Kabulawayo

Trinidad and Tobago: Roti Joupa

2012-01-15T15:33:00.022Z

Apart from the writing what also really lets this blog down is the photography. I'm a food blogger who hates taking photos, plus every camera I own seems to meet a grisly fate, whether stomped on a dancefloor or drowned in a swimming pool. I assure you though, what appears in the first photo to be the unfurled contents of a well used nappy was in fact a bundle of fiery joy, the jewel of Trinidadian street food, the roti.

A legacy of indentured workers from the Indian subcontinent (roughly 40% of Trinidadians are of South Asian ancestry), roti refers to the style of flat bread as well as the dish as a whole. It's a meal in one, a generous dollop of curry (usually goat, chicken or prawn) wrapped in a pocket of roti which has been cooked on a large flat pan called a tawa.

I've been several times to Roti Joupa, a Trinidadian takeaway in North Clapham which has a bit of a cult following, it's packed with customers on a Saturday afternoon. The kitchen behind the counter is a hive of activity with rotis being freshly made in front of you. On this occasion I went for a curry goat roti (which was boneless). You're given a choice of spiciness 'mild, medium or hot' as they add hot pepper sauce to it afterwards. I'm a chilli fanatic, but the cooks at Roti Joupa are fiendish. I find medium there is just right, I've made the mistake of going for hot before and it's a painful experience.

The curry goat was superb, tender chunks of goat melting into a thick, spicy, meaty gravy. It's topped with aloo choka, basically a curried mashed potato, which made it all the more satisfying. The roti itself tasted fresh with a pleasant chewiness and took on a whole new beauty when soaked with the curry juices.

I also had 'doubles' (picture no.2), another Trini street food favourite of East Indian origin. It's curried chickpeas sandwiched between two pieces of fried bread, very similar to the puri you get with prawn puri in curry houses. Topped with a cucumber relish and more hot pepper sauce it's a delicious snack.

Roti Joupa Restaurant. 12 Clapham High Street, London, SW4 7UT - Tel: 0207 627 8637

Arrosticini (fatti a mano!)

2012-01-13T15:23:00.016Z

Thinking about my favourite food smells, at the summit just above fried onions and really fresh shellfish is the smell of lamb grilling over charcoal. There's alchemy as soon as the first drop of fat hits the glowing embers, producing an intensely sweet, smoky perfume that brings happy memories of summer holidays and heaving plates of meat in Dalston ocakbasi restaurants.

When it comes to the romance between lamb and lumpwood, Turkish and Middle Eastern cuisine is famous, the glorious kebab in particular. One theory being that the cooking method of grilling small pieces of meat on skewers developed as a way of minimising the use of precious fire wood in barren landscapes. Us Brits on the other hand, in our green and pleasant land, were more inclined to roast bloody great big chunks of beef. It wasn't until fairly recently though that I discovered that Italy, specifically the Abruzzo region, has its own version of the lamb kebab, arrosticini.

I say lamb, arrosticini strictly speaking should be made from hogget a young castrated male sheep, although due to availability lamb or mutton is increasingly common. I was introduced to the delights of these small skewers by my Aunt and Uncle who live in Abruzzo and have fallen in love with the region, which has been one of the most isolated and untouched in Italy. Situated on the east side of Italy, with Rome to its West and an Adriatic coastline, Abruzzo's rugged, mountainous landscape meant that shepherding was traditionally the region's most important economic activity. Each spring saw the Transumanza, where shepherds would move millions of sheep to greener summer pastureland high in the Gran Sasso mountain range. Arrosticini developed as part of the cuisine of this nomadic shepherds' lifestyle.

I was lucky enough to get one of the long trough like grills arrosticini are cooked on (called a fornacella) as a birthday present and every once in a while (as I did last Saturday), I indulge in a surfeit of ovine goodness. The beauty of them is that the pieces of lamb are fairly small so they're only a few mouthfuls (you just eat lots of them). Making them in quantity is a time consuming process but well worth the effort. In Abruzzo they make a distinction between the more expensive handmade arrosticini (fatti a mano) and mass produced arrosticini made with a machine which have a square like more uniform appearance. In the butcher's in my Uncle's village it's apparently quite a common sight to see the women of the family sat dwarfed by mountains of lamb pieces, patiently threading them on to bamboo skewers.

Here's a rough recipe for them:

It's very simple, what makes this taste amazing is fat and lots of salt...

Serves 5

Round bamboo skewers (2 packs of 100 will definitely do)
2kg boneless lamb (or hogget) shoulder
Plenty of sea salt

• Soak the skewers in water for at least an hour so they don't burn.

• Cut the lamb into small pieces (see photo for an idea - don't worry about them being too uniform). Don't worry about the fat! In Abruzzo they intersperse the meat on the skewer with disks of fat so you can either do that with any fat you trim off or you can just leave it on the meat. Most of it will melt into the meat during the cooking adding flavour or crisp up beautifully.

• Place in a bowl and season the lamb pieces with a generous handful of salt (don't be scared).

• Thread the meat onto the skewers (be patient!).

• Grill over glowing charcoal embers turning every minute or so for about 4-5 minutes.

Ideally the meat should rest on the skewer above the charcoal but you can cook it directly on a grill also.

It's a very sociable meal and they taste best straight off the grill, so it's a case of eating as you go with everyone stood around the grill, cooking and eating, cooking and eating (which is admittedly much better suited to July than January). Accompany with a glass of Montepulciano d'Abruzzo and bread and olive oil. Anything else is apparently frowned upon. My Uncle witnessed a man being yelled at by the hostess of a restaurant that specialises in arrosticini for asking for a green salad....

Barbados: Bajan Spice

2010-08-26T19:16:00.004+01:00

The radio's blasting Gregory Isaacs as I walk into Bajan Spice on a Saturday afternoon, suddenly the DJ pulls up the record, rudely interrupting the 'Cool Ruler', and shouts - 'This one's for Bajan Spice, Clive get my steam fish ready, I'm coming'...show finished and order placed. He arrives excitedly about ten minutes later, leaving his car outside with the doors open and the stereo cranked as he chows down.

For the half hour or so I'm in there the takeaway/restaurant in Nunhead Green Peckham is buzzing with West Indians popping in to collect lunch. The question on everyone's lips 'Is there any souse left?' On Saturday's Bajan Spice offers specials of 'Pudding and Souse' and 'Cou Cou', both lay claim to the title of Barbados's 'national dish'.

'Souse', a Caribbean variation on the Northern European fish preparation, is a fiery concoction of pork (usually trotters, snout, belly and tail) boiled then pickled in lime juice with cucumber, sweet peppers and copious amounts of scotch bonnet. It's served with 'pudding', baked grated sweet potato. Sadly there had been a bit of a run on souse that day so I didn't get to try it, the woman in front of me got the last portion and did a little victory dance. Thankfully there was still some 'Cou Cou' left (pronounced like the nest thieving, clock popping bird).

'Cou Cou' is a thick cornmeal paste with okra which exists in various guises across the islands, I've already encountered, in fact made it, as Antiguan Fungee and Pepperpot. For Bajans I can imagine it's real comfort food but for me it was a bit too stodgy. The accompanying 'Steam Fish' was incredible though, the name's a bit misleading as it's more of a stew. Traditionally made with flying fish I was told, this version had a delicious big tranche of firm, meaty red snapper, bathed in a rich, fishy broth with a hint of coconut milk. It was all washed down with a luminous yellow banana soda, part of a vast selection of Bajan beverages and biscuits under the counter. All in all the meal cost a very reasonable £6.50.

If you're down South East way and interested in trying authentic West Indian cooking that's a bit different from your usual Jamaican standards (they do Jerk chicken etc. too) it's well worth a visit and is supposedly the only Bajan restaurant in London. Oh and if you fancy Souse on a Saturday, make sure you get down there early or call ahead.

Bajan Spice

28 Nunhead Green, Peckham

London, SE15 3QF

Tel: 020 7358 0090

Guyana: Kaieteur Kitchen

2010-05-04T19:34:00.005+01:00

We've got four more years to enjoy the culinary and cultural adventure which is the Elephant and Castle Shopping Centre, according to Southwark Council's Regeneration Timeline the South London landmark is marked for demolition in 2014.

Built in 1965 it was the first covered shopping centre in Europe, the crowning glory of a development which the London County Council's planners had envisaged as a 'New Sight of London'. They achieved their aim, in a way, though few visit the gyratory and some 2km of subways to marvel at a multi-layered utopia of man and automobile.

Elephant and Castle is consistently voted one of London's greatest eye-sores with its big red bazaar taking a particular bashing. There's little denying that the regeneration project should benefit the area (and hopefully current residents) yet despite all its grimness, for me E&C holds a certain charm. The shopping centre is a living relic virtually unchanged in more than 40 years. Promenading its cracked marble corridors and basking in the faded glow of multicoloured signage and striplighting is Southwark's answer to cruising in a Chevy around Habana Vieja.

Whilst the structure and decor is caught in a twilight of beautiful decay, the centre's shop keepers represent a more modern face of London. There are numerous money transfer centres, Afro-Caribbean hair and beauty emporiums and more importantly some really interesting places to eat. Inside there's a popular Polish cafe, a curry house and a renowned Colombian cafe, shop and restaurant - 'El Bodeguita'.

Outside, in what can only be described as a moat surrounding the retail bastion, is a food court par excellence. The mixture of stands come to life on a sunny day with people eating on ajoining plastic tables, Nigerian, Jamaican and Thai are all represented. The star of the show though is Kaieteur Kitchen serving Guyanese food.

Guyana, a former British colony on the South American mainland is generally considered part of the Caribbean and shares a lot in common culturally with the English speaking islands. Like nearby Trinidad and Tobago there is a strong East Indian influence on the cuisine with over 40% of the country's population descendants of indentured labourers from the subcontinent. Indian breads such as rotis and curries feature heavily alongside dishes with African, European and more so than elsewhere in the West Indies, Amerindian roots.

Passing Kaieteur early one Saturday lunchtime with my stomach as empty as a Greek tax return, the sight of three ample women buzzing around a multitude of pots, frying, stirring and smiling was too inviting. There was no menu so I asked to try the most Guyanese dish... 'pepperpot!' was the unanimous response. Each West Indian island seems to have a dish they call pepperpot, I've already tried Antigua's earlier in my blog, but the Guyanese pepperpot is unique. Theirs is a brooding, dark, hp sauce like morass of all manner of pig and cow parts which tastes incredible.

The secret to pepperpot I was told is 'cassareep' an Amerindian ingredient which is a natural preservative made from cassava juice. The juice is boiled up with brown sugar, cinnamon and cloves to create a thick dark liquid which gives pepperpot its unique flavour and intense colour. In the days before refrigeration, cassareep was a vital addition to stews preserving them almost indefinitely, as long as the pepperpot was boiled well each day it would be safe to eat. Guyanese families tell tales of the same pepperpots lasting for years, with housewives taking and adding ingredients to a stew with an age old base, there's even tales of people inheriting pepperpots.

