Essaouira Night Market

Cowie and I went on holiday to Essaourira at the beginning of September. We couldn’t get out of Marrakesh fast enough. Within a day we had escaped the panic inducing heat and feral bustle in search of sun, sand, waves and fish.

We’re going to take you on a culinary journey of tagines, fresh fish and Moroccan imagination but only once we’ve set the scene with some photos. The first couple are from the dock at night and the ones that follow are from the incredible market that electrifies Essaourira on a nightly basis.

As soon as the sun dropped an air raid siren announced the transition of day into night. Within seconds the narrow, bustling, twisting streets emptied as the residents all raced home for supper. Our holiday coincided with Ramadan which gave our week an extra cultural dynamic.

Half an hour later and the streets returned to their normal chaotic state and the night market kicked into action…

I became slightly obsessed with the graffiti on this doorway (which according to Joshua’s comment is by a French artist called C215). It seemed weirdly out of place. But this is part of Essaourira’s mystique. It’s well known as an artistic and cultural hot-spot. Not only did Orson Welles film his epic tale of Othello here, but Jimi Hendrix also wrote a song called Castles Made of Sand inspired by Essaourira. It’s a city that is buzzing with artists who flock here for the stunning light and never leave.

They take great pride in the way they present their wares. Nothing short of perfect pyramids is allowed. We watched from afar as young men carefully groomed their colourful tetrahedrons and wondered whether they’d better off not all selling exactly the same thing.

It seemed like the olive vendor must have come from the same stack is high sell it cheap school as the spice man. In fact they probably had the same geometry teacher.

This is one of my favourite pictures. I had to lean against a rickety wooden strut to keep the camera still enough to let the light in. It really captures the vibrancy of the colours and reminds me, in a silly way, of Rick Stein’s “Coast to Coast” book cover. These preserved lemons made the ones you get in a jar from Belazu look very ersatz.

We were overwhelmed by the variety and volume of dates on display. It made me feel very ignorant to have thought that there might only be one type of date, when in fact there seem to be hundreds.

Which is why I like this picture of the date seller looking forlornly out, over his stall, for customers…

… and this one that makes a necklace of dried figs look like a piece of tribal jewelry.

I had to wait for ages for a break in the traffic to take this shot of a man selling mint by the bucketload. Mint tea is to Moroccan culture what a mug of milky, sweet builders is the Britain. No meal, conversation or negotiation is complete without it. We thought we’d prefer it without sugar, but soon learned it’s a lot better laced with something sweet.

We bought some deep fried cinnamon sweets that looked like worms. They were brittle, sticky and luckily not very moreish. Otherwise we could have been there all night and we’d both now be diabetic.

But my favourite photo of the whole lot is of this boy holding what looks like a conger eel. In this context it is as natural as anything. But can you picture it happening back in London? Behind him is Essaourira’s famous fish market where you choose your fish from the slab and they grill it for you as you try not to get freaked out by the fish guts that have seeped through your flip flop or by the number of of bugs that are about to find their way into your body! I’m sure it’s where Mitch Tonks got his FishWorks idea from.

Essaourira is a mesmerising place. Almost every vista is worthy of a photograph. We’ll tell you about some of the amazing food we ate and experiences we had soon.

Munnar’s epic tea plantations

Our bus chugged out of Ernakulam station and headed east towards the magnificent Western Ghatts. For two hours we snaked in and out of manic traffic before we emerged at the lucious green fringes of the mountains. The once diesel clogged air vanished leaving us gasping at the pristine fields of rice and the sight of mountains trying to out-do each other stretching into the distance.

Our bus revved up at the challenge ahead. It accelerated around every hair pin bend and seemed to try to barge oncoming vehicles off the road. Cowie and clung on to the bar in front of us like my mother would do on a rollercoaster! Luggage veered across the bus. Epic scenery whizzed past our glassless windows.

The vegetation at the base of the mountains was mainly rice but quickly changed to banana plantations and rubber trees which had plastic bags tied around their thin waists. After 4 hours of driving Cowie was becoming disappointed that we hadn’t seen any tea plantations yet. And no sooner had she said the word tea, than we’d rounded a particularly dangerous bend and seen this view…

The air was cool and misty. So different from the hot, muggy air of Fort Cochin. Just the sort of climate that would suit British people in need of some respite. I guess this explains why Munnar was once such a favourite with the British! The climate is obviously perfect for tea as well. Once you get past a certain altitude every visible slope is covered in Camellia sinensis plants.

