Friday, 12 August 2011

[Event - Fair] The Danson Park Khanom Massacre; Visit Thai Festival of Bexleyheath

Location - Danson Park - Bexleyheath, Kent [UK]

Before the food from my last ridiculous eatscapade had so much as even cleared my oesophagus allowing me to take my first gasp of non-food obstructed air, I found myself at yet another mindless indulgence of the calorific kind. This one was another of the country-centric variety, this time concentrating on a particularly endearing cuisine to me: Thailand. Precariously, the main area of interest, were the Khanom Wan Thai's - Thai Desserts. My downfall. My weakness. My sworn, delicious, enemy.

As usual, boredom played its part in relenting this onslaught of calories unto me once again - in another fit of cerebral nullity, I lurked forth onto Google pondering as to whether or not the United Kingdom held any Food Festivals of note, particularly of the international kind, as it would give some cheaper interim scope on trying out the world's delicacies. Unfortunately Google did not help by throwing plenty of results and thus providing ample opportunity to gorge. And one was located a mere 30 miles away. May as well..

Having researched broadly on Thai cuisine, I was immediately struck by a solitary notion - despite having gone to Thailand for a Spring Holiday in 2000, everything I had turned up was completely alien to me. Was there really a culinary scene in Thailand beyond Tom Yam soup and Sweet & Sour Pork?! C'est Impossible! Whilst my memory tends more towards the Goldfish spectrum of useless, there are sporadic pivotal moments in time I do occasionally recollect - I remember many from being in Thailand, including one of my sisters' meals considering of Shark steak at Ko Phi Phi Island. For me? Squat. Diddly. Just Tom Yam and Sweet & Sour Pork. Obviously something that would have to be rectified. Just, why did it have to be during this period of perpetual self-taxidermy (>_<). Without a Guide or a Plan in order to structure meals, I packaged a notepad in order to provide some semblance of systematic proceedings to the gorging, and a camera to attempt to keep my hands too busy to create a food-engorging vortex at the stalls. This would prove fruitless.




Som Tam Salad vying to divert attention in vain from the legions of curries
Khanoms, khanoms, khanoms.
Caught in the moment - awesome meets awesomer

As the above pictures show, only three pictures were managed, before I could resist no more. Despite lunch still being at least an hour away. I feel no shame. Just fat.

As there was no real structure to proceedings other than to hoard, destroy and eat everything in sight, I shall just list yet another chronological kill list, with a small excerpt reviewing the victims, though it would must likely take form of the attempted articulation of guttural noises:





~ The First Ones to Cease ~

  • Lod Chong Nam Ka Ti [ลอดช่องน้ำกะทิ] - Pandan Noodles with Sweetened Coconut Milk



Duped into this one thinking it was a light, refreshing drink. It was glorious. As it has a basis of coconut. As with seemingly everything else in Thailand. Devoured rather quickly, and annoyingly, rather filling, considering it was nowhere near lunch time just yet. Essentially just a chilled coconut drink with some largely flavourless but nicely chewy noodles
  • Khao Pod Tod [ทอดมันข้าวโพด] - Sweetcorn Fritters
Corn, Batter, Deep Fried. I challenge anything wrong to be found with that trifecta. So it turned out - delicious. Very sweet corn aroma still permeated through despite the torture of being deep fried, and despite that, not heavy at all, as there was not a great deal of batter seeing as the fritters are only loosely shaped by dint of the awkward nature of the kernels. The chilli sauce, pleasantly NOT of the neutered bottled variety, added only a slight and well judged hint of sweetness and a spicy zing to cut through. Lovely. And my token vegetable serving!



~ The ones that made it home ~




  • (On the plate) Sai Krok Isaan [ไส้กรอกอีสาน] & Moo Ping [หมูปิ้ง] - Northern Thai Sausage & Barbecued Pork on Skewers

A rather ubiquitous selection, seeing as they were evident at basically every one of the food stalls, my selection naturally fell on the first one came across. The sausage was reasonable, and I am now safe in the knowledge that vampires will not trouble me, seeing as the sausage was predominantly made of garlic. Almost overpoweringly so, but it was still rather nice. And also rather versatile in its dual purpose as vampire deterrent. The skewered pork, whilst being the most annoying thing ever to remove from the skewer, was lovely - just the right amount of sweetness, combined with a nice char, and it's barbecued. So, not really much to go at fault, even if they tried.


  • Khanom Gluay [ขนมกล้วย] & Kaek Hao Phak Kad [เค้กหัวผักกาด] - Banana Pudding & White Turnip Cake
 
A lunchtime dessert and portion of vegetables respectively [or so I convinced myself], these were merely meant as supplements and as such, was not expecting too much. Au contraire however, the banana pudding being rather quite, ironically, banana-y, down to all the veins evident in the flesh. Rather hearty and enjoyable, other than for the fact of knowing just how sugary banana is. The turnip cake was a surprise, predominantly as I had no idea what turnip would taste like - it was suggested all it needs is a bit of soy sauce, but I beg to differ, as it was just fine on its own. Not a spectacular morsel, but it was nice all the same - almost a bit like cassava in taste, without the dreaded carbs! Ergo, win.
  • Khao Tom Mud [ข้าวต้มมัด] - Banana Leaf-wrapped Steamed Banana & Sticky Rice Cake
A dessert, wrapped in a charred banana leaf, not that any further excuse were needed to indulge. Plus it was available at the first stall, so replete with added convenience. What emerged was a dinky and delicious looking sticky rice cake, with a filling of banana - wow. Why sticky rice has never so much as merged into my life previously [apart from the one isolated occasion long ago, no idea where/when/why/whom] is unbeknownst to me - it is awesome. Especially when steamed, forming a dense cake, and with the charred side of the leaf allowing a bit of a crunchy layer, even multi-textured! A light coconut profusion just ups the scale.
  • Takoh Bai Toey [ขนมตะโก้เผือก] - Coconut Cream Jelly
Straying ever further into the realm of "the hell is that?!" desserts, this little treat combined a world of complimentary flavours in a tiny little parcel that at once, seemed so right. Obviously, being topped by coconut cream, again, it was right anyway. Combining a coconut cream topping a water chestnut jelly with a couple of kernels of sweetcorn, the sweet and savoury combination was exquisite. The light jelly and coconut cream provided a gentle sweetness to the crunch and earthiness of the corn to create just, a rather lovely surprise. 
  • Khao Niew Sangkaya [ข้าวเหนียวสังขยา] - Sticky Rice with Custard Slice
More sticky rice, therefore more unabated approval. This time topped with a slice of custard. Random? Perhaps, but another great combination - the sticky rice being red in this example proved a bit earthier and more savoury, which just worked perfectly with the dense, egg custard, adding just a little crunch as well for good measure. Lightly sweet, to the benefit of my long overdue bout of crippling diabetes with this influx of desserts, quite a different yet endearing treat. Though I would say that of sticky rice topped with entrails. Sticky rice has the power of boundless ability to create bliss from skank. 
  • Khanom Chun [ขนมชั้น] - Coconut & Pandanus Leaf Jelly
One I was not expecting much from, yet seemed to over deliver. Fairly sure the first time such a thing could be said of jelly. Finally after battling with the spidey-web levels of stickiness, the first bite through the incredibly dense jelly revealed. Heavenly coconut. Hence, heart. To remain objective though, this was supplemented by just a hint of a grassy, earthy tone, presumably from the pandanus leaf juice. This one enticed more with its peculiar texture than anything, as the flavouring was nicely subdued, but nevertheless, still a pleasurable treat. This is getting boring, as it would mean nothing would be thrown away. Hmph.
  • Khanom Mor Gaeng, I think [ขนมหม้อแกง] - Egg custard slice
Being presented with a brick, which I overhead being "Custard", it was yet another blind enterprising whilst lunging the first bite. I overhead correctly - a nicely rich, obviously egg based custard. Not much else really to be added. It was eggy. It was sweet. There's a lot of it. It's annoyingly nice. NEXT. 
  • Foi Tong [ฝอยทอง] - Sweetened Egg Yolk Strands
By dint of its rather orthodox ingredients list[Egg yolk. Sugar. Plastic Container Holding it. Sticker on Box denoting the ingredients. Air in container.], I was expecting a rather monochromatic experience. And largely it is what I received. It was very yellow.

*Cough*

Whilst oddly not tasting rather emphatically of just egg, more egg, and then some egg again, its crunchy texture was rather quite peculiar. It was like eating crispy seaweed. In fact, its taste was not too dissimilar to the sweetened crispy seaweeds. Just, eggier. However, in being just a bit too sweet, it was perhaps my least favourite of all the hoards of desserts amassed, but that is not to undersell it, as it is in excruciatingly decadent company. Bah. 


