Ossi dei Morti - Bones of the dead

Ossi dei Morti
- Bones of the dead

On 31st October much of the Christian Western world marks All Hallows' Eve or Hallowe-en, or All Saints' Eve, a festival with arguably pagan or Christian origins.  In Italy, most will wait for All Saints' (or Souls) Day itself and celebrate Tutti Morti, or  Day of the Dead on 2 November.  This is the day for remembering your departed ancestors.

There is no one dish associated with the celebration in Italy.  Each region has its own favourites, but biscuits often play a part.  Ossi dei Morti translates as 'bones of the dead' and they're one of the many types baked at this time.  I've been making these little morsels for years since coming across the recipe in Chez Panisse Desserts by Lindsey Remolif Shere.  They're meant to resemble bleached, brittle, bones and their macabre name is part of the appeal.

Dead man's bones

I've scaled down the original recipe and the quantities I've used here will produce around 40 biscuits.  I've also used a tiny drop of Amaretto liquor instead of almond essence.  Hand-chopping the almonds is worth the effort for that extra crunch, but you can chop them briefly in a processor to save time.

Ossi dei Morti (adapted from Chez Panisse Desserts by Lindsey Remolif Shere)
(makes around 40)

70g almonds (skin on)
225g caster sugar
½ level teaspoon baking powder
Small pinch of salt
1 scant teaspoon lemon juice
1 large egg
A few drops of Amaretto liquor or almond essence
100g plain soft flour

Pre-heat the oven to 180C/160C fan oven/Gas 4.  Place the unskinned almonds on a baking tray and roast lightly for 5 minutes before chopping roughly.
Turn the oven down to 150C/130C fan oven/Gas 2.  Line 2-3 baking trays with parchment.
Mix the sugar, baking powder, salt and lemon juice.  Add the eggs and Amaretto or almond essence and beat well until the mixture takes on a spongy look.  Mix in the flour and chopped almonds.
Turn out on a lightly floured surface and roll the dough with your hands into ropes about 1 cm thick.  Cut into 3-4cm lengths.  Place on the baking trays 6cm apart and bake for 15-20 minutes until very lightly coloured.  
They'll keep for a week in an airtight container.

Happy haunting!

Mons Cheesemongers - Rating the Reblochon

Reblochon tasting
at Mons Cheesemongers

I've got to say from the outset that I'm a committed British cheese eater.  I've not only watched the re-birth of our artisan cheese industry with interest but actively participated in its revival to the point where I'm pretty sure I've sampled each and every type of British cheese at some point.  Yes, I am a cheese nerd.

I came late to Swiss cheeses - Gruyere was something you added to an omelette if you wanted to get fancy in our house, not a cheese to savour in its own right.  I now know better and, thanks to Rachael Sills of Käseswiss, that there is very much more to Swiss cheese than Gruyere.

When it comes to French cheeses though, I head to Mons Cheesemongers and  I'm not alone.  If you eat out anywhere in the the capital, and beyond, where they source with care, some of their cheeses almost certainly come from Mons.  Founded in France by Hubert Mons, the business is a family affair now involving the patriarch's children and grandchildren.  Cheeses are matured at their cellars at St Haon le Chatel in the Rhône-Alpes.  The British arm of the business was formed in 2006 and sells French and Swiss cheeses directly to shops and restaurants around the UK and also has a stall at Borough Market.  On Saturdays, the shutters at their Bermondsey base are flung open to reveal a spread which, according to the season, may include creamy Perail, ash-dusted Fromage Cathare, vine-wrapped Mistralou or erupting Vacherin Mont d'Or.

