Sardinia’s opal tinted waters that lap against the island’s crinkly coast are awash with bronzed Italian bodies and most excitingly, are wriggling with grey mullet. The history of Sardinia, the Mediterranean and these wriggling mullet is so intertwined that you could write a compelling anthropological thesis about their relationship that would reveal the island’s true character.
Sardinia’s location makes the island a sponge for outside influences. Over the centuries Sardinia has been invaded by the Vandals, the Byzantines, the Ostrogoths and the maritime republics of Genoa and Pisa as well as being inundated by Arab raids. It’s this influx of external influences that makes Sardinia’s food culture so interesting. A quick look at the culinary palimpsest shows what a strong influence Arab culture has had on Sardinia with the legacy of fregola and most interestingly, bottarga.
Bottarga (AKA Sardinian Caviar) is the preserved roe sac from grey mullet and tastes deeply savoury, super salty and very grown up. Just imagine a firmer, nuttier version of an anchovy. It is made by salting a mullet roe sac and then pressing it between two pieces of wood and air-drying it. When cured it is then covered in a layer of beeswax and sold for an extortionate price in flash delis all over the world. It gets its name from the Arabic batarekh and is found in various guises across the Middle East.
Like all seafood and Italian food it is at its best at its most simple. Just grate it onto a bowl of pasta that’s been doused in garlic infused-olive-oil and lemon zest and shower it in parsley and you will be eating the very essence of Sardinia.
We had a go at cooking an improvised version of spaghetti alla bottarga in our outdoor kitchen at Casa Teulada whilst we were in Sardinia and loved it so much that I made it my mission to recreate it properly back in my kitchen in Sweden. With a recipe from Mario Batali as a guide I put my waxy block of fishy gold to good use.
Ingredients:
Top quality spaghetti Bottarga Italian parsley Olive oil 2 cloves of garlic 1 lemon Chilli flakes Salt and pepper
Method:
Boil the pasta in salted water.
Meanwhile gently heat an indecent glug of olive oil in a cast iron pan and add the thinly sliced garlic and chilli flakes. You just want the garlic to warm through and lose its raw edge which will take no more than a few minutes. If you've got some bottarga powder as well as the roe, sprinkle some into the oil for a deeper flavour.
Then when the pasta is cooked use a claw and add the pasta to the garlicky oil. Flick in some of the magical pasta water and toss. Then serve in a bowl and sprinkle with finely chopped parsley, lemon zest and then triumphantly grate over a generous amount of bottarga. Make haste and serve pronto.
Washed down with an icy bottle of Vermentino, each forkful transports you back to the warm, breezy shores of Sardinia. This post has been entered into the Grantourismo HomeAway Holiday-Rentals travel blogging competition which you can read about here and on www.homeaway.co.uk For more information about bottarga and Sardinia have a look at these sites:
We spent an indecently brilliant week in South West Sardinia, staying in an utterly perfect apartment, soaking up sunshine like a roll of Bounty and gorging on food that was so fresh and irregularly shaped that it would have given a supermarket buyer an aneurism. We whiled away our days on sensational beaches and the evenings cooking the best food Sardinia’s lader had to offer on our patio.
You’d expect Sardinia to be obsessed with fish, but curiously it isn’t. Historically Sardinia is a land of hunters who stayed away from the coastline to avoid marauders and malaria whilst spearing wild boar and roasting a variety of animals over juniper wood fires. They are famous for their pork, lamb and goat rather than fancy fish dishes.
Isola di San Pietro, marooned off the industrial zone of Portovesme is a notable exception, given that it is often touted as being the home to the world’s best tuna. The island was named, apparently, after Saint Peter who landed there around AD46 to avoid some vicious baddies. He chose a good place to drop into because it is a stunning island that reminded us of a mini Monaco crossed with Havanna.
If you are fortunate enough to get stranded here, you must try their local specialties of tuna such as intestine and a type of ham like salt cured tuna fillet called mosciame which was a revelation. I had to erect a mini barrier to stop Cowie’s fork from infiltrating my plate! All of this tuna-mania is based on the ancient island ritual for catching the fish in enormous nets which bring the tuna into an a small harbour in Carloforte where the sea turns red as they club the tuna to death. It’s all pretty grim, but the tuna tastes amazing. The videos below show the complex series of nets that are placed meticulously to trap the fish… and then the second video shows the catch being landed and the sea turning red. It’s quite dramatic. Look out for a tuna that is the size of a small London flat. But if you’ve feeling squeamish, be warned…
Other Sardinian specialities include fregula – which is a sort of pasta version of couscous, bottarga – which is salted and dried mullet roe with a flavour that is reminiscent of anchovies and a very flat crisp bread called Pane Carasau – which is, bizarrely quite Scandinavian.
