Smoky Somerset Horsebit

When we woke up we could see our breath billow out of our mouths as if we’d swallowed a smoke machine. Our bedroom windows were so cold they had silvery ice on both sides. And the horses in the stables looked out past icicles. The clear sky had invited the frost to paint its early morning picture and had left the grass twinkling in the light and crackling underfoot. At times like this winter is my favourite season.

After a bowl of raisin strewn porridge and some super-strong coffee I set off for a bike ride around the exhaustingly beautiful Somerset hills as part of my training for July’s Antwerp Half Iron Man. On days like this, cycling for a few hours in the clear English countryside air is a joy rather than a chore.

After forty or so miles I was almost home and treated myself to a trip to Lagan’s Farm Shop where I picked up some vintage smoked Somerset cheddar before buying a rye sourdough loaf from the excellent bakery At the Chapel in Bruton.

On my final few miles, as my fingers started to go numb as I passed the local hunt charging around on their horses, I tossed aside the thought of a simple ploughman’s and decided instead, to give the humble Welsh Rarebit a Somerset twist. With the combination of gooey smoked cheese, morcilla, horseradish, mustard, an egg and good bread, this was so much more than just cheese on toast. This was a Smoky Somerset Horsebit.

Ingredients:

2 thick slices of sourdough rye bread
200g of smoked cheddar
1 egg
1 dessert spoon of horseradish cream
1 teaspoon of strong mustard
Some crumbled smoked sausage (such as morcilla or chorizo)

Method:

Cut the bread thickly and toast.

Grate the cheese and mix together with the egg. Stir the horseradish cream, mustard and crumbled sausage into the cheesy-egg mixture and slather on top of the toast.

Grill for 5 minutes until the cheese has melted is starting to brown.

Serve with some chutney and a cup of tea.

The smokiness of the cheese and the horseradish elevate this from being just cheese on toast, to being something that you’d happily cycle all morning for. And the horseradish is a great way of jolting your body and mind back into life. The morcilla is optional, but it does help to make this a bit richer and more satisfying.

Watercress Pesto with Fireplace Cooked T-Bone Steak and Polenta Chips

We spent an idyllic week in September eating fresh figs, amazing cheese and indecent prosciutto in Italy’s Le Marche region. Our swish villa came with a communal veggie patch which generously yielded the tastiest tomatoes that have ever entered my mouth – they made the extortionately priced Swedish tomatoes I’ve tried to avoid for the last year and a half taste of gravel by comparison. Mini aubergines, sweet little peppers and not so sweet chillies were there for us to tuck into as well.



But best of all was an orchard full of cherries, damsons, and most thrillingly, fig trees. Ripe, sticky, swollen figs seemed to make it into every meal: wrapped in prosciutto, baked with honey and doused in goats’ curd – each one, more delicious than the last. Fresh eggs from the very free range chickens kept our coats nice and glossy and super thin pizza from the wood fired oven was spectacular. It was a rustically gastronomic week of cooking for ourselves that featured a classic caponata and back to back evenings of chargrilled turbot on one night and barbecued sea bass the next – all served with the freshest salads imaginable.



If you are looking for an idyllic and quiet spot for a relaxing Italian break, look no further than Casal dei Fichi where Ian and Bob will look after you like rock stars and even hook you up with gastronomic events where you can make your own olive oil or go truffle hunting.

When we went back to Cowie’s parents’ house in Somerset, we wanted to continue our Italian adventure, but with local produce. We visited Kimbers' excellent Farm Shop where a fabulous T-Bone steak gave me the eye from the chiller cabinet. When you find yourself flirting with a piece of meat, you know it’s going to be good.

