Showing posts with label Pork. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pork. Show all posts

Wednesday, 5 August 2015

Brew By Numbers / Howard's Meat Co.

Craft beer and BBQ, along with quality burgers and kimchi, are perhaps two of the four horsemen of the overdone foodpocalypse currently engulfing London.  Don’t get me wrong, there’s a reason these things are so successful – they’re bloody lovely and everyone wants a mouthful.  But they are everywhere and in some cases that begins to grate, at times.  So when an email chain alerts me to the fact that there is an afternoon craft beer and BBQ-ing going down in Southwark, the initial reaction, if we’re honest, is “Again?”.

Of course, that doesn’t stop me reaching for my wallet, clicking the link and booking my tickets.  Why?  Two reasons:  First, the pedigree here is pretty impressive – this is a partnership of Brew By Numbers (or “BBNo” as the branding has it), one of London’s more successful outlets of small batch, craft brewed beer, and Howard’s Meat Co., a British BBQ vendor with Austin, TX training smoking meat in London.  Second, as I said above, beer and BBQ are pretty bloody lovely and so there’s no way I’m gonna turn this sort of opportunity down.

There’s something almost painfully hipster about the setting.  BBNo’s brewhouse is squeezed into a Bermondsey railway arch, mere spitting distance from Maltby Street Market.  It’s the kind of place you expect to find a lot of beards, thick-rimmed glasses and ironic cartoon t-shirts, and it didn’t disappoint.  They had four beers on tap, each were distinctly delicious, from seasonal brews to their standard IPA. 




We kicked off with a witbeer, a classic white beer made with orange peel, coriander and chamomile flowers. 


On a hot sunny day, as Sunday was, it was perfect refreshment.  In fact, this was a truly brilliant beer.  Much like the Einstok I was raving about when we ate in an Underground train, this is a fantastic way of brewing, and makes a beer that even a non-beer drinker (such as GrubsterGirl) would enjoy. 

Pretty soon, we were being treated to some canapé things.  I say ‘canapé things’ because I don’t really know how else to put it.  I mean, sure, it’s sort of like a canapé in that it’s (a) small, virtually bitesized; (b) served before the meal; and (c) on a cocktail stick.  But surely this is no fancy canapé?  Canapés to me seem to belong at awkward networking events and dreary office parties. 



But who cares, eh?  Because these were brilliant.  I mean, seriously brilliant.  One of the best sausages I’ve ever had, it was rich, smokey and oh-so-juicy – all of the things I have come to expect not to have in the often over-grilled British Barbequed Banger.  Technically this was a weisswurst, a white sausage made from veal and back bacon – I assume it was the long, long hours of smoking that had tuned its final colour.  The pickles it was served with – pink onions and pickled green beans – were fantastic too.

By this stage we’re on to beer number two – the saison.


‘Saison’ is the French word for season, or seasonal (in this instance).  A Belgian style of beer, this one is made with lime zest and particularly fruity hops, and is a real zinger.  Should be good with rich greasy food.  Like BBQ.  Oh what a coincidence.

By now we’re seated in side, at long trestle tables.  There’s something of a seating plan but it’s pretty much easy come easy go, which is nice and relaxed.  Also, they’ve not made the mistake of overcrowding the tables, so it’s comfortable which is a blessed relief and a big change from the norm.  It kinda feels like you can make as many friends from your neighbours as you like or ignore them altogether, whatever is your fancy.  In fact, generally, the vibe is wonderfully relaxed.  There’s no hassle to get in and get out for the next cover, this is take-your-time style eating, laid-back gluttony.  Perfect. 

Soon the food starts trotting out.  Let’s get started with the sides because, you know, I like to leave the best ‘til last. 

So, we have fresh seasonal fruit slaw and jalapeño potato salad. 



OK, so with the slaw I am not sure where the fruit is.  And I don’t like potato salad (actually, there’s a confession about potatoes somewhere on this blog…).  But, if I’m honest, neither really matter because these two sides are rocking.  Seriously, nailed it.  The slaw is crunchy and tasty, without going the way of so many others and being too cloying.  Same goes for the potato salad, which can be a slick of mayo-based sludge populated by the occasional over-boiled spud.  Not so here: It’s delicious, with a smack of dill and punch of jalapeño, this is wonderfully more-ish and leaves a professed potato-dodger coming back for more and more and more. 