An invitation to learn about and select the best Reblochon cheese was too good for any self-respecting cheese nerd to turn down.  The prospect of spending 2-3 hours on a Friday night in a south London railway arch was, I was sure, not going to appeal to many people.  How wrong could I be.  At least 50 cheese- makers, mongers, buyers and enthusiasts are grouped over cheese slates, each bearing 6 quarters of Haute-Savoie potential heaven.  Full cream, unpasteurised cows milk and a little alchemy produces a 10-12cm discus of semi-soft cheese with a fat content of 45%.  Don't be afraid - saturated fat is not the enemy.  As in all things, moderation is the key although tonight is an exception.  It's not often you get the chance to compare and contrast on this scale.  Add to that a welcoming glass of white poured from a magnum by Guillaume Aubert.  Then, with the cheeses a couple of biodynamic wines courtesy of Cipriano Barsanti from 60 year old Tuscan vineyard Macea, stocked in the UK by Aubert and Mascoli.  This biodynamic vineyard practices minimal intervention and produces fewer than 1,000 bottles of each of its two outstanding wines in which they are "always looking for personality and a sense of place".  I like both the sentiment and the wines.

Negotiant and maturer, Jean-Pierre Missilier, ably translated by Jon Thrupp and Jane Hastings of Mons UK, gave us a run-through of the 200 year history of Reblochon.  If, like me, you enjoy the way French cheese names roll deliciously off the tongue without giving too much thought to how they got their name, this will be news to you too.  Reblochon derives from the verb "reblocher", meaning to "squeeze a cow's udder again" and refers to the C13th practice of not fully milking the cow until after the landlord's back was turned.  Mountain farmers, being taxed according to the amount of milk their herds produced, would not fully milk the cows until after the landowner had measured the yield.  The second milking also provided the richest milk and was used to make a creamy cheeses.

First produced in the Thônes and Arly valleys, in the Aravis massif, Reblochon was granted AOC status in 1958 and is subject to strict controls over its production.  The cheese-making process must begin no later than 30 minutes after milking and the finished Reblochon is at its best at around 40 days old.

So, what of the tasting?  Of the six, only one was a red herring, its inclusion serving as an example of all that can go wrong with a cheese - rubbery of texture with a distinctly overly-acidic smell and slightly uric taste.  Two were perfectly good examples of the type, creamy and fruity tasting, their aroma making you long for a dish of Tartiflette.  The other three were more special.  A savoury flavour adding edge to the fruitiness and carrying a hint of the spruce wood to the velvety whey-washed rind.  One was rejected because it wasn't firm enough to stand for long on a cheeseboard  and it's from the remaining two that Mons will choose the Reblochon special  enough to join their list.

A taste of local "Gentiane" digestif brought by Jean-Pierre and we went on our sated way with a determination to look out for that particularly good Mons Reblochon.

Mons Cheesemongers

You can learn more about Reblochon at Culture Cheese Magazine

Return to The Green Man and French Horn

Game Consommé at
The Green Man and French Horn

It's now almost a year since I wrote about The Green Man and French Horn which opened in September 2012.  Since then it's garnered a string of awards so I thought I'd give you a quick update.  First, you might want to read my original piece to save me from repeating myself: The Green Man and French Horn

I've returned a number of times since then and a revisit today convinced me this place has to be offering the best value meal in town right now.  You can still expect to pay around £40-45 a head, and it's still a lovely menu, but it's the amazing value 'Theatre Menu' which makes it stand out.  Between 12.00-19.00 The Green Man and French Horn offers 2 courses for £12.50 or 3 courses for £15.00 with a choice of 3 starters, 3 mains and 2 dishes at dessert.  The menu changes daily but today for instance you could choose from starters of Pork Rillettes, Game Consommé or Beetroot, anchovy & Walnuts; mains of Hake, mussels, capers & tomatoes, Galette Bretonne with Vendee ham, eggs & cheese or Sausage & Puy lentils; Desserts of White chocolate mousse & Muscat grapes or Crêpes with salted butter caramel. 