  • Khanom Mun [ขนมมัน] - Coconut & Sweetened Cassava Morsels
A recently introduced food item to me, and one which I rue as it has almost been exclusively presented to me in the particularly healthy inclination of being deep-fried as tempura, not that its inherently nefarious starchiness needed any further help in the war on my flanks. Nevertheless, it was interesting to experiment this time with a sweetened variety. Which was of a completely different texture to the potato-like crumbliness expected. Obviously when lots of sugar meets starch, they do form a rather glutinous texture, which is entertaining for some. Like me. That and there was coconut, so, failure-proof essentially, though not much in the way of cassava was evident other than a slight denseness right in the middle of each morsel. Not that cassava has much in the way of flavour anyway. 
  • Khanom Tom Bai Toey [ขนมต้มใบเตย] - Coconut Covered Glutinous Balls with Nut Filling
More glutinous rice. More coconut. Now with added nut filling. Similar to the other coconut strewn treats, but this time with an added explosion of a dense, predominantly peanut, filling which just melds perfectly with the genteel sweetness of the coconut. 
  • Med Kanun [เม็ดขนุน] - Sweetened Split Mung Beans with Egg Yolk
Another diverse treat, comprising of a sweetened mung bean melange with the same sweetened egg yolk strands previously mentioned added into the mix. The result is much the same, in that the mung beans have little flavour of their own, barring a sweet mush with a slight earthy bean aroma [who would've thought!], with an addition the egg yolk making itself known [oh hai!]. Quite pleasant, if not as coma inducing as some.
  • Khanom Tarn [ขนมตาล] - Steamed Palm Heart Cakes
One of the more "normal" offerings, in that it is simply a steamed cake. Of Palm hearts [or so I think]. So still quirky enough to warrant its demise in my belly. And not much stands out, other than, blatantly, the coconut, but also its relative lightness - it is not grossly starchy or doughy at all. A bit bland, but otherwise, s'aright. 
  • Khao Niew Mamuang [รวมมิตรข้าวเหนียวมะม่วง] - Mango with Sticky Rice & Coconut Milk
I heart mangoes. I am newly infatuated with sticky rice. On top of that, this is such a proliferate dessert that it should in theory have been refined to divine levels of awesomeness, not that there is much more to it beyond the mentioned ingredients. Jeebus. I experienced one of those moments, where life is reaffirmed. New purpose added. Beyond subsistence, this isn't subsistence, this is crack in fruit form - the crack distillate. I have nary a clue of the mango seasons, though regardless of such, the mango in isolation was very sweet, and the sticky rice had a lovely, yet soft suffusion of sweetened coconut with a light saltiness. Combined, and the Reese's Pieces phenomena of sweet & salty amalgamation of destiny have once again come to fruition. The mango is just perfectly balanced with the creaminess of the coconut, and supported by a lingering slight saltiness that just reduces capacity of much cohesive thought to null. All the while, filling me with starch and sugar and not caring. Absolutely. Delicious. 
  • Tod Mun Pla [ทอดมันปลากราย] - Fish Cakes
Another staple, another weaksauce reason for destroying myself with food. Excuses be damned. However, never having tried fish cakes until recently, I am still unsure of what to expect from the Thai variants. This one was formed of a paste rather than a shredded/chopped patty, which seemed a bit "pre-packaged" to me, despite the whole peas dotted around. Taste-wise it was pleasant enough, nothing noteworthy really. More excuse to try more.
  • Saku Sai Kem [คาคูใส่เค็ม] - Tapioca Balls with Peanut & Turnip Filling
Having difficulty in understanding exactly what the farge this was due to some communication failure, I was hoping to be able to have some direction in order to balance the couple of savoury purchases with the container inventory's worth of desserts. I am still unsure what these are classified as, yet it is of no issue, for they are rather exquisite. From what I understand, it is a tapioca-based dumpling, with a peanut and turnip filling, which sounds savoury. Which it is not, rather it is quite sweet, yet with an aroma of sesame and garlic from the cooking. There is more though - when the chillies and coriander are combined with the dumplings, they just create an ambrosial mix of the spicy zing of the chilli cutting through the rich nut filling, and creating essentially, a Thai Sweet Chilli Sauce, in your mouth. Rather lovely, if confusing. Makes my hands smell as well.
  • Gaeng Keow Wan Gai [แกงเขียวหวานไก่] - Green Chicken Curry

The ubiquitous Green Curry, such a Westernised name in order for the legions of worldwide appreciators to instantly recollect this curry. Which makes only one of an astronomical number of other "ubiquitous" curries from Thailand, posing the annoyance of knowing exactly where to start from in order to gain a reference point. Such was the case for me, compounded by the fact that all food stalls essentially served up the same dish. I only went for the Green Curry for I struggle to know which reason; I think I was scared off by one stall that gave me a spoonful to taste of just the top layer of oil, and because it was the stall that was foreigner friendly. Perhaps the servant was kind of attractive to.


Regardless, how did it turn out? I just feel the greatest satisfaction whenever I eat a curry that is full flavoured, thick, and aromatic. Which is precisely how the vast majority I have tried at restaurants are not. I guess the above qualities are hard to recreate with "just add water" packets. The now requisite perfume of coconut was delicate yet evident, with a slight sharpness of the basil and lime leaves abound, the bamboo shoots also adding much of the same. I had mine with egg noodles purely to try and stave off the other evils I was consuming on the same day in terms of starch content, but their consistency was just perfect for the curry, with a nice thickness helping to easily manage it in the fact of my usual spaghetti/noodle handling deficiency. One quirky and pleasant detail were the carrots, that were not only cut in an odd shape but also seemingly grooved, which helped to cling sauce onto them. A lovely and light curry, and "Green" ticked off. Now which to select next, from Red. Yellow. Massaman. Panang. Jungle..
  • Khanom Wan Ruam Mit [รวมมิตร] - Tapioca & Mixed Fruits in Sweetened Coconut Milk
A giant fish bowl with a sign containing the words "Sweetened Coconut" were all the temptation I needed. And it was a struggle to make this last three whole servings. Evidently of the fresh coconut milk variety, seeing as any resting period served to split the coconut milk into its various constituents, it was refreshing, divine and delicate in equal measures. Containing as far as I know, tapioca, water chestnuts, a multitude of faeries and mystical creatures, they added little other than a compelling melange of textures, especially the water chestnut with its chewy exterior flesh giving way to the soft crunch of the centre. Absolutely delicious, and far better sampled by the spoonful than I would think it would have been with the provided sewer-pipe straw.
  • Guay Jub [ก๋วยจั้บ] - Pork Entrail Stew with Flat Rice Noodles
Straight from the rather meek and sensible - in nature, not in volume, that was apocalyptic - possibly helped by a slight misreading in my research. In and amongst my want need infatuation for exploring flavours, and a somewhat thin grounding for loving tripe, despite having had it the once before [ok, twice, but the first experience was the more memorable, despite being over 10 years ago], when I spotted this dish being served at one of the only stalls with a foreigner understanding staff, I immediately ordered what I had thought was just Pork Tripe Stew, to add some variety to the infinitesimal variations of the ubiquitous Thai Curries. What I did not know however, is that tripe was just an "ingredient". Amongst the many. Not that it would have stopped me, but it looked sinister, it smelt, interesting, and a quick research revealed the name "Viscera stew".