I also ordered up a schooner of BBNo’s Session IPA. 


This was similarly delicious.  As any ‘session’ beer ought to be, it was thoroughly drinkable and very tasty.  Another good drop with food. Actually, I should mention at this stage that these aren’t pints, they’re 2/3rd pint glasses, which makes them more manageable and means you can drink a wider variety of beers.  Which has to be a good thing, right?

Now let’s get serious and talk about the meat.  Because, let’s be honest, that’s why you’re still reading this.



Meat comes on a platter, three different types: pork belly (marinated in the Session IPA), lamb shoulder, and beef brisket.  On the side is a little pot of their own BBQ sauce, made today with a BBNo porter. 

Let’s start with the pork. 


This was beautiful – rich, buttery fat had slowly rendered into the meat leaving smoky, soft belly pork that melted in the mouth.  Devine, but sadly too little of it.

The smokiness of all of the meats was something else, something I have not properly had in the UK before, proper Texan.  The meats are smoked for up to 16 hours (!) over a mix of lime, silver birch and English red oak.  The quality of the cooking process really shows – there are no cheats here, no corners cut.   

Then there was the lamb. 


Now, as a general rule, I tend to avoid lamb when eating out and very rarely cook it.  I have nothing against lamb, honestly, it’s just that it can be so very hit-and-miss.  When it’s done well, it’s divine.  When it’s not, I find it way too fatty to be enjoyed.  Fortunately, this was a case of the former.  In fact, this was a case of hole-in-one, knock-your-socks off lamb.  The outer layers were nicely charged and smoky, and the whole meat was slow cooked so that it came away like pulled lamb.  But the flavouring was intense – a dolloping of chopped herbs and spices that left the meat still very much America BBQ-esque but somehow introduced all the European flavours that offset lamb so well.

And brisket.  Brisket is always, always going to be the star of any Texan BBQ show.  BBQ brisket is like a religion over there, as if it were the one essential component that you can’t really skip out.  It is kind of revered, and that’s a pretty heavy burden to have to carry. 


Here it’s executed to perfection.  Just look at it.  It.  Charred and crusted on the outside, there’s a distinct pink edge all the way around showing where the smoke has permeated the meat.  It’s soft as hell – you could spread this stuff on a saltine cracker without difficulty, which from a tough as originally tough as brisket is invariably impressive.  And it was oh so tasty, beautiful smoky meat, oh so good.  The BBQ sauce was a real winner with this too.  As was the porter we sampled as well – properly dark, rich and bitter, it worked wonders with the rich meat. 

Then there was seconds.  SECONDS.  Good stuff. 



(Actually, I think there was way more than seconds – the couple next to us kept asking for more – although we were stuffed by this stage.)

Pudding came too, a millionaire’s brownie – basically a chocolate brownie with a shortbread base and a caramel top – accompanied by bourbon cream and strawberries.


If I’m honest, this wasn’t the highlight.  It was with some relief that it was revealed Howard’s Meat Co. was not responsible for this – it was bought in.  I reckoned it was there because you couldn’t offer lunch to an Englishman without a pudding, but frankly I’d have preferred it if they’d thrown in another beer (the first was free), or shaved a couple of quid off the asking price.  But maybe that’s just me. 

BBNo is running a series of these events – known as Dine Street.  I shall be watch their announcements closely to see what else is on the menu in future.  Provided the quality of food is remains that consistently brilliant, it’s a great thing to do on a Sunday afternoon, a nice break to the same old trip to the pub for roast beef and yorkies.  Similarly, next time I find myself at one of these oh-so-trendy food festivals I shall be keeping my eye out for Howard’s Meat Co. – because there I know I am going to get 100% quality, authentic Texan fare.  Top marks to both.

Thursday, 19 March 2015

The Chinese Cricket Club

You don't get much Chinese food on this website, and I'm sorry about that.  You see, the thing is that, growing up, my folks never really enjoyed it and so I never really got used to eating it.  They were always put off by cheap Chinese takeaways – greasy, gloopy, overly sweetened and packed with monosodium glutamate.  Not ideal.

As with almost all things food related in London, we have moved on a long way since then.  I'm trying to ease my way back in to a cuisine I know virtually nothing about.  So when a friend offered to take me out for dinner and suggested Chinese, I readily agreed.

