‘Splodged’

AS SOON as I received an e-mail entitled ‘we’re coming’, I was only too pleased to prep a foodsy itinerary for Jonathan, author of refreshingly quirky but savvy, ‘Wine Splodge’ and his partner, Marina (the ‘Style Scanner’).

Marina being a designer, whose client roll-call includes Pete Doherty, I assumed their main pull from Glasgow would be towards London’s fashion week rather than its gastronomy. But they proved to have a fervour for flavour when breaking from the catwalk. We took in a hotchpotch of Marylebone’s eateries and drinkeries, then stumbled on to Farringdon. For their third and final act, they headed to Soho’s ‘Coach & Horses’ (try the Sambrook), emerging amazingly fresh the following day to celebrate the international day of Mozzarella di Bufala Campania - a sort of curdsy Eurovision broadcast across 25 cities...

Marina generously gifted me a magnetic business card, a set of her dazzling line in cufflinks, and the crack cocaine of Scottish confectionary, ‘tablet’, which I promptly scoffed.

See Jonathan’s post on the day at: A Date with Douglas Blyde

and: Style Scanner

Food Foundations

Coinciding with Shrove Tuesday, I ventured to Leith’s School of Food and Wine, Hammersmith, to meet acting Managing Director, Jenny Stringer.

How did Leith’s begin?

In 1975, Prudence Margaret Leith OBE founded the school to train the workforce of her catering business and Michelin-starred restaurant.

How was it perceived?

As a finishing school for young women, although Pru was actually a revolutionary, working against the tide of the food culture of the era, which included the likes of tomatoes carved into lily-pads and fish garnished with piped green mash (supposedly giving a sense of the sea).

What’s your connection?

I enrolled as a student 18 years ago, fast falling in love with the school’s special atmosphere. Everybody’s working towards the same thing here, channelling their passion for food into plated perfectionism.

How is Leith’s today?

Whilst it’s changed dramatically over the last decade, our focus remains firmly on steering 96 students through the year long diploma. Acclaimed internationally, this is tightly structured, with transparent marking and a huge amount of hands on cooking. Through our specialist agency, we also endeavour to match students with jobs.

Who does the diploma appeal to?

Career changers, rather than school leavers. People come to us with a strong awareness of what they need to achieve. We have the most amazing mixture of previous lives, including fearless 23 year old, Max Anderson, former world champion ‘snake-boarder’ (a central board with pivoting footplates). Max is trying for a stage at the ‘Fat Duck’ restaurant, where we currently have a student.

Can you tell a student’s former professions by their approach to cooking?

To an extent, although I can always spot former accountants – their attention to detail on the petit fours and canapé day is enormous.

Describe a day for diploma students?

School starts at 9:30am. After completing a time-plan (cooking being all about meeting deadlines) they head to the kitchens where tutors talk through the day’s cooking point-by-point, singing from the same song-sheet to prevent confusion. They cook independently, although they might make a stock, for example, in small groups. By 12:30, food is plated, then marked. The afternoon session begins at 2pm, with demonstrations, then a tasting of four-to-five dishes. The day ends at 5pm, although some students stay on to earn money by washing-up for an evening class, which will be over by 9pm.

Whilst we source almost all ingredients ourselves, students sometimes like to head to Smithfield or Billingsgate markets, returning bleary-eyed with their haul.

What is your feedback?

Students say it’s exhilarating, but exhausting and that they learnt much more than they thought. Imagine a former lawyer who’s done terrible exams, often working through the night. By comparison, a cookery qualification might sound like ‘a walk in the park’. But the diploma is an immersion - 16 students per class live and breathe technique, learning a topic a day (at least in the first term).

What do you think of those who call the school ‘elitist’?

Our students are thrilled to be here, often sacrificing so much: selling houses or relying on partners.

How does your new site compare to your previous premises?

Most professional chefs are stuffed underground, behind nailed-up windows. But we’re proud of this beautiful building, which is flooded with daylight. Space was so limited before that I didn’t even have the luxury of a whole desk to myself! With our secondary kitchens, we can host day-long specialist courses, such as knife skills, which has a waiting list running into 100s. We also run courses on ‘super foods’, baking by Yotam Ottolenghi, and vegetarian cooking with teachers from the Cordon Verre. I must admit that the latter never seems to book-up as fast as our beer, wine and chocolate ones...

How does the nation’s invigoration of gastronomy filter through?

Our diploma course is consistently full. We find students have pinpoints of areas in which they’re very knowledgeable, such as artisan breads, often gleaned from reading seductively beautiful books or watching television programmes. However, whilst they might be fantastic at baking, they could be lacking in an area of minimal interest, like not being able to blend a white sauce, or bone out a chicken. That’s why we assume no prior knowledge.

What are you most proud of?

Modernising the Leith’s experience, and making sure, through meetings, that we are right for our potential students. Above all, the entry requirement is a passionate enthusiasm and that they actually cook at home.

What’s Leith’s policy towards students whose diets are restricted by religion?

We teach everyone about special diets, be they religious, or increasingly, gluten free. It might be that we that we give Muslim students chicken instead of tenderloin – but they must still learn the actual technique, and how to make the appropriate sauce.

Could restaurant critics benefit from a course?

It depends whether they write about the actual food. Former student, Lulu Grimes (food director of magazines, ‘Olive’ and ‘Good Food’) is running an eight week course, including food criticism, feature writing, and getting pitches seen by editors. It was at capacity eight hours after it was advertised on the website.

Where does Leith’s recruit their specialists?

They often come direct to us, like a chef who worked at the nearby gastro-pub, the Anglesey Arms - a former student. We can also bring-in celebrity chefs that students want to learn from, such as Atul Kochhar from Mayfair’s ‘Benares’.

Where is Leith’s going?