We then went to John Hurd’s Watercress farm in nearby Hill Deverill. They don’t normally deal with walk in customers and tend to sell their organic watercress direct to Waitrose by the lorry load. But Simon Hurd, very kindly, gave us a tour of the farm and told us all about the ins and outs of watercress farming. It was great to meet such a passionate chap, who was so knowledgeable and proud about his produce. I loved the fact he sprays his watercress with garlic solution which keeps the bugs at bay and that the peppery mustard oil taste is nature’s way of protecting itself from being eaten. Amazingly it contains more calcium than milk and more Vitamin C than oranges.

We left with a box of watercress, Simon’s infectious enthusiasm coursing through our veins and a recipe booklet that was full of fun suggestions, including the idea of making watercress pesto which sounded like the ideal accompaniment to our steak.

We kept things simple and decided to cook the Kimbers' T-Bone steak over the fire place and to serve it with polenta chips and an emerald green watercress pesto - as a way of rekindling our Italian memories.

Steak ingredients:

T Bone steak
Olive oil
Rock salt and pepper

Watercress pesto ingredients adapted from John Hurd’s recipe book:

1 bag of watercress
1 clove of garlic
1 tablespoon toasted pine nuts
1 tablespoon of toasted walnuts
50-75ml olive oil
50g finely grated fresh Parmesan cheese
Sea salt and black pepper

Method:



Make the watercress peso first. In a large bowl, blitz the watercress with a hand blender, then add the toasted nuts and garlic and blend them too. Add the olive oil and continue to blend into a luscious green paste. Add salt and pepper and then the parmesan. Mix together and taste for seasoning. Pour into a sterilised jar and store in the fridge until you need it.



For the polenta chips, simply make some polenta following the on pack instructions and let it cook until it has formed a creamy sludge. At this stage mix through some chopped rosemary. Pour this into a baking tray and allow to cool and set. When this has happened cut the polenta into chip sized chunks, douse in seasoning and olive oil and roast in a hot oven until crispy.





Season the steak handsomely with rock salt. A Brazilian friend (hey Marco) taught me to coat the meat extravagantly with salt when cooking it over a flame. It helps to form a crust and guarantees an amazingly tasty steak - just make sure you bash the salt off before serving. Grind over some pepper and get your fire nice and hot. We decided to cook the steak over Cowie’s open fireplace which has the benefit of getting super hot, and a built in extractor fan, otherwise known as a chimney.



Once the flames have died down, simply grill the meat over the coals until rare on the fillet side and medium rare on the sirloin side and leave to rest.

Carve the steak so you get a nice piece of sirloin and fillet and serve with watercress pesto, polenta chips and a watercress salad. The watercress pesto has a strong, peppery tang that marries perfectly with the bloody steak.

A "Fungathlon" Brunch: AKA Wild Mushrooms on Toast

We’ve all got traits that drive our other halves nuts. Some people leave the toilet seat up. Others are terrible washer-uppers. Some fail to ever take the bins out. Others fart in their sleep. Some snore. But the thing I do that drives Cowie nuts is to regard a run in the countryside as an opportunity to go mushroom foraging.

I’d like to think that I’ve invented a new sport called “Fungathlon” – where you have to complete a half marathon and also forage for mushrooms en-route. So when we were in the final stages of preparation for our Olympic Triathlon at Hever Castle and Cowie planned a 14 mile run for us around the gloriously undulating Longleat Estate, I saw it as a chance for some energetic foraging.

Cowie always sends me a map of our intended route to get my approval in the days before we go for a long run. I normally look at the hills and wince and then agree. But what she hasn’t realised until now is that I always check to see if we run through any woods. And if we don’t, I tend to suggest an alternative route that is more likely to yield mushrooms.

Within 50 metres of setting off we’d stumbled across a bank of chanterelles nestling in the undergrowth. Cowie ran on as I picked and inspected them. I wasn’t sure whether I should collect them and take them with me or whether I should just put down a marker so I could find them later. Common sense got the better of me and I spent the next mile catching up with Cowie who had forged on ahead.

