Mussel Soup - Cooked in a Coffee Machine

I’ve had some surreal experiences whilst writing this blog – from having the most disturbing massage of all time in India, to eating ortolan to cooking in a bathtub. And I can now add my afternoon cooking mussel soup in a coffee pot in Lysekill to the list!

The team who had organised the Mussel Safari had arranged for me and my new Swedish food blogger friends to compete in a live cook off in front of the whole town of Lysekill and on local radio. It was far bigger deal than I was expecting involving a gospel choir and some very groovy dancing to get people in the mood before we took to the stage!







I was very fortuitously paired with Katja who has just been crowned Sweden’s top food blogger for her quirky cooking in a coffee pot! Given my penchant for lateral cooking methods we were a like kindred spirits as we set about cooking mussel and seafood soup in Katja’s very own coffee pot. Given that coffee pot cooking normally involves 3 or 4 hour cooking times, we had our work cut out.





Ingredients

6 lovely Lysekil mussels
One percolator style coffee maker
One Katja
Tomato puree
2 langoustines
200g of monkfish
6 mussels
100ml of cream
1 finely chopped onion
1 clove of finely minced garlic
300ml of water
3 glasses of white wine
Sliced peppers
Parsley
Dill
Salt and pepper

Method

Given the time constraints we had to move very quickly so compromised on frying off the onions properly. If we had more time we would have gently sautéed them in the glass pot on the hot plate. But we concentrated instead on getting the water hot and using that as our cooking method instead.



Place 6 mussels and some dill in the filter compartment and boil the water in the tank so it percolates through the mussels. In the glass pot add the finely chopped onion, garlic and whole langoustines. The water should pass though the dill and mussels in about 4 or 5 minutes and then mingle together into a fishy fug.



Squirt some tomato puree into the pot and then add the lumps of monkfish. Add one glass of wine to yourself and one to the pot and then stand back and watch your coffee pot do the work whilst everyone else is busy chopping, frying, reducing and generally cooking properly.

After 20 minutes strain the contents into another vessel and then return to the glass pot. Discard the onion and garlic pieces. And remove the langoustines and mussel meat from their respective shells. Add them to the glass pot along with a slug of cream, the cooked monkfish pieces and some seasoning and return to the hot plate to heat through.


Serve in a polystyrene cup to rain soaked, highly bemused onlookers and reflect on what a bizarre, but brilliant experience the whole thing has been.





The soup itself was surprisingly good. What it lacked in depth of flavour it more than made up for in terms of personality and flair. The members of the audience and judges certainly enjoyed it.



If you’ve been even remotely as inspired as I have been by this surreal episode then you must check out Katja’s awesome cooking blog. And also have a look at her balloon blog and her boyfriend’s monster drawings. They’re both truly inspirational and I’m looking forward to our next lateral cooking adventure. Thanks you Katja and Dan for a few of the photos as well.

On British Food for the Observer

Chris, Helen and EuWen performed admirably in their interviews with Jay Rayner on the topic of British food. Sadly, I couldn't join in because it was filmed on my first day of my new life in Sweden. But I was able to submit a short piece on the topic which was featured in Observer. The irony of having my first piece or writing published in my favourite newspaper on the first Sunday that I don't have access to it, is certainly not lost on me. In fact I still haven't seen it for myself yet!

So, is there really such a thing as British food?

"Sometime you don’t realise what you have until its gone. So to see if there really is such a thing as British food, let’s conduct a thought experiment.

Suspend your current beliefs and remove the likes of sausage and mash, fish and chips as well as steak and ale pie from your life. Imagine they don’t even exist. And if you can, try to remove the idea of tucking into a full roast rib of beef, replete with Yorkshire puddings and crispy potatoes that have been roasted in sinful goose fat followed by apple crumble with gallons of custard.

Now, if you can imagine life being exactly the same without all this lovely, generous food, then unfortunately British food doesn’t exist. However, if when you temporarily erased all these hearty dishes from your mind, you broke out in cold sweats and started singing Jerusalem, then we can be fairly sure that British food is very definitely a real thing."

The timing of this was very meaningful. Various strands of my life converged and sparked prophetically. And it made me really think about the fact that by moving to Sweden I have left a litany of things behind that are proving very hard to live without. Cowie, British food, friends, family, London, the British countryside etc.

But by conducting the same thought experiment, it's very clear that they all still exist. And on a beautiful day in Gothenburg I couldn't think of anything better than tucking into rare roast lamb followed by rhubarb crumble and custard. But I'll have to wait until I return home at Easter for that.