We will respond to popular demand to run more one day courses, from crafting dim-sum, to food styling, to masterclasses like those mooted by former student, Henry Harris of ‘Racine’ restaurant. Henry plans to give insight into his classic dishes, involving all sorts of butchery. I love the idea of offering people the chance to come and spend a day in the kitchen with one of their favourite chefs.

Who are your favourite former students?

Matt Christmas became head chef of Wandsworth’s ‘Chez Bruce’ within four years of leaving us. It’s one of my favourite restaurants: where I got engaged and where I’d go for the rest of my life if I could. My measure of what good food means. As a junior teacher, Matt Tebbutt was also one of my first students to graduate. I’m proud to see his smiling face on UKTV’s ‘Market Kitchen’. He was cheerful and friendly, even as a student.

We stick to our strap-line – ‘whether you’re here for a day or a year, you’re part of Leith’s’. We encourage students to keep in lifelong contact, and are not averse to answering grisly questions, such as: ‘I’ve got a lobster in the bath and can’t quite remember where to shove-in the knife...’

Leith's School of Food and Wine

16-20 Wendell Road, London. W12 9RT

La Cuisine for the Wine Savvy

IF YOU head over to Andrew Barrow's excellent site, Spittoon, you will find my write-up on a very special lunch prepared by one Monsieur Robuchon, with wines by his friend, Bernard Magrez.
See:

> La Cuisine for the Wine Savvy <

Out of The Kitchen and Onto The Plane

SVELTE in a sharp suit rather than chef’s whites, Catalan chef and self-titled culinary ‘agitator’, Ferrán Adriá chose London’s baroque Spanish embassy to announce details of the first European Congress of Tourism and Gastronomy, Tuesday.

Against a backdrop of jaunty canvases of vintage drunken dandies, Adriá opened with the line, ‘next week, I learn English’ (delivered via his translator, to rousing applause).

On the need for such an initiative, he explained that cooking techniques had advanced ‘more in 15 years than the past 100’, partly because the internet ‘links chefs’. He posed the questions, ‘what will hotels, airlines and restaurants look like in a decade?’ and, ‘how will information be delivered?’

Expanding upon his announcement last month that the triple Michelin-starred restaurant, elBulli will become a non-profit culinary ‘think-tank’ in the next four years (and thus eligible for tax breaks) he criticised press for causing him ‘20 days of anguish’ in its wake. ‘There was much speculation and confusion - people got lost in it all.’ Along with restaurant manager, Juli Soler, he vexed, ‘this all came out way before we were ready...’

Ultimately, Adriá claims no ulterior motive for his decision other than to perpetuate a culture of gastronomic reinvention. ‘It’s very difficult to remain creative in a restaurant,’ he said. ‘But with 30 scholarships available for the very finest talents, paid between €15-20k, elBulli is no longer going to be just about me - that’s the difference.’

Unfortunately, the restaurant’s hellish reservations system, quoted at 2 million enquiries for 6,500 covers per year, will not change. He said: ‘it’s not about the numbers of diners whom visit, but the numbers of chefs who have worked with us and continue to influence - totalling over 1,000 in two decades.’

Of the reason why London was chosen as the launch-pad for the congress, Joan Mesquida, Spanish Secretary of State for Tourism, underlined Spain’s attraction to the British - who make around 17 million visits per year according to the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. Food is a major reason, with ‘Restaurant Magazine featuring four Spanish restaurants in the world’s top 50,’ he said. However, ‘nobody taught us how to eat, so the congress will focus on education and the roots of gastronomy.’ Mesquida then formally announced Adriá as the new face of the Spanish Tourism Board. He is scheduled to begin his ambassadorial duties in Asia, no doubt keen to explore what hotels, airlines and restaurants look like at the present time.

As if influenced by thoughts of holidays, rare sun poured through the voiles, glinting through flutes of vintage Cava. This deftly cut through moist, silky slithers of Jamón de Teruel and Adriá authored canapés, including squid head cornets.

The inaugural event occurs at Madrid’s Institución Ferial, 24-25 May, and will feature 27 European countries.

The World’s 50 Best Restaurants Awards 2010 occurs 26 April at Guildhall, City of London.

Truffles

IN CELEBRATION of Alba truffles spun into buttery tagliatelle at Cinquecento restaurant, Holloway Road. Imported directly, and generously applied, these white centred black tubers landed fragrantly on the al dente, handmade pasta for a measly supplement, rendering me... speechless.

Food and Think

‘FORK’ magazine ‘celebrates independent producers, artisans and the rising stars of the food world.’

Here is a link to my latest feature about Katy Davidson, leader of the Youth Food Movement:

> Food and Think <

Printed on beautiful matt paper, a year’s subscription to the bi-monthly costs just £12.

All Roads lead to Rhône ‘08

LIKE a swine snuffling truffles, I roved the Rhône via Berry Bros. & Rudd’s first ever tasting of that region ‘en primeur’ (wine sold before release).

The venue: 1 Great George Street, headquarters of the institute of civil engineers. Tattooed on the ceiling above linen wrapped tasting tables was a blazing scene commemorating the work of civil engineers in World War I.

From 16 producers of great repute, the wine that most impressed me was oddly the cheapest. At £8 (excluding duty and VAT) Jean-Louis Chave’s Côtes du Rhône ‘Mon Coeur’ also took mine, being improbably flash, flavoursome and concentrated – ‘which is what Côtes du Rhône should be like’, he said. Perhaps because it upstaged his other, massively more expensive wines, he appeared to keep the bottle swivelled label to the wall.

Recently acquired in rude health by the Cazes family of Bordeaux Château, Lynch-Bages (aka 'lunch bags'), Domaine des Sénéchaux’s expression of rare white Châteauneuf du Pape (£18 excl.) had a dazzling freshness. Incidentally, I bored representative, Malou le Sommer with my story of liberating a bargain ’99 Bages when trapped in a health farm...

Wines may be purchased from 5 March.

