For those that love to eat

Very, very, very exciting!

2011-07-08T03:03:00.000-07:00

English tomatoes, including san marzanos, baby plums and tiger skins, amongst others, marjoram, pedro ximenez vinegar, a little thyme, and Syrian allepo pepper. I've been waiting for this moment since the end of the English tomatoes in September.

Vegan beef

2011-07-08T03:00:00.000-07:00

Wrong on every level.

Catch of the day

2011-07-08T02:54:00.000-07:00

Not today. Or yesterday. Or even the day before. But a catch none the less. A carrier bag full of little fishies, caught on the calm Balearic waters off the island of Ibiza, and cooked up for (an admittedly fairly modest) dinner. That's what I call a stag do.

Keep on truckin'

2011-05-23T05:38:00.001-07:00

The food tuck scene in London town just stepped up a gear. Meat Wagon and the Eat Street mob have been firing for the last couple of years, but the arrival of a certain BBQ joint, under Hungerford Bridge on the Southbank, marks a smoking hot addition heady world of pimped-out gastro kebab vans. Welcome, Pitt Cue Co.

Get down early, and work your way through the menu of hickory-smoked proteins, banging sides and sauces, and heavy weight liquor to match.

Wings & a Pickleback for breakfast:

Salt beef, pickles, dill sauce and rye for mid-morning snack:
Plus plenty of The Kernel to keep the cogs oiled, and some hickory smoked Old Spot king ribs, rootbeer beans, and slaw for lunch.

This is bigger than my ever-expanding waistline, boys. Keep it coming!

Clean up cocktails

2011-05-04T13:19:00.000-07:00

If you ever find yourself having to mop the floor on your birthday, I can recommend doing so with the accompaniment of a strong, bitter sweet Negroni. Makes the whole episode far more pleasurable.

Happy Easter!

2011-04-24T05:32:00.000-07:00

Made even happier by hot cross buns, fresh from the oven at St John Bread & Wine.

Bargain

2011-04-24T05:27:00.000-07:00

Perhaps not suitable for every table this Easter Sunday, though.

More props!

2011-04-18T08:11:00.000-07:00

This time from Lisa Markwell in the Independent on Sunday. I'm very pleased she enjoyed the food, even if not the music!

Signs of spring

2011-04-04T13:55:00.000-07:00

An affogato, sipped and spooned one barmy Sunday, on the banks of the Regent's Canal. Made all the more delicious thanks to Laura's home made ice cream.

So far, so good

2011-04-04T13:24:00.000-07:00

I feel I should begin this post by apologising to regular readers (I know there are at least three or four of you) for the distinct lack of activity here over the passed few months. Having said that, it's been a great start to the year, with my involvement in Brunswick House Cafe, already paying off, despite taking up a fair portion of my life!

At work, we've been having fun with all manner of creations, and getting some great feedback in the process. We've also received props from the rags over here, and across the pond, with more to follow soon, if our Twitter feed is to be believed.

Outside of the kitchen, there has been much to report, but scarce time to report it... From Dinner at Dinner, to duck's tongues at Gourmet San, strong cocktails and NY/italo-inspired snacks at Spuntino, to supper clubs in Dalston with two of my favourite young chefs... My, the inspiration!

Hopefully I'll manage to keep the updates a little more regular from here on in, but for now, long may the fun continue.

Basil 'Likes' Brunswick House Cafe

2011-02-01T04:40:00.000-08:00

And if you like Brunswick House Cafe too, then please feel free to make your feelings known on our new Facebook page. We'd be flattered to have you in our company!

Time Out says...

2011-01-24T09:52:00.000-08:00

Well, you can read it for yourselves. Although we'd prefer it if you came along and made your own minds up, really.

New year...

2011-01-19T02:52:00.000-08:00

New website.

www.brunswickhousecafe.co.uk

A Spanish retreat, for those that love to eat

2011-01-05T13:50:00.000-08:00

Back in November of last year, I was lucky enough to host my first cooking retreat, for those love to eat, at the enchanting Finca Buen Vino in la Sierra de Aracena, in Andalucia, South Western Spain.

The Finca is set in beautiful mountains, an hour north of Seville, and is run by a delightful couple called Jeannie and Sam, who made us feel like returning family members. The house sleeps dozens, but there always seems to be a cosy corner or open terrace to escape to... Not that I had time of course - I was the live-in cook / tutor / tour guide, whilst the guests were there to eat, drink, learn, and be merry. And what a pleasure it was for all of us, too.

Dark chocolate brownies for the guests upon arrival...

And sherry on tap...

The students perfect their kneading technique.

With excellent results; the loaves looked perfect after proving.

And even better after baking outside in the wood-burning stove.

What better way to enjoy them with some goat's cheese, that we made ourselves at Maria Jesus' dairy, down in the village.

A bit of butchery...

Fish filleting...

Some jointed rabbits...

And a boned, rolled and stuffed pork shoulder.

A walk in the village, after our final breakfast.

Followed by a traditional country paella...

And a Spanish show-stopper of a tart.

***

My Spanish cookery retreats are organised on a bespoke basis, dependent on your interests and desires. The atmosphere is friendly, welcoming and informal. The accommodation is homely and inviting. The food and drink are plentiful, and can be offered on an all inclusive basis. I'll also create a program of lessons, tutorials and excursions based on your skill levels, knowledge base and inspirations. We'll eat food like you see above, meet locals and get a taste for real Spain, and most importantly of all, have a wonderful time together.

Please feel free to get in touch by email to find out more... n.balfe@gmail.com

For more information about Finca Buen Vino, or La Vida Serrana, have a look at Sam and Jeannie's excellent blog.

Brunswick House Cafe

2011-01-05T05:05:00.000-08:00

Now taking reservations for Thursday, Friday, and Saturday evenings, as of 13th January 2011

After a few weeks of experimentation at the end of December, followed by a very successful preview party, Brunswick House Cafe will re-open next week, on Monday 10th January.

Breakfast, elevenses, lunch and tea will be served all week from Monday to Sunday, whilst on Thursday, Friday and Saturday evenings, we will be serving supper and small plates to share, to accompany wine, beers and expertly-crafted cocktails.

The evening menu, dependent on what looks good at the markets, will look something like this:

Small plates to share

Terrine

Cured meats

Jerusalem artichokes, duck egg & parsley

Kholrabi, red onions & caper berries

Smoked mackerel, pickled radicchio & rye bread

Cavalo nero, walnuts & anchovy

Octopus, potatoes & aioli

Turnip & Ticklemore tart

Pig's liver & serrano ham

Dark chocolate & Seville orange tart

Prune & Pedro Ximenez fool

Get in touch if you'd like to make a reservation by calling 0207 720 2926. Or visit our website!

Look forward to seeing you soon!

Sympathy for the stuffed goose

2010-12-29T02:58:00.000-08:00

For another seasonal guest recipe, I turn to the inspirational Philippa Davies, who despite currently living an oh-so-glamorous post-Mudchute existence, found time to put together this wonderfully characterful selection for your cooking, eating, and drinking pleasure. Take it away, Philippa...

"For those who consider food one of the major loves in their life, the festive period is a very exciting time. I, being such a person, hate to admit that my body has reached the age where it can no longer remained unscathed after days on end of banqueting, boozing and revelling, so I have had to start planning a more balanced Christmas. This is not say that I won’t have my fair share of goose fat roast potatoes or mums sherry trifle but I will be having the occasional lighter and digestible meal.

Ignoring the above, however (I did say it was about balance), firstly, I have a fun, festive cocktail to get you going!"

Clementine Margarita Cocktail

enough to make many merry
Tequila chilled in the freezer
200g White Sugar
1 bag clementines
Crushed Ice

Melt the sugar with 200ml water and leave to cool. Juice the Clementines. In a jug, add 2 parts tequila, 2 parts clementine juice, 1 part sugar syrup and stir. Taste to see if the balance is right and adjust accordingly - if you prefer sour add a squeeze of lemon juice or less sugar syrup. Serve in chilled glasses rimmed with salt or sugar and filled with crushed ice.

Baked trout with tahini sauce and greens

Serves two.

for the trout
2 small trout stuffed with parsley stalks, a pinch of ground cumin, lemon wedges, seasoned and drizzled with olive oil.
blanched winter greens like chard, cavolo nero or savoy cabbage.

for the tahini Sauce
1 large tbsp spoon Tahini
100ml Water approx
Juice of ½ Lemon
½ crushed garlic clove
1 tbsp Olive oil
1 tbsp finely chopped parsley
¼ tsp sweet paprika

In a bowl whisk 2 tablespoons tahini with the lemon juice slowly whisk in the water until you have the consistency of single cream then add the olive oil, parsley and paprika. Season.

To serve, bake the trout and serve warm with the blanched greens and tahini sauce poured all over.

Saved by the Rillettes

2010-12-28T16:44:00.001-08:00

One could never be more re-assured than when one has a good stock of potted meat up one's sleeve (or at the bottom of one's fridge, more likely).

If not servicing an ad hoc luncheon, gathered at one end of the kitchen table, or a late-evening fire side snack, a rillette will happily lye in wait for your next unexpected canapé party, drinks reception or amuse bouche. It is sure to satisfy all but the most salad-frenzied of guests.

Beware at this time of year of being without a jar of potted something-or-other at your disposal – you could come a cropper.

Duck rillettes

Duck, pork and rabbit, in my mind are the classics, but there's no reason why you shouldn't try it with boar, mutton, or game. Adjust the cooking times and accompanying spices accordingly.

for a healthy jarful
4 duck legs
lots of coarse see salt
a dozen juniper berries, crushed
coarse ground black pepper
a bunch of thyme
bay leaves
a good quantity of duck fat
a dash brandy
a few more sprigs thyme, leaves picked and very finely chopped
a pinch mace
a pinch allspice
a pinch of finely ground juniper berry
finely ground black pepper
orange zest

First, salt the meat to cure it add flavour. Mix the salt with the juniper berries and coarse ground black pepper and sprinkle a layer on the bottom of a plastic container. Lay the duck legs flesh side down on the salt, and pack the remainder of the salt mix, along with thyme and bay leaves.