I was assured my pepperpot was just a couple of weeks old, the constant stewing and concentrating of flavours had broken it down into a thick, molasses like sauce of caramelised meat and spices, a beautiful mix up of oxtail, pigs trotter and chunks of stewing beef and pork. It was served with 'Cook up Rice', a favourite way of using up leftovers in Guyana apparently, which had a generous amount of pork and chicken. A fiery homemade hot sauce of scotch bonnet and mustard was the perfect condiment.

Whilst I ate, the dapper chap in the cap (pictured above) patted me on the back and said, 'It's food that makes you feel good isn't it?' it certainly is and pretty good value at £6.50 for my meal. Lets hope there's a place for Kaieteur Kitchen next to Wagamama's Elephant and Castle in a few year's time.

Bolivia: Parrilladas del Sur

2010-01-24T15:12:00.005Z

The Elephant Castle/Walworth area seems to be the centre of London's Latino community. A fairly recent influx of immigration from Andean countries, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia in particular has seen the arrival of Latin American grocers, butchers, restaurants and even nightclubs such as the 'Ministry of Salsa'. Each August its streets and Burgess Park play host to the 'Carnaval del Pueblo' Europe's largest Latin American festival.

Stretches of the famously bleak Old Kent road comes to life on the weekend with Latin bars blaring out Cumbia, Salsa and Reggaeton. There are a few really interesting looking places to eat, an Ecuadorian seafood restaurant "Costa Azul' has caught my eye before but recently I managed to drag a few friends to Parrilladas del Sur a Bolivian grill.

I say Bolivian, the restaurant is actually owned and run by Ecuadorians but caters for the area's sizeable Bolivian population with specialities such as salteñas (a type of spicy meat filled empanada or pasty) and anticuchos de corazón ( bite sized beef heart kebabs). As it happens the Friday we went none of these were on the menu but we were treated to the house speciality, a colossal mixed grill (parrillada mixta).

The grill for two included typically Latin American cheap but delicious cuts of beef which aren't readily available or popular in the UK; Flank steak, slightly tough but intensely beefy and juicy, and short ribs, ribs cut across the bone from the chuck, once again they require some gnawing but the meat is rich and flavoursome. Both were cooked well done as seems to be the norm in most Latin American cuisine but were beautifully sealed with a salty, charred exterior.

As well as the steak there was some excellent chorizo (a combination of beef and pork flavoured with coriander and cumin), two huge pork chops, slightly dry but tasty nonetheless and two fine BBQ'd chicken legs made with a secret marinade. Smokey and spicy it tasted like they'd used achiote and a liberal amount of garlic and fresh chili. The grill was accompanied by a fiery chili sauce, baked potatoes, salad and a mound of rice.

In terms of drink the restaurant is plastered with adverts for Bolivian beer "Pacena" sadly supplies were low and we joined the regulars in a can of Fosters. We did get to try an Ecuadorean winter warmer though made from guayusa (a stimulant leaf high in caffeine made into tea), passion fruit juice and sugar cane liquor which had everyone in good spirits.

The place, as with many others I've visited for this blog, feels like you're on holiday it's just such a contrast to the London outside. The site it's on used to be an antique fireplace yard and they've transformed it into a home from home for Bolivians/Ecuadoreans including football shirts on the bare brick walls, posters of Latin popstars, plastic tables and an outhouse toilet that's on the fritz.

The staff were incredibly friendly, although slightly bemused when we came in they managed to dig out the only two menus in English. I'd like to go back when they've got more of the Bolivian specials which seems to be a Saturday night. There's so much to explore in terms of London's South American food, I've already eaten in a few good Colombian places, El Santafereño in Brixton Market is particularly good as is the nearby butchers Las Americas for both Colombian and Brazilian cuts.

My next quest has to be to seek out some illicit Cuy, one of the Andes' most famous delicacies, guinea pig.

Parrilladas del Sur,

186 Old Kent Road,

SE1 5TY,

0207 701 2367

Tacos de Cachete

2009-11-16T14:31:00.030Z

A couple of weeks ago I attended a fascinating discussion of Mexican food at the British Museum, part of a series of events linked to the current Moctezuma exhibition. Amongst the panel chaired by Fay Maschler was travel writer Fiona Dunlop, renowned Mexican chef and restaurateur Enrique Olivera, Wahaca's Tommi Miers and a new hero of mine, one of the world's greatest authorities on Mexican cooking Diana Kennedy.

I'm a bit of a twat when it comes to Mexican food, having spent a semester of my Spanish degree as an exchange student in Puebla. Whilst fellow linguists tucked into Currywurst in Leipzig I was decimating my student loan and occasionally my bowels, eating and drinking my way across southern Mexico like a marauding filibuster. London's current burrito craze really pisses me off, and shamefully I've found myself berating the staff at Daddy Donkey for their prices and lack of corn tortillas.

Anyway, despite my professed knowledge the talk was my first encounter with a woman who has spent 45 years researching and documenting Mexico's regional cooking. She's written several books, the most famous of which 'The Cuisines of Mexico' is a bible for all Mexicophiles. So great is her contribution to Mexican gastronomy that she was awarded The Order of the Aztec Eagle, the highest honour afforded to foreigners in Mexico.

Listening to her speak was a privilege, as she rolled out the Nahuatl names of rare ingredients. Fielding questions from the audience she instantly reminded one Mexican lady of the name of a particular salt found on the shores of Mexico's highland lakes called Tequesquite that her Grandma used to use to season beans. When someone got her started on Tamales she offered to continue the conversation after the talk for a few hours more.

What came across was a true devotion to the culture of her adopted country and a strong dedication to ensuring the survival of one of the world's richest culinary traditions in the face of corrupting global influences (dietary habits from above the border and genetically modified maize were amongst those highlighted). The enthusiasm of all those participating was moving, with Enrique Olivera speaking about current trends in Mexican alta cocina and Tommi Miers explaining her brand of Mexican food with a British accent.

By the end of the discussion when the panellists had shared their most memorable Mexican eating experiences and generous samples of Wahaca's new menu had been consumed, I was reaching for my molcajete, the lava rock mortar which makes a salsa supreme.

Sunday lunch was an adaptation of a taco classic 'Barbacoa de Cabeza' slowly cooked cow's head. On offer at £2.60 a kilo in Waitrose and for ease, I just used ox cheeks 'cachete'. There are various variations of barbacoa - slow roasting, steaming or braising and with various meats (mutton 'borrego' is my favourite). Again this is the easiest one, braising on a hob. If you were a purist you'd do it wrapped in maguey (agave) leaves and buried with hot rocks...one for the summer.

As well as rich tender meat you get an incredible beef stock from simmering the cheeks for so long, which in Mexico is served as consomé before the tacos.

I made a salsa verde to go with it with tomatillos (called tomates verdes in Mexico). Despite the name they're unrelated to tomatoes and are a relation of the cape gooseberry. It's pretty hard to get fresh ones over here, though Cool Chile have them occasionally, so I used tinned.

Tacos de Cachete (serves 5)

Carne
2kg Ox cheeks
2 Onions (halved)
8 Cloves of garlic
1 Bay leaf
10 peppercorns
salt to taste

Salsa Verde
500g tinned tomatillos
2 jalapeño chilis or serranos if you can get them (deseeded)
1/2 onion
2 cloves garlic
salt to taste

To Serve
30 Corn tortillas
Finely chopped onion, coriander and slices of lime

Place the ox cheeks, the onions, the garlic, the bayleaf and the seasoning in a large cooking pot. Cover with water and bring to the boil. Reduce heat and simmer gently for 3 hours.
When the meat is tender and falling apart remove from the broth and shred. According to taste it can be eaten as it is or fried to give a crispy exterior. I fried mine.
To prepare your salsa verde, on a skillet roast the chile and onion until blistered and tomatillos until blistered and bubbling. Blend with the garlic and salt in a molcajete (if you've got one) or a blender, adding water if necessary to achieve a thick yet pourable consistency. Alternatively you can make the salsa (cruda raw) without charring the ingredients.
Serve shredded meat with corn tortillas heated on the skillet (wrap in foil or a clean tea towel to keep warm) bowl of salsa verde, chopped onion, coriander and limes.

In terms of ingredients I'd recommend Casa Mexico, Azteca (website only in Spanish) and Cool Chile.

Bangladesh: Gram Bangla

2009-10-17T21:03:00.011+01:00

Of all the waves of immigration, Bangladeshis have arguably made one of the biggest impacts on the way we eat in Britain today. There's an estimated 9500 'Indian' restaurants in the UK, more than 65% of which are thought to be Bangladeshi owned. Curry has taken pride of place alongside fish and chips and roast beef as a national dish, even the BNP love it.

Since their arrival in the 50s, Bangladeshis have been the driving force behind an industry and and an institution that's now reckoned to be worth approximately £3.3bn a year. No high street would be complete without its 'Passage to India' or 'Jolly Rajah'. What young Englishman has not been forged by the morning fire of a vindaloo or phaal? Bangladeshis picked up where kedgeree and mulligatawny left off and introduced us to the more puissant flavours of the subcontinent.

Despite the large number of Bangladeshi owned restaurants, finding one where the food is close to 'home cooking' is difficult. There has been a real homogenisation among Britain's curry houses, whether billed as Bengali, Punjabi or Nepalese the menu in restaurants outside of predominantly Asian areas all carry the same predictable favourites, enjoyable yet largely inauthentic interpretations of dishes from the length and breadth of the subcontinent, Dopiaza (Hyderbad), Vindaloo (Goa), Rogan Josh (Kashmir) for instance. Admittedly this is starting to change a bit with more restaurateurs willing to showcase more of their native regional cooking, but you're still unlikely to find mutton brain curry.

Brick Lane was the obvious choice for this meal as the centre of London's Bangladeshi community (33.5% of the population of Tower Hamlets is Bangladeshi). Initially I was a bit snooty about the idea given my previous experiences of bartering for free pints and popadoms there and was hoping to find some unknown gem further east.

The obligatory call to the embassy for recommendations was ill received, the first person couldn't understand me, neither could the second, and the third chap seemed thoroughly vexed 'This is not our job!' Admittedly he might have had some more pressing issues on his hands, flood relief etc. but if ever I find myself working as a diplomat in Dhaka I will make it my mission to know the whereabouts of every fish and chip shop, ale tavern and chop house in the city.

The tip off eventually came from a Bangladeshi grocer's near work, in exchange for buying a jar of the formidable Mr Naga. So Brick Lane it was and Gram Bangla where the shopkeeper liked to eat once a week. Sitting down the Whitechapel end of Brick Lane, Gram Bangla is an unassuming Café which on a Saturday evening was packed with young Bangladeshi men.

Having run the gauntlet of Brick Lane's curry pushermen we were greeted with bemusement, three louts who'd accidentally stumbled into the only place that didn't serve Kingfisher, madras and peshwari naan. There are no menus but there was a fine array of curries under the chiller cabinet which they patiently explained to us. The food is specifically Sylheti, from the north eastern Sylhet region of Bangladesh where the majority of British Bangladeshis hail from. Fish is the order of the day and there's a handy poster with illustrations and the names of the myriad of Bangla seafood.

