Gizzi Erskine's Healthy Appetite

So, I have a new book.  Let me tell you how I got it.

 

 

Let me try to paint a little picture.

 

Last week, I found myself in a restaurant – well, more of a pub – up in Islington, with GrubsterGirl.  We were there as part of a book launch for a new tome generated by a celebrity chef, which is all very well and good and exciting.  As we were sat, waiting for the first course to appear, someone from the kitchen came over to talk to GG about an allergy issue – basically a message had not been passed from front of house to the kitchen that GG has a mild nut allergy. 

 

It was quite a squeeze in said pub and, due to the way the tables were arranged, I had my back to the chef who was talking to us and it would have been a pain to turn around.  Anyway, it was GG’s conversation and she was handling it.  No need to get involved.

 

However, I can hear that the chef talking to us is obviously pretty worried – who wouldn’t be worried about cooking for someone suffering nut allergies, mild or not – and is bending over backwards to try to deal with the situation.

 

And slowly it dawns on me.  We are here for Gizzi Erskine’s book launch.  We are having supper cooked for us by the author of that book.  The person talking to us from the kitchen must therefore be…

 

I twizzle myself round in my chair, awkwardly, to look up at the person towering above me.  It is.  It’s Gizzi frickin’ Erskine.  And she’s talking to my wife about how she’s going to tailor-make a meal for her, with no warning.

 

Call me some loser fanboy if you like, I don’t care – that’s pretty damn cool.

 

So where are we again?  The Draper’s Arms, that’s where, in deepest darkest Islington, near Angel.  It’s actually a very nice pub, in very nice little residential streets.  Gizzi Erskine has a new book out, called Gizzi’s Healthy Appetite, and we managed (through pure fluke, I might add – this is no sponsored post) to bag a couple of seats at a meal she was cooking to showcase some of the highlights.

 

Note to self: Biscuits with my face / book (which I have never written) printed on them = Ultra Cool.

But enough mucking around, we came for the food so here it is.

First course was a sort of appetiser course.  First dish out was walnut bagna cauda.

Bagna cauda, for those of you who don’t already know what it is (okay, I too had to look it up) is a Piedmontese dish – a sort of warm dip often eaten like a fondue.  In this instance it was served with crudités (always reminds me of the line in The Real Thing by Tom Stoppard: "Crudités! Perfect title for a pornographic revue.") which were made from wonderfully fresh, high quality veg.  I thought this dish was absolutely amazing – I was a bit concerned that it would taste a bit like the walnut equivalent of peanut butter (if there is such a thing) but not even remotely.  The fact that it was warm really added something as well.  Rich and more-ish.  Very nice.

Then we were presented with little bowls of stuff.  Dill, peeled baby prawns, pickles and a boiled egg, quartered. 

Minutes later jugs of bright purply-pink ooze appeared and we were asked to fill our bowls.  Which we dutifully did.

This was chłodnik.

What, you don’t know what chłodnik is either?  Dear oh dear.  I’ll tell you.  It’s a soup.  Specifically, it’s a Polish soup made with beetroots and buttermilk, served cold.  It’s also bloody delicious.  Looking at the recipe in the book, it seems pretty simple too and is wonderfully refreshing on a hot summer’s night.  Actually, flicking through the recipe book last night I was thinking: there's a lot here I want to make.  Chłodnik is just one of those things.

Next course was a medley of three dishes, everything arriving at the table on large plates to be eaten ‘family style’ as they say in the United States. 

The first to arrive was Thai roast duck with watermelon salad. 

It’s difficult (nay, impossible, says I) not to like this dish.  I bloody love watermelon salad, so it basically boded well from the start, but this was executed perfectly.  I loved the effect of sweet, refreshing watermelon balancing out the rich, fatty duck.  I’ve always liked duck with fruit sauce but always erred for sharp fruits, such as redcurrants.  I would never have thought of using sweet fruit but it worked an absolute treat.

Next out was crispy chicken with spiralized vegetable noodle salad and satay sauce.

GrubsterGirl got her special food mountain plate, due to her allergies, which was pretty sweet.

Very good, the noodle salad nicely dressed to pair well with the crispy chicken.  Great satay sauce. 

Then the ceviche.

OK, I admit it, this is a completely awful picture.  Sorry about that.  Basically, I missed this coming out (too busy stuffing my face with the first two excellent dishes) and by the time it got round to me the dish had basically be destroyed.  Which is a shame because, from other pictures I’ve seen, it was pretty good looking. 

Fortunately, there are some dishes you cannot spoil with bad looks.  This was one.  I bloody loved this.  The raw fish was marinated in yuzu, sesame and kumquat (finally answering a question I have been asking all my life – what are those little orange things for, other than making rank Corfiot liqueurs?).  Also in there was sweetcorn and avocado in there too and it was topped with coriander, basically making sure that all of my favourite flavours were mixed up into this one, fantastic dish.  I will be making this at home, for sure. 

So that was the first course, top marks.

