Here's a sentence I never thought I'd say. The finals week of Great British Menu is reminding me a lot of the Psychology course I did on the International Baccalaureate.
I've already said all I need to say about the show so far (in short: the brief is weird, the editing is weird, the chefs are pricks), but now it's finals week, and there's one element of finals week that I find absolutely fascinating.
In the regionals it's always a treat to see someone cook their little socks off, just for one of the judges (probably Oliver) to say 'Well, this isn't good enough. They clearly haven't tried at all'. Always makes me laugh. In finals week, though, it's not just the judges giving out scores, but the chefs too. And they don't sit round a table and discuss it, they splinter off into little groups. There's ususally about three or four separate groups all pronouncing their judgements independently of the others.
Now to psychology. In the fifties, Solomon Asch conducted studies into group conformity. In his initial experiment, one test subject was placed with a group of stooges. All were asked a simple visual question with an easy answer (pick which line is the longest, or something). The stooges all gave the wrong answer. Asch found that, after conducting the test a number of times, around 75% of people would give an incorrect answer at least once to conform with the group consensus, with 35% conforming at any one time. Asch then ran a number of follow ups, finding that conformity rates were highest with three stooges, while high group numbers actually lowered conformity. The presence of just one other person disagreeing with the group would lower conformity rates.
Back to the chefs. They're all off in their little groups, and you can actually see Asch's theories play out in front of you. Obviously here it's all subjective and there's no strictly right or wrong answer, but the cheeky editor is very keen on following one person saying 'This is really over seasoned', with that group nodding in agreement, with someone from another group saying 'The seasoning is perfect', with their group nodding in agreement. One person's strong opinion will sway the whole group - and these are people not short of confidence in their own opinion. Keep an eye on Colin and Emily. Emily is quite generous with her scores, and any group with her in will probably mark a dish highly. Bless Colin, but he is a little bitch, and will pull the scores down in his group. And just like Asch found, there's more disagreement when the group is larger. If I were a scientist, I would be positively aroused at the papers I could write on this.
Any psychologists reading this, maybe look into writing something on the practical applications of conformity theory in modern competitive cooking shows. But remember to reference me.
Showing posts with label Reviews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reviews. Show all posts
Wednesday, 4 June 2014
Saturday, 24 May 2014
Bristol Food Connections. With meat.
Look at all this meat. Look at it.
But we'll get to that in good time.
Bristol Food Connections, the city-wide food festival held a couple of weeks ago, was a great example of something Bristol does really well. I've always enjoyed how cultural Bristol can be, as it always seems to have something going on. Since the 2014 Food and Farming Awards moved down here this year, naturally we'd want a ten day long celebration of the producers and chefs of the south west to go along with that. That's obvious. But it wasn't just a few restaurant tie-ins and a market here and there - oh no. The BBC got involved, there were food talks and specialist evenings, and local restaurants did one-off meals in teepees. Yes, teepees. No, I don't know why. As someone who knows from organising, I'm impressed with the undertaking. Just think of how many emails they would have needed. The emails, man, think of the emails. Like, so many emails.
It would have been impossible to go to everything on offer, but I think I got the best of it by going to the city centre event right at the start of the festival. This was spread out over a quite a large area, but since the weather was nice I was happy to wander. I kicked off at the Slow Food Ark of Taste market at College Green, then moved down to the Love Food Producers Market and BBC @ Food Connections at Harbourside, and the Street Food market at Millenium Square.
This is where the meat comes in. Look at it again.
What we have here is a selection of cuts from The Lost Farm, specialising in forgotten and rare breeds of animal. This is all Manx Loaghton Produce, rare breed lamb with four horns. Funny looking chaps. Sometimes the horn number can go up to six, apparently. Six! That is too many horns. The meat is raised for a little longer and has less fat on it, and I'll let you know how it tastes when I write up what I've done with it (spoiler: good. It tastes good).
I got this haul from my very first stop at the Slow Food market. To be perfectly honest I had no intention of buying any meat, but I spotted a box with a '£1 a pack' sign, and, by law, I am obliged to look through anything that says that. The box had a fair amount of offal in it, which I'm not crazy about, but also some lamb neck. 'Excuse me', says I 'Is that right? A pound for this lamb neck?'. I was prepared for this to be an error, because there's no way you can get any sort of non-innards meat for a pound, let alone lamb neck from rare breed lamb with four to six flipping horns. But 'No!', says the lamb lady 'A pound a pack is right, and there's a box over here which is two pound a pack with even more cuts'. I went quiet at this point, as I saw that my trip to the market was going to go in a very different direction than I had anticipated.
I got down to business. I pulled out some neck, some lamb shanks, and while I was waiting for someone to bring more shanks from storage I browsed the offal, and threw in a pack of kidneys. As I said, I'm not a fan myself, but Pete likes 'em, and since they were only a pound I figured I'd treat him. To kidneys. A pound, though! Do you know what you can get for a pound these days? Diddly shit is what you can get for a pound these days. All told I spent £7, and came home with four shanks, two packs of neck (each with 4-5 joints in them), and the kidneys.
Now bear in mind, this was the very first stall in the very first market I had stopped at. I felt energised from a good business deal and set out to see the rest of the festival with renewed vigour, swinging my bag o' meat next to me. To be fair, I didn't buy too much else (some smoked trout pate, some cake. You know, the usual), but I did try a lot of things and had an excellent time doing so. The Caephilly from Caws Cenarth? Creamy and delicious! Dried seaweed used as a seasoning? Um, sure, I guess! Why yes, I would like to try some blood, wine and chocolate salami, thank you! It tastes weird! How delightful!
I didn't go to any of the ticketed events in the BBC section (where you could go see people from off the telly talk at you in real life), but I did enjoy wandering around their interactive bits. It was clearly designed for children in mind, like planting workshops, smell tests, milking a model cow, etc. It's just the sort of thing I would have loved doing as a kid myself, or as a fairly drunk adult. Like, a bit more than tipsy, but not falling over. Liiiightly smashed, that's about the level, I think. Yes. Perhaps a demographic the BBC would like to target next year.
I walked home at the end of the sunny afternoon having thoroughly enjoyed myself, with some bargains in the bag as well. Well played, Brizzle. Well played.
 |
| Much meat. Look. |
Bristol Food Connections, the city-wide food festival held a couple of weeks ago, was a great example of something Bristol does really well. I've always enjoyed how cultural Bristol can be, as it always seems to have something going on. Since the 2014 Food and Farming Awards moved down here this year, naturally we'd want a ten day long celebration of the producers and chefs of the south west to go along with that. That's obvious. But it wasn't just a few restaurant tie-ins and a market here and there - oh no. The BBC got involved, there were food talks and specialist evenings, and local restaurants did one-off meals in teepees. Yes, teepees. No, I don't know why. As someone who knows from organising, I'm impressed with the undertaking. Just think of how many emails they would have needed. The emails, man, think of the emails. Like, so many emails.
It would have been impossible to go to everything on offer, but I think I got the best of it by going to the city centre event right at the start of the festival. This was spread out over a quite a large area, but since the weather was nice I was happy to wander. I kicked off at the Slow Food Ark of Taste market at College Green, then moved down to the Love Food Producers Market and BBC @ Food Connections at Harbourside, and the Street Food market at Millenium Square.
This is where the meat comes in. Look at it again.
 |
| Same as before, but bears repeating. |
I got this haul from my very first stop at the Slow Food market. To be perfectly honest I had no intention of buying any meat, but I spotted a box with a '£1 a pack' sign, and, by law, I am obliged to look through anything that says that. The box had a fair amount of offal in it, which I'm not crazy about, but also some lamb neck. 'Excuse me', says I 'Is that right? A pound for this lamb neck?'. I was prepared for this to be an error, because there's no way you can get any sort of non-innards meat for a pound, let alone lamb neck from rare breed lamb with four to six flipping horns. But 'No!', says the lamb lady 'A pound a pack is right, and there's a box over here which is two pound a pack with even more cuts'. I went quiet at this point, as I saw that my trip to the market was going to go in a very different direction than I had anticipated.
I got down to business. I pulled out some neck, some lamb shanks, and while I was waiting for someone to bring more shanks from storage I browsed the offal, and threw in a pack of kidneys. As I said, I'm not a fan myself, but Pete likes 'em, and since they were only a pound I figured I'd treat him. To kidneys. A pound, though! Do you know what you can get for a pound these days? Diddly shit is what you can get for a pound these days. All told I spent £7, and came home with four shanks, two packs of neck (each with 4-5 joints in them), and the kidneys.
Now bear in mind, this was the very first stall in the very first market I had stopped at. I felt energised from a good business deal and set out to see the rest of the festival with renewed vigour, swinging my bag o' meat next to me. To be fair, I didn't buy too much else (some smoked trout pate, some cake. You know, the usual), but I did try a lot of things and had an excellent time doing so. The Caephilly from Caws Cenarth? Creamy and delicious! Dried seaweed used as a seasoning? Um, sure, I guess! Why yes, I would like to try some blood, wine and chocolate salami, thank you! It tastes weird! How delightful!
I didn't go to any of the ticketed events in the BBC section (where you could go see people from off the telly talk at you in real life), but I did enjoy wandering around their interactive bits. It was clearly designed for children in mind, like planting workshops, smell tests, milking a model cow, etc. It's just the sort of thing I would have loved doing as a kid myself, or as a fairly drunk adult. Like, a bit more than tipsy, but not falling over. Liiiightly smashed, that's about the level, I think. Yes. Perhaps a demographic the BBC would like to target next year.
