My Cult Vinegar and Cult Ceramics Adventure

I am sorry for the lack of posts recently.

My attentions have been going elsewhere.

To work. Boo.

To my daughter and wife. Wahoo.

But also towards a new adventure. Cult Vinegar and Cult Ceramics.

I've become obsessed with fermentation and living ingredients.

Sourdough bread; home made yoghurt; kombucha; fermented pickles; kimchi; sauerkraut; and most significantly vinegar. Yes vinegar. You don't choose what you become passionate about. It just happens. But personally, I hold all those lovely bacteria responsible. They've taken over my brain and gut. But not necessarily in that order.

A while ago we spent a life changing week in Burgundy in a stunning hunting lodge up on the plateau above Beaune. The rustic kitchen echoed with the spirit of Floyd. But rather than getting sozzled on exceptionally good burgundy, we enjoyed it and then tipped the remaining dregs into a pair of vinaigriers.

These traditional stoneware crocks sit on the kitchen dresser minding their own business. Unfazed by the ravages of modern technology. Oblivious to the 21st century. Heavy, rustic and with a footprint the size of a small car they beg to be filled up and bowed down to. When you lift the lid, your nostrils dilate and your heart races. The smell of living vinegar is intense. And I fear, addictive!

Over time the natural yeasts and bacteria in the surrounding environment make their way into the crock and take hold of the wine. Once this has set in and the 'Mother' has formed, the vinegar making process is now under way. French kitchens will often have their own vinegar ticking away for generations. As such each vinegar is unique - with its own subtle characteristics.

Vinegar will form in around 6-8 weeks in a warmish kitchen. And from that moment on when the pH dips below 3 the vinegar becomes delicious. Leave it a bit longer and a strange, jelly fish like substance will grow on the surface of the vinegar - much like a SCOBY does on top of Kombucha.

Simply draw off your vinegar and use it in an array of recipes, as a dressing or drink it (really, Jesus Christ's last ever drink). And continuously top up with leftover wine as and when you have it.

I came back from Burgundy all revved up about live vinegar so started making it at home. Several years later and I've taken this from being a hobby into a little business.

I have partnered with an incredible ceramics designer called Billy Lloyd to create a fermentation vessel that is specifically created for turning your leftover wine into delicious, small batch, living vinegar. The business is called Cult Ceramics and our first product is the Vinegar Vase which is shown below as a prototype. The hexagonal design means you can cluster a few Vinegar Vases together very efficiently and stylishly in a way that's more in keeping with a modern kitchen than what you might find in rural France.

It is currently in the final stages of manufacture and will be available to buy soon once we launch it at Daylesford during London Craft Week. To view details about the launch event click here. And if you really can't wait, you are more than welcome to pre-order one over at www.cultceramics.co.uk.

I've also been made a range of small batch, living vinegars. Choose from Red or White Wine Cult Vinegar. Or be more adventurous with Ruby Port; Spanish Moscatel; German Riesling; Champagne; 1998 Bordeaux; and English Red Wine Cult Vinegars. They've all got their own unique characteristics. These are also available to buy at www.cultceramics.co.uk/collections/cult-vinegar.

Primarily these vinegars are all delicious. And I find their subtle differences fascinating. But additionally, they are all unpasturised so contain living good bacteria that many people claim have probiotic and prebiotic qualities that may benefit your gut health - much like an actimel or live yoghurt does. Some people feel less bloated. Other claim to fart less. And some don't feel as hungry. For more on this read The Gut and google 'health benefits of vinegar'. But crucially, it's a brilliant way to turn stale old slops of wine into something piercingly delicious.

It's an exciting venture and I hope you all come along for the ride. If you want to get in touch about Cult Vinegar and Cult Ceramics drop me a line at jonathan@cultceramics.co.uk.

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.

Bánh Xèo

Our submission for this year’s pancake competition had a Vietnamese flavour. When we were in Ho Chi Minh city we fell in love with their Bánh Xèo. These enormous crispy, Simpsons coloured pancakes are stuffed with prawns, pork, bean sprouts and mint and are then wrapped in lettuce and rice paper, before being dipped in nuoc cham. Our favourite was this monster in Ho Chi Minh City which was the size of a satellite dish and as crispy as a Pringle.

We learned that Bánh Xèo is an onomatopoeic word that connotes the sizzling or crackling sound you hear when you make one. The batter is a mixture of rice flour, coconut milk and turmeric which fries in a way that leaves a pock marked surface similar to baddy’s face in Licence to Kill.

We found it took longer to cook the pancake than a traditional English version. But the patience was rewarded with a crispy shell to take on the filling.

We opted for a chicken and prawn filling instead of pork and prawn. You could just as easily use oriental mushrooms if you fancied a change. It’s important to marinade the ingredients in fish sauce, lemongrass, garlic, chilli and ginger first to infuse the flavour. Then fry away with some spring onions and keep warm whilst you make the pancake.

Ingredients:

For pancakes

200g rice flour

Half a can of coconut milk

200ml water

2 teaspoons of turmeric powder

Pinch of salt

Coconut oil for frying

Pancake filling

4 chicken thighs

2 cloves of garlic – finely sliced

1 lemongrass stem – finely sliced

1 chilli – finely sliced

Large thumb of ginger – grated

Big slug of fish sauce

150 g prawns

Handful of mint

Bean sprouts

Palm sugar

Lime

Coconut oil for frying

Nuoc cham dipping sauce

100ml fish sauce

50ml lime juice

3 finely sliced red chillies

1 teaspoon of palm sugar

1 clove of finely chopped garlic

Method:

Marinade the filling ingredients in fish sauce, ginger, lemongrass, garlic and chilli for half an hour. Then fry till cooked. Add the marinade towards the end to cook off. And some palm sugar. This should form a nice sticky sauce. Keep warm.

Whisk the rice flour, coconut milk, salt and turmeric together with the water to form a batter. Allow to rest for a bit.

Then add some coconut oil and groundnut oil to a frying pan and when hot add a spoonful of batter. The batter should fizz and crackle. It should also look pockmarked.

Once set and crispy on the other side, give it a careful flip. Because these are lacking in gluten they aren’t as stretchy so be a bit more cautious at this stage.

Serve the pancake, bent in half with the filling spooned in, like a taco. Then plate up with a wedge of lime, some bean sprouts, mint, and extra chillies.  And a little bowl of nuoc cham to dip into.

If you wanted to be extra authentic you could wrap the pancake in rice pancakes – but, they are just as nice on their own I think. And a lot less fiddly.

Some nice people from Roberson Wines gave us a bottle of Cono Sur Single Estate Chilean Reisling which paired perfectly with the Bánh Xèo. Fresh enough to slice through the complex flavours and rich enough to cope with the hint of spice. Not bad for £9 a bottle.