As we ran, I dreaded someone else finding my stash of golden chanterelles. I was wracked with fear that a mushroom thief might strike. It spurred me on to run faster. Then after 10 miles, I spotted what looked like a cep winking at me from under some birch trees. Without thinking twice I vaulted a barbed wire fence and went foraging. Again, Cowie zoomed off, muttering something about “bloody mushrooms”.

As she ran off into the distance, I inspected what I thought was a cep. But I soon realised that it wasn’t quite the noble Karl Johan Svamp, but I had a strong suspicion it was an edible bolete of some sort. I quickly searched the surrounding area and found 4 or 5 more specimens, which I collected up and hid under a tree next to a discarded can of Coke with the hope that I’d be able to return later to pick them up.

I jumped back over the fence and sprinted down the hill to catch up with Cowie who was by now almost out of sight. It stuck me that this is actually an advanced form of interval training and in fact is the kind of thing they should recommend in Triathlon World magazine.

For the last 4 miles my head spun as I thought about what to cook with our haul of shrooms. I concocted mushroom and cider pates, mushroom ragus with polenta and mushroom soups in my mind as we closed in on the Bath Arms. I barely even noticed when we finished and was simply excited about picking up our mushrooms before any fungal bandit struck. We drove home via the mushroom drop zones and collected our haul which sat on my lap in the car with a reassuring covering of moss, twigs and excitable woodlouse.





We got home and, whilst Cowie showered, I checked the internet and my mushroom books to identify our collection and to check they were edible. It turned out that I was right about the chanterelles and that the boletes were in fact Birch Boletes which whilst not the very best, are regarded as being a tasty, if a little slimy.

By the time Cowie had returned from her shower I had cooked up my favourite mushroom brunch of the year. I simply sautéed the mushrooms and served them on sourdough toast from At the Chapel, in Bruton, and topped them with an egg yolk from Cowie’s hens which cooked in the residual heat of the mushrooms. And accompanied this with some invigorating watercress from John Hurd’s watercress farm which is just up the road.









It couldn’t have been more local. And it couldn’t have tasted any better. It was the most perfect brunch you could ever imagine. And left me beaming with delight for the rest of the day. It’s not often that you can combine fitness training, mushroom foraging and feasting all in one morning.

At the Chapel, Bruton, Somerset

Like a rural St John but with less offal, At the Chapel is a blessing in uber-rural Somerset. The space, designed by architects MacKenzie Wheeler, must be considered one of the best gastronomic amphitheatres in the country. The room is naturally well lit by biblically large windows and the high double ceiling gives the whole restaurant a feeling of grace. The ice white walls and ceiling are punctuated by impressive artistic statements. The hanging bubbles of Babylon and plaster cast of what Cowie accidentally called “Ham Solo” allow other pieces such as mosaic shoes by Candace Bahouth to be switched in and out like an art gallery. They also have plans to open their balcony area and a wonderful south facing patio. Co-owners Catherine Butler (ex Café Med owner) and Ahmed Sidki have done a brilliant job and have great plans for making even more out the space they have.





At the Chapel is not just a restaurant. It’s also a bakery, wine merchant, café and top class pizzeria all powered by an open range and a proper wood fired oven. And joy of joys has wifi.

Like a good food blogger, I’ve been to At the Chapel a number of times now in order to sample the various strings to their bow. When we are staying with Cowie’s parents in the neighbouring village we often buy a sourdough loaf and croissants for breakfast which have always been spectacularly good. And if we are feeling peckish in the afternoon we’ve been known to devour their slightly nutty, very naughty chocolate brownies. But Cowie still claims hers are better and who am I to disagree.



I’ve also bought a couple of interesting bottles of wine from their range that shuns the stereotypical selection of middle England Claret and Chablis. An Italian red that's made from 5 grape varieties from Calabria was a brilliant foil for a fire seared steak.



And on another occasion when we asked them for advice about making pizzas in Cassius (our clay pizza oven) they were immensely helpful – supplying us with semolina to add texture to the dough but also a pot of their sourdough starter. Many bakeries would have shooed us away but they appreciated our enthusiasm and helped us out. The pizzas that emerged from Cassius were some of the best ever.