The next day, remove the legs from the salt and rub off any excess. Transfer to a roasting dish. Preheat the oven to 140 degrees C. Gently melt some duck fat in a pan, and pour over the duck fat – it needs to virtually cover the legs entirely. Cover with some parchment, and cook in the oven for at least two hours. Four if your schedule allows. Remove from the oven and leave to cool.

Remove the legs from their fatty encasing, and separate the meat from the bones, skin and fat. In a suitably sized bowl, use two forks to shred the meat into very thin strips. Mix in the thyme, spices, orange zest and brandy, forking through a little of the fat for good measure as you go. Check the seasoning – it's unlikely to need more salt, but more spice may be required. Pack into a seal-top jar, and cover with a layer of duck fat – the mix will keep for a couple of weeks in the fridge, or longer in a sterilised jar.

When the time comes, break open a baguette, of the crunchy, thick-crusted variety, upon a bottle of something bold and red, and tuck in.

A most spectacular pie for Boxing Day (or the day after)

2010-12-28T16:40:00.001-08:00

If I were to put my neck on the line, I would not be at pains to say that all pies are good pies. There are decorative pies, celebratory pies, pies of time and place and pies of national treasure. Even those curious specimens that come tucked away in a tin have their merits.

There are pies that float and pies that land with a thud. There are uplifting pies, and more commonly, steadying pies. On occasion, you will chance upon a pie that manages to achieve both... If and when this is the case, be sure to return for seconds!

There are pies of the everyday – humble pies, as the rhetoric goes – and there are decadent pies. Spectacular pies. Pies of distinction. Here is an example of such a pie:

Chicken, foie gras, wild mushroom and Dauphinoise pie

An extremely indulgent pie... Enjoy with irregularity; proof that one can have too much of a good thing.

serves eight
a whole chicken
stock veg for poaching – onion, celery, leak, carrot
a bundle of aromatics – thyme, bay, parsley, peppercorns
olive oil
goose fat
4 shallots, finely sliced
4 cloves garlic
a few sprigs thyme, leaves picked and chopped
a few handfuls wild mushrooms
100g butter or more goose fat if you like
100g flour
100ml milk (or milk used to poach foie gras lobes for a terrine)
100ml chicken stock
a glass Madeira, Sauternes, or white wine
a grating of nutmeg
raw foie gras (e.g. the offcuts from making a terrine)
salt and pepper
left over foie gras terrine, cut into chunks, or poached foie gras lobes
left over roast goose, in pieces (optional)
left over ham, in chunks (optional)
left over gratin dauphinoise
puff pastry, rolled out to a 3mm thickness,
1 egg, lightly beaten

First, poach the chicken – bring to a simmer with the veg and aromatics, and poach for 1 hour. Try not to let the water come to the boil, as the flesh will stay more tender. Leave to cool, remove the flesh from the bones, drain the stock, discard the herbs and veg, and reduce the stock by two thirds so you have a thick, syrupy liquor. It will be good enough to eat. But resist the temptation – it has a grander fate awaiting.

Sauté the shallots in oil for a few minutes until softened. Add the thyme and garlic, and cook for a little longer. Add the mushrooms and sauté until softened. Do this in batches if necessary, so the mushrooms fry, not steam. When cooked, set aside.

Make a roux with the butter, or goose fat, and flour, and gradually add the stock and milk alternately, stirring all the time, to create a bechamel. Finally add the Madeira or Sauternes. Add the nutmeg and season. Add the mushrooms and raw foie gras and stir to combine.

Find a suitably decorative pie dish, worthy of such a creation as this. A disposable foil tin will not do. Place a layer of dauphinoise at the bottom, a few centimetres thick – it should half fill the pie dish. Place the chicken pieces (and ham and goose if using) on top of the dauphinoise, then liberally tuck in pieces of cooked foie gras or foie gras terrine. Now is the time to put shyness and cholesterol aside. Pour the mushroom and foie gras bechamel on top, so it covers all of the meat below. It already looks fabulous, doesn't it? Lay the pastry over the top of your pie, and decorate with hatched ribbons of more pastry, and poultry pastry shapes, if you're of an artistic disposition. Preheat the oven to 170 degrees C. Brush all over with egg wash, and bake in the oven, loosely covered with foil for 40 minutes, removing the foil for the final 10. Remove from the oven and present to your dining companions to allow for collective pre-feast marvelling. Rejoice. Enjoy.

L'excursion de Noël en Normandie

2010-12-28T16:10:00.000-08:00

Christmas in Calvados Country...

Beetroot and orange-cured salmon.

Poached pears with creme-fraiche hotcakes and syrup.

Pear and almond tart...

Amongst many, many other things!

Christmas at the Rowland residence

2010-12-28T15:56:00.000-08:00

A fabulous example of the recent autumn chutney being put to good use here... With no less than six types of cheese to accompany, as well as a selection of charcuterie, and even a perfectly decorated snowy-white cake in the background, this photo shows that Christmas snacking is something taken very seriously in the North East. Thanks very much for the picture, Patch!

A little festive supper...

2010-12-14T01:58:00.000-08:00

Brunswick House Cafe friends and family preview - 21st December 2010

As some of you may already know, I've recently embarked on a new project in collaboration with the very admirable Jackson Boxer - formerly of Great Queen Street, and other such fine eating establishments, where I shall be taking charge of the food at the already excellent Brunswick House Cafe in Vauxhall.

For those of you who aren't familiar with Brunswick House, it really is a gem of a place; nestled in a crumbling Georgian town house, sharing space with antiques emporium Lassco, and decked out in all manner of reclaimed curiosities... It's difficult to do it justice here, so I suggest you come and see for yourselves.

With that in mind, I'm inviting friends, family, and readers of this blog to a special preview of my new menu, which will take place at the Cafe on 21st December 2010. Apologies for the short notice!

I'm not entirely sure what I'll be cooking yet, but the menu I put together last week including dishes like Wild rabbit, anchovy and wet polenta; Smoked mackerel, celeriac and prunes; Beetroot and Quenby Hall gratin; and the surprise star, Jerusalem artichokes, duck egg and parsley.

Since it's Christmas, I'm going to do all the food at cost price - there will be a set tasting menu, with a recommended donation of £6 per head. There will be a selection of cocktails available too, masterminded by Frank Boxer, of Frank's - the critically acclaimed rooftop bar / art installation space in Peckham.

Feel free to pass this invite on to partners, friends and relatives - it would be great to have you along.

Please RSVP with numbers to nbalfe@gmail.com

A Little Festive Supper

Brunswick House Cafe

30 Wandsworth Road

Vauxhall SW8 2LG

Tuesday 21st December, 2010. Drinks from 7pm, food from 7.30pm.

£6 donation per head

brunswickhousecafe.co.uk

"Cocoa for your frosty button nose"

2010-12-13T03:52:00.001-08:00

My first guest recipe, and second guest appearance, from my dear friend Haley, all the way from the frozen hinterlands of Arctic Canada. In her words, "Sweet Lord, the best hot chocolate in the world."

for one mugful

two tbsp cocoa powder

a quarter cup of eggnog

three quarters cup of hot water

"Add the cocoa powder to the eggnog. Be sure to whip up the cocoa in the eggnog real good before adding the hot water. That's it... So good!"

Haley, I look forward to sharing your lamb dish with the world very soon.

Lads wot lunch

2010-12-06T09:57:00.001-08:00

Sixteen plates of Venetian snacks (including the chocolate salami and ricotta crumble to finish) and a few glasses of Prosecco... Good way to while away a few hours on a Monday afternoon.

Apple and kalonji onion seed chutney

2010-11-24T04:59:00.000-08:00

Following the success of my Autumn Blend Super Muesli, here's the second of my seasonal offerings for you, this time in the form of a tangy, eastern-spiced chutney, guaranteed to make your cheese sandwiches ring with excitement.

The apples are from my Grandma's garden in Devon, and the chillies, kalonji black onion seeds, and other spices are from the fabulous Helen's Health Foods shop, near my Mum's house in Weymouth. I made it about a month ago on a trip to the West Country, and now it's had plenty of time for the flavours to meld and mature. I have to say, it tastes pretty good.

As with the muesli, I'm selling the chutney exclusively to readers of For Those That Love To Eat at a special price of £3.00 per jar.

It's another very limited run, so if you fancy turning your next Ploughman's into something rather special, get in touch quick:

nbalfe@gmail.com

Look forward to hearing from you!

Bitter sweet symphony

2010-11-23T05:43:00.000-08:00

One could rarely complain about eating a brownie. A mixture of chocolate, butter, eggs and sugar, it would be pretty difficult to go wrong. I've munched on a few of late, and have never been disappointed, but find them most satisfying when the rich, gooey indulgence of it all is balanced by bitter notes from proper dark chocolate.

I've been meaning to try out this recipe for St John's Brownies at home for a while now... I've made it, and the Rochelle Canteen variation a few times in catering volumes, but wanted to give it a road test in domestic conditions.

After having knocked a batch up yesterday evening, I left a tray full in the fridge to cool over night. Judging by the fact that half of it had been schnaffled by my housemate by the time I returned, I think it's fair to say the recipe was a success.

Dark chocolate brownies

Makes a 20 x 30cm tray full

200g dark chocolate (70%+ cocoa)

200g unsalted butter

3 eggs

250g sugar

50g flour

50g cocoa

100g hazelnuts

Preheat the oven to 160 degrees C, and grease and line a baking tray with baking parchment. Melt the chocolate and butter together in a bowl over a pan of simmering water, or in the microwave. Leave to cool slightly.

Mix the eggs and sugar together in a large mixing bowl, using either an electric whisk, or a lot of elbow grease, until pale, smooth and doubled in volume. Fold in the chocolate / butter mixture. Sift in the flour and cocoa, add the hazelnuts, and pour into the baking tray.

Bake in the oven for 25 minutes or so. The brownie is done when the mix no longer wobbles in the centre when the tin is gently shaken. You want a papery skin on the top, and a slight stickiness in the centre.

