Etxebarri

Cloaked in smoke. Revered for its authenticity. Famed for it’s charcoal scented beef. Etxebarri is ahead of its time. And wonderfully behind the times. Wedged in the mountains above Bilboa it’s a beacon of gastronomy in a village where time doesn’t just stand still, but runs still.

It’s hard to describe how beautiful the setting is. This photo gives you a glimpse. But doesn’t do it justice. Having driven through the industrialised valleys out of Bilboa, the hills around Etxebarri are an Elysian Alpine Meadow of dramatic and humbling views.

Etxebarri has been at the top of our list for years. Sure, we’ve wanted to eat at other fancy restaurants, but this is different. It’s iconic. It’s a one of a kind. Smokey. Authentic. Victor Arguinzoniz runs it with exquisite skill and startling affinity to the ingredients from the area and taste. Whilst other smart, progressive restaurants are all exciting, it’s Etxebarri that has stood above - wooing us via sending smoke signals.

Much like eating at El Bulli – this was a seminal experience. With each course building on the last. Sure, there were a couple of courses which weren’t as exciting, but the majority were immense. Here are the highlights.

Freshly made, rare (almost raw) smoked chorizo was one of the very best things I’ve ever eaten. It is also probably the least pregnancy friendly thing you’ll ever come across – apart from maybe sushi from xxxx. It had the soft texture of beef tartar. But with layers of smoky sweetness and a punch of chilli. It would make for an excellent starter for your final meal on death row.

Wild mushrooms with artichoke hearts was another smoky delight. Lighter in flavour and texture than the chorizo, it had an earthy, woody sweetness that was offset by a very fresh vinaigrette. I had been expecting bit hits of smoke, but the smoke was used far more subtly as a flavour enhancer.

A single oyster, smoked and re-housed back inside its shell was sublime. I can imagine it would have been easy to have lost the texture of the oyster – for it to have been turned into mush. But no. It was delicious.

Then came another highlight. Two enormous prawns. Wow. This was massive. The flavour smashed like an Evander Holyfield punch and kept on hitting. And biting. And nibbling. Messy. My heart missed a few beats. And my breath quickened. These enormous, juicy prawns had been given the best send off you can possibly imagine. Biting into the heads was like creating your own crab bisque. But better. I can taste it all now, just writing about it. It’s worth the price of the menu on its own. And the airfare. And the car hire too. I love that they weren’t messed around with. No dipping sauce. No lemon. No herbs. No garnish. Just. Two. Perfect. Prawns. Cooked over coals.

Tiny octopus were served with a slick of their own ink and a sweet and sour chutney. If it hadn’t been for the prawns I’d be waxing hysterically lyrical about them. Again, the smoke was subtle, but there. Giving them an ethereal tang that enhanced their natural flavour.

Scrambled egg with black truffles was another heart racer. It reminded me of a meal in Croatia where I ate so many truffles on a steak that I had to be pushed up a hill by Cowie back to our hotel. The truffles had that petrol like power that makes you appreciate that you are eating the very best. The egg was warm. Liquid. And hilariously un-PC for Cowie’s pregnant state! Sorry Zennor.

 

A wedge of salt cod came next – glistening with its own juices, like a glacier trickling away in the spring sun. I’ve been trying to instill a love for salt cod into Cowie for quite some time, but to no effect, but this dish was a revelation. A bacaloa epiphany. Soft, yielding, silky and moist – it was perfect. And the red pepper sauce a cracking counterfoil.

And then. The big show. The main event. The beef. Iconic. Beautifully caremelised over coals. Stunningly rare. But still warm and juicy. With all the fat rendered. Each mouthful seemed to get better. The firm flesh was almost waxy in texture, but with a flavour that tasted intensely beefy. Perfectly seasoned. It’s interesting to only be served protein and no vegetables or sauces. The beef is allowed so moo for itself. The beasts are 7 year old dairy cows – which is very unusual. But it works. There’s something brilliantly primeval about this dish. So uncomplicated. So reductive. It’s a journey back in time to the first time humans ever ate meat.

A beetroot sorbet with freshly made buffalo milk ice cream was a fitting finish. The sweet earthy notes of the beetroot balancing out the sharp freshness of the ice cream.

