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Awana Malaysian Satay Bar - Awana Eat Somewhere Else

"Oh Dear!" I thought as I opened the wine list and saw that the cheapest bottle in the "monthly promotions" was £27. Then I looked at the next page and my eyes spotted the £480 Chateau Mouton Rothschild. Wow, I thought. This place must really be something to have a wine list where 80% of the bottles are over £50. Maybe I'm just out of touch since I eat in budget places like Polpo and Koya and have rarely seen a wine list of this calibre outside of an enoteca where the wine list is the size of a bible and caters for every budget or a truly exceptional restaurant of the Michelin variety.

Nevermind, I thought, clutching my Toptable 50% off food offer - the cuisine here is going to knock my socks off so it is deserving of a great wine to go with it. Then I (happily!) found the £19 bottle of Argentinian Malbec at the very back of the wine menu. The waiter comes around and it is too warm. We ask him for a bucket to cool it a couple of degrees. He nods, then pours out a glass for everyone ignoring our request then leaves looking vaguely bewildered. We never see him again.

So far, we have staff with a ridiculous wine list and no clue how to serve wine.

The menu is tantalising, lots of great authentic dishes, a good handful of street food dishes - satay skewers, grilled meats, roti etc. Mains average about £10-£20 which makes the exorbitant wine list all the more baffling. Then the food arrives.

Our three starters are unremarkable. Spring rolls with very bland flavour, zinged up a bit by sweet chilli sauce. Ayam Cincang Wonton (little crispy parcels of chicken) are a touch greasy, not too crispy and taste of... bland chicken (a recurring theme, despite its "corn fed" status paraded all over the menu. Perhaps the corn was of a particularly crap vintage that year?) again zinged up by the sweet chilli sauce. My daging kerabu - strips of beef marinated in oyster sauce and palm sugar mixed with salad and sambal sauce was the most exciting of the three, nice smooth flavours, a little kick, but so far I hadn't been bowled over by anything. The sneaking suspicion that the quality of the food was probably lower than Busaba eathai (which is a third cheaper) was beginning to grow.




Four mains later and I was less and less thrilled. My tiger prawn stuffed corn-fed chicken with sambal belacan and stir fried pak choi came with no pak choi, but two tiny strands of baby broccoli, non-existant sambal belacan, the ever present sweet chilli sauce and zero flavour. I couldn't distinguish the prawn from the chicken, nor could you tell the meat had been anywhere near a chargrill (perhaps if I'd smoked a cigarette first or licked a lump of coal it might have improved things). Kung Fu noodles looked like a Mr. Wu £5 eat-all-you-like buffet noodle dish and tasted like one too, but cost £18. The other two might well have been the same dish except one came in a pineapple and one had a vague element of chilli which imparted some sort of flavour. Hooray! An achievement!

Thank god for the second bottle of Argentinian Malbec, so far my favourite dish of the evening.

The saving grace was the desert. I had a scoop of lemongrass and chilli sorbet which oozed delicate flavours and was cool and refreshing, sweet then tangy. Dadar coconut filled pancakes were incredibly morish and Kec Kakang chocolate cake was gobbled up so fast I didn't actually get to taste any.

With 50% off, four of us ate for £104. Decent, but when I think it would have cost £208 otherwise to eat something I could have picked up in Wagamama - but more flavourful, I balked.

Awana needs to buck up on its spices or introduce a decent affordable wine list as well as reduce its prices, right now it looks, feels and tastes a bit Hong Kong Phooey.

"Udon" know what you're missing 'til you eat at Koya

Every blogger, his wife and their three children has written about Koya - all glowing praise and with the kind of prose reserved for edwardian love letters that make broad-bosomed women swoon.

And on that note I have little to add to such fantastic reviews such as the ones from TomEatsJenCooks or LizzieEatsLondon but like them, I went for the full on Udon shebang and was rewarded in so many stomach-satisfying ways. There are noodle shops coming out of your ears in London, and you could spend ridiculous amounts of money faffing about in mega posh Japanese dining establishments, or slurping sub-standard rubbish in Chinatown but Koya, at the heart of Soho on Frith Street, is both moderately priced and exceptionally good with all the Udon made in house and served either hot or cold in either hot or cold broth or sauce for pouring.



Before even going in to the deliciuos side dishes, including the now stratospherically famous Onsen Tamago - or "hot spring egg" an egg poached slowly at 60 degrees and served cold making your dashi deliciously creamy and silky.

Esti had the Kinoko Hiya-Atsu, udon in a hot walnut miso with wild mushrooms, suffice to say the walnuts were a genius idea. My Buta MIso Hiya-Atsu, or udon with pork and miso paste was a touch too sweet for my liking but I somehow finished it anyway and the special of the day, clams steamed in sake, were being enjoyed by an amorous couple sitting beside us whose "mmmms" of delight I put down to the exquisite clams, rather than their furtive footsie under the table...

KOYA:

49 Frith Street

London

W1D 4SG

The Compass, Islington. Gastrogrub.

Those that know me know that little piggies, and any possible edible derivative of them, are things that I like very much. Possibly a bit too much in fact as I regularly dream of the day when a prosciutto Spa opens in London where I can be wrapped in slices of Parma and be fed tidbits of Coppa by some semi-naked Lothario dressed in a loincloth made... of pork loin...