So. Despite the most vile sounding of descriptions ever possible, a tentative sip of the soup revealed. A surprise. This, was actually rather appetising, it didn't taste of concentrated evil. It was rather sweet, with a clear prominence of star anise in the broth. When eating the dish outright, it was surprising in that despite the clear evidence of the dreaded liver, and not actually knowing the hell I was eating, I rather enjoyed it. The flat wide rice noodles [woot, gluten free!] were rather quirky, and absorbed the broth's flavours nicely, and the whole dish was quickly consumed, awkward textures, disgusting descriptions and all.


~~~~

The United Towers of Awesome
No lights were actually on during the taking of this picture, an ethereal, almost divine glow befalling upon this tower of calorific epicity.


...


Despite the exaggeration, excess and repetitive nature of such, I came away from this experience - if only vaguely so - enlightened. Only so much can be drawn from a festival of its scale, in a country not of its origin, and with little preparation or knowledge of what to expect. However, what I did experience has helped introduce me in one swift move, not only to a more respective view of the culinary geography of Thailand, but in eating the most disgusting of described dishes, I also feel like I have broken another boundary - beyond my waistline - of denying myself of experiences through ignorance and unsubstantiated notions of preference or otherwise. In eating viscera, I think I am now ready to eat my way through anything, allowing me to fully experience what countries have to offer [obviously a much needed abstinence period..]; I think I'll even confidently affront Shirako. Actually. No. Am I really feeling this grandiose from overeating out of boredom? Maybe not, I am however mildly elated at having added ever so slightly to my knowledge of another cuisine. Albeit 11 years late from actually visiting the country in question.





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Thursday, 11 August 2011

A Midsummer's Night Gorge

Summer is a dangerous thing - if there is one source of influence amongst the human race able to achieve the impossible, able to push boundaries, capable of profuse change..it is boredom. Pure. Debilitating. Boredom. Boredom forces people to do, it enables them to explore. Perhaps, fire was discovered not by necessity, but by man getting bored of dying of hypothermia, with unlikely coincidences culminating in its discovery. Seemingly then, when I'm tired of the noisy crickets in concerto in the echoing void of my consciousness, I like to eat. Profusely. In a rigorously organised schedule ofcourse. 



Henceforth the explanation of yet another successive day of overindulgence - sacrificing a stay in my "home" of Saudi Arabia for the summer, where eating is a pass-time, for the UK, where eating is a pass-time. Albeit far more expensive. Vive les calories! 

Beyond the grandeur of the moving power of boredom, I intended this day as yet another exploratory undertaking, seizing the opportunity to visit places that not even boredom would be able to encourage my partners in indulgence to face. I would thus hope that it would be one of the cases where I would be sampling the kind of experiences to sample alone - you know the kind, the ones that draw out the awkward noises and faces. Some moderate planning was required to ensure that I'd be capable of visiting the plethora of eateries, outlets and venues in a systematic manner so as to fall upon my meal times, otherwise the world would collapse. I also plan my breathing. The theme would seem to be predominantly Asian-centric once again, no particular reason for it, other than my particular fascination of current times for Japan predominantly, as well as the intrinsically skewed outlook on Asian cuisine by dint of repetitive atrocities of dining-outs passed.

This would begin with Lunch at a Burmese Restaurant: Mandalay of Edgware Road. A country only brought to my attention recently, as in within the last 3 years. People have a guiding light, I'm shrouded in the ignorance of my broken bulb. Nevertheless, subtle irony in eating on the bad side of Edgware [despite the redundancy in distinction of the attributes of its zones], at a restaurant whose nationality is torn by war, having to drive through a recent war zone. War. What is it good for? Clearing the road and queues apparently - the journey was trouble-free, the restaurant was largely empty, and despite trawling long enough for parking to contemplate eating my face, it was found within reasonable distance. Lunch was a relative disappointment, melding lack of flavour, with blandness, with the solace of a coconut laced dessert. Though with a lack of caffeine-influenced digestive motivation, the sentiment was slightly demure. The remainder of the days tonnage would no doubt suffuse and smother the lunch anyway. 

This led to the tedious task of deciding that most important of factors of travel in London - or rather, travel for those too stubborn/defiant of relying on public transport. Parking. Having just made the monumental effort of registering for Phone Pay Parking, I decided to park by Casa Malevo on Connaught Street. A Police Officer stood by, MP5 in hand, car, secure. On I skipped along towards Piccadilly, for the first of my endeavours, one which I had been introduced to at the recent Hyper Japan Exhibition: Minamoto Kitchoan.

~ Minamoto Kitchoan - Japanese Confections ~

If boredom is the motivating factor to achieve, then pretty pictures are the impetus for parting with one's cash. Or at least such is the case with me in the regards of Minamoto Kitchoan. Having long been baffled by the absurdity of the lack of desserts in the Japanese tradition, I sought to find reasoning behind the injustice. Which took all of five minutes on Google in all honesty, leading to the discovery that rather the little treats or "Wagashi" are consumed typically in the afternoon with tea. Despite being tea-treats, the pictures on Minamoto Kitchoan's website, and the delightful Engrish translations achieved what they sought. Not that it takes much conviction to convince me to fulfil a sweet tooth binge.

Walking in, out of the glorious British rain-soaked summer, I was greeted with an assortment of kitschy desserts, with the usual melange of unusual ingredients sparking interest. And confusion. Yet again, as per Hyper and my blanked email, no discounts were offered for the avid gluttons. Blast. This would mean I would have to choose. Out of a hoard no-preferences. Not helped by a language barrier either. And the attractiveness of one of the manga lookalikes. I would settle on the following:



Suikanshuku - White Bean Paste-filled Dried Persimmon
Daikitchoimo - White Bean Paste-filled Sweet Potato Cake

On top of these I also purchased a Muscat and an Ume [Japanese Plum] jelly for later consumption. And avoidance of diabetic coma. Sampling the Dried Persimmon wagashi first, I came to the startling realisation, that perhaps. I am actively trying to shed my limbs in an abstract quest to lose weight, why else would I take a second bite out of a morsel of pure Diabetes. It was. Disgustingly sweet. And had to be put down immediately. For later consumption/evaluation/continuation of limb shedding. On the second sampling of the dessert however, I was pleasantly surprised, with its period cooling its notions of human destruction subdued by refrigeration, releasing a treat with a slight persimmon aroma and a not overly sweetened earthy bean paste. All the while ignoring the nutritional data included on the back of the packet. 

The second wagashi was also intriguing - on first bite, I noticed something quite peculiar for a country that largely avoided such strong and distracting flavourings..is that..Cinnamon?! It was, and it rather perked up this confection, despite largely following the same rule, substituting pervasiveness tartness of the persimmon instead with the starchy mushiness of the sweet potato. Quite pleasant, as obviously dictated by the ludicrous musings on the nutritional data card. It begs the question though, is substituting sugar in tea as is common practice in Japan, with Wagashi, really healthy? My extremities tingled in protest such a notion. Why are my arms and legs going blue and black..

~ Japan Centre - Japanese Convenience Store ~
Straight to a variation of a theme, released from the narrow field of vision of the diabetics' nightmare that was Minamoto Kitchoan, and into a surreal realm of everything Japanese. If the name of the store did not create ample vision of the scope and breadth of the store, the mere sight of the rows upon rows of Sake bottles, refrigerated and non- made it clear. As well as instil a bit of fear from my wallet. It trembled. Or perhaps my leg was attempting to shed itself. Considering the measured aimlessness I entered the store with, a quick perusal and a rapid exit were all that was called for, saving myself from further needless expenditure. I do realise the inherent hypocrisy of that phrase in its usage for me, being as it is, my modus operandi.  

~ London Trocadero - Decrepit Arcade/Shopping Centre ~
Progressing from Regent Street a tout de suite, I made a beeline for the London Trocadero, in an attempt to demystify the enigma of the Entremets Patisserie located within. Going on a fledgling passion for Macaroons, born only three weeks or so prior at the sampling of the divine On Cafe' morsels, this was apparently a family run business headed by a French man and his Malaysian wife in the basement of the Trocadero Centre, opened at the end of February. Sounds rather reminiscent of the aforementioned. Spidey-senses, tingling. Recently however the website had long disappeared. Meandering through the crowds of orientation-illiterate tourists, I entered a Tardis. A Tardis of festering misery. This was the saddest excuse of a shopping centre I had seen in a while, considering especially its prominence. It would not take long to figure out, that this was a complete bust - even the toilet required £1 for use. Exit, stage now. Seeking to lambast the websites indicating its existence, Gaycities noted that the stall shut down in March, 2 days after the indicated February 26th opening. Figures.  

~ Caffe Concerto - Cafe ~
