The Anchor, Walberswick, Suffolk

One of the main reasons we decided to spend a long weekend in Suffolk was the Anchor at Walberswick. We’d heard about their fabulous range of wines by the glass and impressive cooking and when we visited their website couldn’t click on the “book here” button quickly enough. It also had the seal of approval from the queen of Gastro Pub endorsements – Diana Henry.

We spent the day in Southwold enjoying Adnams beer, sand dunes, beach huts, idyllic sunshine and an impressive picnic of squid, octopus and smoked sprats bought from The Black Olive (which is on the Independent’s top 50 list). Before heading back to our BnB to get changed out of shorts and into something more suitable for dinner, we headed down to the estuary and caught the ferry across to Walberswick. Simon Barnes, Times columnist extraordinare and Suffolk evangelist, claims the short hop across the river is one of Suffolk’s most impressive features and we find it hard to disagree. Walberswick is a stunning village nestled into the nook between estuary and sand dunes. It’s got a heavenly feel and more than lives up to the charm of its name.

On our way back we popped into the fishing huts that cling to the side of the estuary and were wowed by the charm and kindness of the fishermen. Our favourite shack sported some unusual fish, on top of the usual suspects such as garfish and eel. It was 5pm as we left and the queues of cars gathering to collect their fish and chips was already developing. Our appetites were well and truly whet.

So we arrived at the Anchor, hoping for something to rave about. We had imagined a range of fishy specials, plucked from the day boats and served with panache. But what we got was far more prosaic and, in short, disappointing.

More often than not, I want to eat everything on the menu. But I found myself reduced to ordering fish soup followed by haddock and chips. Cowie opted for scallops followed by cod, in a repeat of the previous night. Other options on the menu included beef bourguignon and lamb stew. It seemed very odd given that we were in the middle of summer and by the sea. Given the amazing array of fish we’d seen 2 hours earlier, only 300 yards from the restaurant, we were very disappointed.

My fish soup was fine. But the rouille was underpowered. The bowl would have benefited from an injection of fish flesh, or a couple of crab claws. Meanwhile Cowie’s scallops with bacon were well cooked but nothing you couldn’t do at home after a long day at work. Both starters lacked imagination.

Where the starters failed to get out of third gear, their excellent range of wines by the glass succeeded. A fresh and expressive Gewürztraminer added life to my fish soup and a glass of fine Macon worked well with Cowie’s scallops.

My deep fried haddock with jalapeño tartare sauce and chips was poor. Whilst the fish itself was flaky, the batter had been overdone so it was brittle and dark mahogany rather than golden and light. The chips weren’t crispy and clagged. And the jalapeño tartare sauce lacked heat. I applaud the imagination, but would have preferred either a jalapeño sauce, or a tartare sauce, rather than a confused hybrid. Compared to our fish and chips the next day from Aldeburgh’s temple to all things battered, this was poor.

Cowie’s baked cod was a lovely piece of fish that was beyond reproach. We just wish there had been a way not to order cod. That garfish from the other side of the estuary would have been interesting…

It pains me to write a disappointing piece about the Anchor because I really want to love it. It’s got so much going for it. Owners, Mark and Sophie Dorber, have a stellar reputation as beer guru and cook respectively. Mark’s recently set up a “beer academy” at the Anchor and is doing a fine job with on the booze front. And their collaboration with Food Safari is inspired. But as people have commented on Trip Advisor, the experience doesn’t live up to the hype which makes me think our underwhelming experience wasn’t a one off. The location is great, the wine list and range of beers are fabulous, their website is stunning and their philosophy is spot on. But their food lacks creativity and precision and, ultimately, is the anchor that is holding them back from being a roaring success.

The Triple Plea, Halesworth, Suffolk

Suffolk has been tempting us for a while now with a lift of the skirt here and a fluttering of the eyelashes there. There’s only so much gastronomic temptation a food obsessive can take. So we took Oscar Wilde’s advice and gave in.

We stayed at the spacious and very civilised Stables of Henham Park where the recent Latitude Festival was held.

The room was big enough for the entire Royal Family and our breakfasts were as good as you’ll find in a BnB.