Leave to cool for ten minutes in the tin before turning out onto a board. The brownie will be easier to slice when it's cooled completely, but it depends if you can wait that long.

Note: You can also omit the cocoa for a slightly less bitter brownie.

Autumn Blend Super Muesli - available now (finally!)

2010-11-03T02:50:00.000-07:00

After much tweaking and tasting, the first of my limited edition range of muesli’s is now available for all those of you out there who love to eat! This one, the Autumn Blend, is inspired by the fruits and flavours of the season, with a fulfilling combination of apple, cinnamon, red raisin, and bramble, plus lots of toasty oats, nuts and seeds.

As with everything I make, taste certainly comes first, however, you might like to know that my Autumn Blend Super Muesli contains absolutely no added sugar, salt or fat, it’s wheat free, high in fibre, and chock full of vitamins and essential omega oils. The perfect breakfast for those that love to eat.

Order yourself a bag or two by email: nbalfe@gmail.com

400g = £2.50
800g = £4.50

I will either post your order out to you (postage and packaging cost tbc - I’m not quite that organised) or hand it over in person if our paths are likely to cross anytime soon.

Look forward to hearing from you!

Life in the Country

2010-10-27T13:03:00.000-07:00

Autumn had barely begun to wrap itself around the land the last time I decamped from city life in favour of a green spell in Dorset. The pastures shone rich and full of life, the trees still proudly bore their leaves, and the hedgerows showed only the beginnings of their bejewelling in shades of crimson and magenta. Veg patches, allotments and orchards were replete with the spoils of summer growth. Mackerel, pollock and bream, seeking shelter in the milder coastal waters, were in abundance. Spring lamb were now fully grown, and ready for slaughter. There could not have been a better time to experience life at Park Farm, a place better known to most as the River Cottage.

Whilst the television show paints a fairly accurate picture of what goes on at the River Cottage, it's hard not to wonder if the lifestyle and activities that are portrayed are actually constructed purely for entertainment and viewer ratings. The cynics amongst us must surely question Hugh's picture-perfect rural existence, which complete with Barbour jackets, Land Rovers, and an Aga, is just as well accessorised as Jamie Oliver's urban-utopia ever was in the Naked Chef series.

But there's no expertly-crafted aspirational lifestyle reconstruction here. The River Cottage HQ isn't a 2-D set made out of plywood in a studio in West London. Nor was it dreamt up in a brainstorm by a bunch of Execs, peering over a flip chart in a meeting room. It really is a working farm, where traditional varieties of fruits and vegetables, and rare-breed animals are tended to and looked after by people who care about what they're doing, whether there's a TV series being filmed or not.

The River Cottage is many things. It's a mass market entertainment product, on a mainstream TV channel in a prime time slot. It's a promotional vehicle for a lucrative publishing enterprise. It's an ever-expanding product range. It is, without doubt, a fully functioning brand, with a growing portfolio of assets. But it's also a hub for the local community, a social enterprise, and a valiant attempt at experimenting with new ways of getting by. At the heart of it all, there's much more than a balance sheet and a shareholder meeting. There's a group of passionate individuals who not only believe the patter that they're peddling, they live and breath it. And that's what really defines the River Cottage; the collective desire to experience and share a way of life.

It doesn't take long to get an idea of what this life at Park Farm entails. Undoubtedly, seasonality, sustainability and environmental responsibility are key values, but more importantly, there's a sense of openness; that all are welcome to chip in and get involved – staff and punters alike. Attending a dinner or course there, as I was lucky enough to do on one of my days off, is more like hanging out with old friends than it is a formal dining or learning experience. You have a laugh and enjoy yourself, primarily because you see that's exactly what the staff are doing too.

On occasion, a sense of (only just) organised chaos slips into place at Park Farm, whether it be in the timings of day courses being treated with industrial standard elasticity, or the sous chef running platters of half-cooked food from the main kitchen in the barn, to the private dining room in the farmhouse opposite in the middle of a dinner for 85, or the cows happily grazing in the sheep's field, with the sheep looking on with what can only be described as vacant jealousy. Despite the sense that any concrete rules have been put aside in favour of loose guidelines, in it's own way, everything always seems to play out to perfection.

In amongst butchering hoggets from the farm, to preparing razor clams and seaweed that had been foraged from the Dorset coastline, to thinking up new recipes on the spot for the slew of freshly-picked fruit and veg that the gardeners would offload to the kitchen on a daily basis, there was always a sense that experimentation is universally encouraged at the River Cottage. Indeed, it wouldn't exist at all if Hugh hadn't gambled on ditching his city life in favour of a radically different existence in the country.

In my short spell working there, I often felt refreshed by how little the River Cottage seemed to be bound by the usual conventions of business. After all, the River Cottage as a business would not exist if it had not evolved out of a lifestyle decision; a desire to try something different. Intrinsically, the lines have been blurred between home, farm, restaurant, TV show, brand, and lifestyle. In one way or another it's all of those things, it just depends on how you choose to experience it.

On my final day working at Park Farm, a trailer full of beef arrived at the kitchen doorway. It was one of Hugh's Devon Blonde cows, fresh from the abattoir. I don't think I've ever seen so much meat in one place in my life. Most of it was to be used for dinners and events at Park Farm, aside from the sirloins, which Hugh had baggsied for his own personal kitchen, but not before we'd had a taste, however. Head Chef Gill sliced off a couple of the biggest steaks I'd ever layed eyes upon. This was to be my Thanks and Farewell staff dinner.

Once the beef had been dealt with, and we'd skewered a suckling pig, ready for spit roast the following day, we downed tools and tucked into our steaks, which Sous Chef Neil had expertly cooked - just the way I had asked for it – halfway between rare and medium rare. As we discussed the weeks that had just passed, I couldn't help but be impressed by what has been created here at an old farm in a valley, on the Dorset-Devon border. The River Cottage shows just how good life can be when someone follows their dream... It's enough to spur me on to follow mine.

Some more of the pictures I took during my stage at the River Cottage can be found here.

Rossi's Ices

2010-10-27T12:18:00.001-07:00

Mum and I aren't the only fans of Rossi's Ices on Weymouth seafront. The first thing that owner Fulvio Fugliolini told me, before he was willing to discuss the ice cream, was that Rossi's has thousands of fans on Facebook. I found 56, but still, who's counting?

With another sunny day at the seaside, Rossi's service window remains open for another day... The look in Fulvio's eye, however, suggests he'll soon be packing up his ice-cream maker for winter.

Three of a possible five flavours today. Don't ask how they're made, as I made the mistake of doing. Don't ask for vanilla - it's Natural, ok? And definitely, whatever you do, don't ask for Mr Whippy!

Still, completely deserved of the title of "Weymouth's favourite". Long may their summer 2010 opening continue.

Judgement Sunday

2010-10-12T02:18:00.001-07:00

Cooking the perfect roast was never going to be easy... Especially not for 90! After lugging two huge ovens upstairs, spending (literally) days peeling spuds, chopping veg, and boiling stock pots, it was great to see so many happy faces on Sunday.

Chris, Mark and I are probably our own toughest critics, and whilst we might not have reached absolute perfection, I reckon we didn't do too badly at all. Thanks to everyone who came along - hope you enjoyed it as much as we did!

Ham hock terrine, Chris' mum's chutney, pickled golden beets, London's finest sour dough.

Rare-roast ribeye with the works: Yorkshire pudding, duck fat and polenta roast potatoes, braised red cabbage, and proper gravy, plus smashed root veg and sauted curly kale, rainbow chard and broccoli on the side.

Dark chocolate pot with my foraged crab apple, rosehip and hawthorn jelly, chantilly cream, and almond 'triscotti'.

Chris' sticky toffee pudding, with toffee sauce and vanilla ice cream... As described by one very satisfied customer as "orgasmic".

We're looking forward to the next one already!

(Thanks to Meesh for the photos)

Roasting!

2010-10-05T01:58:00.000-07:00

Let's face it, a good roast can be pretty hard to find in London these days... So along with two old mates, we're putting on our own... For a full explanation, I'll hand you over to my co-chef (or perhaps that should be Head Chef) for the day, Chris Elliman:

"Hi, I'm Chris and I’m a chef from Yorkshire, where we take our roasts very seriously... I was talking with a couple of friends the other day (Mark Holland, a former colleague - ﬁve years of cooking Michellin starred food, Nick Balfe - of this very blog), and we were discussing the perfect roast and how they’re hard to ﬁnd. Succulent, juicy, ﬂavoursome meat, crisp yet light Yorkshire Puddings, golden, crunchy, ﬂuffy roasties, rich, viscous gravy to coat the interesting, fresh, seasonal vegetables...

I used to work in a bustling little thatched roof pub, deep in the Yorkshire Dales. One of my regulars was a farmer who supplied all my Sunday veg in exchange for a roast for him, his wife and his grandkids. They’d always have the same table by the window and at the end of every Sunday service I’d get a big hug from Barbara, and Bob would shake my hand and say, “Chris-lad, she’s a bloody good cook and that was like Sunday lunch at home - but she let me drink more - see you next week!”. I loved cooking for Bob and Barbara.

So we found a nice little pub in the heart of Hoxton and told them our idea; We’ll buy the ﬁnest ingredients we can ﬁnd in London (Smithﬁeld for meat, local markets for my fresh vegetables), cook a perfect meal (risky, I know...), leave out the fancy chef’s presentation tricks to keep costs down (micro herbs anyone?) and hopefully make a few quid for a couple well earned beers. The succinct menu keeps the cost to you down too.

They said “great”, I enlisted a few friends, and here we are. We’ll provide the Bloody Mary's (for a fee of course!) and the papers, you come and join us, enjoy the day, and more importantly, enjoy the best value and quality roast dinner in North London you’ll ever have."

Due to flatteringly high demand, bookings for The Perfect Roast are now closed. Details of our next event will be released soon.

See you Sunday!

Grandma's apples (part 1)

2010-09-28T06:52:00.000-07:00

"Strong winds in the South West tonight" said the weather man, as I sipped my cocoa, and snuggled into my slippers, the night before setting off for Grandma's little patch of paradise, over looking the mouth of the River Ex.

