Blueberry Muffins

Blueberry Muffins

It's more years ago than I care to remember.  It's my first visit to the USA, it's Labor Day and we're driving south from Boston.  Cape Cod beckons but it's getting late and we decide to stay overnight in Hyannis Port.  The bustle of the City is well and truly left behind.  The hotel corridor is bare breeze block.  An ice machine fills the space with a persistent hum, its contents in high demand we were to discover as crashing cubes of ice hitting plastic buckets punctuated our sleep into the early hours.  Dinner at 10pm?  Forget it. A bottle of soda from the vending machine on the 'High Street' is all the sustenance we can find tonight. We go to bed hungry.  Next day we're lurching, the way American cars do, or did, along empty roads under a perfect blue sky, breakfastless.  Then we pull into Chatham - all white clapboard and grey shingle and picture postcard pretty.  We smell the bakery before we see it and declare it good, though frankly we'd eat anything by this point.  There are real muffins and pound cakes, made with butter rather than ? And they taste so good.  

Blueberry Muffin

Now that the English blueberry harvesting season is gathering pace and the price is finally coming down, it's blueberry muffin time.  I yield to no one in my love of a good blueberry muffin but it took me some time to find a great blueberry muffin.  I can't claim this recipe as my own as the only hand I had in it was to convert it from US measures but I've made it many times, tweaked it every now and then, so I know it works.  It may only be a muffin but, like many foods, it evokes memories.

Blueberry Muffins (makes 12)

200g caster sugar

115g butter (at room temperature)

2 medium eggs

250g plain flour

1 level teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon bicarbonate soda

¼ teaspoon salt

115ml soured cream

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 tablespoon milk

Grated rind of half a lemon

200g blueberries

Crumble Topping

50g plain flour

25g cold butter

25g soft brown sugar

Pre-heat oven to 190OC/375OF/gas 5. Butter a 12 cup deep muffin tin - I like to line the cups with greaseproof paper squares too.  

Make the crumble topping by rubbing the butter into the flour and mixing in the sugar then place in the fridge while you mix the muffins.

Cream butter and sugar well. Beat in eggs gradually. In a separate bowl, combine dry ingredients and fold into wet mixture alternately with the soured cream. Add vanilla extract, milk and lemon rind and blend lightly until smooth. Gently fold in blueberries. Fill tins almost to the top.  Add a spoonful of crumble topping then bake the muffins for 20 minutes.  

Allow to cool for 5 minutes before lifting them out of the tin.  

Lemon Cake

Lemon Cake sliced

We all need no-nonsense cake recipes.  The sponge cake recipe that always rises to the top of the tin; the perfectly-spiced Carrot Cake; the most chocolatey Brownie and flourless chocolate cake; the retro Upside-Down Cake; the please-don't-be-dry fruit cake; and, these days, the failsafe Gluten-free Cake (thank you Moro the Cookbook) - essentials all.  I would add to that list a luscious Lemon Cake.  In fact I'd put it at the top of my list of go-to recipes, but then I'm a sucker for citrus.

Helena Attlee in her book The Land Where Lemons Grow tells us that Sicilian growers "call their beautifully cultivated lemon groves Giardini or even Paradisi".  As a grower - sadly not of citrus - this appeals to my bucolic senses.  Dipping into her book, which covers all types of citrus grown in the areas of Italy where cultivation is suitable, has just made me check my stash of marmalade now the season is coming to an end.  Helena reminds us that only the British are somewhat fundamentalist about what goes into marmalade, demanding Spanish Seville oranges when there are plenty of other bitter citrus fruits that do just as well, if not better.  This year my own favourite marmalade contains bitter orange, mandarin and lemon, but Seville Marmalade has a place on my shelves too.