A lot of the punters seemed to be going for the thali option with meat or fish curry, a vegetable curry, daal, pickles and a sweet fritter of some sort. We went for a selection of dishes to share between the three of us, a kingfish curry with a wide flat bean pod of some sort, a lamb biryani, a potato curry with aubergine and dudhi gourd, a fish chutney, a beef curry, a dish of dried fish with drumstick and a mound of rice. According to my Bangla grocer the choice varies a lot, other weeks there might also be brain, fish roe curry or fish kofta.

Ordering the dried fish (shutki) and drumstick raised a few eyebrows, 'I rate your choice' said one of the lads on the table next to us 'try that one first'. His mates waited with bated breath for someone to take the first bite. Shutki smells like a putrid rockpool, near a sewage pipe, drying slowly on a hot afternoon. It's a challenging taste, sweet and slightly rotten with an intense savouriness, it took a few mouthfuls to get accustomed to but was delicious combined with the freshness of the drumstick (an asian vegetable similar in taste to green beans), hot fruity chili and equally pungent dried shrimp.

The fish chutney was a winner, made with dried fish again but a variety which wasn't as 'high' as the shutki with drumstick. It had been shredded and fried with both dry and fresh chilis, onions and garlic. The kingfish curry was meaty and rich, the wide flat bean which I didn't get the name of an interesting addition. The beef curry, a Bangladeshi speciality and something you rarely see even in muslim run restaurants was slighly dissappointing in it's bonyness. I'm a fan of curry with meat on the bone and the gravy was delicious, but 50% of the dish was bones without any meat on them at all and no marrow to be had.

The lamb biriani was very good, tender marinated meat which had been fried first and sealed with a crisp exterior, and fragrant 'well defined' grains of rice. The potato curry was comforting and helped soak up the heat of the other dishes. Sylhetis are renowned for their love of chilis, the naga in particular, and the food which I found sufficiently piquant was accompanied with extra chilis (both green and dried) to add to taste.

As well as being very spicy the food was pretty salty, especially the dishes with dried fish (suprising I know). I'd guess this is down to Bangladeshi tastes where a mound of rice forms the bulk of the meal and a little curry is made to go a long way. Gram Bangla which means Bangla Village certainly markets itself at Bangladeshi expats with an ad that drifts back to the paddy fields.

To finish we were offered paan (areca nut wrapped in betel leaf). An after meal tradition chewed to cleanse the palate and freshen the breath. It's also supposed to be a mild stimulant with a similar effect to caffeine. You wrap the nut in the leaf with assorted fillings, there was tobacco, sugar coated fennel seeds and caustic lime (for a burning sensation).

As a first timer I was warned off the lime. 'It will hurt you' were the sobering words of the paan keeper. Every chewer must start off with a brush of lime eventually but I feared his wrath so sent for the fennel. The leaf itself didn't taste of much, it was slightly peppery, the nut had an aniseedy/menthol flavour which relieved me of the lingering taste of 'Shutki'. Didn't feel much effect but was left with a mouthfull of woody pulp whilst I found a bin down Brick Lane. Apparently the walkways in South Asia are stained with red betel nut spittle, it's recently been banned in Dubai.

The cost of the meal was about £10 a head which was pretty good value. I was after 'authentic' Bangladeshi food and I think we certainly got a flavour of Sylheti home cooking which was far removed from my previous experiences on Brick Lane. Apparently there's a few other places similar to Gram Bangla in the area, part of recent attempts by restaurateurs to appeal to young Bangladeshi workers and students in London. I'm keen to get my face in some 'shutki' again so will definitely be back to follow my nose.

Gram Bangla, 68 Brick Lane London E1 6RL

Tel: 020 7377 6116

Bahrain: Machboooos!

2009-08-13T14:38:00.011+01:00

Having finally found gainful employment the blog's been sadly neglected of late. There's a huge gap since my last post, one might even say a Gulf, which brings us to the next country on my list, Bahrain.

The prosperous island kingdom with a population of 791,000 lies off the west coast of Saudi Arabia linked by the King Fahd causeway. Bahrain is the fastest growing economy in the Arab world, encouraged not only by it's oil reserves but by it's role as a major financial centre for Islamic banking. It's also viewed as one of the most liberal arab countries with relative political freedom and a thriving publishing industry printing arabic language books by authors or on topics banned elsewhere.

Unlike neighbouring Saudi, Bahrain affords a higher level of religious tolerance which allows the consumption of alcohol in non-muslim establishments. As a result the island has become a playground for male tourists from other arab countries (a Muslim Malia if you will) in search of sex and booze.

Sadly finding a Bahraini restaurant in London proved impossible, the embassy didn't know of anywhere and could only suggest that one of the Lebanese places on the Edgware road might do something similar to 'Machboos', Bahrain's preferred dish of rice and meat. Strolling from Marble Arch to Maida Vale with a 'Bahraini?' sandwich board crossed my mind but I had a bad ankle. A post on a Bahraini blog about the Rendezvous Casino in Mayfair, advertised as the 'Gulf Nation's Favourite Casino' with an Arab restaurant got my hopes up too, but the Lebanese chef was bemused by my enquiry. Once again I was self-catering.

'Machboos' which is similar to biryani and is usually made with chicken, lamb or fish, is a favourite across the Gulf States in its various guises and is flavoured with an aromatic blend of spices 'bharat' and dried black limes which impart a concentrated, slightly fermented, citrus flavour.

I followed a recipe for Chicken Machboos which I adapted from amsdat's Bahraini food group on GroupRecipes

Ingredients:

4 1/2 cups water650g (3 cups)
Basmati rice
3 tomatoes, quartered
1.5 - 2 kg chicken
3 onions, finely chopped
1/4 cup coriander leaves, chopped
1 hot green pepper
2 black dried limes
4 tsp. Buharat ( 1 tbsp red pepper, 1 1/2 tsp cumin, 1 1/2 tsp cinnamon, 1 tsp cloves, 1 tsp black pepper, 1tsp ground cardamom, 1 tsp nutmeg, 1 tsp ground coriander, 1 tsp ground black lime) Can be bought ready made though!
3 tsp. turmeric powder
2 tsp. cumin powder
4 tsp. cinnamon powder
2 tsp. cardamom powder
2 cloves of garlic
1 slice of ginger, cut into small pieces
3 Tbls.. butter
1/4 cup lemon juice
3 Tbls. Rose water
3 Tbls. oil
2 Tbls. salt

Directions:

Quarter the chicken. Heat the water and leave aside. In a small bowl, mix the spices (garam masala, turmeric, cumin, and cardamom) together and add one tablespoon of salt to the mixture. Rub half the spice mixture into the chicken pieces.

Heat oil in a large cooking pan, fry the onions till golden brown, then add the pepper and the black limes, making sure to make a hole in the limes. Add the chicken to the onion mixture and turn it over a few times in the pan. Sprinkle a teaspoon of cinnamon and the rest of the mixed spices on the chicken. Turn the contents so the chicken gets coated with the spices, cover the pan and let it cook on medium heat for 3 minutes.

Add the garlic, chopped ginger, and tomatoes to the pan and turn the ingredients in the pan a few times. Cover again for 3 minutes on a medium heat. Sprinkle with the rest of the salt and pour in the water. Cover the pan and let it cook for about 45min, or until the chicken is cooked. Add the coriander 5 minutes before you remove the chicken from the stock in the pan. While the chicken is cooking, wash the rice and soak for 10 minutes in cold water, then drain.

Remove the chicken from the pan and put on an oven tray, brush with some oil and sprinkle with the rest of the cinnamon powder and grill in the oven untill the chicken is golden brown. Add the rice to the chicken stock, stir, then let it cook on low heat until the rice has absorbed the stock and is almost done. Sprinkle the rice with rose water and lemon juice, and place the butter pieces on the top. Cover the pan and cook on low heat for 10 minutes.

Fluff the rice and serve on a large communal serving plate with the grilled chicken pieces on the top. Eat with your right hand!

Despite the long list of ingredients it's actually a very simple dish to make, although a little time consuming. The buttery rice is beautiful, absorbing all of the rich flavour of the spices which is complemented perfectly by the tang of the black limes and the fragrant rosewater.

The Bahamas: Conch Fest

2009-06-07T18:30:00.017+01:00

This weekend I went diving for conch... in the deep permafrost of the freezers at Wing Yip, a Chinese cash and carry in Cricklewood. Neptune knows how long the poor molluscs had been there for, torn from the white sand blanket of a warm Caribbean sea bed, plastic packed in Birmingham and now trapped in an icy prison underneath a bag of fish balls.

Conch pronounced 'konk' is the Bahamas national dish. The 700 island archipelago is obsessed by this glamorous tropical cousin of our grey northern whelk and have devised countless ways to cook it. I settled on a trio of Conch Chowder, Conch Salad and Cracked Conch (deep fried). Finding fresh live conch in London proved difficult, even a post night out foray into Billingsgate was fruitless. Well, not entirely, I came away with some cockles and a 3kg octopus which I'd wrestled off a Portuguese lady.

Frozen it was, not even the exotic stalls offering things like snapper, barracuda and parrotfish could give me any pointers. This scuppered the conch salad somewhat, ideally the conch should be live and squirming when it's cut up and garnished with lime juice, scotch bonnet, onions, peppers, celery and tomato, 'soused' as they say in the West Indies. The shrivelled defrosted creatures emerged looking like Ötzi the Ice Man so I gave them a brief immersion in boiling water. The same rules apply to conch as squid, you either flash cook it or simmer it. Once the salad had been put together I left it for a couple of hours to mulch.

As suspected the conch itself was pretty flavourless and needed pepping up with salt and scotch bonnet. As a whole the salad was really refreshing and I could see it working well with fresh seafood, live whelks are fairly easy to get hold of and probably the best alternative over here.

Despite the salads failings, the frozen conch lent itself well to the other two dishes. Conch Chowder a spicy, chunky soup was delicious and a couple of hours of simmering brought out some real flavour from the meat and helped tenderize it. I found the recipe through a link sent to me by the Bahamian High Commission:
http://www.bahamasgateway.com/recipes/conchchowder.htm

Cracked Conch was incredible! Though it takes some work to tenderize (note the mallet in the photo above), even my sister who gagged at the site of the raw conch was tucking in to it deep fried. Like calamares but richer, it's a simple case of dipping them in egg yolk (with a splash of milk) and then flour, and frying until golden. Again I really want to try this with fresh whelk.

Plans are afoot to open London's first 'Conch Shack' as soon as I find a reliable source.

Eating Eurovision: Romania

2009-05-16T13:43:00.026+01:00

Last night's meal was in aid of Eating Eurovision, an event organised by Andrew Webb which challenged a group of London bloggers to explore the food of those countries participating in the song contest. We all met up at BBC Television Centre on Thursday to watch the semi-final and pluck a pingpong ball from an 'I ♥ Peckham' bag to decide which country we'd be saddled with.

Maybe it was fate but landing Romania forced me to confront the demons of my past. As a kid I was terrified of Romanians, where did this phobia come from?... My primary school was menaced by a pair of lawless Romanian orphans. The girls had been adopted by a local family and hadn't quite shaken off the effects of the orphanage. No lunch box was safe from their voracious appetites, no jumper thick enough to shield against their lupine teeth. The incident that scarred me most happened one summer's lunch break, sat enjoying my carton of Um Bongo and Penguin Bar I was cornered by the duo. One pounced on my back clawing at my face, the Um Bongo went flying, her accomplice snatched the Penguin from my hands piling it into her mouth, wrapper included. With a parting kick, they left me in a heap, mixed tropical fruit juice seaping into the dry dirt around me. Needless to say I was reluctant to attend the Blue Peter bring and buy sale that year.