Befriending Mr. Dimbleby

‘WE WONDERED what fast food would be like in heaven,’ said Henry Dimbleby, co-creator of the eight strong ‘Leon’ chain of cafés in the capital (and another in Kent’s Bluewater mall). ‘We wanted to provide an alternative to cold sandwiches from clinical fridges, and the likes of KFC, where a moment’s pleasure is pursued by an afternoon of sleepy guilt. We’ve tried to recreate fast food’s visual cues and speed in a healthy, sustainable way, albeit without resorting to mung beans and calorie counting...’

So friendly that his wife describes him as having ‘social tourettes’, Dimbleby had summoned me for lunch at his first venue on Carnaby Street, which he opened and managed from July ‘04. Adhering to what I would interpret as a rather masochistic policy of ‘endeavouring to turn every complaint into sunshine’ (which must irk editors of concierge sites) I was the latest candidate for conversion.

So, what had gone wrong? After a frustrating day, I recently indulged in a faceless spat with Dimbleby via social networking site, ‘Twitter’. Leon’s food was ‘lacklustre’, I cantered into the keyboard, ‘aesthetically impoverished’ and ‘bland’ to boot. Exacerbating, three others chimed-in, complaining of meagre portions and over-enthusiastic nutritional claims...

We met at 1pm, although the customer facing clock was four minutes slow, a subtle suggestion that they could eke out more minutes of lunchbreak leave. Clad in a piped black velvet jacket, Dimbleby greeted staff like friends, telling a massive, but smiling muscle-bound waiter that he ‘doesn’t get smaller.’

Sipping Portuguese Sagres below a rain-pattered skylight, I took in the cosy dining room. Amongst the Technicolor decor sat a Technicolor clientele. Creatively hairy men shoe-horned into day-glo tank-tops and Uniqlo drainpipes rubbed narrow shoulders with near cat-walk fresh women. Reading my thoughts (or following my stare) Dimbleby mused, ‘I never thought Leon would attract so many gorgeous women. It wasn’t our intention to make it cool, because cool can be alienating. I think they like the idea of taking guiltless pleasure from our food.’

Walls were pasted with holiday snaps which spanned generations, including one of the original Leon, father of Dimbleby’s business partner, John Vincent. Looking bronzed and louche, he has apparently become ‘an unlikely pin-up for the gay community’ despite now being in his 70’s.

Mustering an impressive amount of enthusiasm for one who eats at Leon every lunch-time and twice-weekly for dinner, Dimbleby accurately anticipated my requirements, asking, ‘I expect you’d like the most flavoursome dishes?’

Freedom Chicken, Shades of Mackerel

Alas, things begun badly. On finally opening a pot of hummus, a child on the next table looked palpably distraught at its contents, only to be chided by his parent.

But what did I think? Dimbleby covered almost every inch of our wooden tabletop with boxes and tubs - but not one napkin! Lightly smoked mackerel (selected, apparently from a tasting of 13 types) was imaginatively served with earthy beetroot. Moroccan style minted lamb meatballs from a father and son run farm severed easily under my plastic fork. Shredded ‘freedom’ chicken nudged tenderly cooked veg from Reynold’s of Ridley Road. It came with a dip so thrillingly spicy that my nose ran. The producer endeared himself to Dimbleby and Vincent because ‘his hands were black from picking walnuts when we met him.’

Owing to limited space, more complex food is crafted at a central kitchen in Park Royal, including exceedingly good cakes like the Valrhona and orange brownie magicked from pulverised almonds rather than flour.

Compared to my experience at Spitalfields a year prior, portions seemed bigger and dishes, in large part, delicious. However, scoffing from cardboard still evoked the sensation of dining from an envelope. I also craved more moisture in the meatballs and overall, a sprinkle of salt.

Lunch also provided an opportunity to delve into Dimbleby’s past. He has been the ‘Peterborough’ gossip columnist for The Telegraph, staged under the legendary Bruno Loubet (although he is yet to scramble an egg) and (of less appeal, because I can’t fathom what they do) worked as a management consultant. In leaner times, he has lodged in rooms let by friend and seemingly unflappable restaurateur, Charlie McVeigh.

Aside from his own and McVeigh’s ventures, Dimbleby loves dining at Anthony Demetre’s ‘Arbutus’ and ‘Wild Honey’ restaurants, as well as Mitch Tonks’ ‘Seahorse’ in Devon (also top of my hit list). In talking up Tonks’ signature scallops with white port, he even admitted harbouring ‘a man crush’ for Britain’s most high profile fisherman...

Fans take note, another outlet is planned on High Street Kensington. Dimbleby also continues to move towards near complete recycling of packaging; indeed he captivated two antipodeans with an explanation of how water bottles spun from corn are biodegradable – ‘excellent miniature greenhouses when dug into soil.’ Admitting a phenomenal sweet tooth, he revealed a new pudding from April, a fairtrade organic banana split topped with nitrous oxide canister cream, toasted almonds and icing sugar. ‘I like the tension between naughtiness and nostalgia,’ he said, inadvertently summarising Leon’s whole philosophy. ‘In fact, I’m even thinking of taking all the other puddings off the menu and putting little cards on the table to draw in attention.’

Dimbleby is also holding a campaign to lure evening diners with candles and table service, a reasonably locally-sourced wine list, and chorizo and grilled chicken dishes.

Would I return? -If I was a time-poor office worker rather than a freelancer with flexibility, I could be drawn to Leon’s bright marketing and rejuvenated flavours. Whilst not quite my idea of fast-food heaven, it is several stages on from the competition of expensive identikit bready rectangles, intimidating portions of plastic-tubbed lettuce, mean pie fillings, not so fresh sushi and soulless soups...

