Saying hello and goodbye to Franks

One of the artworks at Franks

Trying to convince friends to spend their Saturday night on top of a multi-storey car park in Peckham is not one of the easiest things we’ve ever had to do. But anyone who’s had the fortune of going to Franks Bar this summer will vouch that it’s possibly one of the best nights out you can have in London – which is why we were simultaneously happy and sad to make it to the pop-up Campari bar’s final night this year.

It's a bit like one of those Southern Comfort ads...

Franks is a minimalist but soulful bar-cum-artspace that takes industrial chic to a whole new level. Located on the top floor of the imaginatively titled “Peckham Multi-storey carpark”, the bar was designed by Paloma Gormley (Anthony’s daughter) and wouldn’t look out of place on Ibiza’s La Salinas beach. A stylish, enviro-friendly wooden structure complete with chill out cubby holes, and large eating areas, where everyone automatically mixes with each other in a state of mutual appreciation for the vibe and setting, this is an incredible hidden gem.

By the time we’d walked to the top of the carpark, checking out the art as we went, we were hungry. The food is creative, simplistic, tasty and cheap. We had sardines, grilled vegetables with humus, lamb steaks, Homemade bread and minted green salad – £21 for three people, that’s the total price, not the cost per person. To accompany the food we drank ice cold Peroni’s (£2.50) and Chilean Merlot while the DJ spun some tracks ranging from Metronomy and Hot Chip to reggae beats and soul.

said DJ

The panoramic view from Franks Bar is one of the most spectacular views of London’s skyline that you will experience. Looking east to west we were transfixed by St Pauls shadowy silhouette, the multicoloured evening lighting of the London Eye and firework displays emanating from well healed Chiswick and Kensington Saturday night garden parties. Being its last night this year,  because, as one of the charming Camberwell art school-ite waitresses put it – “it’s getting too cold” – the night descended into a raucous party of dancing on tables as we said goodbye to our favourite drinking spot of this year.

By Rosie Birkett and Jim Heslett

Wonton soup for beginners

Anyone who follows my Twitter feed may have noticed that I’ve had a bee in my bonnet about wontons for these past few days. The reason? Well combined with the fact I’m a slight monomaniac, over the bank holiday weekend I was cooked some rather delicious wonton soup by a friend’s mum in between freezing my non-existent nuts off, and catching a nasty cold at the Leeds festival.

Lovely warm wonton soup

Said friend is of distant Chinese extraction, and he and his mum are dab hands at making their own wontons.  Sipping the hot, fragrant broth through chapped lips – the steam easing my bunged up nose, was a little bit like a scene from a Lemsip advert. And the little parcels of minced pork, punctuated with crunchy water chestnut and spring onion, were utterly lovely, keeping me full and warmed-up enough to face a day of harsh festival going.

Needless to say, as soon as I returned to the south (and to this, all of a sudden autumnal, weather) I just had to make some.  Having asked my friend’s mum to explain the recipe to me, I went in search of wonton skins (the pastry casing) and had no joy in Balham. Tooting, and it’s status as what middle class people call “vibrant” was the next obvious choice, so I hopped on the tube only to be faced with a vast array of Asian, but not Chinese or ‘oriental’ food shops.

After walking seemingly aimlessly down the road (having been looked at in most shops like a loony for asking for wonton pastry), I came across the Tooting covered market, and lo and behold, there was a lovely lady selling pretty much all the ingredients I needed at a very reasonable price.

I later found out from @Liz_Upton that the pastry is very easy to make without leaving your kitchen, which is good to know for next time. This is her recipe.

This is my recipe for wonton soup. It may not be the most authentic one out there (it was muddled together from memory and from what I like) but it was very delicious when I made it. Enjoy!

