Pix Soho

Pix-Bar - or 'Snack Bar' in English - is my idea of heaven. Let me tell you why...

... When things take you by surprise they always seem so much better don't they? I have no idea how many times I actually walked passed this place before I finally decided to go in, but if I ever end up running my own restaurant and see a guy like me doing nothing more than window-shopping for 2 years, then I'll start to wonder whether I'm doing something wrong: Is it me? Is it the branding? Is it the smell? Does this guy even exist? For the welfare of the inn-keepers sanity, and after 2 years of observing from a distance, I finally made the big step into the Soho snack bar. Only to be told that they were full. Bugger.

But here's reason no. 1 why this is heaven: The staff are actually humane about the concept of the no-booking system. Rather than asking you to line the streets as if you're about to sign-on, they take your number and suggest that you go for a drink across the road until they are ready for you. How easy is that?

This is in stark contrast to the current trend, where restaurateurs churn out customers like a farmer would when sheering his sheep. This is executed rather aggressively - by ramming the food down your throat before you even have time to take a breath. Once they have decided that you have had enough they then take your plate, frisk you for all your worth and then boot you out onto the street, demanding that you triple-pat your belly and give a thumbs-up to the shivering punters lining the streets outside.

Patiently sitting in the pub next door I was getting more and more anxious as the clock ticked closer to the time the manager said he would call me. I felt like Ashley Cole would have done on the eve of World Cup squad announcement day. I prayed that I wouldn't have the same fate as he did. 

Ring ring. My time had come.  

We were seated right at the back which allowed us to have a preview of what we were about to experience. The format here is that all of the food is laid out on the bar for you to pick and choose whatever dish you want. Each item has one of two sized wooden skewers sticking out of it. It's pretty simple - small sticks = £1.95, large sticks = £2.75. You then collect the sticks in a jar for them to be added-up later.

The overall vibe of the bar I would say has a very romantic feel to it. It's dim lighting, tile-panelling and small tables sets an intimate atmosphere. Perfect for a date. Or alternatively for three hungry and thirsty blokes to graze for a an hour or two. Either way this place will satisfy your desires. 

Even the way in which they open the large window at the front, inviting people to come in, look at the food, leave if they want to, but invariably they will stay because it all looks so irresistible. 

This place oozes relaxation and gives reason no. 2 a nudge as to why it is heaven: The staff are there purely as bar tenders. No table service means no interruption during the course of your meal. For me there is nothing worse than someone praying over you whilst you eat. This privacy and relaxed atmosphere is a precious commodity in London's dining scene nowadays. It's refreshing. It's heavenly. 

The food itself is not mind-blowing, but the variety of what is laid out creates conversation, it encourages you to be adventurous; but above all, it allows you to see and smell the food you are about to sample. So in this sense, there is rarely a swing and a miss when it comes to whether or not you would like the dish you choose.  

What I will say is that my two pals and myself have 20/20 vision and a keen sense of smell, hence why every dish we selected was a home-run. Naturally...

Accompanied with a bottle of their very reasonable £20 Acantus Rose, we kicked things off with the Smoked Mackerel Pate.

This was followed by the stuffed olives in breadcrumbs alongside the Iberico Ham and fried Quail's Egg.

After a breather we then tucked into the Tuna with Sweet Peppers. The tuna was fresh, tender, and had a fantastic deep-pink colour to it. I could eat this all day. 

On top of the Parma Ham that followed, we treated ourselves to many of the other delights that were laid out on the bar.

Going up to the bar for more grub was addictive. I would have spent all night there had the rose not got the better of me. The key thing about this place is that you don't feel as if you are being rushed, it was a delightful dining experience. 

This is a place for any occasion. It is inviting for those who are curious and comfortable for those who finally decide to step indoors. 

Please don't make the same mistake as I did. If you walk past it, go in. And if you don't, just be sure to not make eye contact with the duty manager; his sanity rests on your shoulders. 

Sausage & Tomato Bake

What's better than chucking a load of ingredients in a pan, slamming the oven door shut and just letting the fresh ingredients work together to create something that is quite simply - don't mind me saying - DELICIOUS?

I have to admit this is an adaptation of a rather famous t.v. chef's recipe, but whose isn't right ;). 

So here goes...