Incidentally, in case you’re wondering how Dimbleby got into Twitter, then thank his TV Presenter friend, Richard Bacon. Bacon once sent a missive to followers asking whether Dimbleby should, as he desired, ‘put Bovril on the menu’. 70 people immediately said no.

www.leonrestaurants.co.uk/restaurants
www.twitter.com/henry_leon

Brittle Future

DESPITE the name, ‘glass’ magazine’s launch happened at the gloriously creaky, wooden ark of a department store, Liberty. Like amorphous panes, the publication ‘evokes a sense of clarity and simplicity, a feeling of lightness and timelessness; a source of reflection and protection’ says Editor, Nicola Kavanagh.

I cannot test this statement (no previews are available), although issue one’s cover suggests sensitively reigned-in glamour, classically rendered in matt black and white; a discreet barcode installed as the banded fuzz auguring a TV commercial break.

In a self-deluding attempt at blending-in with clumps of skinny, furred-fashionistas, I slip more Ciroc vodka/ginger beer/lime concoctions than prudent. I might have fared better had I stuck to the vino, Zette (Domaine de Lagrezette, Cahors) supplied by Jérome Jacober of Eminent Wines.

After queuing for a loo where civilians privates are filmed ‘for protection’, I get talking ‘at’ Jacober. On hearing my gentle connection with ‘Harpers Wine & Spirit’ magazine, he offers to send samples. ‘But that’s cold,’ I slur, ‘I’d rather hear the producer’s story than simply churn-out tasting notes.’

Lights are lit in my brain.

From glass, to what's in it...

In response to master of wine, Tim Atkin having his wine column ‘slashed’ in the new-look Observer, Circle of Wine Writers’ protégé, Rebecca Gibb recently rallied a global petition to ‘Save the Wine Column’ raising over 1000 members in no time at all. I hastily joined, having been ejected (and not replaced) from similar writing roles twice over the years.

Why, I wonder, are wine columns curtailing or concluding? Is it a reflection of temperance, thrift or confusion by consumers, or temperance, thrift and confusion by magpie commissioning editors? Alternatively, dare I suggest, is it the fault of wine journalists themselves?

Rather than the traditional ‘holiday photo’ approach by gastronome critics - expelling serial restaurant reviews as three courses over three acts / regurgitating multiple shades of white-to-red, wine tasting notes - I wonder, would readers prefer to digest a profile? Replacing technical bravado with a personal patina?

What if authors are more generous with atmosphere, taking readers on a journey into the bitter, stony grounds of winter vineyards, where gnarled, dormant vines reach along wires like crucified? Or hilarious tales of a winery dautchand sinking incisors into a journo’s leg? The joie-de-vivre imparted by an impromptu cellar feast using stolen broccoli and freshly hunted game? The pain of a paysan's dedication, igniting vineyard stoves against frost at 3am, or sampling nouveau at 7am? The potential to heighten wine's pleasure with art, music, or comedy? Or a deft, damning, impassioned critique of bulk swill?

Appreciating wine is a way of escape for most of us, not an autistic summation of scores for bores. If the wine column is as fragile as glass the material, and its demise as seemingly transparent, magic through a mesh of words, not trade petition, can save it...

‘My Sommelier’

IN THE the interests of furthering the appreciation of wine, you may now download a mini version of me – a kind of pocket dipsomaniac. Working with concierge site, Top Table, I have written a simple application for the I-Phone, advocating food and wine matches.

To download it for free, visit: http://iphone.toptable.com

Amongst the more idiosyncratic matches are: Lagrein with horse, and Hunter Valley Sémillon with chicken Kiev...

The Greek Food Lover

East Londoner, Elisavet Sotiriadou provides an authentic taster of Greek cuisine through hands-on cookery classes.

Where are you from?

I was born in Stockholm, although my parents come from Drama, Kilkis and Thessaloniki. The latter is the second largest city in Greece and its culinary capital. It has a substantial population of ‘Pontic’ people - Greeks who lived in the part of Turkey which was previously Greek until they were expelled in the 1922 catastrophe. In my opinion, Pontics possess a particularly developed savoir-faire, best expressed through their delicate dishes.

Why did you launch a Greek cookery school?

After 10-years living in London, I still hadn’t found a great Greek eatery. I launched my school as a hopefully inspiring solution. With the emphasis on fun, we cook, then consume classic Greek food, taking a portion home for lunch or dinner the following day as well as newfound skills and enthusiasm.

Is this your main career?

Even though the school is always on my mind, I work in music journalism, writing for two world and folk music magazines. I also prepare features for Swedish Radio. I used to work as a Producer for BBC World and News 24 mainly as a night-shifter. The Beeb’s canteen food was awful. Brimming with uplifting delights such as ‘spanakopittas’, my colleagues would comment on my ‘lunch’ boxes, which would actually be eaten at 3am! I’d often bring food for the team. I was particularly popular one Christmas when I made ‘Kourabiedes’ (Greek shortbread cookies) and ‘Baklava’ pastries.

Did family and friends support your endeavour?

A few people laughed at my idea, but I always felt I was onto something. My parents were initially shocked, wondering whether I would quit journalism for cooking. But they soon became excited when we went shopping for aprons, tea-towels and various kitchenware. In fact, before every class, I still consult my mum when finalising the menu. My cousins in Greece, and friends as far as Canada follow my adventures via my Facebook page (www.facebook.com/GreekCookery).

How did you begin?

A sixth-form college contacted me looking for someone to run their Greek class. I thought it must be about the Greek language. However, as our conversation continued, they kept returning to food. It got to the point where I said, “enough with food, let’s talk about the job!” Only then did they mention that I was actually meant to instruct non-Greeks how to prepare Greek dishes! They took me on and it went brilliantly.

What happened from there?

By the end of the course, I’d gained so much confidence from my students, who were a lovely, eclectic bunch. I felt I was offering something unique in London: how to prepare home-cooked Greek food to die for! So I rented a professional kitchen, advertising seasonal menus through social networking sites. A few months on, and we’re on our 25th class. I’m also in demand for team building days and celebratory events.