In the midst of trawling around the chaotic masses of idiot-guided tourists, in a sudden outburst of sunshine, serving only further to ridicule my decision to wear a jumper, I had almost forgotten that I had and will be further adding strain to an already tortured digestive system, and so, an espresso was required as I was not going to succumb to a Nescafe at Mandalay. Despite being a professional deadbeat, I have my relevant standards. £5 minimum charge. I loathe you. Tropical fruit tart purchased to make the tally, almost to add insult to my complete lack of will. 

Miscellaneous Tropical Fruit Tart
I was intrigued however, by the inclusion of dragonfruit in said tart, and promptly proceeded to devouring the tart the next morning for breakfast. It added a generous dose of fruit to a breakfast that consisted primarily of death by sugar, and a healthy dose of rich pastry cream, and not much else. Other than another legion of floatation aids to my quickly bolstering waist.


~ Kowloon Bakery ~
With the caffeine-infusion preparing me for a further onslaught, I ventured forth towards Chinatown despite being an hour early for my next planned gorging. Oh noes! A former rut of monotony, attempting to break out of the concept of MSG and meh-diocrity I had previously attenuated to this area would require a receptiveness of mind, and a subduing of negativity. Bah. So therefore, taking inspiration from my collection of pictures of fried dough, I decided a Chinese bakery was in order. Failing to find a particle Blog article that depicted one such bakery, it was settled on Kowloon Bakery, as it was the only outlet I could locate on Google. Briefly distracted by walking into a Korean/Japanese convenience store, I uttered NEIN! Focus you untermensch! And continued on to Kowloon Bakery. Whereby I was met with a wall of artery hardening delicacies. I however, was adamant, nay, determined that the ubiquitous Youtiao was a requisite. And such it was purchased, as well as a lotus seed paste pastry. From the angriest little girl and mother team ever. Bodes well for the pastry's ying to their yang.

Youtiao
Lotus Seed Paste Bun
No particular reason for the choices, other than the Youtiao, that I figured if I was going to sample a typical Chinese Bakery item, may as well get one that out-sizes me. It is also the staple Chinese breakfast item, which would mean I could make it last at least the two servings and keep the ever watchful Monsieur Death at bay, seemingly being teased by my indulgences. Not sure what to expect from the fried dough batons, I attacked one, to find a now rather hard and greasy savoury stick, I think I was expecting sweet. Hmph. Little joy to have when its this cold, though it was alleviated when combined with the soy milk of the Black Sesame Dumplings purchased from Candy Cafe'. The lotus seed paste bun was slightly face implodingly sweet, obviously not helped by being kept in the same bag as the then scalding Youtiao. However, the next morning. Things changed.

Gently heating the Youtiao and remaining soy milk, I engaged in a bit of a Chinese Breakfast, on top of the other hoards of food being consumed at the same time, and when warmed, the two were immediately a much nicer pairing - perhaps better so if the soy milk were lightly sweetened. The slight saltiness of the Youtiao was diffused by the soy milk, and the softened dough took on a mild savoury creaminess. It was rather enjoyable, as was the bun when dipped in the soy milk, helping to lighten the diabetic onslaught and creating a more mellow combination. Guess the Chinese wake up with enough energy for world domination. Figures.

~ Candy Cafe - Desserts Cafe ~

Straight from Kowloon I meandered round the corner before I could bury my face in the dough stick embodiment of a heart attack in order to burn some time, so at least I could tease the coronary event in line with my pre-dinner snack timing. If I'm going to tempt fate, I may as well do so in an organised manner ^_^. Having pre-emptively made my choice beforehand based on the other choices of this day, I decided as well to have another serving of coffee, just to help any chance of expelling this day out of my body. The fact that my predetermined choice of dessert here fell in line with what I would have for dessert at Mandalay, as well as my purchasing of the youtiao should speak volumes, I insist on my terminal levels of boredom, but some may argue specifics.

Anyway, a hot bowl of Tangyuan [I believe] Black Sesame-filled Dumplings in Soy Milk [lactose free, woot!] - which would double up for breakfast serving with the youtiao the next morning, thus, as per the plan of wins - and then the coffee. Though, seeing as this cafe had a choice seemingly for each individual of the Chinese populous, I was stuck. So I asked for a suggestion, which was of dairy laden Bubble Milk Tea Coffee, but with coffee instead. Annoyingly I agreed. Despite the lone active cell capable of dialogue in my brain screaming in protest, much in vain. I duly made my way towards the next destination, Selfridges, after capturing the moment in case gluttony should negate the existence of these items existing. And should I happen to eat the counter. 

Attempts at actually consuming the items when I was actually hungry were largely futile, as I could not be bothered in holding the cup of coffee. Abandoned by my backbone, sewer-pipe straw into the cup, and. Intriguing. Pleasingly not of weapons-grade sweetness as expected, and the minute jelly balls were a bit of an interesting counterpart. Why would someone need a variety of texture in a coffee?! Who knows, but it was awesome. They did not really taste of much, barring a very slight flowery sweetness, thus presuming them to be grass jelly, but they were entertaining to consume. Especially when the coffee was gone and I was left with a quarter of a cup of the "bubbles". Feeling disgustingly inept at subduing the self-sabotage, I soldiered on to Selfridges, briefly being dumbstruck into a coma by the bus schedule, lying to myself that my main emphasis was of the purchase of magazines..

I knew deep down that they were not edible..

Black Sesame Tangyuan Dumplings in Soy Milk & Zhenzhu Naicha - Bubble Coffee Milk
Black Sesame Dumplings in Soy Milk
My attempts at maintaining schedule were largely a fail, consumed before so much as even exiting Chinatown, though to the benefit of releasing the hassle of carrying the cup. Yarly. Once in an isolated spot, far away from ears sensitive to the raucous grunts and groans of a glutton in feeding, I also sampled the still hot dumplings. Which had the most absurdly composed dumpling texture ever, being soft yet chewy and rather sticky all at the same time. Once eventually biting through to the black sesame, my respite from sugary annihilation thus far was levelled back out. Whilst not quite as manically sweet as the dried persimmon wagashi, it was still far sweeter than I had hoped for. Not sure why simple syrup was provided for the soy milk. Did they want to eviscerate me that badly? Saying that though, I used this to my advantage the next morning. Away with the simple syrup, and instead, splitting the dumplings into the soy milk, to create a mess largely. And not really sweetening the milk at all. However, it gave it a lovely sesame aroma to the milk, which suffused into the youtiao. Win some, fail some.

~ Pierre Herme - Patisserie ~
Straight to Selfridges for "magazines", nothing found, and so to stop procrastinating from the true scope of my aim here and seek solace in the food court. A pleasant surprise awaited me on entering - I had gone primarily for the magazines Oddono's ice-cream stall in order to start my pre-dinner snack, but I was delighted by the sight of a Pierre Herme patisserie stand, replete with rows upon rows of macaroons. This was surely destiny, as my denial of the Entremets' macaroons at the wretched Trocadero coincided with the fact that I had wanted to try the Pierre Herme' variants at some point to compare to the Cafe On ones that had deflagrated my preconceptions about macaroons. It would also mean I would not need to pass by Cafe On either. More macaroon explorations AND petrol saved. You try convincing me that this was not guided by a higher motive.

Much like Cafe On as well, the displayed macaroons were all comprised of exceptionally odd flavours, which made choosing the respective "gift" macaroons [there would be no sharing. Ever.] difficult. I settled for a vanilla & olive oil macaroon, still romanticised by the coma inducing olive oil cake from Galoupet, for George the closest to a chocolate macaroon, so Chocolate & Passion Fruit, and for the heathen that is Huzaifah, a box of seven, with the closest to a Pistachio one, which had, well, lots. I think some pistachio too as a token. Contented, I skipped along to Oddono's facing opposite, in the relentless pursuit of gastrointestinal explosion.

Mogodor Macaron - Milk Chocolate & Passion Fruit
Barely had the creamy Oddono decadence cleared my mouth, and I was stuffing my gullet with yet more piggy delights, almost trouncing families in my wake on the crowded pavement. Swallowing the macaroon whole, I was met with. Not much really, it was a bit bland. A bit vanilla [natch]. Though having literally just finished consuming the essence of cream and sugar moments before, it is of no surprise. Next time then. In a decade or so, when I have burnt off today's calories.

~ Oddono's - Ice-Cream Parlour ~
Remnants of Caramel & Fig Ice- cream
Straight from the macaroons, to the ice-cream to the diabetic coma. A quick glance on the internet revealed Oddono's to be a favourite, run by Italians, and award winning. So, largely good enough to tempt me into sampling a cliche' "Gelato" stand hoping it would not follow the tedious pretensions of the usual offenders [why can't gelato just be written as ice-cream, and panini as sandwiches..]. Not presented with a grand choice [thankfully], and denied of honeycomb flavour [unthankfully], I pined for the Caramel & Fig ice-cream. As, obviously the fig would aid in digestion. *Cough*

Consuming immediately, I was largely left disappointed. It was creamy, sweet, and indulgent enough. It was however, not a true Italian ice-cream, or rather, it was missing quite a lot from the authentic item. It just was not creamy, soft and "fresh" enough, and other hard to quantify subjective nothings. Rather delicious, but it was more of a "Whats-a mattah you" ice-cream to an authentic "Babidi Boobidi" example. At least it would charge me with sugar-charged motivation to the looming devouring of the thus far acquired treats.

