks was firm. That's not what you expect for £8. And the portions for the trout/rosti dish were very small. The ingredients were unmistakeably good, and the dishes nicely presented, but the disappointment of the yolk and portion size may have left us a little bitter.

From mega chi-chi to down at heel, our most recent brunch was at Acoustic Cafe 'round the corner on Newington Green. It always makes me happy when I walk past, seeing all the nice young couples of Newington Green sitting outside with their broadsheets and big plates of breakfast. It had a bit of an eastern Mediterranean vibe, a sign of its time in the first wave of brunchification, and a few twists on the brunch norms - turkish sausage, feta, olives, etc.



I ordered the Eggs Romano, which was scrambled eggs (my fave way of having eggs) mixed with feta, peppers, basil, onions, in a crisp pancake, served with CHIPS and salad. Petite and on trend it isn't, but it sure does the trick when you're a bit hungover and sleep deprived.