Ingredients

For the broth:

Bouillon or stock
Lemongrass, sliced thinly
Spring onion, chopped
Ginger, shredded
A dash of soy and sesame oil

For the wontons:

A packet of wonton skins (one packet does about 40)
Minced pork, 500g
A few juicy, cooked king prawns, finely chopped
Water chestnuts, finely chopped
Half an onion, finely chopped
Three spring onions, finely chopped
Half a green chilli (optional), finely chopped
One crushed garlic clove
A dash of lemon juice
A glug of soy
A dash of sesame oil

Method:
Mix all the filling ingredients up in a bowl, making sure the ingredients are as evenly distributed as possible:

Mince and filling ingredients

Then break of little bits of the mix, and roll them into neat little balls in the palms of your hands. Place them on the pastry (which you might want to stretch a bit to make it easier to seal):

rolled up filling on laid out pastry case

Now pull each opposite corner to meat each other, twist and seal. You’ll find a rhythm with this, and figure out which way suits you best. Then voila! You’ve got your wonton. Repeat 39 times…

Wonton!

Now to the soup. Get a big pan with a lid, place the ginger, lemongrass and spring onion in it.  Mix up your stock – I’d say about four tsps of bouillon per litre – and add to the pan with the soy and sesame oil. Heat over a medium flame for a few minutes to let the spices infuse.

Then add the wontons carefully – depending on the size of the pan and how many you’re cooking for do them in batches of about 20 each (you can freeze the rest). You want to allow 7-8 per person. Put the lid on and simmer gently for 10-12 mins, basting occassionally. During the last couple of minutes add some washed pak choi – cooked until softened and serve in soup bowls. YUM!

Soup, soup, a tasty soup

Gone fishing: lunch at One O One

One of the delicious oysters

Pascal Proyart knows his fish. You could say it’s in his genes. The grandson of a Brittany fisherman, he’s quite open about the fact he will one day retire back to the region, swap the big smoke for sun and sea, and spend his days out on his boat, fishing rod in hand.

But in the meantime he can be found in his kitchen at One O One, serving up some of the finest surf and turf on the scene, fusing international influences with delicious ingredients into imaginative combinations for the benefit of us lucky Londoners. Recently, on a trip to Rungis market the chef marvelled at my whelk eating capacity, so of course I was keen to visit his restauant and show him my other well-polished eating skills.

Though a fine dining spot and no mistake, One O One is currently offering fantastic offers off its lunch menu on the website and it’s well worth taking advantage of, if, like me, you’re on a journalist’s wage. I kick start the meal with the ‘oyster experience’ – a trio of big, juicy rock oysters served three ways:  with shallot vinegar, yuzu sorbet and vodka and tempura.

The oyster experience

They’re all lovely (except for the fact that I get brain freeze from slurping back the yuzu sorbet) but my favourite is definately the tempura – crunchy and creamy all at once, with a pipette shot of intense soy that is squeezed inside the batter by our waiter. I could have eaten about ten. Next comes red tuna tartar with soft shell crab tempura, sushi rice and wasabi sorbet. Just look at it:

Red tuna tartar with soft shell crab tempura

Looks nice, doesn’t it? Well it tastes even better. Anyone who’s seen me in Song Que on the Kingsland Road will know that I have a bit of a thing for soft shell crab tempura. I think it’s the same thing that lots of women have about chocolate – if I’m feeling down, for example, I’d much rather curl up on the sofa with a bowl of soft shell crab in garlic and chilli, than eat a bar of Galaxy.

But here the crab is just one element of the dish. The contrast between the soft, cool tartare and the hot, crunchy tempura crab is wonderful – both fresh flavours igniting on the palate. The wasabi sorbet is a strong component, its green, pungent ooze melting into the squishy sushi rice as I eat my way through the dish. The clean, Asian influence of this dish makes it a perfect starter – incredibly tasty but not over-powering, and leaves me basically salivating in anticipation of the next course.

For the main course I was tempted by the Brittany sea salt crusted, roasted seabass for two (which is carved for you at the table) but my eating compadre wouldn’t play ball, so I go for the slow cooked skrei Arctic cod from The Barents Sea, which comes with joselito chorizo carpaccio and squid a la plancha.

Slow cooked Arctic cod with squid a la plancha

The cod is light and dreamy and falls apart into the creamy saffron sauce, while the chorizo and squid gives the dish a colourful Spanish tone. There are complex flavours at work here – the spice of the sausage carpaccio and the richness of the squid, but it’s a stunningly light and balanced dish.

My new found respect for desserts means that for once I opt for a sweet finishing course of poached pears with liquorice ice cream, chocolate sauce and delicious meringue thins and it’s exactly what I want my pudding to be: devilish and sophisticated. The poached pears remind me of my mum, who is forever poaching stewed fruits in alcohol, and the chocolate sauce is the sort of thing you want to lick off your finger with vigour. And I do.