(serves 4)

Ingredients:

• 12 DECENT sausages (preferably spicy Italian but they are quite hard to come by)
• All different shapes, colours and size of tomatoes (how many is up to you, but 3 packs of different tomatoes should be fine
• 1 pack of diced / sliced pancetta
• Chorizo sausage
• 1 courgette
• 2 peppers (1 red & 1 orange)
• 1 red onion
• 5 garlic cloves
• Herb de Provence
• Rosemary
• Dried chilli (or fresh – no biggy)
• Fresh basil
• 1 loaf of Ciabatta bread 

Process:

• Slice and dice all of the vegetables. Maintain a pretty decent size all round – don’t cut cherry tomatoes in half, just the large ones into quarters.
• When all vegetables diced, throw into large bowl with garlic cloves (halved), onion (diced into big chunks) and oil.
• Season the bowl with salt and pepper and give it a good toss around with olive oil.

• Place sausages in baking tray and chuck in a preheated oven (180⁰). DON’T PIERCE THE GODDAM SAUSAGES.
• Whilst sausages are in the oven, slice up the pancetta and chorizo and chuck in a SEPARATE baking tray. Put in oven and keep a keen eye on it.
• You will see that the pancetta and chorizo cook pretty quickly – about 5 mins.
• Once cooked take out of oven, shake about a bit and then throw in the big bowl of veg. Add the herb de Provence, chilli and rosemary and mix well. Put back in oven.
• Now you have a bit of time to breathe.
• When the sausages are nice and brown, take them out of the oven and place them all on some kitchen paper on a plate to cool.
• You will see that after about 20 mins of the veg mix being in the oven it starts to soften a bit. Take it out, give it another stir.
• When sausages are cool enough, chop into inch long chunks.
• When you are confident that all of the vegetables are cooked into a soft, bubbly, sloppy mess, put sausages in and stir into the veggie mix. Then throw in some chopped basil and give a good stir.

• Now grab the ciabatta, rub with water (don’t soak) and place in the oven. Cook for about 4-5 minutes.
• When ciabatta cooked, take out and slice.
• Get four bowls, take out the bake and serve...

DIP, SCOOP, LICK AND ENJOY!

Burger & Lobster

Just because people talk about Justin Bieber all the time doesn't go to say that he's a decent bloke. A PR machine with an unfounded ego who delivers tasteless over-priced performances to an over-excited crowd. I think you know where I'm going here... 

It's just one of those places isn't it? 

A lot has been said about Dean Street's Burger & Lobster, mostly mixed reviews, but I thought I should give it a test-drive and see what all the chat was about...

Despite the fact that it was the Tuesday after the Easter bank holiday, the place was still absolutely heaving. A crowded bar and a full service meant for a great atmosphere - it had an American steak or rib-shack vibe to it. Time to get excited, order a drink and look through the menu... Or not. No menus in this joint, forcing us to fully interact and engage with our waitress. How dare they?! 

I've read many reviews of this place and most of them applaud the knowledge and passion of the staff by the fact that they know the menu off by heart. I admire it when restaurant staff have an in-depth knowledge of the menu, an opinion, and most importantly a good memory, but when their spiel consists of nothing more than what's about to follow, then I'm not exactly overawed: 'Good evening, welcome to Burger & Lobster. On the menu today we have burger and er, well, lobster. On the specials board we have more lobster, but if you don't have deeper pockets than from where these guys were caught from, then I won't waste my breath on you'. But what did I expect?

Seeing as there were four of us we decided on one grilled lobster, one burger and one of the pay-by-the-pound lobsters on the specials board (just to at least pretend to the waitress that we thought she did a good sales pitch). 

With the burger and grilled lobster at £20 a pop, we were expecting something pretty special. God only knows what we were going to be charged for the big chap on the board, but at least our host introduced us to him in the tank before he was sent out back. 

Now here's where my hunch began to form. Where in the world are you expected to pay the same price for a burger as you do a lobster?! Yes it creates ease of choice and speed of service, but 20 quid for a burger! This better be good.

Whilst waiting for our food I nipped to the gents, only to find that on my way there I got the benefit of some quick feet drills trying to dodge the army of staff that seemed to gather and move around like a shoal of fish. There were bloody hundreds of them, all with a slightly confused face on them. Perhaps they were trying to recite the menu over and over in their head whilst approaching each table? Either way, the realisation that this place was a money-making machine suddenly hit me. Not only do they have an army of staff, but the venue is enormous. But they've earn't it right? The food is exquisite... Right?