(PS I love the pose that EuWen is frozen in. He appears to be describing a girl with particularly enormous breasts).

Brixton Restaurant Crawl

After two exemplary crawls around New Cross and Peckham I was somewhat nervous about hosting a guided tour of Brixton’s best places to eat. The main problem is that Brixton is blessed with profusion of cafes, bars, restaurants and markets that all need to be sampled. You’ve got the likes of Franco Manca, The Saltoun Supper Club, Salad Club, Upstairs, Fujiyama, Negril and Rosie’s Deli Cafe to choose from before you even start on all the jerk grills and cafes.

So I decided to focus on Franco Manca for an early lunch to avoid the queues and then to push on through the market for some jerk chicken, a spot of sushi and a few beers.

One of the things I like most about living in Brixton is that people are really proud of their community and wherever you glance there’s something interesting going on. Whether that’s a guy delivering drugs on roller skates or Space Makers working hand in hand with the council to fill vacant shop units with “creative, community-oriented and enterprising projects”. Or more dramatically the emergence of the Brixton Pound. As a currency it became legal tender in September 2009 and is designed to help money stay within the Brixton community. Its existence is a sign of Brixton’s semi autonomous nature and non-conformity. All of which adds up to a great adventure.

That’s enough from me. Over to Lizzie, Naomi, Chris and Helen…

Lizzie on Wild Caper and Hive Bar

Arriving at The Wild Caper at 11am, I was initially confused when I walked in. Was it a coffee shop? A deli? It seemed to be an amalgamation of the two. Smiley staff served up a rich and satisfying cappuccino.

As we headed off for Franco Manca, we realised we were a tad early as it didn't open until 12pm. What to do? We'd already done the coffee thing, so there was only one option. Beers.

It was a sunny day which is a rarity so we opted to sit outside The Hive, coats done up to the neck. Naughty breakfast Peronis were the beer of choice, and they slipped down a treat. A zimmer-framed passer-by who was obviously not quite there stopped by our table. "Who's the lucky man?" We looked at each other nervously. He repeated this phrase maybe 4 or 5 times, stunning us all into a wide-eyed silence before he staggered off, muttering to himself. A great introduction to our Brixton adventure.

Naomi on Franco Manca

Over eager for some pizza action we moseyed down to Franco Manca at noon having whiled away some time drinking beers and sipping coffees. By this time, completely ravenous we set to, debating which pizzas we should share. There were votes for anchovies and chorizo, but in the end (much to my delight) we settled on one margherita and one buffalo ricotta with wild mushrooms.



I think you can always tell a good pizza place by its margherita. If you can't get the basics right, there's not much hope. This one was served piping hot from the oven (necessary in my book, if not always a given) in under four minutes. The crisp base was good and it had a nice chewiness to it. The topping was a sweet and incredibly tasty tomato sauce with plenty of good quality mozzarella. If I was being incredibly finickity, my only complaint would be that there was perhaps a touch too much tomato sauce for the size of the base.



The buffalo ricotta and wild mushroom was 10 times better than I expected it to be. I tend to shy away from pizza bianca. For me a pizza always has a base, tomato and cheese. Tomato being the lacking component here. It worked, because there wasn't too much cheese - just enough for the flavour but not so much that it was cloying in the mouth. And for the first time ever, in my experience of 'wild mushroom pizzas', the wild mushrooms really were wild mushrooms and not just a handful of chestnut mushrooms from the local cash and carry!

As we left, with packed tables on both sides of the market passage, the queue ran down as far as the road. The pizza was good. Very very good. But would I queue for what must end up being an hour or more in the freezing cold for it? Probably not (I'd just make sure I pitch up at 11am again and try to bag myself a table for later...)!



Helen on Jerk Chicken from The Bush Man and Curry Goat from Take Two

Brixton is a town of many smells. The best amongst them are the heady, intoxicating wafts of the Caribbean; thyme, scotch bonnet chilli and allspice. Invisible clouds of spicy scent fill the air, ready to make the unsuspecting tummy rumble.

Browners’ mission was to fit in as much jerk as possible. The first place, Take Two, was a rec from Rosie Lovell of Rosie’s Café Deli and it was also our favourite. The jerk had run out but we settled happily for a portion of curry goat with rice and peas. It was some of the best I’ve tasted. Not outright in your face spicy or dustily over so, but mellow, melty chunks of Billy, coated in a well rounded sauce that built steadily to an addictive tingle. Creamy, coconut perfumed rice and peas were the perfect foil. A garnish of white cabbage was unexpected but welcomed by all and is, apparently, traditional.