The Chinese Cricket Club is, I am happy to say, a relatively standard Chinese restaurant.  There's not anything about it that's fancy or over-the-top, like Hutong in the Shard, or the Michelin-ed types like Hakkasan or Yauatcha.  This is standard Chinese restraunteering – with the one exception to the places we'd visit when I was a kid in that it is actually good.

Ravi guided me through the meal, ordering for the pair of us.  We started with dim sum – which, I know, is not an evening dish in China, but then we're not in China, we're in Blackfriars.  

We started with a platter and they are as follows: scallop siu mai (centre, yellow cases topped with orange roe), har gau (white balls), chicken and spinach dumplings (green cases, white insides, top and bottom of basket) and duck dumplings (orange-brown cases, left and right of basket).



Would you believe that this was the first ever dim sum I have had?  It is, actual fact.  I went to Hong Kong a few years ago to visit a friend who had been posted there.  Whilst out there I resolved to go to a dim sum restaurant.  So booked one just before I left – not just any old joint either, a place that had been recommended to me as the best place for dim sum on the island.  My friend and I turned up only to find that they were not serving dim sum because it was night time.  That's how I came to know that dim sum is strictly not an evening thing.

Regardless of when you're meant to eat them, these were lovely.  Served with spicy and sweet sauces, I found they worked almost best on their own, allowing the fresh, clean, subtle flavours to come out properly.


Scallop siu mai.


Chicken and spinach dumpling.

We also had some special king crab steamed dumplings, which Ravi ordered knowing my love of crab.


These were awesome.  Also, one of the nice – and reassuring – things about the restaurant is that, when they came to the table, the waiter instantly recognised that they were overdone and whipped them away, only to come back with freshly made, perfectly cooked examples a little later.  Now, of course, I would rather they were done right the first time, sure – bit it's nice to know that even the wait staff know what they’re about.

For mains we shared five hour braised pork belly and steamed sea bass.  An eclectic mix, but good to have a range.


The pork was divine – soft, melt in the mouth, with a delicious sticky-sweet Chinese marinade.

The sea bass was equally excellent albeit completely different.  It was served with a sharp soy sauce, it was a delightfully balanced dish that felt fresh and light, without losing any of its flavour.


Ravi uses The Chinese Cricket Club as an everyman joint – it's as good for taking out a client as it is for popping out for a meal when working late.  With food this dependable, I can see why.

- GrubsterBoy -


Monday, 24 November 2014

Tapas 24, Barcelona, Spain

This is completely cheating because I basically wrote about this place about a year ago and now I am writing about it all over again.  But I have three reasons why I shouldn't be criticised for doing so, which I think are pretty valid and compelling:

  1. Last time I didn't have my fancy camera so you had to make do with crappy iPhone pictures only (and not that many of them);
  2. Last time we arrived at 12.30 and ordered all the food only to realise afterwards that there was a lunch menu from 1pm that was much better but we which we were now too full to eat; and
  3. This place is absolutely flippin' amazeballs and deserves to be written about at every opportunity.
So with that in mind I am now going to write a lot about Tapas 24.

Basically, I was in Barcelona for a work thing, which ended on the Friday night (technically, Spain being Spain and keeping very Spanish social hours, it ended on the Saturday morning).  We had a preferential rate on the hotel if we wanted to stay on so I said GrubsterGirl that she should come and join me and we'd make a weekend of it.  She agreed on one proviso: we went to Tapas 24.



Tapas 24 is run by Carles Abellan, a former El Bulli chef, so it's a fair guess that he knows what he's doing.  We timed it right this time and managed to bag a seat at the bar during the peak lunchtime.  Operating out of a tiny kitchen hardly much bigger than a toilet cubicle, these lads knock together some of the best tapa I have ever had the immense pleasure of sampling.




We kicked off the proceedings with a couple of croquettas, as you do (it being Span and all).  They were good – and as freshly made as you're ever gonna get them – literally, we watched them being made and going into the fryer from where we sat.  But, frankly, Tapas 24 has so much else in store I'd recommend looking elsewhere on the menu.



Next up was the bikini sandwich.


