Khool French Kitchen

Last weekend I found myself at another foodie event at the Literature Festival, 'Lunch with Rachel Khoo'. The British born kitchen queen, who actually has a degree in Art & Design from Central Saint Martins (yep - art & food - pretty much THE dream), is famed for cooking in her tiny Parisian apartment, where, in days gone by, she hosted intimate supper clubs for just a handful of people. Lured to the French capital by the exquisite patisserie, she studied pastry at Le Cordon Bleu, and has since thrown herself into the world of food. Her first TV show/cookery book 'The Little Paris Kitchen' was a global success, and with the release of her new book 'My Little French Kitchen', this event gave her the chance to divulge more about it, along with the attendees being able to taste a few of her recipes.

I suppose it was more like an 'in conversation with..' kind of thing, and the interviewer, who seemed like a less orange David Dickinson, started off very straight to the point. "There are so many cookbooks around these days, so why should we buy yours?" Phwoar. Bombshell. Luckily, Rachel is just as she appears on TV - very bubbily with a strong personality - so she was able to cope.

What sets her apart from the endless stream of newly published books, is her sincere approach. You can tell from the size of her miniscule working space that she doesn't have a hell of a lot of equipment, and there's definitely no room for all the high-tech gadgets that do really cheffy things, so in turn, none of her recipes require us to have any of that stuff either. Some pots and pans, a good sharp knife, and some stirring utensils are all we need, she says, and if we top it off with good ingredients, then we're all set.

For the book, Rachel visited six different regions of France - Brittany, Bordeaux, Basque, Provence, Lyon and Alsace - where she'd gone out to meet the locals and the food producers, be it in their homes, on farms or at markets, etc. She immersed herself in their cultures, their traditions, and most importantly, their cuisines, and taking inspiration from each of these, she's stacked up a list of over one hundred of her own recipes that give us a food tour of France that we can recreate at home. Unlike Paris, which has that all-year-round touristy perfection when it comes to food produce, the regional areas thrive on the histories behind what they make, and use the seasons to dictate what is best to eat when. This is evident from the herby, floral dishes of Provence, or the spice-laden, festive eats from Alsace, to the rich, hearty gastronomy of Lyon.

Being asked if she's here to "fight for real food", she responded by saying it was more like a mission to discover and reveal the stories behind the food that our European neighbours eat; it's not all fine dining and complicated cooking, and no matter how hard you look, there are certainly no frogs legs here. Rachel's key is enjoyment, she wants us to take pleasure in following her recipes, whether they're the easy pop-it-all-in-one-pan-and-hey-presto kind of thing, or the slightly more refined, take-your-time-to-impress-your-friends extravaganza. In both instances, the recipes are short and simple, and where she's used french ingredients, she has listed English alternatives, so everything is do-able.

The book itself is a thing of beauty, and its clear to see that Rachel takes great pride in being part of the whole creative process - she's even responsible for all the cute little illustrations that run throughout. The photographs are all shot on location, straight after cooking, and the crew eat what was made straight after, there is no faffing around with food styling, and everything is done under natural light, which gives the whole thing a fresh feeling. She stipulates that she's "not just a pretty face", and even when it comes to the TV show, she doesn't just turn up and read a script, like many others do; she does it in her own way, and that's very honest.

Talking of honesty, Rachel admits to being a fully fledged croissant snob; it has be the butteriest, flakiest, most delicious one she can find. There's no point in having a crap one, when you secretly know that there are better ones in existence, as it will only end in disappointment. Which leads to questions on health; the French cuisine isn't exactly known for being 'light', so how does she stay looking so fabulous? Whilst "butter is better", it's all about quality over quantity, she'll have her cheese, wine, pastries, etc, but just not all the time. Actually, she tells us that the French are very much anti-snacking, and it's almost unacceptable to be seen eating in the streets. It doesn't matter if its a freshly made baguette, still warm from the oven, with the glorious boulangerie aromas wafting in your face, you must push those temptations aside. It's basically social suicide.