I’ve dined alone here too at the coffee bar with a copy of the Observer spread before me like Wellington with a map of Belgium and marvelled at the texture, flavour and appearance of a bowl of exquisite white bean and chorizo soup.



And did my best not to wolf down an immaculate serving of liver, bacon and mashed potato which was almost perfect but for their not being a second helping!
But I haven’t wanted to write a review until I had also tried their pizzas. At £10 a go they aren’t exactly giving them away. And why should they when they are this good. The use of semolina in the sourdough gives the base a crunchy textures and makes you want to demolish the crust after you’ve inhaled the middle.



My chorizo and red pepper pizza was first class. The mozzarella spewed everywhere but wasn’t overloaded. And the chorizo itself added a richness that probably should come with a health warning or two.





A goats cheese pizza and a top class margherita confirmed they know what they are doing in the pizzeria department.

The only thing that lets them down is the lack of warmth from the service. Hellos, welcomes and goodbyes are hard to come by. Smiles fleeting. And service slow and frustrating. On one visit I waited 30 minutes for my soup. Got moved table twice. And witnessed several calamities such as a lady being burned by a coffee that had just come out of the machine and a walk out because of the slow service. If this had been a one off I wouldn’t have mentioned it. But it has been a recurring theme that detracts from At the Chapel deserving the near perfect score that Matthew Norman gave them. Just because you are in a Congregational chapel doesn’t mean you can’t relax. You are a smile and a hello away from perfection.

At the Chapel, High Street, Bruton, Somerset, BA10 0AE

01749 814 070

http://atthechapel.co.uk

At the Chapel (non review)

“It’s like a cross between Babington House and a lovely gastro-pub”

Bruton, Cowie's home town in Somerset, has sadly lost Bruton House. Gone to restaurant heaven whilst the owners go on a well earned holiday. In the Cowie household it was much revered as the smartest place in the area. But I never got a chance to give it a bash. I was invited for dinner with Cowie's granny once but it clashed savagely with the Rugby World Cup final. Cowie raved about it to the extent that I feel terrible to have missed out. Regrets.

But, sleepy old Bruton has been blessed with a surprisingly sexy alternative. At The Chapel is a charming, slick, contemporary beacon in the countryside. It has the look and feel of St John, with the pared down, very minimal black text on white approach. It's owned by Catherine Butler and Ahmed Sidki, who are residents of Bruton. In fact it seems the 17th century Methodist Chapel that the restaurant is housed in used to be their home! Catherine used to own Cafe Med and is backed up in the kitchen by Nick Brodie, who has come from, double Michelin starred, Bath Spa.

The set up includes a bakery and pizza oven, winestore, bar, cafe and restaurant. But it is the enormous oven that sets the rhythm of the venture. The architects, MacKenzie Wheeler, have brilliantly used the vast oven to create a warm, living, heart for the restaurant. Every night from 11pm till 4am their baker (who has been dubbed "French hip-hop baker Tito"), works his magic to produce some fantastic bread, most of it from sourdough starter. And then the oven is handed over to the pastry chef and then when it becomes day time the pizza guys take over. The nutty sourdough loaf we took home for lunch was sensational. It had that crusty outside and elastically fluffy centre that top class bread exudes. As well as a warm, natural smell.

Our chocolate brownie was so good that I ate all of it without giving Cowie a morsel. This didn't go down too well. And the only way out of the disaster was to tell Cowie that it wasn't as good as the brownies that she makes! Sorry Tito.



I also gave their winestore a bit of a test drive. I was after something pretty special to go with a fine piece of steak we had bought from Kimber's fantastic farm shop. Their wine chap (who I think was Matthew Hooberman - formerly of Soho House) gave me some very shrewd advice. He walked me through some classic French options but could sense that I wanted to be a bit more adventurous. He then presented me with a bottle of Italian red that's made from 5 grape varieties from Calabria. He mentioned that it is so unusual that he makes a point of talking to anyone who orders it in the restaurant. This had me hook line and sinker. And rightly so... it was the perfect match for our steak.



