Three Choirs Vineyard

An English vineyard in February? Well, don't be surprised given all this talk about climate change. These days there is much to be said for the oenological advances in Blighty, which could be very due to the weather.

Despite the feathery drizzle, one could almost imagine France with the undulating grounds of the Three Choirs Vineyard. It is the largest vineyard in Gloucestershire, amongst 500 others. You heard that right first time, there are about 500 vineyards in the county alone. Like many others, Three Choirs began from one acre, today now at an impressive 75.

I'd "Adopted a Vine" for the Boy's birthday last year, intending for a summer seance and ending up having to rush and use it up before it expired. The experience included a tour of the grounds, a two course lunch at the restaurant with wine and coffee, "toasting" the adopted vine with sparkling wine, a flight of 5 Three Choirs and 2 bottles to take home! It's more than worth the trip down and makes for a super fun day out.

We yielded to our rumbling tums (2 hours on the train from Paddington gives you the rumblies) and went straight into lunch. Our shared starter of a Baked Camembert with a Beetroot Chutney fooled us with its simple outside. Pure molten deliciousness, and a surprise kick of star anise from the beetroot worked like a charm.

A perfect oozy moment!

On the mains front, was straightforward classic food cooked very well. Not a place for swooshes and tricks but that's not what they are trying to do. My sea bream with a balsamic rocket salad and chive sauce was fresh, very moist and of generous portion.

Salmon with pureed potatoes with more chive sauce was a little bit simpler, and again textbook cooked to perfection.

Whilst the food may have appeared simple, it paired very nicely with the Coleridge Hills 2009 which was a crisp, dry white, with elderflower notes. Definitely an excellent match for our fish courses and for gentle afternoon sipping. All of Three Choirs wines retail only in the UK, at their winery itself, and at Waitrose and Tesco's.

Desserts are the very prim and proper English kind, we shared a very grainy but moist cherry and almond tart, served with vanilla ice cream and raspberry sauce. Lovely.

And after two glasses of sparkling wine later, we had another 5 wines each from the winery to taste. We chose from a list of about 15 wines, divided into Dry, Medium Dry and Medium, including ales and cider made from their sister brewery, Whittingtons.

Forgive me for not making detailed tasting notes of all the wines we had (my motor skills were just a little frazzled from the tipples), though I remember really enjoying mainly the whites (Three Choirs makes them from German grapes, then growing them locally) and thinking the roses were far too strawberried and sweet for my liking. Sadly there were no reds to try, owing to a recent bad harvest.

We were then taken on a tour of the grounds and wine production area, by an excellent tour guide who gave a thorough run through of their processes, methods and offerings. Sparkling wine continues to be their flagship item, having a dry, cider note to it.

Head down to Gloucestershire and be charmed by the rolling hills and interesting produce this county has to offer. It must be absolutely stunning in the summer, so fingers crossed for a sizzler this year! An "Adopt a vine" experience is just under GBP 90, covers two people and I would highly recommend this for a romantic day or weekend out. If heading out from London, the easiest way to get there is a train from Paddington to Gloucester train station, and then a taxi to the venue. Or in a convertible in summer. Chin chin!

The Junction Tavern

I rarely go to a pub on Sunday if it's not for a Sunday Roast, but I could be swayed if there was more food like this.

Speaking of rare occurrences, I don't usually frequent Kentish Town despite being four minutes away by train.    The Junction Tavern has given me a new reason and inspiration. The Pork Belly was bursting with ambrosial piggyness, cushioned by floaty mash and accompanied by a bean casserole that had spice and stewed goodness.

For some reason I was craving fish and chips, and was initially disappointed when this wasn't on the menu. Well, there was no real need for it to be there, and otherwise I wouldn't have discovered these plump and hearty Smoked Haddock Fishcakes. Their rotundness made me gaze in adoration. And those were good fishcakes, nice ratio of smoky fish with potato cake. It's chunky tartare sauce was neither overloaded with capers nor too creamy. 

And what a Sticky Toffee Pudding to remember. I can't remember a time before when the top and bottom of a Sticky Toffee was still crisp from the oven, whilst every moist crumb in the middle soaked up a glossy toffee sauce like a mother clasping a child to her bosom. This was the absolute business. To bring us all the way to heaven was a rum and raisin ice cream, why have we always been eating this with plain vanilla?!