So the food finally came out and I have to admit it was a spectacle: A HUGE grilled lobster was placed in the middle of the table alongside a surprisingly large burger. This was accompanied by another - smaller - steamed lobster as well as a bowl of chips each, of which were unlimited. 

So into the burger we dove, expecting a sloppy, greasy and delicious mess. I'm afraid not. Two words: Dry and Bland. For the first time ever in a restaurant I genuinely felt insulted. Created by the founders of the infamous and well-respected steak restaurant Goodman, I expected a certain level of quality at £20 and I'm afraid that they delivered well below par on this. 

The lobster itself was impressive in its appearance, but it certainly wasn't the best I'd ever tasted. It was slightly tough and lacked that lightness that you would expect. However I'm all for alternative dining experiences and I really enjoyed hacking, picking and snapping my way through the poor fellow I only just met about 10 minutes earlier. The conversation and laughter it creates when everyone dives in with their tools - each with own technique of dissecting the lobster - is the reason why I can't help but love an experience like this. 

All in all however I was deeply unimpressed. The whole experience - in theory - is great, but how can you charge that much money and not deliver a certain level of quality? I'd be interested to see how many of the people who were in the packed restaurant were visiting for a second time. I can't imagine it was too many. 

Am I uncultured? Am I a cynical tosser? Am I a cheapskate? Perhaps. But morning after receipt-checks and post-digestion analysis on the dunny the next morning confirms that I would have been better off if I had played a game of thumb wars against one of those unfortunate crustaceans. 

But I have to take my hat off to them. They've created a monster.

Ember Yard

Endless deliveries of bite-sized beauties alongside an abundance of the amber nectar. The Sharing Platter was born due to my love of tapas, and last week at Ember Yard I was reminded why.

Sister restaurant to Salt Yard on Charlotte Street, Berwick Street's Ember Yard is a newbie, demonstrated by the potent smell of fresh paint when we were led downstairs to our table. Granted we were there for an early lunch so the chef clearly hadn't fired up the grill yet, but the whiff of paint isn't the most inviting welcome gift! However, I was willing to forget, and that I did when the gentle hiss of the grill was heard from the kitchen, followed closely by the comforting aroma of smouldering embers. 

The menu itself is extensive without being too complex; On the one side you have the charcuterie and on the other you have the tapas. Naturally, we dabbled in both sides of the menu, helpfully assisted with some translation and guidance from the charming Spanish waitress. She made it known pretty early on in the sitting that it was her first day, adding a certain amount of comedy to proceedings. 

We kicked things off with some Spanish cheese (apparently they start with cheese over there) which didn't blow us away. I found it too soft, sour and generally unsubstantial. An unfortunate slip-up at the first hurdle, but from then on we leaped and bounded our way to the finish line. 

Next the waitress bought out... Actually, hang on. I'm fed up of saying 'the waitress'. Let's call her Elena. In honour of Penelope Cruz's character in The Mask of Zorro. Mainly cause she looked kinda like her...  

...Next Elena bought us some flatbread topped with honey, thyme and smoked butter. In all honesty it took me by surprise initially as I thought it was garlic bread. But after the initial shock I found it to be literally the most pleasantly surprising thing I had tasted in a long time. The smokiness of the butter, the sweetness of the honey and the freshness of the thyme was an exceptional combination. I don't know whether this is a staple dish on a tapas menu, but sign me up. Every time.

Elena was then so kind as to bring us some chorizo skewers with a mustard dip alongside the the board of Iberico Ham. Now we were getting into it. Spicy, greasy, juicy chorizo followed by some wafer thin Iberico Ham would be a vegetarians nightmare. Confirmation that we were certainly not vegans came through the demolition of the two boards. At this stage I had a slight hint of starting to feel a bit full, what could possibly come next?

Any over-fulfilment was erased when the sliders were bought out...

...Followed closely by some deliciously tender smoked mackerel...

...Which was then tail-gated by something pretty special. I'm a massive pork lover, and these Iberico Presa delights really sealed the deal. No room for these wet flannels who believe that pork should not be pink. Make your stomach work double-time so your jaws can relax and glide through the meat!

So we are all aware of the 'Oh you've gotta try this dish' right? The one dish that everyone talks about. The one that is plastered all over their website, the one which is Instagramed, Tweeted, Facebooked, the one which bloggers go bananas over and spray hyperboles about all over the place.