At The Chapel is such a find. Cowie and I are looking forward to trying it out properly. If their bread, brownies and red wine are anything to go for, we are in for a treat. I'm really surprised that there haven't been any national reviews yet. All in good time.

For more information read Fiona Sims article from Caterer and Hotel Keeper.

Somerset Nettle Soup

I remember my Mum once told me that nettles with flowers on them don't sting. So when I had a friend around I remember showing off and jumping into a vast clump of flowering nettles in my shorts and t-shirt to prove to them that nettles in bloom don't sting.

That was a lesson well learnt at an early age. What Mum had failed to mention was that she meant that nettles with white flowers don't sting. The ones with evil purple flowers prime time stingers!

So with trepidation, some very fetching gloves and 2 whippets Cowie and I went out nettle hunting... 4 cowpats later we had a Waitrose bag full to the brim with the tips of our nettles, ready to be sweated down and enjoyed.

We rinsed them, and removed any grass and grit. Meanwhile we sweated down and onion, a potato in some oil and butter and then added the nettles which wilted rather like spinach, albeit more slowly. When they were soft and gooey we added some chicken stock and left it all to simmer away.



David put the mixture in the blender and then passed it through a strange mangle like contraption that is designed for taking the pips out of jam and creating baby food which left us with very smooth nettle soup.



A dash of cream and some agressive seasoning yielded a very fine late spring soup.



Now I know why the Romans brought nettles with them from Italy!

The Spread Eagle, Stourton, Wiltshire

It was a blustery, cold Sunday afternoon but I was determined not to stay indoors curled up under the duvet all day. So Browny and I wrapped up in our winter woollies, put on our wellies and set off up to Alfred's Tower with my beloved whippets; Hector and Bella.



It was freezing, but fortunately the rain held off. We had a fabulous walk clambering through the woods for an hour or so. Hector and Bella whizzed about chasing squirrels while Browny foraged around in the undergrowth for mushrooms. It was great but we soon worked up an appetite and decided to reward ourselves with a trip to a trusty local.

The Spread Eagle is set in the magnificent surrounding of Stourhead House and Gardens. It is National Trust favourite and rightly so. As we walked in the landlord couldn't care less about our muddy boats and waterproof trousers. A proper country pub that caters for all walks of life. The bar area was filled with walkers, families, grannies, couples.. the works. The open fire was incredibly welcoming and as soon as I had ordered a local bitter and a bloody mary we settled in next to the open blaze.

To start we shared a delicious chicken liver and mushroom pate. Smooth, rich and extremely tasty with plenty of garlic for good measure. The gooseberry chutney was the perfect accompliment.



To follow I opted for a simple leek and potato soup to warm me up and keep my nasty cold at bay. It was fabulous; very comforting, tasty, well seasoned and not bland like so many classic soups. Bronwy was somewhat more adventurous and had a free range chicken leg with tities and veggies. It did what is said on the tin, filled a hole, but nothing to write home about.

Following lunch we simply sat nestled in our arm chairs letting the world go by with not a care in the world... it was great and what Sundays are all about.

If your going for the first time, you simply must take a walk around the gardens.. they are truly fabulous. The farm shop is also a winner!

Bruton House, Somerset

As a double birthday treat Granny decided she wanted to take the family and plus ones to Bruton House, a recently taken over restaurant in the heart of Bruton in Somerset. Having read some fantastic reviews we were all enormously excited, but equally rather sceptical that such a super place had suddenly arrived on our door step.



As we entered through the impressive royal blue doors into the reception area I immediately warmed to the place. Subtle lighting, charming staff, good smells from the kitchen, great Louis Armstrong burbling along in the back ground and lovely cream sofas to melt into.