Hake, mussels, capers & tomatoes at
The Green Man and French Horn

The consommé was gamey yet delicate and pepped up with herbs of parsley and tarragon.  A perfectly cooked fillet of hake was served on a herby broth with mussels and tomatoes and a kick of capers.  The crêpes with salted butter caramel were utterly delicious.  With glasses each of Milliard d'Etoile Domaine de la Garretiére at £6.00 and a 2004 Vouvray Les Morandières Domaine Lemaire-Fournier at  £4.75 the bill was a bargain at just under £60 for two including service.  I know of no better deal in London.

Crêpes with Salted butter caramel at
The Green Man and French Horn

What's more, Ed Wilson is still in the kitchen and Laura is still behind the bar.  This place is every bit as good as it looks.


The Green Man and French Horn
54 St Martin's Lane
London WC2N 4EA
Tel: 020 7836 2645

MARCH 2015 UPDATE: Sadly, now closed -  go around the corner to Terroirs at 5 William IV Street WC2N 4DW

Autumn in Córdoba and a moment in Málaga

Wall painting detail in Alcazar, Cordoba

Could Cordoba possibly live up to my romantic ideal?  A cancelled flight that lost us a whole 24 hours was not an auspicious start, and arriving anywhere just too late for lunch is unacceptably bad planning. Instead of feeding our stomaches, we were forced to feast on the more cerebral glories of this former Roman capital of Hispania Ulterior and, 8 centuries later, Moorish Al Andalus.  The dry 30C heat of Andalucia  was welcome with the prospect of winter in London looming.  We dropped our bags at the welcoming Hospes Palacio del Bailio Hotel and went to explore.

Cuesta del Bailio, Cordoba

Cordoba has beauty around almost every corner.  White-washed or yellow ochre painted houses adorned with tumbling bougainvillaea or heavily-scented jasmine; cool, shaded courtyards; gardens; fountains; narrow winding lanes and the sudden reveal of a church, mosque or synagogue.  Moorish, Christian, Roman and Visigoth sit companionably alongside, and sometimes inside, one another.  Apart from the pleasures of simply wandering, there are a few unmissables.

Mezquita, Cordoba

La Mezquita is astonishing.  Visigoth, Moorish and Christian architecture come together to breathtaking effect. Get there between 08.30 and 09.15 to see it at its atmospheric best.  At 10.00 the tour groups arrive and admission charges come in.

Alcazar Gardens, Cordoba

The Alcazar is an impressive meandering fortress.  There's a surprisingly stark peaceful chapel with some beautiful mosaics and there are wonderful Moorish gardens.

Palace of the Marqueses de Viana

The Palace of the Marqueses de Viana is a 15th century mansion with 12 strongly Moorish-influenced gardens.  Lovingly cared for, it's a great place to escape the traffic.  On the subject of traffic, the car is king here even on the narrowest lanes, so be prepared to duck into doorways at a moment's notice.

The Almodovar Gate area,  Cordoba

La Juderia area is close to La Mezquita.  It's a maze of narrow lanes, but then most of Cordoba is like that.  It can begin to feel quite claustrophobic, especially when you come upon a tour group.  If you want to escape these clusters of folk who cling together like limpets, leave La Juderia at The Almodovar Gate, pass the statue to Seneca, and you'll come upon my favourite place in Cordoba.

Between the Medieval wall that enclosed the Jewish Quarter and a row of modest yet covetable residences you'll find a series of cisterns and runnels lined with Oleander.  It's a haven of peace and tranquility that few tourists seem to find. It's also that rare thing in Cordoba, a street where cars are not allowed.





Nearby stands the Roman Bridge …

Roman Bridge, Cordoba

The Roman Bridge forms part of Via Augusta and dates back to the 1st Century BC.  It's an impressive sight spanning the wide Guadaquivir river alongside a bird sanctuary.

