I have been quite bad (very bad is reserved for very special occasions) and not released the review of Hwsgo's Braised Endives yet. This is partly system rebuild (the photos are elsewhere) and partly a wrestling with my conscience about whether I could claim a Simon that someone else (albeit someone very close) cooked. So this is a review, right, unless I get down the wire with the 'how many Simons did I manage to cook in 2 years (note the more relaxed timetabling slipping in there)' thing.
Hwsgo braised the endives (and has done so at least twice since, which is possibly a good measure of how good the recipe is) at the same time as grilling some nice fat Cornish sardines, neither of which took an excessive amount of time (less than half an hour). It was truly excellent and classic Simon: rich and comforting, with enough sauce to enjoy again with bread at the end of the meal. Oh, you wanted me to review the food? Later...
Monday 26 May 2008
Saturday 17 May 2008
One good, one bad, all shellfish
Well I did manage to have a bad meal in Philadelphia: an oyster plate at Pearl's Oyster bar in Reading Market. Where do I start... well, it's a plate. With oysters and fries and coleslaw and two little pots of relish. But the oysters are in batter: not light, floaty, enhance-the-taste tempura, but the sort of batter usually found round a 3am fried and anonymous piece of chicken: heavy, nasty, cloying. And the oysters? There are fish stands in the market with lovely lovely fresh fish in them, all full glassy eyes and taut shimmering tails. These oysters didn't taste that way. Although that may have had something to do with the strange slimy green sauce that they were each wrapped around. I had coffee with this; the cheque arrived on my table before I could even think of asking for a second cup. Think I didn't enjoy this? Let's talk about the other seafood...
...The Imperial Inn in Chinatown. I wandered in quite late, alone, and was amused to be ushered past all the big circular tables and gilded decor into a singles, locals and other sad folks room. Which was really rather jolly: I had a table with a prime view of a Chinese news channel (earthquake pictures very sobering over dinner) and the lady who was really in charge doing the accounts and being properly fussed over. As was I. As soon as I sat down and started thinking about my order, a glass of ice water, a pot of chinese tea and some nibbles (some form of chinese cheese straws as far as I could tell) and sauces appeared, although it's only fair to warn you that the yellow sauce with the nibbles is in fact very hot mustard and not a sweet mango relish as I'd supposed. So repressing the urge to order something smaller, I decided to try the pork dim sum and the mixed seafood-and-other-stuff (chicken, pork, vegetables) sizzling plate. And a beer: which arrived, as asked and requested, with the main meal; not a moment sooner, not a moment later. Which given it was a very drinkable pot of tea suited me just nicely. The dim sun: cheap, hot and four of them: looked hand-made, tasted authentic (as in would be perfectly acceptable in Wing Wah's in Birmingham: that's an accolade, btw). The sizzling plate: delicious (and came with rice: no "do you want anything with that madam", just a sensible bowl of proper sticky rice) , with big fat fried prawns (light tempura) and some other battered seafood that was firm, tasty and had just the right amount of bounce to it. Now Imperial managed that well as part of a much more complex dish: why couldn't Pearl's?
I ended with the water and a fortune cookie. "You are a person of strong sense of duty". Hmmm.
...The Imperial Inn in Chinatown. I wandered in quite late, alone, and was amused to be ushered past all the big circular tables and gilded decor into a singles, locals and other sad folks room. Which was really rather jolly: I had a table with a prime view of a Chinese news channel (earthquake pictures very sobering over dinner) and the lady who was really in charge doing the accounts and being properly fussed over. As was I. As soon as I sat down and started thinking about my order, a glass of ice water, a pot of chinese tea and some nibbles (some form of chinese cheese straws as far as I could tell) and sauces appeared, although it's only fair to warn you that the yellow sauce with the nibbles is in fact very hot mustard and not a sweet mango relish as I'd supposed. So repressing the urge to order something smaller, I decided to try the pork dim sum and the mixed seafood-and-other-stuff (chicken, pork, vegetables) sizzling plate. And a beer: which arrived, as asked and requested, with the main meal; not a moment sooner, not a moment later. Which given it was a very drinkable pot of tea suited me just nicely. The dim sun: cheap, hot and four of them: looked hand-made, tasted authentic (as in would be perfectly acceptable in Wing Wah's in Birmingham: that's an accolade, btw). The sizzling plate: delicious (and came with rice: no "do you want anything with that madam", just a sensible bowl of proper sticky rice) , with big fat fried prawns (light tempura) and some other battered seafood that was firm, tasty and had just the right amount of bounce to it. Now Imperial managed that well as part of a much more complex dish: why couldn't Pearl's?
I ended with the water and a fortune cookie. "You are a person of strong sense of duty". Hmmm.