Now, stick the words "ham hock" beside the word "rillettes" (yum, oozing salty goose fat!) and I pretty much start hearing wedding bells a-ringing and need to whip out my secret drool bucket I keep stashed in a back pocket somewhere.

Well, the drool bucket certainly made an appearance at The Compass where I devoured ham hock rilletes with picallili on fresh bread before demolishing half of my friend's silky, pungeant chicken liver, wild mushroom and truffle oil pate with cornichons (gotta love those cornichons...).

The Compass sits on a rather unassuming street, and in fact doesn't really stick out much. Inside is not exactly award-winning decor either, with simple, but tasteful wooden tables and a curved bar beside the open kitchen at the front. For being a Gastropub, its slightly lacking on the pub side of things as the whole room is devoted to restaurant seating. But they make rillettes with ham hock, so after my third glass of Tempranillo Cabernet from Spain and having licked my fingers clean of any possible trace of pate de foie, I was ready to forgive them. In fact I nearly assaulted the waitress with my over eager praise of the spreadable delight.

I enjoyed a crispy seabream with squash and cockles in a soft, creamy sauce, but looked enviously at Alberto's prettily pink roast spiced lamb with couscous and tzatziki.

I somehow ended up having a Laphroaig with my cheese, not entirely sure why but Alberto seemed keen on hitting the smokey stuff so went along with it.

Cheeseboard contained a totally unremarkable Isle of Mull cheddar, a lovely Colston basset stilton, and my favourite, the rather nutty Tunworth soft rind. With cranberry chutney.

Those who only fancy barsnacks can head in almost any gastronomic direction here from "chip butty" to grilled crab on toast or chorizo in wine. Had pay day been yesterday I could have gone into these further, but sadly, I'm a lass on a (pretty rubbish) budget.

The Compass. Hopefully you won't need one to find your way there. Pronto.

Song Que for your Supper

Lying half-way up Kingsland Road, fifteen minutes from Old Street tube station the mint green cantine-style interior of Song Que heaves with hungry diners. There are several other vietnamese restaurants and cheapo cafès along this road, but this is the only one with the serious queue at the door, and don't let that put you off, the waiter would free a table up for you if it costs him his daughter. This is no-frills, no trimmings, good-quality comfort food. Mains cost an average of £6 and are extremely generous. Flavours are bold and service is fast with some pretty witty banter coming from the staff. Don't expect to be fussed over and to lounge about once your plate's been cleared, there's others waiting behind you. Do, however, expect friendly and efficient service and a tasty and extensive menu.

Tried and tested:

Spring rolls - crispy and golden but a tad greasy for my taste
Vietnamese summer rolls - these were divine, full of fresh flavours and good texture
Pho Tai (rare beef noodle soup) - heart-warming and delicious, but could've been just a teensy bit more generous with the meat.
Pancake with prawn and chicken - light fluffy egg pancake with crispy beansprouts and very tender prawns
Grilled squid with ginger and spring onions - the squid was fresh and not at all rubbery
Chilli salted squid - this was a strong dish, popping with chilli
Lemongrass chicken with peppers - again, a real fiery kick of lemongrass and crunchy peppers for texture
There's jasmine tea and a varied selection of Vietnamese bottled beers as well as the regular beers.


Cost: about 14 pounds per head for two courses and a drink.


134, Kingsland Road
London
E2 8DY
Closed Sundays
Children Welcome

Jedi Nights at Gordon's Wine Bar

Continuing my foray into the world of internet dating... its amazing how fast two humans can arrange a second "date" once they've discovered a mutual affection for lightsabers (note: this is not an innuendo - I really am talking about Jedi techy stuff here).

So, not quite the Mos Eisley cantina, but dark, stuffy and sufficiently cavernous to pass for a distant Tatooine cousin, the Gordon's Wine Bar near Embankment station was the setting for an evening of too much (good) wine, too much (good, smelly) cheese but just the right amount of good conversation.


I love Gordon's. The cosy alcoves smell a bit like musty old port barrels, which is exactly what the place should smell like, the entirely French and Italian staff are mostly useless but somehow totally appropriate, the slabs of cheese are humungous and there's cornichons "a volonte" clearly, they know me well. They serve a really good selection of port, sherry, manzanilla, red, white, rose and madeira and also have a decent hot food buffet. Best in the summer months is the hog roast at the end of the long thin strip of patio/garden that stretches outside the wine bar along the Embankment gardens.
Shoddy lighting outside does mean that after sundown you're somewhat falling into/over people, although that might also just be the port talking. Cheese-wise, we enjoyed some Port Salut, a dolcelatte and some Stinking Bishop. I think. Divine.

A. drank something or other, E. drank something or other different, both choices were yum. A. and E. then both shared a bottle of Rose which was crisp and refreshing (yes, I sound as knowledgeable as a Wetherspoon's wine list) then A and E proceeded to demolish the leftovers of someone else's wine, thus proving we really are about as classy as those egg-headed creatures in the Star Wars cantina band.

With all that it's rather a miracle A. and E. didn't break out into an all out demented Ewok-dance fest on the tube.