Date palm, Cordoba

What about the food?  This is Spain, it's got to be good, right?  Well, I have to say we didn't fare too well. After some digging, we found a Mercado in Plaza Correderia.  Now, I have a theory that a town's food market is a good indicator of its restaurant scene and we found nothing to excite in either.  The ancient menu posted by the door is not something that attracts me either.  The fact that three restaurants on our short list had closed down would indicate a less than thriving dining out culture.  That said, the Bodegas Campos bar and restaurant at Calle de los Lineros 32, owned by the Campos wine company, is pretty good.

Tapas seems to be more appreciated in Cordoba and there are plenty of tapas bars that have been around for many years.  Casa El Pisto at Plaza San Miguel is a traditional place, popular and reliable.  One interesting development is a gastro market which opened this Spring.  Mercado Victoria is housed in the restored Casteta de Circulo, a wrought-iron pavillion on tree-lined Paseo de la Victoria.  Its focused stalls are working hard to attract a mixed crowd.  Buy a plate of freshly carved Bellota from one stall or some freshly fried fish from another.  Pick up a glass of wine or a beer, find a space to suit you and people-watch while you eat. It's a mixed bag but it's lively and fun already.

On to Malaga...

Market stall, Malaga

Malaga is only 50 minutes by fast train from Cordoba, but a world away.  Its market doesn't disappoint and it's not difficult to find a good restaurant.  We spent only a short time in Malaga on this trip but dinner at Refectorium at Calle Cervantes 8 managed to be old school and delicious (no website but there's a new, sleeker El Refectorium at Paseo de la Sierra 36).  The port area of Malaga has been beautifully revived and the City has it's soaring Cathedral and the simply wonderful Museo Picasso.  I'm sure I'll be back to explore the new Museo Carmen Thyssen and more.

Malagan fruits

It was in Malaga that we finally felt inspired to shop -  Malaga raisins, semi-dried figs and almonds, of course.

Did I leave Cordoba with my romatic ideals intact?  My advice is to visit Cordoba to feed the soul, but Malaga to feed the stomach.

Apples at last - Food Find

Brogdale apples at
Neal's Yard Dairy 2013

The English apple harvest is undoubtedly late this year, certainly a good two weeks behind last year.  My barometer for this is the arrival of the apple crates stacked in front of the Neal's Yard Dairy shops in Borough, Covent Garden and, this year, at Spa Terminus too.  In London we've been enjoying the early 'Discovery' apples from the excellent Chegworth Valley for some weeks now but you know harvest is in full swing when the myriad varieties grown at Brogdale in Kent start to arrive.  This week I packed my bag with 'St Edmund's Pippin' and nutty 'Norfolk Royal Russet'.

Varieties change by the week so it's a great opportunity to try just a few of the apples and pears which Brogdale, home of the UK's National Fruit Collection, grows. If you want to try more, Brogdale's annual Apple Festival runs this year on 19-20 October when they expect to have over 200 varieties ready to taste.

Related blog posts:
Neal's Yard Dairy and Brogdale Farm

Warm Plum & Citrus Compote

Warm Plum & Citrus Compote

Jane Grigson wrote in 1982 of the ubiquity of the Victoria plum.  Since 1840, when a stray seedling was found in Sussex, the Victoria has been grown for its qualities as a good cropper rather than for its flavour. Even today, more than 30 years on from publication of Jane Grigson's Fruit Book, we seem reluctant to acknowledge its inferiority and so we have reached a point where it's difficult to find other varieties of plum. That's not to say Victoria plums can't be made palatable by cooking, but to eat one straight from the tree is invariably disappointing.  Grigson agreed with Edward Bunyard  (Anatomy of Dessert).  He said, of plums intended to be eaten uncooked, that there was little "encased in red, black or blue" worth growing.