What are your most popular dishes?

The most surprising is mussles and Feta. When I describe this dish, I get very strange looks. However once people try them, shock metamorphoses fast into delight. I also love demystifying filo pastry – which can be easy to make. With 1.5kgs of aubergines per tray, my Moussaka is one of the hardest, but most satisfying dishes for students. Also, ‘Giaourtlou’ from Constantinople are impressive, sausage-shaped meatballs, crafted with baked tomatoes, peppers and a splash of yoghurt and paprika and pita bread into a tiny food tower.

What are your plans for the future?

As well as launching a cake-baking workshop and writing a recipe book, I’d love to hold classes outside of London. Food is the best way to communicate culture, and I’m determined to spread the tradition of great Greek food – one day it will be as famous as France or Italy’s culinary legacy...

Places cost £25/person, including four hours tuition and ingredients. Students need to bring containers to take food home and (preferably Greek) wine to enjoy during the class.

The next classes occur 8th and 22nd March.

For more information, e-mail: greekcookeryclass@gmail.com or follow Elisavet on Twitter (www.twitter.com/greekfoodlover).

Sampling Roux

I RECENTLY interviewed (Master)chef, Michel Roux Jnr. and his head sommelier at Le Gavroche, David Galetti for Harpers Wine & Spirit magazine. (Fear not, I have warned the venue to steady reservations for an ensuing stampede...)

You can read the feature by clicking on the links below.

> Page One <> Page Two <> Page Three <

I first visited the venue as a civilian back in October ’08, ironically unable to enjoy an oeschle of vino (review HERE).

Dining for the Devastated

In aid of survivors of January’s earthquake in Haiti - the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere - Sabrina Ghayour masterminded a fundraising banquet at Le Bouchon Breton restaurant, Spitalfields Market.

Are you a professional fundraiser?

No - I’ve spent the last decade working as an events organiser. Whilst the role has equipped me with relevant skills and confidence, sourcing every ingredient for a six-course feast for 180 through donation alone has been a challenge, the likes of which I’ve rarely experienced.

So this isn’t your first charity banquet?

Actually, I helped coordinate two previous projects for ‘Action Against Hunger’. I admire their ethos of striving towards ‘a world without hunger’, reaching 40 countries over three decades.

When I worked at the city’s ‘1 Lombard Street’ restaurant, we hosted the popular, amusing ‘Too Many Critics’ dinner. I also spearheaded a massive ‘Cake-Off’ competition at Taste of London, similarly sourcing donated ingredients and a bakery willing to craft 4,000 cakes to the recipes of critics, Charles Campion and Fay Maschler, and chefs, Antonio Carluccio and Giorgio Locatelli.

Have you been to Haiti?
I haven’t, and I suspect like many Brits, I rarely gave Haiti much thought before reportage of the disaster. But if I could get there and do something useful right now, I would, although I am aware how heart-breaking this could be.
How did you feel when you saw the breaking news of the initial earthquake, measuring 7.0 on the Richter scale?
I’m ashamed that my initial my response was, ‘oh dear, how terrible’. Only a couple of days later did the gravitas of the tragedy truly sink-in. I decided then to commit myself to doing something beneficial. Being a Capricorn, when I set my mind to something, there’s usually no turning back!

What logistical issues did you encounter?

It has been such a blur of lightning-speed occurrences that I can’t isolate anything specific. Looking back, the whole idea was bonkers; I must have had one too many coffees that afternoon! However, when I posted a one-line update on Facebook stating my intent, within five minutes I had my venue and a fleet of volunteers. I awoke the next morning with the thought, ‘you idiot, what have you got yourself into?’ But ‘fortune favours the brave’, as they say...

I found the more effort I put in, the more offers of help poured-in. At the start, I didn’t know whether I’d have a single prize to raffle, let alone 50!

How have friends/family reacted?

These kind of ‘short-lead’ projects can be a huge learning curve. You find out a lot about those around you. The most important thing is never to judge people on whether or not they choose to become involved. Having said that, most people who know me understand that this is exactly the kind of idea I would come up with and immediately showed faith.

Have you come up against criticism for raising money for food by decadently serving it?

Sadly, yes. In the first few days, I received some horrid e-mails, including one from a journalist who ‘found the concept of a feast in aid of starving people’ to be ‘genuinely disgusting.’ However, because the event featured top chefs (Atul Kochhar, Vickram Purewal, Chris Galvin, Herbert Berger and John Burton Race) it meant substantial media coverage and ultimately donations. Criticism is just an opinion. Whilst it hurts, you should always follow your heart and your instincts and do what feels right.

Looking back, have you surprised yourself by what you achieved in three weeks?

I’m still in shock. It doesn’t feel like it was something I did myself. But I guess when you know you have to do something, you close down mentally to the outside world and become a machine dedicated to executing the task at hand.

Did the chefs work well together?
I spent my time on the restaurant floor, so didn’t really get in on any juicy gossip. All I can say is that the food was fantastic, thankfully, so if there were any egos, they were clearly left at the door for this one.

Was there a favourite dish/wine match?

Galvin La Chapelle’s Chris Galvin received rave reviews for his buttermilk pannacotta with poached rhubarb. It was matched with a sweet elixir from Jurassic soils in France. I was busy with the auction, so was gutted at not being able to try it!

What was the most memorable auction item?

Incredibly, it wasn’t on the finalised inventory. Halfway through, chef John Burton Race approached the stage and offered us an incredibly generous weekend for four at his inn, ‘The New Angel’, Devon. It included a picnic on-board a Sunseeker gin palace, with Champagne, lobster and foie gras. As the final lot, I managed to eke £3k out of a very generous bidder.

What is your current total?

We are rapidly reaching £70k. But my work is not yet over. I fully intend to continue to raise funds and awareness.

Overall, are you touched by the generousity of the human spirit?