Cracking good time at Prix Fixe bistrot.

Meandering through the wierd and not so wonderful world of the post-break up, heart still a touch battered and appetite on a whirlwind of ups and downs, I decided to amuse myself by exploring a little light-hearted internet dating.

Call it part social experiment, part desperate attempt to move on, part insanity.

So, blind date number one (and this is in no way meant to sound like there's hundreds of them lined up!), let's call him "A" to preserve the poor guy's anonymity, was at Prix Fixe Brasserie which is only appropriate as my date was French (anyone seeing a trend here?) and, thank heavens, not vegetarian.

Last time I ate here I don't think I'd ever even earned a pay check, although not much has changed, except they now serve Atlantic Rock Oysters (hurrah!) of which I ate five as my starter. Plump, sweet, large, perfectly good and not horrendously overpriced.

A opted for roasted foie gras (you can keep 40 virgins and God, when I die I want a bathful of this stuff) on toast. Actually, since we were too busy discussing my traumatic friday (neighbour jumping off roof, coma, police etc. average Brixton night) I never actually asked to taste it, but since he finished the lot, and hey, its roasted foie gras, I'll make a stab at it and say it was very good.

Mains were slow-roasted pork belly for me, with sauerkraut and apple relish. The slab of belly was humungous and the crispy skin so thick I nearly swerved it off my plate a few times, but quite scrumptious, although a smaller portion might have made me feel less like a hog myself.

A. had simple entrecote and frites on recommendation of the waiter who seemed to snub the filet. Again, yakking away as I do when I'm nervous, I totally missed the food exchange opportunity. So... probably a decent steak...

The fun came at the cheese course, where for almost ten pounds I got served a wedge of cheese small enough to mistake for a postage stamp but accompanied by enough cheese crackers to build a second leaning tower of Pisa. How I was supposed to divide my teeny cheese wedge onto so many crackers was beyond me, and I could see A. (scientist) eagerly making calculations in his head, but the mathematical conundrum that this cheese to cracker ratio presented was beyond all of us. It did provide quite a few laughs though, and the cheese, though small, was very good.

I won't bother telling you what A. had for pudding because AGAIN I failed to try any. Poor show on the Itinerant Epicure's behalf I must say...

But anyhow, the lot was washed down with a rather good New Zealand Jibe 2006 Pinot Noir and conversation flowed very nicely and we both have problems with mice in our houses and an inevitable Strasbourg connection (small world, getting smaller by the minute). So all in all a pleasant evening.

Which is good since I'm heading to Prix Fixe next week for my birthday dinner, which means I can try the steak and the foie gras and the dessert and actually report back properly as a good food blogger should and even take annoying photos of my dishes!

Now, must go and read that article on French Basque cuisine in the Guardian... the mind tries to move on but the heart doesn't so quickly...


PRIX FIXE
39 Dean StreetLondon
W1D 4PU
020 7734 5976

Dehesa - pinxos that pinch your pocket

Would you believe I ended up at Dehesa because at the street festival "A Taste of Spain" (taking place on Regent Street) you couldn't get a single glass of bloody wine ANYWHERE and in order to nab the most microscopic piece of jamòn you had to queue for 45 minutes at one of endless regional stands whilst anxious ladies thrust brochures up your nose under the sweltering sun. Taste of Spain? Waste of Spain if you ask me.

So anyway, Dehesa.... well they certainly saw the Brits coming. One of an endless newish crop of pinxos, tapas, cicchetti, over-priced tiny grilled things on plates that in Europe cost about 2 euros - type bars. The classic tortilla is £4. Yes, a combination of egg and potatoes. £4. For a quarter slice. Good? Hmm... if you can't knock this one up better at home...

The food is good, don't get me wrong, it's just far from exceptional and lacks the heartiness and richness that real Spanish tapas can impart despite the small portions . A bowl of hard boiled quail's eggs with rock salt and paprika at £5.50 was a bit too gimmicky for me, when they could have done something incredible had they poached them and burst them over some fresh asparagus for example. The salt to quail's eggs ratio was enough to have the health police rushing round for a cholesterol check too, you could have baked a whole fish in the salt, there was that much of it.

I had mozzarella with olive tapenade and crostini. The sort of little dish that you get in Europe for about 5 euros and comes with a giant oozing cheese and four or five thick slices of grilled bread slathered with the black stuff. This was all twee and dinky, wee mozarellas of ok quality and two tiny crostini on a slice of bread that could double for a wheat thin spread with what can only be described as a "dainty smattering" of tapenade. As though it were marmite.

The biggest joke was the drink however. Davy's wine bar knows its stuff when it comes to serving sherry. A decent glass can be obtained there for a fiver with little fuss or show. Here it took a good 15 minutes for a glass of fino to arrive and when it did, Raquel, who'd ordered the more expensive Manzanilla Pasada, had almost a third less in her glass than I did with my Ximenez . When she enquired as to the reason, we were fobbed off with a pretentious "its about the intensity of flavour and how it is imparted in a smaller quantity." To which Raquel, a Spanish born-and-raised lady with considerable experience in the wine deparment simply scoffed "so, I pay more, and get less?" Then looked at me as it to say "can you imagine a waitress saying that to some crusty sherry-producing farmer in a smoky Andalucian bar and getting away with it alive?" TO which I could only cringe...