They even managed to provide us with friendly co-guests to talk to around the breakfast table and decorated the walls with fantastic photography of the local area by Chris Calver.

We absorbed the recommendations of the visitors’ pack and booked ourselves in for dinner at a pub called the Triple Plea in the nearby village of Halesworth.

All we wanted was a casual supper that didn’t break the bank but also didn’t make us feel that we had wasted a meal. We drove from our country estate at Henham through rolling English countryside, bathed in a honeyed glow of evening sunshine in search of dinner. Unfortunately, Halesworth isn’t blessed with good looks. It’s as grim as Southwold is prim.

But luckily we weren’t there to eat the town. A simple menu laden with local produce and friendly staff greeted us with just enough warmth to cover up the fact that the pub was perilously quiet.

I devoured my ham hock terrine with Suffolk chutney and wholegrain toast like a man who’s just been on an impromptu 6.1 mile run with his triathlon mad girlfriend. O hang on! That is what happened! It was generosity on a plate and had me hooked.

Cowie’s home cured gravadlax was just as good. Or at least I assume it was because I was barely given a sniff. Both dishes were well executed and are just the sort of thing a friendly local pub should be feeding you with.

My comfort food craving continued as I tucked into one of the most satisfying plates of liver and bacon that I’ve had the good fortune to devour. Soft, slightly pink liver, sage potato cake and shards of crispy bacon accompanied by a pint of local beer had me lecturing Cowie on how this was close to being the Platonic Ideal of liver and bacon. But, I shan’t bore you with that.

Cowie’s cod crusted with herbs and breadcrumbs was well cooked, but suffered from a soggy crust and boring, steamed vegetables. This was our only low point and served to pin point the pub’s culinary ceiling.

The food was far from adventurous, but it was just what we wanted. Quality local ingredients cooked with skill and served by very friendly people. It’s not going to find its way into too many guidebooks or award ceremonies. But if every town had a pub like this, serving well cooked local food, the country would be a better place. All it needs is a few more people to give it some atmosphere.

Photos are from the Stables at Henham Park and the Triple Plea’s website respectively – apart from the top one which is mine.

Sketch Gallery – An Advertising Agency in Disguise?

“Arrive with an open mind and imagine, if you will, a painting that never dries” – (Mark Lawson Bell-Artistic Director)

Sketch is one of the most creative places I’ve been to. More playful than most art galleries. More imaginative than most theatre productions. And as creative as any advertising agency I’ve been involved with. Sketch is an art gallery, bar, living room, tea shop, restaurant, bonkers water closet and catwalk rolled into one. If you are the kind of person who likes ideas you’ll love it. You’ll drink it in and ask for more.

We were greeted by the most charming Maitre D’ we have ever encountered. Nothing was too much trouble and everything was done with a twinkle in the eye. He showed us around the whole building including being allowed to peak into the Lecture Room where a handful of lucky people were tucking into some Michelin starred food…

On our tour we fell in love with their eccentric taste in art. In particular the sculpture of two dogs going at it hammer and tongs and the glitter ball girl with syringes sticking out of her head! The whimsical art sets the tone for the creative food that we were to discover in the Gallery.

We were given the best seats in the restaurant with full view over everything. It was like being a dictator watching your troops do a big parade… except the troops were all girls and rather more glamorous than what your normally see on Newsnight. We sipped more champagne as a big ball bounced around the white walls, projected on the bare white walls. The Gallery is a blank canvas that is brought alive by a series of projectors that captures Mark Lawson Bell’s opening statement. Apparently the previous projection of an irritable fly sent everyone a bit mad!

The bread was so good that Cowie tucked in too. The fact that it was served in a basket made of Lego had me almost in tears with giddy joy. It transported me straight back to my childhood memories of messing around for hours, days, months and years with multi coloured bricks and little men with arms that don’t move very well. “Little touches” like this aren’t just good ideas they are moments of genius that have been dreamt up by someone who understands the way the mind works and should really work in advertising. I vaguely remember the bread being good (and if it hadn’t been the whole thing would have imploded), but it’s the Lego basket that has stayed with me. And the message encoded in the Lego basket is of playfulness and creativity.