Beyond touched, Douglas. In many cases humbled, and in a couple of cases, moved to tears. It makes you realise that when people put their differences aside in pursuit of a common goal, much can be achieved in such little time. If only we could all be like this a little more often, the world would be a happier place.

What’s next?

Action Against Hunger has approached me to join their ‘Fine Wine Auction Committee’ to apply my special brand of ‘subtle motivation’ to proceedings. Of course, I am more than happy to commit. Right now, I have a long, long list of ‘thank-yous’ to post, which will keep me busy. A couple of days of relaxation would also be wonderful, although if I ever have a day to myself I get terribly bored.

I also continue to volunteer for the young charity, ‘Popli Khalatbari’, named in honour of a fellow Iranian. It’s well-known in the Persian Community and my mother works for it. Khalatbari died unexpectedly aged 30. Her mother, Diana now works tirelessly, raising money for hospitals, foundations and disaster funds worldwide, as well as building orphanages and schools for children with special needs in Iran. This lady is inspirational - creating something wonderful out of personal loss. (www.pkcf.com)

What more can we do to help Haiti's survivors?

Donate! Donate! Donate! Visit Action Against Hunger’s website (www.actionagainsthunger.org.uk) and give as generously as possible. Even £1 is better than none. Think of it as a candle in a dark room...

Destination Londres

LAST year, in conjunction with specialist tours firm ‘Urban Gentry’, I marshalled a culinary itinerary of the capital for Belgian journalist, Eric Verdonck. Hectic but flavoursome, here follows a link to his article.

>>Destination Londres: Nouveau paradis des gourmets<<

Bacchus Beside the Riverbanks

‘IT’S great to see the difference in your faces compared to a year ago,’ said Jeanette Brewer to an audience of fans, press and the odd bailed-out Yuppie banker. ‘Either you’ve just got used to having a difficult time, or you’ve finally climbed out of it...’

Escaping Friday night chaos outside, I had come to the London Bridge sequel of Farringdon’s South African restaurant, ‘Vivat Bacchus’. In the bottle-lined basement adjoining one of two cheese rooms and cellar, the witty, feisty mind behind Springfield Wine Estate was confidently exhibiting her range. ‘My father used to say, if you make tea with a good heart, it tastes better, so I never have to worry about talking-up my wines.’

Compared to our capital, Brewer’s town of Robertson, slumbering in the ‘valley of wine and roses’ must seem like paradise. ‘It’s beautiful and rustic with just one traffic light,’ she said. ‘We only use it on Sundays, so residents of the retirement home can cross to church. And that’s the only time there are accidents!’

Given a generous glass of Life From Stone ‘09 (or more specifically, life from quartz) and instructed to ‘please smell, smell, smell’, Brewer explained the style. Honouring her heritage as a ninth generation Huguenot émigré from the Loire, Springfield was one of the region’s first producers to sew Sauvignon Blanc – Sancerre’s white grape.

Uncorked exactly a year on from harvest, it was vibrant: flinty, steely and even slightly salty, its acidity cutting dexterously through a duo of raw rock oysters. In contrast to the one rather tediously smeared with shallot and red wine vinegar, the chilli, lime and garlic spiked bivalve was pleasantly provocative, retaining its taste whilst evoking a Margarita.

In another twist, fresh mackerel tart was successfully enlivened by mint, rhubarb stalks and another mild hit of chilli. Whilst Springfield’s benchmark un-oaked Wild Yeast Chardonnay ‘06 proved a cumbersome match, it was intriguing on its own. Aromas of fresh pineapple jostled candied pineapple on the palate, then cottage cheese and soured cream in the broad finish. Brewer followed with an anecdote, ‘When Noah made wine, he didn’t need a packet of artificial yeast.’ Fermented for a very un-commercial 70 days and curdling with nuances, Brewer explained, ‘there are around 300 families of yeast in our vineyards, and each leave their footprints of flavour.’ A relative newcomer to South Africa, apparently winemaker smugglers brought Chardonnay cuttings in suitcases during apartheid.

Being one of London’s few restaurants to offer South Africa’s emblem, the springbok (a fast antelope with a particular gait) I relished the chance to try roast haunch. The deep crimson coloured, musky meat was lean, served simply with crushed celeriac and béarnaise potatoes. It worked with the unfiltered, unfined Luddite of a blend, Work of Time ’02 - ‘a polite way of saying about f****** time,’ admitted Brewer of the 11-year journey to perfect a Bordeaux blend.

After only a nibble of cheese because I was still full from lunch, I sipped the dregs of another naturally crafted red, Whole Berry Cabernet Sauvignon ‘07 with a boozy cherry clafoutis. Made from uncrushed grape clusters, the uplifting result was high class Ribena.

South Africa’s 30 year-old ‘John Platter’ guide describes Springfield’s wines as risky and daring whilst consistently rewarding them with high scores.

I was surprised to learn that Harry Faddy, Vivat Bacchus’ 27 year-old chef (an alumni of Knightsbridge’s legendary ‘Racine’, albeit not under Henry Harris) had no direct experience of the Western Cape. However his menu had, in large part, thoughtfully provided a supportive role to Springfield’s bold, enduring wines and endearing ethos.

South Africa and Wine

The first harvest occurred 2nd February, 1659 – recorded in the diary of Cape Town’s founder, Jan van Riebeeck. A Dutch surgeon, Riebeeck believed grapes and wine could see off the scourge of scurvy in sailors on the spice route. But his successor, Simon van der Stel, had more hedonistic motivations, founding the legendary Constantia estate, a version of which is still championed by chefs like Michel Roux jnr. who matches the sticky elixir with tarte Tatin.

During the French Revolution, British Forces occupied the Cape, exporting its wines to acclaim across the empire. Vineyards expanded into the early 19th century in anticipation of prospectors of gold and diamonds, ultimately resulting in a surplus. To release the glut, the government encouraged co-operatives to take charge, most notably ‘KWV’ in 1918, controlling planting, production and marketing.