By the time we’d settled into our room the sun was beginning to dip glowing with a yellow hue first…

… before departing for the night with a purplish burst…

As far as I could work out, we were at the highest point that this latitude has to offer anywhere around the world. Looking west every hill was below us.

The next day we were taken on a tour of the tranquil tea and cardamon plantations. Each tea bush is trimmed every 50 days to ensure that they only ever get the young shoots. The plants are around 125 years old and were planted by the British and are now run by Tata.

The plants below which look a bit like banana bushes are cardamon. They grow in the shade of other trees with their fragrant pods nestling at the base. We were fascinated to see the juicy pods – whenever we see them in spice packets they are normally shrivelled up and ugly. But these were fresh and attractive.

We also stumbled across passion fruit…

And coffee growing casually…

We were amazed at the fact that the plants that we consider exciting and tropical at home just grow carelessly on a mountainside in India…

We finished with a cup of cadamon tea before zooming off in a rickshaw to have a look around Munnar. I say zoom. That’s far from accurate, given the fact that we were too heavy to go uphill – I had to get out for small stints and then hop back in again when we got moving!

Munnar itself is hardly a tourist playground. There’s a bad tea museum and some dodgy cafes. The guidebooks did their best to sound enthusiastic but they failed to mention the fact that Munnar has a brilliant market. We found it by mistake and were amazed by the range and quality of the produce… not to mention how friendly all the traders were…

Man lurking behind the aubergines

Man absent mindedly watching his flock

Better than Sainsbury!

Loads of ginger

Green chillies galore

Carrots

Very neat beans – probably where the expression, “bean counter” came from

More garlic than a Frenchman’s larder

Okra

Bitter gourds looking grarnly and unfriendly

This cow loitered by the exit to the market feasting on the leftovers looking like the happiest cow in the whole world!

We bought as many spices as we could lay our hands on and stocked up on local tea. To our joy we later found out that the goodies we bought in Munnar market were a tenth of the price than they are elsewhere! Smugness is all!

Given the state of the bustimetable below, we decided to spurn the bus for a trip to Alleppey in favour of a taxi which, whilst less fun, ended up transforming our holiday.

Munnar is a gorgeous place. Relaxed. Idyllic. Tranquil. Green. Verdent. And spectacularly beautiful. If you are spending any time in Kerala please find time to pay this area a visit. And make sure you arrive by bus!

For more information about Munnar have a look on Trip Advisor. We stayed at the Shamrock but wish we’d been able to get into Olive Brook. Both offered free tours of the plantations and cooking lessons.

Clapham Farmers’ Market Supper

Cowie and I made the most of our Sunday back in London by heading off to the Clapham Farmers’ Market in Clapham South. Just off the very smart Abbeville Road it opens every Sunday in a school playground. It’s our local market and tends to do fantastic veg, good apple juice, tasty sausages, brilliant bread and some wacky cheeses. Apart from one occassion when I bought 3 venison shanks we haven’t really been that impressed by the meat.

We pottered around sampling bits and pieces. The goat cheese stall is brilliant. As is the buffalo milk stall. If I’d had some more cash on me I’d have bought some bufallo milk yoghurt. Maybe next time.

My coins were instead spent on a punnet of craggy looking artichokes, leeks, shallots and mushrooms. All for under a fiver. We beetled home and browned some chicken thighs before tossing in some bacon, shallots, leek and mushrooms which all took on a fantastic sheen. Before going off to play squash I added a cup full of rehydrated wild mushrooms and the liquor, some vegetable stock and a third of a bottle of red wine, some butter beans and a tin of tomatoes. Into the oven went some beetroot segments and some chopped artichokes to roast.

We came back to the house smelling of glory. The chicken had simmered its way to victory and the artichokes and beetroot had become soft, caremlised and deeply flavoured.

Although it may not look fantastic it was sensational. Rich, deep, flavoursome, moreish and not too expensive. Just what we needed after a frantic game of squash and a week eating cheese!