Interestingly, it was the discovery of fire and cooking meat over coals, that led to humans evolving far bigger brains. You could almost taste this sociology lesson on the plate. Eating is about experiences. And this experience, for me, had deep cultural significance. This trend away from molecular gastronomy towards a more authentic, primeval form of cooking is worth keeping an eye on. And as much as I loved all the fun of gels, foams and spheres, there’s something deep and life affirming about the experience and philosophy of Etxebarri.

We loved Etxebarri. We’d love to go back. And we’d love to explore the valleys and mountains further as well. On our 40 minute drive back to Bilboa airport I couldn’t help wondering whether there were any English speaking ad agencies in the area who needed a planner! It’s such a beautiful part of the world that we can’t wait to return to. Isn’t it nice when a dream turns out to be real?

Gourmet Stag Weekend in San Sebastian

Food normally plays second or third fiddle on a stag weekend. The closest you normally come to nutrition is from your toothpaste or morning ration of paracetamol. I normally arrive home on a Sunday night with the cravings of a pregnant slug – lettuce and courgettes please. And maybe a radish on the side.

So when Tom and Danny cooked up a trip to San Sebastian as a stag do, things looked up. Tom is a Donostia veteran, so had a very strong sense of where to go and what to eat. The closest we came to a burger or kebab was a particularly decadent sea urchin!

Others have written about the pintxos of San Sebastian far more comprehensively than I can. And in fact this blog post from The LondonFoodie actually covers a decent proportion of the places we visited. But here is an overview of my highlights. A series of pintxos postcards if you will.

La Cuchara de San Telmo

We started at La Cuchara de San Telmo – which is comfortably my favourite pintxos haunt. Traditional, but imaginative, their food has a depth of flavour and quality of cooking that would grace any starred restaurant. And all served up from a kitchen the size of a downstairs loo. Just don’t try to go on a Monday. It’s shut.

Veal Cheeks

Our pintxos crawl started with a strong dose of Txakoli and large ration of decadent veal cheeks – which had been cooked in red wine and placed on a bed of creamy puree. Unctuous isn’t a word I use very often, but these cheeks should take the place of the definition of this word in the OED. Deep and decadent; they are the sine qua nom nom nom for how to make the most out of veal cheeks.

Pigs Trotters

San Telmo is famous for their trotters. If they were any richer they’d be a Knightsbridge tax exile with a bastard son called Hubertus. Succulent doesn’t do them justice. There isn’t much “meat” per se. But the pickings you get are piggy bliss. The sherry vinegar glaze does its best to cut through the richness. But only some industrial strength hydrochloric acid could manage that. In fairness the Txakoli did a fair job in the place of the HCl.

Salt Cod

Salt cod seems to rear its caudal fin at every turn in San Sebastian. Here it flaked beautifully to reveal its pearly interior. The pepper puree was a perfect counterfoil and was possibly the only vegetable we came across for several hours of eating.

Scallops with Ham Fat

Scallops and salty pork are a well known match. But here they got taken to another level. The ham fat had little slivers of meat attached to it. But let’s be honest, it was there to act as a fatty cummerbund to the pristine white scallops. The only criticism is that it would be nice to crisp up the fat more. But I wouldn’t take that complaint terribly seriously.

Bar Zeruko

Zeruko is one of San Sebastian’s molecular pintxos bars. Spherification, table theatre and whimsy pick up where San Telmo’s depth of flavour and traditional cooking left off. And it is great fun. But some of the dishes could have been cooked more sensitively.

Ceps and Egg

Large slices of cep with a fried egg. Simple. And almost stunning. It just had a slightly acrid taste that you can get when something has caught slightly in the pan or on the plancha.

Smoke Your Own Cod

This was a lot of fun. You get presented with a miniature smoker with a piece of cod in bamboo tweezers which you then smoke until your heart is contented. All washed down with a green straw filled with a shot of herby goodness. This was one of our favourite dishes.

Sea Urchin

Rich. Decadent. And deeply sexual. This sea urchin didn’t take any prisoners. Enriched with béchamel and dressed with a herb oil, it redefined the word intensity. Put it this way; it tasted of how I image a brothel to smell.

Hake Throat

Or at least I think it was hake throat. Apparently it is a delicacy. Here it was served with foie gras and a film of caramel to add to the playful decadence.

Salt Cod with Fish Roe

Layers upon layers of salt cod with a cheeky topping of caviar and a dressing of balsamic vinegar sent us on our heady way from Zeruko smelling slightly of our own mini smoker.