Well this is the one. The main event. The crème de la crème. The goddam Oscar winner. The greasy, smoky, bubbly, ember-stained champion. The roasted and chargrilled Iberico pork ribs ladies and gentlemen! #nofilter :)

Wow. Now for me to wipe the sweat off my brow and to summarise what was a very special meal. 

Simple food done very well was the order of the day here. Good company, great service, and delicious food. 

You see for me, tapas isn't just about that fantastic array of food that is laid out. It's about exploration in trying something new and encouraging others to do the same. 

I could live here. Elena can join me. We'll lie for eternity on a bed of Iberico Pork Ribs. 

The Ultimate Cheese Board

Happy New Year one and all!

So the Festive period is over. Back to work, back to the gym, broken livers and broken bank accounts. This means only one thing - it's January. The time of year when we all feel the prolonged hangover and chill of the bleak midwinter. A time for contemplation and resolution. The time when I hunch at my desk, occasionally prodding at my turkey-belly, hoping that this will mean I don't have to get up for the gym tomorrow morning. 

This won't stop me smiling though. Smiling at the memories of the enjoyment friends and family got out of our festive feasts. The 'Ooooos', the 'Aahhhhs' and the 'I can't eat this' (reference to how I spiced-out my step-dad in the post-Christmas curry). All feedback made was in good taste and good humour, no less was the case with the obligatory cheese board. A key moment in time for all food lovers. 

For those of you who have been collared by a dinner party host to hold the responsibilities of attaining the dairy, here's a quick-fire insight into my personal favourites...

Vacherin Mont d'Or 

Vacherin is presented in the same manner as baked Camembert - oozing cheesy goodness in a box, begging to be dipped and scooped at, occasionally swallowing the broken crackers of over-zealous dippers. The difference here is that Vacherin holds a lot of flavour so there is no need for additional oils or herbs. It's pure and honest cheese heaven in a box.

After trying a few different methods of serving, I have concluded that serving at just above room temperature is the optimum condition. When you have taken whatever you were cooking out of the oven, turn it off and chuck in the Vacherin with the lid on. You can leave it in there for however long you like. When you are ready pull it out and bang it on the table. You will not be disappointed. 

Black Bomber

We always need a cheddar on the board, it is essential. But don't settle for sub-standard 'plastic' brands. Go big and go Black Bomber. You need something that's really going to tickle you, create a crunch and pack a punch. Black Bomber has all of these in abundance. That's all I have to say.

Comte 

A rustic, creamy addition to the board. You literally can't go wrong with this. I was introduced to Comte in London's Borough market a couple of summers ago and it is always the first thing I pick up whenever I go there. If you manage to have a nosey around the market it is impossible to miss the Comte stalls. Huge wheels of the stuff piled high on top of one another, with the vendors offering up free tastes which cannot be refused. 

Blue Monday

Alex James - musician, songwriter, author, TV personality, columnist and cheesemaker. What's that? Cheesemaker? 

Yes. And a damn good one at that. 

Like cheddar, there is always room for a blue such as Stilton or Cambozola. But these are regularly the ones which people don't finish due to the sharp taste. Blue Monday defies this. Despite the fact that it is a blue, it is still creamy, soft and unintrusive. This doesn't last long so make sure you get your money's worth early doors. 

Stinking Bishop

Now I treat a cheese board as if I was selecting a five-aside football team. We need strength, solidity, the occasional bit of flare, and one stinker who will repeatedly leather your taste-buds into row Z. They are picked purely for comedy value, to lift the spirits and lower the tone. 

This cheese is rude. Plain and simple. But if you can break through the initial stench you will be pleasantly surprised by it's kindness. Try it, you'll enjoy it. 

So there it is. The Sharing Platter's ultimate cheese board. Let us know how you get on.

Street Feast @ Hawker House

For those of you who don't know, Street Feast is a 'nomadic street food circus' that curates vibrant experiences for food lovers. 

Myself and a few mates headed to Hawker House on Friday to see what it was all about, and what a treat it was...

When presented with a queue the size of what it was on Friday night, in any other situation I'm pretty sure that I'd be kicking and screaming my way to the front door, preparing to mutter at least one or two expletives under my breath at the door man. 

