Spicy Toms Fish Compote

This is a nifty little tomato compote that can be whipped up with minimal effort and packs a punch for any roast fish dish.

You'll need (for three roast fish):

a box of small cherry tomatoes, pick the best you can it will make all the difference.
bunch of flat leaf parsley, chopped roughly
two huge cloves of garlic, chopped
tablespoon of capers
half a tin of anchovy fillets in olive oil, chopped
the olive oil from the anchovy tin
two or three small dried red chillies, depending on your tastes
sea salt
dribble of balsamic vinegar

slice the tomatoes in two and put in an oven-proof dish. Coat in the olive oil, add extra oil if you feel it needs it. Add all the other ingredients and stir the whole thing up. Pop in a hot over, gas mark 5, for about 40 minutes until the whole concoction has roasted to a bubbling tomatoey paste. Serve with roast fish and lemon wedges. Yumbles!

Polpo - aperitivo a go-go

Polpo touts itself as a Venetian bacaro in London. I've never been to Venice, so far be it for me to say how authentic it may or may not be, but frankly it looks just like an enoteca to me... It serves the Italian equivalent of tapas, "cicheti" the kind of small, taster dishes you'd find in any good wine bar in the major Italian cities.

The place is always buzzing, it's worth booking from Thursday to Saturday and don't expect to find a quiet table. The one truly authentic Italian element to this place is the noise level, and that's without the massive family christening parties with screaming babies.

I visited in the quieter hours after three, with a vague hangover that needed nursing. One Aperol spritz later and I was struggling to decide on only three dishes (these are hard economic times) from the menu as it frankly all sounds good.

I began with Spratti in Saor - marinated sprats in a citrussy, salty sauce served on small crostini. Gone in a flash, they whet my appetite perfectly. C. had the wild mushroom piadina, which was stuffed to the gills with a variety of funghi, although the bread was a touch chewy and dry.

For some reason that confounds me, I opted to follow with cotechino, essentially a type of sausage made from pork, fatback and pork rind, usually stuffed into a pig's trotter. I've yet to meet an Italian who eats this outside of New Year's eve where it is considered traditional and symbolic of good luck. It was probably since I'd missed out this New Year on my pig's trotter helping that I felt a twinge of nostalgia. It was, in fact, delicious. Nothing like the squidgy, boiled-to-misery salted mush I'm used to having in a drunken state towards midnight on the 31st, but delicate and handsomely flavoured with pine nuts and savoy cabbage and mustard.

C. had the pork belly, with radicchio and hazelnuts to balance out the sweetness and add bite. Equally tasty. 

The big mistake? The fritto misto. Not that it was bad, it was crispy enough and not terribly greasy. But after narfing through all the rest, the portion just didn't seem so small anymore and the squid, inevitably, had that rubber band texture that I couldn't really stomach after pig's feet and, yes, another Aperol spritz.

Neverthelss, between the two of us, we pretty much polished our plates. No sign of a venetian either in the kitchen or in the bar though, which made me wonder at the tenuous connection to the city of water... But the wine list told another tale, with a great selection of big and lesser-known northern Italian producers. Shame the hangover had me stuck on the Aperol, but I shall return to get my nashers round a Tocai soon...

Prices are around £3-£6  per dish, three dishes makes an ample meal.

Polpo

41 Beak Street 
London W1F 9SB. 
020 7734 4479.

The Celtic Connection - La P'tite Folie in Edinburgh

I may be a distant descendant of the Pictish warriors that made up Clan Gunn, and my mother might hail from the more insalubrious districts of Glasgow, but this couldn't stop the Jamieson family venturing as far as Scotland's capital only to wind up lunching in a Breton restaurant. There we were, falling over ourselves to impress the waiter with our gutteral "r" rolling, making those knowledgable grunts of satisfaction only fine connoisseurs can muster as we perused the wine list and freezing our backsides off as we'd been placed by the front door.