Our starters were works of art that tasted almost as good as they looked.

Tahiti – ceviche of grouper, barramundi & red snapper marinated in coconut milk & lime was a platter of firm fish textures that aims to transport you to Tahiti, not that I’ve ever wanted to go. It was cool, light and full of tropical tones. Maybe it should have been called a Pina Colada though.

Cowie’s “Red Tuna” was a giggle. What we thought was tuna turned out to be watermelon! And then when the tuna was served it was soft and fiendishly good. Not sure we should be eating tuna though. Tut tut.

A shared bowl of ravioli with a chicken and gorgonzola broth was superb. The waiter almost refused to let us have them because he wanted them for himself. I couldn’t help myself from pouring more sauce over my pasta from a silver tea pot that I wanted Cowie to sneak into her handbag!

For some reason I chose beef tartare (diced rib-eye with mustard, gherkins, spring onions, capers, egg mollet, Espelette pepper, parsley, fondant potato, fresh spicy tomato). Get raw beef wrong and it’s not only dangerous, but also highly unpleasant. The next tartare I eat is going to have to be very good to beat this one.

Mediterranean cod was great fun. We almost sent the plate back at first as it looked like a mozzarella and tomato salad. But as Cowie started playing we realised that the soft white cheese was actually cod and the olives were dark green gnocchi. The dish had been styled by someone who likes to tease! The fish flaked. The dark green gnocchi were soft but had bite. It was a beautiful dish that reinforced sketch’s reputation for cooking fish.

Cowie loved Malabar. It is a dessert that has been inspired by a brand of French bubblegum. It’s one of the stars of the menu, but given that I don’t like bubblegum it isn’t for me.

My Cadiz was a brilliant rhubarb and orange number. It came with some rhubarb marmalade and shards of glassy rhubarb sticking out of some ice cream. Not only was it beautiful, but it acted as a giant palette cleanser. Any residual beefiness from the tartare was replaced by a feeling of freshness. It has inspired me to make some rhubarb marmalade.

Despite our banquet being at an end, the fun hadn’t stopped. My espresso was served in a flexible coffee cup that had a touch of Dali about it. And as for the Dr Evil loos… wow! I’ll let the pictures do the talking.

It wasn’t just a meal. It was a Hollywood assault on the senses. An uber-camp-experience that was fizzing with creativity and glamour. At sketch the idea comes first and then everything follows, just as it does in an ad agency. Rather than a kitchen it has a creative department. But it also comes with a bill so abrasive it is delivered in a sandpaper envelope. Luckily we’d taken advantage of their £50 off voucher on their facebook fan page and had held back on wine so whilst being so expensive it could cause a run on the Pound, was a fair price at 140 quid. Especially when you consider that the sketch experience means tickets for the theatre, art gallery and entry to a nightclub aren’t necessary.

Eating at sketch is like being a client and turning up to an advertising agency such as Mother where they will blow you away with their bonkers ideas and slick presentation and then send you an embarrisingly large bill. And sometimes their ideas will be full of hot air and hopeless. But because they are so fresh and original you’ll pay the bill and tell your friends to go there too. Sketch – are you an advertising agency in disguise?

All the photos are from a nice person at sketch.

Saltoun Supper Club – The best place to eat in Brixton?

The Saltoun Supper Club is refined, urbane, slick and charming. From the moment we arrived we were set at ease and made to feel welcome. The fact that it is on my doorstep in Brixton is a bonus of Forsythian proportions.

Arno’s house is a fabulous setting for dinner. If you had only 1 guess about what Arno does for a living you wouldn’t opt for something boring like accountancy. The whole house was like being in a photo shoot. But rather than feeling forced or intense, it just made us feel very special to be part of Arno’s world for the evening. In a nutshell, this is what makes “secret restaurants” so appealing. Restaurants rarely give you this feeling of intimacy and a direct connection with the person cooking your supper across the dining room.

Our starter of courgette carpaccio with barrel aged feta is something I wouldn’t order in a month of snow days. But it was as if Arno had read our minds. At the end of a hot day, after a sweltering tube journey, we were dying for something light and refreshing. The edible equivalent of a gin and tonic. I could hear Cowie humming with glee as she reached out her fork to steal a slither of courgette whilst I was thirstily draining a glass of Douglas’s prosecco.