Nothing of the sort. On this occasion there was an overriding sense of contentment throughout the punters in the queue. I'd say calmness, but maintaining this state of being was an impossible task. I'm pretty sure that this was down to the unassuming showmanship of the Mama's Jerk Station chef, who casually flipped and basted the mountains of chicken thighs. Every flip would send out a puff of smoke into the queue. Breathe in through the nose... and exhale: 'aahhhhhhhhhhh!'

The drool trail guided us to the next stage of the queue - Smokestak with their 4.5 tonne custom built smoker. Uh oh. The chef opened up the smoker to reveal the bubbly glaze of the BBQ ribs, which was then followed by an eruption of smoke onto the onlookers. This was too much. Get me inside. NOW!

When we finally made it through the door for the more than reasonable price of £3, the sense-assault then began. The sights, sounds and smells were unreal. The combination of the food, the music, the dim lighting and the warmth, created an atmosphere and vibrancy that can only be described as exceptional. 

Moving through the venue to meet our friends who were 'holding down positions at the Whiskey Bar', we managed to get our bearings and scope out what were going to eat. The conclusion was pretty simple - we'd have the lot.

For the majority of the evening we stood propped-up at the Whiskey Bar, re-fuelling ourselves with cocktails whilst one recon man at a time would move out to collect some nourishment.

First on the list was Yum Bun's Pork in a steamed bun. Now for those of you who read my last post will appreciate that these aren't for me. But rest assured that everyone else was blown away. 

Next were the Slider Bar's mini burgers in the form of a cheeseburger and a 5 chilli cheeseburger. For me it's really hard to get the feel for a burger when there is only two bites-worth of goodness, but in the spirit of tasting everything on offer these were more than enough, and DAMN good. 

Back to the bar and a few more 'Barman's Choice' whiskeys down, we then moved onto the Rola Wala's special, which for the average punter can only be described as an Indian pizzas. We ordered two (Organic Pulled Pork and Channa Dal) and passed them round one-another until they were gone, 'hhmmming' and 'aahhhhing' with every breath, trying to savour every last crispy bite of the spicy pizzas. They didn't last long and there were absolutely delicious. 

Without a break we then moved onto the Rib Tips by Smokestak. Presented in a paper bag these sticky little dudes were unbelievable, the kind of rich smokiness that makes you cough every time you swallow. For me this is how it should be. To be reminded with every bite that these weren't just cooked, they were barbecued in a 4.5 tonne custom-built smoker with all the TLC that ribs deserve.

The following couple of hours involved many other treats from the likes of Breddos Tacos, Bob's Lobster and Mama's Jerk Station. If I wrote about all of them we would be here for hours, but all in all I was blown away. The whole atmosphere of the place put smiles on the faces of everyone around us. People with one common interest in one perfectly curated experience. 

I can still smell the smoke on my clothes now. It reminds me of the scene in The Simpsons when Bart refuses to wash his hand for fear of losing the scent of the girl he had a crush on...

..I can't stop thinking about you Street Feast. 

Flesh & Buns

Filament light bulbs, queues and communal seating seems to be the theme de rigueur running through the restaurant scene at the moment. 

Strangely enough though, one never actually ends up conversing with the person who has been placed next to them. We merely use each other as guinea pigs so that we can build a rating of each dish in our minds. Most people just glance over and lamely point out: 'That's supposed to be really good here'. Until another plate comes out and they realise that the dish they were thinking of wasn't actually the first one they pointed out. Confusion erupts across the table. Back to square one. Some brave souls actually manage to break-down the social barrier and ask the people next to them what they have had and whether or not it was worth trying. A useless exercise if you ask me. 

You know what? Next time I'm in a restaurant I'm going to skip the first two steps and move straight onto asking if I can have a bite. Let's see how that goes down.

Anyway where were we? Ah yes, Flesh & Buns...

Placed just off the Seven Dials in Covent Garden - a place starved of some decent grub - the arrival of the new restaurant is a welcome sight. Birth-child of Soho's Bone Daddies, it came with great expectations, so when I rolled in there one Wednesday lunchtime I arrived with high hopes.

After entering through the rather over-sized barn door, you can be forgiven for thinking that you have just walked into anything but a restaurant. But when you make yourself down the stairs and into the restaurant itself, you are immediately comforted by the smell of oriental cuisine and a friendly waitress itching to sit you down and show-off the restaurant's delights. 

I must add also that this place is enormous, more filament than you can shake a stick at and dominated by one huge table that runs the full length of the restaurant. There must be space for at least 30 people on there, which more than advocates the idea of surrounding yourself with like-minded people to elevate the vibe.