He wasn't wrong. I arrived at Grandma's to find a garden full of windfall, a spotted blanket of Gala's and Cox's, spread across the lawn. Eager to put nature's bounty to good use, I returned to Dorset with bags full of tart, crunchy apples, and the beginnings of an idea for dinner...

Apple, shallot and Dorset Blue Vinnie tart

Rich, autumnal flavours, working in perfect harmony. The piquant blue cheese is the ideal compliment the slow-roasted sweetness of the apples and shallots. Use bought pastry if you like, but the whole meal homemade version adds a fitting rustic edge (literally) to this dish.

Serves four as a light main

For the pastry

250g whole meal plain flour

a pinch salt

125g butter, cut into chunks, at fridge temperature

1 egg yolk

50 ml milk

For the filling

four to six apples, peeled and quartered

four to six banana shallots, peeled and quartered

a few sage leaves, sliced

olive oil

salt and pepper

three whole eggs, lightly beaten

a dash of milk

200g Dorset Blue Vinnie or other blue cheese

First, make the pastry. In a mixing bowl, rub together the flour, salt and butter so the mixture resembles breadcrumbs (you can also do this in a food processor). Add the egg yolk, and a dash of the milk and mix together. A little at a time, add more milk until the mixture comes together into a dough. If you add too much milk, add a little more flour. Turn out, form into a ball, wrap in cling film, then refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

Heat the oven to medium. In a baking tray, toss the apples, shallots and sage in olive oil, and season. Roast for 20 - 30 minutes until soft, sweet, and almost caramelised.

Roll out the pastry to cover a 25cm pastry tin. Prick the pastry with a fork, then cover with greaseproof paper and rice or baking beans, and blind bake for 15 minutes until just golden. Remove from the oven.

Arrange the apples and shallots into the pastry case, then whisk together the remaining eggs and milk and season. Pour over the apples and shallots. Break the blue cheese into chunks, and dot over the tart, tucking into the filling where you can. Bake for a further 15 - 20 minutes until the egg mixture is set, and the cheese has melted.

Build and bake

2010-09-23T15:09:00.000-07:00

After what seems like a fair old slog of double shifts, I’m granted a temporary pass out of the kitchen, with the offer of taking part in the Build and Bake course down at Park Farm.

We start the day in the yurt, with coffee and flap jack, still warm from the oven, as tutors Steve and Gideon explain the running order. We hear this is one of the more hands-on courses, and we can expect to get more than a little muddy. With a chilly breeze in the air, and the sky washed out with shades of grey, it’s time to warm our cockles before getting stuck in. “I know it’s early, but it’s become a tradition,” says Steve, as he pours us all a nip of West Country apple brandy.

And off we trot to the pond, where after a brief lesson in geology, we set about digging up the materials that will eventually become our oven. After having collected bucket loads of the region’s finest Blue Lias clay, it’s back to the farm to get started on the construction.

The clay needs to be mixed with sand in order to be set solid in the correct form. But there are no mixers or machinery here. We have a Tarpaulin and people power, and that’s all we need. Steve informs us that the best mixing method is to dance the twist and rub the sand and clay together with our feet.

In the cold light of day, with no music, we ditch our inhibitions, and hit the dance floor, twisting away with our fellow Build and Bakers. Who knew a plastic sheet full of mud and dirt could be so good for the soul?

Before long, we’ve made a sand former, and built our clay dome around it. After some gentle smoothing, we agree we’ve created something verging on perfection, and retire to the barn for a hot mug of tea.

And now it’s Gideon’s turn. It was Gideon who built the first clay oven at the River Cottage, but now he’s passed the reigns of tutorship over to Steve, allowing him to concentrate on his fortay - bread making. With clarity and simplicity, he explains the basics of of baking, as we collectively mix, kneed and shape our very own dough.

Our oven is not quite ready for use just yet, but thankfully, Gideon has already fired up the larger ‘Spanish oven’ outside, and as well as a large batch of light, airy pizza dough, there’s a spread in the yard with delicious toppings, including smoked pollock, pork rillet, golden beetroot, Dorset blue cheese, bacon, shallots, even wild parasol mushrooms, picked from the pasture where the Park Farm cows normally graze.

Despite being warned that “these pizzas are not our lunch”, we all concoct gourmet combinations, taking turns to man the oven, whilst gleefully tucking into one another’s creations, sipping River Cottage Elderflower champagne all the while. As far as non lunches go, it’s pretty hearty.

After lunch proper, it’s back down to business. We shape our dough into loaves, and leave them to prove once again before baking.

The moment of truth... Apparently, the oven can collapse as it’s hollowed out, but ours seems sturdy enough. Steve conducts the final part of the session, holding his baby girl at his side. It’s less like a lesson, more like a mate giving you DIY tips.

Just as it’s time to leave, Gideon calls over from the oven, where our bread is risen and baked to perfection. With smiles on our faces, and steaming loaves under our arms, we set off up the hill, dreaming of a future of sizzled scallops, rare-roast steaks, freshly baked bread, and slow cooked joints, all from our very own outdoor clay ovens... All we have to do is go home and build them.

Abbotsbury squash box

2010-09-22T02:33:00.001-07:00

As seen on my commute to work the other morning.

Beans, beautiful beans

2010-09-20T13:20:00.001-07:00

The kitchen garden is bursting at the borders down at Park Farm. The beds are positively chock full with the spoils of early autumn. As we prepared lunch today for attendees of the excellent Pig in a Day course, the gardeners turned up in the kitchen with arm fulls of elegant, leggy runner beans, in need of a suitable home.

Generally runners wouldn't be my first choice accompaniment to a meal, but by pairing them with sweet, slow cooked baby red onions, the subtle earthiness of the beans really comes into it's own. Even if I say so myself, this dish was a bit of a hit down at River Cottage HQ today... Watch out for it in Hugh's column, or perhaps even the next book!

Runner bean and red onion caponata

There are a few steps involved in this recipe, but the effort certainly pays off. We served this as a side dish alongside roast pork loin, but it's more than worthy of being a dish in it's own right. It would also work as an unctuous, autumnal topping for bruschetta. The trick is getting fresh beans, and young, sweet onions.

Serves six as a side dish, two to four as a main

twelve red onions, peeled and halved

lots of olive oil

three or four bushy twigs of rosemary

three or four whole cloves of garlic, skin on and bashed

a few dozen runner beans, podded (the green pods can be composted)

two more cloves of garlic, chopped

a handful fresh sage leaves, finely sliced

a handful fresh thyme leaves, picked and chopped

a teaspoon dijon mustard

a splash cider vinegar

salt and black pepper

Put the onions and garlic in a roasting dish, and coat with lots of olive oil - be generous, as the excess oil will be used to dress the finished dish. Add the rosemary and salt and pepper, then cover with foil, and roast in a medium oven for at least an hour. This will bring out all the natural sweetness.

Meanwhile, pod the beans, then blanche them in salted boiling water for a few minutes until tender. Drain and refresh under cold water. Heat some oil in a frying pan, add the chopped garlic, and cook for a minute or two. As the garlic begins to colour, add the beans and saute for a few more minutes, before lightly crushing a few beans with the back of a spoon. Remove from the heat.

Remove the onions from the oven, discard the rosemary stalks, and pour off and reserve the excess oil, which will now be richly flavoured. Whisk the mustard and cider vinegar into the oil to create a hot dressing. Add the beans to the onions, then add the dressing, then add the fresh sage and thyme. Add the dressing, and gently toss everything together. Check the seasoning. Cover and leave in a warm place for the flavours to meld for 30 - 45 minutes.

Serve with roast meat, or on it's own with bread and salad leaves.

Way out West

2010-09-15T02:30:00.000-07:00

A rainy start to my two-week stage at Park Farm, on the Dorset Devon boarder... Also known as River Cottage HQ.

Remains of the day

2010-09-15T02:11:00.001-07:00

The sun goes down on Ridley Road Market, East London, as I leave town for Bestival, followed by two weeks at the River Cottage.

Born and bread

2010-09-02T14:56:00.001-07:00

Born & Bread: Peckham's finest purveyors wood-fired, sourdough bread to South East London and beyond...

Orders for the day. The B & B boys regularly get through over two thousands loaves in a single day of baking.

Like the loaves I'm learning to bake at the moment, everything is slow risen, using traditional sourdough starters.

And baked in their 1950s designed wood burning oven.

The stove burns something in the region of six cubic metres of wood each week. This might sound like a lot, but it's actually one of the most efficient, and environmentally sound fuels in existence.

The oven in it's glory. Manufactured by JJ Lopez in Barcelona, and built on site seven years ago at a cost of tens of thousands of pounds. The ingenious system within channels the heat evenly throughout the huge stone-based chamber.

Another important piece of kit in the bakery. We arrive at the end of the shift, and the beers are out, and reggae is rumbling from the stereo.

The optimum temperature for baking bread is somewhere 240 and 220 degrees centigrade. Dough responds best to a falling temperature, as the stove cools between re-firing. The initial blast produces a good crust, whilst the moist, light centre isn't over-cooked by prolonged intense heat.

Our take home. Ciabattas, seeded flutes, rye, and whole meal. Find out where you can get hold of your own batch here.

Family meal

2010-08-27T13:32:00.000-07:00

Left over corn, yellow courgettes, new potatoes and chocolate pudding for the family meal today at Rochelle Canteen. Accompanied by left over 1981 Domaine de Goubert Gigondas, and 1991 Domaine Tempier Bandol Cuvée Spéciale.

Graphic ingredients

2010-08-25T13:55:00.000-07:00

I do love leafing through old cookery books. You can never be quite sure of what delights you might come across. Except perhaps the obligatory over-zealous use of aspic.

Alongside two thousand three hundred-odd Italian inspired recipes, who would have thought from the cover that Luigi Carnacina's Great Italian Cooking, the first and only edition of which was published in 1968, would have contained such an array of fabulous illustrations. Take a look at some of the main ones here...