Now Polpo on Beak Street on the other hand... super cichetti!

FROMAGE

VERSUS

Just a note to respond to many demands made to me by various French compadres I have met over the years about Britain's "lack of cheese". It turns out Britain produces over 700 varieties of cheese. We have 14 "Protected Origin" cheeses. So the French can stop complaining, we can wheel out the fromage just as well as they can. Stick that in your reblochon and smoke it! Merci.

Light summer supper..

Two light, Salad Club-inspired dishes, and a classic Italian starter for a light summer supper with friends. I've watched Ellie from Salad Club cook many similar things and have finally succumbed to the lure of the delicious looking lentil dishes she churns out and have made my own little version, borrowed heavily I admit. All my recipes are for 3-4 people.

Green Lentils with Chorizo and Red Onion

You'll need:

200 g green lentils

1 small spicy cooking chorizo

1 red onion

a few small tomatoes

handful fresh coriander

handful flat leaf parsley

3 cloves of garlic

salt and pepper

Add your lentils to a pan of cold water, bring to the boil then simmer for as long as the pack instructions require. I like my lentils with a bit of bite for a salad dish, not mushy. Dice your onions and chop your garlic and fry gently in a deep frying pan in some olive oil until soft. Add the chopped chorizo and fry. once the oil has taken on a reddish colour, add the small tomatoes and mush them into the oil with a spatula. Drain your lentils and add them to the chorizo and onions, season to taste and add the chopped herbs. Serve cold or warm.

Bulgar Wheat with Butternut Squash, Feta and Asparagus.

You'll need:

200 g bulgar wheat

1 red onion

1 butternut squash

1 pack British asparagus tips

1 small courgette

100g Greek feta cheese

fresh dill

fresh mint

Cook the bulgar wheat according to pack instructions. Drain and let it cool. Roast some small chunks of peeled butternut squash in the oven (160°) for about 40 minutes with olive oil, salt and pepper. Remove from the oven and put aside. Steam the asparagus tips for 6-8 minutes and set aside. Fry half the red onion in some olive oil in a frying pan, add the courgette, sliced, to the oil and fry until golden brown. Drain and set aside.

Place your bulgar wheat in a bowl, add the courgette, asparagus, butternut squash and the thinly sliced remainder of the red onion. Crumble in some feta cheese, pour over the olive oil from the pan (add more if needed), add the chopped fresh herbs and serve!

Mozarella and Tomato salad.

You'll need:

A mozzarella di Bufala, the one in the posh packaging, or preferably from a trusted deli. If you can, get a burratina - even creamier!

1 box of Isle of Wight tomatoes or Kent tomatoes in season.

Fresh basil.

Extra Virgin Olive Oil.

Chop the tomatoes roughly, tear up the mozzarella, coat the lot with olive oil and sea salt. Turn with the hands and dress with torn basil leaves. Serve immediately.

Dos Tortillas Para Ti

Well, technically speaking, one of them is more of a frittata, but let's not get lexically over-analytical over a few eggs...

Easy to knock up, wonderful to wolf down and probably far too high in cholesterol content, these eggy, summery delights are perfect to accompany a barbecue, or a light supper, or to slice up and pack for a picnic. You can put whatever you want in a frittata, and tortillas are filling enough to be a lunch all on their own so start experimenting. Excellent use of fridge leftovers too...

Tortilla de Patatas con Pimientos

You'll need:

6 eggs

1 onion

1 pepper

salt

pepper

olive oil

Heat 3/4 inch of olive oil in a deep frying pan and put in the peeled potatoes diced into smallish chunks. Sprinkle with salt. Let these simmer slowly on a low heat until they start to go mushy. They absolutely must not burn or go crisp. In a bowl, lightly beat the six eggs and season.Once the potatoes are done, drain off the excess oil and place the potatoes into the egg mix. Mush with a fork to amalgamate the mixture (a few chunks of potato are always nice).Heat whatever remaining oil is left in the frying pan and fry your onions and peppers. Once soft, add the potato and egg mixture. Cook, tilting the pan occasionally and pulling the cooked egg mix towards you with a spatula and filling the gap with still runny egg. Once the top is more or less cooked, place a plate over the tortilla and flip the tortilla onto it. Slide the tortilla, uncooked side down back into the pan and cook the other side. After a minute or two it should be done.Sldie back onto a clean plate, let it cool and serve...

Frittata with Sweet Potato, Tomato and Dill

You'll need:

6 eggs

3 small sweet potatoes

10 small tomates

half a white onion

1 clove of garlic

handful of fresh dill

parsley

salt

pepper

olive oil

Chop your sweet potato into small chunks and bake in a hot oven (160°)for about 4 minutes until soft. Whilst you're doing that, break eggs into a bowl and beat lightly, season and put aside. Fry your onions and garlic in a deep frying pan until soft, then add the tomatoes, cut in halves and fry those until soft. Season the lot. Add the cooked sweet potato to the pan, the shopped parsley and dill and then top with the egg. Use the same principal for cooking as the above tortilla.