After we sat down in one of the booths we ordered a couple of beers, some crackers and a bowl of edamame beans whilst we mulled over the menu. The highlight of this for me was the tomato salsa that was presented with the starters. So fresh and vibrant that we managed to get through two boxes of crackers and 4 pots of salsa. We couldn't help ourselves. 

The vibrancy of the food continued throughout the starter, the edamame beans were covered in huge chunks of rock salt, invigorating the taste buds and preparing them for what lay ahead. 

Something that we have got very used to with this new brand of restaurants is the simplicity of the menus, here it is quite large in comparison. It ranges from delicate sushi fish, to grilled meat and chocolate fondants. You almost want it to be just Flesh & Buns, no messing about, after all this is the reason why people come here isn't it? 

After much deliberation we decided to choose one meat each (to share), which was to be accompanied by a number of buns (or so we thought). It transpired that for each plate of meat we would only get 2 buns. This meant that there would be vacant, lonely and redundant pieces of meat left on the plate with no bun for it rest upon. This left us confused, annoyed and irritated. It meant that we would have to order more portions of buns at the rather steep price of £2.50 for 2 buns. 

Anyway rant over... What we were presented with was some truly sensational meat - one BBQ Sirloin Steak and 4 Kimchi Lamb Chops. WOW. 

The only bit of feedback I got from my eating buddy was: 'The only problem with lamb chops is that there is never enough meat on them'. Never has a truer word been said! These were the real deal. 

I'd go as far to say that they were the best lamb chops I have ever eaten. Great quality meat matched with flawless cooking meant that there was wonderfully tender meat underneath a charcoal glaze. I couldn't recommend them higher.

Now some people aren't going to like me for saying this, but the only flaw to this dish was the bun. I mean they have a nice appearance and I love the idea, but after spending the best part of 5 minutes trying to fine-tune the masterpiece above, upon placing it in my mouth I ended up having a chewing fight with myself. After every mouthful I had to use my chopstick to dig out remnants of the bun from my teeth. The contrast in emotions from before and after the first bite was vast: Excitement and anticipation was soon replaced by a warm sticky mess. Some people may see that as a good time. But not me. Not during lunch at least. 

  
Following the chops we were presented with the sirloin steak. Again - brilliant, the picture speaks for itself. Not much more could be said about this apart from the fact that the sauce it was presented with was much needed and welcomed with open arms. 

Unfortunately we had to skip dessert, but apparently the S'mores are great fun. D.I.Y. melt your own marshmallows in a wafer biscuit with chocolate sauce. A good excuse to come back again.

All in all however I left Flesh & Buns with mixed emotions - happy I came due to the sheer quality of the food, but also quite confused. Mainly because I only liked half of the reason I decided to come. But we live and learn don't we?

Next time it's just 'Flesh' for me...

Sharing Recipe #1 - The Boy's Burrito Mix

This particular recipe of mine - well, I shouldn't say 'mine' for fear of being booted out onto the street by my housemates - [OUR'S] is an all time great. 

Having lived together for almost 3 years now, we have had plenty of practice in perfecting our recipe. The flavour has always been there or there abouts, but it's the consistency which has always been the hardest nut to crack. Question: How do you roll wet burrito mix in a wrap? Answer: You can't. 

Benito's Hat will beg to differ, but they are Mexican and have tortillas the size of sombreros.

For the mere mortals among us I have a solution. Enjoy...

The Boy's Burrito Mix (serves 4):

Ingredients
1,000g lean mince beef
1 x pack of large tortillas / 4 x sweet potatoes
2 x red onions
4 x garlic cloves
1 x can of red beans
1 x can of baked beans
1 x can of chopped tomatoes
1 x green pepper
1 x table spoons of cumin
1 x sachet of 'Old El Paso' Fajita/Taco/Burrito mix 
1 x beef stock cube
1 x large squirt of sticky BBQ sauce
1 x splash of red wine (if you have it to hand)
Chilies - however much you can handle
1 x pot of sour cream 