Time saving kitchen contraptions of late Modernity, side by side with native aromatics of the Italian countryside, backed by a bit of seemingly pointless hatching in the top left corner. Just excellent.

Plenty of brilliantly indiscernible items here. I particularly like the canape tray-cum-Playstation controller in the bottom left.

Some majestic looking artichokes, classic toad stalls, and a very scary looking cauliflower. Can anyone identify the levered contraption in the middle?

Bizarrely, the egg section is one of the biggest in the whole book. From frittatas to a straight forward coddle, Luigi's list is thoroughly exhaustive. I think these drawings are cracking too.

A magic wand, conjuring up a pie, with a sort of puzzled face looking on. And it's rare to see use of the word farinaceous. They just get better and better.

The turkey is good, but for me it's all about the spit roaster. Where can I get one of those?

A minimalistic view of the world of game... Good to see it's accompanied by a glass of something to drink, however.

A personal favourite. Look at that young calf - how cute! And the clever hanging dangerously above the pig's spinal column. Plus a T-Bone. Who knew a cartoon could make you salivate?

A comparison of Italian and American pork cuts. The Italian ones are fewer and larger, which to me, makes complete sense.

And this bashful looking porker caught my eye. Cheer up, Cheeky, you might not end up getting your foot stuffed.

A syringe, a very grand birthday cake, and a completely inexplicable jumping salmon. Thoroughly wonderful stuff.

If anyone would prefer these images not to be up here, just get in touch via email. And excuse the poorly-cropped shots!

Dough days

2010-08-25T11:23:00.001-07:00

Keeps me off the streets...

More SW9 time

2010-08-23T13:59:00.000-07:00

With each day that I spend there, I seem to become yet more enchanted by Brixton Market. I must have clocked up hours in the last couple of weeks, wandering through the arcades and alley ways, peering with marvel at the plethora of new and exciting goods that adorn the shops and stalls there.

An unassuming doorway on Market Row opens out into a vast, Tardis-like cash and carry, shelves full to bursting with everything from huge sacks of yam flour to graphically-labelled bottles of 'Stamina Tonic'. A tiny archway on Cold Harbour Lane, barely the size of a broom cupboard serves as streetwear boutique in miniature, the concaved wall displaying Air Max sneakers in every conceivable colour way. Meanwhile, next door, a man sells his collection of soul CDs, and a couple of dozen R&B records, whilst his subwoofer-come-stall top pumps out rare groove classics at block party volume. In the butchers hang whole goats, piles of smoked cow's hooves, and quite frankly vile looking dried catfish, that not even the manager knows what to do with. There are scotch bonnet and bread fruit bidding wars on Electric Avenue, as the tradesmen jostle for attention with one another, adorning their stalls with the flags of various West African and Caribbean nations. Life and energy are in abundance.

A one minute peek inside Nayme Bekyere Mini Market on Electric Lane soon turns into a twenty minute guided tour of the shop, as the owner, David, gives me the lowdown on every single product he thinks I might be unfamiliar with, and what they're used for in his native Ghana. And there are a lot! In the end, I leave with a tin of Ghana Best Palm puree, a few plantains, and half a dozen yellow baby aubergines, or 'garden eggs', as he calls them. Palm stew with plantain for tea tonight then... "You're going to enjoy this," says David, "it's good for your belly, and it''ll make you strong!"

Ghanian palm stew

I didn't use a recipe for this, but did have the benefit of fairly thorough instructions from my personal shopper and new buddy at the Mini Market. Against David's advice, I went fairly heavy on the hot chilli, but it works with the richness of the palm and slight sweetness of the plantain. Serve with rice and peas (or rice and kidney beans), and some plain yogurt to cool off with if you come across a stray scotch bonnet seed.

Serves four

a large onion, chopped

two cloves of garlic, chopped

two hot chillies, de-seeded and chopped

an aubergine, or six mini yellow aubergines, chopped into bite size pieces

a couple of plantain, peeled and sliced

a large sweet potato, peeled and chopped into bite size pieces

a tin of palm puree (available from African and Caribbean grocery stores)

a tin of chopped tomatoes

stock or water

a tin of black eyed beans

salt and pepper

In a large sauce pan, sauté the onion and garlic in a little oil for a few minutes until soft and translucent. Add the chilli, then the aubergine, plantain and sweet potato, and continue to cook for a few more minutes. (Alternatively, you can roast the aubergine and sweet potato separately and add to the mix after the palm puree.) Add the palm puree, and stir so everything is coated evenly.

Add the chopped tomato and stock or water as required, so there's enough liquid to cook the vegetables. Cover, and simmer for 20 minutes or so until the vegetables are tender. Add the black eyed beans and cook for another 5 minutes. Check the seasoning and serve with rice (and peas), and yogurt.

The opening shot of the market is taken from the Friends of Brixton Flickr group.

Jerk bits

2010-08-15T12:42:00.001-07:00

The annual Jerk Cookout, Brockwell Park. Yet another reason to love Brixton.

On the subject of sandwiches

2010-08-15T05:04:00.001-07:00

Left over beef from Elliot's excellent pop up in Victoria Park, plus a wander around King's Road farmer's market (that's how I roll) result in one of the greatest sandwiches of all time. Or at least since the chorizo and pepper grill on Friday.

Steak and blue cheese sandwich

What is there to say... It's a classic!

Rare-roast steak, at room temperature, sliced thinly

Blue cheese - we used pecorino piquante, a very tangy blue sheep's cheese from northern Italy

Fresh, open-texture sour dough bread

Radishes, thinly sliced

Lettuce leaves

Olive oil and balsamic vinegar

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Warm the bread slightly in the oven, then slice, and drizzle with plenty of olive oil. Crumble the blue cheese on first, then layer the beef so there are lots of nooks and crannys. Season with a little salt and pepper, and sprinkle the radishes over. Lettuce goes on last, then the Balsamic, and tuck in. I'm salivating...

Worker's lunch

2010-08-15T04:35:00.000-07:00

And if work involves flogging muesli on Borough Market, then what better way to stave off the hunger than one of Brindisa's legendary chorizo and piquillo pepper sandwich, plus a couple of juicy white-fleshed peaches.

Bombay mix in Bethnal Green

2010-08-12T16:23:00.000-07:00

A little slice of Karachi life on Bethnal Green Road, as I step out of Limehouse Superstore [sic - I assume this is the second branch, the first being in... Limehouse], blue plastic bags bulging with kohlrabi, okra, chickpeas for chana masala, and yellow split peas for dahl. There's a man and his street cart, shaking up avalakki mixture to order for passers by, just as they do in his home town back in Pakistan. At a pound a pop for plastic cupful, served with a wooden spoon and a toothless smile, is too much to resist!

Avalakki mixture

A zingy take on the standard Bombay Mix, just as it's served on the streets of Karachi. The oil and vinegar meld together with the chilly and coriander, whilst the mixture is shaken just long enough to bring the flavours together, without softening the crispy strands.

All quantities are to taste

bombay mix

chopped coriander

chopped chilly

ground nut oil

mustard vinegar (or white vinegar and mustard powder)

Add all ingredients to a container, seal, and shake to combine. Serve in snack size portions with a spoon.

Open for business

2010-08-04T04:23:00.001-07:00

Clearly there are loads of people who love to eat just as much as I do, but not everyone necessarily has the time, or the inclination, to do the cooking... Well, help is at hand!

As well as writing (a little bit), talking (quite a bit), and thinking (a lot) about food, I’m also offering my services as a personal chef / private caterer so you can enjoy tasty, inventive, professional-standard meals, without having to worry about the preparation.

So far, I’ve catered for high-end dinner parties, canape events, product launches, photo shoots, and fine-dining get-togethers, whilst clients have included everyone from production companies, to international charities, to some of London’s most highly-regarded chefs.

Here’s an idea of the kind of thing I can do for you:

Be your personal chef
If you’re hosting a dinner party, but don’t fancy doing the cooking, leave it to me, and I’ll take care of everything for you. Whether you’re working to a theme or looking for inspiration, I can help you create the perfect menu, then source the best ingredients, and cook a meal that will leave your guests with very big smiles on their faces.

Lend a hand
If you'd prefer to do most of the cooking yourself, but there's something you need a bit of help with - a souffle, some ice cream, or a little bit of butchery perhaps - I'll come over and either do a practice run with you, or alternatively, knock something up in advance so when it comes to the big day, all you have to do is enjoy yourself.

Teach you some new tricks
Want to broaden your repertoire, learn some new techniques, or just have a fun night in with your mates? I'm offering bespoke classes that will teach you anything from the basics of Spanish, Italian, Modern British, North African or East-Asian cooking, as well as lessons in bread making, preserving and conserving, sauces and accompaniments, and outdoor cooking. Each class includes a meal that we'll cook together.

*As a special introductory offer, I'm offering these classes on a pay what you feel it's worth basis. Just let me know what you want to learn about, and chances are I can help!

Offer some advice
Whether you're planning a big event and you're not sure where to start, or just want some pointers on refining the perfect menu, I'll help you get everything clear, then make a plan for whatever needs to happen next. I'm not a lawyer, and you won't get any extortionate fees for a five minute phone call... In fact, if I'm not too busy that day I might even do it in return for a coffee and a brownie at elevenses, or a pint and a scotch egg in your favourite watering hole!

My main aim is to be friendly and flexible, so get in touch and we'll see what I can do for you... Basically, I just want you to enjoy the food as much as I do!

Hope to hear from you soon...

Nicholas

Telephone: 07967 640 610

Email: nbalfe [at] gmail [dot] com

Summer harvest

2010-08-03T05:33:00.000-07:00

I can think of few more appealing ways to spend an afternoon than a stroll around Borough Market. As growers across the land experiment with lesser-known, heritage varieties of the many fine crops that flourish on our shores, fed by three months of exceptionally warm weather, the stalls are bursting with summer delights in bountifully generous quantities.

Farmers and their helpers stand proudly beside their early harvests in gleaming shades of red, yellow, orange, purple and green, sporting grins as wide as if they'd reached the finals of the Wessex county show. If you're lucky, you might just find out their tricks of the trade, as you browse punnetts of glistening berries, bundles of tender roots, and mounds of ripe, voluptuous fruits.