Val Thoren Market

Tuesday and Thursday are market days in Val Thoren. A fairly ugly town that needs a bit of va va voom to take your eyes away from the fairly monotonous bars and concrete buildings. This came in the form of a fantastic alpine market selling everything from warm gloves, hats and scarves to things that got me a bit more excited such as countless types of sausage, honey, stupidly smelly cheese and jams to die for.

Cowie had a great time nibbling away at all the freebies whilst I spent most of my time either posing for photographs with enormous hams or trying to find a cash point!

Cowie bought me a fabulous chanterelle mushroom sausage which smells like one of John Wright’s socks. I can’t wait to find a good recipe for it, or better still to simply slice it thinly and have it with some fine cheese and bread for lunch or a picnic.

It didn’t take me long to find the jam stall. It was heaving under the weight of scores of different types of conserve and preserve. I never know the difference. After much teeth sucking, humming, ahhing and rearranging of jars I decided on two classics. Arpicot and raspberry. I was tempted by the myrtle and the blackcurrant but we’ve already got some at home. I had a good lashing of both on some toast when I got back home and they are both delicious. Really fruity. Very French. But I have to say, the blackcurrant jam I got from Whitstable in the plain jar is the best jam I’ve ever had.

Creme de la Crepe, Borough Market

Anna’s entry into Cowie’s pancake competition was inspired, or more accurately stolen from Creme de la Crepe’s menu. Anna confessed under torture, but we were kind and allowed her to compete in the contest – not disimmilar to the Dwain Chambers fiasco recently.

Anna insisted we try out the pancakes at Creme de la Crepe which can now be found in the alleyway from Borough Market that leads up to the main part of London Bridge station.

Anna was at school with Katie who is Nick’s girlfriend. Nick is Mr Crepe. Cowie and I had a good potter around Borough Market to work up an apetite for our pancakes, picking up some salmon for supper and some delicious apples to turn into juice to refresh us after squash. When eventually we’d exhausted all the stalls and Cowie had accidentally stollen some ham that she thought was a free taster but was actually someone’s prized purchase, we joined the snaking queue for our crepe.

Unfortunately Nick had run out of ham and bacon which ruled out the croque monseir and the piggy went to market options so I went for “The Italian Job” which features sun dried tomatoes, lashings of pesto, roquette and goats cheese. Just like Anna made for our pancake party. Cowie was less adventurous and went for lemon and sugar which was really good too.

We had a good chat with Nick and Katie who are lovely and tried not to distract them too much from their feverish pancake making. The crepes were beautifully cooked and it’s great fun to watch them being made. The batter is pumped out from two taps and they then use a little wooden spreader to coat the hot plate. It doesn’t take long before you’re handed a wonderfully oragamied crepe oozing with goodies.

Nick and Katie are hoping to set up a pitch at Covent Garden and will cater for any event. What better way to end up a party than to have a crepe man. They’ve got a great website and sell goodies such as hoodies and t-shirts.

Fish, Borough Market

I’ve wanted to go to Fish in Borough Market for quite some time. It’s got a really cool look to it and reminds me of the hair wax I use! What better reason do you need to go to a restaurant!

Having spent the morning in the Design Museum and Tate Modern, we felt inspired and ready for some lunch. Clare used to work around the corner so knew exactly where to take us.

It’s a really cool looking restaurant with a strong orange identiry, not disimilar to a classy version of easyJet’s orange. It’s like being in a big greenhouse so is beautifully light and airy. Ideal for a friendly lunch.

Clare, I found out is a fellow skate fanatic. We both chose grilled skate wing whilst Joe opted for grilled sea bream. You can choose for your fish to be steamed or grilled and opt for a range of sauces or butters. I chose a garlic and herb butter and Clare went for salse verde. The skate was deliciously cooked and the herb butter did a great job of melting all over the fish. The vegetables on the side looked a bit sorry for themselves but turned out to be nutty and sweet.

My only minor gripe is that I love skate with caper butter. That salty, nutty, buttery sauce that oozes over the slick meat is an example of protein and sauce that are just made for each other. Each on their own pines for the other. The other sauce that’s great with skate is chorizo and and red pepper.

We had a great lunch and I would love to return to try the rest of their menu. It’s a very stylish place for lunch, especially when you’ve got the buzz and fun of Borough Market going on outside the enormous glass windows.