While we sat in the reception and pondered over the inspired Winter menu we were offered some delightful little nibbles to wet the appetite; vast plump and juicy olives, homemade parsnips crisp and mini filo cones filled with ricotta and caviar. A great start.

We all struggled to decide our choices as everything sounded delectable! However, the madre dee was fantastic. She gave a comprehensive low down about everything on the menu and this prevented me from doing my usual of asking endless questions about this and that!

The dinning area was superb; good layout, soft subtle lighting, crisp table clothes; it all complimented the beautiful features of the building including the magnificent stone fire place and old beams. The service throughout the evening was fantastic.. things just happened or simply appeared in front of you.

Now I always get very excited when a small spoon is placed in front of me, especially when I know it has nothing to do with my starter! Our amuse bouch for the evening was an exquisite lobster bisque in a shot glass with an inch thick foam on top. We were all seriously impressed with this. It effortlessly slipped down ones throat with its velvet texture and offered a wonderful depth of flavour.

Then came the starters. Dad and I went for a cracker: Dorset crab, grapefruit and cucumber salad. It was beautiful to look at, light in texture and the mix of flavours exposed in your month. First the rich crab, followed by the zing of the grapefruit and finally the cucumber jelly cleansed the pallet. A 1st class dish. The scallops looked spectacular, but it was pretty hefty having 3 whopping scallops, cauliflower cheeses and pastry. Delicious, but all abit much.

I do love abit of fish but decided on this occasion I was totally sold by the meat dishes on the menu: Wild rabbit with pancetta, ravioli and consommé, Roast grouse with traditional accompaniments, Roasted loin of lamb, tomato cous-cous and kidneys and Seared Dexter beef sirloin with bourguinon sauce and girolles. As you can see.. what a choice! I opted for the lamb and was not in the slightest bit disappointed. Perfectly cooked pink meat, the kidneys added a pleasing kick to the dish but didn't over power it and the mildly spiced / fragrant couscous was the perfect compliment. The others all gave positive reports, especially from mum who had the grouse.

There was no question about whether or not we were having puddings; apricot crumble souffle with apricot sorbet was an absolute must. It was simply incredible. In short it was definitely the best souffle I have ever had!

We had such a super evening and I will definitely be going back. Bruton House offers effortless charm, discrete elegance and bloody brilliant food. Ideal for a celebration or a romantic dinner. The only slight hiccup about the evening was that we were booked in for dinner at 8pm on 22nd Oct... yes, a bad clash with Rugby World Cup Final... and hence Brownys absence on this occasion!

Bruton Summer Fete

How good was today's summer fete in Bruton? My big boss Patrick, who has a house in Bruton, asked a few weeks ago when the Bruton fete was... Cowie asked her hairdresser and hey presto we were booked in to scout out the famous Bruton Summer Fete...

Victoria went last year and dismissed it this morning as being OK, but nothing special unless you like Morris dancers and throwing sponges at people in stocks. She stayed at home tending to her geraniums.

When we arrived in Bruton, rain pissing down and making all the cows look unhappy, we were bowled over by the number of people scurrying around in their water proof coats. Normally when you go into Bruton you see about 4 people if you're lucky. Hippies everywhere. Insense making my nostrils sting. Colourful jewellery being hawked by keen young girls. Local charity tombolas. All set next to a tranquil, muddy brown steam cutting between the dignified stone walls of Kings Bruton School.

We were enormously impressed by the number of really exciting foodie stalls. Thorner's butchers have supplied me with my supper this evening - a beautifully tender veal rib eye steak which I am planning to sear for a fraction of a second on a super heated grill pan. Cowie had a Sweet Dreams smoothie, smoothified by a bicycle powered blender! Hippie power!

For more on how to make a Bicycle Blender visit the Make site here.



I can't receommend the Bruton Fete enough. It ticks all the foodie boxes: organic, low food miles, local, tasty, democratised, fun! I'm now eagerly looking forward to next years.