Now onto the mains. 

Merguez shepherd’s pie…

…and fish stew.

Starting with the fish stew.  Very nice, if not my favourite dish of the day (but then, I’m not a huge fish eater).  A medley of fish, including some beautifully tender and tasty baby squid and some clams.  The sauce was basically the very traditional bouillabaisse Provençal (flavoured with fennel and saffron), which goes so well with fish and brings out all those salty, seafoody flavours.  There was also orzo (little, rice-like pasta) in there too, although to be honest it was a bit lost on me.

Then the Shepherd’s pie.  I have to be honest, at the time I was not really sure what makes this particularly ‘merguez’.  I thought merguez were those spicy sausages you get in Morocco (in fact, I know they are, having eaten them there).  But who cares, it was still pretty damn tasty - and, having checked, the stuffing is a mix of slow roasted lamb shoulder and merguez sausages. 

The topping was an interesting choice - cauliflower mash.  Now, if I’m honest, this doesn’t have the same consistency and unctuous-ness (Is that a word? It is now.) that good old mash has – it’s a bit looser, a bit less rich and starchy.  But it still works – and not just that, it’s still good.  In fact, it’s a much healthier yet still tasty equivalent.  Think semi-skimmed rather than full-fat milk – ok, sure, it’s not got the same wow factor, but it’s basically just as nice with much less fat.

By now, we were feeling pretty well fed.  There were a few words spoken, and Gizzi made a little speech talking about the food and what the book was trying to achieve – healthy eating without all the fad diets.  I thought she’d managed that quite well, with what I think sounds a fairly sensible approach – little changes and big flavours, which is a much  more manageable attitude. 
Then she said something great:  “It’s all been healthy… well, except for dessert.”

GOOD NEWS.

So, yes, pudding was pretty dirty.  In a good way.

Waffles, topped with roasted bananas, pineapple jam, and a chilli and honey butter.  The bananas were cooked ‘Foster’, which means flambéed with butter and sugar, which is just brilliant.  As I’ve said elsewhere, I’m sure, I generally don’t go in for hot puddings, preferring a scoop or two of sorbet at the end of a big meal.  But I am more than happy to make an exception for a dish like this.  The hot, caramelly bananas , with their sticky sweetness and background sharp twang that they take on when cooked, transported me back to the cadet camps and bonfire nights of my youth.  This was decadence in a pudding. 

What a meal.  At the end each diner was given a copy of the book, signed by the author and head chef. 

Meeting Gizzi (again?) was pretty cool.  Turns out, she’s a really lovely person.  They say don’t meet your heroes and I think it’s too often true.  That's not true of Gizzi – she's warm, friendly and welcoming.  Which is a lovely way to end a meal.

So yes, I have a new book.  And that was the story of how I got it.

It’s signed and everything.

Tiramisu

Tiramisu is one of those classic puddings, so classic it’s hard to know where or how to begin.  And, like all classics, I know I will offend some and leave others telling me it’s not authentic.  I have no doubt it’s not authentic; but I do like it.  Kudos to Jamie Oliver, from whom is recipe is adapted. 

Ingredients:

Fresh coffee beans (enough to make one, 1/2 litre cafetiere)
100g caster sugar
250g dark chocolate
50g butter
200(+)ml vin santo
3 eggs
500g mascarpone
1 orange

Start by brewing a pot of coffee.  Real coffee, please, none of that instant nonsense.  Next, break up all but 25g of the chocolate and pop it, along with the butter, into a Pyrex bowl over boiling water – making sure that the bowl doesn’t touch the bottom of the pan, or else the chocolate will burn.  Chuck in 50ml of the wine, melt and stir together.

Whilst that lot is melting, arrange the sponge fingers in the dish you’re going to be making the final product in.  The sponge I’m using is genuine Italian stuff from a little store in Borough Market, near where I work.  They’re fairly ace (and add a degree of authenticity to the dish) but I doubt they’re essential.  Pour about 200ml of the coffee over the biscuits followed by another 150ml of the wine.  Loads will pool in the bottom, but in about 30 seconds it’ll all have been absorbed.

 

Now spread half of your chocolate mix over the soggy sponge fingers.  Lather it on good and proper.

Now, whilst the chocolate cools, make your filling. 

You’ll see in the picture I have used four eggs.  This was waaaay too much, so I’ve reduced it to three.  Separate the eggs and whisk the egg yolks with the sugar, along with 25ml vin santo, until pale and fluffy, a bit like so. 

Add the zest of half an orange (again, I did too much when I took the pictures, so the written recipe is scaled back a bit here).

Then mix in the mascarpone.

Now, having washed your whisk up and dried it off, whisk the egg whites to stiff peaks.   

Carefully fold the egg whites into the yolk-mascarpone mix, being gentle so as not to lose all the whisked in air.  Probably not good for pregnant people, this dish.  Just a thought.

When fully combined, spread half of it over the top of your mixture. 