A duck terrine then arrived, very photogenically, on the lid of an old port case. The terrine was wonderfully deep, tasting intensely of duck with a smooth richness that wouldn’t be out of place at an ambassador’s cocktail party. My tounge almost got splinters as I tried to lick the wooden platter.

A simple fillet of sea bass served with new potatoes and peas was a lovely piece of fish that was allowed to speak for itself. It wasn’t the evening for fancy sauces, especially when you conider Arno was cooking fish for 14 people in a small kitchen.

Then, Arno hit us with one of the best surprises I’ve encountered all year. He produced an oyster the size of Belgium from his fridge and asked if we’d like him to cook it for us! Wow.

Arno battled with the blighter for several minutes before poaching the enormous oyster and serving it to his awestruck guests with a beurre blanc let down with the poaching liquor. It stands out as the best thing I have eaten all year by quite some distance. It was so good I wouldn’t be surprised if he had laced it with opium. Unfortunately my photos don’t do it justice whatsoever…

Sharing a gigantic communal oyster is a surefire way to get the party started. Whatever imaginary barriers existed between individual tables or with Arno vanished. The decibels went up and we all mingled between tables as if we were at a friend’s dinner party.

Our eton mess with mango and salted caremel was simple and delicious, oozing style and caremel in equal measure.

The meal then officially finished with coffee and petit fours that put many restaurants to shame.

After a couple of tables had disappeared and Arno relaxed after a lot of hard work, we found ourselves being treated to a wine and cheese lock in with a bottle of wine that Douglas described as a “couth, cigar, hymnbook and distantly blackcurrant scented Bordeaux [which] turned out to be a vital delight.” What a treat.

We left on a high; buzzing just like you should do from restaurants, but o so rarely do.

P.S. Here’s what Douglas thought.

Kastoori – Vegetarian Magic in Tooting

Our trip to Kerala and Goa opened our eyes to the world of vegetarian food. The range of interesting and complex dishes we had that contained no meat or fish was astonishing. By the end of our trip we had stopped thinking of food in terms of a piece of protein plus some veggies and instead just enjoyed what was in front of us. In Kerala it is meat eaters who are the odd ones out, to the extent that places that serve meat are referred to as “non-vegetarian”.

So when we arrived at Kastoori, a vegetarian Indian restaurant in Tooting, I got rather excited and tried to order almost everything on the menu. Luckily the waiter stepped in and very purposefully told me to not be greedy and calm down! Weirdly, I quite enjoyed being put back in my place by a stranger with a notepad and a mustache. Let’s hope it’s not a strange fetish that’s beginning to rise to the surface! Luckily the waiter did allow us to order two of the best named dishes I’ve ever come across: Dahi Puri and the “not-un-Star-Warsy” Dahi Vada which I imagined arriving with a light saber and black mask.

The Dahi Puri are one of Kastoori’s signature dishes. The menu describes them as “taste-bombs” which does a pretty good job of bringing them to life. Crispy shells are filled with “diced potatoes, chick peas, puffed rice, onions, pani sauce, sweet and sour sauce and topped with yoghurt sauce”. I can’t remember the flavours much, but the textural experience was sublime.

Dahi Vada was far more fun to ask for than to eat, which was to be expected. I found the yoghurty sauce a bit overwhelming and made a beeline instead for the bhajis…

… which were sensational. Crisp, savoury and no-where near as greasy as they tend to be. I even convinced Cowie to have one!

Our Kastoori Bhatura was a wonderfully inflated chipatti that resembled a bready woopy-cushion. Dipped in our array of sauces and spicy condiments, it was fantastic.

Whilst we were pottering around India I kept missing out on having a dosa. They are large, think, rolled up pancakes filled with savoury sauces. The masala dosa at Kastoori was visually arresting, but unfortunately the spiced potato filling and accompanying sambar wasn’t quite as exciting.

(Putting a slightly dull filling to one side, it has made me think that a dosa could make a fantastic left field appearance at next year’s pancake competition as a follow up to our Crispy Aromatic Pork Belly Pancakes this year.)