I walked home at the end of the sunny afternoon having thoroughly enjoyed myself, with some bargains in the bag as well. Well played, Brizzle. Well played.
|
| Meat. |
Tuesday, 15 April 2014
A word on The Great British Menu
It's back. One of the few fun shows for all the family where there is 90% probability that any given person appearing on screen is an irredeemable prick.
Last year I really enjoyed my weekly review, pointing out my favourite dishes, who was the biggest prick, the judges comments, any drama caused by pricks, the winners and losers, and the least prickish prick*.
*There are very few genuinely sympathetic contestants, so it's not a question of someone being nice, just noticeably less prickish than the others
I still love the show, but from what I've seen in this first week I fear I would largely be repeating myself if I were to do the same thing again.
So the brief this year is for the chefs to create dishes that celebrate the veterans of D-Day, evoking a patriotic, 40's wartime spirit. OK. Sure. So far, so typical GBM. But if there was one thing we learnt from last year when the brief was to make 'comedy' food, it's that chefs Do. Not. Get. Tone. And telling a group of (how to put it?) pricks with no sense of tone to make something vaguely to do with war, seems pretty dicey to me. Example: last week, dull-eyed madman Ray made a starter of pigeon (homing pigeons, geddit?) with a note clutched in its claw (so clever!) that read something like 'Beach taken, casualties light'. And it went down a storm. They loved it. Does no one else find that unutterably tacky? To serve this to veterans, who may have used actual homing pigeons and who definitely saw actual casualties, no one else finds this kind of off? No one thinks that making the actual war that actually happened and people actually died in the 'theme' for a meal is a bit disrespectful? Yes, celebrate the veterans, sure, and good job too, but I can't see how making a dish based on someone's harrowing experiences is really the best way to celebrate them.
And that's before we even get to the dick swinging. Oh, lord, the dick swinging. I was obviously braced for it (overly aggressive competitiveness is, after all, a large part of the prickish sensibility), but factor in the brief and we've got whole new opportunities for self-aggrandisement. 'I'm doing it for the veterans', they say 'I really want to win this to honour their sacrifice'. The implicit meaning that these other chefs, they might just want to win for themselves, not like me, I want to win for the heroes, and doesn't that kind of make me a hero too? I might not mind it so much if it didn't so clearly reek of insincerity. But they aren't actors. They're chefs. And chefs Don't. Get. Tone.
There are still a lot of great things. Last week Tom Kerridge was delightfully encouraging and Marcus Wareing delightfully menacing. Despite some people's best endeavours, the cooking still looks inventive and fun. And my absolute favourite aspect of the show - the editing - is still provocatively incoherent. Any laughter is cut, making it look like no one can take a joke ever, and every sentence is met with a full minute of scowling. In the episode from Friday a shot of one chef climbing a hill in his hometown was immediately followed by a shot of the other chef arriving at the kitchen, giving the impression that they were both on their way to the studio but one took a wildly divergent route and got lost in the countryside. It was so weird that I got the giggles, and then I couldn't drink my wine because my hand was shaking from laughter, and then the fact that I was laughing at something so bizarre made me laugh even harder and I started to cry a bit and had to put my glass down. And then Pete was sitting next to me with such a weary yet patient expression waiting for me to explain why I was laughing for seemingly no reason at all that I got even worse and had a bit of a meltdown. It was the editing, Pete. The editing.
So this year I'm leaving all that behind. I'll watch it, and no doubt shout at the TV, but there's only so many times I can write 'But they're all such pricks!'. It's a lot, but there's a limit.
Last year I really enjoyed my weekly review, pointing out my favourite dishes, who was the biggest prick, the judges comments, any drama caused by pricks, the winners and losers, and the least prickish prick*.
*There are very few genuinely sympathetic contestants, so it's not a question of someone being nice, just noticeably less prickish than the others
I still love the show, but from what I've seen in this first week I fear I would largely be repeating myself if I were to do the same thing again.
So the brief this year is for the chefs to create dishes that celebrate the veterans of D-Day, evoking a patriotic, 40's wartime spirit. OK. Sure. So far, so typical GBM. But if there was one thing we learnt from last year when the brief was to make 'comedy' food, it's that chefs Do. Not. Get. Tone. And telling a group of (how to put it?) pricks with no sense of tone to make something vaguely to do with war, seems pretty dicey to me. Example: last week, dull-eyed madman Ray made a starter of pigeon (homing pigeons, geddit?) with a note clutched in its claw (so clever!) that read something like 'Beach taken, casualties light'. And it went down a storm. They loved it. Does no one else find that unutterably tacky? To serve this to veterans, who may have used actual homing pigeons and who definitely saw actual casualties, no one else finds this kind of off? No one thinks that making the actual war that actually happened and people actually died in the 'theme' for a meal is a bit disrespectful? Yes, celebrate the veterans, sure, and good job too, but I can't see how making a dish based on someone's harrowing experiences is really the best way to celebrate them.
And that's before we even get to the dick swinging. Oh, lord, the dick swinging. I was obviously braced for it (overly aggressive competitiveness is, after all, a large part of the prickish sensibility), but factor in the brief and we've got whole new opportunities for self-aggrandisement. 'I'm doing it for the veterans', they say 'I really want to win this to honour their sacrifice'. The implicit meaning that these other chefs, they might just want to win for themselves, not like me, I want to win for the heroes, and doesn't that kind of make me a hero too? I might not mind it so much if it didn't so clearly reek of insincerity. But they aren't actors. They're chefs. And chefs Don't. Get. Tone.
There are still a lot of great things. Last week Tom Kerridge was delightfully encouraging and Marcus Wareing delightfully menacing. Despite some people's best endeavours, the cooking still looks inventive and fun. And my absolute favourite aspect of the show - the editing - is still provocatively incoherent. Any laughter is cut, making it look like no one can take a joke ever, and every sentence is met with a full minute of scowling. In the episode from Friday a shot of one chef climbing a hill in his hometown was immediately followed by a shot of the other chef arriving at the kitchen, giving the impression that they were both on their way to the studio but one took a wildly divergent route and got lost in the countryside. It was so weird that I got the giggles, and then I couldn't drink my wine because my hand was shaking from laughter, and then the fact that I was laughing at something so bizarre made me laugh even harder and I started to cry a bit and had to put my glass down. And then Pete was sitting next to me with such a weary yet patient expression waiting for me to explain why I was laughing for seemingly no reason at all that I got even worse and had a bit of a meltdown. It was the editing, Pete. The editing.
So this year I'm leaving all that behind. I'll watch it, and no doubt shout at the TV, but there's only so many times I can write 'But they're all such pricks!'. It's a lot, but there's a limit.
Sunday, 15 September 2013
Dining Alone at Harvey Nichols
I'm not great at updating social media with all the changes in my life, so for those of you who know me I'll try to catch you up.
If the last thing you heard was that I was living in the Midlands, you're out of date: I moved to Bristol about a year ago, and I like it very much.
If the last thing you heard I was living in Bristol and going out of my mind looking for work, you're out of date: I found a job, and started working in Bath a couple of months ago.
If the last thing you heard I was working in Bath, you're out of date: just like bloody buses, you wait for ages for one then two turn up in quick succession. I start a new job in Bristol on Monday.
All of which means I am now ending a year of tumult, confusion, and oppressive 'free time'. The past couple of weeks I've been twiddling my thumbs a little, not quite knowing what to do with myself before I start the Next Big Chapter, so I decided to treat myself. I took myself to lunch at the Second Floor Restaurant at Harvey Nichols in Bristol.
I've never been for a fancy meal on my own before, so I did what I always do and put on an air of confidence that clearly said 'I do it this all the time, and what are you looking at, Mr Big Stuff?'. I was able to practice this beforehand by wandering around the make-up counters on the first floor looking for all the world like someone who would spend £25 on a single tube of lipstick, and definitely wasn't there to play with the testers then bugger off.
To their credit they hardly looked surprised at all when I asked for a table for one. The restaurant is spacious, with tall windows looking out over Quakers Friars and Cabot Circus, and decorated entirely in various shades of gold. The last time I was there the temperature was a shade too warm and the music had an intrusive thumping bass that made the whole atmosphere a bit weird and oppressive. This time the cooler temperature and far more agreeable Jazz standards being played meant the whole 'total gold' thing didn't feel nearly as aggressive as it did before.
I went for the Set Menu for September, which is a very reasonable £20 for three courses.
I started with a duck terrine, with a nicely dressed salad, thin, crisp bread and plum and ginger chutney. The duck was tender with decently sized chunks of meat, and each ingredient was exactly in the right proportion to the others. The chutney was pleasantly sweet, but I could have done with more of a gingery punch.
My main was slow cooked pork belly with rainbow chard and what the menu said was 'pickled apple puree' but turned out to be slices of apple poached in something like mulled wine. The portion was a little smaller than I was hoping, but I guess rich people don't eat much. The pork belly was delicious, but it is, as you know, a salty meat. The chard was earthy and well cooked, but a little oversalted. The sauce was rich and would have tied the whole dish together if it hadn't been slightly over reduced, leaving it a little salty. Salt was a theme, is what I'm saying. The three small slices of sweet apple were the only thing that saved the dish. It had clearly been made by someone who knew what they were doing, but took their eye off the ball where seasoning was concerned.
Pudding was a cider brandy parfait with 'apple and olive oil crisps'. The crisps turned out to be thin triangles of pastry, about the texture of a poppadom, sprinkled with cinnamon. I can't say I could discern either apple or olive oil, but they were very tasty nevertheless. Both the parfait and and the apple caramel it was served with were delicious - the highlight of the meal.
I'd be happy to recommend this place to anyone, and the set menu which varies month by month is excellent value, but the 'simple food cooked well' ethos doesn't allow much room for error, and I can't say this was error free.