Poached peaches

All in all then, a very nice lunch. May I suggest you get yourselves down there and have a go at either the half price a la carte, or the business menu, where you can make yourself a little tasting menu of some of Proyart’s dishes for under £20.

Pascal proyart knows fish. You could say it's in his genes. The grandson of a brittany fisherman, he's quite open about the fact he will one day retire back to the region, swap the big smoke for sun and sea, and spend his days out on his boat, rod in hand.   

But in the meantime he can be found in his kitchen at one o one, serving up some of the finest surf and turf on the scene, for the benefit of us lucky londoners. Recently, on a trip to rungis market -link- the chef marvelled at my whelk eating capacity -link blog- so of course I was keen to visit his restauant and show him my other, well-oiled eating skills.

Though a fine dining spot and no mistake, one o one is currently offering fantastic offers off its lunch menu on the website -link- ...

Doing the truffle shuffle: 8 pastry chefs, 15 desserts and a lot of Valrhona chocolate

I’ve always been more of a savoury than sweet kind of girl. When it comes to dessert, I’m more likely to order a nice big cheese board than a devilish pud, and by the time it gets to petit fours I’m usually over-faced. But, after a few days spent at the Ecole du Grand Chocolat school in the Rhone Valley with pastry chefs from some of the Britain’s best restaurants, I don’t think I’m ever going to look at a dessert menu in the same way ever again.

Phillipe Givre teaches the chefs a thing or two

Led by former Troisgros pastry chef Phillipe Givre – a tall, impressive bespectacled Frenchman whose culinary artistry is so meticulous it’s almost hypnotic to watch – the British chefs learned recipes and techniques to use with Valrhona chocolate. In case you’re not familiar with it, Valrhona chocolate is thought by many in patisserie to be the best in the world. It’s been produced at the factory in the Rhone Valley since 1922, and in 1989  the Ecole de Grand Chocolat cookery school was set up by Frederic Bau (the legendary pastry chef whose new restaurant I’ll be reviewing on here shortly).

Every year the training centre welcomes chefs from the trade to work with Valrhona’s chefs and create some classic and forward-looking dessert recipes. And boy, do they know what they’re doing.

Green apple opaline - beautiful

Because pastry is done in stages, the chefs spent the first few days on the prep – making the sauces sponges opalines and suchlike  – and lucky old me got to join them in the kitchen on the final day for the main event: the tastings (I know, I know – it’s a tough job, right?).

And so the chefs started preparing the 15 desserts – yes that’s right, I ate 15 puddings in one day, just call me Chunk – and I watched, taking notes for the forthcoming article. Then we tucked in: chocolate ganache with a wonderfully delicate tea-infused ice cream and pink grapefruit; toffee apple sponge with caramalised brioche and green apple sorbet; deep fried, filo-pastry coated chocolate with pan-fried pineapple and coconut sauce… the list goes on. See for yourselves:

chocolate ganache, tea-infused ice cream and pink grapefruit

Valrhona's version of a deep-fried Mars bar

Toffee apple

I’ll be writing a more in depth article on the Trip for Yes Chef! – which I’ll keep you posted on, but in the meantime, what’s been your best ever dessert? Tell me about it…

Pass the whelks

I’ve just got back from a visit to Rungis – the world’s biggest fresh produce market just outside of Paris. I was there writing an article for Yes Chef magazine and in the company of four esteemed chefs – the legendary Pierre Koffmann, Pascal Proyart, Mark Jordan and James Dugal. Just in case you’re picturing something similar to Borough Market, I’ll put it into context for you: Rungis is 232 hectares in size – bigger than the state of Monaco.

Some fish at Rungis

Little squids

The night before our tour of the market (which was to start at 3am) we went for supper at the age-old fish restaurant A La Maree at the edge of the market. It’s a jovial, fast-paced sort of a place that always delivers on quality, cooking with produce from the market, which is of course, only of the highest quality.

A La Maree fish restaurant at Rungis market

While we waited for our food I watched as people tucked in to sky-high plateu de fruits de mers and it brought back memories of childhood when I used to sit, whining next to my parents to throw me scraps from their platters. And that, my friends, is when I first fell in love with whelks, or sea snails, as they’re also known.