Now, this is a quandary.  It's immensely popular in Barcelona / Catalonia but seems to be utterly unheard of elsewhere in the world.  And that's the quandary part, really, because it's bloody luverly.  A combination of soft, mozzarella-esque cheese, Iberico ham and black truffle, squished flat by a heavy toastie maker and baked so that the cheese oozes and the truffle mingles.  It is quite simply a work of art, and undoubtedly the best sandwich I have ever, ever had.  Better still, I now understand that Tapas 24's contribution is amongst the sandwich's finest examples.

Moving on to the more substantial dishes, there was a plate of corvina ceviche (corvina being a kind of salt water fish that's a little like trout).


This was delicious – absolutely fantastic, it managed somehow to be both immediately similar to a run-of-the-mill ceviche and be something unique and unexpected.

We also had the Iberico presa pork.



Presa is the end of the loin, at the neck, and is regarded as one of the finest cuts of meat from the pig.  Because of the quality and responsible rearing of the meat in Spain (and, I expect, in particular from their personal suppliers) you can have your presa rare, as opposed to the well done form in which all pig meat in the UK comes. This one was served Argentine style, with a chimichurri sauce full of herbs and spices.  Another definite hit (albeit not quite reaching the gargantuan heights of the ceviche).

For pudding we had the mango and chilli.


Another wonder, the range and matching of the flavours was intense.  A mango flavoured foam with lime zest stirred through it, topped with crushed chillies – it had it all.  But then, the surprise at the bottom was the lime grantia - slightly effervescent, almost pétillant - that just brought it all together.

But perhaps the star of the show – and possibly Tapas 24's signature dish – was the chocolate.



It's basically a beautifully smooth, heavy moose – almost unmoussey altogether, a thick chocolate cream perhaps – served with olive oil, sea salt and crisped bread.  I have almost no words for this.  The combination of a really fruity, peppery green olive oil and the chocolate, intensified by the salt, was extraordinary.  This is quite possibly the best pudding I have ever had, and definitely amongst my all time, top ten favourite dishes.  Superb.

One of the great things about Tapas 24 – and you've probably figured out by now that I think that there are a lot of great things – is the bill.  You've had food cooked for you created by a man who learned to cook in what was, at the time, the greatest restaurant in the world.  But it is far from bank breaking.  Whenever I've been asked over the last year or so where's good to eat in Barca, I always say here.  On this recent visit I was proved right.

 - GrubsterBoy -

Tuesday, 14 October 2014

Pulled Pork

There were so many wonderful things to come out of the epic road trip that GrubsterGirl (now Mrs Grubster) and I undertook four years ago.  One of them was the discovery of pulled pork.

Now, you're probably laughing at that – how could he never have had pulled pork until 2010? - but I swear that one in London had really heard of pulled pork back then.  It certainly wasn't the massive, omnipresent, pervasive food that it is today.  Sure, a few venues had popped up serving the stuff – Bodean's comes to mind – but it was much less of a thing then that it is now.  Indeed, other than a few specialist places, like Pitt Cue Co., the Deep South BBQ experience hadn’t really hit Britain's mainstream food scene then. 

It was in a roadside diner that we first tasted it.  We were on the road between Death Valley and Las Vegas and we were getting hungry.  So we pulled in at the first place we saw that wasn't a MacDonalds / Burger King / Subway.  There were a lot of Harley Davidsons parked up outside, and I began to feel good about this place – clearly, this was classic Americana.  We wandered into the bar which was thick with cigarette smoke and busy with Hell's Angels.  We decided to eat outside instead.  Little did we realise then that we had stumbled into the infamous Mountain Springs Saloon – a regular biker haunt.

So we ordered up the special of the day: pulled pork buns, slathered in BBQ sauce, and a cream soda each. 

It. Was. Incredible. 

Seriously, best pulled pork I've ever had. 

The below recipe bears no relation to that – indeed, it's barely even proper pulled pork as it's simmered in the oven not smoked on the grill.  But I don’t have a 6 foot long smoker, or even a garden to put one in, so this is really the best I can manage.  It also tastes pretty decent too.

I used a dry rub to season the meat first.  Rubs are another Deep South thing – basically, you take dry herbs and spices and rub it into the meat, leaving it overnight as a dry marinade.  It's well worth the effort.  This recipe makes about twice the amount you need, but that's ok because it can be stored in an airtight container for ages.  If you're barbequing cheap meat over the summer a really good idea would be to apply the rub the night before (although a mere hour marinade will make all the difference) and let it wallow.  That way your meat will taste all the better when it comes off the grill.