Neither Edward Bunyard nor Jane Grigson seem to have rated the dark, dusky Damson plum.  It is a personal favourite of mine, not just for making Damson gin.  In a Damson souffle its sharp, bitter qualities are hard to beat, but a yellow- or green-skinned plum is my first choice for most other plum dishes.  These range from the tiny intensely sweet Mirabelle, its yellow skin blushed with a fingertip of rouge as its season progresses, to the honeyed flesh of the green/gold Greengage.  I've previously written about Greengages so rather than repeat myself, here's a link to that post which includes a recipe for Plum Tart

The recipe below is based on A Warm Compote of Plums with Honey and Orange from The Art of Cooking with Vegetables by Alain Passard.  Unsurprisingly, Passard uses French Reine Claude plums (Greengage) for this dish, as do I.  The citrus fruit pairs surprisingly well with the Greengages.  However, I've found, if the plums are a little on the tart side, then the quantity of lemon needs to be reduced.

I think it's time I planted a Greengage tree.  Perhaps it should be a self-fertile 'Early Transparent Gage', or, better still, the elusive 'Coe's Golden Drop', if I can only find a source.

Warm Plum & Citrus Compote
(Serves 4-6)

1kg (2lb) ripe Greengages or other plums
40g (1½oz) salted butter (or unsalted with a pinch of salt)
2 tbsp caster sugar
2 tbsp runny honey
1medium unwaxed (or well-scrubbed) orange, cut into segments with skin intact
1 small-medium unwaxed (or well-scrubbed) lemon, cut into segments with skin intact

Choose a lidded frying pan large enough to eventually take the plums in a single layer. Gently melt the butter (and salt if using), honey and sugar in the pan, stirring to amalgamate.  Add the orange and lemon slices.  Partially cover with the pan lid and cook gently for 15 minutes. Wash the plums and add them whole to the pan in a single layer. Partially cover again and cook gently for 30-40 minutes - the fruit should be tender but not mushy.  Take off the heat, remove the lid and leave to stand for 10 minutes.  
Serve warm with vanilla ice cream or double cream.  An almond biscuit goes well too.

Gathering the last of the berries

Blueberry & Raspberrry Mascarpone Pot

On this day of the autumnal equinox the temperature is hovering around 20 degrees C throughout most of the UK.  Plums, apples and pears have made a welcome appearance but English blueberries are still in the shops and I can't be the only person to be still happily harvesting Autumn Bliss raspberries.  These two berries go together so well and need only the lightest sprinkling of sugar to marry the sweet of the raspberry with the slight tartness of British blueberries.

I have absolutely no idea where the recipe at the end of this post comes from.  It's one I've been making for years and, try as I might, I cannot discover its origin.  Having spent a happy hour searching through my favourite go-to books for inspiration on fruits does, however, give me the excuse to share a peek at the work of Patricia Curtan.  I have a bit of a thing about food illustrations and, if only I had the talent, I'd probably abandon photographing - and maybe even talking about - food, swapping it for the illustrative life.  One of my favourite artists is Patricia Curtan who's best known for her beautiful colour relief prints which illustrate many of Alice Waters' Chez Panisse books.  The two below appear in Chez Panisse Fruit by Alice Waters.  You can luxuriate in more of Patricia Curtan's work by going here 

Photo of Raspberries Illustration by Patricia Curtan
Chez Panisse Fruit by Alice Waters

Raspberries are not just for summer and they really are the easiest of fruits to grow.  The trickiest thing about raspberry canes is curtailing their ambitions - they love to spread their roots and produce new canes if you let them.  Planting an 'autumn' fruiting variety can extend the season right up to the end of September or even early October.  'Autumn Bliss' is a great choice, producing large flavoursome berries.  The canes start fruiting before 'summer' raspberries are quite over.

Photo of Blueberries Illustration by Patricia Curtan
Chez Panisse Fruit by Alice Waters

Blueberries are a fruit I've toyed with growing but they need light, free-draining, acidic ground to grow well. London clay won't do and I'm not a great fan of trying to change the pH balance of soil.  An alternative is to grow the plants in pots filled with ericaceous compost and apply a high potash feed.  There's still the problem that birds love them even more than raspberries.  Hmm, maybe one day I'll grow them but for now I'll leave it to the experts.