Wednesday 14 May 2008
Philled me up
Hanging out in Philadelphia for a few days, and I haven't managed to have a bad meal here yet. Which is something of a record: either I'm getting very very good at choosing where to eat, or this place is a genuine foodie hotspot that I hadn't noticed before.
Case in point: Reading Terminal Market. I'm staying a block away, so it seemed silly not to try eating there at least once. Although I was only going out to get some more coffee from WaWas (24oz cups of decent filter coffee: one of the things that the US does well), it was close enough to lunchtime to drop in for something to eat at the oyster bar. Except. Except. I thought I'd have a walk around the market stalls first. And found Greek, Mexican, seafood, French bakeries, Chinese, Italian, Thai and sushi restaurants, all looking good, all deeply tempting. And then I was saved: the one thing I'd been hoping to try on this trip hove into view, and I ended up eating big plump blueberry pancakes with bacon at one of the Amish cafes. And I mean Amish, not some pastiche of 'Amish-style food' and low-paid girls in suitably ethnic frocks. I think they're used to that cultural pause/ intake of breath when someone rounds the corner and meets them for the first time (yes, reader, even I the seasoned liberal and traveller have cultural pauses sometimes) : the zip-free lass who served me in the Dutch Eating Place just grinned at me, got me some coffee and gave me a minute to get my bearings. Darned good pancakes, good enough that I may have to find a lower-fat route to the coffee next time.
Other places tried this trip: El Vez (great mexican presented in a modern european style; I think: it's a little difficult to tell past the haze of the blood orange and pomegranite margueritas), Marathon grill (damn fine quesadillas in all flavours, and more biiig cups of coffee), Capo Giro (Italian ice cream; highly rated icecreams online, but disappointing in reality apart from the stunningly good dark chocolate flavour), Mosulu (great setting on a schooner, but the chef, although good, seems unconfident, covering way too many of the dishes with over-sweet flavours) and the Caribou Cafe (I know where all the good French food has gone now. It's not in France anymore; it's hiding out in Pennsylvania. No problems getting a table-for-one inside on a busy day or turning up mid-afternoon for lunch; great food, and very moreish sourdough with it). I'm staying near Chinatown, but with this much choice, Chinese, even the sort of Chinese that sees queen conch as a staple food ingredient, just isn't tempting me at the moment. And more problematically I may also finally be full: tonight may just be a staying inside with a bag full of low-fat soy crisps (Glennys, cheddar flavour) sort of night. And maybe some more coffee.
Case in point: Reading Terminal Market. I'm staying a block away, so it seemed silly not to try eating there at least once. Although I was only going out to get some more coffee from WaWas (24oz cups of decent filter coffee: one of the things that the US does well), it was close enough to lunchtime to drop in for something to eat at the oyster bar. Except. Except. I thought I'd have a walk around the market stalls first. And found Greek, Mexican, seafood, French bakeries, Chinese, Italian, Thai and sushi restaurants, all looking good, all deeply tempting. And then I was saved: the one thing I'd been hoping to try on this trip hove into view, and I ended up eating big plump blueberry pancakes with bacon at one of the Amish cafes. And I mean Amish, not some pastiche of 'Amish-style food' and low-paid girls in suitably ethnic frocks. I think they're used to that cultural pause/ intake of breath when someone rounds the corner and meets them for the first time (yes, reader, even I the seasoned liberal and traveller have cultural pauses sometimes) : the zip-free lass who served me in the Dutch Eating Place just grinned at me, got me some coffee and gave me a minute to get my bearings. Darned good pancakes, good enough that I may have to find a lower-fat route to the coffee next time.
Other places tried this trip: El Vez (great mexican presented in a modern european style; I think: it's a little difficult to tell past the haze of the blood orange and pomegranite margueritas), Marathon grill (damn fine quesadillas in all flavours, and more biiig cups of coffee), Capo Giro (Italian ice cream; highly rated icecreams online, but disappointing in reality apart from the stunningly good dark chocolate flavour), Mosulu (great setting on a schooner, but the chef, although good, seems unconfident, covering way too many of the dishes with over-sweet flavours) and the Caribou Cafe (I know where all the good French food has gone now. It's not in France anymore; it's hiding out in Pennsylvania. No problems getting a table-for-one inside on a busy day or turning up mid-afternoon for lunch; great food, and very moreish sourdough with it). I'm staying near Chinatown, but with this much choice, Chinese, even the sort of Chinese that sees queen conch as a staple food ingredient, just isn't tempting me at the moment. And more problematically I may also finally be full: tonight may just be a staying inside with a bag full of low-fat soy crisps (Glennys, cheddar flavour) sort of night. And maybe some more coffee.