~~~~

In the midst of my Summer Afternoon's Glutton Feast, my intricately timed planning had conspired to leave me an hour overdue for the parking amount paid, but it was fine, as I had enough sugar coursing through my veins to be able to bleed candy should I need to bribe the Council. I need not have worried. No parking fines. The MP5 wielding concierge did his job well. Clambering into the sweltering heat of my car, I quickly sought to find a place to devour the amassing weapons of mass degustation [weak, I know] and find respite from the heat. Obviously listed in order of importance. Spot found, not after having to pay £0.67 for ten minutes worth of parking to keep the parking attendant at bay. He was just jealous of my in-car feast. 

Finishing the face/food interacting, I was suddenly found with a further three hours to burn until the culminating meal of this most prolonged of stomach-torturing days could partake. Driving down to George's house to drop-off his devious little tempting macaroon, only to find he was absent burnt away too little time. And kept the little deviant in my possession. Tempting me. NO. I turned round and journeyed towards the destination of where a much awaited/anticipated Salt Beef dinner would partake, dropping off the "gift" macaroons at a friends' house and burning the appropriate time to at least allow for some semblance of digestion to occur before yet again consuming myself into a stuffed toy. 

Dinner, as always, was of the epic inclination at B&K Salt Beef Bar, greeted and treated as the almost celebrity/stalkers that me and Huzaifah quite rightly are in our obsession of this place, and a perfect salt beef sandwich consumed. A welcome surprise arose in the second coming of the Lokshen pudding. This time around, it was fabulous. Though, add a scope of vanilla ice-cream to Kim Jong Il, and he'd be rather fabulous too. With that, so ended a disgustingly indulgent day of exploration, with a perfect hearty, homely, and honest fare. Obviously in an attempt of blanking out memory of the trail of destruction wreaked by my exuberantly nefarious appetite. 

Boredom tastes good. 


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[Restaurant - Burmese] Meh-ndalay; Mandalay of Edgware

 Location - Edgware, London [UK]

So it was, in another fit of boredom, and in defiant unawareness of the tense atmosphere to the riots I had no idea were occurring, I had decided to engage in another day of calorific indulgence, seemingly with little purpose, theme or scope other than to eat. Lots. Sounds reason enough to me. As a result, I decided to start with a lunch, at an eatery whose cuisine is based on a country who has experienced recently documented turmoil and unrest. Of which again, I was completely oblivious to. Ignorance, and food. My guiding lights. 

Once I had found word of a Burmese restaurant I was immediately intrigued, for beyond giving name to a species of cat that I once had and oh so loved, and nothing it was located "somewhere in Asia", I essentially had a total knowledge-void of anything of significance with regards to Burma/Myanmar. Thus for, I would need to eat my way into some knowledge. Despite being located on Edgware Road. The BAD side of Edgware Road, though distinction is perhaps redundant. Unfortunately, efforts to research into Burmese cuisine were thwarted predominantly due to a lack of actually knowing what to search for, with most of the translated dishes on the menu turning up little. It would seem the internet draws up scarce amount of information on food from a country steeped in the political unrest of Burma for some reason. How very rude of them. It would seem also that attempts to search using the native language were also thwarted by the funkiest written language ever. Too much effort required to download the requisite font packs soon found my patience being outlasted by the 5 minutes of download time or so. 

Thus for I would jump into this blindly. Before that though, Google Street View the area, as despite never having ventured there, I had envisioned "Bad" Ghetto Pre-Flyover Edgware as essentially a lower Baghdad type scenario. Or Croydon on a Saturday night. So it would seem. Lovely. And so I journeyed, and searched for parking for around a millennia, which was all good and well as it would mean I would have the hunger required to digest all that was planned to increase the population of cholesterol buddies in my arteries today. 
 
~ Starter ~
- Calabash Fritters












Seemingly a Burmese speciality, and the fact that anything seems to be frittered, it had to be sampled. Not that any excuse is required for fritters. Fried batter. Sold. Calabash was chosen as I had somehow assumed it would be similar to Bitter Gourd. However, I was left rather disappointed. Despite having a more impressive tan than my solitary isolation-abandoning of brown skin colour, they were not all that crisp, and most importantly, have any particular taste. Despite the presence of what seemed to be curry powder and assorted supposed-to-flavour ingredients within the fritters, I just could not sense anything. The sauces did not help, being a light tamarind [I think] that basically displaced the fritters' flavour with its own, the commercial grade sweet chilli sauce that achieved likewise, and the weak soy sauce, which actually did help a little, if only adding a gentle saltiness.

As such, these cholesterol buddies would not be accompanied by the usual deep-fried rightness I was expecting, which is a shame. The buddies have lost purpose now. Other than to kill me with no benefits.







~ Main Course ~
- Chicken & Noodles in Coconut Curry










Opting for the most traditional "recommendation", mostly as every other dish sounded like largely the exact same permutation of a core dish with just a token changed ingredient, I just required that it did not contain rice. I ate enough rice at Hyper Japan to last me. Infinitesimally. Obviously that would mean noodles, a divergence of which Moses could not recreate. I immediately rued the waiters' denying me of na'an. The massive plate arrived, first sip of the curry and. Well, not much. Rather watered down curry, with very little spice, though with an always pleasant coconut note, as it should. Otherwise it was rather light in body, spice, and everything nice. Squeezing in a bit of the lemon wedge ironically added a dose of acidity that perked up the curry a little bit, seeming a bit lost in purpose though beyond such. Much like the search for the chicken, all measly two crumbs or so of it, in an effort to not devour all those noodles. 


I was not amused. Dessert better leave me in a coma.



~ Dessert ~
- Sanwin Makin







Considering that throughout the day I would be having a further metric tonne of miscellaneous desserts and artery clogging niceties, the dessert choice at Mandalay was of utmost importance. Which was just as well that there was not ample choice, though the two main ones of interest intrigued. In the end the Sanwin Makin won me over with its mere mention of coconut. Despite being microwaved, with the odd multi-temperature sensation of the semolina cake, it was rather enjoyable. The coconut milk was just a tad too sweet, but forgiven for being coconut. You can never criticise coconut. Evrar.