I very much enjoyed my sole dining experience, although I did feel a little rushed. I guess the wait staff would usually wait for a lull in conversation before clearing plates, but since I was on my own (and the restaurant was largely empty), plates were cleared as soon as I was done and the next course brought out soon after. I barely had time to touch my bread rolls (which were clearly home made and very nice). I sat down at 2pm, and had finished my dessert by 2.40. I was hungry though, so I didn't mind too much.
So don't be put off eating on your own. Just bring something to read, and work up an appetite.
If the last thing you heard was that I was living in the Midlands, you're out of date: I moved to Bristol about a year ago, and I like it very much.
If the last thing you heard I was living in Bristol and going out of my mind looking for work, you're out of date: I found a job, and started working in Bath a couple of months ago.
If the last thing you heard I was working in Bath, you're out of date: just like bloody buses, you wait for ages for one then two turn up in quick succession. I start a new job in Bristol on Monday.
All of which means I am now ending a year of tumult, confusion, and oppressive 'free time'. The past couple of weeks I've been twiddling my thumbs a little, not quite knowing what to do with myself before I start the Next Big Chapter, so I decided to treat myself. I took myself to lunch at the Second Floor Restaurant at Harvey Nichols in Bristol.
I've never been for a fancy meal on my own before, so I did what I always do and put on an air of confidence that clearly said 'I do it this all the time, and what are you looking at, Mr Big Stuff?'. I was able to practice this beforehand by wandering around the make-up counters on the first floor looking for all the world like someone who would spend £25 on a single tube of lipstick, and definitely wasn't there to play with the testers then bugger off.
To their credit they hardly looked surprised at all when I asked for a table for one. The restaurant is spacious, with tall windows looking out over Quakers Friars and Cabot Circus, and decorated entirely in various shades of gold. The last time I was there the temperature was a shade too warm and the music had an intrusive thumping bass that made the whole atmosphere a bit weird and oppressive. This time the cooler temperature and far more agreeable Jazz standards being played meant the whole 'total gold' thing didn't feel nearly as aggressive as it did before.
I went for the Set Menu for September, which is a very reasonable £20 for three courses.
I started with a duck terrine, with a nicely dressed salad, thin, crisp bread and plum and ginger chutney. The duck was tender with decently sized chunks of meat, and each ingredient was exactly in the right proportion to the others. The chutney was pleasantly sweet, but I could have done with more of a gingery punch.
My main was slow cooked pork belly with rainbow chard and what the menu said was 'pickled apple puree' but turned out to be slices of apple poached in something like mulled wine. The portion was a little smaller than I was hoping, but I guess rich people don't eat much. The pork belly was delicious, but it is, as you know, a salty meat. The chard was earthy and well cooked, but a little oversalted. The sauce was rich and would have tied the whole dish together if it hadn't been slightly over reduced, leaving it a little salty. Salt was a theme, is what I'm saying. The three small slices of sweet apple were the only thing that saved the dish. It had clearly been made by someone who knew what they were doing, but took their eye off the ball where seasoning was concerned.
Pudding was a cider brandy parfait with 'apple and olive oil crisps'. The crisps turned out to be thin triangles of pastry, about the texture of a poppadom, sprinkled with cinnamon. I can't say I could discern either apple or olive oil, but they were very tasty nevertheless. Both the parfait and and the apple caramel it was served with were delicious - the highlight of the meal.
I'd be happy to recommend this place to anyone, and the set menu which varies month by month is excellent value, but the 'simple food cooked well' ethos doesn't allow much room for error, and I can't say this was error free.
I very much enjoyed my sole dining experience, although I did feel a little rushed. I guess the wait staff would usually wait for a lull in conversation before clearing plates, but since I was on my own (and the restaurant was largely empty), plates were cleared as soon as I was done and the next course brought out soon after. I barely had time to touch my bread rolls (which were clearly home made and very nice). I sat down at 2pm, and had finished my dessert by 2.40. I was hungry though, so I didn't mind too much.
So don't be put off eating on your own. Just bring something to read, and work up an appetite.
Friday, 26 July 2013
Cafe Maitreya
My father is a vegetarian. Now hang on, bear with me. It's not his fault, it's just the way he was raised.
Because he grew up before vegetarianism was really accepted as a thing that exists, he's gotten pretty used to not having much choice when he goes to restaurants. Let's just say it's a good thing he likes cheese omelettes. So when he came down to visit me on his birthday the other week, I suggested we try out Cafe Maitreya, a vegetarian restaurant in Easton I had heard about.
We could see why it has 'Cafe' in the title as soon as we walked in. The decor has that sort of laid back, daytime vibe, with light-coloured tables a touch too close to each other, big windows, and overpriced local artwork on the walls. It felt very informal and sociable, especially with the very decent music selection (until that abruptly stopped halfway through the evening).
We liked the sound of all the starters so the four of us ordered a different one each to make sure we would all get to try a bit. You've got to cover your bases. I had samphire fritters that were lovely, and as salty and greasy as scampi. Pete had an easy, classic asparagus and goats cheese. Mum had a 'weird but it works' radicchio, hazelnut and passionfruit salad, and Dad had a chilled garlic and almond soup with melon balls. I really liked the idea of this, but there was some sort of fortified wine in Dad's soup which made the whole thing strongly reminiscent of cream sherry. I marked that as nice enough, but more than a little odd.
For main I had spiced sweet potato pancakes with halloumi, while others had: 1) a coconut, cauliflower and tamarind laksa, 2) a warm salad of jersey royals, asparagus and lentils, and 3) a squash and applewood tarte tatin. Mum had read some reviews that said the portions were small, so we ordered extra wedges. The reviews were lies, told by lying liars. Do not order extra wedges. You will not need extra wedges.
The flavours of the sweet potato pancakes were powerful, but the texture was so dense and stodgy that eating it eventually became a chore. The consensus seemed to be that in the rush to pack in as much flavour as possible, a couple of things became a little overworked; the squash tatin was a little too sweet, some dressings were a little too acidic.
Despite the little hiccups here and there, we had a very enjoyable meal. Staff were attentive and friendly, and the food was, if not consistently amazing, always interesting.
It was also quite nice for Dad to have a bit of choice, and not be forced into a corner. If nothing else, Cafe Maitreya does an admirable job of proving you don't need meat to have a 'proper' substantial meal with strong flavours. I left with my belly all full of vegetables, and, as tradition dictates, farting like a trooper the next day.
Because he grew up before vegetarianism was really accepted as a thing that exists, he's gotten pretty used to not having much choice when he goes to restaurants. Let's just say it's a good thing he likes cheese omelettes. So when he came down to visit me on his birthday the other week, I suggested we try out Cafe Maitreya, a vegetarian restaurant in Easton I had heard about.
We could see why it has 'Cafe' in the title as soon as we walked in. The decor has that sort of laid back, daytime vibe, with light-coloured tables a touch too close to each other, big windows, and overpriced local artwork on the walls. It felt very informal and sociable, especially with the very decent music selection (until that abruptly stopped halfway through the evening).
We liked the sound of all the starters so the four of us ordered a different one each to make sure we would all get to try a bit. You've got to cover your bases. I had samphire fritters that were lovely, and as salty and greasy as scampi. Pete had an easy, classic asparagus and goats cheese. Mum had a 'weird but it works' radicchio, hazelnut and passionfruit salad, and Dad had a chilled garlic and almond soup with melon balls. I really liked the idea of this, but there was some sort of fortified wine in Dad's soup which made the whole thing strongly reminiscent of cream sherry. I marked that as nice enough, but more than a little odd.
For main I had spiced sweet potato pancakes with halloumi, while others had: 1) a coconut, cauliflower and tamarind laksa, 2) a warm salad of jersey royals, asparagus and lentils, and 3) a squash and applewood tarte tatin. Mum had read some reviews that said the portions were small, so we ordered extra wedges. The reviews were lies, told by lying liars. Do not order extra wedges. You will not need extra wedges.
The flavours of the sweet potato pancakes were powerful, but the texture was so dense and stodgy that eating it eventually became a chore. The consensus seemed to be that in the rush to pack in as much flavour as possible, a couple of things became a little overworked; the squash tatin was a little too sweet, some dressings were a little too acidic.
Despite the little hiccups here and there, we had a very enjoyable meal. Staff were attentive and friendly, and the food was, if not consistently amazing, always interesting.
It was also quite nice for Dad to have a bit of choice, and not be forced into a corner. If nothing else, Cafe Maitreya does an admirable job of proving you don't need meat to have a 'proper' substantial meal with strong flavours. I left with my belly all full of vegetables, and, as tradition dictates, farting like a trooper the next day.
Sunday, 21 July 2013
Bristol Food Festivals
Against all the odds, it appears to be Summer. Y'know, an actual one. I caught the sun while wearing a t-shirt, thereby giving myself an absolutely epic farmer's tan, so there's no going back now - even if it starts raining tomorrow I'll have the embarassing evidence that sunshine actually happened this year.
Summer means food festivals, and in Bristol (the spiritual home of the grubby festival goer) there's a lot of 'em about.
Last weekend was the Foodies Festival at Bristol Harbourside. It looked like fun, but there wasn't a huge amount of detail on the website, so at £12 a ticket I had no intention of going. Until I won two free tickets in a Twitter competition, that is.
It was bigger than I was expecting, quite sprawling really. There were large tents for demonstration, but other than that everything was outside. Rain wasn't a problem, but there wasn't any shade. This became an issue, as on the day I went it was hotter than the devil's own arsehole.