Friday 9 May 2008
1 Recipe: Basque Chiorro (Page 105)
It's a hot summers day, the kind of day that makes men get a haircut and fight to get a space at the supermarket, for the british dreams of beer and barbeques to begin. But not here, oh no. We're going to do a Simon. Today. Albeit one that can eaten on a sultry evening with cold beer and conversation.
So. First problem. The recipe is for hake. And no hake is to be found; the curse of visiting the fish counter on Fridays ("yes, we had some earlier but it's gone") strikes again. But it suggests cod as an alternative, so line-caught, earth-friendly cod it is. The other problem is the wine. The recipe suggests 2 glasses of red wine. But it doesn't say which red wine. So off down the wine aisle to look at not-terrible-because-I'll-have-to-drink-it but not-too-good-because-I'll-cry-cooking-with-it. The result: a 2005 Altos de Tamaron, complete with a 2007 silver from the Challenge International du Vin (cheap trick: if you're in France and know nothing about wine, head for the medal winners; it's a 1"ish gold silver or bronze circle pasted onto the bottle; Paris or regionals are usually good, and silver is usually worth a punt). I'll see how it goes. Smells quite fruity anyways.
Oh, and man does this recipe have a lot of garlic in it. 2 tablespoons of; Simon might as well have said "a small bulb" in the recipe and have done. Still, it's interesting to be using mace in a recipe (I got powdered, not realising quite how small a 'pinch' was) and the hot paprika that I bought by accidental finally found a use. Although I may have to make quite a lot of this recipe before I get through the whole tin of it.
I also treated myself to my wine of the month. A Marques de Murrieta Ygay (Gran Reserva 2000). Probably not the right wine for this dish (although Spanish and Spanish - whoops, I mean Basque- could work), but I'll see what Hwngo thinks. If indeed after the journey from heck (delayed flight, hot day) he's still capable of thought.
I've tried a little of the Altos de Tamaron. I have a cold, but I can still taste serious amounts of blackcurrants in it. I may possibly have bought Ribena by mistake. And it has a bit of a vicious backtaste to it, so perhaps more cough medicine than Ribena. But it's quite nice all the same. Although I'd be very careful what I'd put it with (wimpy food, no) it could be quite fun to feed to friends.
So. First problem. The recipe is for hake. And no hake is to be found; the curse of visiting the fish counter on Fridays ("yes, we had some earlier but it's gone") strikes again. But it suggests cod as an alternative, so line-caught, earth-friendly cod it is. The other problem is the wine. The recipe suggests 2 glasses of red wine. But it doesn't say which red wine. So off down the wine aisle to look at not-terrible-because-I'll-have-to-drink-it but not-too-good-because-I'll-cry-cooking-with-it. The result: a 2005 Altos de Tamaron, complete with a 2007 silver from the Challenge International du Vin (cheap trick: if you're in France and know nothing about wine, head for the medal winners; it's a 1"ish gold silver or bronze circle pasted onto the bottle; Paris or regionals are usually good, and silver is usually worth a punt). I'll see how it goes. Smells quite fruity anyways.
Oh, and man does this recipe have a lot of garlic in it. 2 tablespoons of; Simon might as well have said "a small bulb" in the recipe and have done. Still, it's interesting to be using mace in a recipe (I got powdered, not realising quite how small a 'pinch' was) and the hot paprika that I bought by accidental finally found a use. Although I may have to make quite a lot of this recipe before I get through the whole tin of it.
I also treated myself to my wine of the month. A Marques de Murrieta Ygay (Gran Reserva 2000). Probably not the right wine for this dish (although Spanish and Spanish - whoops, I mean Basque- could work), but I'll see what Hwngo thinks. If indeed after the journey from heck (delayed flight, hot day) he's still capable of thought.
I've tried a little of the Altos de Tamaron. I have a cold, but I can still taste serious amounts of blackcurrants in it. I may possibly have bought Ribena by mistake. And it has a bit of a vicious backtaste to it, so perhaps more cough medicine than Ribena. But it's quite nice all the same. Although I'd be very careful what I'd put it with (wimpy food, no) it could be quite fun to feed to friends.
Wednesday 7 May 2008
Oh Dear
The standards in this household have been slipping dramatically. A few days of hack-coding, and I'm back to techie-food, which consists mainly of. Erm. Coffee. With side-helpings of anything else that can be eaten with minimal preparation and interference with the typing fingers. Like ice-cream. Nuts. Random items from the cupboards. Beer. And more coffee.
Honestly, I must get a grip. Recuperating is no excuse for this. Being gripped by a need to fully understand all the java map classes is no excuse either. And nor is musing on the fineness of the ethical line between search and suggestion. No. I need to do a Simon. Soonas. That, and go to the gym. Just as soon as I've finished this code snippet...