Serve when warm or cool. This is the point where a cold beer should be offered to the chef.

12-hour wine braised shin of beef

I stole this from the River Cafè cookbook and it must be the most fool-proof, hassle free and delicious way to pot roast a beef I have ever come across. You'd be hard pressed to mess this recipe up, and it sunds impressive enough to ellicit "ooohs" of wonder from your friends.

First arm yourself with a 2.5 kilo piece of beef shin, with the bone still in it. Then go and purchase a couple of bottles of Chianti, doesn't need to be the best at all, but Chianti has good flavours to marry with the beef.

Pre-heat your oven to 70 degrees, the lowest setting you can get. After seasoning generously, plop your beef shin in a deep, heavy-bottomed cast iron pot - one that can go in the oven eventually - and pour over one bottle of wine. Add about 30 cloves of garlic, a handful of herbs of your choice, such as thyme, rosemary and parsley. Bring to the boil rapidly for 2-3 minutes, then turn off the heat.

Pop the beef in the oven and leave it for twelve hours, checking every four hours or so to see if the wine needs topping up. Best to do it over night.

Once cooked, take the beef out and put it on a carving plate, wrapped in foil to keep it warm and succulent. Pieces should literally be falling apart by now.

Reduce the wine by boiling it vigorously on the hob, add onions if you want. Once it has reduced by a third, strain it, mush up some of the garlic cloves into the strained jus and serve with your sliced beef, and some roasted root veggies. Aye carumba!

Le Bouchon Bordelais - Un vrai bordel...

Le Bouchon Bordelais in Clapham boasts a great location, comes equipped with young, athletic, tanned, study-abroad-type waiters in crisp aprons, the requisit 10 irritating Parisians sat at the table at the back and the most ridiculously over-priced bar-snack menu this side of the Thames.
Yes, they show all the rugby you could possibly hope for. Yes, Ricard afficionados and expat Frenchies will lap it up and yes, it's probably the highest concentration of good-looking people you can get in Clapham, but this does not justify £9.50 for a plate of cheese consisting effectively of 5 shavings the size of a 1/4 Babybel and a single fig, quartered to give the illusion of abundance.
Similarly a plateau de charcuterie at a cool £10.50 - and by cool I mean the rillettes were rock solid and compacted together in a frozen lardy lump, also wasn't the best showcase of a country whose every village produces at least one variety of heavenly cured pig/goose/duck/animal poached in butter and fat until it becomes an unctuous patè from Paradise.
Maybe it was the fact yesterday's Clermont-Perpignan top 14 final was particularly boring. More than likely my spritely mood was scuppered by the constant drunken bellowing of one lone, hyper-active Clermont fan with severe ADHD and a 1000 decibel voice who not only felt it necessary to pound his own table with his feet/arms/head every time anyone with a yellow rugby shirt appeared on screen, but also everyone else's, resulting in shattered glass, sprays of beer and spittle and a slightly terrified looking Perpignan fan huddling under a wall-hanging hoping not to be found.
Indeed, it is hard to enjoy good-looking staff, sub-standard charcuterie and deep rugby analysis amongst friends when a gurning idiot is having a brain aneurism/epileptic fit brought on by extreme Clermont fanaticism right behind you.
Did I mention the £8.50 Moules (we're talking a starter portion here, and no, this isn't Chez Gérard)? Did I mention the Croque Monsieur at £6.50? I know the French claim that their version of a cheese toastie is some sort of gourmet culinary feat of immense achievement, but let's be honest: bread, ham and bechamel shoved in a toastie-maker should only cost £6.50 at the Savoy if it's served on a silver platter or drizzled with truffle oil.

AND YET! I shall no doubt return. Since they do have very good-looking waiters. And show rugby. And it's French. And I'm a sucker. And even sub-standard charcuterie can make me smile. As long as Clermont aren't playing.

United Sandwiches of America

A while back on www.iknowagreatplace.com I did a list of top five Italian sandwiches... I'm now heading across the pond to the U.S of A, land I hold dear to my heart, to bring you exciting adventures in noshland and some great bread-cheese-meat-filling combos to get your nashers slobbering...

1. The Philly CHeese Steak, Philadelphia.

When in Philadelphia, head to Jim's Steaks at 4th and South Street and order a Philly Cheese Steak and cold beer.
What, pray, is a Philly Cheese Steak, you ask, eyebrows aquiver...?
My dears, it is but the most divine, sloppy, gooey, cheesy, meaty, greasy and calorific food wonder. The premise is this: get a good cut of steak, fry it, slather it with Cheez-Whizz (spray can orange gloop), melted Provolone or American cheese (that all-encompassing product of dubious origin) and stick the whole lot in the middle of a bread roll dripping with steak grease. Add pickles if you wish, or jalepeno peppers. I guarantee you orgasmic food heaven within minutes of narfing your first mouthful.

Jim's Steaks was my joint of preference, largely for the black and chrome 50's streamline deco and nifty neon lighting, but Philadelphians will fall over themselves to recommend any number of "The Original Philly Cheese Steak" house, including Pat's or Geno's.
Since the thing usually drips and oozes, people have perfected the "Philadelphia Lean", a tactical action which involves bending over your sandwich rather than bringing it to your mouth...
Eating a cheese steak... it's a science.