This is what Sundays are all about. A carefree amble to eat homemade food cooked with pride, and a buzzing ambience amidst engaged customers and an open kitchen to see the action. The service is seamless, they weave in and out without much fuss and with much efficiency. For two mains, one dessert, and several drinks, it was circa £23 per head. To call it a destination pub might be a tall order, but local residents should delight. And let's not forget the Sticky Toffee Pudding....

The Alliance

I hate to blog-and-run, but my dear ol' Dad has just arrived at Heathrow from Kuala Lumpur and I'm off to pick him up! And just before, I have a small minute to report back on a notable Sunday Roast I had at The Alliance, one of our many locals in West Hampstead..

With blatant outrightness, The Alliance is an Old Man's Pub with no frills or thrills. The only reason the Boy frequents this blast from the past is because they show the footie on Sky.

How-ever!

The above picture is my witness to a very decent Roast Leg of Lamb, accompanied by parsnips, carrots, potatoes, cabbage, broccoli, green beans, carrot puree (bonus!), all crowned with a homemade Yorkshire Pudding. Oh my!

Succulent lamb, and deep gravy. Could it be bordering gastro-pub?! Gasp, what a thought. I certainly rate the carrot puree on gastro standards for it's sweet, buttery and mash-potato-consistency. Potatoes have crunchy skin and yield nicely with a soft nudge. And that Yorkshire is rather passable, with a crackly top and soft inside.

Don't judge a pub by it's cover. For £9.90 on average for a well-cooked and handsome looking roast, I can deal with the grandpa sweaters. 

Towpath

Trendoids ahoy! I know where you all gather and nurse those Saturday night hangovers!

Towpath has been a long exalted mecca for brunch-lovers who flock to the East for a bit of Sunday relaxation. Located on the side of Regent's Canal, in Dalston, it is practically a hole in the wall. OK, ok, a very painfully fashionable hole in the wall, I hear you wayfarer-wearers cry. Between the yummy mummys, the boys with the half-shaven-half-quiffed hair and the girls with bright red lipstick a la Dita Von Teese, is a slick little operation that doesn't offer the most extensive menu, but definitely a very good one. Best friend M and I explored this joint...

 Distressed, eclectic, and with a vintage wash: the East End look du jour that gets punters from neighbouring areas to spend their Sunday morning watching the world go by...

 Here, here, a bit of inspiration on a blackboard is always welcome.

Nice to know what's always on the "menu"!

 Exercise? What's that?

And smell the coffee. It was rich, slightly foamy and had that much welcomed caffeine hit. 

Now here was me thinking that Towpath was all style and no substance, until this beauty comes along. It just went by the name of "Cheese Toastie" but was so much more. Sandwiched between two heavily buttered slices of sourdough, was a nutty cheese (perhaps gruyere or emmenthal?), dotted with spring onion. Who can resist a bit of melt with a pungent hit of onion? Certainly not me.

And to quench our thirst (toasties can be salty!), we decided on a lemonade and rice cake. I'm a big fan of juice with pulp, "chewing" on a drink is a small quirk of mine! The rice cake was very much rice pudding in muffin format - falling apart upon first bite, and delicately sweet and custardy.


Some rules to observe when visiting Towpath: 1) Vintage/street/designer-that-doesn't-look-designer is the name of the fashion game here. And you have to have an iPhone. Otherwise you can't possibly send GPS directions asking your other impeccably dressed friends to come. 2) Whilst the food is very good, we're talking fashionable prices too. It was £10 a head for a cheese toastie, coffee, lemonade and half a rice cake each. 3) When it's a fab day, you could spend all day there. Bring the Sunday papers, and catch up amidst canal life. Now pass me those Ray-Bans.

Towpath on Urbanspoon

An Ode to Toad in the Hole

As a non-native to London or indeed the UK, these recent wet and darker days don't do alot for the morale. I trawl the wardrobe for tights, scarves, waterproofs and jumpers whilst sniffling slightly as I say goodbye to those bright blue Havaianas that took me through this tremendous summer. Oh woe!

But when one season closes, another one opens. My silver lining to umbrella season is it's time for Sunday Roasts, hefty lasagnes, wholesome curries and all those comfort foods that distract from the cold outside. I don't necessarily eat out less, I just savour the time even more when I can stay indoors and pour my efforts into chunky, autumnal dishes.