We only ate out once, so had the luxury of cooking with each other for the first time in months. We came back from Teulada’s well stocked market with our fingers almost bleeding from carrying bags full of ripe produce such as gorgeous peaches, melons that smelled indecently fresh and some pecorino that had to be taken away from me because I was nibbling it all the way home.
I’ve got a few recipes set aside for further posts including a cauliflower salad, fun with fregula and spaghetti with bottarga, so in the meantime, here’s a taste of some of the most pleasurable and simple meals of our year so far…
We quickly singed peaches, figs and apricots over the coals and provocatively draped them with hand carved local ham and were in awe of how good they were. It’s a sickening cliché, but when food is this fresh all treating it simply works best.
An amazing fish stew made by charring a range of Mediterranean vegetables over some very hot coals with grey mullet and a garlic tomato concoction.
A super fresh tomato, mozzarella and basil salad.
Fregula with charred Mediterranean vegetables and mussels.
Smokey aubergine dip with tapenade
Cauliflower salad with olives, sun dried tomatoes and chilli
Clearly, the Scallop Festival is big news. On a rainy weekend in late February, the quaint cobbled streets of Rye were wriggling with raincoats, walking sticks, rainbow umbrellas, antique experts and scallop eaters. The annual festival gives the town a much needed tourist boost in the bleak winter months and introduces newbie’s like Cowie and me to this delightful town.
When we found out about the festival we thought it would be an awesome idea for a romantic weekend. We stayed at the quite brilliant Simmons Guest House which didn’t put a foot wrong and gave us a luxurious base from which to explore the area. Their sense of style, charming hospitality and top notch breakfast make it the best bed and breakfast we have ever stayed in. Sally Shalam would love it.
We explored the wilderness around Dungeness and the delights of Rye’s backstreets including a hilarious lunch at a very old fashioned tea room called Fletcher’s where it seemed they operated a shoot on talk policy. We even found ourselves whispering our order to the waitress. Crab and tomato soup along with a crab sandwich were good but could have done with some aggressive seasoning to bring out the flavour of the crab. And some non-plastic bread for the sandwiches wouldn’t have gone amiss either. If you are a Trappist monk, or have a fetish for Shakespearean collaborators you’ll love it.
The George Inn is an impressive set up with a restaurant that is well regarded, a bar that is welcoming and rooms that look pretty slick. It’s even on Twitter and according to the Guardian is one of the top 10 cosy hotels to cuddle up in during winter. However, a large golfing society who had just played on Rye’s excellent links course, slightly warped our experience given that we couldn’t move for bow ties, pompous men and golfing bravado. Some people will enjoy its ‘country glam’ vibe, but give me Simmons any day.
We spent a memorable rainy afternoon roasting ourselves next to the Standard Inn’s comforting fires playing a 1983 edition of Trivial Pursuit and downing gallons of excellent Harvey’s bitter. The atmosphere was a great deal less geriatric than the rest of Rye and could almost pass for being lively. Their range of proper pub food, good beer, hot fires and collection of board games make this pub a bit a lot more than just standard. And better still it is directly opposite Simmons, so we only got moderately wet.
In many ways we are delighted that it rained so much. It meant we didn’t embark on a monster cycle through grotty Hastings and past the never ending caravan parks that sadly litter this stretch of coast; instead we enjoyed the luxury of Simmons, the comfort of Rye’s charming pubs and enough scallops at Webbes and The Ship Inn to jeopardise next year’s festival (posts on their way).
Swedish is a great language. Wherever you look signs say silly things like "fart". Apparently it translates as "speed" - and is often used in the context of slowing down. You'd have thought after seeing a dozen or so fart signs we'd have stopped giggling. But no. Instead it spurred us on to eat in a typical Swedish restaurant called Smaka.
If you had seen the look on my face when the world's best receptionist (at Hotel Flora if you are interested) told us to go to Smaka you'd have probably thought I'd just seen Jesus walk across a sea of miso soup.
We shuffled along to the restaurant along pavements so crunchy they should watch out for Cadbury’s lawyers suing them for an IP infringement. The roads were quieter than a mute in outerspace and the air was so frosty it would have made a penguin think twice about venturing outside of its log cabin.