The semolina cake itself was reasonable as well, not being overly greasy regardless of the evident infusion of ghee diffusing into the coconut milk with every spoonful taken. A subtly delightful dessert, reasonable in portion as well. Finished to the last drop. 


~~~~

The experience overall, all things considered was not as abysmal as the war-torn side of town I was located in. I may have overestimated preconceptions slightly on the basis showed forth by vastly superior picture-taking than mine by various Bloggers and lyrical, overblown praise, not that I had entered with much in the way of expectation. Especially not when receiving the reality call on entering. The food was the predominant disappointment, in that there was just a lack of flavour in the savoury courses, which just did not recreate any notion of authentic or traditional flavours. Not that I know what the flavours of the country are and that I would think typically restaurants in a foreign setting can find it difficult to accurately recreate national flavours, even though the notion of accuracy of flavour is fraught with the paradox that is subjectivity. And such.


Despite this though, it must also be considered that for the price I was reasonably satisfied, and being in the area of question, what with the Coalition Forces dividing out rations to the Northern side of Edgware Road, only so much can be expected. Not that I actually knew what was to be expected. So I remain curiously just as oblivious as before. 

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Thursday, 4 August 2011

[Event - Exposition] The Great British Belly-aching Festival (>_<)

Location - Earl's Court, London [UK] 

I despise beer. Thus I ventured forth to the Great British Beer Festival held at the Earl's Court Exhibition Centre. A good to day to make sense ^_^


In a move unbeknownst to me, I attended the aforementioned festival, when there was no actual appeal for me in the slightest. I do not heart beer, at all. Smells horrible, tastes similar - granted a couple of ales and bitters I have tried have not been appalling but I generally do not like it or its mother. Not that I am a profuse drinker anyway. Public House fare is also a source of not much excitement, being rather. Well. Blah. For want of a better word. And which was essentially the other provenance of subsistence available at the festival. Though it was the food that drew me in the end. Food and Boredom. Much. Boredom. Willingness does not move mountains, boredom does. Now this teaching simply needs to be indoctrinated to bring forth the new breed of pioneers of this world.


So armed with the questionable motives, I made my way. Still not quite knowing why. True some friends would be there, though in my sobriety I probably would not be as elated as they at the displacing of my blood with alcohol. Teeming as I was with this positive mindset, I did already schedule just how I was going to obliterate/experience the various foods on display. The hope was that a structured plan would avoid over-indulgences, and my backpack would allow for the storage of such for later consuming. It remained empty. I could not with hold myself. Straight to it, the appropriately titled Kill list:




  • Olives & Things - Marinated olives, pickled garlic & peppers, sun-dried tomatoes: A rather rudimentary "starter" of sorts but I would need my vegetables obviously...*cough*. The olives were quite nice, a wide variety, so I just chose at random, like the carefree rebel that I am. Blatantly. Not swimming in brine like the supermarket variety, and quite delicately flavoured. The pickled peppers were fine, but the pickled garlic was addictive, lovely. Sun-dried tomatoes, unsurprising.
  • Inyama - Chilli Biltong: One of my "to eats", among the infinitesimal list, merely fine, essentially a less dry, fresher tasting beef jerky. 
  • Proper Cornish Pasties - Scrumpy Beef Cornish Pasty: Large as my face, copiously filled, delectable pastry. However, where was the beef?! It was mainly potatoes. Hmph. 
  • International Seafoods - Jellied Eels: Another of my "must-tries", ended up being quite alright. Ludicrous amount of jelly [jello?] and was heightened nicely by the suggested white pepper and vinegar. Annoying bones, but otherwise pleasant.  
  • The Crusty Pie Company - Pork & Stilton Pie: Lacking in Stilton, and quite normal for a Pork pie, only took a couple of bites as I feared intestinal explosions. Reserved for later. 
  • Vitis Wines - Moniack Mead: Quite lovely with a prominent note of a floral honey, obviously. Would have preferred it chilled, and it got me light-headed quite quickly despite the minute serving. Perhaps the quaffing did not help.
  • Ank Marvin - Wild Boar Burger: A reasonable burger, though in retrospect I should have had the Kangaroo to brave into new horizons. Quite normal, mango chutney nice, nothing memorable. Other than the fact I as still eating.
  • The Crusty Pie Company - Sweet Mince Slice: Disgustingly delectable and diabetes inducing in equal measures. So very hard to stop consuming the CD Case size pastry. Incredibly sweet filling, so much so that the sugar coating on the exterior was not even sensed. I hated to love it.
  • King's Old Ale - Weak, rather watery, and only sampled to give at least some sense in my attendance of this exposition. 
And then, the belly-aching, commenced. Who would've thought, after that delightfully meagre melange had made it down my perpetually open gullet. Obviously, awash with guilt, I sought refuge in the company of the aforementioned friends. To no avail. Even hours later, my stomach still cried mercy for this atrocity so foul. Bored of this guilt, I left, compounded by the fact that I did not want to add to the ridiculous amount of food consumed with equally gross parking charges [escaped the £20 fee by less than a minute!]. 

So. A couple of new horizons ventured, one stomach debilitated. Still do not know a valid motive. Pine this as another victory to over-indulgence. The crafty fiend >_>

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[Restaurant - Argentinean] Casa Mia e Casa Tua. Indeed; Casa Malevo of Marylebone


Location - Marylebone, London [UK]



Referring to the infernally misspoken "Italianate" saying of "My home is your home", this is certainly no joke at Casa Malevo, a restaurant seemingly located in someone's living room. Hopefully this would prove to be an auspicious omen in the wish for some home-cooked cuisine. Otherwise, the surroundings would be quite the deception. Which would be very rude. Indeed.

At once, on entering the restaurant, I was awash with feelings of profound...indifference. It is just dinner, Jeebus. However, it was a peculiar sensation - completely different to what I had expected, not in any particular negative way, but also, quite a romantic setting. Befitting for eating with my male partner in gluttony - it's ok, it's a modern society, they'll accept us. My main draw for coming to Casa Malevo was to offer an alternative to the incessant onslaught of defaulting onto Gaucho's that we once subsisted on. There is nothing quintessentially at fault with Gaucho's, but I got the beef. And it bores me. Mind you, just when the opportunity arose to go to Casa Malevo, Gaucho's introduced a new, far more comprehensive [and mesmerising] menu, almost in an obscure and nefarious attempt to tempt me back. Coincidence? Methinks not O_o. 

So, walked across the living room to our table, and sat on the most uncomfortable [lawn?] chairs. Ever. Next to the Private Dining Area/Back Garden Conservatory. Hope Mama Malevo does not struggle catering for all the assembled eaters, especially ones with my appetite. I had even prepared beforehand, knowing precisely what I was going to have. Which was thwarted when the single A4 sheeted menu was handed out, which relegated me to meat for mains. I sensed sabotage on behalf of Gaucho, essentially reversing the roles for this dinner decision - coincidences this profound just aren't a coincidence. I'm onto them...

Yes, I am a girl and I'm disappointed I could not have Cornish Monkfish at an Argentinian Parillada Restaurant. How very dare they. Never mind, one of my "exploratory" dishes were still available, so, onto to the devouring. 


~ Starter ~
- Mollejas al Verdeo

Another Restaurant, another left field choice [for me at least], this time of a seemingly "de rigeur" ingredient that I've seen becoming quite common across a large range of restaurants. Sweetbreads. Mmm, Bread! Not quite. It's a gland. And I vehemently avoided anything that provided a function of anything other than being meat. However, despite being a terminal deadbeat, I do prefer being an informed deadbeat. And the descriptions of what to expect from Wikipedia had somewhat eased me.

The Sweetbreads at least looked appetising, arriving on a small slab of slate, dressed - very lightly - with a salad and a grilled slice of lemon. Odd. On first bite, barring the oddly soft texture combined with the nicely grilled outer, I was pleasantly surprised. Not overtly sweet or bready [how misleading, hmph], but quite distinct from other meats. It combined rather well with the Verdeo sauce, which punctuated slightly through the meat. The grilled lemon was interesting. Did not quite know what to do with it. So, I just ate it as is. Was ok, as interesting as a slice of lemon with some char could be I suppose. Also, in trying my eating partners' empanadas, it is safe to say that these own the Gaucho ones. That is all. Well, fine, some subjective substance - the pastry is fresher as well as less dry, and the filling was just better seasoned and flavoured, and less like a Cornish Pasty. Now that is all.

Oddly, after straying into this uncharted territory, I now feel oddly compelled to brave the dish of "fortitude glands". Not sure why. Hell, after this, I'll try Shirako. Well, actually, maybe not.


~ Main Course ~
- Grilled Lamb Chops with Salsa Verde
- Creamed Spinach

Distraught, flabbergasted, FLUMMOXED by the denial of my Cornish Monkfish, I selected what only item remained that was not a steak, or Italian. So, grilled lamb chops. Yay..May as well order the ubiquitous spinach side, but I'll be indulgent and get them creamed. Living life on the precarious edge, I know. Not much to say really, there's only so much you can write about something as commonplace as grilled meat, especially lamb. Yes it was cooked nicely, yes I was glad with the portion sizes and the fact a bit of typical fat cut off meant I would not feel guilty should I happen to order a metric ton of desserts again. The Salsa Verde was subtle, the tiny capers a bit subdued, but it added a nice acidity to the lamb. Again, nothing spectacular though, a nice dish but hardly much can be expected.


The spinach was lovely however. Infact I only left some remaining to leave space. Not creamed to the point of being a spinach cheesecake, but just right, and a delightful crust made it all the better.

~ Dessert ~
- Flan Casero with Dulce de Leche


Down to the most important food group, and some anticipation mustered here as apparently Mama Casalevo's desserts are quite revered, in particular some Pear and Almond Tart. Which was not there. Figures. The heathens.

So a Flan/Pannacotta it was, not the most exciting of desserts ever, but it did allow me to pair it [almost Pear, like what was denied to me. HAH!] with a traditional obsessive Latin American dessert item - Dulce de Leche. Which is essentially just a milk caramel. And, wow. Whilst caramel has the ability to diffuse wars, the Dulce de Leche just topped that with a subtle creaminess and a much smoother texture than caramel, all with lashings of decadence. As well as enough sweetness to stun a horse. Which was perfect. No, I am not larger than a horse, but the Flan was conspicuously lacking in sweetness, and anything else, which thus made for the perfect combination. As standalone items however, boring and lethally indulgent for the flan and Dulce de Diabetes respectively.



~ Drinks ~
- La Consulta; Passito de Los Andes
- Espresso

One of the suggested wines, I am a bit of a floozy for Passito, so I instantly ignored the other suggestion only asking for politeness. It was a beautiful pairing. Such a richness of body and flavour that can only come from a Passito wine with its sun-dried grape production, provided a lovely backdrop for the rich and decadent Dulce de Leche imbued dessert. Granted I feared such a sugar overload would result in catastrophic results on the fall. I cannot recall precisely what the passito was like as it was a while ago now, just that it was many kinds of awesome and paired very well with the rich dessert. 



The espresso was also of note - a very well made espresso, which always adds to a meal. Strong, not watered down, richly aromatic. Done. 


~~~~

An issue with anticipation is that it typically results in a bit of a Michael Jackson song - results are typically Black or White, in that the result of the expectation tends to be one of two extremes. Being very broad obviously. Granted Gaucho's had become almost as repetitive as the incessant onslaught of China Town Treachery we once used to subsist on, but it is also a rather established namesake. Which means precisely nothing, and I'm not sure what point I am trying to make. I guess in terms of comparison it is rather difficult to say, as they offer quite different experiences - from the lavish trimmings of Gauchos, with chairs made of cow, to the austere, living room-based ambience that is Casa Malevo, with its petrified redwood lawn chairs. The menus are relatively similar, though of late the Gaucho's menu has become all the more enticing. 
None of that is important though, what counts is the actual purpose of the restaurant, what my face is planted into when I come to these places. Again, it is difficult to say, as I have only ever had steaks at Gaucho's, and not much of a tangent at Casa Malevo. In isolation it was a very nice experience - the homely ambience reflected in its food, with great attention to detail and prepared very well, and taking a while, as obviously Mama Malevo only has so many hands. I am certain this is someone's house doubling as a restaurant. It's one major downfall is the very reason I sought a replacement for Gaucho's, which namely is a very restrictive menu. I did manage to try out a new food experience in the Sweetbreads, falling straight into normality with grilled lamb chops and snore. It is also seemingly better suited to people on a date, not that I can complain, a bit of romance with the food just makes it all the more pleasing. 

