Florentine Food

A week in Florence (this was the view from our kitchen) entailed a number of interesting food experiences, which I will describe in more detail soon. The highlights were a tuscan beef stew with black peppercorns, osso bucco, wild boar papardelle, amazing focaccias, angry wafflemen, free limoncello shots, Grom gelati, prosciuto and olive bread and tomatoes from the market. Individual entries on all of these and more soon. And apologies for any terrible spelling mistakes in the above.

Baravin, Aberystwyth

I realise the picture here is not very appealing, making this very pleasant restaurant look as though its situated on the edge of a grim shopping complex somewhere in the east midlands, but if the camera was facing the other way you would see it has one of the best setting in the UK - on the promenade at Aberystwyth, with waves crashing juts a few feet from the door, and gorgeous sunsets sinking into the western horizon of the sea. Baravin means Bread and Wine, and the menu is very pizza and pasta orientated. But they are obviously of the school of thought that says there is no food that can't be improved by putting it on a pizza, because many of these pizzas resemble nothing you'll find in Sicilly or Tuscany. One is topped with shoulder of lamb, minted pesto and peas. Basically a sunday roast on a pizza. Another has bacon, black pudding, sausage and egg. Yes, breakfast on a pizza (where are the baked beans?) Another has duck and olives. Another prawns, laver bread and cockles. Inventive, patriotic and utterly indifferent to the heritage of the pizza. Never mind. I had to have the roast lamb one, thinking I might never have the chance again. It wasn't bad. The stonebaked bread base was excellent. What it lacked was enough sauce to bind everything together. The shreds of lamb and the peas rolled about as soon as you cut into the pizza, and everything fell off before it got to the mouth. The cockle and laver bread pizza looked very good. They extend their love of pizzas even to the dessert menu, which has a sweet pizza, topped with bananas and caramel. It's a fun place, and the service is great. It is proof that beyond the welsh border you never know quite what to expect from a plate of food.

Chines Beef Stew Revisited

A while back I wrote about a Chinese Beef Stew. The other night I made it again and it was just as nice as before, and this time I took a picture of the stew being cooked. This is late in the cooking process when the stew is nearly ready and the pak choi has just been added. To the left is the pan with the rice in, this time I was cooking the basmati rice in coconut milk, it went really nicely with it. At the top is the pan of sugar snap peas. Everything is about to come together to form one delicious meal. The other ring has serving bowls waiting to take the rice, and waring up in the hob. The ring beneath them isn't on, just the ambient temperature of the cooking area is enough to warm them up.

Two Dorset Fish and Chip Shops

Two Dorset Fish and Chip shops to share - one in Lyme Regis, a traditional take away called The Cobb Gate Fish Bar, busy and a bit expensive, and my wife reported that the service was sullen and unfriendly, but the fish and chips were excellent, though now that I've visited the other one in this review it hardly seems worth mentioning this rather ordinary little chippy because the Hive Beach Cafe, a few miles east along the coast at Burton Bradstock, offers perhaps the best fish and chips I've ever had. The cafe is right on the beach, and is quite small but with a large awning to house more diners under cover, and two terraces for use in the summer. It took about twenty minutes to queue and place order, but thereafter everything happened pretty quickly. We took our seats outside (because of dog) and were served within five minutes. It is the most expensive fish and chips on earth, probably, nearly £14, which meant that I had the only adult portion while wife and daughter were made to eat child's portions (£8). But the meal was good. The huge oblong of cod was coated in a herby batter, which broke open to reveal gleaming white succulent fish flesh. Chips were ok, as was the creamy mushy peas and tartare sauce. The kid's portions were pretty substantial as well. They do other nice looking fish dishes - fresh sardines, mackerel, and lots of other things which all looked good. They do breakfasts as well, until 11am. You can then walk it all off with a long clifftop walk in either direction, or if you're too tired stroll along the sands for as far as you want. The cliffs themselves are beauiful, sort of yellowy and worn away.

Koffee Pot

One of the nicest places to eat in Manchester, on Stevenson Square in the Northern Quarter. It was also the first place I ever ventured for something to eat when I first visited the city twenty odd years ago. In those days it was a slightly rougher-edged greasy spoon, I remember they served nice steak and kidney puddings, these days it's gone a little bit trendier along with the rest of the northern quarter, but still retains the greasy spoon charm and relaxed atmosphere while serving food that is a little more thoughtfully prepared than one would usually expect. For instance my cheeseburger and chips came with a greek salad and a dill pickle, and was all the better for it. Also does hefty black puddingy breakfasts and irish breakfasts, kippers on toast, that sort of thing. Great views out of window. Has probably taken over the role as Manchester's best greasy spoon, now that the John Dalton Cafe has gone.

Cheddar's cheddar

There are a number of excellent artisan cheesemakers in Somerset producing good Cheddar, but only one of these is based in Cheddar itself. The Cheddar Gorge Cheese Company occupies premises in the Gorge, tucked in amongst all the tourist tat shops, and is about the only place in the whole strip that sells anything worthwhile (how I miss those old mini cider flagons with 'oi've just come up from zummerzet' written on them that I remember from childhood). The CGCC goes to great lengths to be faithful to the original cheddar (which dates back to 1170, apparently) - they use milk from cows who've grazed the local pastures, and now they've begun cave-maturing their stronger varieties - yes, they've been stored in the famous cheddar caves, just as the medieval cheesemakers did. They claim it gives it a distinctly authentic flavour. We bought some of this cave-matured Cheddar today, a very rainy August afternoon, and it is very good, with the pineapply tang that is familiar in the best mature cheddar. Behind the shop you can visit the dairy itself, and watch the cheese being made, though now they seem to charge a small sum for this, I'm sure it was free the last time I came, a few years ago. But well worth a visit.

White Horse Inn , Woolstone, Wiltshire

The Uffington White Horse is probably the second most interesting chalk hill figure in Britain, after the rampant Cerne Abbas Giant. The disappointing thing about the white horse, however, is that it is very hard to see, except from above. Almost as if those crazy celts were designing something for the eyes of the gods only, and not for mere mortals to look at. What you get from the ground is a vague impression of limbs and tails, a swirling sense of a figure in motion. The white horse is impressionistic and suggestive in design, like something picasso might have daubed on a dish. But if you want to know what it looks like, wander down off the high hillside and into the village of Woolstone, where there is a very nice village pub called The White Horse and which has the complete design of the white horse on it's inn sign. So then you'll know. While you're there you might as well have a drink and something to eat. Their lunches finish at 2pm, but if you get there after two, they have wonderful bar snacks on offer, which consist of - scotch eggs, cheese-topped pork pie, and pork pie. All home made and each as big as a meal in itself. There were three of uis so we had one each. The scotch egg came with a dish of mustard, the yolk was slightly soft, but it was a perfect scotch egg, as were the pies. While we were there, the bar clintelle seemes to be mostly mechanics, who discussed the trials and tribulations of the mechanics' trade. We sat by a roaring log fire, eating our pies and scotch eggs, listening.