The star of the main course was a chilli banana dish that is spiced with red chillies, lubricated with tomatoes and inspired by Africa. It was a one of the most unusual things I’ve eaten and had us wondering what John Torode and Greg Wallace would have said on Masterchef if you’d served it to them. I can just hear Pudding Face “Tut-tutting” and saying, “No, no. This is all wrong”. But it worked. What a dish. It’s worth the trip to Tooting alone.

A bean-ball curry and vegetarian curry were both good, but suffered from being in the shadow of the chilli banana…

Desserts are always terrible in Indian restaurants, but we couldn’t resist ordering a couple to test the water. Jeffrey Steingarten singles them out as being one of gastronomy’s great mysteries – “they have the texture of face cream”. And he’s not far wrong.

Rice pudding with pistachio was like someone had tipped a can of Ambrosia into the microwave that I could see through the kitchen door and then crumbled some pistachios on top…

And the comically conical mango ice cream was clearly missing from the set of Babestation.

But the desserts were never going to be any good, so let’s just have a laugh and reflect on the fact that Kastoori is a brilliant, inexpensive restaurant, that happens to be both Indian and vegetarian. And luckily for us, just down the road. Just don’t arrive with a yearning for chicken tikka masala.

Dining with Dos Hermanos at Casa Brindisa

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For other write ups see:

Dinner Diaries
Dos Hermanos
Gastro Geek
Silverbrow on Food

Light of Gurkha, Balham

We’re spoilt in Balham by the Holy Cow. Their curries come up trumps time and time again. I often make the short walk to pick up our food just so I can see the chefs in action as they knock out hundreds of dishes a night. Their lamb achari never fails to wow me. The only problem is, you can’t eat in.

And that’s where the Light of Gurkha comes in. It has taken up where Nanglo left off. The site has been given a fabulous makeover and is now bedecked with pink upholstery and dark wood that make it seem more like a Virgin Atlantic departures lounge rather than a Nepalese curry house. They have copied the smoking area from the Clarence next door to great effect. It gives the space at the back a purpose. A lot of care (and money) has been invested in bringing this restaurant back to life. And it has worked.

Feeling ravenous after Cowie’s triathlon (supporting is hard work too!) we didn’t hold back. Tandoori chicken and lamb chops were fantastic starters. The meat was juicy in the middle and crusted with charred spices on the outside. It has inspired us to give them a go in our clay oven. Maybe if we ask them nicely they will give us the recipe…

Cowie’s chicken saag was delicious. The iron in the spinach seemed pretty appropriate given Cowie’s athletic exertions earlier in the day. A smokey aubergine dish was just as good and has been earmarked for future consumption.

I decided to benchmark their lamb achari against the Holy Cow’s where the slow cooked shoulder meat yields and melts like lamby butter. Here, the achari was sharper with a flavour that is very similar to the lime pickle you load onto your popadom. This is far from surprising, given that the dish is based on “achar” which is a way of pickling vegetables in oil. I’m in no position to say whether the Light of Gurkha or the Holy Cow serves a more authentic lamb achari. My hunch is that the Light of Gurkha might be more true to its roots because it has a punchier taste profile than the more rounded version from across the road. They are both good. They are both different. And if push came to shove I’d side with the Holy Cow.

Spiced pumpkin had the potential to be fabulous, but could have done with being cooked until the flesh was more tender and the flavour had a chance to explore its potential.

The service was excellent. We’d heard that they had a few problems with their first batch of staff, but these teething problems seemed to be ironed out now. Whilst it wasn’t packed, the people around us were all murmuring contentedly about how impressed they were with the food. I’ve got a feeling The Light of Gurkha is going to become our regular curry house and am excited about them guiding me through the world of Nepalese food.

The Light of Gurkha,
88 Balham High Road,
SW12 9AG,
02086734160

The Company Shed, West Mersea

We arrived at The Company Shed in West Mersea at 11.30am on a bright but cloudy Saturday, having managed to navigate our way across the tidal pass. We were immediately struck by the “other-worldly” feel of the island – every other house seemed to be either having a yard sale or was a boat that had got lost and decided it preferred a less nautical life.