Honestly, I must get a grip. Recuperating is no excuse for this. Being gripped by a need to fully understand all the java map classes is no excuse either. And nor is musing on the fineness of the ethical line between search and suggestion. No. I need to do a Simon. Soonas. That, and go to the gym. Just as soon as I've finished this code snippet...
Friday 2 May 2008
57 whats, exactly?
Just back from a wild night out -erm, mainly spent sitting in train stations actually, but a lightning strike on the signalling system must take a while to sort out- and whilst I was finishing off the last of the risotto (so I wouldn't have to admit to dinner being a chicken sandwich and a bag of crisps) my eyes alighted on a tin of Heinz tomato soup (I'm so virtuous -cough- it was recently cleaned and about to go into the recycling) , and more specifically the little "57" on it.
Now almost everyone who's ever eaten baked beans knows about Heinz's 57 varieties. But have you ever thought how odd that is? It's a very old slogan, back from the times when there were only 5 types of tinned soup (or at least it seemed that way), but yet this company that I can only remember selling soup, baked beans and possibly some form of spaghetti hoops had 57 -count them- different varieties on their books. Now that is one heck of a set of variations on "tomato", and one that I (not too drunkenly) feel the need to investigate a little further. And heck, it's *my* blog...
Cooo.... wikipedia's entry on the 57 dates it back to 1892, when Heinz had more than 60 products but liked the number '57' lots. So what were they? I have some of the list: plum pudding, strawberry preserve, india relish, olive oil, spaghetti, euchred pickle (is that one that knows how to play cards?), currant jelly, chilli sauce, peanut butter, celery soup, horseradish, sauerkraut, vinegar, tomato ketchup, red pepper sauce, green pepper sauce, cider vinegar, apple butter, mincemeat, mustard, tomato soup, olives, pickled onions, pickled cauliflower, baked beans, sweet pickle. Looks a little like the base list for my own cupboards now. Except I'm a little light on the apple butter stuff. Sadly, despite my best search efforts, this is as big a list of 1892 varieties as I can assemble without seriously bugging the Heinz historians. Perhaps I will. Or perhaps tomorrow will bring a new and equally interesting question into my life. Who knows?
Oh, and I went to the gym today. Bodypump followed by pilates. Two (count them) sets of push-ups and planks. I confidently expect this to be the last time I can get my hands close enough together to type with both of them at the same time for quite some time... I can already feel the beer wearing off and my shoulders starting to stiffen towards useless. Goodnight.
Now almost everyone who's ever eaten baked beans knows about Heinz's 57 varieties. But have you ever thought how odd that is? It's a very old slogan, back from the times when there were only 5 types of tinned soup (or at least it seemed that way), but yet this company that I can only remember selling soup, baked beans and possibly some form of spaghetti hoops had 57 -count them- different varieties on their books. Now that is one heck of a set of variations on "tomato", and one that I (not too drunkenly) feel the need to investigate a little further. And heck, it's *my* blog...
Cooo.... wikipedia's entry on the 57 dates it back to 1892, when Heinz had more than 60 products but liked the number '57' lots. So what were they? I have some of the list: plum pudding, strawberry preserve, india relish, olive oil, spaghetti, euchred pickle (is that one that knows how to play cards?), currant jelly, chilli sauce, peanut butter, celery soup, horseradish, sauerkraut, vinegar, tomato ketchup, red pepper sauce, green pepper sauce, cider vinegar, apple butter, mincemeat, mustard, tomato soup, olives, pickled onions, pickled cauliflower, baked beans, sweet pickle. Looks a little like the base list for my own cupboards now. Except I'm a little light on the apple butter stuff. Sadly, despite my best search efforts, this is as big a list of 1892 varieties as I can assemble without seriously bugging the Heinz historians. Perhaps I will. Or perhaps tomorrow will bring a new and equally interesting question into my life. Who knows?
Oh, and I went to the gym today. Bodypump followed by pilates. Two (count them) sets of push-ups and planks. I confidently expect this to be the last time I can get my hands close enough together to type with both of them at the same time for quite some time... I can already feel the beer wearing off and my shoulders starting to stiffen towards useless. Goodnight.
Thursday 1 May 2008
Comfort Food
My comfort foods have changed over time. Once it was an omelette or beans on toast or rice pudding; now it's risotto. I have a panful on the go at the moment, getting ready for work this afternoon, and I suddenly realised that I've made quite a lot of it of late. It may be association; every time I make risotto, I have this memory of Hwngo patiently showing me how to cook it just after we'd met. Or it may be the process; the physical act of stopping everything for 20 minutes just to tend to my pan of rice. Whichever it is, it's comforting. And -ahem- somewhat fattening, but I'm not going to go there today.
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