BONNIE-ON-SKY SEAFOOD SHACK

After the success of Bonnie and Wild, the part-time restaurant that shared Manze's (Islington) last year, Bonnie Gull are now striking out on their own.  So here we are at the Seaside Shack: there are sailors' hats and sea shanties, deck chairs, fishing nets and buoys; an authentic surf-like spray drifts across our cheeks.

A couple of days into its brief residency (5th - 21st July) on top of Magdalen House on Tooley Street, Bonnie-on-Sky hasn't been blessed with seaside weather: more umbrellas tonight than sun shades.  A sheltering roof has been tacked over the "open-air" pavilion, and the spray drifting in through the porous walls comes from rain rather than pounding surf. From where we sit, The Shard looks like an up-ended liner about to plunge Titanic-like into the depths, wreathed by swirling showers and mist. It is a grey, grey evening!

A round of cocktails settles everyone, however, and the enthusiastic, youthful team of helpers buzzes about dispensing cheery smiles. Rumours of a possible British winner in the Wimbledon Men's Doubles Final emerge, set by set, from twenty or thirty glowing i-phones, and contribute an unexpectedly patriotic bonhomie. Then the hen party arrives, dressed for the occasion in naval costume and sailor hats, already well beyond the yo ho ho and a bottle of rum stage.

Bonnie-on-Sky is all about the fish: Bonnie Gull's sustainable, high quality, British fish. The starters are very good: plump mussels in a creamy cider-based sauce or smoked trout with beetroot and a horseradish cream on bubble and squeak.  There is a choice of mains, but everyone goes for the crab.  Bashing, cracking and prising open, slurping, chewing, this is hands-on eating at its most physical.  Neighbours become friends as bits of shell and crab-juice fly back and forth between tables.

Excellent though the food is, Bonnie-on-Sky is rough and ready in parts.  The service is immensely enthusiastic but not very accurate and mistakes abound; the wine-list mark up is a bit steep; cottony supermarket baguettes detract from rather than complement the dishes.  
But it's fun, a bit different, and on a warm, summer's evening, this would be a great place to be, beside the sea, watching the sun go down, chewing on a crab claw.

BALZANO'S ... AND THE PLATE LICKERS

Balzano's has been transformed.  It's still a great Italian deli, just the place for a few slices of prosciutto for lunch or a panettone for Christmas. The main counter is crammed with salumi, cheeses and various sweet confections; elsewhere, you can pick up some own-brand honey or jam, or wander past yards (metres?) of variously shaped and coloured pasta; shelves overflow with amaretti biscuits, wine and other Italian specialities.  What more could anyone want?

Well, these days, the answer to that is clear the second you walk in. The back of the deli has been knocked through to extend into a light and airy cafe; there is a courtyard to one side as well for the sunnier days of summer. Food shopping has suddenly got a lot more relaxing.

Dropping by for some lasagne sheets, we are drawn in by this bright, new space with its elegant wallpaper and attractive globe light fittings.  Seduced by the ambiance and the smells of good things cooking, we settle at one of the scrubbed pine tables and share an artfully constructed yellow and red pepper tart.  The coffee is good too.  

 

And now Balzano's been transformed again, if only temporarily: it proves to be the perfect setting for the recent inaugural meeting of the Plate Lickers Supper Club, Jo (Afternoon Tease) and Ivana (Missigs)'s Polish and Bosnian five-courser.  Interestingly unusual food (such as Chestnut with Speck Soup and Polish Pierogi) is served up in a great space, and the supper club is graced by Becky and Rocco Balzano themselves. Exciting times on Cherry Hinton Road.



The Plate Lickers Supper Club, 19th May 2012.

 Balzano's is at 204, Cherry Hinton Road, Cambridge. You can often park the Alfa Romeo giulietta just outside.

BROAD BEANS AND MORCILLA

Maybe it's the rain in Spain that makes their renowned habas or broad beans grow so well.  So perhaps the wet weather we have been enjoying this summer has brought on our bumper crop in the allotment, a flood of plump, green beans in fleece-lined pods.

