Riverford Farm, Kitley, Nr. Plymouth, Devon

My tummy was grumbling. I was in a bad mood. (The two are rarely unlinked). The rain was saturating the whole of Devon with the view to the North giving me nightmares that the Baskerville’s psychopathic guard dog might attack us. As we zoomed past Plymouth, on our way to Salcombe from Fowey, I secretly prayed for a decent lunch. Moments later, out of the dismal gloom, emerged an outpost of Riverford Organcs. Look no further than this for proof of the existence of a greater being.

We’ve been to the Riverford Organics HQ before now and had a quite brilliant day out. The food was all fresh, organic, vibrant and very memorable. It was an experience that opened my mind to the amazing things you can do with vegetables. It made me realize that they needn’t be an afterthought. If you can get your hands on their cookery book, you won’t go far wrong either.

Walking into their garden centre-esque shed we were bowled over that such an unassuming façade could be home to such a gourmet wonderland. They’ve got a butcher, cheesemonger, deli, bakery, café and an array of interesting wines on top of the produce that is sourced from their farm.

Overwhelmed by choice, I pointed at a stuffed pepper and a frittata to keep my increasingly noisy stomach quiet. The pepper was sweet and smoky and filled with a very mild lamb korma mixed through with rice and raisins. It was utterly delicious and has now found its way onto my “will cook for dinner” short-list.

The frittata wasn’t such an enormous success. In contrast with the stuffed pepper, it was very bland. Some aggressive seasoning helped. I shouldn’t have asked for it cold… but then again I have an aversion to micro-waved egg dishes! I should have chosen something more manly, such as one of their incredible pork pies, scotch eggs or something on a slice of toasted sourdough. Or maybe even their Devon rarebit that’s made with cider instead of beer.

Next time we’re in the area we’re going to build a pit stop here into our plan. I’m already dreaming of tucking into one of their fully loaded breakfasts whilst reading all the papers and then picking up some top notch provisions to add some fun to our campsite cooking.

They say their aim is “to create a vibrant, informative, hassle-free, fresh local food emporium” and they’ve certainly managed that! If only every town had one.

Riverford Farm Shop – Kitley
Kitley
Yealmpton,
Devon
PL8 2LT

This is part of a series about our trip around the South West.

A Very Wild Caper, Brixton

Brixton is blessed. Not only have Giuseppe Mascoli and Bridget Hugo opened the best pizza palace in London in Brixton, but they have also brought joy to the heart of South London with a fantastic little organic café/deli called Wild Caper.

Feeling peckish, I went for a walk through Brixton Market and found myself marveling at how busy Franco Manca was. A friendly crowd gorged themselves on heavenly pizza and glasses of yellow lemon syrup. It took all my mental strength to resist settling down and ordering a spot of lunch.

A sign for the Brixton Fish Market dragged me further into the alleyway, luring me towards some interesting little stalls and shops. I walked past an intriguingly anonymous café and had a double take. Something about it had caught my attention. And I haven’t got a clue what it was. See for yourself…

Inside I was greeted with impeccable organic produce and charming staff. The first thing I spotted were some lovely chanterelle mushrooms, that Rosie from the café around the corner has mentioned on her café’s blog. Then my attention was caught by the organic wine selection. I busily checked my change and worked out how much pocket money I had to spend! I selected an organic bottle of red wine called Diogene which is the house red at Franco Manca down the street. It should make a good impromptu Christmas present.

Then I found my left hand had grabbed a pack of brown paper with the number 2.70 cryptically written in black marker pen. I looked down at the label and realized that I had grabbed hold of a pack of organic garlic, fennel and pork sausages. Lunch. It was strange because I had no control over my hands at all. It was like I was being controlled by someone else with a remote control. My next movement was to lunge towards the small bread counter. The assistant explained that all their bread is baked from organic sourdough in Franco Manca’s pizza ovens up the alleyway. I plucked a baguette from the stand and paid up.

It’s a very curious shop. It’s the dimensions of a medium sized bedroom and was staffed by 3 or 4 people despite me being the only customer. It has been in existence for 2 months and boasts an olive oil urn, some fantastic fresh herbs, organic veg, an interesting organic wine collection, proper spices and salt, amazing sourdough bread, a small café serving soup and home made pasta from their pasta counter and a small but top quality range of fresh organic produce. Apparently they also serve very good Monmouth coffee.

I took my goodies home and made THE BEST EVER sausage sandwich for lunch. I’m not going to patronise/bore anyone with how I cooked it etc. but this is what it looked like.

I wasn’t really prepared to have a sausage epiphany. But I guess you have them when you are least expecting them. This was no ordinary sausage. Somewhere, in the ozone above Greece, in the depths of Plato’s Platonic forms, sits a sausage. And it should be ashamed of itself because it is an impostor. The truly perfect sausage is to be found at Wild Caper. Inside the casing hid bite sized chunks of beautifully tender pork, accompanied by slithers of garlic and hints of fennel seed. The bread was tangy, smelling slightly of hay – the texture was ideal for a posh hot dog. I am gobsmacked and greedily keen for a return visit.

The return visit didn’t take too long. I returned the next day, drawn in by an enormous magnet. I was in desparate need of lunch. Unfortunately, they had run out of soup, so I opted for some pasta, sauce and some olives to take back home. It may sound quite humble. But it was sensational.