The selection was nicely varied, and the options for lunch were excellent. I had a tasty if rather oversalted sauteed potato, saucisson and comte tartiflette, but my friend Anna really won the round with the finest Rib Eye Sandwich I have ever seen. It came from El Gaucho Barbecue, and it looked and tasted amazing (she was good enough to let me try a bit).
There were your usual stands of fudge, olives and sauces, and all of pretty good quality. We decided to pick up enough ingredients to have a Ploughman's for dinner. We got 'Wyfe of Bath' cheese from The Bath Soft Cheese company, some goat's cheddar, a garlic pickle from The Cherry Tree, and some venison salami. All were delicious, but the goat's cheddar rather suffered from the heat. The garlic pickle was particularly good.
In danger of sounding like a weak, wilting flower, I am simply not built for hot weather. I sweat like someone turned a tap on, and the efficiency of the irrigation of my underboobs make me consider using their design as a way to alleviate drought in sub-Saharan Africa. This was a heat that even gelato couldn't handle. I needed to sit down and have some fizz.
While Anna had a coconut.
Usually I would be happy to wander round indefinitely, but considering the heat (did I mention that? It was a bit warm) we didn't hang around too long. Despite that it was a well organised and varied festival, although I doubt I'd go again as I'm more a fan of the 'free' variety.
Speaking of free food festivals, guess where I went this morning? The Love Food festival in the Paintworks. No pictures this time, I left my camera at home.
Although much smaller, I think I enjoyed this one even more. The stalls with cooked food were outside and the rest of the stalls were inside, although in a nice airy, temperate space. As soon as we got there we were approached by a boy of about 12 offering us samples of baby back ribs. He had style, that kid, and the kind of grifting attitude that wouldn't have looked out of place on the set of Oliver! The ribs were pretty good too. Nice one.
We had pies for lunch. Mine was a pork pie, hand made with British Lop pork by a very nice middle aged lady. Her whole stall had the unpretentious air of the School Fete about it - a mish-mash of pies, cakes and preserves, all obviously made (to a very high standard, of course) in her own kitchen. Pete had a much more professional looking 'Bath' pie from the local company Lovett Pies. It had braised beef, ale and blue cheese in it. Very tasty.
Pete also got a hot chilli sauce called 'Fire Wata' from Sister Gee. He was impressed with what he tried, and the man knows his chilli, so it's probably good. We went home with some Potato and Rosemary bread and some really ripe strawberries.
I think I'm about food festivalled out for now, so instead I might go round someone's house, take a look in their cupboards, then smile and say 'I might come back later' with no intention of doing so. Practically the same thing.
Summer means food festivals, and in Bristol (the spiritual home of the grubby festival goer) there's a lot of 'em about.
Last weekend was the Foodies Festival at Bristol Harbourside. It looked like fun, but there wasn't a huge amount of detail on the website, so at £12 a ticket I had no intention of going. Until I won two free tickets in a Twitter competition, that is.
It was bigger than I was expecting, quite sprawling really. There were large tents for demonstration, but other than that everything was outside. Rain wasn't a problem, but there wasn't any shade. This became an issue, as on the day I went it was hotter than the devil's own arsehole.
The selection was nicely varied, and the options for lunch were excellent. I had a tasty if rather oversalted sauteed potato, saucisson and comte tartiflette, but my friend Anna really won the round with the finest Rib Eye Sandwich I have ever seen. It came from El Gaucho Barbecue, and it looked and tasted amazing (she was good enough to let me try a bit).
 |
| Shhhh. The meat is resting. |
In danger of sounding like a weak, wilting flower, I am simply not built for hot weather. I sweat like someone turned a tap on, and the efficiency of the irrigation of my underboobs make me consider using their design as a way to alleviate drought in sub-Saharan Africa. This was a heat that even gelato couldn't handle. I needed to sit down and have some fizz.
 |
| Classy |
 |
| Classier |
Speaking of free food festivals, guess where I went this morning? The Love Food festival in the Paintworks. No pictures this time, I left my camera at home.
Although much smaller, I think I enjoyed this one even more. The stalls with cooked food were outside and the rest of the stalls were inside, although in a nice airy, temperate space. As soon as we got there we were approached by a boy of about 12 offering us samples of baby back ribs. He had style, that kid, and the kind of grifting attitude that wouldn't have looked out of place on the set of Oliver! The ribs were pretty good too. Nice one.
We had pies for lunch. Mine was a pork pie, hand made with British Lop pork by a very nice middle aged lady. Her whole stall had the unpretentious air of the School Fete about it - a mish-mash of pies, cakes and preserves, all obviously made (to a very high standard, of course) in her own kitchen. Pete had a much more professional looking 'Bath' pie from the local company Lovett Pies. It had braised beef, ale and blue cheese in it. Very tasty.
Pete also got a hot chilli sauce called 'Fire Wata' from Sister Gee. He was impressed with what he tried, and the man knows his chilli, so it's probably good. We went home with some Potato and Rosemary bread and some really ripe strawberries.
I think I'm about food festivalled out for now, so instead I might go round someone's house, take a look in their cupboards, then smile and say 'I might come back later' with no intention of doing so. Practically the same thing.
Friday, 10 May 2013
Wine tasting at Majestic
I am officially an old woman. You know that beautiful bank holiday we just had? The one where everyone was outside, enjoying the sun and life and finding inner peace and joy and all that bullshit? Well I had a bad back. Yeah. Initial plans of a walk and picnic were quickly downgraded to staying in and sitting very, very still. Even my 'occasionally turning my head to look at something' ideas became impractical. I was not happy, to the point where I began cursing the happiness of others, and that may well have led to my descent into misanthropy and super-villainy if I hadn't remembered one very important fact: alcohol. It exists.
On Tuesday my local Majestic had their Summer Wine Tasting to showcase the new wines they have in stock, and even though my back wasn't entirely better there was no way I was missing it. So off I hobbled to find some nice summer drinks and anaesthetise my back. Two birds, y'see.
They had about a dozen wines out. I would have preferred a bigger selection, but it was respectable enough. I recall a wine tasting which had about 80 wines out, and even though I limited myself to the ones I really wanted to try I was still pissed as a bastard by the end of it. I ended up being half carried home and drunk texting some friends my opinions on Lethal Weapon. So I guess 12 wines is fine.
My highlights were:
Greywacke Sauvignon Blanc, £19.99 or £15.99 each when you buy two.
I'm a big fan of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, so I was kind of hoping that this wouldn't be much better than the cheaper versions which are my standard. It is, goddammit. It's got a beautiful, big, fruity, grassy taste, all tomato vines and lemons and apples. I could drink this all day.
Amarone, Cantina Negrar, £22 or £18.99 when you buy two.
This was rich, smooth and deep; almost fortified. It had a spicy, dried fruit finish, and a bit of honeyed sweetness. A very nice special occasion wine, and probably a good match for a cheeseboard.
Nyetimber Classic Cuvee, £23.99
English wine! I know, right? I've tried a couple of English whites which I have enjoyed very much and I want to try more, but there's still only limited availability and they're generally on the dear end. Nyetimber, as the enthusiastic chap at Majestic was telling me, have a vineyard in Sussex that almost exactly matches the soil and climate of the Champagne region, and as the wine is made by the same method it's about as close to champagne as you're likely to get. I can't disagree. It has a lovely honey-on-toast yeastiness and a really deep, full flavour. A real celebration wine.
As you can see, all of these are a bit expensive, so even though these were my favourites the likelihood is I'm not going to get them. I might treat myself to the Greywacke one day, but that's about it. The one wine I tasted that I almost certainly will get is the (drumroll please):
Mister Shiraz, £8.74 or £6.99 each when you buy two
This was rich, smokey and tasty, and not nearly as drying and tannic as I often find with beefy Shiraz's - it went down smooth. I think this would be a great food wine, and my tasting guide even recommended it for a barbecue. I reckon a couple of grilled steaks, chips, some good company and a bottle of this will suit a Summer's evening down to the ground.
You'll be pleased to know my back is much better now, but if it strikes me down again and my movement is limited to sitting in one spot and raising a glass, well, I'm prepared for that eventuality.
On Tuesday my local Majestic had their Summer Wine Tasting to showcase the new wines they have in stock, and even though my back wasn't entirely better there was no way I was missing it. So off I hobbled to find some nice summer drinks and anaesthetise my back. Two birds, y'see.
They had about a dozen wines out. I would have preferred a bigger selection, but it was respectable enough. I recall a wine tasting which had about 80 wines out, and even though I limited myself to the ones I really wanted to try I was still pissed as a bastard by the end of it. I ended up being half carried home and drunk texting some friends my opinions on Lethal Weapon. So I guess 12 wines is fine.
My highlights were:
Greywacke Sauvignon Blanc, £19.99 or £15.99 each when you buy two.
I'm a big fan of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, so I was kind of hoping that this wouldn't be much better than the cheaper versions which are my standard. It is, goddammit. It's got a beautiful, big, fruity, grassy taste, all tomato vines and lemons and apples. I could drink this all day.
Amarone, Cantina Negrar, £22 or £18.99 when you buy two.
This was rich, smooth and deep; almost fortified. It had a spicy, dried fruit finish, and a bit of honeyed sweetness. A very nice special occasion wine, and probably a good match for a cheeseboard.
Nyetimber Classic Cuvee, £23.99
English wine! I know, right? I've tried a couple of English whites which I have enjoyed very much and I want to try more, but there's still only limited availability and they're generally on the dear end. Nyetimber, as the enthusiastic chap at Majestic was telling me, have a vineyard in Sussex that almost exactly matches the soil and climate of the Champagne region, and as the wine is made by the same method it's about as close to champagne as you're likely to get. I can't disagree. It has a lovely honey-on-toast yeastiness and a really deep, full flavour. A real celebration wine.