2. The Lox and Cream Cheese Bagel, New York City.

New York could merit a sandwich top ten of its own, but this is one of my favourite NY portable foodstuffs. There are many great places to sample this wonder of New York Jewish cuisine, the smoked salmon (Lox) and cream cheese bagel. Head to Katz's, where Sally famously yelled her orgasm to Harry in front of unsuspecting diners in the ultimate rom-com. You can sit in the movie-moment booth and indulge in some pretty spectacular bagels that may well have you hot under the collar.

Head to Coney Island or Little Odessa for some authentic smoked salmon from any number of the small Polish, Russian or Ukraianian delis. Head to Williamsborough in Brooklyn for a slice of Yiddishe Heimishe (good old fashioned home-comfort Jewish) bagels and rub shoulders with an historic Jewish community.

Then many rave about the offerings at Russ and Daughter's deli in SoHo. 179 East Houston Street New York, NY 10002. WHat a fantastic spread of smoked fish, caviar, and a huge slab of Gravadlax (where the term Lox is derived from) Salmon which they slice in front of you. Add some sour cream or cream cheese, red onion, capers and oodles of black pepper on a poppy seed bagel. THe variety and choice of salmons is incredible and the quality is fresh as fresh can be...

So don't be shmuck, schlep to Russ's, the staff are real mensches.

3. The Oyster Po'Boy, New Orleans.

For anyone thinking the the terms oyster and po' boy (poor boy) are mutually exclusive, think again. For many a long time, oysters were a staple food of Luoisiana workmen as they were bountiful and filling. THe key to a po'boy however, is the quality of the bread, a variant on the french baguette that should be crispy on the outside and very light, airy and fluffy on the inside, a reminder of the strong French presence and influence on Louisiana life and history.

A "dressed" oyster po'boy will be a bread sub filled with fried oysters, lettuce, tomatoe, mayonnaise and if you like, onions and pickles. SOme like hot creole mustard too, YUM YUM!

Head to the French Quarter of New Orleans for any number of po'boy shops and hunker down. If you're not keen on the fried oysters, try fried shrimp, soft shell crab or beef with gravy po'boys.

4. The Corn Dog, Texas.


Technically not a sandwich, but street food all the same... In fact, the corn dog is the quintessential State Fair food, conjuring up images of mullets, dodger cars, monster truck rallies and local rodeos in the sprawling midwest.

Essentially, the corn dog is a deep-fried, battered hot dog. Just what your arteries need before hitting a shooting range, mini-golf park or "the largest pumpkin" competition at any number of middle-America country fayres. Slather it with ketchup, mayo or American mustard (that sort-of-sweet yellow goo in a squeezy tube) and be sure to have a napkin ready for the dribbles!

I would dare say the corn-dog alone makes a detour to the midwest worth your while... And for the veggies out there, the Veggie dog does exist, but I'd ask for it quietly when surrounded by beefy cowboys with spurs on their feet, chewin' tobacco at the Minnesota Farmer's Rally.

5. The Lobster Roll, New England.

Oh lordy! Fresh shellfish REALLY rocks my boat and New England boasts slurpaliscious lobster, crab and shrimp - any combination of which usually gets me salivating and in need of a bib.

The rule of thumb as I see it is: Lobster in Maine. Clams in Massachusetts. Crab in New Hampshire.

The Lobster roll is simple enough, but if done right, contains all the necessary pzazz and shebang and holy-maloney to make all your seafood-y dreams come true. A pound of fresh fresh fresh lobster meat is steamed and diced, tossed with creamy mayonnaise and stuffed into a soft white roll with diced celery or spring onion and a squeeze of lemon. If you don't give a damn about calories and weight-loss, might I recommend a douse of melted butter over the top too!

As for the best place to eat Lobster roll, I sadly wouldn't know. Probably a best bet is to head down to the harbour and ask the lobster fishermen where they'd go.

Risotto con Asparagi e Verdure - Asparagus and Broccoli Risotto

Everyone's cooking risotto at the moment it seems, and since pasta now sits in the negative column of my diet plan I am increasingly turning to rice as a way of getting that satisfactory carby bloated feeling of gastronomic satiation. British asparagus is in its prime right now and broccoli is nice for a bit of crunch too. I unfortunately can't have parmesan or butter, but frankly they aren't wholly necessary if you're working with a tasty stock, and doing without is that little bit healthier! I used the leftover stock from my chicken and chickpea casserole and just added some more water.

For two people you'll need:

4 handfuls of arborio or carnaroli rice
1 bunch of British asparagus, discard the tough end of the stalks
handful of broccoli florets
handful chopped cabbage
1 sliced leek
3 chopped sage leaves
1 onion, diced
2 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 litre of good strong chicken or vegetable stock
1 glass of white plonk
salt and pepper
olive oil


Heat a glug of olive oil in a heavy bottomed frying pan, add the diced onion and garlic and soften until transluscent. Add the rice and coat evenly with the oil, stirring for about 2-3 minutes. Add the chopped sage and stir in. Add a sprinkle of salt and pepper. Add the glass of wine and start stirring the rice grains, cook until the wine has evaporated.