Here's the recipe.  It's got to be the easiest in my repertoire and perfect for when you have to knock up a quick dessert.  If anyone does recognise where it comes from, do let me know as I'd love to be able to attribute it.  If you have by now moved on from soft fruit, I think some stone fruit would work for this dish - a barely-sweetened compote of plums for instance.  The grill warms the fruits beneath the molten mascarpone just enough to bring out their fragrance.

Blueberry & Raspberry mascarpone pots
(Serves 4)

A 50/50 mix of blueberries and raspberries (quantity depends on the size of your ramekins)
250g mascarpone
50g demerara sugar

Wash the blueberries and mix with an equal quantity of raspberries.
Fill 4 ramekins to just below the top.
Spoon mascarpone over the fruit 
Sprinkle with demerara sugar.
Place ramekins under a hot grill until the topping starts to caramelise.

Serve with a crisp biscuit, if you like - an almond one will go well.

La Grotta Ices - Creating ice cream memories

Apricot & Nougat choc ice
La Grotta Ices

A battered copy of Chez Panisse Desserts by Lindsey Remolif Shere sits on the bookshelf.  That instant connection over a shared love of a book bodes well for my visit.  My own, admittedly less-well used, copy has survived house-moves and floods.  The pages of my copy have tell-tale marks of sticky kitchen adventures into the mysteries of curds and crepes , sherbets and soufflés.  The copy on this shelf bears the traces of more serious professional study.

I wrote about Kitty Travers a couple of years ago focusing on her influential ice cream making course at The School of Artisan Food.  Since then, despite the fact I buy ice cream from La Grotta Ices almost weekly, I've simply tweeted my addiction.  In the time following my course, Kitty Travers has been featured in more influential publications than mine, but I have the advantage, I think.  None of the writers can have given the ices quite such a thorough sampling!

La Grotta Ices
Flavour Board

So, in the interests of further research, I accepted an invitation - maybe with a tad too much alacrity - to visit the ice cream 'shed' of my dreams.  My friend, the hugely talented food illustrator Anna Koska joined me (examples of her work can be found at Anna Koska Illustration).  Aprons and hairnets donned, hands scrubbed and hygiene instruction received, we pitched in.

Four companionable hours of chopping and stirring, questioning and story swapping disappeared in the blink of an eye.  It was easy to see why Kitty finds this such a satisfying and rewarding way to spend her day.  Then it seemed only fair to leave her to get on with the real work. We felt very privileged to get our hands on such quality seasonal ingredients under such expert guidance.  Right now the fruits include peaches, nectarines, figs, autumn raspberries, blackberries and plums.

What's so special about La Grotta Ices, and why do I keep returning?  I'm really not into the sweet slipperyness of most ice creams.  What I do appreciate are top quality ingredients with a high fruit/low added sugar content.  I want vibrant, imaginative flavour combinations (that's imaginative, not wacky) for my ice creams, parfaits, sorbets and granitas.  So how about Blackberry & Violet; Melon & Jasmine; Gooseberry & Almond Nougat; Pink Grapefruit, Verjus & Bay; Peche de Vigne & Tomato; Chocolate, Mollases & Black Fig; or naturally sugar-free Apricot & Chamomile?  Some scary sounding combinations in that list.  In the right hands, it's an ice cream revolution and I'm very happy to be onboard.

Kitty has travelled profesionally from pastry kitchens to ice cream parlours, from London to New York via Nice and Rome.  After nearly four years in the kitchen of St John Bread & Wine, her life in ices began to take shape, initially out of a desire to recreate memories of her travels.  Starting out by selling at London Farmers Markets and pitching up outside Neal's Yard Dairy in her tiny Piaggio Van, she now sells most Saturdays from her 'hole in the wall' outlet at Spa Terminus in Bermondsey.   You might also be lucky enough to find her at various Fairs around London (Frieze Art is one that's coming up soon).