1. If you have chosen sweet potatoes, clean and bung in a 180° preheated oven for 1 and a half hours. In the meantime: 
2. Finely slice onions, garlic and green pepper.
3. Get a large high-sided pan on the hob with a good lot of oil (medium heat - patience is a virtue). 
4. When hot, chuck in the onions and red pepper - season with salt and pepper.
5. Whilst onions and peppers are going for it, open the meat pack, turn over the meat, throw away the 'nappy' and run a knife through the meat (this breaks it up so that it is easier to cook when thrown in).
6. When onions and peppers have softened slightly, chuck the meat in. Break up and cook until it just turns from pink to brown. Whilst cooking, pour in a dash of red as well as adding the the garlic and chilies. Keep stirring.
7. Season with salt and pepper. 
8. Boil the kettle. Once boiled fill up 3/4 of a cup with the water followed by a beef stock cube. Stir.
9. Once beef has just turned brown, pour stock into mixture along with the baked beans, red beans, Old El Paso sachet, cumin, chopped tomatoes and a squirt of sticky BBQ sauce (don't be shy).
10. Give it a good stir. If too heavy, pour a bit more boiled water in there. 
11. Leave to cook on a low heat for the rest of the time it takes to cook the potatoes, giving it a good stir very now and again. 
12. Once potatoes are ready, take them out, put them on a plate, slice down the middle, add a knob of butter, some grated cheese, a big spoonful of the burrito mix and bit of sour cream on top. Done.
13. Shout for everyone that the food is ready.
14. Check out the smiles on their faces. 

I hope you enjoy...

The Ups & Downs Of Homemade Pies

Unlike most blogs you may read, the author is now going to confess that he is by no means qualified to write this post. This based on the simple fact that I have never successfully cooked a homemade pie from scratch.

This is gutting for me because I love pies. Pukka Pies, Pieminister, Melton Mowbray, you name it, I've tried it. But trust me when I tell you this: Mary Berry would corpse if she saw me bake. 

The monstrosity that you have been exposed to above is the result of my last baking-related expedition. The dark brown one was supposed to be steak and Guinness pie, and the light brown / beige mixture in the foreground should have been a spiced chorizo and chicken pie. Talk about when the all time plan backfires on you...

It all started in the pub - where most bad ideas are born - on a cold early-autumn Saturday. My mate and I decided that we would comfort ourselves by freestyling two pies from scratch. Now with the wisdom of hindsight; the mixture of copious amounts of ale and two renegades in the kitchen did not set up the ideal platform for a culinary masterclass!

From the pub we moved onto Tesco to collect the food and to be honest it all went downhill from there. Too much meat, not enough cooking equipment, and most critically - not enough puff pastry. We ended up making two pies with one roll of pastry, which turned out to be a terrible idea.

With the contents of the two pies in their respective vessels, we then tore the pastry in half, rolled them to size and then stretched them over and down the sides of the dishes. At this point we were brimming with confidence, still unaware that what we were doing was destined for disaster. 

So to cut a long story short, the pies were not that great. Certainly not something to write about... The lack of pastry was a real deal-breaker, which reminded me of the very old and very hard water biscuits that only come out at Christmas.

Having said all of this, great times were had in the process and this far out-weighed the gutting feeling we both had when we opened the oven to reveal the victims inside. 

The next day I was kindly invited to lunch at another friend's house. Take a guess what was on menu... 

Chicken and mushroom pie. Now at this point I had a minor feeling of terror, but then I realised that it was a Sunday, they would be sober, and more importantly they were girls. Scientific research and my personal experiences combined suggests that sober girls are much better at making pies than pissed blokes. Look...

The thing is that they prepared the mixture well before the application of the pastry. There is no room for greed in this kitchen, they also had patience in abundance. They even had a ceramic bird in the middle. 

The end result was DELICIOUS. The pastry was a perfect golden brown, so light and crispy that it literally fell apart with the slightest touch. If you can imagine what it tastes like through the pictures, double it and then it will be there or there abouts. 

The girls have kindly let me share the recipe with the readers. Even if only one person gives it a go, then this would have been more than worth it.

So two pretty contrasting experiences! But that's what it's all about right? To cook, to share, to laugh at misfortunes and to revel in success? You're goddam right it is. Thanks to all involved...