Turn the heat down under the pan to a simmer. You can now start adding your stock, soup ladle by soup ladle, stirring slowly. After the third ladle of stock, throw in the asparagus tips, broccoli, cabbage and leeks. Only add another ladle once the previous one has more or less been absorbed by the rice. This is usually every 45 seconds or so, but you can tell just by looking.
After about 18 minutes, taste your rice for bite. Good risotto should have bite, not be completely cooked to a mush, but the amount of bite is a purely personal taste. Keep adding stock until the rice has the right level of bite for you and the consistency is creamy but not runny and the rice slides off the back of your wooden spoon in a gloop.

Taste and season further if necessary. If you want cheese, stir some in just before serving. Eat in the company of a delicious man and a good movie.

Hung Parliament? Hung Weather... "Spring" Chicken and Chick Pea Casserole

It would seem the May weather is about as undecided as British voters and following the intriguing, confusing and generally messy general-election last Thursday and the ongoing bickering over who gets to to form a government today I thought it was as well to cook something warming and simple, unfussy, straightforward and pleasing in every sense. I know a casserole is hardly the stuff of spring lunchtimes, but frankly, it's colder than a witch's tit outside, the sky's as dense as Bisto and there's a good call for a meal based around chicken stock, the all-curing Jewish penicillin.

The key is all in the quality of the chicken, so go out and buy a good grain-fed, organic birdy, with nice corn-yellow flesh and a thick coating of fat. I prefer the thighs, wings and legs for making casserole as they all have considerably more flavour than the breast and the bones add substance to the broth too.

You'll need, for two:

four legs/thighs of free range, corn-fed, organic, super eco-friendly chicken
1 can of chick peas
3 carrots
fresh thyme
fresh parsley
two bay leaves
crushed black peppercorns
sea salt
one onion, finely diced
two-three cloves of garlic
olive oil

Equip yourself with a Le Creuset heavy-bottomed iron cast pan if you can, or any solid, serious looking deep casserole dish.
Cut incisions in the chicken and stuff them with fine slivers of garlic, then season generously with salt and pepper. Heat some oil in the pan, throw in the onions and let them soften. once this occurs, turn up the heat and place your chick in the pan to brown it, say about five minutes on each side. Toss in the thyme, parsley chopped up and the bay leaves and the remaining garlic cloves. Stir the lot to coat the chicken in all the oil and juices then pour over enough hot water to cover the chicken by about half an inch. Put on the lid and simmer for 40 minutes, checking once in a while to make sure the water hasn't boiled to nothing.

As you wait, peel and roughly chop the carrots and open the can of chickpeas. Once the chicken has been brewing for 40 minutes, add the chickpeas and a little of their water, and the carrots. Cover the pan again and simmer for another hour as low as possible. Taste the stock and season accordingly.

This is a meal that keeps on giving, you can keep simmering as long as you like, until the meat falls off the bone, but two hours is enough to make it tasty as hell if you can't wait any longer!



Serve with wild rice, or some new potatoes and lots of good bread to mop up the juice!

Tabbouleh - Moroccan Bulgar Wheat Salad

Day two of the new diet, I suddenly realise I can eat Tabbouleh, something I could gorge on until kingdom come and a perfect spring dish full of zest and fresh flavours! Based on bulgar wheat and parsley, the ideal proportions are 2 parts parsley to one part bulgar, but I need sustenance and am eating this as a main dish, so I've upped the quantity of bulgar wheat somewhat. You can play around and see which you prefer!

To make enough for four people:

2 cups bulgar wheat (or about 200g)

one massive bunch of flat leaf parsley

one bunch of fresh mint leaves

two lemons

a lime

olive oil

3-4 spring onions

1 red onion

1 fresh red chilli

box of cherry tomatoes or 4 fat tomatoes on the brink of going soft

salt and pepper

dash of cayenne pepper

First prepare the bulgar wheat. Add two parts boiling water to one part bulgar wheat. Cover and simmer gently until the bulgar has absorbed all the water. let it rest and cool down, then fluff up with a fork, like making couscous.

Whilst the bulgar wheat is simmering, chop your parsley, mint, onions, chilli and tomatoes into tiny bits. Mix together in a bowl with the lemon and lime juice and the olive oil. Add the bulgar wheat to this mixture in a large salad bowl. Season generously. Taste, add whatever you think is missing, especially if the mixture is too dry. Finish off with a spot of cayenne pepper. If you're not on a wheat free diet, serve with pita bread and my garlicky hummus for a spring meze...

The Bad News

For the last three months, I've been suffering what are most likely stress-related digestion problems. Without wanting to get too personal with everyone let's just say my life is currently unpleasantly full of little "surprise" moments and the kind of excruciating stomach pain I presume you usually associate with childbirth. And it ain't babies I'm giving birth to...