Over the years, we have worked our way through a considerable amount of habas con morcilla, often for breakfast in La Boqueria, the fantastic food market in the centre of Barcelona. Soft, bittersweet beans and salty, spicy morcilla: they complement each other perfectly.

La Boqueria, Barcelona

This version isn't especially original, nor is it tricky to make. But when a classic dish is this good, simple cooking with fresh ingredients is all it takes.

We already have plenty of beans, so when some real Spanish morcilla comes along, the decision is simple.  Morcilla is to blood pudding what chorizo is to the standard, pale-pink, bland, value-pack English sausage; it is rich in garlic, paprika and various other spices, with pearls of fat that melt into the sauce creating a velvety texture and strong, intense flavours.

First pick your beans; make sure they are as fresh as possible, for they coarsen very quickly once off the stem.  Ideally, each individual bean will be no larger than the size of a thumbnail. 

1kg         freshly picked broad beans (= approx 500g podded beans)
150g       morcilla
1tbs        olive oil
2 cloves  garlic chopped finely
2 tsps     fennel seeds lightly bruised to release flavour
1 tsp       dried chilli flakes
 3tbs       stock (or water)
zest of half a lemon
juice of half a lemon
chopped mint and parsley to garnish

Chop the morcilla into thickish slices and fry gently, turning once, until cooked through (10 mins).  While this is cooking, pod the beans, separating the larger beans from the smaller ones. It is better to use only the smaller beans, as all the flavour is then kept in the pan; larger beans have such coarse skins that it detracts from the final dish, so pre-cooking is advisable.
Boil the larger beans in salted water until cooked (5 mins) and then drain, keeping a small amount of the water to add to the stock if needed. Run them under water until cool.  Slip them out of their skins.
Put the cooked morcilla to one side and pour off most of the fat, trying to keep any paprika-rich goo at the bottom of the pan. 
Put the chopped garlic and fennel seeds into the pan and allow to cook for a minute or two over a low heat (take care not to burn the garlic, as this creates a bitter flavour). Then add the small beans and stock / water.  Let this simmer for about 5 mins, or until the beans are cooked but not too soft. If it dries out too much add some of the reserved bean water.
Add the cooked, skinned beans, chilli flakes, lemon zest and juice; stir until hot.  Add the morcilla and allow this to warm for a few minutes. Some people like to stir the morcilla vigorously, so it breaks up; other prefer to keep the slices whole, if so stir only gently.

Serve with chopped parsley and mint and with a slice of sourdough bread or toast.  
A glass of fino or San Miguel goes well with this. Or do what the Spaniards do for breakfast and chase it down with a shot of Soberano brandy.

L'ENTREPoT, HACKNEY DOWNS

Entrepot: French, from Middle French entrepost, from entreposer to put between, from entre- inter- + poser to pose...

Hackney Downs is the favoured location for directors seeking urban grit: gangs, drug deals, stabbings, gun crime (the recent TV series Top Boy was shot here). It's not hard to see why as you emerge from the station, walk under the railway bridge along the pavement bespattered with pigeon droppings, pass a lamppost garlanded with sellotaped bouquets - a family commemorating the shooting of their teenager a year ago. Turn left and opposite 'Jerk Corner' (don't go there if you value your arteries) RIP is scrawled along the wall - oh yes,  this remembers the 14 year old who bled to death at 2am in the morning, stabbed by gang members. 

So it's a brave enterprise that opens here; this may be East London but it is a far cry from the hipster haunts of Shoreditch and Hoxton. L'entrepot is that brave enterprise, an outlet for Borough Wines, which has fashioned a wine bar from a very unpromising space next to Tesco Metro, an old engineers' shed for the nearby railway.

There are, however, hipster habitats even here, from whence they  emerge, blinking in the sunlight donning the Raybans. Here they can sit back and enjoy the interesting wines, sample broad bean and mint bruschetta or the cheese plate and forget about the horrors that have passed a few hundred yards from here...

L'entrepot is at 230 Dalston Lane, next to Hackney Downs Railway station and Tesco Metro.