There's almost every variety of tomato known to man, from the striking Black Zebra, to gourmet's favourite San Marzano, mutant-like Oxheart, and the humble, but delicious, English Plum. Alongside, there are summer squash, soft green herbs, and piles and piles of deeply-coloured cherries, almost begging to be devoured. From further afield come, chic, elegant, white fleshed peaches, as juicy and delicious as anything I've ever come across. Biting into them instantly justifies the premium over their net-wrapped, ripen at home cousins, stacked in dark plastic crates, four deep in the supermarket shelves.

This may well be peak season for many of the tenderest, most elegant crops that are to be found sprouting in the UK. Time to enjoy the fruits that are born of a fabulous summer.

Beetroot top Minestrone

Having made a vibrantly-coloured pilaf from the beetroot bulbs I picked up at the weekend, the stalks and leaves looked far too appealing to be banished to the compost bin. Instead, the stalks, braised with spices to compliment their earthy flavour, and green leaves just wilted, made for an interesting, and extremely healthy, summer minestrone.

Serves four

the stalks and leaves from 8 - 10 beetroots

a generous pinch of cumin seeds

a generous pinch of fennel seeds

olive oil

three shallots or one onion, chopped

one or two cloves of garlic, chopped

0.75 litres vegetable stock

a tin of black eyed beans

salt and black pepper

Start by trimming the green leaves from the beetroot stalks. Cut close to the stalk up to the point of the stalk. Set aside.

Toast the cumin and fennel seeds in a dry pan, until they release a strong, nutty scent. Ground in a pestle and mortar.

In a large sauce pan, saute the onion in oil over a medium heat. After a few minutes, add the garlic and ground spices. After another few minutes, add the beetroot stalks and cook for another couple of minutes before adding the hot stock. Bring to a simmer, and braise the stalks for about seven minutes.

Finally, add the beans and warm through for about four minutes. For the last couple of minutes, add the beetroot leaves and let them wilt in the stock. Check the seasoning, and serve in soup bowls with a little drizzle of olive oil, and some bread to mop up with.

Brixton ting

2010-07-25T15:12:00.000-07:00

Don't cross The Baron. Unit 23, Atlantic Road.

Supermalt and other fine beverages.

Rasta Pasta... One of Take Two's many specialities.

Dried fish and extra hot peppers. No stall is complete without them.

Franco Manca: A little slice of Italy in Brixton Market.

The best pizza in London? It's definitely worth the trip South of the River.

Tea and Portuguese carrot cake in Brockwell.

Popping up in the park

2010-07-23T07:00:00.000-07:00

Working here tonight... By the look of this video, it's going to be quite an experience!

Elliots in the park from LUCY BEECH on Vimeo.

A new toy to play with (and a finely-chopped gazpacho)

2010-07-14T15:08:00.000-07:00

The heat wave may unfortunately be over, but still, after a day of scooting around the city, hurriedly attending to one's business, a clean, refreshing chilled soup will rarely go amiss.

Since I can afford to be a little more leisurely with my business at this particular time, I'm able there are plenty of opportunities for indulging in some of life's simple pleasures... After having purchased a dazzingly sharp new knife, I can think of few things more desirable than to while away a little while turning some ripe fruits and vegetables into a zesty, mellow-spiced gazpacho.

If you are more pushed for time, you can also mix the soup in a blender, although a few hand-sliced tomatoes, peppers and herbs will make all the difference.

Watermelon and mint gazpacho

When making this gazpacho, I basically chopped all the fruit, vegetables, and soft herbs we had to hand... The classic gazpacho is made from little more than tomato, pepper, cucumber and garlic - use that as your base and take it from there.

Serves 6 to 8, depending on portion size

six vine tomatoes, very finely chopped

two small red onions, very finely chopped

a spring onion, finely sliced

two red peppers, very finely chopped

one small cucumber, very finely chopped

flesh of a large slice of watermelon (roughly an eighth of the whole fruit), seeds removed, very finely chopped

half a head of cos lettuce or a couple of little gem, finely shredded

two cloves of garlic, very finely chopped

one red chilli, seeded and finely chopped

the juice of half a lemon and half a lime

a bunch of parsley, very finely chopped

a bunch of basil, very finely chopped

a bunch of mint, very finely chopped

half a litre of cold vegetable stock

a litre of tomato juice

a dash of red wine (or red wine vinegar)

Tobasco and/or Worcestershire sauce to taste

Salt and pepper to taste

Croutons and olive oil to serve

Mix all the ingredients together in a large bowl or pot, except for the croutons, olive oil, and chopped green herbs. Season, and leave to chill in the fridge for at least half an hour, if not up to four hours.

Serve with croutons, a sprinkling of herbs, and a drizzle of olive oil.

Pickled cherries

2010-07-14T03:55:00.000-07:00

Just because they're in season, and I had a spare afternoon. Oh, and I have a terrine to make... But more on that later. The recipe here is from Skye Gyngall's column in the Independent.

Makes roughly a litre in volume

1kg cherries
250g caster sugar
250ml red-wine vinegar
4 cloves of garlic
6 peppercorns

Rinse, dry and pick over the cherries discarding any that are bruised or imperfect. Leave the stalks on. In a generous-sized, non-reactive saucepan, stir together the sugar, red-wine vinegar, garlic and peppercorns. Bring to a boil and cook for around 3 minutes.

Have handy a couple of sterilised jars with the ability to hold approximately 1litre (13/4 pints). Pack the cherries into the sterilised jars. Pour the hot syrup over then cover and seal well.
Leave for the flavours to meld for anything from a week to a month. If the jar is properly sealed, they'll keep for a year.

Fine dining, festival style...

2010-07-08T05:04:00.000-07:00

Head to the end of the old railway track, turn right at the Mutant Waste sculptures, and follow the path past the crashed jumbo jet, and the freaky clown face merry-go-round. In the little yurt, next door to the all-night rock'n'roll diner lies the Rocket Lounge Restaurant... Come inside!

1950s Speak Easy evening wear only, please.

The menu. Octopus followed by Ox Heart, or Rabbit Terrine then the Lobster? Decisions, decisions...

And some champagne whilst you wait... The band are just warming up.

Heads down... either the food's too good for talking, or the drugs haven't kicked in yet.

All mod cons; Our kitchen in a field.

Still busy munching.

But after a couple more of these...

...they're all doing this!

View the rest of the photos here.

On Weymouth Harbour

2010-07-06T16:44:00.001-07:00

The moon has already taken centre stage in the sky as we round the corner from the Pavilion. Twilight has fallen, and the last of the evening light swathes the harbour in a spectrum of tranquil blues.

We make our way past piles of lobster pots and tethered fishing boats as their reflections slow dance on the water alongside us. It's well passed tea time, and after having walked the length of the beach, we've worked up something of an appetite.

Neon lettering calls out in garish red and green, as a photocopied sign below exclaims “AS SEEN ON ITV HOLIDAY PROGRAM AND CBBC”, complete with double underlining, and a few smudged greasy finger marks. Still, we don't need Judith Chalmer's endorsements to come to Bennett’s on the Waterfront... The smell alone is enough to make you swim across the harbour. The warm, nutty scent of freshly fried potatoes, and crispy beer batter fills the street as grinning punters emerge from the wood-paneled shop front, clutching steaming paper parcels. It's like a belisha beacon, calling out across the water. And I'm utterly mesmerised.

Inside it couldn't be more traditional. The décor consists of a few straggly pot plants, and a row of fizzy pop bottles on a shelf. If you're not sat at one of the Formica-topped booths, then your attention is automatically diverted to the counter. Two women in hair nets stand behind it, gossiping over local affairs as they lift fillet after mouthwatering fillet of fried fish onto the hot plate. I must have been in this chip shop fifty times or more, and still as I wait for the chips to be scooped out onto the paper in front of me, I can barely contain my excitement.

The chips are crunchy, browned along the ridges, but soft, light and floury in the middle, so hot and fresh they burn the roof of my mouth as I eat them. But there's no point in me even trying to stop myself. The flesh of the fish is firm, flakey, delicate; pure, brilliant white. The batter is golden, bubbled all over, and as crisp as conceivably possible. It’s heaven in fried food form. Sent from the Gods. Inevitably, I ditch my wooden fork and break inch-long chunks of fish off with my fingers, eager to feel the varying textures crumble into my mouth, all soused in plenty of salt and vinegar, plus the occasional dab of Heinz tomato ketchup.

We sit and munch our supper, sitting side by side on the bench that overlooks the launch of the mackerel fishing boat. I find it nearly impossible to say anything but “mmmmm” throughout.

And then up the hill to The Boot, where an odd ball assortment of characters spend their drinking hours, night and day. I come here for their perfectly-poured pints of Thatcher’s Gold, but today the Meat Raffle catches my eye first. It's almost enough to make me hang around until the weekend.

We share a table and a drink with very personable chap, who's so merry on the Cheddar Valley cider, he bursts into a fit of giggles with every sentence he attempts to spit out. “It's the worm wood barrels, you see...” I overhear at the bar, “it gives it a hallucinogenic quality.”

Maybe so, or maybe he's just enjoying his night on Weymouth harbour... Either way, who could blame him. Time for another round?

A very English sort of supper

2010-07-02T15:59:00.001-07:00

There's possibly nothing more appealing than the fresh fruits and vegetables of an English summer. Crisp beans, plump in their pods, ready to burst out with an audible pop. Peppery lettuces leaves, supple and bouncy, bursting with the vibrant green of six weeks of unprecedented sun. Voluptuous berries in shades of crimson and rouge, skin soft and ripe, a perfume more inviting than the finest floral bouquet.

In the West Country, where I'm currently taking post-festival R&R, there's certainly no shortage of excellent locally grown produce. And there's nothing quite like a trestle table bursting full of the finest farm produce to re-ignite the neurotransmitters. The best beans I've seen this side of the Mendip Hills...