So, going to 32 Old Bailey was a bit of a cathartic experience, it took courage to bury the past and descend deep into the Transylvanian vault below the City of London. On arrival the owner Cris warned us that there was no Italian food (they advertise the 'Best Italian Lunch') but was delighted to discover we were on a mission for Romanian. As we sat down to an aperitif of Palinca, a paint stripping plum brandy, I spotted Su-Lin of Tamarind and Thyme fame finishing her meal. She was covering Moldova which shares a lot in common with Romania culturally, in fact Cris himself was actually Moldovan.

Romanian food is apparently a bit of a mongrel and has borrowed elements from the traditions of the various peoples who have occupied the country, including the Turks, Hungarians and Austrians. As well as the informative Cris, the menu itself has some brilliant descriptions of the food. I kicked off with a tripe soup Ciorba de Burta 'If you have a hangover, it's better than an alka-seltzer'. It was delicious, rich and garlicky with an unusual sour flavour which reminded a bit of tom yum, the tripe had retained a nice bit of bite too.

For the mains we chose a selection of dishes. It had to be Mititei, kofta like kebabs of minced beef and pork spiced with garlic, paprika and caraway. According to the menu they're the reason Romanians don't do coke (see Adrian Mutu), they prefer the meaty high of a Mititei. They were nice, but I can't see a roll out of charcoal grills spearheading the MET's latest crack down.

A dish of Sarmale, cabbage 'stuffed against it's will' with mince and rice in a tomato sauce was tasty, though the image of a wide eyed, squeeling cabbage leaf was a hard one to shake away. The Sarmale came with a cornmeal mush called Marmarliga, traditionally a peasant staple. Stirring the mixture is apparently a hazardous task, the molten corn paste is prone to spitting and many a Romanian housewife bears Mamarliga scars.

The final treat was half a duck which was more like half a goose, it was huge, served on a bed of sauerkraut. The meat was flavoursome but a little dry. The accompanying green chilis were the sort that let you show off for a minute or so before unleashing their fury. As well as the chilis there was an excellent plate of pickles which included dill pickled green tomatoes, a new one for me.

When we arrived the restaurant was pretty empty but it got a bit busier as the evening progressed. The live band were taking requests and belted out a string of Romanian crowd pleasers, though they were reluctant to do a rendition of 'The Balkan Girls (they like to party),' Romania's Eurovision entry. Incidentally Cris was telling us that Elena Gheorghe, the singer, is rumoured to have been chirping down the mic of a prominent politician back home.

32 Old Bailey was a fantastic experience and after the first course I found I could relax without the fear of being swooped on, the Romanians we met were all very welcoming (and great dancers too). Cris was a wonderful host and gave me a free copy of a Transylvanian cook book to further my discovery of Romanian food, Udder Schnitzel is next up.

Many thanks to Andrew for organising the event and Noroc Romania in tonight's contest!

32 Old Bailey EC4M 7HS, Tel: 0207 489 1842

Azerbaijan: Azeri

2009-05-04T13:10:00.029+01:00

It's not hard to tell that I'm a rookie bloggeur. I still find it difficult to shrug off the suspicious waiter's gaze as I accidentally take a video of a stationary onion salad. The sorcery within a recently purchased, lower to middling camera from Jessops has me dumbfounded! Perhaps the hardest thing to master though is the gundog like discipline which stops you from wolfing a dish before it's captured in its full glory. When eating out with friends I've taken to bringing a rolled up newspaper to keep muzzles at bay. Friday was one such occasion where hunger got the better of me, so with regards to the photos above, imagine if you will several more dumplings and several more dolmas on the plates.

Azerbaijan wasn't one I'd expected to come so easily. I chanced upon Azeri on an evening promenade to take in the restorative, charcoal scented night air of the Edgware Road and grab a shawarma before catching the train from Marylebone. This oil rich former Soviet republic by the Caspian sea is only familiar to most of us through its participation in World Cup qualifiers. Bizarrely I've actually been to the capital Baku (for all of two hours!) catching a connecting flight to Kyrgyzstan. My experience was limited to the view from the window seat of an oil refinery and a couple of cranes. From what I saw in 'The World is Not Enough' the landscape is breathtaking.

By day Azeri (the name is another word for Azerbaijani) is a quirky looking cafe and sandwich bar, by night the small restaurant downstairs opens up serving an extensive menu catering for London's small Azeri community. When we arrived it was fairly empty apart from a few other diners finishing their meals and the owner Mamed and his friend enjoying some Russian slapstick. With a limbo low ceiling and walls decorated in ornate rugs and photos of Baku's landmarks it's a cosy little place, and we received a warm welcome from Mamed who took us through the specialities.

Proceedings began with a bottle of vodka served with a jug of sour cherry juice drunk separately as a chaser. It was a refreshing combination, the sharpness cutting through dishes rich with lamb fat.

The first course was a soup called Dushbara, tiny dumplings filled with minced lamb in a spicy broth. Apparently the skill of an Azeri cook is measured by how many dumplings they can fit in a bowl, Mamed claimed there could be up to a hundred in each serving. Contrary to the photo which looks more like a petri dish (the green is dried mint), it was delicious, though at £7 a portion I presume you're paying for the dumpling craftsmanship. The Dushbara was served with a bottle of garlic infused vinegar to add according to taste.

Next up were two different types of boiled dumpling. Khingali, large moneybag shaped Georgian style dumplings bursting with minced lamb and onion, flavoured with a hint of caraway seed and sprinkled with chili flakes. Eating them's quite an art, with the first bite it's a case of sucking the juice out to avoid spillage. The second type Gurza (literally meaning snake) were an Azerbaijani speciality similar in shape and name to Gyoza. The minced lamb filling was unmistakeably Middle Eastern though with coriander and cumin and the dough thicker.

Some exceptional Yarpaq Dolmasi (stuffed vineleaves) continued the 'minced lamb' theme, this time the meat was flavoured with fresh mint and dill. Bite sized and boiled in water with a liberal amount of butter they were seemingly our host's favourite. Mamed watched excitedly for our seal of approval before bringing fresh yoghurt to accompany them.

The main event was a mixed grill starring lamb chops, lamb shashlyk (shish), lamb steak, lula kebab (lamb kofte, mince again!), chicken wings, chicken breast and an unusual mashed potato kebab called kartof kebabi. The lamb steak and shaslyk were tough but very tasty, the chops juicy and tender, a sprinkle of sumac adding a pleasant tang to their smokey charred exterior.

Mamed was particularly proud of the chicken breast, 'It tastes like fish doesn't it?' he asked. It did a bit and was incredibly moist and tender, probably through brining. The texture and salty taste didn't do it for me but I was keen to find out how they'd achieved it. 'I could show you, but you'd have to spend half a day with me in the kitchen' was the reply, sadly 'fish-chicken' will remain a mystery of the orient.

Over all it was a great feed and many thanks to Mamed for taking the time to answer our questions and talk so passionately about his food. At £30 a head I was expecting it to be cheaper, though it appears preparing Azerbaijaini cuisine is a skilled and time consuming process. Every now and then the Chef would pop her head out of the kitchen, exhausted from making 1000s of pea sized dumplings or trying to get mashed potato to stick to a kebab skewer. The price did include a bottle of Russian Standard as well.

Finding Azeri has really buoyed me, if there are Azerbaijani Restaurants out there in London the possibilities are endless!

Azeri: 436 Edgware Road, W2 1EG
Tel: 020 7724 9955

Jesús - Maestro Cortador

2009-04-27T14:41:00.020+01:00

Last week at Brindisa I had the privilege of meeting Jesús González, one of Spain's most respected Maestro Cortadores (Master Carvers). The man from Alburqueque who describes himself as a 'Ham Sommelier', was over to help promote his native Extremadura's acorn fed Ibérico ham 'Dehesa de Extremadura D.O.' which is new to Borough Market.

Jamón is obviously serious business in Spain and so is the carving. To appreciate the intensity of Ibérico ham it should be cut very thinly so it's almost translucent, and slices should be bite sized, ideally between 4-5cm in length and 5-6cm in width. Such precision is in high demand and nowadays there are thousands of professional Cortadores. Jesús, one of the first to turn the profession into an art has been in the game for 29 years, winning numerous national and international accolades for his skill with the blade.

'When I started I was one of only four professional carvers in the country, now they're popping up like mushrooms. It reminds me of when I was a kid, you could turn over a rock and find maybe four scorpions, these days you turn over a rock and find four Cortadores!'

To distinguish themselves, in 2007 Jesús and fellow carvers formed the first national ham carvers association (La Asociación Nacional de Cortadores de Jamón) uniting eleven of Spain's most revered maestros.

An important part of Jesús's work is as official carver and spokesman for the Dehesa de Extremadura D.O. one of four regional Ibérico Ham denominations (Guijuelo, Huelva and Pedroches are the others) which regulates the production of Ibérico ham in this western region of Spain. Any ham bearing the D.O. stamp such as the' Dehesa de Extremadura' Bellota (acorn fed) ham at Brindisa has to meet strict guidelines from start to finish.

Primarily the whole process has to take place in Extremadura. As soon as the piglets are weened they must be fed on a natural cereal diet which is supplemented by their foraging in the Dehesa, the Mediterranean oak forest of West and South Western Spain. When they reach the age of 18 months and a minimum weight of 90kg the fattening up process 'La Montanera' begins. During this period from October to March when the acorns (bellota) are in season, the pigs must increase their weight by at least 60% feeding solely on acorns and natural vegetation. With a minimum slaughter weight of 150kg they need to eat about 3.5kg of acorns for every kg they put on. Each animal should have a hectare or more of forest to rummage in, to provide enough acorns and to give them sufficient excercise. The fact that the Iberian pigs are truly free range is essential to the ham's flavour; by constantly working it's muscles in search of food the pig distributes acorn rich fat evenly throughout it's meat.

Curing the ham is equally rigorous, only sea salt is used as a preservative and the ham must be matured for a minimum of 20 mnths. According to Jesús, what makes Ibérico from Extremadura unique is it's balance of sweet and savoury, which is a product of the climate. With a ham from Jabugo such as 5 Jotas, the flavour is saltier and more savoury because more salt is needed for quicker curation in the hot Andalus climate. Whilst on the other hand a ham such as Joselito from further north in Guijuelo (Salamanca) has a sweeter flavour as less salt is employed in the cooler climate. Extremadura sits between these two regions geographically and climactically achieving a medium (in theory) between the two characteristics.

Finally, I got to taste some. It was superb, sweet and nutty combined with an intense savouriness that coats the roof of your mouth, the all important fat melting beautifully. Quite right that this culmination of years of care and craftsmanship should be carved by a Maesto Cortador!