Hidalgo 56

Tripe

Tom insisted on us tucking into some tripe. I gallantly attempted to help. But I’ve got to admit, I find tripe a bit too ripe for my boring taste buds. Tom insists this is amongst the best tripe he’s had. And I can attest to the fact that it really does taste very authentically of cow stomach. Although which of the cow’s four stomachs I’m not so sure.

Chanterelles with Scrambled Egg

Where I struggled with the tripe, I fell in love with the chanterelles and scrambled eggs. There’s nothing complicated about this dish. But it is sensational. Seasoned majestically. And scattered with parsley, it’s found its way into my psyche as my favourite mushroom dish of the year so far.

After the rest of the stag do went home, Sarah came out for a couple of days to experience the delights of the Basque country. And whilst it isn’t terribly pregnancy friendly, we adored it. We stayed at Hotel de Londres y de Inglaterra which is perfectly positioned on the promenade, overlooking the cacophonous waves that smash the shoreline in perfect concentric surges of water. 

As views go, they don’t get a lot better than this one from our hotel.

Taberna Gandarias

If you are struggling for somewhere to eat on a Monday – because quite a few of the pintxos bars close their doors then – Gandarias is a good option. It is both a pintxos bar and restaurant. And is one of my favourites. We drank gallons of exceptional wine and sherry here whilst on the stag, but focused more on the food when it was just the two of us.

Sirloin with green peppers

The juicy, pink, sweet steak was offset perfectly by the sweet bitterness of the green pepper and its salty anorak. I’m keen to scale this up to a full size dish once the summer arrives.

Squid with its Own Ink

Few things taste as good as super fresh squid cooked quickly. This was fabulous. And the inky sauce gave it loads of depth whilst making us look like our teeth were about to fall out.

Fake Elvers on Toast

Sadly not real elvers. But probably good for the environment. These little squiggly worms were delicious. And super garlicky.

Octopus with Paprika

Simple. Just slices of cold octopus with paprika, olive oil and seasoning. I’m not sure you could eat this and not realize what country you are in.

La Cepa

La Cepa is to be found very close to San Telmo. Whilst I am sure their pintxos are good, it’s the jamon that we fell in love with. Nutty. Unctuous. Piggy. And with a mineral depth, it is now the ham I judge others against. It’s almost worth the airfare alone. And the beer taps are made from pig legs which is pretty cool.

La Vina

I’m very embarrassed to say that we visited the mecca for Spanish cheesecake and didn’t try any. I haven’t really got an excuse. So forgive me. But here’s a photo of the best cheesecake I’ve ever seen – and not eaten. I am currently craving this cheesecake and a glass of PX sherry.

This is just a taster of a city I simply cannot wait to return to. It’s such a civilised, cultured, delicious place that has its priorities straight. Thank you Tom for organizing such a marvelous stag do. And well done Dan for being such a good egg. Let’s hope you call your first child Sebastian.

ABC Kitchen

Nestled into the ABC interior design store is the ABC Kitchen. It’s like Petersham Nurseries has had a love child with the Grain Store, a catwalk show and a Conran design shop.

After a couple of very firm recommendations (thanks Suz and Gav) we popped in for a light lunch and had our snow boots blown off.

After a lot of oohing, ahhing and penny counting we decided to forgo the exciting menu items and go for the set lunch. Often this is a disastrous idea. But not here.

My cauliflower soup was stunning to look at. And tasty in equal measure. The sourdough croutons added a lovely crunch and the chives and herbs were very well balanced. But the real stars were the little morsels of goat’s cheese that acted as gourmet depth charges.

Cowie’s carrot salad was one of the highlights of our trip to New York. ‘Carrot Salad’ sounds so pedestrian. It was anything but. The carrots had been roasted to a sweetness normally reserved for fruit and then juxtaposed with a strong handful of spices and salad.

My main course of slow cooked Spanish mackerel wasn’t what I expected. It was everything mackerel often isn’t. Soft, sweet and juicy. Greae free and almost like salmon in consistency. It didn’t have the metallic tang that can often dominate. Cucumbers and a light sauce worked wonders. It was as if as Skye Gyngell had been in the kitchen. Interestingly, one of her books was on sale in the design shop next door.

Cowie’s egg yolk and ricotta raviolo with a game ragu was a joyous explosion of sunny decadence. Dusted with parmesan it growled of umami. And screamed with delight. If it was a Sex and the City character, it would be Samantha after a hormone injection.

In a city full of gutsy macho eating, the ABC Kitchen is a graceful, serene, fresh, considered, stylish, oasis of lightness. But with enough guts to stop it being a fashion show.

