The Bahamas: Conch Fest

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

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

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

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

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

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

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