Dehesa de Extremadura D.O. Ibérico de Bellota £16.50/100g

Brindisa, The Floral Hall, Stoney Street, Borough Market, London SE1
Tel: 020 7407 1036

Australia: Jumbuck's

2009-04-24T12:26:00.023+01:00

For Australia it had to be meat pie. A quick google led me to Shepherd's Bush (Antipodean territory) and Jumbuck's Café, a restaurant franchise which is part of a wider wholesale business selling authentic Aussie 'Jaffle' pies to hospitals, pubs and bingo halls. Who is this pretender to Pukka's throne?!!....Jaffle pies get their name from an outback cooking utensil called the 'Jaffle Iron', two circular pans which clamp together, oft-used by jolly swagmen to make toasted sandwiches. This campfire technique was later applied to pie making, the idea being that the iron restricts the rise of the puff pastry, eliminating the fluff between filling and crust.

Jumbuck's offers a variety of Jaffle pies, from chicken korma to steak and Guinness. I chose the 'Chunky Steak Outback' with mash and mushy peas. Pie n' Mash is apparently the closest thing to an Aussie national dish and a legacy (perhaps) of naughty Cockney forefathers. The meal reminded me of school dinners, bisto style gravy (suitable for vegetarians), mushy peas (which were just overcooked garden peas) and ice cream scooped mash. The pie itself wasn't bursting with the advertised 'Chunky' stewing steak. Flecks of mince took me back to uni days and the tinned delights of that mysterious Uruguayan, 'Fray Bentos'. With such a lilliputian interpretation of 'Chunks' my only guess is that they gave me the wrong pie.

This isn't to say I didn't enjoy the tucker somewhat. I was ravenous at the time and for £3.85 it filled a gap and tasted pretty good (in a cheap way). As much as I adore a tenderly homemade steak and kidney, a football or chippie pie is sometimes a guilty pleasure and Jumbuck's falls into this category. I don't quite understand what's so remarkable about the Jaffle's squashed, flying saucer shape, but the queue of colonials in there on a Friday lunchtime all thought it was bonza. An Antipodean Emporium, as well as pies Jumbuck's can also satisfy all your Vegemite, Tim Tam and Cheezel cravings, should they arise.

Jumbuck's The Aussie Pie Co. 24 Shepherds Bush Green, London W12 8PH
Tel: 0208 811 8111

Armenia: Erebuni

2009-04-14T15:36:00.026+01:00

It's been a while but the journey continues. Last Wednesday I finally made it to an Armenian joint in Lancaster Gate, 'Erebuni'. I say Armenian, it's owned by Armenians, Edward and Nona Torosiants. Erebuni is more of a Pan-Ex-Soviet restaurant with an extensive menu featuring the CCCP's finest, from the Ukraine to Uzbekistan. Russia dominates proceedings but there are a few Armenian specialities to choose from.

Buried away (like a bunker) below the London Guards Hotel in a quiet residential square just off Hyde Park you'd have no idea it existed, the only indication is a small sign in the hotel reception. Apparently it doubles up as the hotel's restaurant, borscht by night and a full English in the morning, perfect if you've ever dreamt of vodka on your cornflakes. Going down the stairs to Erebuni is a bizarre experience as you descend from what looks like a purely functional flophouse into quite a lavish dining room, decked out in red tablecloths and choc a Eastern Bloc with kitsch.

The visit coincided with a joint Armenian/Georgian birthday party, our arrival rudely interrupting a heartfelt speech about brotherhood between the two nations. Having snuck us to our table the pretty Lithuanian waitress gave us the menus and a buzzer (pictured above), it was like something straight out of a Kiev gentleman's club for when you wanted her to Go-Go get you something. Once we'd plucked up the courage to use it we ordered a selection of the Armenian dishes and a round of vodka and Baltikas (no Armenian beer unfortunately).

Starters included Sekhtorats (fried aubergines with garlic and parsley), Emanbajady (a relish of aubergine, tomatoes, peppers and onion), Basturma (cured beef) and Dolmas. For mains, Shashlyk (lamb shish kebab), Chicken Tapaka (baked butterflied baby chicken with roast potatoes) and Chanaky (in fact Georgian, a tomato based lamb stew baked with potatoes in a clay pot).

Everything was pretty good, the aubergine nicely caramelised, the emanbajady rich and pleasantly spicy. Basturma was interesting but not as complex and beefy as I'd expected, it's maybe to Armenian tastes not to cure it for too long. The dolmas were far bettter than any Greek offering I've tried, bursting with minced lamb and wrapped in fresh tasting vineleaves without the usual acidity. Shashlyk was simply a shish kebab but it was succulent, had that essential charcoal sweetness and was served with fresh lavash bread. The roast chicken was beautifully moist with crisp potatoes and the Chanaky lamb stew suitably hearty (though overpowered a bit by tomato).

It was all very well cooked but there were no new tastes, some of the Russian options on the menu seemed a lot more exciting. I was disappointed because from what I've read Armenian cuisine is vast and varied. The offerings at Erebuni seem like safe bets, they don't serve the national dish for example, 'Harissa' a porridge of wheat and chicken. The Russian focus is understandable given that it's an area of West London full of ex-pats.

In terms of hospitality and atmosphere it was fantastic, with each chink of glasses the party next to us got louder and guests soon accompanied the keyboardist and mournful Armenian flute in songs which cried a thousand tears. Edward the host was obliging with the vodka, offering us a couple of complimentary rounds.

Erebuni's not cheap, particularly for the simple fayre we had. It's well worth a visit though for the whole Eastern experience (especially the buzzer). In the few other reviews I've seen people rave about the Russian food, seemingly it's up there with the best in London.

Erebuni, London Guards Hotel, 36-37 Lancaster Gate, W2 3NA
Tel:020 7402 6067

Argentina: Buen Ayre

2009-03-23T14:12:00.032Z

I must admit, I'd been looking forward to this one. The photos don't do it justice, by the time I'd remembered my camera the mixed grill had been savaged and my beef bound fingers fumbled with the flash.

Buen Ayre, owned and cheffed by master 'asador' John Rattagan, is something of an institution for London's carnesseurs and one of the few authentic Argentine Parrillas on offer. This was my first visit having already been to Santa Maria del Sur in Battersea, originally a sister restaurant, which now belongs to Rattagan's former business partner Alberto Abbate. From what I remember (through a Malbec mist) the meal there was excellent, though looking at their website recently they seem to have toned down the menu a bit omitting must haves such as sweetbreads and kidneys.

Apparently the partners chose Broadway Market as a location for Buen Ayre (the first restaurant) because it reminded them of San Telmo, the old town of Buenos Aires. Rattagan has stayed true to these roots and a winning formula of quality Argentine beef, perfectly grilled. The simple wooden furnishings within sight and smell of the impressive, height adjustable charcoal parrilla and an eclectic collection of memorabilia (including a sacred photo of Diego) create the perfect atmosphere for gorging unceremoniously on the Pampas's finest.

My fellow diner 'The Bass' and I went for the 'Parrillada Deluxe', a vast mixed grill including a 14oz Sirloin (Bife de chorizo), an 11oz Rib-eye (Bife ancho), two chorizos, two black puddings (Morcilla) and a wheel of Provolone. We also ordered sweetbreads which earnt us a high five from the waiter 'It's like caviar!', and a portion of chips and salad.

When it comes to cow Argentines are practically minotaurs, their love and understanding of beef is second to none. The meat was faultless, beautifully charred and salt crusted on the outside, pink and dripping within. 'Bass', a patriotic half Brazilian and churrasqueira fanatic was suitably impressed. Mollejas (sweetbreads) were worth paying the extra for, the same crisp, charred texture from the parrilla complimenting their rich creaminess. Both the chorizo, less aggressive with the pimentón than its Spanish counterpart, and the morcilla, more aromatic than its cousin in Bury, played well down the flanks. The Provolone which oozed menacingly across the brazier eventually did for us.

Steak can unite us all (apart from the veggies) and it was heartwarming to see young and old in loving communion with slabs of beef. The excitement on the faces of the girls next to us, dwarfed by their sirloins, almost brought a tear to my eye. Buen Ayre isn't cheap, for the two of us with a beer and a moderately priced Malbec it came to £108, but for my money it's one of the best meals I've had in London. Compared to other restaurants serving steaks of the same quality it's actually pretty good value. Rattagan excels at what he does, meat, and it's a privilege that he shares the essence of his native cooking in such an unadulterated way.

Buen Ayre, 50 Broadway Market, London E8 4QJ
Tel: 020 7275 9900
http://www.buenayre.co.uk/index.htm

Angola: Aná-N'Gola

2009-03-19T11:38:00.048Z

Strictly speaking this should have come before Antigua, but Aná-N'Gola has got some pretty flexible opening hours so it's a case of catching it when you can. Fortunately last Friday, having dragged a group of friends east to Newham we were in luck.

I'm becoming quite the mover and shaker among London's diplomatic circles. The woman at the Angolan Embassy probably put Texaco and De Beers on hold to give me the mobile number of a chap named 'Villa' who had a restaurant in Forest Gate. The place was completely off the radar and didn't appear on any internet searches. After several calls I finally got an answer (in Portuguese at first), they'd be open for the weekend.

Arriving was reminiscent of a wild west cantina. It was such a cliché, the shutters were all closed, apart from the door, and when the five of us finally summoned the courage to go in everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to stare. The silence was eventually broken when one table erupted with laughter and some bandido shouted 'que fazem aqui?!!' - what are they doing here?!! I could understand the amusement, we looked stranded, it was if we'd stepped through some magic portal and had been dumped on our arses in downtown Luanda .

Feeling slightly intimidated I asked the waiter if 'It would be alright to eat?'. He disappeared into the back for a couple of minutes and returned with a thumbs up, bringing some menus in Portuguese. When we were seated the bemused owner Man Villa came out to greet us and translated the four dishes on offer for the day. 'Cacusso' grilled tilapia served with boiled cassava and plantain, 'Bitoque' a Portuguese dish of steak, egg, chips and rice, 'Muamba de Galinha' chicken and palm oil stew and finally 'Funge con Carne Sèca' cornmeal paste with salt beef.

Man Villa (meaning Daddy Villa) used to work as a chef for the Met and spoke good English, supplemented occasionally by my friend's Portuguese. The atmosphere warmed as he proudly explained Angolan cooking and the colonial influences which have shaped it. A couple of bottles of Sagres (at £2 each) helped break the ice further and we were introduced to his friends, including an Angolan drag act (pictured above with number should you need it) who impersonates a stereotypical African matriarch and reads Angolan stories at local primary schools. What came across strongly was the desire to keep Angolan culture alive for the Angolans living in London (10,000 or so, many of whom are refugees), particularly the children born over here. Sunday afternoon is the best time to visit apparently, as they regularly organise a buffet with live music and dancing.

When the food arrived it was superb, between us we'd opted for the Cacusso (tilapia) and the Chicken Muamba served with Funge. The tilapia was perfectly cooked, firm and suprisingly fresh for a tropical fish. The Portuguese influence was evident in the accompanying molho made with tomato, peppers, onions and olive oil (apparently they produce it in Angola). Chicken Muamba had an incredible depth of flavour and benefited from the use of stewing hen, something I've never seen before in the UK. The palm oil seemed to add a richness but hadn't made the stew too greasy. Funge (cornmeal paste) which came with it is a staple I'm familiar with, making a similar dish 'Fungee and Pepperpot' for Antigua. Angolan Funge, with white corn, had a thinner porridge like consistency which on its own was unremarkable. It worked well though with the Muamba and a hot sauce made from olive oil and 'gindungo', an Angolan chili related to Scotch Bonnet.