I got chatting to a South African lady who I think was Bridget who explained the vision behind the business. My googling of Bridget has thrown up lots of interesting leads – it seems she is a singer, artist, activist and restaurateur – either she is like a modern Leonardo Da Vinci or there’s more than one South African “Bridget Hugo” in Brixton. Her passion and generosity were tangible. I was offered a chunk of amazing nougat to make amends for the lack of soup. I raved about their sausages – proclaiming them to be the best I have ever have. They were horrified that I had roasted my sausage rather than poached it like I should have!

And then Guiseppe Mascoli arrived wielding a pepperoni pizza from Franco Manca and very kindly handed me a slice. I could have stayed there all afternoon, chatting and eating gorgeous freebies. But I had my pasta and sauce to attend to.

My penne pasta with tomato sauce could not have been more simple or more perfect. I found myself drinking the left over cold, sauce straight from the container. Seriously good. Would make a perfect Bloody Mary.

It seems that Wild Caper has already caused quite a stir – on Urban Path there is a 5 page thread debating the merits and downsides of Wild Caper. In fact some of it is pretty heated. I won’t even attempt to paraphrase it here – just read the banter for yourself! It cuts to the very core of Brixton’s yuppification. One of the main criticisms is Wild Caper’s high prices – but I happen to think that it is very good value when you consider the quality of the produce. It’s best I’ve found in Brixton so far.

Thank you Giuseppe Mascoli and Bridget Hugo. I can’t wait to see how Wild Caper evolves and to see what you pull out of your hat next.

Books for Cooks, Notting Hill

I’ve been gagging to visit Books for Cooks for ages. I stumbled across a reference to London’s premiere cooking book shop in Olive magazine around 6 months ago and have been looking for a window of opportunity to investigate…

It’s just off Portobello Road, surrounded by cool cofee shops, market stalls, spice emporiums, lingerie shops and the Electric Cinema. You will seriously struggle not to find what you are looking for. I was gobsmacked by the range of cook books they had and could have bought pretty much half the shop! I held myself back and walked away with a list of books to buy on Amazon and a paperback copy of Anthony Bourdain’s “Nasty Bits” for the tube ride home.

The books I’m keen to get my hands on are AA Gill’s Table Talk, Herve This’s Kitchen Mysteries and a book on game by Clarissa Dickinson Wright. The assistants couldn’t have been more helpful. They were experts and sussed out what I’d be interested in within a minute. Whilst Amazon’s “other customers liked” style recommendation is good, it’s not a patch on the service you get in Books for Cooks.

But it’s not just an amazing bookshop. It’s also a cafe and cooking workshop. There was a queue through the store to the cafe at the back where they were serving delicious looking mushroom soup and pumpkin tarts.

I’ve looked through the list of workshops and am pretty keen on this one:

“Recipes from Moro with Sam and Samantha Clark

We are delighted to welcome back the chef-patrons of award-wining Moorish restaurant Moro! Do come and experience their passion for the food of Spain and the Muslim Mediterranean at first hand and take home a collection of their always exquisite and inspirational recipes.”

I’ve just bought Moro East so it would be a perfect way to get the most out of it.

Glorious Saturday Steak

Woke up very late on Saturday morning, exhausted after yet another arduous week. Getting home on a Friday night at 10.30 is never fun and seems to happen too often these days. My stomach felt a bit dicey after my second lamb shish in two days! By 12 it was time to face the day. Super 14 rugby and some left over chips from last night kept me company on the sofa.

I made my way to the fridge in the vauge hope of finding something edible for breakfast. 2 sticky, over defrosted pheasants dominated in terms of space and smell! Bin for them. It makes me really cross to defrost food in advance and then have to throw it away because I haven’t been at home to eat it! Such is life when you’re starting out in a career I guess. 2 dubious eggs, half a dozen continental sausages, some onions and cheese leant themselves to whipping up a tremendous rendition of mexican scrambled eggs. A touch of smoked paprika and some chilli cut through my morning sloth! What they wanted for in terms of appearance they more than made up for with their flavour and spicy impact!

Simon and Andrew found me in my pants and tshirt dawdling on the couch when the came back from some early morning common action. On such an immense day of sport we decided to visit the Northcotte Road for some lunch. We went down the road for a sandwich and came back with a huge hunk of rump steak from Hennessy’s, a poppy seed loaf from the Lighthouse and 3 enormous brownies and some shallots from the market!

I super heated the griddle pan, salted and oiled the steaks and trimmed the fat off. I added some extra salt to the fat, put a few sharp grooves in at and threw it in the pan to crisp up. As the fat started to sizzle we lobbed the shallots and mushrooms in the other pan and let them cook down to a sweet brown mush. In went the steaks for about 5 minutes on each side until the outsides were griddled with regular brown stripes and the centres were warm but pink. I added some balsamic to the onions and sliced the steak on an angle and loaded the heaving hunks of black and blue meat onto the buttered poppy seed break and spooned on the onions and mushrooms. And o my god it was amazing. Juicy. Salty. Sweet. And utterly delicious. Well done Hennessy’s.

Next up is a BBQ at Rad’s tonight.

Photos from Google and Flickr.