My mother being a little more protective of her side of the plateu than my dad (he no doubt had the lion’s share anyway), it was usually him that was more of a soft target for some fishy offcuts. And he used to give me whelks. Not being the most elegant-looking of the marine gastropod molluscs, I wasn’t sure at first, but once I’d tried one of the creamy, minerally snails dipped in some proper French mayonnaise, I was a convert.

Anyway, back to A La Maree – I started with six exquisite escargot in Roquefort, which were absolutely delicious and came in handy little pots which I subsequently dipped my baguette in. Across from me Pascal and Pierre were tucking into a bowl of said whelks. On seeing that I wasn’t averse to eating slimy creatures from shells, Pierre kindly offered me one, which I ravished with such an expression of joy, that after that he just kept placing them on my plate.

Yummy escargot and Roquefort

Pierre Koffmann, Pascal Proyart and some nameless oysters

It’s not everyday you share whelks with Pierre Koffmann, but what really struck me was quite how surprised him and Pascal were by me enjoying them. “It’s so wonderful to see a young girl such as yourself enjoying sea snails,” said Pascal. I’d never really thought about it before, but now I do, perhaps I am in the minority. What about you, dear readers, do you like to indulge in the wonders of whelks? Or do you know any lovely whelkish recipes? Share them with me.

Blooming Brilliant: meeting April Bloomfield

And, like a hungry child to a mother’s teet, I managed to sniff out what I’m pretty sure is one of the hottest restaurants in New York – The John Dory. I’d heard a lot about its chef April Bloomfield before the trip, perhaps because she’s British, and is one in that rare breed of female and Michelin starred chefs.

The open kitchen at the John Dory

Bloomfield won a star for her first opening The Spotted Pig, perhaps New York’s first successful gastropub, where she endeared New Yorkers with her relaxed environment and well executed, British-inspired fare. Since opening her second restaurant The John Dory in Manhattan’s Meatpacking district, she’s been lavished with praise – including a five star review from our very own AA Gill, who described the food at the fish restaurant as “cod-fisted, fishy-fingered food, made with panache and a big mouth”. So of course, I was dying to meet the woman herself, and that’s exactly what I did.

“It’s exciting opening a new restaurant,” she says from her perch at the dining bar at the John Dory (the counters are perspex filled with glinting fake fish). “You get to do things differently, improve on your first one and it’s nice because I had so many people who were coming up though the ranks at the Spotted Pig. It was great to be able to transfer them into another project and see them grow and blossom into bigger and better things.” There’s a definite American twang to her voice – she harks from Birmingham but you wouldn’t know it – it’s the neutral voice of someone who left their hometown long ago.

April Bloomfield at the John Dory, holding a John Dory

So I’m intrigued to know how she came to find herself opening a restaurant in this wonderful city. She tells me about working at the River Café in London with Rose Gray and Ruth Rogers for quite a long time, and feeling ready for “a different experience”. “I knew that I couldn’t go any further at the River Café – I was already their sous chef, I was already writing menus and doing all the ordering and I felt like I couldn’t go any further up the ladder.” So when she heard via a friend that Jamie Oliver was recruiting a chef to open a restaurant on behalf of New York band manager-turned-restaurateur Ken Friedman (who, it tells us here, used to manage the Smiths), she put her name forward.

“He [Friedman] phoned me and asked if I wanted to come to New York, and I was very blasé about the whole thing,” she laughs. “ I was like, “well, you know, yeah” – and two weeks later I was on a plane to New York for a whirlwind weekend of cooking, drinking and meeting Mario Batali. I got the thumbs up from Mario and they offered me the job and I took it, and I’m glad I took it.” And so am I. Without seeming to trivialise things, the starter ‘oyster pan roast’ which I eat that evening during my meal at the restaurant turns out to be the best thing I ate in New York, and possibly one of the best things I’ve ever eaten in my life. And you know how I feel about oysters.