RHUBARB AND ROSEMARY GRANITA WITH SICHUAN AND PINK PEPPERCORNS

With its delicate pink colour and fragile ice-shards, this granita's appearance belies its powerful and unusually contrasting flavours.  The combination of rhubarb, rosemary and pepper delivers so much more than its more conventional cousin, the strawberry and black pepper sorbet. It is light, feminine and a wee bit romantic, perfect for spring, when tender shoots of rosemary are waxy with their aromatic oils and new season rhubarb is yet to coarsen. The "numbing" effect of Sichuan pepper adds another dimension to the mouthfeel of the granita as well as contributing to its complex range of flavours.

Finding the right balance (sweet, sour, spicy, herby) is very much a matter of personal taste, so make small batches initially; for some, a good pepper hit is the key (you can add some finely ground black peppercorns for even more confrontational spicy notes), while others prefer a sweeter or a more fragrant version.  Remember, though, that freezing dulls all flavours, so don't underplay any of the ingredients. 


This recipe makes enough for two; you can bulk up the quantities later after fine-tuning the balance of ingredients to suit your palate.

2 sticks rhubarb (approx 500g), removing the tougher, greener ends
4 sprigs of fresh rosemary
sugar (approx 200g)
juice of half a lemon
2 tsp finely crushed pink peppercorns
1 tsp finely crushed sichuan peppercorns
(1 tsp finely crushed black peppercorns - optional).


Chop the rhubarb into smallish chunks and place them in a saucepan with the rosemary, sugar and lemon juice.  Heat slowly until the rhubarb juices run (don't add water, it's all about intensifying the flavours not diluting them), then increase the heat and simmer until everything is soft. 
Remove the rosemary sprigs and blitz the pulp in a blender. Sieve to remove any remaining rhubarb strings or bits of rosemary.  Add the peppercorns, stir well and leave to cool.  
Then freeze. 
After three hours, fluff up the reddish ice with a fork until it turns pink.  Squash any solid lumps until the texture is light: darker colours are a sign of under-forked ice (subsequent stirrings will increase the lightness of texture). Return the granita to the freezer until you wish to eat.  
As it softens quickly, serve at the last minute straight from the freezer.

Pink Peppercorns

FOOD WALK - FROM HAWKSMOOR TO JOSE PIZARRO



The Shard (Bermondsey) glimpsed from Leonard Street (Shoreditch)

When you're tired of London you are .... well just tired. Jeez, there's so much going on:  new exhibitions, pop up restaurants, secret cocktail bars, concerts. You plan a maelstrom of activity, then think, "what the hell I'll just put my feet up and watch episodes of Mad Men back to back." But housesitting for a few months in East London means sucking the juice out of the time here, and one of the best ways to do this is just walk.


This easy stroll between two of London's food and fashion hotspots, Hoxton and Shoreditch to South London's Bermondsey Street takes about an hour, though the distractions at each end of the walk will add hours and ... uh quite a few calories... to the day. 


Old Street tube station is a good starting point. Beware: it would be easy to spend the whole day browsing and eating one's way through Shoreditch alone, leaving the rest for another day.


Arrive early early, as Hoxton and Shoreditch are crammed with popular brunch opportunities: The Diner, The Breakfast Club, The Boundary (Albion) Cafe and The Book Club to name but a few.

The Diner 

The Breakfast Club



The Book Club

Or shimmy on down past the BoxPark, under the crossrail and into Spitalfields for the king of carnivorous breakfasts that is Hawksmoor. 


Brunch over, mosey around Spitalfields market or have your tresses tended at Taylor, Taylor where they serve cocktails in the stylish of interiors. Now head back to the City Road and turn south, heading on to Moorgate, Prince's Street, Lombard Street and King William Street: in effect it is a straight line to London Bridge. 


On the way, there are plenty of diversions.  Shortly after the City Road / Leonard Street junction is Bunhill Fields, an ancient Anglo-Saxon cemetery ("bun-" is probably a corruption of the Saxon word for "bone") now most famous as the last resting place of William Blake, John Bunyan and Daniel Defoe (his Journal of the Plague Year makes good reading for those who choose to relax in this well-tended, green space). On the opposite side of City Road are John Wesley's Chapel and house; this is still a working place of worship and there is also a museum attached. Further on, on Monument Street which runs left from King William Street, you can have a look at (and climb the 311 steps?) the London Monument, memorial to the Great Fire of 1666 (symbolised by the golden flame on top), or stroll along to the aptly named Pudding Lane where it all began, in Thomas Farriner's bakery.