So, after fiddling with the self-medication counter at Boots to no avail, I turned to a nutritionist, or rather Naturopath at the John Bell and Croyden Pharmacy in London (a marvel if one can possibly get excited about pharmacies). She looked at my fingers, my tongue, my eyeballs and poked me in various parts of my body before declaring me essentially "worn out, unfit for service, exhausted and suffering from visible anxiety". Now this may have had something to do with narfing a scrumptious and huge burger at the Ebury wine bar about a half hour before hand, although I feel she has a point. I have not been good for a while, and I knew the bad news that was coming next as she started drawing up a diet plan to not only sort out my "hideous colon" but also my skin, my hair, my nails, my spine, my liver, my kidneys and, thank heavens, my karma.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the dreaded words have been uttered: No wine. No cheese. No dairy. No wheat. No alcohol of any kind. Ever. No excuses. Essentially, "Emma, why not just eat quinoa and soy for the rest of your life and die a miserable mess in the furthest reaches of gastronomic hell".

The sheet is taped to the fridge door. It's looking at me with a beady eye and a mirthful chuckle. Bastard.

Not even potatoes and tomatoes are allowed! Not even aubergines! What the hell is amaranth when it's at home? Burdock? Can I buy that in Sainsbury's? Lotus root? Thank god I moved to Brixton or I'd be wondering around Hurst Green hunting down obscure chinese herbal concoctions between the danish pastries and the economy cheddar.

So tonight begins the first no wheat, no dairy, no fun whatsoever meal. Oh and a plethora of pills worthy of a mafia drugs baron. My simple aim: Kick ass at this diet and emerge looking fabulous, feeling awesome, learning how to cook quinoa and eventually getting a job as my karma magically soars to astronomical heights! Hurrah! Oh, and perhaps avoiding any more surprises...

Garlic-Fest Hummus

I love garlic. Almost as much as cheese, in fact. Garlic makes the world taste better, it wards off vampires and it is good for your heart. What more do you want???

Plus, with garlic, you don't need to worry about kissing your French boyfriend/girlfriend as it's more than likely he/she loves the stuff too.

I also love hummus and if you have a blender, there is no reasonable excuse not to make your own hummus instead of buying that bland pap from the supermarket...

To knock up this stinker of a hummus, you'll need:

1 can chickpeas in salt water

3 tablespoons of tahini (sesame cream)

2 tablespoons of good olive oil

4-5 fat cloves of garlic

handful of pinenuts

pinch of paprika/dried chilli

handful of fresh coriander

bung the lot in a blender, press the "whizz" button until you achieve the consistency you prefer (I like it chunky, some like it smooove). If its too dry, add more tahini or olive oil, as you prefer.

Serve with toasted pitta bread, a plate of roast red peppers and some grilled aubergine and courgettes for a full dinner! Breathe on people for fun...

Fresh Egg Ravioli stuffed with Pumpkin

I dug out the pasta maker on day two in the new house and set about making my first batch of proper egg pasta. I nicked Jamie Oliver's recipe but tweaked it as he failed to mention one thing that makes stuffed pasta all the better... adding a teaspoon of milk for every egg you put in the mix makes your pasta much more malleable and smooth than it would be otherwise, especially useful when you are stuffing shapes and trying to stick the ends together!

For 4 people you will need.

250 g durum wheat flour

250 g semolina flour

3 eggs

8 egg yolks

8 teaspoons of milk.

Sift the flour together and pile onto your work surface then make a well in the centre. Put the eggs and yolks in the well, start beating gently with a fork to amalgamate the lot. Once you have a roughly sticky solidifying dough, dump the fork and start to work into a dough ball with your hands. Knead thoroughly until the ball is smooth and elastic and shiny.

Wrap in cling film and pop in the fridge whilst you prepare your stuffing (or just leave for 15-20 minutes until you're ready to cut into shapes).

For pumpkin stuffing you'll need:

1 quarter pumpkin

three fat cloves of garlic

1 bunch of flat leaf parsley, chopped roughly

a nice grassy olive oil

salt

pepper

veggie or chicken stock

Slice your pumpkin nice and thin and crush and chop your garlic. Heat a pan, add a good thick glop of oil and start to soften the garlic. Once translucent, add the pumpkin and coat evenly. Turn up the heat and fry for a couple of minutes, then add a bit of stock and simmer. Only add enough stock to stop the pumpkin burning, you don't want a soupy stuffing.

Be generous with the pepper, add salt to taste and throw in the chopped parsley towards the end. Mash the pumpkin up occasionally with a fork or wooden spoon until you have a pasty, smooth consistency. Take off the heat and transfer to a bowl to let it cool.

Get out the pasta maker, or equip yourself with a rolling pin! I start with the pasta maker on a low setting like 1-2 and feed small balls of dough through two or three times until it starts to become pliable and warm up. Gradually make the settings higher and higher until you have a sheet of pasta about 2 mm thin. Lay out your sheets of past, cut into squares. Add a spoon of stuffing in the centre of each pasta square, damp the edges of the square with milk and fold one corner over the other. At this point I recommend the following handy link for making pasta shapes, as I would be a disaster at explaining them without sounding like a poorly translated Ikea assembly booklet.

Stuffed pasta can keep in the fridge for a day or two, but frankly its more fun just to eat it as soon as possible! Boil some water, place the pasta in the boiling water for about 3-5 minutes depending how al dente you like it. Serve with a bit of melted butter in which you have fried some sage leaves.

Enjoy!