A welcome benefit was the price. It was reasonable. Which is always a plus for the perpetual bum that is me. Better than Gaucho's? Hard to say. Better for the experience? Oh fo' sho. Just need to return to Gaucho's and continue the comparison ^_^

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Tuesday, 2 August 2011

[Restaurant - Italian] Hungry like a Wolf; Bocca di Lupo of Soho

Location - Soho, London [UK]

Anticipation. It has the habit of either being your BFF or a factor of disappointment that you will rue until the demise of time. Or if you don't embellish such concepts, do not take particular notice from, but rather use it as a reminder of how in the end anticipation counts for little, but can add to a certain experience. On this occasion, I have been left stranded - I am an avid subscriber of having to experience something or never finding out, rather than relying on hearsay, semantics and shamanistic predictions, but even so, when an experience does not fulfil the grandeur created, it still hurts. Even a widdle bit. Spoiler? Maybe, or maybe not. Maybe the slightly malformed Good Wish labelling of Bocca di Lupo was an obscure indication.

Sentiment amply set, helping to eradicate some further anticipation. Though in essence I'm writing to myself so I will only be self-surprised. My obsession with Bocca di Lupo started in the infancy of my research for restaurants to sample in the beginning of this perpetual infatuation with, well, eating. Beyond subsistence that is. I was immediately woo'd by the menu, for one reason alone - it included regionality! Henceforth it automatically made the food delectable as if they go through the trouble of such traditional courses they certainly must have done their homework. Just saying. Makes sense in my head! And so my insistence began, for well aeons. Despite the fact that it was located in Skanktown Soho. Apparently this place was popular, as on our first visit it was obvious that drop-by's are delusional at best. This was confirmed by an attempted booking of a few days advance when I was informed that they are usually booked upto 3-4 weeks in advance. Ah.

Third time was the charm - one of the non-believers of the restaurant who had previously assumed the restaurant to be a "Babidi Boobidi" Skank false-Italian eatery had recently been enamoured with their menu, wishing to sample their "Fiorentina" steak, so I decided to attempt a booking for his return from a short break. Success. However, on his return the surprise was in a swift move, foiled. As he had decided to surprise me with a booking at the same restaurant. However my timing was better so we used it instead. Third time the charm then. Getting lost and actually walking circles around Leicester Square only served to stoke our appetites, thus this would obviously become another overindulgence. As. There is no such thing as willpower in this mind of mine. Once found and sat inside, the menus were perused, facetiously for me as I had obviously prepared for this occurrence of destiny well in advance, though that concept was ruined for George after informing him that the Fiorentina was a fake, not being from the traditional Chianina Beef in Italy, and rather from an Irish Cow. And they copied our flag. Heathens.

With Duran Duran echoing in our minds, and bellies as we got Hungy like Wolves [apparently a requisite for here], we continued on to order like piggies. Including a shared main of a little piggy. You know, in order to broaden by tasting a wide variety, to hell with the physical size of our stomachs, they are just semantics.

~ Starter ~
- Fried Tripe
- Lamb Prosciutto with Figs
- "Pani ca Meusa" - Spleen & Ricotta Tartine
- Linguine with Spider Crab, Tomato & Basil

Yup, another "taster" selection of starters, and obviously the awkward ones were my main selections:


  • Fried Tripe - The notion of the "sampler" starters keeps getting more obscured each time it is attempted, especially when receiving such mountainous portions as the tripe came as. Bah! I was firstly concerned about the lack of pecorino and other included ingredients, but had already progressed beyond caring and had proceeded to taking a bite into the little tripe croquettes. Beyond the soft and almost creamy texture of tripe, there really was not much else prevalent in the tripe flavour-wise. Granted I was not sure what to expect, considering the only other time I had had tripe was more than 10 years ago, and done in a stew "Alla Romana", but it was decidedly boring. Wish it had the promised pecorino. How rude of them.
  • Lamb Prosciutto with Figs - A peculiarity in that I have never tried cured lamb meat before, the prosciutto was quite redolent of coppa, with the same subdued saltiness. However, this stank a lot more than coppa, or prosciutto for that matter. The figs, were, incredible. I had never had such sweet figs, despite being entirely green and seemingly very young - not even the figs from Galoupet could compare. Then it was combined with the prosciutto. My word, this works better than melon. A staple. The sweetness of the fig married, honeymooned and made offspring perfectly with the saltiness of the prosciutto, subduing its aroma to the point of letting through a subtle and pure flavour of the prosciutto after the sweetness. It was delectable - I always find with melon that the water content just sort of washes your mouth out. The fig was just perfect. And helps digestion too! Which we'd certainly need..
  • "Pani ca Meusa" - Another of my left-field choices, and one I was not really looking forward to much, other to just experience it. I don't think many people look forward to eating spleen. So it was. It essentially was a subtler tasting liver. And I loathe liver. Being subtler though, I did not loathe this as much. However, probably not one to try again I would think. The Ricotta was imperceptible, despite being there in reasonable amounts - the portion was rather small though, expecting a full tartine to the half provided. Probably for the better then.
  • Linguine with Spider Crab, Tomato & Basil - One of George's orders, quite bland, with a sparse sprinkling of crab. The pasta was nicely al dente though. That is about all there was to recall about it. 

~ Main Course ~
- Roast Suckling Pig with Grapes
- Caponata with Anchovies

Expecting a serving of piglet, perhaps ambitious for the size of the table, I was rather elated at the sensible portion provided - and I had already planned the demise of the exquisitely crispy looking crackling. Attempting to split the portion in half was rendered difficult by the obstinance of a particularly large bone, so rather the pig was just split into plenty of pieces. There was a lot of fat, which was a mixed blessing as it would mean yay for less meat, but also boo for less meat. More flavour though. And it was quite flavourful, and very juicy - the taste and aroma immediately brought to mind the porchetta of Lazio, which is what I presume this dish was supposed to recreate, with its provenance influence by Lazio on the menu. The crackling was very thin, but lovely, and all of it was mine as it would seem that eating pig skin does not factor for Russians. More for me, happy days.

The grapes seemed to have little purpose - I was expecting a sauce, what we got was a punnet, stalks and all. And they were rather scalding. Awkward. And yet more shattered expectations [heavens!] </3. It did combine well enough with the pork though, punctuating the juicy meat with a nice sweetness. Though its purpose still perplexes. 

The Caponata came a bit late in the meal, supposing to be a side, but essentially arriving after the piglet was devoured. And whilst George was about to abandon me and let me consume the hillock of vegetables on my own, my pleasure moans thankfully convinced him otherwise. Yet another surprising plate of produce - the red peppers were so wonderfully sweet, and marinated perfectly. Every component was just unfathomably sweet for vegetables, no doubt helped by the caramelised onions. The anchovies seemed a bit of an odd addition, just being there to add saltiness, but I had never had anchovies, so, plus one for another thing tried. Badly timed but splendid side dish. And possibly healthy had we not consumed industrial amounts of starters prior. 

~ Dessert ~
- Sanguinaccio

This dessert was actually chosen at the beginning of this year, when I first set eyes on the menu. Blood & Chocolate pudding. Done. However, the execution was not nearly as eccentric as I had previewed. What arrived was a small pot of the pudding [I thought it would arrive as the "sausage" type] topped with candied citrus fruit peels and a few slices of crostino bread, much to the detriment of my flanks. It had not occurred to me that essentially this dessert comprised of Nutella and bread. With blood. Though on first sampling of the Sanguinaccio this was quite clear, tasting essentially of a slightly less sweet, dark chocolate Nutella, with a bit of a sour note on the finish. Quite basic in reality and a bit of a disappointment for the sensationalism created. Entirely by me naturally. This dessert essentially amounted to Nutella and Bread. Hmph.

~ Drinks ~
- Vermentino di Something
- Ben Rye; Passito di Pantelleria
- Caffe' allo Zabaione 

Despite my general reluctance for drinking alcohol, primarily by dint of its empty calories and such [hush you dissenters], I obviously did not hold back on this occasion, especially as two of the drinks were some I had wanted to experience for better part of six months. What anticipation?