Sicilian Lemons

I've hardly scratched the surface of Catherine Phipps's book Citrus: Recipes that celebrate the sweet and the sour but enough to be awakened to how much I take lemons for granted - the dressings and syrups; the curds and lemonades; the sorbets and marinades; the puddings and preserves; the stuffed chickens and braised chicories.  Enough to identify with the truth that "If a dish seems muddy or flat, with indistinct flavours that are not quite gelling, the chances are a squeeze of lemon will sort it out." Rachel Roddy in Five Quarters puts it most succinctly, I think.  Lemons "lift, cut, sharpen, encourage and brighten"  And she has a star recipe for Ciambellone di Ricotta e Limone (Ricotta and lemon ring cake), which vies for my attention with Carla Tomasi's recipe for Cassola (Lemon Cheesecake).

Which brings us back to cake.  I picked up the original of this Lemon Cake recipe when visiting the USA around two decades ago.  It's been tweaked and turned on its head many times since - I remember originally it contained poppy seeds and sometimes it still does.  Like so many recipes I make again and again I thought it wasn't special enough to merit a posting.  But if I've learned anything, it's that those are the recipes that we should be sharing.  I value this recipe as I value those lemons.

So here is what I think I can now call my Lemon Cake recipe.  Even after all this time I feel another tweak coming on.  Searching my bookshelves for a Jane Grigson quote on 'lemons' I noticed a reference to lemon syrup to be poured over a pound cake with a suggestion to add a "measure or two of gin"!  Maybe next time I will.  This one is just made for a cup of tea.

Lemon Cake

Lemon Cake
(21 x 11 cm loaf tin)

100ml milk
100g soft butter
175g caster sugar
2 medium eggs
175g plain flour
1½ teaspoon baking powder
Grated zest of 2 lemons
¼ teaspoon salt

Lemon Syrup:
60g granulated sugar
60ml lemon juice

Preheat oven to 180°C (160°C Fan)/Gas 4.  
Lightly butter and flour the loaf tin.
Cream butter and sugar well.
Add the eggs, little by little, beating well.
Combine the flour, baking powder, salt and lemon zest.
Add the dried ingredients to the creamed mixture in three portions, alternating with the milk, mixing each in briefly just until smooth.  
Pour into the prepared loaf tin, making a slight indent down the centre so the cake doesn't rise too unevenly.  
Bake until golden brown and a skewer comes out clean - 55-60 minutes.  Remove from the oven.
Gently heat the lemon juice and sugar for the syrup until the sugar has dissolved.  
Pierce the loaf with a skewer around 12 times and pour the hot syrup over the cake in the loaf tin.  
Allow the cake to cool for 30 minutes before turning out onto a cooling rack.  Cool completely, wrap in cling film and leave at room temperature overnight.  Keeps well for 3-4 days.

If you would like to add poppy seeds, add 3 tablespoons to the milk and allow to soak for 1 hour before making the cake as above.

LINKS YOU MIGHT LIKE:

Sweetmeat Cake

Spiced courgette and lemon cake

Courgette Soup

Cucumber Salad

Rosie's Blackcurrant and lemon posset 

Tarta de Santiago

Warm plum and citrus compote

Sweetmeat Cake

Candied Citrus Peels

Following a winter of gorging on particularly good citrus, there's a stash of candied citrus peel in the fridge. Maybe I'm a bit mean but I do like to get my money's worth out of citrus fruits.  It's a frugal point I've made before - Candied citrus  - but home-made is far better than anything you can get in a supermarket and way cheaper than the, admittedly, good stuff from up-market stores.  Having urged you to make it, I notice I've been less than helpful on how to use these carefully preserved peels.  Time to remedy that.