During apartheid, the wine industry was isolated, with little reason for innovation or quality control. The most widely planted grape, Chenin Blanc (‘Steen’) was selected more for its ability to make dry and sweet whites and also brandy than flavour and finesse (although it is capable of both).

Since apartheid ended in 1994, producers like Springfield have thrived with a gamut of previously scarce varieties. South Africa is now the ninth largest producer in the world, encompassing a growing number of Fair Trade wineries, female winemakers and wineries owned by the majority citizen, the black South African.

Compared to Australia and California, which began making marketable wines almost a century and a half on from South Africa’s plantings, the Cape’s heritage feels rather more old world than new.

Vivat Bacchus 4 Hays Lane, London Bridge / Springfield Estate / Find these wines on Wine-Searcher.com / Also published Foodepedia

Artist’s Eye on Rough Sleepers

LATELY, I fell into (and fast out of) the habit of accepting arbitrary invitations. Ghastly and good, two recent RSVPs concerned elevated venues - in opinion and altitude...

On Burns’ night, I scraped the sky at Centrepoint’s Paramount Club. Excepting the astonishing view, my abiding memory is of thick queues of boozy-floozies pressing towards the copper bar. Their goal (and in desperation, I admit mine), to down the sponsor’s gratis cocktails. Made from a base of ‘Monkey Shoulder’, I considered the mixologists effective camouflage of the vanillin, peaty, lively blend an affront to the Scotch. Outdoing the drink, its website has more spirit than the spirit, being infuriatingly populated by pixellated primates. The best part of the evening? -Pressing ‘G’ in the lift soon after an unconvincing ode to an absentee orb of sheeps pluck.

Taking refuge from rain later that week, I was almost struck by the outwardly sprung door of another lift. Ascending in the see-through cubicle to floor four of The Ivy’s club, where obnoxiously affluent celebrities ‘cling together’ like the creeper, I soon became sedated by the beaker of squashy, icy punch pressed into my palm. Alas, for the first hour of my visit, I genuinely had no idea why I was there. But unlike Paramount, it turned out to be an engaging evening.

The occasion: results day for an art competition launched by Artrepublic, online/offline stockists of exclusive prints. From 250 entrants, four finalists were competing for exposure via charity, ‘Streetsmart’. The organisation seeks to convert the additional £1 levied on participating restaurants bills in November/December into fodder for tummies of the hungry homeless. Since it was launched in 1998, it has come close to raising £4m. Stirling work, but with short ambitions? -There are, after all, 12 months in a year.

Ensuing a gutsy film about the artists, sadly obscured from my vision by the big hair experiments of a lanky audience, then the stern silence of anticipation, the judge’s decision was read. The winner: Grant Dejonge’s emotive figure of a sleeping child on a park bench, amongst an ominous thicket. The self-taught Dejonge, who lives with his wife and two children in Plumpton, Sussex, accepted the award with an emphatic ‘f****** thank you’. His work will now be replicated large on building canvases in Covent Garden and Brighton, visible to those suffering as its subject matter. Of those others short-listed, the stark, ghostly figure of a ‘Sleeper’ on brick by artist, ‘Stik’ was sensuously powerful.

Coincidentally, there is a relationship between rough sleepers way below the tall tower on Tottenham Court Road, with its VIP only members club. In January 1974 (36 years ago), homeless campaigners successfully occupied the building, keen to highlight how its vacant floors could ease the capital’s housing crisis. It must have seemed hard for all but the most heartless to refute their plea. In pursuit of a single tenant, its reclusive millionaire developer, Harry Hyams infamously deliberately kept the 32-storey building utterly untenanted for years. And even today, at least one floor remains free...

UPDATE (10/03): Grant's work has been rendered 7x3 metres at London Graphic Centre, Shelton Street, Covent Garden, where it will remain until end May. Signed prints are available at ArtRepublic (all proceeds to StreetSmart).

See the finalists / Streetsmart / Also published Foodepedia

Flavours from Frost and Fire

PICTURED: winemaker, Andrew Hardy’s first vintage of Petaluma Clare Valley Riesling, 1983.

In the wake of ‘huge bush fires’ in a year also ‘nailed by frost’, this survivor comes from the Hanlin Hill vineyard and in this instance, parcels further afield - to compensate for extreme conditions. Shimmering deep gold, it had the initial aroma of old gloss paint lid, then fresh cream and toasted meringue. On the delicate, moderately alcoholic palate, it tasted of white toast spread with lime marmalade with a long, angular, mineral finish. Perfect, no doubt, with a roast lobe of foie gras. Tasted in Hardy’s company at Bibendum’s offices, he ‘wished it had been better preserved under-screwcap’ (as all current releases) rather than cork.

Sparkling Tales from the Boudoir

IT’S NOT every day one dines in David Moore’s bedroom, albeit now converted into the private dining room at ‘Pied-à-Terre’, Charlotte Street. The décor, best described as subdued theatrical, is based around a glossy glass table – apparently delivered by a gauche builder who filled inevitable cracks with a handy tube of epoxy. This is echoed by an identical ceiling plate (minus the fractures) from which a beaded light awning dangles, warmly drenching diners like balls on pool table baize. By contrast, a hellish, hectic, bloodly Howard Hodgkin’s scene sharply contrasts a tall, gilt-edged dolls house, now doubling as a glass store.

I had been lured to the former boudoir of the respected restaurateur and judge of TV’s ‘The Restaurant’ with the promise of fizz. And I was not alone. A cast of culinary icons, including chefs, Pierre Koffman, Thierry Tomasin and Rowley Leigh; front of house notables, Silvano Giraldin and Enzo Cassini, and Champagne authority, Michael Edwards had gathered to hear the venerable Madame Vranken of Champagne house, Pommery gently guide us through a truffle-themed menu.