Being put on the spot once more, ol' Dickinson asked what he should go home and make from the book this Autumnal evening. A few umm's and ahh's, then some sticky ribs cooked in cassis, with a broad bean cous cous, was suggested. Failing that, what we were having for lunch would be perfect: Poulet Roti au Vin Rouge - or Roast Red Wine Chicken to the rest of us - a boozy bird from Bordeaux, with crisp potatoes, and plenty of herby vegetable accompaniments. If this was anything to go by, 'My Little French Kitchen' is set to be a winner, and even cooked for the masses, it was delicious.

Dessert was the Chocolate Basque Beret; a genoise sponge encased in a rich chocolate ganache, coated with chocolate orange shavings. We're told that the black beret is the sartorical symbol of the Basque region, so that's where the inspiration for the cake comes from. Rachel pre-warned us that this was for serious chocaholics, rich and doused in syrup, however, luxurious as it was, it didn't quite come across as this. Nevertheless, it's made me want to try and make it for myself, so by letting us sample a couple of dishes, this whole promo-event has done it's job. 

Book purchased and signed, this weekend I'm all set to gastro-trip around France in the comfort of my own home. I best go get my stripey shirt back out.  

Breakfast with Malcolm Eggs

Early Saturday morning, day two of Cheltenham Literature Festival, and luckily I had tickets for 'The Full English'; a talk with Seb Emina about his new book 'The Breakfast Bible', with added brekkie no less.

I didn't initially have this of my list of things to go to during the ten day event, but after talking to a friend about it, it went straight to the top. Being a massive lover of breakfasts in all shapes and sizes - those crafty little nibbles on the go, long luxurious weekend treats, and even a simple bowl of cereal - why would I not want to go to hear more about this eating ritual we do day in, day out.

To give a little potted history about Seb Emina; it was mid noughties, and whilst there was a great deal of emphasis on food culture and eating out, this only ever seemed to apply to lunch and dinner. Having a love of going out for breakfast, but being riddled with disappointment in all those places that were making just half arsed attempts at it, he took it upon himself to start a blog where he could write about his experiences. So with a pseudonym of Malcolm Eggs, and a band of brothers (and sisters) - called the likes of Blake Pudding, Shreddie Kruger, Dr Sigmund Fried, etc - he coined The London Review of Breakfasts, who are still hungrily munching their way through the cafés of the capital.

You may have heard about Seb recently, on Radio 4's Today Programme he posed the idea that people should never feel obliged to talk at breakfast, and that we shouldn't be offended if the room is completely silent, which then escalated - like a game of Chinese Whispers - to people quoting him to have said that 'couples should not talk at breakfast'. The newspapers got hold of the story, it was printed front page, and even Loose Women got in touch, but of course it was just a statement misconstrued. What he was really getting at was that we should use this time in the morning as a bit of leisure time before we shoot off and go to work; many of us lead such busy lives today, to the point where we might often skip breakfast or just eat on the go, but really we should take the time to sit and enjoy it. This may be solitary time, or time shared, you can just stick the radio on, read the newspaper, and not feel as though you should have a deep conversation, when really you're probably still just waking up. Look at James Bond for example, he's the master of solo breakfasting, but no one questions him; but then again, why would you, he's 007 after all.

'The Breakfast Bible', as the title suggests, tells us everything we need to know about breakfast. From extensive research, *cough* eating a lot, there are apparently nine ingredients which create the perfect 'Full English', that truly British dish; bacon, sausage, egg, mushrooms, tomato, black pudding, baked beans, bread (either toasted or fried) and finally, some sort of potato goods, in most cases a hash brown. Potato seemed to be a somewhat controversial ingredient on the list, particularly when bubble and squeak is suggested, though Seb kindly reassured us (not that I needed convincing) that it's a great way to smuggle greens onto your predominantly beige plate, 'a Trojan Horse for cabbage' if you will.

Thinking about other morning foods; we eat a lot of cereal, it's kind of the ideal breakfast in terms of quickness and ease, or maybe we go traditional with porridge (it was coincidentally the Golden Spurtle World Porridge Championship that day). But if we were to look globally, there doesn't seem to be the same kind of breakfast culture that we have here. On the continent you'll find pastries with meats and cheese, America goes big with lots of sweet/savoury combinations (think pancakes, bacon, maple syrup.. mmm), the far east have rice based dishes, and there are lots of spicy egg options amongst other flavour-loving countries, but essentially most of them tend to eat similar things to what they may have had the night before; there doesn't seem to be that, distinctly different to dinner, repetative eating that us Brit's do. 