The DELICIOUS oyster pan roast

It doesn’t come cheap mind. An oyster pan roast starter will set you back $19 – but believe me it’s worth every cent. Excuse me while I rhapsodise: The miraculous concoction (pictured above) comes in a little bowl, the thin, pale broth looking unassuming with a dash of olive oil and pinch of cayenne pepper floating on top. But the first slurp packs a punch so rich in flavour, so headily delicious that you’ll be gulping the dregs straight from the bowl before you know it.

The broth’s flavour comes from cream, shallots, white wine and lemon and is incredibly intense – the soft, lilac grey oysters minerally and bursting with freshness. It comes with a little crostini spread with sea urchin butter – an ingenious salty substance that brings the straight-from-the-sea element that’s lost with the cooked oysters back into the dish. It’s incredible. I’m going to have to leave it there, even though I have much more to say (and more quotes from Bloomfield) – otherwise this will be a tome rather than blogpost. Bloomfield was delightful – she’s opening another restaurant in NYC called the Breslin shortly – I just wish she’d open one in old Blighty.

Vodka pizza is genius

I know I promised write ups on Ducasse and the John Dory, and they’re coming – but I had to show you this first. Ever heard of vodka pizza? Look at this:

A lip-smackingly good slice of pizza from Pomodoro, NYC

Have you had a good look? Savour it, every moment of it, because unless you plan on making the trip over to the other side of the pond any time soon, this is about as close as your going to get to one superior slice of pizza. We came across the joyfully cheap and cheerful Pomodoro pizza on Spring Street in Little Italy, when we’d worked up an appetite wandering the streets in search of somewhere that did pizza by the slice. They weren’t as plentiful as we were expecting, with many of the streets lined with more up-market trattorias – but we wanted the sliced variety rather than the served-on-a-square-plate-with-some-rocket-leaves sort.

And we got it here, along with pretty nonchalant service and nasty lager. But the point was it was incredibly thin and crispy, with chewy, stringy, creamy mozarella and moist with just the right amount of olive oil and herbs. The real wow factor came from the extra tangy kick of the vodka that the restaurant uses in its tomato sauce. I’d never had vodka sauce before, hell – I’d never even heard of it – but I whole-heartedly reccommend it. A slice here set us back about six dollars or less. Delish! Food Network has got a pretty good recipe for it here if you fancy trying it out at home.

Special report: A New York food and drink odyssey Part 1

I’m back from my virgin voyage to New York with Gemma and I’ve got an announcement: I’ve become rather fond of cocktails. Now, I’ve always liked a little drink, but NYC seems to have converted me from an avid wine drinker to a cocktail queen, and what started off as living the SATC cliché (it had to happen) has turned into something of a love affair. Funny that, because when I worked in Leeds it didn’t matter how many mixology workshops I was invited to (and trust me as ‘nightlife editor’ there were many), I just didn’t catch the bug.

A cosmo at the New York Palace

It must have been swigging them as the sun set on the roof terrace of the Gansevoort hotel in Meatpackers. Or maybe it was the near-neat measures at Max Fish bar on the lower east side. Actually, thinking about it, it was probably the lychee martini I had at Gilt Bar (of, so I’m told, Gossip Girl fame) in the New York Palace… Who knows. All I know is that the only thing that’s kept me from mourning my return to the big smoke too devastatingly has been a trusty supply of Lea and Perrins, tomato juice and Smirnoff.
Now to the food.  Well, for five days not too long ago, Fiftyfourfoodmiles became Threethousandfourhundredandsixtyfoodmiles and it did so with gusto. It started well, with some very tasty afternoon tea in first class on the plane courtesy of BA (I did a feature on plane food recently for Yes Chef! magazine – so part of the job to test out the goods). A glass of champagne washed  the tasty finger sandwiches down nicely and the scones really were impressive – crumbling and fluffy and unlike anything I’ve ever eaten on a plane.

A first class afternoon tea

One of our first, and best foodie experiences after landing was breakfast at Prime Burger. We’d been wondering around like a couple of crazies, dazed by the heat (it was upwards of 27 degrees c), jet lagged and hungry when we stumbled upon this New York institution, between Madison and Fifth. Though it didn’t look like much from the outside, when we got a little bit closer we noticed that the glass door was plastered in press clippings and it looked promising.  Going inside was like setting foot into 1960s New York (it had its last refurb in ‘65) and it offers some of the friendliest service we encountered.