We put our names down on the list and waited with an assortment of grannies and fellow piscine tourists. We waited for an hour and a half as elderly women pushed past us and hyperactive tourists tried to queue jump. I couldn’t stand the tense atmosphere so left Cowie to stand firm as I went snooping around the back where they boil the lobsters and crab. My chat with the crab boiler was quite revealing.

I had, naively, assumed that all the seafood was fiercely local. So when I heard that the razor clams and scallops are from Scotland, the mussels are from New Zealand, the prawns are from India and Madagascar, the crabs are from Devon and the lobsters are often from Canada I was, to put it mildly, surprised. The fish is all local, as are the oysters. I was given a guided tour of their lobster tanks and marvelled at the iridescent blue coat of the English lobsters which made the Canadian imposters seem very drab in their brown jackets.

Another half an hour past before Cowie led the charge. Tired of seeing groups of four pushing past us we commandeered our table and watched the group who tried to leapfrog us weasel off with their tales between your legs. We did the honourable thing and ordered as much seafood as our formica covered table could hold. It required us to jettison the water, wine and salad to the floor in order to make space for the good stuff.

Our seafood platter for four was sensational. Whelks, prawns with their shells on and off, langoustine, crab and green lipped mussels adorned our table.

The crab was particularly good. Sweet, meaty and full of depth – it was majestic. And only let down by the mayonnaise which, whilst not being bad, didn’t cut the mustard. We longed for the rich, yellow gunge that the savvy table next door had brought along – our fault for not being prepared.

A plate of gigas rock oysters from Richard Haward’s oyster beds caused a stir. Anna had only ever had one oyster before and Edwin has a passionate hatred of them, for no other reason than he has never eaten them before. Anna devoured her second ever oyster with enough gusto to convince Edwin to have a crack too. But judging by the look of shock and disgust on his face, he is unlikely to come back for more. Which is good news for the rest of us! They were creamy and tasted unmistakably of the sea. Natives, rather than rocks, are served when the orbs are aligned.

We shared half of an English lobster which was so amazing it almost made me stand up and shout “Bravo! Encore!” Thank God I didn’t. Not only would it have been one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, but it would have also added £14 to our bill! But seafood this good has narcotic powers.

Tangerine, orange smoked salmon and less garish smoked mackerel were decent, but not in the same league as their shelled cousins.

A bowl of poor man’s asparagus was sensational. It added texture, seasoning and colour to our mixture of browns, beige and pink. On our pre-lunch, time killing seaside walk, we had spotted well grazed samphire plants sitting in pools of salty mud. It was a joy to tuck into something so local.

We loved our lunch – even more so because it only cost us £60. The atmosphere was fun and informal. And the seafood was deliciously un-messed around. Malden sea salt was at home in it’s natural hunting ground, but, sadly, powdered black pepper and bland mayonnaise didn’t do the fish justice.

I arrived thinking that all the fish and seafood was going to be from local waters but the fact that it isn’t seems odd. I can’t help feeling that seaside seafood sheds should be serving the stuff they’ve just caught, rather than flying it in from far flung corners of the world. Maybe this is very naive on my part. It’s not going to stop us returning, armed with our own pepper mill, some fresh mayonnaise and a jar of shallot vinegar.

129 Coast Road
West Mersea
Essex
Tel 01206 382700

Spooning with Rosie – Book Launch

Brixton was at its best on Saturday. Buzzing with energy. Warm. Optimistic. And full of cheer. The market was bustling and Franco Manca had a queue the length of a how long I imagine a piece of string is. Wild Caper was overflowing with people and the sound track to Pretty Woman was blaring out of the hair dresser opposite the butcher on Electric Lane.

We pottered into Rosie’s not knowing quite what to expect from the launch of Spooning with Rosie and settled down outside with a cup of tea and an espresso and realised that the world is a pretty cool place. We’d arrived just as Rosie, her Mum and the rest of her team were busy getting everything ready. So we landed up helping out by moving a few tables and chairs which just added to the charm.

Just as I was draining my coffee a cool looking woman with short dark hair wheeled along what looked like an old granny trolley and proceeded to set up a one man DJ stand playing the perfect Brixton book launch soundtrack.