But gazing down at the silver sauce spoon, I felt trepidation. I wondered whether chef Shane Osborn’s style, which I had only glimpsed during a special menu with Brett Graham at Selfridge’s Gallery, would approximate the damp, fussed, overly ambitious food of his protégé, Marcus Eaves (head chef at Moore’s more recent ‘L’Autre Pied’, Marylebone). Of Eaves, I perhaps cruelly once remarked, ‘I really got a sense of his personality spunkily blasting through onto the puréed, emulsioned, foamed and moussed plates - great fare for denture-adventurers...’

Brut Revival

And despite noble origins - Madame Pommery must be Champagne’s best-known widow after the veuve Clicquot, carving 18kms of cellars, inventing the brut style and mastering export - I had reservations about the quality of the wine today. Since the Pommery family ceased running the house three decades before, the brand, unloved was banded around multiple owners, most recently from luxury behemoth, ‘Louis Vuitton Moet Hennessey’ (note, handbags go first), to Vranken in 2002 – albeit only after they stripped its vineyards away. After ethereal pastry canapés served in the deep carpeted upstairs bar with invigorating, sherbet-scented, grapefruit zesty Brut Apanage, we sat down to distractingly good scallops. Sealed to crisp perfection, but almost impossibly tenderly centred, the saline morsels wittily nudged chicken oysters, or ‘sot-l’y-laisse’ (‘only a fool would leave it’). They were so gently extricated and carefully cooked that at least one guest suspected them of being the scallops missing roes. On the palate, these reacted well with brisk, momentarily braised baby gem lettuce, shiny under cosy lemon balm essence. Alas the promised hit of black truffle, which must have been crushed over the ‘oysters’, was remote.

Regardless, unlike Eaves’ preference for space food, I was so delighted to find texture – to hear my teeth bite – that I admitted my previous negative experience to Moore. Possibly because the capably fearsome television judge now felt meek under the potential judgement of so many of his peers, and possibly because he was seduced by the gently tinted Apanage rosé, modelled by cellar-master, Thierry Gasco on a formula from 1928, he didn’t scald me. Instead he revealed a paternal tenderness towards his charges. ‘They’re so young at L’Autre Pied, handling the pressure of a £1m turnover and critical expectation – just kids really compared to us at Pied-à-Terre.’

176 Shades of Pink?

The world may never know how many shades of pink there are, although this barely ripe, raspberry flavoured wine looked too light to sell according to the burly Tomasin (of Paddington’s ‘Angelus’). He feared diners would think it an oxidised white on sight rather than a delicate pink. Disregarding Pantone, I thought it lithe, dry and delicious and absolutely refreshing between mouthfuls.

The next dish: paper white, meltingly leafing poached halibut, moist beneath a thin but deeply satisfying truffle crust. It was adorned with pert green beans, Pommery mustard and a ragout of ‘crosnes’, which whirring pixellated internet brain Google tells me are mild tubers. Eyes on my dish, Moore looked forlorn. ‘I’ve never eaten that – if I go near halibut or seabass, I’ve got 15-minutes before I become very ill indeed.’

Bringing a tinge of slightly tart briar fruit, and being the weightiest wine so far, Wintertime Blanc de Noirs, a white made from red grape juice not shown the skins (part of the four seasons collection launched in the ‘90’s) meant the best, most even-powered match so far. The most profound marriage however, was gamey, poached and roasted guinea fowl breast with buttery truffled leeks, oyster mushrooms, crisp confit garlic parcels (on par with maze Grill’s) and lustrous foie gras sauce. Named after Madame Pommery’s daughter, the slick, toasted hazelnut scented 11-year-old Cuvée Louise acted on the palate as a plate, i.e. always present and supportive under the food’s flavours and textures.

Fame

During the cheese course of carefully kept Comté vieux and Brillat-Savarin, I asked Moore how he coped with television stardom. He said: ‘I remember watching the first series of ‘The Restaurant’ and thinking “I could do that.”’ Having risen, as a young man, to the role of head waiter at ‘Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons’ (then unheard of as a Brit), he was already known and trusted by patron, Raymond Blanc. ‘So that is what I did.’ But does fame have drawbacks? ‘I seem to change the dynamic if going into a meeting of professionals, like, sommeliers, and can be seen as an outsider by my peers. There was also the time an old lady recognised me as I sank my teeth into a McDonald’s burger. She expressed horror, but I just smiled coyly and whispered, “Ssshh!”’ A confidently minimalistic tile of plain chocolate tarte had the spring of velour. Made only with Chardonnay, Falltime Extra Dry (which is actually rather sweet) added a honeysuckle edge to the bitter cocoa.
Over the four-hour lunch, conversation topics had rolled into amusing territory, with many nods and tuts reserved for a Pakistani mango farmer turned culture minister. Now deceased, the hedonist apparently plagued haute cuisine restaurants with his laissez-faire approach to reservations. Moore said, ‘at le Manoir, he used to phone to announce he was taking junction 8A (our turning) and expected a table. When told we were full, he insisted on speaking to the sommelier, blithely enquiring, “so how many bottles of Pétrus ‘45 do you have?”’

Revolving Restaurant

Osborn holidaying under the sun, his sous chef had cooked a standout lunch. As we stepped onto a dusky Charlotte Street, fatter and more bubbly than before, Koffman gestured to the BT Tower, whose revolving restaurant is expected to open soon. ‘They asked me to do it’, he said, ‘although honestly, it won’t need a name.’ In my albeit limited experience of fizz-only menus, the craving for a full-blooded red simply exacerbates with each flute. However, despite being jilted in recent history, eight years on from Vranken’s acquisition, what was arguably Champagne’s most progressive estate seems fighting fit...

PIED Á TERRE 34 Charlotte St., London / CHAMPAGNE POMMERY / Find wines at WINE SEARCHER / Also published FOODEPEDIA