Argentina: Buen Ayre

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

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

"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!