Finishing the meal we stayed for a few more beers as groups of Angolans piled in to eat or drink. The vibrant decor which included vintage photographs of Angolan dancehalls and musicians, bright African artwork and a stereo blaring salsa and rumba is a welcome contrast to what unfortunately seems like quite a depressed part of town. With his restaurant Man 'Daddy' Villa has made sure that there's some corner of Forest Gate that is forever Angola.

If you fancy an Angolan escape one weekend it's worth calling Man Villa first on 07947 591 708

Aná N'Gola, 132 Upton Lane E7 9LW

Antigua and Barbuda: Fungee and Pepperpot

2009-03-12T09:41:00.044Z

"Good afternoon, is that Whap Dem Am Cum?", "Snapper's Paradise?", "The Grub Vendor?", "Am I speaking to Norma's Blessed Hands?". In a fit of desperation I spent the best part of a day ringing random West Indian takeways. "You don't happen to do any Antiguan food do you?.... Do you know anywhere that does?". The best reaction I got was a brief chuckle and a "No".

Things hadn't gone too well earlier either, speaking to the Caribbean Food Emporium an organisation dedicated to promoting West Indian food in the UK.

"Good morning, just a quick query, are there any restaurants that serve Antiguan food in London?"
"Ha, not that I know of" the lady replied.
I proceeded to sob about how you could only get Jamaican or Trinidadian food here, this won her sympathy.
"Oh darling, I feel your pain! I'm from Antigua too." She gushed.
"There is this one Antiguan guy who owns a Caribbean restaurant, but they don't serve Antiguan food. I'll give him a ring to see if he can do something for you, what's your number?... So whereabouts are your family from in Antigua?"

I paused for a second, feeling a West Indian lilt creep in, should I play along? What's the capital? St John's (there's a famous cricket ground there), it's a small island though, could be tricky. Eventually I fessed up and explained my blog.

Her voice dropped..."So you're not Antiguan?!" It was as if she'd found out I secretly had a wife and kids. She hasn't called me back yet.

Further attempts to source the Island's elusive national dish 'Fungee and Pepperpot' (calling the High Commission and joining 'Antiguans in the UK' on Facebook) proved fruitless so I was forced back into the kitchen. I bought my ingredients in Harlesden where there's supposedly an Antiguan community and scoped out a few more takeaways, sadly jerk reigned supreme.

'Fungee' pronounced 'Fun' (like a Northerner would) 'Jee', is a thick paste made from cornmeal and okra often served rolled in a ball or shaped in a bowl. A similar dish called 'Cou Cou' exists in Barbados. 'Pepperpot' is a stew combining salt meats with a variety of vegetables such as aubergine, spinach, cho cho (a small pear like squash), calaloo (leaves from a root vegetable called taro) and okra.

Brixton market is a mecca for the more exotic ingredients involved. If you live in North London, Harlesden's unbeatable, particularly Blue Mountain Peak which sells everything from sugar cane to luminous red pig snouts.

Here's the recipe I used, adapted from Antigua and Barbuda's Board of Tourism:

Ingredients:

For the Pepperpot
6 calaloo leaves, shredded
500g spinach, chopped
1 large aubergine, chunked
500g okras, chopped
500g West Indian pumpkin (pictured), peeled and chunked
3 cho cho (pictured), chopped
500g green papaya, peeled and chunked (if available, make sure it's not red inside!)
1 pint of frozen peas
2 medium onions, finely chopped
1 whole scotch bonnet
500g salt beef, chopped
500g pigs snouts (fresh or salted), chopped
a cup of beef stock or 1 stock cube

Pepperpot seasoning
2 cloves of garlic, minced
a bunch of chives
a couple of sprigs of thyme
3 tbsp ketchup

For the Fungee
2 pints water
6 okras cut into small pieces
1 pint of cornmeal
salt to taste

Pepperpot
Simmer the salt meats in water for about 10 minutes to take away some of the excess salt. Remove and drain. Fry in oil for 10 minutes, add the onions and fresh snouts (if you're using them) and fry for a further 5 minutes. Add the veg except for the peas and stir. Pour in just enough water to cover it all along with the stock and whole scotch bonnet, simmer until the veg is tender.

When the meat and veg are cooked through mash the thyme, chives and garlic together in a mortar and add to the pot with the peas and ketchup. Simmer on a low flame until the stew thickens, about 15 minutes or so.

Fungee
Place the 2 pints of water, salt and okra in a saucepan, bring to the boil until the okra's cooked. Pour away half of the cooking liquid. In a jug, mix the cornmeal with cold water to a thick batter consistency. Add this mix to the remaining liquid in the pan and reduce the heat to a low flame. Now stir continuously with a wooden spoon for around 20 minutes, the fungee's ready when it's stiff and separates cleanly from the bottom of the pan. Butter a small bowl and mould some of the mixture into it, turn it out onto a serving dish alongside the pepperpot.

Serves 5-6

Preparing fungee is a herculean task, the constant stirring as the mixture thickens up left my hand worn and blistered and my right arm pumped up like a fiddler crab's. I'd recommend wearing a glove.

As a dish Fungee and Pepperpot is nice enough, obviously it's hard to judge it on the version I cooked. Fungee is pure stodge which get's a bit much after a while, the pepperpot and a decent glug of hot sauce makes it much more appetizing though. Pepperpot tastes of goodness, it's packed with nutrition and the combination of exotic vegetables provides some exciting flavours. Unfortunately the gloopy texture from the okra and calaloo take a while getting used to. I'd rather make it with fresh meat instead of salted which became tough and could have benefited from an overnight soaking. The snout (which I prefer roasted until crispy) was pretty unpleasant, dotting the stew with gelatinous lumps of stale pigginess.

It's a shame that out of the 4,000 or more Antiguans over here seemingly not one is bringing their home cooking to the public. My one hope, Mr Vel's, a takeaway near Old Street which was a possiblity (I'd noticed it had been a ticket outlet for an Antiguan independence day party) is now an Indian takeaway. It's a problem I'm probably going to encounter for a lot of the smaller Caribbean islands, my only hope is to get in training for a 10 meal marathon at the Notting Hill Carnival in August!

Andorra: Carn a la llosa with Trinxat

2009-02-24T22:13:00.037Z

Five down, two hundred to go! I knew covering Andorra would be hard, I didn't expect it to involve diplomatic talks and an attempted grave robbery.

Famous as a tax haven and ski resort the principality is a tiny landlocked country high in the Pyrenees between France and Spain. With a population of some 71,800, it boasts the second highest life expectancy in the world (83 years!). Keen to discover if the secret lay in the diet I searched out my local Andorran takeaway.

Unsuprisingly Andorran food is non-existent in London, there was very little information about it on the web even. Just to make sure though I got on the line (unwittingly) to Sra. Maria Rosa Picart de Francis, the Ambassador of Andorra. Her Excellency was charming, slightly taken a back by my request, she spent a good twenty minutes or so describing the food of her childhood and suggesting recipes I could try.

Andorran cuisine I was told, has been shaped by centuries of isolation. With snow having blocked the mountain passes for several months it's very much centred around the local produce which could survive the harsh conditions and sustain the workers in the fields. Staples like potatoes, cabbage and beans, lamb from the hills and cured meats such as bacon and sausages.

'Trinxat' is a classic example and one of Andorra's best known dishes. It's very simple, (effectively an Andorran Colcannon/Bubble and Squeek) consisting of mashed potato and cabbage fried in the form of a cake with garlic and bacon. Perfect on a cold Pyrenean evening.

A more unusual proposition was the 'Carn a la llosa' Maria Rosa had described, a speciality of meat grilled on a hot slate. Traditionally this is done over a wood fire in the hearth, it's also quite common for Andorrans on a day out in the country to rack up a slab from the mountainside and start cooking.

As well as making use of an abundant local material, the technique is supposed to impart a unique 'stony?' flavour. Its fans claim the slate not only achieves the smokiness of direct grilling but has the added benefit of retaining fat on the cooking surface for basting.

I was forced to improvise a bit with my version and I'd like to apologise now to Andorrans worldwide for what may well be an abomination. My biggest dilemma was finding a suitable piece of slate. The Andorran's and Catalans use great big sturdy ones as they've got a tendency to split/explode when they come into contact with the fire. It was a Sunday so my options were limited, a trip down to Cornwall was tempting but I eventually settled on my nearest Wickes.

On my journey there I had a dark episode. Traversing a local cemetery I noticed a majestic rock garden. Siren like, it drew me towards it's jagged slabs. Amongst them lay the perfect piece of slate, a few feet long and at least two inches thick.

To my shame I wrestled with my conscience, I even picked it up. How would the relatives feel if they saw me scampering off with a chunk of their loving memory? On the other hand, I could be honouring 'Nan Nan' by grilling such exquisite lamb chops on her rock. I'd make sure to clean it and return it. The cold, disapproving look of a nearby cherub swung it for me and I returned home with two flooring tiles.

Lacking a fireplace I made a grill pit out of some breezeblocks that were lying around, covering them in foil for insulation, which wasn't strictly necessary. Andorrans would use wood which gives a better flavour, I used some charcoal I had.

Before putting slate to fire it's important to temper it first. Place your slab in a cold oven and turn it up to 200 celsius. When the oven reaches temperature leave it in there for ten minutes. Pull it out, brush with oil and it's ready for the heat. That's the theory.....in practice one of my slates was blown to smithereens by the flames sending shards in every direction. Luckily I hadn't introduced the lamb chops yet. The remaining slate stood firm and I nervously began grilling, flinching at every tiny crackle.

Having lost half of my cooking surface I decided to do a taste comparison between chops a la llosa and direct grilling. I have to admit, I wasn't entirely convinced. The meat on the slate cooked more slowly and didn't obtain the same delicious salt crust as the seared meat from the grill. It also lacked the smokiness I'd expected. You could taste the slate though, lending a subtle minerally flavour to the meat which was quite pleasant.

The chops were supposed to be served with a proper allioli, made with just garlic and oil. Olive oil is added drop by drop to garlic paste in a mortar and pestle, a painstaking process which for a small quantity can take up to an hour of constant mixing. After fifteen minutes and a dead arm I lost patience and ended up with a garlic infused oil.

As a novice my 'llosa' days aren't over. The technique's something I want to have another crack at with different meats and a bolder piece of slate. I'm sure my brand new, weedy Wickes floor tiles are no match for a grand old slab, hewn from a Pyrenean rock face and seasoned in a thousand fires.

Moltes gràcies to Maria Rosa for her advice.

Pozole con la familia Ramírez-Martínez

2009-02-19T13:14:00.013Z

Bernardino de Sahagún a Franciscan monk accompanying the Conquistadors describes a 16th century Mexican recipe prepared by the Aztecs in a ritual honouring the fertility god Xipe Tótec (take note 'Old El Paso').