The wine, a White Wine from Sardinia, was quite lovely - very fruity and light with a good body, a bit like a Pinot Grigio. Quite a drinkable wine [as opposed to solid and undrinkable?], not sure how it combined with the plethora of foods consumed, but it was generally enjoyable. The Passito however..well. It shook my notion of existence to its core. I am far from a saint, yet I could recognise this drink as divine. It was holy. I was not worthy. Insert other overblown embellished descriptives here. It was simply, decadent. I had only ever had a Passito once before, in Sorrento in 2008, wherein I instantly fell in love - rather understandable as I heart fortified and sweet wines as a general. This was something else though. Passito is generally far richer in body and aroma by dint of sun-drying the grapes. This Passito was also singularly unrelenting in its character - it had an aroma and resultant flavour of pure peaches and apricots, intensely so. Rich but not to the point of feeling sickly, and perfectly suited to the heavy chocolate Sanguinaccio. If ever a drink I wish would carry on forever, it was this. George's Passito was almost as epic, though slightly less so. As it was not my order, obviously. A bit more aged, and as a result quite a bit of cask evident in its character, perhaps slightly lighter natured than mine. 


Then obviously the restaurant got tired of us and tried to kill us with Coffees that were sweetened to kill. The Caffe allo zabaione, that is, coffee with a sweetened egg yolk mousse [sounded delectable], was just a diabetic episode waiting to happen, though thankfully my limbs remained attached.


~~~~


Thus finally, the dinner was concluded. About time as well, it would seem I have lost my "Stop" button recently. And whilst on the whole it was a thoroughly enjoyable meal, punctuated by moments of faceplant clarity such as with the Passito, the experience generally left me a bit..empty. Figuratively. As I would be digesting this meal for another 6 months.

I would think the crux of that feeling is that for all the anticipation I had built, creating a notion that for providing such a specifically regional menu that the experience should accurately recreate an Italian persona, this facet never really came to fruition. Despite an Italian waiter. Even somehow the charcuterie board of the Lamb's Prosciutto seemed somehow unauthentic in some unquantifiable manner, somehow contrived, perhaps in its layout and providing measly slices instead of a full leg of lamb prosciutto. It just did not seem very Italian, but rather, Italian influenced. I guess this is the nature of a lot of restaurants not located in their countries of origins - despite efforts gone to finely recreate dishes, use the ingredients of the same provenance, down to even using diversity of region in the creating an atmosphere, the result is just not the same. Here it was especially so. That is not to say that the food was not engaging - no plate was left with so much as a speck on it. I was however, left feeling more than a tinge of disappointment, despite not really buying into anticipation, hearsay and voodoo predictions.

At least however, I was no longer hungry like a wolf. As I had eaten about a Wolf's worth.


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Posted by Enrico - Beddu at 17:27 0 comments
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Friday, 22 July 2011

[Restaurant - Chinese] OBNomnoms Revisited; Oriental Brasserie of Chiswick

Location - Chiswick, London [UK]

Yes, a sequel, but unlike the plethora of imagination failures hitting the cinemas this year, this sequel has meaning, purpose, FLAVOUR. Well, ok, the first two descriptions are not strictly required, no reason is needed to go to Oriental Brasserie, and the third is an obvious conclusion. Come to think of it, this is turning out to be similar in scope to the sequel of the film variety ^_^.

As mentioned in a previous post, a plan was hatched to culminate a day of wretched excess spent gorging myself to the hilt at the Hyper Japan exposition. What better way to cap of said day than with a delectable and most importantly, sensibly priced meal at Oriental Brasserie. The fact that it was only located 3 miles away was not even temptation - it was fate. And so, despite still having wagashi attempting to escape through my various orifices, I hastily made way towards Chiswick, figuring that if I did explode, it could only be for the better as at least the calories would be scattered in a blast radius around me, rather than adding to my flanks. Arrived, looking a bit like a hobo from a full day of exercising my jaw at a warm exposition filled with Pokemon-dressed beings, I was shown to my lone table. Whilst previously a friend was supposed to join me, he remorselessly abandoned me, leaving even more OBNoms for just me, which was a blessing. Feeling like a Tupac song, all eyes were on me. Or rather, diverted from this loner. Good, I don't need distractions when attempting to eat with my face. Seeing as I had just spent the day eating foods I had never experienced, or been able to pronounce, I figured it would only be correct to follow suit here, not that I had built up a standard order in all my previous one visits.


~ Starter ~
- Almond & Wheat Flakes Soft Shell Crab

My first ever encounter with crab. Well, on a plate. Dirty Philistine. It almost looked too pretty to devour, and at first I struggled to comprehend how to eat it - do I eat it, legs and all?! Pfft, no time to think, just eat. My word. Why have I been denying myself of this for so long? Despite being deep-fried [and thus awesome], a delicate sweetness was still prevalent in the meat of the crab, which combined exquisitely with the mountain - quite seriously, a topographical peak - of roasted almond flakes, which in of themselves were disgustingly addictive. They were everywhere and just as roasted almonds always do, tasted of earthy fabulousness. I had to leave some out just not to overconsume - I am only a human, and not a Power Station. It is a harsh realisation at times.


Supplemented with some Chilli Oil, which unlike most places actually has a nice but gentle kick, this was a delinquently delicious dish. Yes, delinquent. It just teased you with half of the crab provided. I need this done with an Alaskan King Crab.

~ Main Course ~
- Pumpkin Mussels Curry

Struggling to find anything of much divergence to the norm of stir-fries, I finally opted for another creature from the sea I had never sampled, again lambasting it for its shell-habitat and thus belonging to a beach or on jewellery. I had wished to stray away from ordering rice, as I had already eaten a container-sized Onigiri earlier on in the day, but the waiter was annoyingly insistent. Meh. Why stop at eating simply a container-sized morsel.

I was presented with a basin of a watery curry piled with mussels. If I did not like mussels, this was going to be a test of fortitude. First, taste the curry. It was coconut-based, therefore, my best friend for ever. Quite watery, perhaps it was meant as such but it did not bother me, I could have avoided the rice and just drank it as a soup. At first the mussels had perplexed me, having not the slightest of clues of how to consume this necklace charm, though I soon manned up, removed it from the shell and noted the peculiar peg and hole structure of the meat and, into my mouth. Hmm. Not terrible, especially considering what it looks like. Not the grandest of fans of the similar to clam [but much less salty] flavour, but really worked nicely with the pumpkin chunks and the coconut curry ambrosia. No doubt a food I won't order too many more times though, unless struggling for originality. And despite there being a similarly Himalayan-sized serving of mussels in the plate, I had yet to arrive to the lost city of Vegetablantis underneath. 


Is it odd to find completely memorable vegetables in such a full flavoured dish like a curry?! Despite being in a stew, the broccoli, water chestnut, bell peppers and company were all exquisitely crunchy, and amazingly flavourful. HOW?! Any attempts at moderation were thwarted by the vegetables, which included the subtly sweet yet hearty pumpkin chunks, leaving only a little of the curry soup left over. Only a bit of rice was eaten with some of the soup just to add some varying texture. The noises emanating from me seemed to trouble the surrounding tables of kids and couples, but I don't care. They knew the score as well.


~ Dessert ~
- Deep-fried Ice-Cream

Having already had the Lotus Seed Awesome on the menu on my last visit, and wishing for something a bit more complicated than fruit fritters, I pined for the aforementioned. A master of spontaneity, I know. It arrived, and I was misled. This is a deep-fried brick. Awesome.

Despite its intimidating size, it was devoured in short order. It was difficult to stop. I ate containers and part of a house today, one for the records. Despite being deep-fried as well, it was not overly greasy or cloying or all things nice. It was just a nice creamy ice-cream brick with a nice crunch and richness from the batter, the mint sauce providing a subtle cutting freshness through all this decadence. It wasn't as mesmerising and trance-inducing as the Lotus Seed Pancake, but again, nothing was left. Though, that is hardly surprising for me these days..




~ Drinks ~
- Espresso

Quite poor, but that is to be expected - not generally been to a Chinese restaurant where it has excelled >_>. Watered down, coming from a tiny espresso machine on the bar counter, but at least it was served in the correctly sized glass. I just wish it had enough caffeine to at least start troubling the entire UNICEF shipment of rations consumed today.

~~~~

And so culminated a day of disgusting, wretched, yet delicious excess. Not really much has to be added onto the description of Oriental Brasserie that hasn't been mentioned in my first post - it still remains epic, and my favourite Chinese restaurant, evar. Everything from the presentation to the execution of the food speaks volumes - despite the frying, purported heaviness of ingredients and cooking styles, they always seem to marry a lightness of touch with a delicate richness of the food. Essentially an oxymoron to the Chinatown brand of Asian cuisine. Nothing is synthetic in flavour, all ingredients tasting natural and free of MSGood.


That I experienced the same sort of delectable noms with deliberately different choices from my norm of ordering just added to the satisfaction, and just pushes me further and further into a need to try more. MOAR diversity. Granted, I had eaten enough to power a bustling Metropolis for a week in this most disgusting of indulgent days, but a delightful way to cap it off ^_^. 

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Posted by Enrico - Beddu at 22:30 0 comments
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