We're talking lemon, orange, grapefruit and cedro, sweet and bitter flavours essential to much of our cooking when you stop to think about it.  Chopped peel has to be in the mix for many British fruit cakes like Christmas Cake, and Easter Simnel Cake.  Ditto Tea Cakes, Fruit Tea Loaf, Hot Cross Buns, Yorkshire Fat Rascals, Cornish Saffron Cake and Wiltshire Lardy Cake (although some would disagree). Christmas Sweet Mincemeat too benefits from the tang of bitter that preserved peel brings to the party.  It goes into Italian Christmas Panettone, Colomba di Pasqua, Panforte and Pangiallo.  Chopped candied peel is fantastic in a Cassata ice cream or scattered along with some raisins in a Bread and Butter Pudding.  A little added to a Brioche mix or a Steamed Sponge Pudding works well too.  You can elevate a simple Pound Cake by either folding candied citrus, chopped, into the batter or decorating the top when cooked with thin slices.  I'm sure you can think of more now we've got going.

Here's another idea for which, as so often, I'm indebted to Jane Grigson and her book English Food.  'Sweetmeat Cake' is an 18th century open tart.  There is also a version of it as 'Sweet-meat Pudding' in Hannah Glasse's The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy (1747).  I always approach these old recipes with caution.  Tastes change.  In this case the recipe was very simple and the ingredients list rang no alarm bells.  What caught my attention was that rather than candied peel providing just a background note, here it has the starring role.  There's a 19th century version of this recipe, known as 'Duke of Cambridge Pudding' which dispenses with the hazelnuts (optional in the earlier recipe) altogether and calls for 4 egg yolks (no whole eggs).  Grigson implies she prefers the Sweetmeat Cake recipe and declares it her favourite of the 18th century open tarts.  For her its butterscotch flavour and semi-transparent filling has a "much superior flavour" to the later 'Treacle Tart'.  I get what she means, there is an almost jellied quality to the cooked filling, and a slice of this is lot lighter and less sweet than a portion of treacle tart.

Sweetmeat Cake

Personally, I'd include the hazelnuts because I am a fan of frangipane.  For this tart I made a sweet shortcrust and, because I have a horror or undercooked pastry, I baked it blind before adding the filling (the original recipe does not).  I've given my pastry recipe here but Jane Grigson's recipe states simply "Puff or shortcrust pastry". I've changed her wording in the method a little to allow for giving you my pastry recipe.  I've also slightly reduced the amounts of candied peel, sugar and butter in the filling from the first time I made this.  Otherwise, it is just as she instructs.

Sweetmeat Cake slice

Sweetmeat Cake
(makes a 23cm shallow tart)

PASTRY (this will make twice as much as you need, so freeze half the pastry for later):
250g (10oz) plain flour
25g (1oz) ground almonds
Pinch of salt
150g(6oz) butter
75g (3oz) icing sugar
Grated rind of half a lemon
1 egg yolk
3 tablespoons milk

FILLING:
100g (4 oz) chopped candied peel
50g (2 oz) chopped roasted hazelnuts (optional)
2 large eggs
2 large egg yolks
150g (6oz) caster sugar
150g (6 oz) lightly salted butter, melted (gently)

Sift the flour into a mixing bowl and add the ground almonds and salt.  Add the butter and rub in with fingertips.  Sift in icing sugar and add grated lemon rind and mix.  Lightly beat the egg yolk and milk together and stir into the dry ingredients.  Mix until the dough just comes together then turn out and knead gently to smooth the surface.  Divide into two and freeze one for later.  Cover the other half and rest in fridge for just 30 minutes.

Pre-heat the oven to 200C (fan 180C)/Gas 5.
Roll the pastry thinly and line a greased 23cm shallow flan tin with it.  Prick the base several times and rest in the fridge for 15 minutes.  
Line with greaseproof paper and baking beans and bake the tart base for 10 minutes.  Remove the paper and beans and return to the oven for 5 minutes.
Reduce the oven to 180C (fan 160C)/Gas 4.
Scatter first the chopped peel over the tart base and then the chopped hazelnuts.
Beat the remaining ingredients together thoroughly then pour into the tart case.
Bake for 35-40 minutes, checking it after 30 minutes.  The top should be crusted with a rich golden brown all over.  Expect the mixture to rise above the pastry then sink back down a little after its removed from the oven.  The top will crack on cooling, a bit like a brownie mixture does.  Do not worry if the centre part of the filling is a little liquid beneath the crust as it makes a delicious sauce.  The consistency is a matter for individual taste.