"Having flayed them, the elders called 'Quaquauacuitlin' would take the bodies to the 'Calpul' (meeting house) where the owner of the captive had made his devotion or oath. There they divided them up and sent a thigh for Moctezuma to eat, and they would share the rest between the other dignitaries and relatives....They stewed that meat with maize and gave everyone a piece of the meat in a clay bowl or pot with its broth and the cooked maize. They called this dish 'Tlacatlaolli'; after having eaten, the drunken revelry would begin."
- Historia general de las cosas de la Nueva España, Bernardino de Sahagún

The prudish Spaniards took a dim view of human sacrifice and soon spoilt the party, however the ritual of stewing meat with maize (sometimes followed by drunken revelry) is still very much alive in Mexico today. 'Pozole' - Poh-so-lay, a broth of pork and hominy is a national institution usually eaten as a family weekend meal or at celebrations such as independence day.

Having been fortunate enough to study in Mexico for 6 months as an exchange student I'd tasted Pozole in some of it's various guises, green with tomatillo in Acapulco, red in Guadalajara and the traditional white 'Pozole blanco' in Balham?

On Tuesday I was privileged to join my Mexican friend Dulce and her family for dinner. It was a special and difficult occasion, Dulce's mum Rosa and sister Carina were returning to Mexico having spent a year and a half in London. Before leaving they were cooking up a vat of farewell Pozole.

Despite it's variations what makes a Pozole is the 'maíz pozolero' known as 'Cacahuazintle' in Nahuatl. These are large white maize kernels similar to North American hominy, which have been pre-cooked for a few hours in a solution of water and lime (not the fruit) to soften and remove the husks. Nowadays this is often bought pre-prepared in tins.

In the version Rosa and Carina cooked 'Pozole blanco', the prepared maize is then boiled with a few cloves of garlic until it opens, a bit like popcorn. This produces the foam from which Pozole gets it's name (pozolli is the Nahuatl for foamy). At this point the pork is added; Rosa used shoulder and hock although she told us a traditionalist would use a head. Throw in a pinch of oregano and it's the left to simmer for a couple of hours.

Whilst it was bubbling away Rosa rustled up some 'tostadas de tinga' fried corn tortillas topped with refried beans, chicken tinga (shredded chicken in a smoky tomato and chipotle sauce), ricotta (requesón) and lettuce.

When the pork was tender it was shredded and served in bowls with the maize and broth and a selection of ingredients for people to add to their taste. These included sliced radish, onion, oregano, limes, lettuce, ricotta and a fiery salsa made from 'chile de arbol'; thin, vicious chilis which were roasted on a skillet 'comal' and blended till smooth with garlic, vinegar, water and oregano.

Pozole is real comfort food simple and satisfying, especially when served with such warmth and in bottomless bowls. It was fantastic to experience something like this in London where apart from the odd decent attempt, authentic Mexican food is scarce, everyone's swept up in the current craze for burritos and overpriced, sanitised tacos. Over dinner Rosa indulged my passion for her native cooking, explaining in depth the differences between various moles and listing the tacos she was going to eat when she got home. I left longing for a return trip.

In London, Mestizo (a Mexican owned restaurant) serves Pozole which I haven't tried yet http://www.mestizomx.com/london.html . Alternatively have a go yourself, there are various recipes online and you can get the ingredients from either El Azteca (cheaper) http://www.elaztecafood.co.uk/ the website's in Spanish but they speak English, or Cool Chile (more expensive but more user friendly) http://www.coolchile.co.uk/ . Casa Mexico in Bethnal Green is also very good with a superb range or Mexican cupboard essentials and cookware including molcajetes, traditional lava rock mortar and pestles.

A huge thanks to the Ramírez-Martínez family and best of luck back in Querétaro!

Coctel de Ostiones: 23p Tesco Oysters

2009-02-14T15:08:00.017Z

This morning, waking up feeling decidedly jaded, I popped to Tesco's for a litre of lucozade and a pork pie. Ever the benevolent dictator they were offering oysters half price at 23p each in an attempt to stir the Valentine's desires of the British public. Taking advantage of their generous offer I bought a dozen and made an oyster cocktail based on a Mexican seaside favourite Coctel de Ostiones. The classic, fresh combination of lime, coriander, chili and tomato coupled with the smack of the sea did wonders for my hangover.

Coctel de Ostiones (Serves 2):

12 rock oysters,
2 shallots,
2 crisp tomatoes,
1/3 cucumber,
1 green chili (Serrano ideally),
2 tbsp tomato ketchup,
juice of 1 lime,
hot sauce to taste (Valentina, Cholula if you have it, tabasco will do)
black pepper
sliced avocado to garnish.

Finely chop the shallots, tomatoes, cucumber and chili. Combine in a bowl with the shucked oysters and liquour. Mix in the ketchup, lime juice and hot sauce and season with black pepper. It's good eaten straight away or can be left in the fridge for 30 min or so for the flavours to mulch and the oysters to cevichify. Serve in a sundae glass (if you've got one) and garnish with avocado.

This recipe works equally well with a variety of seafood. Traditionally octopus, prawns, crab and conch might be used, or a combination (campechana). In the case of octopus, crab and prawns boil, beforehand and reserve some cooking liquor to add to the cocktail.

Democratic Republic of the Congo: The Double Club

2009-02-10T13:28:00.059Z

Carsten Höller's art installation opened in November and has since received some good reviews. Finally on Saturday I managed to get down there having excitedly, possibly unnecessarily, booked three weeks in advance with an intimidatingly well spoken hostess whom I mistook for the automated message.

The concept behind the Double Club (If I understand correctly) is a cultural exchange between the Congo and the West, bringing the food, the music and the aesthetics of both societies together side by side, 'creating a dialogue' as their website puts it. The bar is split between a Congolese beer shack (complete with wood imported from Kinshasa) and a polished copper cocktail bar 'The Two Horses Riders Club'. On the dancefloor rhythms alternate between Congolese Soukous and Western house, and the eclectic decor encompasses everything from Andy Warhol to large murals advertising 'Primus' beer. As fascinating as the whole experience was as art, I couldn't kid myself, I was there for the goat.

True to the double theme the restaurant serves a menu divided into both Congolese, and Western brasserie food. Arriving at 9:30 with the party already jumping we were seated on a sleek black designer table and chairs whilst the table next to us ate on white plastic garden furniture, such dichotomy. Although it seemed the done thing to order a mix of Western and Congolese (with most diners veering towards Western) we went Congolese on the waiter, ordering everything on offer, 9 dishes or so which was just about right for the six of us. I was massively disappointed to find they were out of 'Primus' the Congolese beer that was trumpeted about the club. I had heard explorers tales of thirst slaying 1ltr bottles, unfortunately we had to make do with dainty Spanish bottles of Estrella.

The flippant 'I'll have one of everything' brought a fine selection of exotic dishes;

Liboke Na Mbisi (Catfish cooked in marantacee leaves)
Goat in Liboké (Goat stew in marantacee leaves)
Makayubu (Saltfish cooked with onions, tomatoes and chili)
Chicken Bouakee (a tomato, pepper and chicken stew)
Pig's trotter with white beans
Kossa Kossa (Large prawns with a chili and garlic sauce)
Fumbwa (Yam leaves cooked with peanut paste and smoked saltfish)
Pondu (Manioc leaves cooked with smoked saltfish and palm oil)
Bitekuteku (Green vegetables with aubergine and smoked saltfish)

These were accompanied by plain boiled rice, fried plantain, and Chikwange (manioc paste baked in a loaf shape in marantacee leaves).

The goat I'd been looking forward to wasn't bad. The sauce with tomato and chili was flavoursome and well spiced but lacked the richness of it's West Indian counterparts. The meat although tender was dry and hadn't stood up to a stewing, it failed to impart the wisdom obtained from tougher, fattier cuts on the bone.

A surprising highlight however was the catfish. My prejudices had prevented me from trying it in the past; as a freshwater bottom feeder I had heard it tasted muddy and bland. The catfish at the Double Club was a revelation. Steamed in a bundle of leaves with onions, garlic, chili and lime juice, it was clean and refreshing.

Another new experience was the various dishes of greens, which we over did a bit. Fumbwa (yam leaves with peanut paste and smoked saltfish) was rich and satisfying yet hard to eat much of. Pondu (manioc leaves cooked with smoked saltfish) reminded me a lot of its descendant, West Indian Calaloo. It's an acquired taste (but very good for you) and the slightly bitter gelatinous leaves needed more saltfish to liven them up. Bitekuteku, Amaranth leaves (used in the Jamaican version of Calaloo) were very similar but benefited from the addition of aubergine which had caramelised nicely.

There were the more conventional dishes such as Makayabu (Saltfish with onion, tomatoes and chili) which appeared to be saltcod and was well prepared. The fish was still firm yet not too salty, perfectly complimented by the sweetness of the tomatoes and onions. The trotters and white beans were pleasant, the combination struck me as a possible Belgian/French colonial legacy. Chicken Bouakee, stewed chicken with tomatoes and peppers was tasty but nothing exciting and the Kossa Kossa giant prawns were big prawns which needed perking up a bit with a chili and vinegar sauce. At £11.00 for three they weren't my choice.

Chikwange the baked cassava paste made for a challenging side dish. Starchy and tasteless with a thick gluelike consistency which coated the roof of your mouth it was clearly a staple born out of necessity. Dipped in stew it was ok.

The Congolese side of the menu was considerably cheaper than the Western. Between the six of us including a couple of beers each and wine (no palm wine unfortunately) it was about £190.

Having finished the meal I headed to the toilets hoping I wouldn't have to squat in the cubicle with the long drop. They were pitch black, whether this was Carsten's comment on Conrad's description of the Congo as 'The Heart of Darkness' I don't know, but men emerged with wet shoes and women with bizarre make up.

I have to admit I arrived at the Double Club with preconceptions. I was expecting complete pretension, it's sponsored by Fondazione Prada (and was originally going to be called the Prada Congo Club!). In an interview I saw, Höller seemed Teutonically humourless. Having been to restaurants which appear to be at the heart of ethnic communities in London I was very sceptical of the Double Club's arty 'fabrication' of Congolese culture and was really just there to try the food.

It is a bit pretentious, but still quite a fun and relaxed atmosphere. There's a fascinating mix of people, from the glamorous and the arty to lanky scruffs like me. Tellingly there were a lot of Africans, not just Congolese, we also met Ivorians and Cameroonians. The immaculately dressed Congolese 'Sappeurs' seemed so proud that the vitality of their culture was being celebrated so extravagantly when all too often the poverty and brutality of the Congo is highlighted in the media. As a fitting recognition of these problems 50% of the club's profits are being donated to the Unicef 'City of Joy' Charity for the women and children victims of the country's civil war.

The Double Club, 7 Torrens Street EC1V 1NQ
Tel: 020 7837 2222

Algeria: El Bled

2009-02-07T15:00:00.023Z

Trying my best to keep to alphabetical order, Afganistan, Albania (Kosovo, will have to go back to Albania) I dragged a couple of colleagues down to 'El Bled' in Streatham for an Algerian. 'El Bled' is the Arabic for 'village' which really sums the place up. White washed and ceramic tiled, it was full of homesick young Algerian men dispatching plates of Merguez Frites, engrossed in the football or slamming dominos. We could well have been in the neigbourhood caf in Algiers.