So here's the scene. Saturday night in with the boy and we've already cracked open a bottle of red. Cue the bottle of Greek (yes Greek!) red...

We had bought this heady, spicy and smoky Gerovassiliou about 3 years ago and decided the time had come to honour it. It required a food partner that was equally voluptuous and perhaps slightly salty to meet the spice. Something to soak in the punch. It could only be something wanton like a Toad in the Hole!

Toad in the Hole is one of those quintessentially humble English dishes that has recently been blessed with some reinvention. Though considered rather stodgy and cursed with a completely uncharismatic name, this classic is one which can be pleasantly gentrified when given the right touch. Rather easy to make, the dish is assembled by placing sausages in batter, and whacked into a hot oven. The batter then swells and rises like a mighty Yorkshire Pudding. Armed with a Nigel Slater recipe, I was determined to take this baby to great heights!

And did this baby rise to the occasion! Puffalicious perfection, if I do say do myself! The secret in getting those cavernous highs is the age-old one, make sure the tray in which the batter will go into has smoking hot oil. When the batter hits the oil, you should hear a gentle sizzle and the edges should start bubbling.

I imagine being a little ant climbing up and down those savoury undulations!

And tumbling into squidgy pockets where the batter is still a soft and welcome casing to the hearty sausages..

Add a bold, dark green vegetable like cavolo nero for contrast, drown with lots of gravy and this is bliss!

I know this post sounds incredibly narcissistic, me going on about my own cookery; it's really a tribute to this underdog of British cuisine. And I would be nowhere without Nigel's trusted recipe. If I may offer some of my own tips: 1) Smoking Hot. I can't say it enough for the oil. Goose fat with it's high smoking point will get you there. 2) You don't have to use bacon to wrap the sausages like Nigel does, but it does pay to take off the skins. This means the batter doesn't slip off those lovelies. 3) Brown the sausages and use it's juices to make the gravy. If you saute some onions in the same pan as the sausages, when soft, add some diced cox apple. Play off the pork-and-apple partnership and add stock, reduce and voila you'll have a delicious gravy. Boo to the upcoming winter blues!

The Albion

There's always a reason for Red-Wine-O'Clock. This time it was to bring friends CL & M visiting from Adelaide to a cosy Sunday lunch. Erm, maybe dinner.

The Albion in Islington is buried amongst a leafy neighbourhood, surrounded by grand houses and away from the hoi polloi of Upper Street. A Georgian house, it's spacious and feels as if you're exploring a large abode as you walk through its chambers. There is a large enough outside area which in summer must be a treat to sit in. I was hoping we could have still caught the Sunday Roast menu but they stop at 4pm. So nevermind, the dinner menu was still delightful..

Roast Chicken with Girolles, New Potatoes in a Red Wine Jus: Chicken is always a debatable item on a menu, most think it's a cop-out from restaurants seeing as it's an ingredient which is easily obtained and can be cooked with kid gloves on. Au contraire. Something that is easily cooked is not necessarily well cooked. The chicken was well seasoned, moist, and comforting. Earthy mushrooms like girolles which are now in season are such a great partner to a juicy chicken leg. The red wine jus was of perfect consistency and depth.

Roast duck, Red Cabbage and Potato Fondant: Doesn't that duck leg just call your name over and over again? Fantastically crispy skin pulled aside so easily, to reveal dark meat that collapsed without any fuss. The red cabbage was sour, rich and slightly flavoured with cinnamon spice. Sadly, the dish was let down by an undercooked potato fondant. Where was my fluffy inside sealed by a crunchy coating? Alas, I had to pinch some triple-cooked chips from a friend!

Admittedly, slightly strange to include a random side dish but this beetroot salad was fresh and well flavoured by a parsley-herby-dressing. And did I say Red-Wine-O'Clock? Just about caught the medium Chianti we had with the meal in the piccie.

Sticky Toffee Pudding with Ice Cream: Dessert-O'Clock already! I was in a dilemma with this one. The pudding had a lovely, fluffy texture, but if the clue was in the name, sticky it was not. The sauce was a smooth and luxurious butterscotch which welcomed the ice cream and the little crumble underneath with open arms.