The reception at Smaka was as warm as the artic air was chilly. Coats were taken. Greetings were offered. It was a genuine welcome from people who took care of us brilliantly from then on.
Tucked away in a corner like a couple of naughty students we huddled around the blow heater like Labour ministers around a life-raft and chose from the authentic Swedish menu.
Our starters were almost very good. Cowie’s salmon tartar was mildly too strong. And my venison carpaccio would have been good enough to make me emigrate had it not been overpowered by a few shards of the strongest onion to ever make it into my mouth. How the chef managed to slice it up without crying to death is beyond me. But whilst neither dish was epic – we enjoyed them with a bit of crafty plate work.
Our main courses were better. Cowie’s venison fillet was served with a fruity blood pudding and a regal blackcurrant sauce. It was magical. My flank steak would have been good had they not treated it as a sirloin and cooked it at a glacial pace. It was richly flavoured and well sauced, but would have been far better if it hadn’t made my jaw ache so much. Maybe I should have gone for their famous meatballs.
But it was the dessert that will remain with us. A cloudberry soufflé pretty much ordered itself off the menu. In the time Cowie had tricked me into thinking that there was a group of Swedish models at the bar it had disappeared and Cowie was grinning like a dog who’s just done a particularly naughty fart. Let’s just assume, for argument’s sake, that it was pretty bloody good!
Our meal at Smaka wasn’t perfect – but they made us feel special and served two dishes that make you forget about the foibles of the others. O. And it’s got a very funny name.
The Dingle peninsula in South West Ireland reminded me of Cape Town’s breathtakingly rugged beauty. The mountains run like a crocodile’s spiky-spine down the peninsula giving way to emerald seas on either side. And much like Cape Town the weather varies on either side of the ridge, depending on how fickle it’s feeling that particular day.
Dingle also shares Cape Town’s love of relaxation. There’s almost a Spanish feeling of “mañana” that glides into life here. Life in dingle is wonderful. The food is fantastic. The surfing is awesome. The golf courses almost unrivalled (but don’t tell a Scotsman). The only two things that are different from Cape Town are the extortionate costs and the weather. We've made this video to bring our experience to life...
Things to do in Dingle:
Go to Blasket Island. It’s the most westerly point in Europe apparently. And is uninhabited apart from a few prestigious sheep and a colony of very smelly seals who guard the coastline like a fleet of U-Boats. The scenery is staggering. It would make the most amazing place for either Blofeld’s hideout or a Mr and Mrs Smith shag-pad hotel. Just beware that the ferry costs a lot. But it’s worth it. It makes you realise why Blasket Island lamb is so special.
When you drive back along the Irish equivalent of the Big Sur, stop off for an amazing afternoon tea at an artist’s studio. She only opens when she feels like it so if you see the "open" sign propped up against the porch hit the brakes and dive in.
We were served delicious apple pie, wicked bread & butter pudding and scones with a pot of tea overlooking the most idyllic stretch of coastline you’ll ever find.
Go fishing in Dingle. The fishermen are very happy to take tourists out for a spot of fishing. We had a whale of a time catching mackerel, pollack, sand-eels, sea bass and pouting. Given my track record with a rod in my hands, I was very worried that I was going to reel in “Fungi the Dolphin” which would have had the residents of Dingle lining me up for a keel haul.
Not only did we get to take our impressive catch home with us, but our skipper also rapidly gutted them all as well.
We then drove back over the spectacular Connor Pass and barbecued our catch on the beach with plenty of salt and pepper and a squeeze of lemon. I’m convinced that fish doesn’t get any better than this.
Horse riding is very popular in the Cowie household and arguably even more popular in Dingle. Hacking across the wide open beaches, with the salty wind in your hair you can pretend you are training Red Rum for the Grand National. There are plenty of horse riding schools to choose from. Just take your pick.
If you are into hardcore endurance sport then sign up to the Dingle Triathlon. As a veteran triathlon spectator I can tell you that the setting for this one is charming. Participants swim across the bay before cycling into the hills and then run around the sand-dunes. It makes for a more natural experience than romping around Dorney Lake, Docklands or Blenheim Palace.
Go surfing. The beaches around Castlegregory never let surfers down. All you need to do is pitch up, grab a board and a wet suit and imagine you are Keanu Reaves in Point Break. It is the ideal way to spend a morning before heading to the pub for lunch.