English bean and cheddar salad

This dish is a homage to the simplicity of Chris Gillard's menu at the Rocket Lounge Restaurant, where I spent last week working. After having bought some positively firey watercress at Helen's Healthfoods in Weymouth, and some super-fresh beans at Bridport Farmers' Market, it seemed only fitting to keep the theme of classic English flavours by pairing the greens with some local mature cheddar. The piquant vinaigrette brings the flavours together beautifully.

Serves two as a light main
A large handful of broad beans, podded
A large handful of French beans
A large bunch of watercress
75g mature cheddar cheese, crumbled into chunks

For the mustard vinaigrette
A tsp of dijon mustard
A tbsp of olive oil
lemon juice to taste (roughly a tsp)
salt and finely ground pepper to taste

First, make the dressing. Either whisk the ingredients together in a large bowl, or add to a clean jam jar with a lid, and shake until combined. The mustard should help the oil and lemon juice emulsify.

If your beans are very very fresh, you'll be able to serve them raw. As they age, the natural sugar turns to starch, and the flavour and texture begins to deteriorate. Taste one of each, and if you'd prefer, blanch them for a minute or two in lightly salted boiling water, just to take away the bight. Drain and immediately plunge into iced water.

Combine the watercress, beans and cheddar in a large bowl, and toss with the dressing until everything is lightly coated. It's better to be skant and allow the flavours of the other ingredients to come through.

Serve with crusty bread, and extra dressing on the side for dipping and mopping.

An easy English berry fool

A quick, and extremely luxurious dessert, invented on the spot by my Mother, as a vehicle for her excellent home-made summer berry jam. Use plain yogurt or crème fraiche if you don't have fromage frais, and broken up Digestives, Hob Nobs, or shortbread would make an ample substitute for ratafia biscuits – whatever you have to hand.

Serves two
Four or five ratafia biscuits, roughly broken up
A small tub of fromage frais
Four scoops of raspberry sorbet (which Mum happened to have in the freezer, but Gorgio Locatelli's recipe looks good if you fancy making it)
Rasberry, strawberry, or summer berry jam
Mint garnish to serve

In a tumbler or wine glass, layer the jam, on top of the fromage frais, on top of sorbet, on top of the biscuit. Garnish with mint, and serve.

Thanks to kawilson for the opening shot of the broad beans.

West Country vibes

2010-06-30T14:49:00.000-07:00

Apples at the Powderham Country Park orchards.

And some pokey-sounding cider... They like it strong down here!

For Those That Love to Eat @ Glastonbury

2010-06-20T15:14:00.000-07:00

The travels may be over, but I'm not quite back to reality just yet. As of tomorrow, I'll be working at The Rocket Lounge Restaurant in the Shangri-La area of the wonderful Glastonbury festival!

Unsurprising, since the restaurant is the brain child of Chris Gillard, Head Chef at St John, the menu is suitably nose to tail affair, with a few indulgent twists... It will certainly beat the hot dogs and falafels!

Maybe see you there...

As I walked out one mid summer evening

2010-06-20T04:56:00.000-07:00

It was three quarters of a century ago that Laurie Lee's epic journey across Spain ended, guided by little more than a sense of adventure and a desire to broaden his horizons. Traveling on foot, he walked from Galicia to Andalusia, through town and country, dessert and mountains, immersing himself deep into what he so evocatively describes as "the firey heart of Spain".

His vivid, captivating account of the journey, As I walked Out One Midsummer Morning, has been a great companion to me on my own Spanish adventure... Rolling into two-horse towns in the middle nowhere, knowing no-one, and having no idea what my time there would bring. Many times I sought reassurance in Lee's beautifully poetic prose as I've virtually re-traced his steps, immortalised in ink on the pages in front of me.

In the passed five months, I've seen this huge and diverse country in many a new light. The gastro-paradise of the Basque Country; the hard, rugged mountains of Asturias; The steep valleys and rolling hills of Galicia; the best of city life, all hip barrios, fancy architecture, and urban beaches; I've found hotbeds of life in some of the country's most out of the way regions; Learnt Spanish by the beach, and walked alone in hectare upon hectare of open farm land, with only the odd cow as company.

I chose Spain for many reasons, but in reality, my over-riding motivation was the Spaniard's national adoration of all things pig, and their production of what in my opinion is the greatest food product in the entire world, jamón iberico.

If I was looking for pigs, well I certainly found them, getting much closer than expected at times. But it's not only the pork products that stand out in the memories of my trip. Repeatedly I've been welcomed into people's lives, treated as family, and experienced first-hand the pursuit of a lifestyle that is so different to what I had been used to, yet so utterly inspiring. The pursuit of a life based on personal interests and passions, following what you believe in, and a commitment to knowing that it is possible to make a difference, even if only your little corner of the world.

And now, inevitably, it is time for my journey to come to end. Like Laurie Lee, the final point in my journey is the coast of Andalusia; He left in midsummer 1935, on the eve of the Spanish Civil War, departing on a British naval gunship, on express despatch from Gibraltar. Meanwhile I'm catching the 22.05 Ryan Air flight to Leeds Bradford International. But hey, times change...

Hasta luego España. Te echaré de menos.

Todo del mundo

2010-06-18T05:47:00.000-07:00

There are many idiosyncracies of the Spanish language that I've come to love over the passed five months. The very liberal use of obscenities still makes a smirk slide across my face, whilst their use of 'no' as an affirmative is something I've fully bought into. But there's one turn of phrase that never fails to prick my ears up as being so illustrative of the nations attitudes when it comes to adding grandiosity to a statement, the laissez faire attention to detail, and most importantly, the all-inclusive nature of life here, particularly when it comes to socialising.

Todo del mudo – literally all of the world – is the default expression used to describe instances or situations that lots of people take part in. For example, you might say “a las ocho por la tarde, todo del mundo va a pasear y a tomar aperitivos” - “at eight in the afternoon(!), everyone goes for a stroll and to drink pre-dinner drinks”, or “todo del mundo en los hostales son Americanos” - “everyone in the hostels are American”. It's also very effectively used to describe places where a mix of people can be found, for example, un bar de todo del mundo.

For the last two days I've been staying in La Quinta luxury golf resort, just outside Marbella, Malaga. As nice as it is, I think it's pretty safe to say it's not a todo del mundo kind of place. In fact, I'd go as far as saying it's pijo giri (posh foreigner) kind of place. So when Wednesday came around, bringing Spain's first outing in the World Cup, I decided to head out of the resort in search of what's left of real life on the Costa del Sol.

Thankfully, just down the road is San Pedro. A fairly sleepy working class town, who's occupants fill the various service industry jobs that the resorts, hotels, and leisure complexes that stretch the length of the Costa del Sol necessitate.

After having pootled into town along San Pedro's calle principal, I wrestled the battered old Nissan that I'd borrowed for the day into a tight parking spot just outside the first bar I came to – Bar Manolo. As I edged backwards and forwards in the midday sun, all four windows down, and sweat forming on my brow under the heat and pressure, another car slid up behind me, casually double parking, as if the road itself was one long parking bay. I'm still fairly new to driving abroad, and this is a custom I've yet got used to.

Anyway, if La Quinta is a pijo giri kind of place, Manolo's bar is the exact opposite. Inside, silver-haired old men sat sipping glasses of red wine. Men in work boots stood at the bar with cold San Miguels. A drunk with a big red nose and shaky hands shared shared rounds of tinto de verano (red wine and Fanta limon), with a table full of business men who'd knocked off early for the afternoon. Young mothers sat lined up in a row at a table, as their kids ran around the bar in front of them, dressed head to toe in the Spanish strip, complete with red and yellow head scarfs, and national flags painted on either cheek.

Manolo's bar is definitely a todo del mundo kind of place. A cross section of literally the entire town had come together for Spain's first big day. At least three generations, sharing in the pleasure of a national event unfolding on the big TV in front of them.

As the afternoon wore on, and Spain's chances were continually thwarted, there were many a furrowed brow, shaking of heads, and vocal cries of “!joder!” (no translation for that one), but this was all interspersed by the cheerful gossiping at the tables, the wheezy laugh of the drunk to my left, and the energetic activities of the kids, entertaining the families and anyone who cared to pay them any attention, instead of the football match they'd come to watch.

As it happened, not even good old fashioned togetherness was enough to change Spain's luck that afternoon, but instead of brawling in the streets, the inhabitants of San Pedro strolled along the paseo, and ate ice cream on the terraces. It was nice to see todo del mundo watching their team lose, and remaining cheerful about it.

Credit to Clare Brody and fedegottardo for the images.

Chocolate con churros

2010-06-16T09:41:00.000-07:00

It's taken me five months to try chocolate con churros. And over two days last week, whilst in the company of French chocolate aficionado, I ended up indulging in this wicked, and most typically Spanish of combinations three times in a row.

Considering the weekend was spent in Granada, the historic capital of the Kingdom of Al Andaluz, the last stronghold of the Muslim's occupation of Spain, and a hotbed of all things arabic in the Peninsula, tea would have been a more appropriate beverage. As it was, my gallic traveling companion could barely function without her thrice daily fix, let alone pass a cafe without being drawn in by the lure of steaming mugs of chocolate.

In Spain, hot chocolate is served thick and gloopy, with a similar texture to custard. The default accompaniment are the deep-fried fingers of dough, drenched in white sugar, known as churros. It's a combination something akin to tea and biscuits in England, chips and mayonnaise in Holland, or grits and gravy in the deep south. Both are good, but the sum is greater than the parts...

After having had a rather gluttonous few months, I had designated my final fortnight as a time to behave myself when it came to idol snacking... My french companion, however, being a few years my junior, and therefore being in possession of a somewhat faster metabolism, had no such reservations...

But anyway, I'm still officially on holiday. The diet can start next week.

(Thanks to oboulko for the foto)

Kickin' off my boots

2010-06-14T07:42:00.000-07:00

My farming days, for the time being at least, are over...

(Image courtesy of berly816)

Los olivares

2010-06-14T06:43:00.000-07:00

If you would have asked me two weeks ago if I'd like to have my own olive grove sometime, I would have gone misty-eyed at the thought of hazy evenings spent strolling along the terraces, plucking fruits off the trees, and once a year, carting my crop of olives up to the press to make my batch of oil.