La P'tite Folie on Frederick Street is a small, intimate affair, but its airy high-ceilinged room means you don't feel you're sitting on your neighbour's lap. It bears enough gallic memorabilia on its walls to appear genuine rather than those "buy in a box" rustic Provençal places where you can barely take a step without bashing your head against a hanging empty wine flagon or low-flying Bayonne ham.

Dad ordered le steak frites, cooked "medium" - shudder! The meat was tasty and tender, despite being far too brown much for my liking (if it ain't still mooing, don't bring it to my table). The frites were nothing to write home about, but crispy and freshly made and overall perfectly satisfying.

I started with a mini steak tartare, topped with a quail's egg. It felt for a moment as if the sole purpose of a quail's existence on Earth was to provide eggs conveniently small enough to top miniature versions of this bistro classic. The meat was of excellent quality, with just enough chopped cornichons to add a bite but not overwhelm. The egg was just enough to soften the consistency and not transform the meat into beef mayonnaise.

I continued with haddock poached in white wine au beurre blanc. This was frankly a tad disappointing as the fish was clearly right off the boat that morning, but had been slightly overdone giving a rubbery quality that didn't match the smooth sauce. It was full of flavour however and well matched with the lemoniness of the beurre blanc. Potatoes and mange-tout accompanied the lot.

Mum got the pick of the bunch with her confit de canard poached in red wine, the meat was falling off the bones before she even picked up the fork and the punch of the wine enhanced the sweetness of the duck. The mussels she started with would have been more exciting with the garlic butter and toasty breadcrumbs they were supposed to come with, but that's what Weight watchers will do to you, make you deny the joyous sins of BEURRE in all its forms - mum shunned the garlicky normandy butter salé and the result was a bowl of acceptable, but tame Moules Marinières.

We washed the whole lot down with a bottle of Chilean Cabernet Sauvigon then proceeded to dessert. I had crème brulée which was good, but not more. Dad had a dubious looking mint sponge which I admit to not trying (funny how that damn small quail's egg tipped me over the edge of the cream/dairy/egg content of the day).

All in all the meal was proper french food the way I remember it, with not a whiff of phoniness, of trying too hard or with dodgy wall stencils of men in berets wheeling baguettes about on bicycles.

They also have a branch in the West End at Tudor House, with a slightly tweaked menu and an expansive wine bar for the pre-theatre crowd.

La P'tite Folie

0131 225 7983

61 Frederick Street

Edinburgh

0131 225 8678

Tudor House, 9 Randolph Place

Edinburgh

Rick and Treat in Padstein - Cornwall

Cornwall was a week of gastronomic bliss. Aside from discovering the delicious Mill House Inn at Trebarwith Strands near Tintagel (review coming soon!), we dined at one of Rick Stein's umpteen million establishments in and around Padstow, which, love him or hate him, have done nothing but bring money, tourism and a good sprucing up to this exquisite little village overlooking a sandy estuary dotted with sailing boats. We chose the Rick Stein Cafe, which is the lower-range priced offering, but still a proper restaurant. The place was informal, cosy and family-friendly with kids enjoying proper grown up food without the stuffy environment and hawk-eyed waiters. A small, shady garden outside can accomodate about 15 people. Despite the relaxed cafe feel, the menu is serious, making the most of local, ridiculously fresh fish and boasting cornish ales and cider alongside the wines. I started with the salt and pepper prawns which were crispy and spicy on the outside but soft, sweet and fleshy on the inside and although I licked my fingers profusely afterwards, it wasn't because they were oozing grease. The helping was generous for a starter, eight prawns for a price that usually sees you being served four. We continued with devilled mackerel which was absolutely divine. Mackerel is not a fish that has me slobbering at the gills, like, say a roast monkfish or chargrilled black bream, but this was popping with flavour simply because of how fresh it was and how unfussily it was prepared. Served with a bright red tomato and white onion salad I couldn't have asked for more. Francesco get his chops into a lather over a steaming bowl of grilled fillet of haddock with laksa noodles and sambal blachan, a malaysian condiment which contains a large amount of chillies and toasted shrimp paste which created a creamy smooth, sweet curry taste with a pungeant kick right at the end, perfect for fleshy, plump haddock. My wine was nothing spectacular, although I did order the cheapest thing off the menu. Francesco's local ale, produced up the road (by Rick Stein, of course!) was a far better choice, especially as he was having curry. Puddings came next. Francesco's profiteroles were sadly the one disappointment of the meal. Stodgy and sickly sweet they lacked the lightness of touch an experienced french chef might have brung to it. On the other end of the spectrum, my sunken chocolate cake with excellent cornish cream was the dessert equivalent of Mills and Boon sex. Had I been wearing one, my bodice may have ripped, both from the fat content and the shear excitement. All in all, we paid £53 for two for michelin-quality food in a bright, pretty cafe. Beats a pasty, I'm afraid to say.