Mulberry Granita
La Grotta Ices

La Grotta Ices is about more than making ice cream.  Kitty Travers is an ice cream maker who wants to "create memories" via the medium of ice cream.  Well she certainly succeeded in re-creating one for Anna Koska this week.  It took just a spoonful of Raspberry & Fig Leaf ice to evoke a powerful sense of brushing past the fig tree in her beloved Sussex garden.  

La Grotta Ices
Unit 11 Dockley
Between Spa Road and Dockley Road
Bermondsey
London SE16 3SF

Saturday 9-2pm

Spa Terminus Producers and Map

LeCoq - London

LeCoq
Roast chicken & Caponata

After far too many lean years London has seen a spate of quality chicken restaurants opening in the last 2 years, from fried chicken in Brixton to chicken schnitzel in Soho.  Mostly they've left me cold.  The American chicken and 'slaw formula just doesn't do it for me - let alone the German twist.  The chicken joint I was looking for, it seemed, just didn't exist in London.  My dream place has a warm neighbourhood feel; the aroma of well-reared chicken turning slowly on a spit, potatoes beneath soaking up the chicken fat; something acidulous alongside to cut the richness; an uncomplicated, yet gutsy red wine to drink with it.  It seemed this was too much to ask of London.

Finally we have LeCoq, the perfect, no-booking, 40- (or so) seater, only a few doors down from Islington's excellent Trullo.  It's handily close to Highbury & Islington underground and in the rapidly developing food hub of N1.  I don't know if this is the chicken restaurant London has been waiting for, but it's definitely the one I've been craving.

LeCoq is owned by sisters Sanja (a founder of Salt Yard Group) and Ana (Bocca di Lupo, Rochelle Canteen) Morris.  Ben Benton left Stevie Parle's Dock Kitchen to head up the kitchen.  The menu is admirably simple.  A couple of starters, a main of rotisserie chicken served with something to complement and cut the fattiness, and two puddings.  Although focused firmly on chicken, the menu changes weekly and, on Sunday,s a different roast meets the flame of the rotisserie.

LeCoq
Ricotta, fig leaf, Strega ice cream

Starters, on our visit, were an artichoke dish and some Pico charcuterie but we'd already spotted the puddings so something had to give.  The chicken, cooked to juicy perfection, was firm-fleshed, the way well-reared outdoor chicken should be.  That day it came with a portion of knock-out caponata, a jug of juice and spoonful of tarragon mayonnaise alongside.  A side dish of potatoes and garlic cloves cooked in the chicken fat was more than worth its £3.75, a salad ordered proved unnecessary.  The house red, Nero d'Avola, at a very reasonable £4.50 a glass, was just right.  Puddings were a good Chocolate Tart scattered with honeycomb or a very good Ricotta, Fig Leaf and Strega ice cream (made for LeCoq by Sorbitum ices).

More about those chickens, as these things matter a lot to me.  The birds come from Kennel Farm in Sutton Hoo.  Slow-growing, fed an additive free diet and allowed to forage freely with plenty of room to stretch their legs (far more space than any EU law on "free-range" directs).  The quality shows on the plate. Two courses for £16, a couple of side-dish and a glass of wine each brought the bill to a very satisfying £47.25 excluding service.  That's what I call a bargain.  Added to which, the care taken over every aspect ensured a swift return is certain.

LeCoq
292-294 St Paul's Road
Canon bury
London N1 2LH
Open Tues-Sun 12-2.30pm & 6-10pm

PS  Takeaway coming soon.