Inside Prime Burger

Yo can read the gory details of our delicious French toast encounter here in a special dispatch on London Review of Breakfasts, and here’s a tasty pic:

French toast at Prime Burger

On our second day, knowing that we were heading to Ducasse’s Adour (more about that later) for supper we decided to have a light lunch. That was the plan, but then we found ourselves in Bryant Park, a popular lunch spot among New Yorkers who were all sitting on the provided chairs, drenched in sun, dining on sandwiches, salad boxes and seemingly endless packed lunches.

We wanted in, so we scoured the surrounding streets until we found Zeytinz Fine Food Market, which was teeming with locals exhausting its selection of hot and cold foods (including everything from burritos to dim sum) and never-ending salad bar. This was a serial luncher’s dream. Shelves bulging with pastries, bread, bagels, vegetables, fruit – counters laden with sushi, soups, pies, curries, noodles. It was almost like New York’s wonderfully diverse food offering distilled into one shop. This is what I got:

Lunch in Bryant Park from Zeytinz food market

And so we sat, soaking up sun and chatter of Manhattan’s finest – stuffing our faces with vineleaves, broccoli and sugar snaps in sesame oil, Caesar salad, juicy, sweet tomatoes – Gemma’s exact words were “every tomato is a joy in my mouth” until it was all gone, and the thought of Adour’s tasting menu was more than our tummies could handle. In the next report: supper at Adour, brunch at Pastis, plus, when I met Michelin starred Brit chef April Bloomfield at The John Dory…

Clicking along with Allegra… (well, my mum did)

A bizarre phone call from my parents last night as they tried to find Allegra McEvedy on Twitter. It doesn’t look like she is on there, but @guardianfood is.

My mum had decided to have a go at the Guardian’s click-along with Allegra, so bought the ingredients and this was the result…

Allegra's spice-rubbed pork escalope with coconutty sweet potatoes

 

Sadly, I don’t live near enough to get to theirs in time for tea.  

Mum said she didn’t have time to comment on the Guardian site so I’m making sure it gets its online fame here. 

The idea is that you follow the blog-post with other users, adding comments as Allegra updates the blog with step-by-step instructions. Then everyone shares their photos via the comments and the Word of Mouth Flickr group. I’m also informed by @guardianfood that a gallery will be put together. 

I’d quite like to join in next time (would bring a whole new meaning to family mealtimes): but can the updates come via Twitter please? That way I won’t have to keep refreshing the page. Also Rosie tells me she has a problem if she joins in: she’s not on wireless internet so can’t put her laptop in the kitchen…

Meat packing in Clapham – a culinary crime wave

I just saw a man fill his sports jacket with sirloin steak. I only noticed him because he was making a creaking sound as he walked past. I was queuing to pay for my eggs at the Sainsbury’s Local in Clapham South, which is frankly the last place you’d expect to encounter a ‘real life member of the British criminal underclass’.

It’s normally just full of people that who like accountancy, ‘banter’ and playing rugby. And Antipodeans, and grown women matching that timeless fashion combo of pyjamas with Ugg boots. But there he was – baseball cap, trainers and a hoodie full of beef – apparently trying to justify to the wily cashier why he’d been caught with a meaty vest.

A steak not dissimilar to one that nearly got stolen

“That’s all I’ve got!” he shrieked as the small, but remarkably unfazed man extracted yet another packet of premium British beef fillet from his coat. Then he legged it. “This happens all the time,” sighed the lady scanning my items. “How much was it this time, Dev?”

“£43.10 worth,” said Dev. “What’s this – a maverick bon viveur turning to crime in the face of the recession and rising meat prices to sate that inevitable red meat craving?”- I hear you foodies ask. It’s a nice image, but it’s unlikely that old beefy was catering for a dinner party. The cashier told me that steak is the favourite among shoplifters at the moment, as they can sell the meaty morsels on at market and make a packet.

So meat is the new currency of the underworld, the centrepiece for a culinary crime wave. I guess it was inevitable that people might try to take advantage of retail stock that has shot up in value lately, but it seems this black market in isn’t limited to the ready-packaged supermarket stuff. Farmers have been reporting a rise in livestock rustling since meat prices went sky high. Scary stuff. What’s next – stuffing our knickers with turbot?