Now, after having spent the last ten days or so working at la Finca El Cercardo, I have something of a better idea of exactly what's required for a bumper crop of oil.

El Cercado is situated in the Lecrin Valley, in the foothills of the majestic Sierra Nevada, which tower some two thousand meters above. The finca has two and a half hectares of terraced olive groves, all of which needed to be weeded, strimmed, pruned and cleaned. The process is completely free of chemicals and pesticides, resulting in fabulously smooth, and completely organic oil.

(The image is taken from kellycrul on Flickr - my camera is still roto)

Naranjade

2010-06-07T08:37:00.000-07:00

A revitalising beverage for a summer's day in the Sierra. If you don't have oranges growing on trees in your patio, shop bought ones will do the job just fine.

Enough for 4 thirsty farmers

Two largesprigs of mint – a couple of dozen leaves

Sugar

The juice of six or seven juicy oranges

The juice of one large lemon

Water

Ice

In a large jug, 'muddle' half the mint leaves together with roughly a desert spoonful of sugar, as if you were making a mojito. Juice the oranges and lemons into the jug, and add the same volume of water. Add the remainder of the mint leaves and refrigerate for a couple of hours. Serve in tall glasses over plenty of ice.

A walk in the dehesa

2010-06-02T05:20:00.001-07:00

La Finca Banega, my current home from home, nestled in 350 hectares of dehesa in the Sierra de Aracena.

The only company are the oak trees, and a herd of native Iberian breed cows. A happy life on the farm, resulting in top quality meat for the table.

Wild flora of the dehesa.

Sunset over the Sierra.

El Museo del Jamón

2010-06-02T04:41:00.000-07:00

Aracena is a fairly typical Andalusian pueblo, all white-washed buildings and fountain-centered plazas, tucked away in the mountains of rural northern Huelva. Over an hour's drive from the nearest city, it's verging on the middle of nowhere, except for when it comes to the jamón industry, of which it is virtually the centre of the world.

Or one of four centres (if that's possible?) of the world to be precise; The area around the sierra is one four denominacion de origen, marking jamón of particularly high quality in Spain. The others include Dehesa de Extremadura, Badajoz; Jamon de Guijuelo, Salamanca; and Los Pedroches in Cordoba.

Naturally, upon arriving in Aracena, my first stop was the Museo del Jamón...

Greeted by a wall of hanging hams... Mmm, que huele!

A statue of Alberto Germán Franco, outside the museum, "a tribute to all the people who have worked in the Iberian Pig Sector". I'm proud to be able to claim that applies to me!

All quiet on the southern front

2010-06-02T04:16:00.000-07:00

It was almost like being in time warp. A parallel universe, existing outside of space and time. Every bar, cafe, shop and apartment had shut out the world, hiding any signs of life behind steel shutters. I crept through Plaza De Las Angustias, caught in a daydream where the world was inhabited by me, and me alone.

With my shirt damp against my back, I limped to a table outside the first cafe I came across that hadn't shut it's doors for the afternoon. Shadows softened as the sun's rays were filtered through the thick, sticky clouds that shrouded the city. The atmosphere was hot and damp, carrying the unmistakable musty scent of slowly fermenting grapes...

Clinging to the fringes of the sprawling conurbation that rims the Bay of Cadiz lies Jerez de la Frontera, a city of great historical significance; A bustling trading settlement in the reign of Al Andalus, a strategic outpost during the years of the Reconquista, and an important industrial hub in more modern times.

Influences from it's history both recent and ancient are proudly displayed throughout the city. Grand edifices of bygone colonial times share real estate with raff-and-tangle concrete palaces of the post-industrial age. Old and new sit side by side, decorated with dusty yellows and glistening azure blues that are so typically Andalusian. And amongst it all, in the courtyards, store houses and side streets from the old town to the outskirts are bodegas. For whilst Jerez may seem like little more than a sleepy, if handsome, industrial city, it is of course, the centre of the world when it comes to sherry.

Strolling from street to deserted street, not a single sole crossed my path. The huge wooden doors of the bodega I'd been meandering towards were bolted shut, as if the staff had left town, planning never to return. Still, I knocked.

After a humid few minutes wait, I was just about to turn on my heals when the doors creaked and slowly swung open, to reveal a beautiful vine covered courtyard. At the entrance stood a weary looking employee, Ignacio, who seemed so surprised to see anyone, he invited me for a look around. Ignacio turned out to be El Heffe, and whilst he was well over due for his siesta, he said he had just enough time to show me round.

As we walked amongst the barrels, he explained the cyclical fermentation process and how the conditions created by the humid micro-climate in the area, and their superior oak barrels allowed them to mature their wines for upwards of 20 or 30 years before bottling. This particular bodega, after all, exclusively produces V.O.S (vinum optimum signatum) and V.O.R.S (vinum optimum rare signatum) sherries and brandies. Basically, the best.

After a brief look at the owner of the bodega, Joaquin Rivero's private collection Renaissance art – which included two royal portraits by Goya – we reached a private room which is normally used to hold tastings for clients far more esteemed than I. But my luck was obviously in that day, or Ignacio just fancied a night cap, as he began pouring glasses for the both of us, first of their 25 year old V.O.S. Fino, then the V.O.R.S, then an Oloroso, then a 45 year old Gran Reserva brandy. Four glasses of fine vintage liquor at that hour of the day is enough to make anyone sleepy...

Back in the centre of town, as the long afternoon nudged it's way towards the evening, the city finally began to wake up. Old ladies sat huddled around the tables in the cafeterias, gossiping to one another as they snaffled deep-fried churros and dunked them into their mugs of steaming hot chocolate. Young folk gestured wildly to one another as they discussed their plans for the evening over quick cups of cafe con leche. Parents drinking beers on the terraces, as their kids played football in the square in front of them.

I sat outside a bar, sipping an Oloroso - ice cold, full bodied, carrying the taste of the barrel, and very slightly sweet - and watched the life flood back into the streets. Maybe Jerez de Fronter isn't so quite after all... They just take their afternoon napping seriously.

La Sierra de Aracena

2010-05-28T10:38:00.000-07:00

Goodbye Cadiz, hello campo...

Problema pequeña

2010-05-28T09:36:00.000-07:00

My camera is broken :(

No pics until I fix it / figure out how to get all the old ones off.

Lunch over looking Africa

2010-05-25T09:29:00.000-07:00

Tarifa... The Southern most point of mainland Europe, where two continents stretch out to one another, finger tips almost within touching distance. Arabic and Iberian culture fuse with one another after years of fruitful cross pollination.

Climbing through the winding streets through the old town, the languid, easy going nature of this city becomes apparent. For years it was a fiercely faught-over gateway to neighbouring civilisations, now it's one of the biggest attractions on the the Costa De Luz; A welcoming pit stop for travellers heading South into Africa, and a haven for the wind and kite surfers of the world, all searching for the perfect rip.

The most traditional of Andaluz cafes spill out into the streets and plazas, complete with all the Arabic hallmarks of palms, fountains, and blue and white mosaic tiles. Meanwhile 'alternative' culture nestles in comfortably besides, all ecotherapies, vegan pizzas, piercings, tattoos and dreadlocks.

At the highest point of the town stands the Mirador Del Estrecho. A single tower standing proudly to attention, presenting a Spanish flag across the water to Tangier, Morroco and the remainder of the world that lies beyond.

Sheltering to one side of the courtyard that surrounds the lookout, I lay my lunch out on the bench beside me. It's a modest assortment, but nonetheless, one I don't think I'll ever tire of: Fresh bread, ripe tomatoes bought from an old lady at a street stall, and a sweet, juicy orange bearing the paper wrapper branding of Naranjos Sastre de Sevilla. I stare out to sea for minutes on end between each mouthful, and the next time I look at my watch, almost an has passed before me. It's amazing how enthralling a dark band across the horizon can be...

Below lies the Playa de Los Lances where the the world's second largest ocean is funnelled into a bottle neck at the Straights of Gibraltar, there are five kilometres of windswept shore that is constantly pounded with the full force of nature's elements. After stashing my bag beneath an as yet unopened beach bar on the sand dunes, I head off to the water, spending the remainder of the afternoon body boarding in the frothy white waters of the Atlantic.

When I return, the owner is at the bar, adding a lick of paint to the exterior before the season gets underway on the first weekend in June. With shades wrapped across his eyes, and long hair blowing in the wind, he tells me how he spends four months here, four months at his other chiringuito in Uruguay, and the remainder of the year with friends in his native Madrid. I wonder if life could be any more perfect.

After drying off in the evening sun, I head back to the old town, plonking myself at the first table I see on the terraces of palm tree-lined Paseo de la Alamedas. I order my current favourite dish, calamari a la plancha, and sit sipping a beer, eating olives, and dunking chunks of bread into a saucer full of olive oil that's so piquant it makes my tongue tingle. Not even the warblings of the billowing-voiced American on the next table can spoil my sense of contentment, as he recalls his time serving in The US Army, as if the whole of Tarifa were his audience.

I finish my meal as the sun finishes it's long, slow kiss with the ocean, far away on the horizon. Leaning back on my chair, I look to the south, as the last of the highlights drop from from the cliffs of Africa's northern shores. The light dims over the Costa De Luz. A whole continent begins to fade into the dark, evening sky. And then, it is gone.

Little creatures, big in Andalusia

2010-05-21T04:54:00.000-07:00

Caracoles, or snails, are somewhat ubiquitous in Andalusia. Any cerveceria or tapas bar worth it's salt will advertise their availability on a black board outside, with the inscription "Hay caracoles", or just as often, simple with a crude drawing of snail, complete with cartoon-esque eyes at the ends of the antenna.

After a game of football last night (students versus locals), we ate them as a snack in the bar opposite the football field, skewering the little fleshy lump and levering them at of the shell. Nice as they were, next time I might be tempted to stick to a banana and a Lucozade.

Cadiz

2010-05-20T04:34:00.000-07:00

Spanish school beside the seaside...