So, what else can we find in the book? There's a list of songs that are perfect for boiling an egg to, all of which are just the right time depending on your runniness needs; we're told Kate Bush's Wuthering Heights, or Pulp's Common People are great for soft boiled yolks. A substantial section talks about 'Hair of The Dog', which is quite commonplace amongst weekend breakfasters, and has a long tradition dating back to Homer's Odyssey. Drinks range from the famous Bloody Mary, which just takes the edge off of the morning, to a deadly sounding Corpse Reviver, probably the thing to drink if you want to get back on it. It's packed with recipes, advice, and random facts, such as famous last breakfasts, and strange cereals of the 80s. Like it's subject, this really is the most important book of the day.

A Q&A followed the talk, which gave us an extra insight into the breakfast aficiondo. It turns out he's not a fan of brunch; "it's breakfast grabbing the territory formerly occupied by lunch." And don't even talk to him about breakfast in bed, admitting he has a crumb phobia, he'd much rather be sat eating at a table, he hates that feeling of being "prisoned by kindness with a tray." 

Obviously we all want to know where the best place to go is, and after plenty of umm-ing and ahh-ing, where you could pretty much see his brain sizzling away, he simply said that those typical greasy spoons, with a constant stream of taxi drivers coming through the door, are your best bets. However, if you want something a bit more exravagant, try the new restaurant in The Shard, where he can recommend the eggs benedict, or perhaps The Hawksmoor, which seems to be bringing back the old school stuff like kidneys and liver. Just don't go to Macdonalds though, yeah?

With a nod to the bible, out came a nine piece Full English. Alas, there was no solo breakfasting here - Bond would not be impressed. Instead we shared a table with stangers, all chatting away about their own personal ideas of best breakfasts; it's clearly a subject which divides opinions. Seb knows this though, and when asked what's next on his agenda, he said there's still room for more explanation.. How eggs-citing.  

Chow Down with The Booze Hound

I haven't really done any fantastic foodie finds in the past few weeks, mainly thanks to the fact that it felt like it should have been the end of the month ages ago, but when a friend came down to stay at the weekend, and with payday in sight, it was my obligation to show her the delights of Cheltenham and where I like to go to eat and drink.

After a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs on toasted spelt bread, courtesy of Bath's Bertinet Bakery found in Waitrose, our first port of call was a trip up Bath Road to pick up some fish for dinner. Thinking of dinner as soon as we've finished breakfast, a typical occurrence in our home; we've always got our minds on our next meal. Anyway, it's probably been months since I first spotted a gorgeous teal painted shop front halfway down Bath Road, and when the sign went up saying 'Fishmongers', I couldn't contain my excitement. Sure, supermarkets now sell a variety of fish, and there is the Padstow Fish man at the market on certain days of the week - who I always manage to miss, or get there too late - but not a proper shop, an independent one, with regular staff who you can trust to help and advise you on how to make the most out of the produce you buy. Samphire opened last Thursday, and unlike a traditional fishmongers, it has a Japanese feel to it; with sashimi grade fish fillets and homemade sushi ready to take away. There was an good selection, from the usuals like cod and mackerel, to eels, razor clams and even a couple of elegant looking lobsters, subtly moving their legs through the ice - blink and you'll miss it. We chose some sprightly sea bream, which was kindly filleted for us whilst we carried on window shopping. With it's industrial lighting, tables and chairs to sit at whilst you wait, and bunches of flowers dotted about, this is definitely a contemporary fishmongers, and one to visit regularly. (P.S. I know the picture's mackrel, not the sea bream I bought..)

Next on the agenda was a trip to Tivoli Wines for a little gin tasting; no weekend would be complete without gin now, would it? Warner Edwards, a newbie in the British spirit scene, was being promoted in the shop, by none other than Tom Warner himself - half of the distillery team. We learnt about the start up of the business, and how the pair (Sion Edwards is the other half) converted an old barn at Tom's family farm in Northamptonshire, where they installed a big copper pot still, called Curiosity, who helps them make their Harrington Dry Gin. Neutral grain spirit is blended with 11 botanicals, including juniper, cardamom, corriander, nutmeg, elderflower - pretty unusual - and a secret ingredient, which no amount of bribing will make him divulge. This is then mixed with natural spring water, found just 300 metres from the distillery door. Overall, its quite a spicy, peppery gin, which still retains it's smoothness, and distinguishes it from others that are currently on the market.