Best eaten warm (though it does keep a day), with or without cream.  A very good use for some of your winter stash of candied citrus.  What do you mean, you don't have a stash - Candied citrus

Spiced apple and hazelnut upside-down cake

The Orchard at the end of October

When we first took our allotment the orchard always felt like it was off-limits.  There were the bees, of course.  Seven hives of industry standing sentinel-like, strategically located at the northern end of the old orchard.  Through spring, summer and autumn activity is intense, a constant stream of one-track-mind bees roaming the allotments.  Dispersed, we welcome them, waggling from raspberry to gooseberry blossom, borage to squash flower.  Where they come together, in the vicinity of the hives, we growers keep a respectful distance most of the year.  Undoubtedly they are the most effective guardians of the orchard.  But there was also the Committee.  The first year we took on our allotment nobody mentioned the orchard.  In the second year we were invited to gather up a few windfall apples.  It was five years before we were invited to pick some plums and pluck a few apples direct from the trees.  Finally, it seemed, we were accepted.

One gnarled old apple tree hugs a hive, its weighted boughs bob invitingly in the breeze.  All through late summer we eye the tree, longing for the bees to calm down.  By the time the traffic to and from the hive slows to a lazy trickle, everyone else has filled their store and lost interest in the tree.  All except me.  Because this is the best variety in the orchard and this year the crop is spectacularly good - thank you bees.  Finally, right at the end of October, the bee activity began to slow down and we dared to approach the tree.  It was worth the wait.  Not that anyone knows what kind of apple it is.  Three varieties of plum and five apple of unknown variety in the orchard.  Each year there is a plan to find out what they are.  Each year this doesn't happen.  One day I will take on the task.

Late pickings in the Orchard

Apple trees thrive in wet and windy Britain.  The cultivation of over 2,000 dessert, cooker and 'inbetweener', in addition to several hundred cider apples is testament to our love for them.  Late July/early August sees the first apple harvests with Discovery, Gladstone, Laxton's Early Crimson, Beauty of Bath and Grenadier arriving at market.  Late summer brings Egremont Russet, James Grieve, Scarlet Permain and, in late September, a favourite of mine, the tiny but exquisite Oaken Pin.  Blenheim Orange, Falstaff,  Howgate Wonder and the cooking apple Bramley follow on through October, with Braeburn, Sturmer Pippin, Boiken and the cider apples like Herefordshire Redstreak bringing the season to an end by mid- to late November.

Spiced Apple and hazelnut upsidedown cake

I love an apple pie or crumble as much as the next person, but a good dessert apple cake recipe has eluded me up to now.  Having such a good crop this year, I've been able to experiment a bit and at last I have a recipe I will make again and again.  I knew I wanted a kind of apple upside-down cake, so I borrowed the creamed butter, muscovado sugar and honey mix from a Nigel Slater Honey Pear Cake recipe which I cut out of the Observer magazine a couple of years ago.  I wanted hazelnuts for flavour and for the oil they contain to keep the cake moist.  Personally if I'm buying nuts shelled I prefer skin-on.  I dry roast them in a frying pan until the skins loosen enough to, mostly, rub off.   I also wanted spice, particularly at this time of year, and went for plenty of cinnamon, a little vanilla and nutmeg.  I hope you like it too.

A helping of Spiced apple and hazelnut upside-down cake

Spiced apple and hazelnut Upside-down cake

(for an 18-20cm round cake tin)

50g (2oz) softened unsalted butter

65g (2½oz) muscovado sugar

1 tbsp mild honey
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
About 450g (16oz) eating apples

115g (4oz) softened unsalted butter

115g (4oz) raw cane caster sugar

A few drops of vanilla extract
A little grated nutmeg (about a quarter of a whole one)

2 large eggs, lightly mixed

65g (2½oz) plain soft flour
50g (2oz) hazelnuts, dry roasted and ground medium fine

1 tsp baking powder
Pinch of salt

1 tbsp milk

Heat oven to 180^oC/160^oC fan/Gas 4.