This week Beau eats... Moules Marinières!

WOOF WOOF!

Ah, ladies and gentledogs! This week I bring you a classic favourite of mine which reminds me of my youth, holidays beachcombing in Brittany, hoovering crèpes and cider in cosy kennels up and down the Normandy coast. Moules are also an inevitable element in any trip to Brussels (some might argue the BEST reason for going to Belgium, beers aside...). Frites are a great accompaniment, as is good, fresh piping hot baguette or pungeant soda bread to dip in the sauce.
The best "Moules" I ever had were served to me on my last night in Dublin, after losing all my money and spending a night sleeping at Dublin airport. My friends and I scraped together the last remaining coins we had and headed back into the centre looking for a celebratory last meal and pint. The pub name escapes me, but it was near the Temple Bar, in the first year of the euro, before Dublin went hyper-crazy. The wiater brought us a steaming bucket of mussels, in white wine, garlic and fresh parsley with a chewy sourdough soda bread hunk and three creamy pints of the black stuff. With diddly-diddly music, the combined love of 35 drunken tourists and the warmth of the pub log fire, we nearly died and went to Moules heaven.

Here is the simplest recipe, for fool-proof Moules Marinières:

CLEAN YOUR MUSSELS (even better, buy them cleaned, or get the fishmonger to do it for you!)
-pull off the beard-like hairs sticking out from the mussels, and scrub them with a nail brush under running water.

Ingredients:

2 kg of fresh mussels
one fat clove of garlic
two shallots, chopped finely

2 large glasses of dry white wine
a big bunch of flat leaf parsely
freshly ground black pepper
large knob of salted butter

optional (but absolutely unnecessary): large dollop of crème fraiche or double cream

Method:

Heat the knob of butter in a large casserole ( we have a Le Creuset, only the best for hip dogs like me!).

When the butter starts to foam gently, throw in the garlic and shallots and the glass of white wine. Cook until the shallots soften and become translucent. Bring the whole lot to the boil and toss in the mussels, mix around to coat the mussels in all the juice. Cover and steam for 2-3 minutes, until the mussels open up. If any mussels haven't opened, throw them out, DO NOT force them open or eat them!!!

Strain the liquid and set aside, put the mussels into a serving dish.

Return the liquid to the pan, heat again and add the fresh parsley and if you really want, a dollop of double cream (mucho fatty and seafood snob dogs will look down upon you...)

Pour the liquid back over the mussels and bring to the table!

Serve with great bread or crispy, golden frites!

CHOW DOWN DOGGIES!

Trotta all'Acqua Pazza e funghi - Rainbow Trout all'Acqua Pazza with mushrooms

Cooking all'acqua pazza (literally crazy water) is very popular in trattorias and fish restaurants in Italy, and best suited to sea bass or sea bream, I am doing it with rainbow trout simply as a money-saving move, call it "credit crunch in crazy water"! By poaching the fish in the water, you retain all the moisture and the fish takes on all the flavours of the fresh basil and chilli peppers in the water. The sauce is great for mopping up afterwards with fresh bread, or a side of wild and long grain rice. 