With such enthusiasm about their technique and hand crafted product - even the bottles are labeled, sealed, and tied with copper wiring by hand - you can tell that this is something they've really invested into; a true labour of love.  (They also make an Elderflower Infused Gin.. Yum!)

A few samples down, and with it being well past midday, it felt acceptable to go for an afternoon cocktail. The Daffodil in the Suffolks is possibly the go to place for a beautifully made drink in a stunning setting. If you don't know about it, the building dates back to the 1920's, being Cheltenham's first purpose built cinema. As times changed and competition grew, it sadly closed in early 60's, and became a number of different things - such as a bingo hall, an antique centre - up until 1989 when it was left abandoned. It was bought in 1996 by a local restaurateur who saw it's potential, and after an extensive renovation, where many of it's original fittings and features were restored, it re-opened as a dramatic dining room two years later. It's Art Deco design makes it one of Cheltenham's iconic landmarks.

We sat in one of the booths in the circle bar; a mezzanine overlooking the busy restaurant and open kitchen below, there was even some live jazz to add to the theatre of the whole shebang. As expected, the chap ordered the strongest thing possible, a Martini, pure alcohol weakened only by the oils from the orange peel. My friend also chose from the Martini page, a Charlie Chaplin, sloe gin, apricot brandy and fresh lime. It's sweet/sour combination makes it slip down so easily, and I could happily drink these all day despite the fact they're pretty much just booze; so maybe that's where the name come from, it silently intoxicates.. I went for the Soyer au Champagne, literally translated to 'silk with champagne'; Remy Martin VSOP, Grand Marnier, Maraschino Liqueur, homemade vanilla ice cream and champagne. A grown-up, upper-class version of a coke float if you like - delicious.

Nearing 3 o'clock, we'd completely skipped lunch, and, not wanting to spoil our lovely fish dinner, we only fancied some nibbles. So, off to our favourite haunt, John Gordons, for wine and charcuterie - a winning combination. (Though if my other half had his way, whisky would be involved; they have an incredible selection.) We went for a bottle of New Zealand Pinot Noir, a popular choice amongst the regular winos, and at £22.50, it's definitely not your average plonk. With dark fruit flavours and spicy notes, this medium bodied wine would be a good one for those who don't like it too heavy. There were four different meats on our charcuterie plate - prosciutto, chorizo, salami, and some sort of german styled one - and it came with a healthy supply of bread, sundried tomatoes and pickles. Perfect for soaking up all the wine.

Needless to say, the rest of the day progressed as it had started; more wine, prosecco, and some food in between. A bit of a spruce up and we hit the town with only one place in mind, The Tavern. I don't know why, but we always end up here when we've had a skinful, when we probably should have stopped two drinks ago. I think its the atmosphere that draws us in, along with the top notch alcohol selection (and food if you're hungry). I can get very funny about eating/drinking in places which are super quiet, or have an odd arrangement of customers, but whether you come here day or night, The Tavern is always booming. Anyway, on top form, we arrived drunk, but it really doesn't matter here; the staff are friendly and chatty, the people eating are too content to notice anything that's happening around them, and there's a DJ playing beats to the crowd of people hustled at the bar. To be honest, I can't really remember what happened from here, other than my cocktail was in a vintage-y glass.. We'll leave it there.

A late start and decent hangovers lingering over our heads, the only sure fire remedy would be a Sunday roast, and thankfully we had a table reserved for lunch at The Ragged Cot, Minchinhampton. Nestled high on the Cotswolds, we've tried to come here for food on a Sunday before, and, with the car park jam-packed, we knew we'd leave with empty tummies. But from a sneaky look at what was going out of the kitchen, and being awed by the taxidermy on the walls, we knew we'd have to return.

Three roasts - one chicken, one gammon, one lamb - with perfectly puffed up yorkies, crispy seasoned spuds, herbed mixed veg (nicely al dente), a boat of rich meaty gravy, and a 'hair of the dog' shandy, then we were sorted. Probably not the best roast I've ever had - you can't beat your parent's ones can you - but it was bloody good.