God created Dingle specifically to be his golfing playground. Tralee and Ballybunion are two of the world’s best golf courses. And Waterville isn’t bad either! I played them many years ago and can’t wait to return to challenge the course record (for number of balls lost). This time we played at the Dingle Links which is a stiff challenge and at Castlegregory which is only a 9 hole course. Both are very good, but if anything the shorter course is better. If it was 18 holes it would be one of the best in Ireland. But I am delighted it isn’t because it was quiet and calm enough to teach Cowie on.
Lark around on the beach. The beaches flanking the Dingle Peninsula are staggeringly beautiful when the sun is out. The sun dances on the icy water and the sand seems to stetch all the way to America. Our dogs loved the open space whilst Cowie and I enjoyed foraging for mussels, hitting golf balls and playing cricket.
Tuck in
We had a very indulgent time but focused mainly on eating at home rather than splashing out on restaurants because the exchange rate is crippling.
We had an impressive meal at Paddy’s Cottage which far exceeded our modest expectations. It looks like a cross between someone’s house and a petrol station. But fortunately it boasts a galley manned by a Frenchman and his son with the wife looking after the diners. Warm duck salad and gratinated mussels were pretty decent to start with, but it was the “hake a la Grenobloise” that set the evening alight. The double cutlet of hake yielded perfectly to reveal pristine white flesh bound by an assertive lemon and caper sauce studded with softened croutons. I’m very keen to give it a go myself after learning the recipe from the young chef.
When you are in Dingle itself, you’ve got to go to Murphy’s Ice Cream and Dessert House. Their brown bread ice cream is to die for. And their waffles are worth living for, especially when slathered in chocolate sauce and ice cream. Arrive with a sugar low and leave with a hyperactive spring in your step gagging for more. We picked up a copy of their “Book of Sweet Things” which is a must have if you’ve got an ice cream maker.
If you don’t pay a visit to the fish and chip shop next to the spar then you owe yourself a serious dressing down. Their range of battered fish is one of the most impressive I’ve ever seen. And the quality of their fish and chips is worthy of a Michelin starred restaurant. My lightly smoked haddock and chips is the best I have ever had. And that list includes Aldbrough and Rick Stein.
If you’re feeling more flush then indulge in dinner at Out of the Blue which if the costs are anything to go by is something special. I've read several reviews which suggest it is one of Ireland's best restaurants.
Dingle also sports a fantastic fishmonger who sells live lobsters and an array of very fresh fish. We got our hands on some gorgeous scallops which were partnered for dinner by some exceptionally good black pudding from Annascaul. I wish you could get it in England. The monochrome marriage of Dingle’s finest black pudding and even finer scallops was magical.
Dingle offers everything you need for a relaxed family holiday. I can’t wait to explore more of Ireland in the future. Thanks to Murphy’s, Niahm and Toasted Special for giving us such great advice about where to go and where to eat.
Imagine a wind tunnel which serves fabulous sea food and is constantly sunny. Then sprinkle in some North African bustle, the waft of exotic spices and the occasional call to prayer and you’re mentally in Essaouira. If you enjoy watersports, then you’ll be in paradise.
Having devoured all the guide books and experienced the place for ourselves, we thought we’d share our experience which should help you plan your trip. This is the first video we've ever made... so we hope you like it and aren't too critical!
Where to stay:
We stayed at Riad Casa Lila which was moderately priced, friendly, helpful, very clean and the purveyors of a very superior breakfast served either on the terrace or balcony. I fell in love with their tomato and orange jams. The memory of the tomato jam is cemented in my mind due to me serendipitously reading about it in one of Elizabeth David’s tomes whilst slapping it onto one of their pillowy croissants.
Lowlights included the overcooked fish and hassle of the harbourside barbecue which I had hoped was going to be awesome and the worst fish soup I’ve ever eaten at an anonymous tourist trap in the main plaza. It was like eating cumin spiced glue.
Villa Maroc is regarded as setting the standard for traditional Essaouiran food. But you pay handsomely for it. After Five has its fans as well but unfortunately we didn't get a chance to eat there.
Where to enjoy a sundowner:
Taros was the best bar to enjoy a well made drink whilst the sun went down. Get there before the sun has started its rapid descent to avoid missing out on a spot on the terrace. Then enjoy some spiced olives as the harbour basks in the rose tinted evening glow. After Dark:
When the sun goes down you've eaten a belly full of tagine and dried fruit have a stroll around the night market and enjoy the multi sensual smorgasboard of stimulation. Just watch the semi-orchestrated chaos unfold around you and have your camera ready for some good snaps.