Lightly butter your cake tin.
Cream together 50g butter, 65g sugar and 1 tbsp honey and mix in the cinnamon.   

Spread evenly over the base of the cake tin.  

Peel (or not if you prefer), core and slice the apples fairly thinly.  Arrange in a closely overlapping spiral on top of the mixture.

Sieve together the flour, baking powder and salt.  Stir in the ground hazelnuts and nutmeg.  

In a separate bowl, mix very well 115g butter with the 115g raw cane sugar until soft and fluffy.  Add the vanilla extract and gradually beat in the eggs, adding a little of your dry mixture if it looks like it might curdle.  Fold the dry mixture in gently, incorporating the tablespoon of milk at the end.  Smooth the mixture over the top of the apples.

Bake for about 45 minutes.  Rest for 15 minutes.  Place a plate on top of the tin, hold securely and turn over to release the cake upside-down.  Give the plate and tin a jiggle if it doesn't turn out straight away.

Best served warm, with our without cream but the cake does keep well for 2-3 days.

Spiced Courgette & Lemon Cake

Courgette plant Striato di Napoli

It's peak time for courgettes on my allotment. In order to keep everyone around the dining table interested it's necessary to pull out all the recipes I have and then look for more.  I've worked my way through risottos of diced courgette finished with their shredded flowers; fritters of grated courgette topped with a fried egg; dishes of Scapece with its vinegar and mint dressing; and courgette and onion tarts.  Courgettes make a surprisingly creamy soup; a light supper when sautéed and coloured with saffron (thank you Fern Verrow - a year of recipes from a farm and its kitchen); and their flowers, dipped in tempura batter, are delicious fried (more substantial if stuffed with soft cheese and herbs beforehand).  This year, we've had countless plates of Linguine con zucchine from Rachel Roddy's Five Quarters - Recipes and Notes from a Kitchen in Rome.  This summer my diners have never tired of that dish. We all need a recipe like that.

I vow not to let courgettes grow so large they effectively turn into marrows - the idea of stuffed marrow makes me shudder.  But when I'm bringing home armfuls of courgettes, they can find their way into cake.  I picked up a basic  recipe in the USA at least a decade ago.  Every summer since, out it comes to be tweaked a little according to what I have in the store cupboard. This year, in response to a request for the recipe, I've decided to share a version just in case you, too, are buckling under the weight of summer squashes.  It's worth mentioning that I've also successfully made this cake with crookneck squash.  If your courgettes are very watery, salt them after grating, leave them to sit for half an hour and then squeeze out the excess juice.  This recipe makes a pretty large cake but it does, quite easily, scale down to a 2-egg cake.

Spiced Courgette & Lemon Cake

Spiced Courgette & Lemon Cake
(makes a large cake 23cm x 13cm)

2 medium courgettes (about 450g/16oz), grated
180ml (6fl oz) groundnut oil
300g (10oz) caster sugar
3 eggs, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
250g (9oz) soft plain flour
1½ teaspoons bicarbonate of soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 teaspoons of ground allspice (or a mixture of cinnamon, nutmeg and a little clove)
a pinch of salt
Zest of 1 lemon
115g (4oz) raisins or sultanas

SYRUP:
60ml (2fl oz) lemon juice
60g (2 oz) granulated sugar

Pre-heat oven to 180C(fan 160C)/350F/Gas 4
Grease the loaf tin and line with greaseproof paper on the bottom and long sides to help with lifting out the baked cake.
Combine the oil and sugar and mix well until creamy.  Gradually beat in the eggs, mixing well between each addition.  Mix in the grated courgette and the vanilla extract.
In a separate bowl combine the flour, bicarbonate of soda, baking powder, spices, salt, lemon zest and raisins.  Stir into the creamed mixture until it is just amalgamated.  You should have a fairly loose batter.  Pour into the loaf pan and bake in the centre of the oven for about 65 minutes or until golden brown and a skewer comes out clean.  Remove from the oven and leave to stand for 5 minutes.
Gently heat the lemon juice and sugar until the sugar dissolves.
Pierce the loaf several times with a skewer. Spoon the hot syrup over the cake, covering all of the top.  Cool for 30 minutes before lifting out the cake with the help of the paper.