Our second stop, sadly, was less successful. The Bush Man’s Café had the banter, the smiles and an impressive array of hot sauces but sadly it was a case of style over substance. The chicken just tasted grilled and the ‘hottest’ hot sauce, despite looking the part as a bright yellow, red-flecked lava bomb, turned out to be barely discernible.

Chris on Fujiyama

Not too long ago I worked in a strange loft office above a furniture maker's in Brixton. I had previously worked in Epsom in Surrey, and lunchtimes consisted of a choice between those weird chemically tasting sandwiches from Subway and a greasy spoon that once managed to cock up a cheese and ham toastie. So you can imagine my excitement at the prospect of the myriad of restaurants and cafés of Coldharbour Lane and the indoor market. One of my favourite lunching spots back then was Fujiyama, a sushi joint at the end of Saltoun Road that used nice fresh ingredients and always managed to serve them smartly enough to allow me to get back to my desk within the hour. It was nice to get the opportunity to revisit and reminisce as part of the restaurant crawl.

We ordered a selection of 16 or so assorted nigiri, some scallop sashimi (a presentation I had yet to try) and the veggie amongst us ordered a small plate of "Yasai Katsu", deep fried slices of root vegetables in breadcrumbs. It was all pretty good. The scallop sashimi were sweet and attractively butterflied, the tuna and salmon on the nigiri was perfectly fresh, and service was generally attentive and friendly. If I was going to be hyper critical I suppose I could mention that the sushi rice was slightly on the dry side and we didn't think much of the vegetable katsu, but these were fairly minor points.



In fact the only major issue I have with Fujiyama is this - why, in a sushi restaurant with bench seating where table space is at a bit of a premium, do they insist on having a massive spring-loaded napkin dispenser on every table? The things are huge and flat, the size and shape of a 1980s hard disk, and completely and utterly pointless. Sorry I know I shouldn't let it annoy me so much, but there it is.



Me on The White Horse



So after coffee, beers, pizza, jerk chicken, curried goat and sushi we felt pretty full and sloped off up Brixton Hill to my local, The White Horse for a couple of pints. It’s a pub that always feels as if something fun is about to happen. The enormous dog was sadly absent during our visit, but we enjoyed the chilled out vibe and creative daubings in support of Brixton.

As a group we had every intention of pushing on to Negril for a jerk chicken finale but time got the better of us. So Cowie and I took one for the team and gave Negril a whirl ourselves.

Me on Negril

We waddled up the hill, spurred on by the promise of the best jerk in town and weren't disappointed. My quarter of a chicken was well jerked and as soft as a slow cooked pigs cheek. On its own the spice wasn’t overpowering, but when introduced to the two pots of dangerous brown sauce the chicken almost breathed fire and caused me to hiccup for the next ten minutes! It was everything that the earlier jerk from the Bush Man was not. Juicy. Spicy. And full of scotch bonnet friskiness.





Our Brixton restaurant crawl was a great success. I am sorry that we didn’t get a chance sample the Saltoun Supper Club, Salad Club, Rosie’s or Upstairs, but in balance I think we did Brixton justice. If we made any glaring mistakes please let us know so we can add them to our “to go to list” for the future.

Thank you guys for a great afternoon and for all your brilliant words and pictures. Here's a map plotting our 1.2 mile journey of gastronomic discovery which should help you picture the mission we went on.


View Brixton Restaurnt Crawl in a larger map

Further reading:

Urban 75
My Brixton
Walking Tours of Brixton
Brixton Pound
Spacemakers in Brixton
Helen's photos
Lizzie's photos

Where's My Pork Chop - Freshly Ironed Cheese Toasty

London was at its most grizzly. The sky was as grey as Poirot’s matter and the rain cascaded like Eureka’s bath tub. But for me it felt balmy and almost Mediterranean as I waited for Food Urchin on the steps of St. Paul’s. In my rucksack was a box. And in that box was an iron, a jar of home-made crabapple and chilli jelly, some of my Mum’s 2008 vintage chutney and a lovingly made Montgommery cheddar sandwich with cheese selected with expert advice from the La Fromagerie.

Given that Food Urchin and I share a passion for the bizarre cooking methods you’ll find in a book by Stefan Gates called Gastronaut, it made perfect sense to push the culinary boundaries of “Where’s my Pork Chop”. My theme picked up where the Sandwichist left off and tied in nicely with the crab apple jelly I made the previous weekend.