As you can see, all of these are a bit expensive, so even though these were my favourites the likelihood is I'm not going to get them. I might treat myself to the Greywacke one day, but that's about it. The one wine I tasted that I almost certainly will get is the (drumroll please):
Mister Shiraz, £8.74 or £6.99 each when you buy two
This was rich, smokey and tasty, and not nearly as drying and tannic as I often find with beefy Shiraz's - it went down smooth. I think this would be a great food wine, and my tasting guide even recommended it for a barbecue. I reckon a couple of grilled steaks, chips, some good company and a bottle of this will suit a Summer's evening down to the ground.
You'll be pleased to know my back is much better now, but if it strikes me down again and my movement is limited to sitting in one spot and raising a glass, well, I'm prepared for that eventuality.
Tuesday, 30 April 2013
The Star and Dove, Bristol
For the very first post I put up here I wrote about the Star and Dove (that link may not work right now, I think they're re-doing their website), a local pub which does phenomenal food. Seriously, these guys are going to get popular once word gets out so book up while you can. I was treated to a meal there for my birthday a couple of months ago, but wanted to leave it a respectable amount of time before I posted a review.
The deal with the Star and Dove (the Dining Room, at least, the bar food is slightly different) is they take recipes from the 12th to 18th century and recreate them with modern techniques. It's quite an odd sense of disassociation when you order something spelt lyke thys, and end up with a very contemporary looking plate.
I'm going to put my cards on the table here. I love stuff that is made to look like other stuff. Love it. I know it's gimmicky, but God help me, they brought a candle to the table and lit it and told us it was the butter for our rolls. For reals. It even had little dribbles of wax down it. How am I supposed to deal with that? Because if it isn't 'clap your hands and giggle like a child' then I may have chosen the wrong option.
We got aperitifs too. I love it when there's aperitifs. It's a little extra free gift to make you feel like you're getting your money's worth. Ours was a take on the flavours of a Waldorf salad. A rich celery veloute, with a fresh pickled walnut, crumbled apple jelly (they clearly like their gelling agents here - this was a jelly that looked and felt like sand, but would melt in your mouth), and a crisp of filo pastry.
My starter was a soft, tangy fresh buffalo cheese that matched perfectly with chicory and truffle honeycomb, while Pete had... I don't even know what to call it. It was like a ball of fish stock wrapped in smoked haddock and bacon cream so when you cut into it it would ooze more fish. In his words, it was the fishiest fish that ever fish. Fish. I'm not a fan of fish myself, but he assures me that if you did like fish you would probably like this fish. Fish.
My main was Welsh salt duck breast, with a liver mousse in a crispy pancake. I was conflicted about ordering this, because I love duck but really don't get on with liver. I needn't have worried. Although powerful tasting, the mousse avoided that graininess of texture that I dislike, and really tasted more like a fierce blue cheese than anything. Pete had a Carpet bagger steak, which was fillet steak stuffed with goose liver and pate. As you can tell, they are really offally versatile (do you see what I did there? I'm very amusing).
Puddings were amazeballs. Pete doesn't even like puddings all that much, but I've still managed to convince him to go back a number of times just so we can have a cake or dessert in the bar downstairs. I had 'Beetroot Salad', which involved beetroot candied, jellied and crisped and served with chocolate ganache, while Pete had a clotted cream and brandy ice cream, shaped and dipped in an orange gel to make it look like an orange, and served with orange curd. Stuff that looks like stuff. Love it.
So well played, The Star and Dove. Well played. I shall return anon.
The deal with the Star and Dove (the Dining Room, at least, the bar food is slightly different) is they take recipes from the 12th to 18th century and recreate them with modern techniques. It's quite an odd sense of disassociation when you order something spelt lyke thys, and end up with a very contemporary looking plate.
I'm going to put my cards on the table here. I love stuff that is made to look like other stuff. Love it. I know it's gimmicky, but God help me, they brought a candle to the table and lit it and told us it was the butter for our rolls. For reals. It even had little dribbles of wax down it. How am I supposed to deal with that? Because if it isn't 'clap your hands and giggle like a child' then I may have chosen the wrong option.
We got aperitifs too. I love it when there's aperitifs. It's a little extra free gift to make you feel like you're getting your money's worth. Ours was a take on the flavours of a Waldorf salad. A rich celery veloute, with a fresh pickled walnut, crumbled apple jelly (they clearly like their gelling agents here - this was a jelly that looked and felt like sand, but would melt in your mouth), and a crisp of filo pastry.
My starter was a soft, tangy fresh buffalo cheese that matched perfectly with chicory and truffle honeycomb, while Pete had... I don't even know what to call it. It was like a ball of fish stock wrapped in smoked haddock and bacon cream so when you cut into it it would ooze more fish. In his words, it was the fishiest fish that ever fish. Fish. I'm not a fan of fish myself, but he assures me that if you did like fish you would probably like this fish. Fish.
My main was Welsh salt duck breast, with a liver mousse in a crispy pancake. I was conflicted about ordering this, because I love duck but really don't get on with liver. I needn't have worried. Although powerful tasting, the mousse avoided that graininess of texture that I dislike, and really tasted more like a fierce blue cheese than anything. Pete had a Carpet bagger steak, which was fillet steak stuffed with goose liver and pate. As you can tell, they are really offally versatile (do you see what I did there? I'm very amusing).
Puddings were amazeballs. Pete doesn't even like puddings all that much, but I've still managed to convince him to go back a number of times just so we can have a cake or dessert in the bar downstairs. I had 'Beetroot Salad', which involved beetroot candied, jellied and crisped and served with chocolate ganache, while Pete had a clotted cream and brandy ice cream, shaped and dipped in an orange gel to make it look like an orange, and served with orange curd. Stuff that looks like stuff. Love it.
So well played, The Star and Dove. Well played. I shall return anon.
Wednesday, 20 March 2013
GBM 5, 6 and 7
A triple update! How exciting!
Week 5 has to be my favourite week so far. Not only was it based in my newly adopted home region of the South West, but it also felt like a good, friendly competition. The standard was high, and judged by cuddly over-sized teddy bear Tom Kerridge. Who I love a little bit. Other judges come in and tell the competitors to buck up and get to work, but Kerridge trots up, says 'Don't be nervous!' in his thick Gloucester burr, and proceeds to have a jolly nice time with everyone. Just lovely.
The chefs were all new to the competition. There was Emily, who looked a bit like Emilia Fox from Silent Witness and a bit like a sparrow; Chris, who I don't have anything amusing to say about; and Peter Sanchez-Inglesias, whose name I love and whose accent was a cross between trendy London and North Bristol so it was great when his dad turned up and was total Spaniard.
I really liked Emily's ideas, but I think she had a bit of a rough week - there were some scores for her which I thought should have been higher, but what do I know, I can't taste it. Chris bugged me a bit. His food looked fine, but he straight up said that he didn't know how to make food funny. I mean, it's a tough brief, sure, and he's certainly not the first contestant to have no sense of humour, but to not even know how to try sort of baffles me. Make something into the shape of a knob and have done with it. Jeez.
I would have been happy with either Emily or Peter winning, but Peter had it pretty much in the bag. Here's my highlights:
Biggest Prick of the Week - Tough. I quite like everyone, but I'm voting for Chris because he has no sense of humour.
Least Prickish Prick of the Week - Kerridge, hands down.
Moment of the Week - The camera is set up on Chris, who moves out the way to reveal an eery half reflection of Kerridge in the glass door, looking like nothing so much as Pipes from Ghost Watch. Amazing.
Bronwen's Favourite Dish - Lot's of good ones here, but Emily's 'Shoot Lunch' venison took my fancy. Special shout out to Peter's Sunday Lunch.
Wild card of the Week - Simon Day being funny, but clearly a bit of a miserable sod.
Week 6 - Northern Ireland.
While I really don't want to be racially insensitive to the Northern Irish (I'm lying, I'm a massive racist), this week's competitors were clearly members of the supporting cast of Father Ted. There was Chris Fearon as Father Dick Burn, "Seriously though, Ted, I think you might win", "Do you really think so?" "NO!", Raymond McArdle as Father Fitzgerald (the one with the world's most boring voice), and Ian Orr as Father Larry Duff. I don't have a great analogy for that one, but he kind of looks like him.
Compared with the feelgood factor of last week, this week was really difficult to watch. Ian Orr (haha, it's like 'Eeyore') was ok, but Chris used to work for Raymond and I'm going to go out on a limb and say they didn't get on. I quite liked Chris in previous years, but Raymond clearly got him riled so there was some serious dick swinging going on. Raymond just made me uncomfortable. I think he was trying to be witty and banterish, but he came across as a no-agenda with mild crazy eye.
This could have been called 'The Week of the Tortured Metaphor'. Glyn Purnell (who I used to like, but stopped when I saw him say something vaguely racist on Saturday Kitchen. Yes, I'm a racist hypocrite) was the worst at this, but Ray did his fair share. Ray: 'Will your fish dish sink or swim? Chris: 'What?'.
The food generally looked pretty decent. As in previous years, Chris's ideas were better than the execution, but I still can't believe Ray won. That guy is going to get some serious beats in the final. Anyway, highlights:
Biggest Prick of the Week - Close call between Chris and Raymond, but I'm going to go with the latter. The clincher was when he was fiddling about with some of Chris's props, to which he was (quite rightly) told to fuck off. Instead of laughing it off, or putting up his hands and saying 'fair enough' he got all defensive and went on about it just being a laugh. People who defend bad behaviour by claiming it was a joke really wind me up, so Raymond must now suffer as a result of my own bug-bears. I stand by it.