We bought a book from Rosie’s Mum and were delighted that Rosie signed it.

Apart from the fact that it’s got one of the best titles ever to adorn a book, it’s full of brilliant recipes that are loved by the locals who adore Rosie’s Delic Cafe. What I love about it is the fact that it is clearly such a labour of love. It completely reflects Rosie’s personality and is a joy to read. I’ve also falled head over heals for the illustraions and love the fact that it is based in Brixton. Favourite recipes include scrambled eggs with chilli sauce and all sorts of delicious risottos, pies and sandwiches. I’ve got my eye on quite a few recipes to try out. It’s also inspired me to want to write a book.

We spent ages chatting, nibbling on incredible sandwiches made with ciabatta baked in Franco Manca’s ovens and gorging ourseves on cupcakes. It’s a brilliant place that is full of warmth and creativity. If you can show me a cafe that’s better, I’d love to see it.

Rosie’s website
Rosie’s blog
Rosie on Twitter
Spooing with Rosie on Amazon

Harwood Arms, Fulham

Tucked a safe distance behind Fulham Broadway, is a pub that serves outstanding food, that goes by the name of the Harwood Arms. It’s reputation for serving the Capital’s finest scotch egg was enough bait to lure me in from South of the river. Lizzie, Chris and Helen tipped me off about these eggy bundles of joy, so I pre-ordered some when I reserved our table. Just to make sure!

From the moment we arrived, we felt at home. The service was slick and the surroundings were smart but relaxed. The Harwood Arms strikes a great balance between creating the warm atmosphere of a pub, but with the overall style and professionalism of a restaurant. The Holy Grail for any gastropub. Given that the mantra of the Harwood Arms is to bring the country to the city it is no wonder that 3 country bumpkins living in London liked it so much!

We tucked into our venison scotch egg like hyenas at Easter who’d given up eating deer Lent. Yolk dripped across my face and slurped over my hands as I failed to put into words just how amazing that moment was. Cowie and my Sister were equally impressed. So much so that I only got a sixth of a Scotch egg! I mopped up the remains with some of the best bread I’ve gobbled down in ages.

My starter picked up from where the pre-starter had left off. A wooden platter of soft boiled pheasant eggs served on toast with mushrooms had me yelping in appreciation. The crunchy toast and earthy mushrooms were a perfect match. I loved it, but on reflection, it could have done with a bit of sharpness to balance the mellow glossiness.

Poached salmon was rudely pink and criminally tasty. Almost ripe with flavour. It was impossibly attractive.

Spurred on by the joy of our earlier scotch egg, my sister followed this up with a limited edition, black pudding scotch egg that was served with some cold asparagus that was supposed to be hot. But, when the black pudding scotch egg is this good, they could have served it with a used condom and I’d have been happy!

Having wowed us with the starters, we were worried the kitchen would struggle to outdo itself with the mains. But we needn’t have been. My grilled deer with bay, garlic potatoes and horseradish and beetroot spread was a dish that I’d happily have every day of the week. The meat was soft, charred and punctuated by the deicate flavour of bay that it had been skewered with. The beetroot and horseradish sauce was so good that Cowie annexed it to go with her cod! Garlic potatoes were upstaged dramatically.

Cowie’s cod was delicious. Topped with potted shrimp and some garnished with sea greens it couldn’t have been a lot better. But I just hope it was sourced from somewhere that isn’t running out of cod.

My sister devoured her ray like there was no tomorrow. My little mouthful was far more citrus than I was expecting. Which was no bad thing. The only criticism would be the size of the portion. But then again none of us left feeling hungry and we couldn’t find room for dessert!

The Harwood Arms is a top class gastropub, serving the sort of menu where you’d happily eat everything on it 7 days a week. The menu doesn’t just pay lip service to seasonality and provenance, it genuinely lives and breathes it as you’ll see by the way the menu changes when their larder AKA the countryside is having a glut. Look out for signal crayfish hitting their menu soon for instance. When you visit, which you must, just make sure you don’t miss out on the scotch eggs. They are worthy of an entire page in the Dorling Kindersley Guide to London.