The cake tastes much better if you cool it completely, peel off the paper, and wrap it in fresh greaseproof paper or non-PVC food wrap  and leave overnight.  Keeps well for several days and actually becomes stickier and even better, I think.

More of my courgette recipes:
Scapece
Courgette Soup
Courgette, lemon & thyme linguine

Chocolate Brownies

Double Chocolate Brownie 1

I never thought I would post a recipe for chocolate brownies.  There are a million-and-one takes on the brownie out there but not one has lived up to my expectations.  There are the tooth-jangling over-sweet versions, the much too 'cakey' ones, the brownie that's really a chocolate and the 'let's throw everything in' options.  Finding a recipe that suits everyone is a challenge.  The kids don't like the chocolate too bitter; the adults don't want it too milk; others can't abide nuts.  I give up.  At least for a while.  Then inevitably someone utters those dread words "can we have brownies", and I'm back on the quest for a good recipe.

Double Chocolate Brownie 2

I reach for my cuttings file - am I the only person who still does this in the age of the internet?  Biscuits to Vegetables by way of Eggs, Game and Preserves, scraps of paper carefully filed away in case they should disappear into the ether of the on-line world, or a fat finger should find the delete button.  There it was, an, as yet, untried recipe filed under 'Puddings, incl cakes' (such is my patent filing system).  OK, I didn't have all the ingredients - the wrong chocolate and nowhere near enough walnuts - so a bit of artistic licence would be coming in to play.  But look where sticking rigidly to recipes had got me up to now.

Double Chocolate Brownie 3

So thank you Tom Kitchin for the sound recipe, and excuse my tweaking it out of necessity.  By using two-thirds dark chocolate (70% cocoa solids) and one-third milk (34% cocoa solids), hardly any walnuts and going easy on the vanilla, I produced a brownie everyone liked - even me.  Finally, I've got my recipe.  Just need to make sure I file that scrap of paper.

Double Chocolate Brownie (adapted from Kitchin Suppers by Tom Kitchen)
(makes 15 pieces)

200g unsalted butter, diced
200g dark chocolate (70% cocoa solids), chopped
100g milk chocolate (34% cocoa solids), chopped
90g plain flour
A pinch of sea salt
1½ teaspoons baking powder
3 medium eggs
250g soft dark brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
50g walnuts, chopped

Pre-heat the oven to 170C (Fan 150C)/Gas 3.  Line a 30 x 20cm x 4cm baking tin with baking parchment.  
Put the butter, 150g dark and 50g milk chocolate in a heatproof bowl and place of a pan of simmering water until melted.  Stir until smooth then remove the bowl from the pan and allow to cool a little.
Sift the flour, salt and baking powder together into another bowl and set aside.
In a third large bowl, whisk the eggs, sugar and vanilla extract until slightly thickened. Fold in the melted chocolate/butter mixture then gently fold in the sifted flour followed by the remaining chopped 50g dark and 50g milk chocolate and the chopped walnuts.
Transfer the mixture to the prepared baking tin, gently spreading it into the corners. Bake for 20-25 minutes.  The top should be nicely crusted but the brownie still soft in the middle.  Remove from the oven and cool for 10 minutes.  Carefully lift the cake out of the tin and allow to cool on a wire rack before cutting into 15 squares.