Cambridge Burnt Cream: hmmmm, not a fan I'm afraid. Loved the custardy taste, but overall I felt mislead. Surely the name suggests an English take on the archetypal French creme brulee? Creme brulee, Burnt Cream? And why attempt to caramelise the top when it's too soft, denying the customer the pleasure of cracking it?

Apple and Blackberry Sponge: Sumptuous. Spongy and soft fruity topping that gave way to a crusty bottom and nicely accompanied by custard.

Bakewell Tart: Now that was baked-extremely-well. It was almost like a frangipane with the biscuity bite from the almonds. Apologies for the slightly rampaged picture, always a sign of a popular dessert!

A super venue for an atmospheric drink with friends, and clearly a good British menu. However, perhaps let down by the details. On the upper scale for price for a gastropub though remembering that this is the restaurant bit, rather than the pub. A meal for four, 2 courses each, 1 bottle of red, a couple of pre-dinner drinks was £30 a head. I am curious to explore the actual Sunday Roast menu, and would love to find an occasion to do the whole Suckling Pig! Islington, anyone?

Blueprint Cafe @ The Design Museum

How have I never been here?! On the second floor, attached to the Design Museum, I was treated to a romantic dinner (don't all be sick at once) by the boy. Flanked by the majestic Tower Bridge to the left and shiny Canary Wharf to the right, this is an impressive view to behold. With these top to floor windows, and being this close to the Thames, it's one of those "Yeah, I'm in London!" moments!

We loved the trendy but unpretentious feel, the restaurant was buzzing and full of good energy. There is a little balcony bar to the side of the main room which you can have a pre-dinner drink at, as well as drink in the view.

Let's get started. This was the Eel sandwich with picked onions: Eel was rather like mackerel here - salty, flaky and full of yummy unctuous fishiness. A harmonious ensemble of texture (crusty toast), flavour from the eel and contrast to the vinegary onions that cut through that oil wonderfully.

Squid, samphire and peas: Hello Samphire! This seasonal vegetable seems to be inseparable from any seafood partner. Rather than crunchy, the squid was actually soft and tender. Sweetness from the peas rounded off this original appetiser.

You should know me by now, I'm a big fan of generosity. We oohed over this whole sea bream which was grilled to perfect charred-dom, its luscious flesh only needing a squirt of lemon to create a small emulsion with the fish juices.

Onglet steak, watercress and creamed horseradish: Now I have a story to tell you here. It was the classic, almost comical, restaurant moment upon finding a bit of J-cloth in my salad. After a quick debate (which of us doesn't consider the complain-and-get-the food-spat-on conundrum?), I decide to take my chances. The waiter apologises immediately and whips away the offensive blue strip, offering to replace my salad with assurances that it is in no way harmful. Being halfway down my salad, you have to let some things go. Or at least I felt there was reason to this time...!

I suppose I could have thrown a critic-zilla moment but I had another problem. The steak was, pretty darn good. I couldn't really stop eating it. Onglet is a cut, popularised by the French, which only needs to be seared and eaten medium to medium rare. Too cooked and it gets too tough. This was done just right, seasoned just right and the creamy horseradish was a deliciously piquant companion.

And as textbook restaurant etiquette would have it, the same waiter offered our desserts for free due to our "distress"! And you know what, it worked. The efficiency by which it was dealt with, and with a courteous air, was much appreciated and my word, was a bonus considering the desserts we got. Each was presented in a gorgeous, little fashion and just so well done.

Above, Strawberry and Raspberry Shortcake: I cannot say enough for the crumbly, slightly savoury biscuit that sandwiched the cream and fruits within. It was as though a little parmesan cheese had been incorporated into the pastry. Simple, and wonderful.

Melon Sorbet: this picture does no justice to the highly underrated fruit that spawns this awesome sorbet. Sweet and succulent, one can imagine freshly picked melons went into this smooth and bursting-with-song icy treat.

My-oh-my! The boy did good! Sometimes I think great food is all about hitting those comfort spots, in that strong, robust and wholesome flavours always win. The food at the Blueprint cafe is full-on "good, honest, British",a prime example of how there are tremendous ingredients in this country, we just need to know how to use them. A meal (with complementary desserts) was £40 a head, including all those courses, and 2 glasses of wine each. Please go. It's one of this city's,  not hidden, but not as advertised secrets.