The choice of adding mushrooms was inspired by chef Alberto at my friend's Mediterraneo restaurant in Rome. He served my friends and I a two kilo sea bass in acqua pazza with fresh porcini mushrooms, which just gave an edge to the sauce, making it richer and earthier which contrasted nicely with the fish. Being in Surrey right now, I do not sadly have great access to fresh porcini mushrooms, but we do have rather tasty, nutty British chestnut mushrooms so I added those to the mix. When getting the fishmonger to clean your fish or make fillets, always ask to keep heads, tails and anything else in a separate bag to make fish stock.

Ingredients (for 4):

4 rainbow trout/sea bream/sea bass - gutted and scaled. 

large bunch of cherry tomatoes or fat, red, mature tomatoes.

15-20 button mushrooms/chestnut mushrooms, or 5-6 porcini mushrooms.

fat bunch of fresh basil

fat bunch fresh flat leaf parsley

fat cloves of garlic to taste

2-3 dried bird's eye chillis

1 pint of fish stock

olive oil

salt and pepper

Method:

As ever, pour yourself a generous glass of white wine and stick on classic fm... Now. Whip out a large, deep frying pan, big enough to hold all your fish in it (you may have to cook them in two pans). I like the presentation of the whole fish, but if its easier, or you don't like your dinner looking at you, have the fish filleted. 

Salt and pepper the fish. Put the pan on the gas and pour in a tablespoon of olive oil. Crush your garlic cloves and smush up the dried chillis and cook them in the oil for a minute or two. Make sure the garlic doesn't brown, if it does, remove it form the oil with a slotted spoon. Add the mushrooms and slowly cook in the oil.

Chop up your tomatoes and the fresh herbs and plop those in the pan too, lowering the heat. Cook until the tomatoes start to go mushy. Now add your fish and seal on both sides. Pour over the heated fish stock, cover the whole lot with a lid or some aluminium foil and lower the heat to a slow simmer. Poach the fish about 10 minutes on each side.

To serve, remove the fish with a slotted spoon, arrange on the plate and cover with some tomatoes and mushrooms. Pour a generous glug of the stock over the fish and in the plate. Serve with rice, salad, or fresh crusty bread. And the white wine. If you haven't drunk it all already...

Oven Roast Sea Bream with Herbs

A quick and easy recipe for roasted sea bream. When you go to the fishmonger, check that the fish's eyes are shiny, that's a sign of very fresh fish. Have the fishmonger clean it and gut it for you. We got a 700 gram fish and it fed three people.




Ingredients:

- a sea bream
- two cloves of garlic
- a few small cherry tomatoes
- half a glass of white wine
- large handful fresh chopped parsley
-large handful fresh chopped sage

- generous sprinkle of thyme
- two bay leaves
- three ground cloves
- sea salt and black pepper to season
- olive oil

Preparation:

1. Cut three thin incisions into both sides of the fish.

2. coat the fish in a thin layer of olive oil.
3. Coat the fish with all the fresh herbs, the bay leaves and the ground cloves. Season generously.

4. Marinate in the herbs for about 2 hours, in the fridge.

5. Pre-heat your oven to 190 degrees centigrade.

6. Remove as many of the herbs as possible from the fish and keep them to one side.

7. Seal the fish in a very hot frying pan, two minutes on each side.

8. Place the fish in an oiled baking tin, adding a knob of butter if you like, but its not essential. Coat once again with the herbs, add the wine, throw in the cloves of garlic, slightly crushed and the chopped up cherry tomatoes.

9. Bake for 20/23 minutes depending on the size of the fish.

10. Remove and serve with roast potatoes, or brown rice, a good chilled white wine and garnished with fresh parsely and a wedge of lemon.

11. YUM!