London Bridge going south

Once across London Bridge, there is a choice: head right to Borough Market (on a Friday or Saturday) for some serious foodie shopping, or left (on St Thomas Street) past The Shard to Bermondsey Street. 


Bermondsey Street

 Once on Bermondsey Street, there is plenty of choice: tapas at  Jose (the best in London) or something more substantial at bigger but younger brother Pizarro; or try contemporary Italian at Zucca.  

Jose Pizarro's newer place

Zucca

Jose - great tapas, day or night

Head off Bermondsey Street on Tanner Street and you will come to the newly flourishing Maltby Street Market  (Saturdays 9:00-2:00 only at the moment, but longer hours are imminent, so check on-line) where Jose Pizarro, among many others, has a stall where you can sit, drink sherry, nibble jamon, watch the passers-by.
Bermondsey Street's recently opened White Cube Gallery, which you will pass as you move from Jose to Pizzaro, is now a major attraction staging cutting edge exhibitions.

Entry to the White Cube

Anselm Keifer at the White Cube

The return journey from London Bridge to Old Street is quick (on foot or by tube), but why not walk along the river to Tower Bridge and then meander back through the City.



LIME WOOD HOTEL SMOKEHOUSE

Sweet cure brisket and smoked Loch Duart salmon

The New Forest is a posh kind of place.There are lots of well-heeled, well-bred sorts looking for an Egyptian-cotton clad pillow to lay their heads after spending a day strolling through verdant glades. Lime Wood Hotel fulfils all Egyptian cotton aspirations (600 thread and counting) with bells and whistles. Alas, we are not staying here, but we do have lunch in The Scullery. I love the 'Downton Abbey' schtick this implies, but Carson has long since left the building. 

The Scullery

The grounds, conservatory and bar are all fantastic places to while away a few hours, along with a number of discreet drawing rooms.  The hotel also has a health spa, a serious restaurant and a helipad.

The Conservatory

After a chance conversation with one of the staff about the smoked salmon and brisket cured on the premises, we find ourselves being shown the smokehouse by head chef, Luke Holder.

The Smokehouse

This is a kind of rustic, 'Little House in the Prairie' hut where Luke has been experimenting for the last couple of years with legs of pork, making Pata Negra style ham (he imported one from Spain to "infect" his native pork with the right kind of mould). These take around 14 months to cure, and hang from poles either side of the smoker, surrounded by racks of red-wine steeped bresaola, brisket, chorizo and salami.   

Brisket, copa, cured pork fillet

The smoke chamber, empty just now, is ready to hold salmon  sourced directly from Loch Duart. The result is a far cry from the slippery, wafer-thin slices that stick to the palate - his is cut thickly and robustly flavoured. 

Luke is pretty honest about the pitfalls of curing. A rogue fly can spoil months of work, a fire in the smokehouse destroy many sides of salmon and half the building. However, he is a man with a mission, reflecting that The British Empire was founded on sending fleets of men with enough dried and cured provisions to quell the natives and erect the Union Jack on foreign lands (I did say this place was like Downton Abbey). We have lost those old  skills, unlike the Italians and Spanish who have built multi-million pound businesses from Parma Ham, Serrano, Pata Negra and salami. In the same way as British beer, bread and cheese have been transformed, Luke envisions a brave new world in which a British artisan charcuterie tradition can take its place on an equal footing with the giants of Europe.  

Hampshire Chorizo and Bresaola

To this end, in addition to his own efforts at Lime Wood, he is working to persuade the local meat suppliers to pool their offcuts in a co-operative to make Hampshire sausages (beef, pork, lamb) in much the same way as the French and Germans do with their grapes. 


Leaving the smokehouse with some troubleshooting tips for home bacon curing we repair to the drawing room and ring for tea... Carson is a long time coming.   

Lime Wood Hotel, New Forest