Least Prickish Prick of the Week - Ian Orr (haha, like 'Eeyore').
Moment of the Week - Chris on Raymond's 'Titanic' main course: "The Titanic doesn't make me laugh. It reminds me of death".
Bronwen's Favourite Dish - Chris' beef pie. That looked proper. Can't believe Ray won.
Wild card of the Week - Ray's 'Chocolate Volcano' that completely failed to erupt and looked kind of gross. Can't believe he won.
Week 7 - Central
This week had previous winner Daniel Clifford, with Will Holland (Duncan Goodhew) and Richard Bainbridge (hairy hipster Duncan Goodhew).
Oh Daniel. Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. Last year he got his main course to the banquet (even though his other dishes weren't all that), and as a result his ego has swollen like my thumb when I've been fiddling with a hangnail too much and it goes all sore. I'm surprised he didn't have to stand really far apart to make room for his massive balls. So, Daniel was in this round, and had adopted a very patronising, almost patrician air towards the other chefs. I really wanted someone to beat him, and Bainbridge gave him a good run for his money in the final, but I will grudgingly admit he probably deserved to win. Dick. Richard had some really great dishes, but wasn't quite up to the same standard. Will's cooking was probably decent, but he had completely ignored the brief, and I was pleased to see that Marcus Wareing (who I have a soft spot for) came down on that quite hard. Seriously, guys, read the brief.
Highlights:
Biggest Prick of the Week - Cliffooooooooooord!
Least Prickish Prick of the Week - Despite an ill-advised puppet show version of a GBM final, I do think Richard was really quite sweet.
Moment of the Week - Daniel actually being quite gracious after winning - you really felt for Richard after he'd tried so hard.
Bronwen's Favourite Dish - Richard's guinea fowl in a massive red dinosaur egg.
Wild card of the Week - Vic Reeves was guest judge. He didn't do much, but Vic Reeves gets a free pass because Vic Reeves.
Week 5 has to be my favourite week so far. Not only was it based in my newly adopted home region of the South West, but it also felt like a good, friendly competition. The standard was high, and judged by cuddly over-sized teddy bear Tom Kerridge. Who I love a little bit. Other judges come in and tell the competitors to buck up and get to work, but Kerridge trots up, says 'Don't be nervous!' in his thick Gloucester burr, and proceeds to have a jolly nice time with everyone. Just lovely.
The chefs were all new to the competition. There was Emily, who looked a bit like Emilia Fox from Silent Witness and a bit like a sparrow; Chris, who I don't have anything amusing to say about; and Peter Sanchez-Inglesias, whose name I love and whose accent was a cross between trendy London and North Bristol so it was great when his dad turned up and was total Spaniard.
I really liked Emily's ideas, but I think she had a bit of a rough week - there were some scores for her which I thought should have been higher, but what do I know, I can't taste it. Chris bugged me a bit. His food looked fine, but he straight up said that he didn't know how to make food funny. I mean, it's a tough brief, sure, and he's certainly not the first contestant to have no sense of humour, but to not even know how to try sort of baffles me. Make something into the shape of a knob and have done with it. Jeez.
I would have been happy with either Emily or Peter winning, but Peter had it pretty much in the bag. Here's my highlights:
Biggest Prick of the Week - Tough. I quite like everyone, but I'm voting for Chris because he has no sense of humour.
Least Prickish Prick of the Week - Kerridge, hands down.
Moment of the Week - The camera is set up on Chris, who moves out the way to reveal an eery half reflection of Kerridge in the glass door, looking like nothing so much as Pipes from Ghost Watch. Amazing.
Bronwen's Favourite Dish - Lot's of good ones here, but Emily's 'Shoot Lunch' venison took my fancy. Special shout out to Peter's Sunday Lunch.
Wild card of the Week - Simon Day being funny, but clearly a bit of a miserable sod.
Week 6 - Northern Ireland.
While I really don't want to be racially insensitive to the Northern Irish (I'm lying, I'm a massive racist), this week's competitors were clearly members of the supporting cast of Father Ted. There was Chris Fearon as Father Dick Burn, "Seriously though, Ted, I think you might win", "Do you really think so?" "NO!", Raymond McArdle as Father Fitzgerald (the one with the world's most boring voice), and Ian Orr as Father Larry Duff. I don't have a great analogy for that one, but he kind of looks like him.
Compared with the feelgood factor of last week, this week was really difficult to watch. Ian Orr (haha, it's like 'Eeyore') was ok, but Chris used to work for Raymond and I'm going to go out on a limb and say they didn't get on. I quite liked Chris in previous years, but Raymond clearly got him riled so there was some serious dick swinging going on. Raymond just made me uncomfortable. I think he was trying to be witty and banterish, but he came across as a no-agenda with mild crazy eye.
This could have been called 'The Week of the Tortured Metaphor'. Glyn Purnell (who I used to like, but stopped when I saw him say something vaguely racist on Saturday Kitchen. Yes, I'm a racist hypocrite) was the worst at this, but Ray did his fair share. Ray: 'Will your fish dish sink or swim? Chris: 'What?'.
The food generally looked pretty decent. As in previous years, Chris's ideas were better than the execution, but I still can't believe Ray won. That guy is going to get some serious beats in the final. Anyway, highlights:
Biggest Prick of the Week - Close call between Chris and Raymond, but I'm going to go with the latter. The clincher was when he was fiddling about with some of Chris's props, to which he was (quite rightly) told to fuck off. Instead of laughing it off, or putting up his hands and saying 'fair enough' he got all defensive and went on about it just being a laugh. People who defend bad behaviour by claiming it was a joke really wind me up, so Raymond must now suffer as a result of my own bug-bears. I stand by it.
Least Prickish Prick of the Week - Ian Orr (haha, like 'Eeyore').
Moment of the Week - Chris on Raymond's 'Titanic' main course: "The Titanic doesn't make me laugh. It reminds me of death".
Bronwen's Favourite Dish - Chris' beef pie. That looked proper. Can't believe Ray won.
Wild card of the Week - Ray's 'Chocolate Volcano' that completely failed to erupt and looked kind of gross. Can't believe he won.
Week 7 - Central
This week had previous winner Daniel Clifford, with Will Holland (Duncan Goodhew) and Richard Bainbridge (hairy hipster Duncan Goodhew).
Oh Daniel. Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. Last year he got his main course to the banquet (even though his other dishes weren't all that), and as a result his ego has swollen like my thumb when I've been fiddling with a hangnail too much and it goes all sore. I'm surprised he didn't have to stand really far apart to make room for his massive balls. So, Daniel was in this round, and had adopted a very patronising, almost patrician air towards the other chefs. I really wanted someone to beat him, and Bainbridge gave him a good run for his money in the final, but I will grudgingly admit he probably deserved to win. Dick. Richard had some really great dishes, but wasn't quite up to the same standard. Will's cooking was probably decent, but he had completely ignored the brief, and I was pleased to see that Marcus Wareing (who I have a soft spot for) came down on that quite hard. Seriously, guys, read the brief.
Highlights:
Biggest Prick of the Week - Cliffooooooooooord!
Least Prickish Prick of the Week - Despite an ill-advised puppet show version of a GBM final, I do think Richard was really quite sweet.
Moment of the Week - Daniel actually being quite gracious after winning - you really felt for Richard after he'd tried so hard.
Bronwen's Favourite Dish - Richard's guinea fowl in a massive red dinosaur egg.
Wild card of the Week - Vic Reeves was guest judge. He didn't do much, but Vic Reeves gets a free pass because Vic Reeves.
Wednesday, 27 February 2013
GBM weeks 3 and 4
A double update!
Week 3 was the North West, featuring Aiden (Northern Lex Luther), Mary Ellen (ditzy chemistry teacher) and Chris (*yawn*... sorry, what? Who? Oh yeah, that guy), judged by previous winner Phil Howard.
The theme for this week was 'The Reformed Bell-End'. Both Phil and Aiden were insufferable in their own special ways in previous years, but actually came out alright this time. Phil's arrogance didn't feature so much when he got to be a judge, and he was a reasonably fair one at that. And Aiden used to be the absolute poster boy for over-competitiveness (competitiveness? competitivity?) and snarking, but (while that side of him didn't completely disappear) the fact that both Mary Ellen and Chris were quite nice and not rising to it meant that he didn't have anyone to be over-competitive with.
I tell you what I didn't like so much. The narrator constantly harping on about the chef's failings. Mary Ellen had a rough first round and came up late, but still got high marks, which you wouldn't know if you only heard the VO banging on about how precarious her position was. And the epithet they came up with for Aiden was 'three time loser'. Not cool, writers. As time went by I found myself rooting for Aiden more and more. Mary Ellen was obviously nicer and had some cool ideas, but Aiden was so desperate to win and put so much effort in it became quite endearing. He even teared up a couple of times when he got high scores. Bless.
Aiden ended up the winner, but here's my highlights:
Biggest Prick of the Week - This was a tough one. Phil was condescending and Aiden was bolshy, but I'm going to have to give this one to Guest Judge Rowland Rivron. Because screw that guy.
Least Prickish Prick of the Week - Mary Ellen. She didn't quite hit it this year but I think she'll do well in the future.
Moment of the Week - The tears of Lex Luther when he finally beat Superman. I mean, won the final.
Bronwen's Favourite Dish - A tie between Aiden's beef dish and Mary Ellen's Bathtub of Beans. I'm not a fan of crabmeat, but it did look pretty cool. I love food that's made to look like other things.
Wild card of the Week - Rowland Rivron teaming up with Matthew Fort to make Dad jokes.