Canteen and Spitalfields Market

Cowie and I have been looking forward to paying Canteen a visit for Sunday lunch for ages… probably more than a year now. We’ve just always had other stuff to do and find the trek to Liverpool Street from Clapham a bit of a mission! Getting the bus from Shoreditch home once took 3 hours and involved a detour via Trafalgar Square the night the Italians won the football work cup…

So we zoomed up to Spitalfield eager to get stuck into some bartering and haggling… but were disappointed to find the old market is being renovated and is due to reopen shortly… so we had to make do with the new market stalls just outside Leon, Giraffe and most importantly, Canteen.

Stalls that pop up at Borough, Albeville Road, Good Food Show, London Food Show etc were all on show selling divie chocolate brownies and bananna cake, gorgeous focaccia with olives, amazing pies, stunning chocolate and every other goodie you could think of… London’s markets are brilliant. It made us want to give up our day jobs and start a stall…

Having got over our disappointed at the market being somewhat truncated we nipped over the road to Brick Lane to check out the Shepard Fairey exhibition at Stolen Spaces. Just as we set off I overheard an American girl call out to her friend, “Hey Shepard…”. How bizarre!

The exhibition was immense. In a vast, industrial space above Brick Lane we emerged into a cavernous space that probably used to be a clothing factory. On the bare concrete walls hung powerful images showing Shepard Fairey’s evolution of his Obey/Andre propoganda into a collection of posters/stencil paintings that couldn’t hammer home his anti war, pro freedom message any more explosively. The message that we are all being watched in an Orwellian state is particularly apt in London, and even more so on Brick Lane as London has the highest proportion of CCTV cameras per person in any city! He managed to sell 90% of his work on the opening night… not bad for what a lot of the art world would call a vandall!

We ventured back to Canteen via a vibrant market on Brick Lane which could’t have had more imaginative stuff on sale… full of originality. Great T shirts, awesome belt buckles, delicious food from every culture of the globe. And we popped out at the rear to see a red London RootMaster bus set up as a restaurant in between a clapped out car by Banksy and a meteorite type thing by D-Face… so cool. I’ve promised to take Cowie there for a quirky evening of vegan food and bus passes! Very appropriate because Cowie sat us next to a stinky tramp on the bus this morning!

Back at the ranch in Spitalfield we had to queue for about 10 minutes for a table at Canteen which, in conjunction with the school dinner tables, reminded us of Busaba and Wagamamas… no bad thing. The menu is a tour de force of British classics. From macoroni cheese, through potted shrimps, roast duck, veal pie, abroath smokies, smoked haddock and mash and fish and chips. We couldn’t find anything we didn’t want! No mean feat.

We were seated at the end of a long communual table right next to the kitchen… perfect. It gave us a chance to see all the goodies flying out. Our first observations were that quite a few of the plates seemed to spend too long on the pass. And we weren’t sure putting a salad under the hot lamps was a wise move either! On top of this we were quite surprised that not one of the chefs (5 of them) were British bearing in mind this is a British restaurant. And come to think of it neither were any of the waiters or greeting staff. But then again it doesn’t matter because all of the food was sublime. In many ways its a great endoresement of how good British food is… and of what a brilliantly mixed culture we are lucky to have in London.

We ordered some apple and tomato juice whilst we filtered our way through the totally delicious menu. When Cowie wasn’t looking I asked the waiter for some home made pork scratchings which arrived in a little kiln jar and put a massive smile on my face. The combination of salt and fat is a bit like a class A drug… except more addictive and probably worse for me in the long run!

Our water was from the eco friendly Belu which gets another tick in the box. I love the little icon of a penguin with a smile on his face… and the fact that all profits go towards bore holes in Africa and other great water projects in the developing world.

All this boring stuff aside…. Cowie had smoked haddock and mash with spinach and holandaise which was so, so good I could have licked her plate after she had finished.

Luckily I didn’t get food envy because my veal pie was so epic! Stunningly crispy pastry and rich gooey innards took all the pain away from playing hockey on Saturday. The greens were great too… mainly because they were smothered in gravy and veal juice.

All for £32… what a great place. I can’t wait to go back.