Now, if you are being really controversial (as I was) and prefer it with a higher sponge / coffee / booze ratio to usual (as I do) go in for a second layer.  If you want it more classico, then just spread all of it over the sponge. 

If you want a second layer, mix another 100ml coffee with another 50ml vin santo, and soak the sponge in that.  Then very carefully, lay them out on top of the last layer, tipping any excess coffee and wine mix over the top (there shouldn’t be any).  The advantage of doing it this way, although way more time consuming and difficult to achieve, is that you don’t pour all your coffee and wine over the foamy filling, which can deflate it slightly.  Although, all that said, in a hurry it’s not the end of the world.

Now slather on more of your melted chocolate-butter-wine mix, and the spread the remaining filling over the top. 

Grate your remaining chocolate on top then refrigerate for at least an hour before serving. 

Rex & Mariano

Rex & Mariano comes from some relatively serious commercial restaurant pedigree.  The business behind this is the same as that which opened the Goodman steak houses and Burger & Lobster, both of which seem to be chugging along in fine fettle, with a string of decent reviews and an ocean of devotees flowing in their respective wakes.  The place is also named for Rex Goldsmith, a doyenne of the Chelsea fishmonger world, and Mariano li Vigni, who... well, I’m not really sure, but he’s from Sicily and knows a thing or two about fish. 

Its atmosphere is classic modern fish spot, albeit slightly quiet when we went (a Friday lunchtime).  Loads and loads of space, with all the shiny marble-ness of an Italian restaurant mixed with the industrial chic of bare wire light fittings and open ventilation ducts throughout.  A sort of clash of cultures.  It feels nice, though, don’t get me wrong – a sort of relaxed, informal way of eating food that is often overly formal.

But the very first thing you notice is your waiter.  Because this is him.

Yup, an iPad.  For the most part, the waiting is automated, which is designed to cut down on the number of staff and thereby decrease the cost of the food.  On that front, it works – the prices of the dishes are indeed less than I would have anticipated, but then this is from the people who brought us £20 grilled lobsters and were able to employ human waiters.  I’m sceptical about this, partly because it means fewer jobs and partly because it undermines the almost entirely lost art of waiting tables – something which, when done properly and done well, is a joy to experience. 

But, you can’t get away from one simple fact: It’s pretty cool to watch it in action.  For example, we tapped away at our screen and ordered a brace of Aperol Spritz.  Mere seconds (no exaggeration) later, this happened.

And a few seconds after that, our drinks arrived.

So no more waiting around, no more mucking about.  This is an end to that irritating scenario where the table next to you arrives afterwards but orders first, or where you have to wait ages whilst the table of twenty five out on a team lunch have their mammoth order prepared and served.  At R&M they are swift, they are keen, the automation simply slots your order in a queue and it arrives as soon as it’s ready.

So here it is, in the order in which it came (which is the only way their food is served).

First up, sea bass ceviche. 

Slices of fresh-as-a-daisy sea bass marinated in coriander, yuzu (a Japanese citrus fruit somewhere between a lemon, a lime and a grapefruit), red onion and tiger’s milk (not actually – leche de tigre is the Peruvian name for the juice that marinades and is created by the process of ceviche – it’s basically lime juice, chilli, onion and salt). 

GrubsterGirl also had some oysters (I’m a bit of an oyster pansy, I’m afraid) – two of each of the rocks and the natives.  I was informed that they were very good value.

A bowl of courgette fries. 

These were really, really good – much better than I was expecting, and blowing Byron’s much better known (and the original?) version out of the water.  They were piping hot, encased in a light batter that somehow stayed crunchy even once the fries had cooled. 

Fish carpaccio platter.

From top to bottom: sea bass, salmon and tuna.  Let’s just pause a moment to note that, in order to do this dish, you have to have spankingly fresh fish.  Which they have.  In central London.  That’s one of my take home points about this place – their seafood is genuinely very good.

If I want to be picky / fussy, these were the three fish that dominated the menu.  But I like them so I simply don’t care.  Also, the fish had some funny tomato stuff on it which simply didn’t work.  But other than that, good dish.

Then there is the lobster ceviche.

Yup.  This was actually so good, we ordered it twice.  Just stunning, the balance of flavours was perfect that the ceviche process had ‘cooked’ the lobster meat to absolute perfection.  The fennel worked so unbelievably well with it, I was genuinely taken aback.  Ten out of ten for this one. 

We skipped pudding – the list looked a bit meagre, a bit of an afterthought, which was a shame.  But of course (this being an Italian restaurant in London) there was the classic complimentary shot of limoncello at the end.

Rex & Mariano is a great concept, selling food well and at decent prices.  It’s still not cheap though – not in the same draw-dropping way that Burger & Lobster seems able to pull off its crustaceans – but more what I’d call good value.  And the quality of the food, simple as it is, was magnificent.  There are chains you see sprouting up all of the time, and in most cases I feel a bit ‘take it or leave it’.  But not in this case.  I’d like R&M to go all the way, please.

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.