Week 4 was in the North East, with (I think) exactly the same competitors as last year. The only difference was the judge was Jason Atherton instead of Nigel Haworth, which produced much rejoicing, as Haworth was one of my least favourite judges of all time. Atherton was alright, but his grammar drove Pete barmy. 'Pronouns are not interchangeable motherfuckeeeeerrr'.
The chefs were Colin (slightly effete previous winner with a dry-ice fetish) Stephanie (mad-eyed eager country lass) and Charlie (dead ringer for the kind of guy who used to hit on me at my old Uni's Alt-Rock nights*, so I remain surprised he isn't actually a 4th year engineering student wearing a Korn t-shirt).
By all rights, this should have been Stephanie's year. She's had gimmicky-fun leanings before, but it seemed that Nigel Haworth (grrr) knocked those out of her last year when he consistently picked on her, even pulling her away for a chat about how badly she was doing (she was doing fine, he just didn't get it). In my view, Charlie was the one who hit the brief, even when it was bit, uhh, much. But Colin was streets ahead of the other two and it wasn't much of a surprise when he won. Having said that, it was really close between him and Stephanie on the final day, and when Tim Brooke-Taylor came back to tell them how close it was I really enjoyed seeing his face fall. He was a bit too smug.
Anyway, the highlights:
Biggest Prick of the Week - Charlie. In a way this series has been a lot more diverse than previous ones. The pricks they've featured have ranged from 'smug prick' to 'annoying prick', but I have to say it's nice to see a good old fashioned 'aggressively competitive prick' again. Well played, Charlie, well played.
Least Prickish Prick of the Week - Stephanie 'Mad-eye' Moon. Gawd bless her.
Moment of the Week - When Charlie brought up his starter that looked like a dog turd, and Jason Atherton was clearly unimpressed.
Bronwen's Favourite Dish - You know, I'm going to go with Charlie's Take Away kebab dish. I know it got slated and looked a bit of a mess, but I think it was a neat idea and took balls. Charlie wins again.
Wild card of the Week - Atherton: 'I'm looking for a plate what delivers good'. Pete: 'Fuck yooooooooou'.
I won't leave it so long next time. Promise
*I don't mean to brag here. Even back in the day I tended to give off a matronly, maternal air, so the Prog fans found me comforting while the Metalheads wanted to corrupt me. Ahh, the alt-rock crowd. I truly was their queen.
Week 3 was the North West, featuring Aiden (Northern Lex Luther), Mary Ellen (ditzy chemistry teacher) and Chris (*yawn*... sorry, what? Who? Oh yeah, that guy), judged by previous winner Phil Howard.
The theme for this week was 'The Reformed Bell-End'. Both Phil and Aiden were insufferable in their own special ways in previous years, but actually came out alright this time. Phil's arrogance didn't feature so much when he got to be a judge, and he was a reasonably fair one at that. And Aiden used to be the absolute poster boy for over-competitiveness (competitiveness? competitivity?) and snarking, but (while that side of him didn't completely disappear) the fact that both Mary Ellen and Chris were quite nice and not rising to it meant that he didn't have anyone to be over-competitive with.
I tell you what I didn't like so much. The narrator constantly harping on about the chef's failings. Mary Ellen had a rough first round and came up late, but still got high marks, which you wouldn't know if you only heard the VO banging on about how precarious her position was. And the epithet they came up with for Aiden was 'three time loser'. Not cool, writers. As time went by I found myself rooting for Aiden more and more. Mary Ellen was obviously nicer and had some cool ideas, but Aiden was so desperate to win and put so much effort in it became quite endearing. He even teared up a couple of times when he got high scores. Bless.
Aiden ended up the winner, but here's my highlights:
Biggest Prick of the Week - This was a tough one. Phil was condescending and Aiden was bolshy, but I'm going to have to give this one to Guest Judge Rowland Rivron. Because screw that guy.
Least Prickish Prick of the Week - Mary Ellen. She didn't quite hit it this year but I think she'll do well in the future.
Moment of the Week - The tears of Lex Luther when he finally beat Superman. I mean, won the final.
Bronwen's Favourite Dish - A tie between Aiden's beef dish and Mary Ellen's Bathtub of Beans. I'm not a fan of crabmeat, but it did look pretty cool. I love food that's made to look like other things.
Wild card of the Week - Rowland Rivron teaming up with Matthew Fort to make Dad jokes.
Week 4 was in the North East, with (I think) exactly the same competitors as last year. The only difference was the judge was Jason Atherton instead of Nigel Haworth, which produced much rejoicing, as Haworth was one of my least favourite judges of all time. Atherton was alright, but his grammar drove Pete barmy. 'Pronouns are not interchangeable motherfuckeeeeerrr'.
The chefs were Colin (slightly effete previous winner with a dry-ice fetish) Stephanie (mad-eyed eager country lass) and Charlie (dead ringer for the kind of guy who used to hit on me at my old Uni's Alt-Rock nights*, so I remain surprised he isn't actually a 4th year engineering student wearing a Korn t-shirt).
By all rights, this should have been Stephanie's year. She's had gimmicky-fun leanings before, but it seemed that Nigel Haworth (grrr) knocked those out of her last year when he consistently picked on her, even pulling her away for a chat about how badly she was doing (she was doing fine, he just didn't get it). In my view, Charlie was the one who hit the brief, even when it was bit, uhh, much. But Colin was streets ahead of the other two and it wasn't much of a surprise when he won. Having said that, it was really close between him and Stephanie on the final day, and when Tim Brooke-Taylor came back to tell them how close it was I really enjoyed seeing his face fall. He was a bit too smug.
Anyway, the highlights:
Biggest Prick of the Week - Charlie. In a way this series has been a lot more diverse than previous ones. The pricks they've featured have ranged from 'smug prick' to 'annoying prick', but I have to say it's nice to see a good old fashioned 'aggressively competitive prick' again. Well played, Charlie, well played.
Least Prickish Prick of the Week - Stephanie 'Mad-eye' Moon. Gawd bless her.
Moment of the Week - When Charlie brought up his starter that looked like a dog turd, and Jason Atherton was clearly unimpressed.
Bronwen's Favourite Dish - You know, I'm going to go with Charlie's Take Away kebab dish. I know it got slated and looked a bit of a mess, but I think it was a neat idea and took balls. Charlie wins again.
Wild card of the Week - Atherton: 'I'm looking for a plate what delivers good'. Pete: 'Fuck yooooooooou'.
I won't leave it so long next time. Promise
*I don't mean to brag here. Even back in the day I tended to give off a matronly, maternal air, so the Prog fans found me comforting while the Metalheads wanted to corrupt me. Ahh, the alt-rock crowd. I truly was their queen.
Wednesday, 13 February 2013
GBM Week 2: Scotland
So the contestants last week were Michael (dour stereotypical Scotsman), Mark (illegitimate offspring of Wolverine and K D Lang) and Tony (wearisome office joker) from Scotland, all judged by Angela Hartnett (who I'm really quite fond of and was firm but fair in her scoring).
Once again, what constitutes 'funny' was widely open to debate, and actually entirely ignored in Michael's main dish, but the judges exercised their ancient privilege to ignore their own rules if they like something enough. Tony was probably the guy who stuck with the brief the most, but Christ he didn't half get on my tits. That, and the narrator CONSTANTLY referring to him as 'risk-taker Tony' or 'self-proclaimed joker Tony' meant I wasn't too sad to see him dismissed on Thursday, leaving the Undertaker and KD Lang to face it out in the final. Having said that, his wilful recklessness did provide a nice contrast to the seriousness of the others.
This week the odd editorial decision to have a lot of close-ups on people's eyes kind of made it seem like a Sergio Leone stand-off at some points, but despite the programme makers best efforts to try and inject tension, everyone seemed to get on ok.
Michael ended up the winner, but here's my highlights:
Biggest Prick of the Week - Oliver 'I'm feeling generous, and I'm still going to say it's the worst thing I've ever eaten' Peyton.
Least Prickish Prick of the Week - Angela Hartnett. I'm not qualified to say on this point, but Pete has come up with the term 'GastroMILF'.
Moment of the Week - When almost all the judges thought Michael's dyed red egg yolk looked gross and didn't want to eat it after he'd spent hours cooking it.
Bronwen's Favourite Dish - Michael's 'Chicken hit by a car' dish. Dark, man.
Wild card of the Week - Angela's up-do that made her look like Captain Katherine Janeway.
Once again, what constitutes 'funny' was widely open to debate, and actually entirely ignored in Michael's main dish, but the judges exercised their ancient privilege to ignore their own rules if they like something enough. Tony was probably the guy who stuck with the brief the most, but Christ he didn't half get on my tits. That, and the narrator CONSTANTLY referring to him as 'risk-taker Tony' or 'self-proclaimed joker Tony' meant I wasn't too sad to see him dismissed on Thursday, leaving the Undertaker and KD Lang to face it out in the final. Having said that, his wilful recklessness did provide a nice contrast to the seriousness of the others.
This week the odd editorial decision to have a lot of close-ups on people's eyes kind of made it seem like a Sergio Leone stand-off at some points, but despite the programme makers best efforts to try and inject tension, everyone seemed to get on ok.
Michael ended up the winner, but here's my highlights:
Biggest Prick of the Week - Oliver 'I'm feeling generous, and I'm still going to say it's the worst thing I've ever eaten' Peyton.
Least Prickish Prick of the Week - Angela Hartnett. I'm not qualified to say on this point, but Pete has come up with the term 'GastroMILF'.
Moment of the Week - When almost all the judges thought Michael's dyed red egg yolk looked gross and didn't want to eat it after he'd spent hours cooking it.