The window advertised specialities such as Tadjine, Couscous and Shorba, unfortunately all they had was Merguez, lamb chops and liver grilled on a panini maker. According to the one man owner/chef/waiter they had had a lamb and chickpea Shorba (soup) but had sold out at lunch. Nevertheless the grill was pleasant enough, succulent lamb chops and spicy Merguez which oozed unctious paprika infused fat. The only let down was the tough over cooked liver 'a la greasy spoon'. As in North Africa the meat was served on one communal plate for us all to dig in, alongside salad, chips and a superb Harisa which benefited from a generous glug of olive oil. To drink we were given an interesting Algerian apple drink with a bizarre bubblegum tang.

The meal ended with a mint tea which Oli my French friend, more of an expert on Maghreb cuisine and a useful translator, thought should have been sweeter and mintier. It was ok, far from the tea theatre of Middle Eastern restaurants in central London it was served in cups which said coffee on the side which I liked, authentically 'Bled'.

For a no thrills slice of Algerian life in the capital it's worth a trip particularly as the owner was so welcoming. If you want to eat Couscous or Tadjine though it might be worth ringing in advance.

El Bled 296-298 Streatham High Road, London SW16 6HG
Tel: 020 8769 9428

Kosovo: Alba

2009-01-28T22:03:00.064Z

So far I've been attempting to eat a London meal for each of the 193 'UN recognised' states alphabetically. I started with Afghanistan, and on Saturday wanted to try an Albanian. To my delight I managed to find a restaurant in Kilburn called 'Lisi', however on arrival I found that it was no longer called Lisi, it was called Alba, and it wasn't strictly Albanian it was Kosovan. Apart from the problem of skipping from A to K it made me realise how insipid the whole idea of 'UN recognised' countries is. I'm really limiting my experiences with this criteria, It doesn't do justice to the concept of truly discovering London's ethnic food given the fact that a large percentage of immigrant communities here are refugees from politically unstable regions or are from groups who don't have an internationally recognised homeland.

Kosovo is one such example, although its declaration of independence from Serbia in February 2008 was recognised by 54 member states (including the UK), it isn't officially a UN sovereign state. The main reason for independence was the fact that its population is largely made up of ethnic Albanians who had suffered persecution as part of Serbia, as a result Kosovan food and culture is quite similar to Albania's.

Arriving at Alba my eagerness to try what I then thought was Albanian food was initially met with disappointment when the waitress told us that after a busy day all they had left was beef burgers. Seeing the large Albanian/Kosovan family next to us mopping up the remnants of a feast I was somewhat incredulous. Clearly the British's love of eating familiar junk abroad instead of foreign muck was hampering our chances of an authentic Albanian, although she assured me the burgers were traditional. As we were on the verge of leaving she capitulated and said that they might be able to do us a mixed grill and salad, emphasising it would be Kosovan and not the Albanian we'd pleaded for for the past five minutes.

Waiting for the food to arrive we were entertained by the Kosovan news. Features included some poor unfortunates paraded round at gun point and a startled Father Jack lookalike being dragged out of his cubby hole; our fellow diners didn't bat an eyelid. What seemed like an amazing satelite link to Pristina could well have been a pre-recorded video as the newsreader read premiership football results from before Christmas.

Not sure quite what to expect (there were no menus) we were presented with a selection of charcoal grilled beef. This included a sirloin steak (overdone for my liking), Sudjuk a smoky beef sausage flavoured with garlic and paprika, Cevapcici a kofte style kebab of beef mince, a piece of chicken fillet, and finally the beef burger we'd been threatened with earlier. Despite my reservations the burger was actually pretty good, like the rest of the meat it had imbibed the sweet smokiness of the charcoal, there was a nice chili kick from pepper flakes and the onions in the mince had retained a pleasant crunch. However as with the Cevapcici kebab, the mince was too fine and lacked sufficient texture. The grill was accompanied by side dishes of hot pickled peppers, a salad topped with mint and a feta like cheese, and Hajvar a delicous spicy relish of roasted peppers, aubergine, garlic and chili.

The portion failed to satisfy the three of us, so the waitress who had promised more if necessary obligingly brought out another plate. This time there was more steak, another sirloin, a small T-bone, chicken, mushrooms and once again the house speciality burger. The steak this time had been cooked more judiciously and was pinker. Unfortunately it had been smothered in a home made cottage cheese which drowned out the seared beefiness. Credit to the chef though who was working alone on a small grill, by 9:00 the place was full of Kosovan/Albanian families en masse, tables of ten and twenty, and the meat kept coming. To my relief we weren't missing out, the glamorous peroxide blondes and their thick necked, gold chained spouses were eating the same as us, devouring burgers with gusto.

As far as I can gather this is one of the few Albanian/Kosovan restaurants in London. It's the one recommended on the Albanian embassy's website (although it's Kosovan). As with Afghan Khayber it seems like the centre of the community for local Albanians/Kosovans, the owners have been there since 1993. There was a nice family feel to it and they seemed delighted by our interest in their food, proud of their burgers they also showed us how they smoke the home made Sudjuk sausages over the grill. The menu seems limited to the mixed grill (and a full English) but they do it fairly well. The prices are reasonable too, for three of us with a few beers it came to £48, though they don't seem to take card, be wary also of the card swallowing machine opposite.

In deference to my Kosovan experience, I am willing to add any country still seeking recognition and represented by a community in London to my original list of 193 countries (even Wales!). Ban Ki-Moon and his UN goons won't stand in the way of my fork.

Alba, 5 Malvern Road, Kilburn, NW6
Tel: 020 76258932

Afghanistan: Afghan Khayber

2009-01-24T15:22:00.080Z

There's an old Pashtun saying that 'Every anguish passes except the anguish of hunger'. Gripped by such an anguish one Friday I decided to make the perilous journey to Hanwell, and carried on up to the 'Afghan Khayber'.

There's estimated to be around 50,000 Afghans in London, and Hanwell with two Afghan restaurants seems to have quite a large community. Despite the restaurant being empty apart from a young couple, there was a constant stream of locals, largely Afghan families buying carrierbags of steaming naan straight from the tandoor. The place feels quite authentic (or at least what I'd imagine a Kabul chow house to be like). The walls are white washed and decorated with rugs and ornate weavings, the ubiquitous giant teapot sits expectantly in the window, hoping one day it'll get its chance. There's also a large recliner with a low table should you wish a more authentic experience, much to my relief the five of us didn't fit.

On ordering we found that much of the menu was unavailable. Admirably the owners are narrowing it down to strictly Afghan dishes and jettisoning so called Iranian impostors such as Jujeh Kebab and Spinach Ba Sibzamini. To start we went for Borani Banjan, aubergine slices fried with garlic and tomatos and topped with yoghurt, and Borani Sabzi, sauteed spinach with yoghurt. Both were simple and delicious mopped up with a 2ft naan.

This was followed by two pasta dishes (an Uzbek contribution to Afghan cuisine I'm told). Mantu, rich, steamed parcels of minced lamb and onions flavoured with chili and coriander, coated in yoghurt and a tomato and split pea sauce; and Ashak, leek filled ravioli, sweet and salty. It was washed down with Dogh (pronounced a flem summoning Dohhhk) a traditional drink of yoghurt, mint and cucumber similar in taste to raita. It's tasty and the perfect antidote to a hot Kabul summer I'm sure, but I soon opted for a beer.

It's BYOB so I popped a few doors up to a Russian shop 'Pogrebok'. It felt like I was in Novosibirsk, everything was written in Cyrrilic. Walking back I wondered if there was any animosity between Afghan Khayber and their Russian neighbours given the events of the 1980s. My questions were soon answered when we opened a Baltika and it cannoned a jet of beer across the table, drenching a fellow diner. An embarassing incident in a dry Muslim restaurant, typical KGB inventiveness.

For our main courses we ordered a selection of kebabs; Shami, coarsely minced lamb sausage shaped kebabs flavoured with garlic, cumin and chili, moist with the right amount of fat, and Kofta Chalau, finely minced lamb patties with a hint of cardamon. The latter came in a rich tomato sauce, supposed to be with chickpeas (which were dually omitted). Delicious as the Kofta were, the sauce was far too oily for my liking, It may be more suited to Afghan tastes (and winters).

We encountered the same problem with the other Qormas (Curries) we ordered. A lamb Kahari was deep with slowly cooked onions but was oily and the meat used, perhaps too lean, had shrunk and dried up a bit. The chicken Qorma was sweet and sour with a nice tang, but would have been more succulent with thigh meat as opposed to breast. These were accompanied by Chalow; basmati rice boiled until almost cooked and then finished in the oven with oil and butter, which was excellent, as were the 70p giant naans which were drawing in the regulars. Chatney, a fresh relish of vinegar, tomato, chili and coriander cut nicely through the fat of the kebabs.

Our final plate was Qabuli Palao, Afghanistan's national dish of rice cooked with a lamb shank and stock, topped with carrots, raisins and almonds. The portion was intimidating, it was nice enough but the rice lacked the lambiness I'd hoped for. The key perhaps is to render enough lamb/mutton fat at the start of cooking. The meat itself was flavoursome but again was a touch too dry.

I'd certainly recommend Afghan Khayber if you can make it out to Hanwell, it was a really genuine place with no pretensions and seems like an important part of the community. As my first real Afghan experience I'm unqualified to speak about it with any authority. We had a satisfying meal which could have been better. The highlight was certainly the pasta, the Mantu and the Ashak, and it was great to see the owners take a real pride in it. The price was very reasonable, five of us ate, starters and mains for just over £50. Afghan food is something I really want to come back to, hopefully one day in its birthplace, which seems like a fascinating and enigmatic country.

Afghan Khayber, 203-205 Uxbridge Road, London, W7 3TH

Tel: 020 8579 5111

Next stop Albania........

Kabulawayo?

2009-01-23T14:18:00.010Z

So here's the rub, London is arguably the most multicultural city in the world. Amongst it's 7 million inhabitants there are communities representing well over 100 different countries and speaking around 300 different languages. What fascinates me most is the food that centuries of migration have brought the Capital. There's such diversity from the Brick lane bagels/beigels of 19th century Jewish immigrants, to the feijoada and churrasco of Brazil's recent arrivals.

I'm obsessed by ethnic food and I love travelling, ideally I'd be meandering around the world from kitchen to kitchen; however as an indebted graduate currently struggling to find gainful employment, I'm boracic. Instead I've decided to explore what's on my doorstep, I want to see just how multicultural London's food is, so I've set myself a challenge.

There are currently 193 sovereign states (countries) in the world, I'm going to try and eat a meal from each of them in London. Ideally I'll find a restaurant for each cuisine, but accepting that this might prove difficult (Vatican City?) and having exhausted all avenues, I'll try and cook it myself. The plan is to attempt it alphabetically, from Afghanistan all the way through to Zimbabwe. Though if the opportunity arises to eat a Vanuatuan early on, this may go out the window. All in all I'm expecting this to take a couple of years but I'm really looking forward to it, and please if you are from any nation under represented in London (eg. Benin, Bhutan, Turkmenistan) do get in touch.