The Hardwick, Wales

Cowie and I always try to steal a fleeting weekend for ourselves before Christmas as a way of fluffing ourselves into the festive spirit and as something to look forward to during the manic rush of London life in December. It’s a time of false deadlines, mounting workloads and indulgent parties that cries out for a healthy dose of rural relaxation.

This year we decided to follow up on the success of trips to Y Polyn and the Felin Fach Griffin in Wales and this time head to The Hardwick near Abergavenny. It gets a great write up in Diana Henry’s Gastropub Cookbook so we could barely resist.

Cowie booked us into a phenomenal BnB which is on the Glanusk Estate which is one of the corners of the world that when you discover it you want to simultaneously tell everyone all about it, but also put people off visiting because you want to hoard the experience for yourself.

Ty’r Chanter looks across at the Brecon Beacons and up at the Black Mountains, with the River Usk roaring past in the valley below so loudly that you could easily convince someone living in Reading that it was the M4. But, whilst the motorway may be spirit sapping, this is the sort of multi sensory experience that lifts the soul. The view below, of the snow capped mountains, is from our bedroom window. And if this isn’t amazing enough, we saw a kite swoop to pluck a pheasant from the field for supper. If you are planning to stay somewhere in this part of the country, you'd be mad not to stay here.



Inspired by the view and with a major meal ahead of us, we decided to head out for a run. There’s nothing like a thirteen mile yomp through the Black Mountains past fields full of sheep and along the river Usk’s salmon rich banks, teeming with waterfalls to build up an appetite. It’s like doing a spinning class in the Ginger Pig in order to stimulate your yearning for a juicy steak, or doing some pilates in the Fromagerie to put you in the zone for a cheeseathon.











So we arrived at The Hardwick with enormous appetites and even bigger expectations. And left with the former negated and the latter more than exceeded. For this is a seriously impressive restaurant.

After spending so much time next to the Usk and having seen so many pictures in our BnB of people proudly holding enormous fish, it would have been criminal for one of us to have their locally smoked salmon and confit salmon to start. Cowie adored it. Iridescent slices of salmon were served with beetroot crisps, a mild horseradish cream and pea shoots that matched with our Gruner Veltliner/Pinot Blanc to perfection. Whilst the confit spoke for itself with a demure confidence, its smoked sibling showed off like a diva glamming up for a performance. Bold and sexy it lingered in the mouth and teased us with whisperings about what was to come next.

My salt cod belly with creamy beans and chorizo was another hit. Everything about the dish screamed try me and I couldn’t resist. The beans were soft by full of integrity, whilst the mild chorizo added a salty stockiness to the sauce. But the star was the slippery morsel of flaky white cod that sat on top that has to rank as one of my favourite tastes this year. It was rustic to look and somewhat out of place on a menu in hilly Wales, but it worked brilliantly and helped to lift the menu to a new level without being pretentiously chefy.

We toyed with the idea of sharing Dear for Two and the Taste of Local Beef for Two, but having seen so many deliciously fluffy sheep on our run, it seemed only right for us to share their iconic Baa Baa Blacksheep sharing dish. It arrived with a satisfying thud on our table and a grin from our waitress – as if to say we’d made a good choice. It was a tour de force in how to cook lamb which demonstrated amazing skill that showcased the different aspects that make this meat so special.

The highlights were the surprisingly juicy merguez sausage; the unctuous neck; the light as a balloon faggots; the decadent shepherd’s pie; and the pressed leg that came like a sheepy schnitzel. The only element that could have been better was the loin that could have done with less time over the coals. But we’re just being picky. It’s hard enough to cook lamb well one way. Let alone creating a postmodern bricolage that showcases the multifaceted essence of this magnificently local sheep.

We finished with a jar of crackly lemon pudding with curds and meringue and were impressed to see the chef walk the room after his stint at the stove. This final touch may seem frivolous. But when you make an effort to try a chef’s cooking, it makes a big difference psychologically when they are actually in the restaurant. Thinking back to other memorable meals, it certainly made our meal more special when we spoke to Heston Blumnthal at the Fat Duck and also when we were given a quick tour of El Bulli’s kitchen’s by Feran Adria. It’s not that we have got a chef fetish, but seeing Stephen Terry did help to round off a memorable meal.

We are going to return in the spring to learn to fish on the Usk, cycle up and down the Black Mountains and most importantly to eat more of The Hardwick's soulful food.