Bubble & Hana's 'Just Roll with it Mother Clucker':

Ingredients

450ml chicken stock

3 chicken breasts, skinned or chopped chicken fillets

75g butter

2 leeks, trimmed and cut

2 garlic cloves, crushed

50g plain flour

200ml milk

2-3 tbsp white wine

150ml double cream

Sea salt flakes and freshly ground black pepper

1. Preheat the oven to 200C/400F/Gas 6.
2. Heat chicky stock in lidded saucepan
3. Add chicken and simmer – cover and cook for 10 minutes
4. Set chicken aside on a plate and keep the chicken stock
5. Melt 25g of the butter in saucepan over low heat
6. Stir in leeks and fry until soft (stirring occasionally)
7. Add garlic – cook for 1 minute
8. Add remaining butter and stir in flour when the butter has melted
9. Cook for 30 seconds – keep stirring
10. Add milk, little by little, whilst you keep stirring
11. Then add 250ml of the chicken stock you kept from before, and the wine – keep stirring until smooth – then bring to a gentle simmer – and cook for 3 minutes.
12. Season to taste
13. Remove from heat and stir in cream – set aside in your pie dish and cover with cling film to stop a skin forming (gross!) – let it cool. (If you want to add peas it’s a nice addition)
14. Roll out your Just Roll, easy peasy.
15. Put on top of your cooled pie mixture (you may need help with this)
16. If you don’t have a ‘Pie-Bird’ make a small hole in the centre of the pie with a knife
17. Cook for 35-40 minutes or until the pie is lovely and golden on the top and the filling is piping hot
18. Enjoy your Pie – best served with mash

The Joint

A shout must go out to my fellow housemates on this one. Not only because they shared this experience with me for the first time, but also because they are advocates of London's Brixton Village and all the taste sensations that it has to offer. 

Our only problem is that when we are there, we see a menu, then look up to one another and instantly proclaim that to taste just one starter and main course each is simply not enough. Nothing changed on this particular occasion...

                         

The Joint is set in the at the heart of Brixton Village, squashed in-between a cafe and a seafood restaurant. This is the nature of Brixton Village; a universal maze of food education and temptation. It's impossible to walk through it with the aim of going somewhere specific without someone stopping and asking, 'Shall we go here?' or, 'guys, seriously, apparently this place is the tits'. 

When we finally made it through to The Joint, the waiter cleared a space for us and invited us to sit down at one of the tables which consisted of a blackened plank of wood suspended on some up-ended food crates, surrounded by a scatter of wooden stools. It was all we needed. What lay ahead of us would put to shame any establishment that boasted white table clothes and gold gilded seats. There is no other option but to sit and eat outside with the rest of them. After all, the whole restaurant is the kitchen. 

Whilst we read through the menu and performed our usual routine of dribbling all over the menu, we decided that the only remedy would be to pair off. It was the only responsible thing to do at the time - all things considered! 

Now there is only about 5 things on the whole menu, ALL of which are well worth a try, so myself and my partner for the session decided to have all of it. 

The time between ordering and service was exceptionally quick considering the amount of people they were serving, and when it arrived we were blown away. 

The waiter dumped three paper bags - each tied up with a string - on the table for us to ponder over until one of us went in for the kill. The three bags were torn open to reveal onion rings in one, spicy chicken wings in another, and finally 'Riblets' in the other. The onions rings - as expected - were deep fried, light, crispy and absolutely enormous. The chicken wings were covered in red goodness and chopped chilies, seriously spicy but not so serious that you couldn't suck each one right off the bone. The 'Riblets' were my personal favorite - unbelievably tender mini BBQ ribs smothered in a rich sticky sauce which predictably ended up all over hands, face and drinking vessel. A perfect way to start.  

Then came the main event... One BBQ pulled-pork bun and one Asian pulled pork bun... (to share)

The amount of bread was initially daunting based on previous experiences of under-loaded wraps and burgers, but the bread itself was as light as candy floss. The coleslaw was crunchy and refreshing, which was a perfect coolant for the spicy Asian sauce. And the pulled pork was clearly cooked with a lot of love and patience. 

The joy of the BBQ pulled pork bun came as no surprise as it contained the same sauce as the 'Riblets', however the Asian sauce was like something I have never tried before. Tangy, spicy  sweet and BLOODY HOT. I honestly couldn't have picked a winner. They were both a home-run. 

The great thing about this place - as with many other restaurants in Brixton Village - is the sheer passion for food that is clearly illustrated in every dish that is laid out in front of you. Perfectly demonstrated here with the home-baked vanilla and sourdough buns. DELICIOUS and NOT FOR SALE. 

After we ate, we asked if we could buy the buns independently, he answered rather abruptly with, 'No, sorry, only for the restaurant I'm afraid'. 

Fair enough, good on you. I'll be back.