Bristol fashion

Ox cheek ragu with ricotta & sorrel dumplings
at Bell's Diner, Bristol

It had been a while, but the first Bristol Food Connections 11-day festival this month was the perfect excuse to pay another visit.  The format appealed because it necessitated visiting different areas of the city instead of the usual crowded events around the quayside.  It was a day-trip which meant we couldn't stay for any of the organised evening events; not even a tempting Cheese School event at Hart's Bakery.  With names like Joe Schneider of Stichelton Dairy; Tom Calver of Westcombe Dairy; Charlie Westhead of Neal's Yard Creamery; and Todd Trethowan of Trethowan's Dairy plus The Wild Beer Company and Raef Hodgson of 40 Maltby Street/Gergovie Wines, it was not an easy prospect to pass up.  But let's start where we did, with breakfast at Hart's Bakery.

Hart's Bakery, Bristol

Tucked under the arches of the approach to Temple Meads railway station, its location couldn't be handier for a train traveller.  Two minutes off the London to Bristol service we were nursing cortados made with locally roasted Extract Coffee and tucking into toasted spiced, fruity, Festival Loaf with muscovado butter; light, moist, lemon cake and apple crumble slice.  With the bakery occupying the far end of the arch space, there's the irresistible aroma of baking breads and croissants, cakes and tarts, pasties and sausage rolls to lure the hungry traveller.  The front space is taken up by a shop counter and cafe.  The feel is more like being invited into someone's kitchen than a commercial space and it's all the better for it.  Good coffee, great food, lovely service, a welcoming atmosphere and you get to take home a damn fine loaf of bread.  I know for sure that next time I visit Bristol, not breakfasting at Laura Hart's Bakery is unthinkable.  

Bristol is a city made for walking.  Gorgeous Georgian architecture, green squares, candy-coloured terraced house overlooking a revitalised harbour side, and thankfully there are plenty of good independent coffee shops and restaurants in between.  I was never going to stick to my usual 2 cups of coffee  a day in this city so we stopped off at Full Court Press (FCP), supplied, amongst others, by Clifton Coffee Roasters (already familiar thanks to its recent weekend guest appearance at Kaffeine).  The skilled and knowledgeable barista was happy to share local knowledge as well as good coffee.  We found FCP was just around the corner from Small Street Espresso which was also on our hit list so, sadly, had to give that a miss - next time for sure as this is the place that kick-started speciality coffee in Bristol.  Later we made it to Didn't You Do Well on Park Row which hadn't been on our list but came up in conversation on the day.  It proved to be a good recommendation - HasBean coffee, shots pulled on a Slayer Seattle-made machine in a beautiful, calm, pared-back room.

Didn't You Do Well
Bristol

So where to lunch?  There were lots of recommendations so the final choice was made on proximity to where we found ourselves at the right time.  Bell's Diner, in the Montpelier district, won out. We checked with locals several times en-route to make sure we were going in the right direction and every single person said "Oh, Bell's Diner, it's great", and it was.  At lunch it's that, lately much-derided, 'small dishes' kind of place and it's a formula I like.  A dish of fresh peas in their pods came with slices of Manchego; Imam Bayildi was tender, smokey and silky; succulent, sweet scallops on cauliflower puree were topped with earthy morels and brown butter; and ox-cheek ragu was suitably melting beneath a trio of featherlight ricotta and sorrel dumplings.  I can't comment on the puddings as we didn't get that far but Prosecco was on tap and a house Molino red was an easy-drinking bargain.

Scallops with morels & cauliflower puree
Bell's Diner, Bristol

There were so many more places on our list.  Apart from Small Street Espresso there's The Lido; Flinty Red; Wallfish Bistro; The Rummer; Edna's Kitchen.  I'm also very keen to get back to Bristol soon to eat at newly-opened BIRCH in Southville for simple, locally sourced and home-grown food. OK, I admit I know owners Sam and Beccy, but believe me you too need to go.

My go-to person for Bristol food recommendations is local food blogger Food With Mustard. She's a mine of information and all round good egg.

Now, if only Hart's Bakery was open beyond 3pm (to fuel the journey home)  Bristol would be getting dangerously near to perfect.