Dr Pepper is a Texan drink.  Most people don’t know that, but if you ever go to Texas they won't let you forget it.  In a town in Texas called Shiner I remember being asked by a young Texan if we had Dr Pepper in the UK.  She was surprised that we did.  It's a Texan drink, ya see.  I've used it here, instead of the more usual Coca Cola, to try to capture a little bit more of that taste of the South.  Surprisingly, it worked pretty well.  I also threw some bourbon in, an additional tip of the Stetson hat to the South.  I used Jack Daniels* because I had it kicking about in large quantities, but you could really go with anything.

Ingredients:


For the dry rub -

100g soft dark brown sugar
50g smoked paprika
30g ground chipotle (stick 30g work to chipotle peppers in a spice / coffee grinder, or just use regular chilli / cayenne powder)
20g granulated onion
20g granulated garlic
20g sea salt
20g black pepper
20g ground cumin
20g mustard powder

For the pork shoulder
Half a shoulder of pork, bone in
2 large white onions
4-6 garlic cloves
1l Dr Pepper
50ml Bourbon
1 jar chipotle paste (c. 90g)
½ a lemon (or the juice thereof)
1 bottle BBQ sauce
Soft white rolls (to serve)

This takes a little bit of time.  OK, it takes a lot of time – a couple of days if you're doing it properly - but it's totally worth it.  Just hang on in there.

1. Start by making the rub.  Basically, put all the ingredients in a large mixing bowl and stir until completely combined.  There's no particular magic to it.


2. Prepare the meat.  Trim off any rind as much of the surface fat as you can.  Trust me on this – your joint ought to be a particularly fatty piece of meat, you don’t need any more than is already in there.  You are going to end up with a fatty dish regardless, I'm just trying to slim down the quantity of it (you'll thank me later – namely at step 5).



When trimmed, take handfuls of the rub and liberally (and literally) rub it into the meat.  Make sure to get it into all the nooks and crannies, underneath and folds in the meat, in between the joins of the muscle and bone, and really get it lodged in the grain.  Then wrap it all up in cling film and stick it in the fridge overnight.




3. The next day get the meat out and let it come up to room temperature.  Pre-heat your oven to 150ºC whilst you're waiting.  You'll see that much of the rub as sort of 'soaked in'.



4. Top and tail and peel the onions, then cut them into eight parts before throwing them into the bottom of a large, cast iron casserole dish (or the nearest equivalent you can muster).  Bash the cloves and stick them in the dish – no need to bother with any fiddly peeling, you'll not be eating these, just tasting them.


Unwrap the joint and place this on top of the onions. 


Empty the jar of chipotle paste into pan and pour in the bourbon.  Now add the Dr Pepper, pouring so it comes about three-quarters of the way up the pan.  Put the lid on and stick it in the oven.  It needs at least 6 hours, but I actually did mine overnight.  It needs to be turned a couple of times during the process, however, so overnight won’t necessarily work for you.  It's done when you can flake the meat away from the joint with a fork.



(Turn one...)




(Turn two... See how the sauce has reduced a little and gone a bit darker.)



5. When done, remove the joint from the liquid, but strain and keep the liquid.  Allow the pork to cool down and dry out a little, then strip the meat from the bones, being careful to discard any cartilage, small bones or fragments, and excess fat.  You'll probably now see why I told you to remove as much fat as possible.  This is a greasy joint, and the cooled, congealed fat is grim. 





Shred, or 'pull', the pork to the kind of size you want to be eating it.


6. Cool the cooking liquid, ideally overnight, or at least a couple of hours, in the fridge.  You'll see a lot of the fat rises up to the top and solidifies.  Skim this off.  Then reintroduce it to the pan, add the lemon juice, and reduce by one third / half. 

7. To serve, douse the pulled pork in the reduced cooking liquid then stick it in a soft bun with loads of BBQ sauce and some pickles in you have to hand.  Wolf down.



 - GrubsterBoy -


* Yes, I know, it's not bourbon it's Tennessee Whiskey, yada yada yada... Whatevs.