Bronwen's Favourite Dish - Michael's 'Chicken hit by a car' dish. Dark, man.
Wild card of the Week - Angela's up-do that made her look like Captain Katherine Janeway.
Monday, 4 February 2013
Great British Menu returns!
It's back! The show that I both adore and compulsively hatewatch. The food looks delicious! Everyone is a bastard! The editorial decisions are questionable! I have strongly mixed feelings about the people involved!
This time round there's a Comic Relief tie-in, and the brief is to create dishes that make people laugh. It's tougher than it sounds as almost everyone appears to be entirely humourless about the process, with wildly differing views on what constitutes 'funny'.
It kicked off last week in the South East, with Matt (the new boy), Tom (the old hand) and Adam (Tiny Phil Daniels with a thousand yard stare). It had all the old features of GBM that I find so fascinating; Oliver Peyton whining mournfully, Matthew Fort being posh and making 'Dad' jokes, Prue Leith brokering the peace, strategic editing that makes it look like the competitors spend 80% of their time eyeballing each other, and, of course, chefs aggressively dick swinging. The only way you can pick a favourite is by trying to find someone who seems a little less prickish than the others.
Here's my round up:
Biggest Prick of the Week - Richard Corrigan. I intensely disliked his leading questions showing obvious disapproval and his wheedling rhetoric. He made me uncomfortable. I shouted at the screen a lot.
Least Prickish Prick of the Week - Matt. The new boy actually seemed quite nice, and I think he handled the brief better than any of them.
Moment of the Week - Tie between Arabella Weir smacking down Matthew Fort when he tried to pretend that a dish that wasn't funny was just funny in a different way (it wasn't), and in the final when Tom raised his hand to clap it on Adam's shoulder in a congratulatory way, and Adam instinctively put up his arm defensively to block the blow.
Bronwen's Favourite Dish - Tom Aikens chicken/egg nonsense. Looked fancy, and I'm a sucker for a sabayon.
Wild Card of the Week - Oliver's mint green blazer. Whut.
I'll try and make weekly reports, because the people need to know, godammit. Watch this space.
This time round there's a Comic Relief tie-in, and the brief is to create dishes that make people laugh. It's tougher than it sounds as almost everyone appears to be entirely humourless about the process, with wildly differing views on what constitutes 'funny'.
It kicked off last week in the South East, with Matt (the new boy), Tom (the old hand) and Adam (Tiny Phil Daniels with a thousand yard stare). It had all the old features of GBM that I find so fascinating; Oliver Peyton whining mournfully, Matthew Fort being posh and making 'Dad' jokes, Prue Leith brokering the peace, strategic editing that makes it look like the competitors spend 80% of their time eyeballing each other, and, of course, chefs aggressively dick swinging. The only way you can pick a favourite is by trying to find someone who seems a little less prickish than the others.
Here's my round up:
Biggest Prick of the Week - Richard Corrigan. I intensely disliked his leading questions showing obvious disapproval and his wheedling rhetoric. He made me uncomfortable. I shouted at the screen a lot.
Least Prickish Prick of the Week - Matt. The new boy actually seemed quite nice, and I think he handled the brief better than any of them.
Moment of the Week - Tie between Arabella Weir smacking down Matthew Fort when he tried to pretend that a dish that wasn't funny was just funny in a different way (it wasn't), and in the final when Tom raised his hand to clap it on Adam's shoulder in a congratulatory way, and Adam instinctively put up his arm defensively to block the blow.
Bronwen's Favourite Dish - Tom Aikens chicken/egg nonsense. Looked fancy, and I'm a sucker for a sabayon.
Wild Card of the Week - Oliver's mint green blazer. Whut.
I'll try and make weekly reports, because the people need to know, godammit. Watch this space.
Friday, 4 January 2013
A new blog for a New Year
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the dawn of a new era. If you were lucky enough to be one of the many charming and sexy readers of the haphazardly formatted and rarely updated Eat It, then you'll love this Food Blog 2.0. But things have changed since then. Oh yes. Time makes fools of us all. For one thing, I have moved from Leamington Spa, the quaint Georgian bosom of the West Midlands, to Bristol, the jiggling, in-your-face cleavage of the South West. I like it. So, for this first post of the new blog, I'm going to write about a few of the local foodie joints I've found and started loitering around.
The Thali Cafe
Right away I'm establishing myself as an outsider here, because it seems that all the locals I've spoken to already know and love this place. 'Oh, you like the Thali Cafe? Well, duh, of course you do. What's wrong with you? Hey, here's a tip, if you're stuck for something for lunch, why don't you try a bit of ham or cheese between two slices of bread! We call them sandwiches*'. For the benefit of anyone out of the Brizzle loop, this is one of the best Indian restaurants I've ever visited, but the take-away is where they really come into their own. The first time you visit you have to buy a Tiffin box (around £20, if memory serves - it comes full of food, so I don't think it's exhorbitant), but every time you go back you bring the tiffin box with you for a cheap refill that'll easily serve two people. There are four compartments, filled with rice, dhal, a vegetable curry, and your choice of main curry. The lamb would be my regular choice, but the paneer is also excellent.
*Other than the glib 'we call them sandwiches' remark, that is a genuine tip that I once read in a Woman's Own magazine. I swear to God.
The Star and Dove
This pub/restaurant (I'm not keen on the term 'gastropub', so you'll have to indulge me the use of the less aesthetically pleasing forward slash) is something of a curiousity. From the outside it looks like a standard pub. From the inside, it also looks like a standard pub. Sneaky, aren't they? Really lulling you into a false sense of security. There's a nice cosy fire, a good range of decently kept beers, pork pies at the counter, and board games at the back. From the look of it you absolutely wouldn't think that the restaurant upstairs produces fabulous recreations of medieval to renaissance era recipes like 'Roajied ham' or 'Crabbe with hippocras', would you? Yeah, weren't expecting that one, were you? The bar food isn't like that. That would be ridiculous, can you imagine? No, the bar food is based on the 'Tavern' food of the 18th-19th centuries, obviously. When I visited, our group shared a number of different little plates - the goats cheese with nuts and wild honey was fantastic, as was the black and white sausages, and the lamb shoulder croquettes. Dessert was a platter of different tasters, including fiery hot little ginger meringues, chewy orange and chocolate brownies, a frozen orange jelly, a room temperature red wine jelly, a clean tasting just-set bay custard, and a number of other bits and pieces that reduced our table to silence as we picked it apart like vultures. Classy, highbrow vultures. I'm going back for my birthday.
Graze Bar and Chophouse
'Graze' is a great example of a place doing one thing very, very well. The menu is short. They do steak. There are a couple of other things (I think I spotted a single token vegetarian main course), but they mainly consist of things to have before you have your steak, after you have your steak, or as a side. To your steak. The only downside is they are not cheap, but as an occasional treat I still say it's worth it. Order a rib-eye, rare, with bearnaise sauce. Usually I would qualify that statement with 'if you like' or 'in my opinion', but not this time. Just do it.
The Thali Cafe
Right away I'm establishing myself as an outsider here, because it seems that all the locals I've spoken to already know and love this place. 'Oh, you like the Thali Cafe? Well, duh, of course you do. What's wrong with you? Hey, here's a tip, if you're stuck for something for lunch, why don't you try a bit of ham or cheese between two slices of bread! We call them sandwiches*'. For the benefit of anyone out of the Brizzle loop, this is one of the best Indian restaurants I've ever visited, but the take-away is where they really come into their own. The first time you visit you have to buy a Tiffin box (around £20, if memory serves - it comes full of food, so I don't think it's exhorbitant), but every time you go back you bring the tiffin box with you for a cheap refill that'll easily serve two people. There are four compartments, filled with rice, dhal, a vegetable curry, and your choice of main curry. The lamb would be my regular choice, but the paneer is also excellent.
*Other than the glib 'we call them sandwiches' remark, that is a genuine tip that I once read in a Woman's Own magazine. I swear to God.
The Star and Dove
This pub/restaurant (I'm not keen on the term 'gastropub', so you'll have to indulge me the use of the less aesthetically pleasing forward slash) is something of a curiousity. From the outside it looks like a standard pub. From the inside, it also looks like a standard pub. Sneaky, aren't they? Really lulling you into a false sense of security. There's a nice cosy fire, a good range of decently kept beers, pork pies at the counter, and board games at the back. From the look of it you absolutely wouldn't think that the restaurant upstairs produces fabulous recreations of medieval to renaissance era recipes like 'Roajied ham' or 'Crabbe with hippocras', would you? Yeah, weren't expecting that one, were you? The bar food isn't like that. That would be ridiculous, can you imagine? No, the bar food is based on the 'Tavern' food of the 18th-19th centuries, obviously. When I visited, our group shared a number of different little plates - the goats cheese with nuts and wild honey was fantastic, as was the black and white sausages, and the lamb shoulder croquettes. Dessert was a platter of different tasters, including fiery hot little ginger meringues, chewy orange and chocolate brownies, a frozen orange jelly, a room temperature red wine jelly, a clean tasting just-set bay custard, and a number of other bits and pieces that reduced our table to silence as we picked it apart like vultures. Classy, highbrow vultures. I'm going back for my birthday.
Graze Bar and Chophouse
'Graze' is a great example of a place doing one thing very, very well. The menu is short. They do steak. There are a couple of other things (I think I spotted a single token vegetarian main course), but they mainly consist of things to have before you have your steak, after you have your steak, or as a side. To your steak. The only downside is they are not cheap, but as an occasional treat I still say it's worth it. Order a rib-eye, rare, with bearnaise sauce. Usually I would qualify that statement with 'if you like' or 'in my opinion', but not this time. Just do it.
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