As I handed my package across to Food Urchin I giggled at the thought of him opening the box at work and realising that he was going to have to use his new, multi-purpose, iron as a toasty maker.

As it happened the fun all took place at home. I’ll let Food Urchin’s hilarious write up and photos do the talking…





After the fun of cooking in the bathtub, dishwasher salmon, cooking pizzas in our clay oven, beer can chicken and this experiment with ironing sandwiches, I’m massively excited about what to do next.









If you’ve got any suggestions such as cooking on a car engine let me know and we'll give it a go.

Bathtub salmon courtesy of Tiki Chris.

Dining with Dos Hermanos at Casa Brindisa

Our evening with Dos Hermons at Casa Brindisa was a lot of fun. We feasted on the best food and booze that Spain and Jose Pizarro has to offer. We took over the whole restaurant and lapped up the procession of speeches from the assorted Spanish gourmet experts that punctuated our banquet. It's a great model for an indulgent gastronomic night out.

We started with some Manzanilla Pasada sherry, bright green Gordal olives and salted almonds which were quickly followed by some soggy bread topped with tomatoes.



Smoked and salted anchovies were a revelation. The smoked version was particularly impressive. I would be tempted to serve them at the start of an informal dinner party, or with some crunchy bread and a glass of chilled sherry.



Jamon was sinfully good. We learnt how the curing process is designed to mimic the ebb and flow of the seasons and can last for many years. This jamon was sweet, savoury, salty and plated seductively. There are few things in life more pleasurable than scoffing this stuff. There was almost a fight on our table as we all tried to guzzle more than our fair share!



Croquetas were sensational. The crispy balls were stuffed with creamy, salty cod bechamel, whilst the sausage shaped one held little jewels of jamon. I wish I could eat these all day.



Fritatta was solid. Literally. And could have done with an extra whisker of seasoning. It was perfectly decent, but nowhere near as exciting as the other dishes.



Enormous prawns a la plancha promised to be heavenly. But despite their juiciness, they lacked the flavour I was expecting. A twist of salt and pepper fixed this pretty quickly.



Sea bass with morcilla de Burgos and piquillo peppers was a great combination of deep, porkiness and soft, flaky fish. The subtle spice from the crumbly sausage mixed with irridescent white flesh is one of my favourite combinations. If I was cooking it I'd be tempted to dial up the smoky paprika spice.



Pork tenderloin dusted with paprika was a shadow of what it could have been. It was a bit dry and for want of a more descriptive expression, dull.



Pulpo a la Gallega was excellent. A real star. The flesh was tender and the flavours vivid. It was a cracking dish. I am fast becoming a squid and octopus lover.



A tempura of artisan Monte Enebro goat's cheese dressed with orange blossom honey was awesome. It's a great way of bypassing the issue of whether to have pudding or cheese first. Just combine them! A crema Catalana was deliciously sweet and creamy. A fine end to a fun evening.

It was a real treat to scoff such high class Spanish food amongst friends who as keen on putting good stuff in their mouth as I am. Whilst I don't think I'll ever be a regular at Brindisa's restaurants (due to location), I am keen to buy their goodies to cook at home. I've got my eye on their pork loin marinated in paprika. Thank you Simon for organising such a fun event. And good luck with future Dine with Dos Hermanos events.

For other write ups see:

Dinner Diaries
Dos Hermanos
Gastro Geek
Silverbrow on Food

Eating Eurovision

Andrew Webb, AKA @Foodjournalist, is the brains and more importantly, energy behind a brilliant project, the Paunch is delighted to part of, called Eating Eurovision. Here's the idea:

25 food bloggers turn up to BBC Television Centre to watch the second semi final of the Eurovision Song Contest. Each blogger then draws a country from the hat and then has 24 hours to get under their adopted country's foodie skin in London and report back. Simple hey? Here's what happened...



I was told off immediately by the BBC security guard for taking photographs which was nice.





We gorged on crap from Sainsbury's whilst crammed into a small office watching what would otherwise have been my idea of living hell.



The coverage on BBC3 was astonishing with some entries resembling soft porn more than musical performances.



We then all took our turns to dip into Andrew's lucky sack and we picked...



Turkey and France which was brilliant, if a little bit on the demanding side...



But Lizzie seemed a bit disappointed by her choice of Lithuania! I can't think why!

We were in a bit of a spin about what to do but it all worked out in the end. Read our posts on Turkey and France and make sure you have a good look at what everyone else has written over on Eating Eurovision. Now it's time to sit down and watch the Eurovision Song Contest.