Gravetye Manor, Revisited

The last time I visited Gravetye Manor, in the serene Sussex countryside, was nineteen years ago for my father’s 40th birthday party. My memories are as fuzzy as a well worn jumper, but my overall recollection is of old world charm and friendly sophistication. I remember trying to be patient during what seemed like a very long and grown up lunch and then being set loose in the garden where I was allowed to run around and hide in the flower beds whilst my parents and grandparents talked about the finer points of William Robinson’s gardening aesthetic.

It was a defining moment for me – as I have a very soft spot for country estates with ideas baked into them and good food. But it was more importantly a seminal experience for my parents. They clicked with Robinson’s English Natural Gardening style and Arts and Crafts period design which have inspired a fair bit of Mum and Dad’s garden at home.



So when Gravetye invited Cowie and I for lunch I said a nostalgic yes and enjoyed our brief tour of the garden which reconnected me with my previous experience. The garden and house tie together seamlessly with views from inside over ethereal and natural planting schemes. We loved the informal and relaxed way the plants wispily jostled with each other for position – as if telling the gardener where they should be rather than vice versa. And whereas many country house gardens pretentiously follow French and Italian formal garden design, Gravetye takes a more natural approach which pervades the whole experience.



The dining room is serene and civilised, with a gentle hum of old school conversations bumbling about rugby, art and travel. I suspect the same themes have been talked about in this room for generations and will continue to be repeated forever. The food is true to its setting, but also exhibits a modern flourish with supremely fresh and local ingredients – with some coming from the estate itself and the surrounding area.



I stated with a small tranche of pristine turbot that had been laid on top of some Dorset crab and then doused in a rich shellfish bisque. It’s not often you get a chance to commence a meal such a fine fish, but when you see it on the menu as a starter it seems rude not to indulge. The waiter sealed the deal as he explained that the fish wasn’t farmed like many turbot are these days, but instead was a stunning specimen that the whole kitchen were enthralled by. Needless to say, it was pretty special.



Cowie’s quail salad was a work of meaty and eggy art. Warm, rare, quail lay strewn amongst runny little eggs, beetroot salad leaves , baby leeks and a sauce gribiche. When you cook like this there isn’t any room to hide. But it had everything that Cowie seeks in a starter and it managed to keep her away from trying to steal too much of mine!



My veal fillet with a cep from the local woods and some horseradish cream was very special. I’m not an enormous fan of foams with main courses, but when the veal is cooked this well you could serve it with a bag of cement and I’d be happy. But the real highlight was a solitary cep which had been sliced in half and then roasted to bring out it deep fungal flavour.



Cowie’s sea bass came with a slick of mushroom sauce, a scattering of cute little girolles and some bacon wrapped fingers of oystery salsify. It brought back memories of Sweden – where we first encountered salsify at Kok & Vin – and worked brilliantly with the meaty sea bass. The combination of deep, brown flavours was quintessentially autumnal.



After such a savoury main course, I was drawn to the dessert menu like a mosquito to a juicy limb. My fig custard tart with gingerbread ice cream was one of the best puddings I’ve had in a long time. I even liked the marshmallows which I normally hate. Whereas some figgy puddings are cock teases with a sensual and seedy allure but no action, this little minx should have it’s own store on Brewer Street. The deep, sultry flavour of the fig kept you coming back for more.



Cowie’s plate of banana desserts was spectacular too if a little OTT. Of the cake, cannelloni, tuile, popcorn and cream, it was the cylinder that was the most exciting experience. I was hoping that there might be a Bananaman badge in the bottom of the cake, tucked away like a ha'penny in a Christmas pudding.

Many country house hotels leave you feeling like an extra from Poirot and have trouble keeping up with menu trends. But not Gravetye. Without being aloof, stuffy or cringingly modish, it manages to offer a warm, convivial and special experience. You get the impression that it has a very loyal following of people who regard it as their unofficial club. It would make an ideal place for a celebratory weekend, a stop over before a honeymoon or simply as a great place to revel in an important birthday – just like my family did 20 years ago. Apparently 80% of the people who visit Gravetye come back again some point in the future. And I am sure we will too one day.

Many thanks indeed to Gravetye and Quintessentially for inviting us both for lunch – it was a very special afternoon and I wouldn’t have written about it, had it not lived up to the memories of my first experience there as a nipper. Find out more details about their rooms, rates and special menus by visiting the Gravetye Manor Wesbite.