Almond, Polenta and Lemon Cake with blackberry compote

Almond, Polenta and Lemon Cake
with blackberry compote

Blackberries, or brambles, are probably the most widely foraged foodstuff in the UK.  This is probably a dangerous claim as we seem to have rediscovered our passion for "foraging", but during their season it's hard to take a country walk and not come across someone picking blackberries.  Speak to any seasoned blackberry picker and they'll tell you they have a favourite spot they return to year after year.  That's not to say they'll tell you where it is - blackberry patches are jealously guarded - but it is the spot they will head for each year to try their luck.  That first picking is invested with more hope than expectation.  Will the fruit be plump or seedy?  Fit for a blackberry and apple pie or destined to be sieved for a fruit jelly?

Wild Blackberries

A late, wet start to spring has turned out to be perfect for fruit growing in the UK.  From gooseberries through berries, cherries and currants, all have cropped well this year.  Now plums and gages are starting to arrive and tasting sweet as nectar.  Apples and pears are expected to produce bumper crops too.  Right now it's the turn of wild blackberries, so much better than cultivated ones and they're free.  Foraging is by its nature anarchic but my own written rules are 'leave some for somebody else'.

Almond,  Polenta and Lemon Cake

Blackberry is a fruit I would never plant on my allotment.  It's a bit of a thug and will take over if you let it. Besides, wherever there is a bit of uncultivated land, there is likely to be a bramble patch.  Birds disperse the seeds very efficiently.  If you want a better behaved option, go for loganberry which is a cross between a blackberry and a raspberry.  If you do pick wild blackberries, folklore has it that you shouldn't take them after Michaelmas (29 September) as the Devil will have spat on them.  Superstitious or not, by the end of September in the UK you're unlikely to find berries you'd actually want to eat.

Almond, Polenta and Lemon Cake
with blackberry compote

My first pickings this year proved to be packed with juice, making the seeds barely noticeable.  Half of the berries were the basis for a classic apple and blackberry crumble.  The rest I warmed with a little sugar to enjoy as a compote which would be good, I thought, with a little almond 'something'.  I had almonds; I had polenta; and I had lemons.  With those ingredients, The River Cafe Cookbook was the first book I reached for. Their recipe for Torta di Polenta, Mandorle e Limone is the basis for the recipe below.  I know it's sacrilege, but I did change a few things.

Not wanting a cake as large as 30cm, I cut down the recipe to suit a 17cm x 6cm round tin.  It produced a beautifully light cake which is also gluten-free.  I found the lemon didn't come through quite enough for me so I increased the amount of lemon zest recommended.  I should mention the finished cake is fairly fragile so take extra care to prepare the tin.  The cake keeps well for a couple of days but it will lose its crunch.

Almond, Polenta and Lemon Cake
with blackberry compote
(Serves 4-6)

150g (6oz) unsalted butter, softened
150g (6oz) caster sugar
2 medium eggs
150g (6oz) almonds, skinned and ground fairly finely (or use ready-ground almonds)
Half a tsp of vanilla extract (or qtr tsp of vanilla powder - Ndali brand is very good)
Zest of 2 lemons
Juice of half a lemon
75g (3oz) polenta
Half a teaspoon baking powder
Pinch of salt

For the compote:
300g (12oz) blackberries
25-50g (1-2oz) icing sugar (depending on sweetness of berries)


Preheat oven 170C (fan 150C)/Gas 3.
Lightly butter a 17cm x 6cm round tin and dust with polenta.
Cream the butter well with the caster sugar.  Add the ground almonds and vanilla and mix briefly.  Gradually beat in the eggs. 
Gently fold in the lemon zest and juice, followed by the polenta, baking powder and salt.
Spoon the mixture into the prepared tin and bake for about 30 minutes or until a skewer comes out fairly clean (under-cooked is better than over-cooked).  Leave to cool in the tin before turning out.

While the cake is cooking, put the blackberries in a heavy-bottomed pan with no more than 1 tablespoon of water.  Heat until the juices flow.  Remove from the heat and mix in 30g of icing sugar, adding more if the compote is too tart.  

Spoon a little compote alongside a slice of cake.  I don't think it needs the addition of cream but it's up to you.