Ravioli of dreams at Pulcinella

Unfortunately I wasn't able to take a photo of said ravioli (or maybe this just feeds my wistful imagination..)

Pulcinella was booked by La Pezzita's boyfriend for a post-rugby meal, so it was there that six of us made our considerably merry way from the Baa-baa's victory.  

Beer goggles of the tastebuds- there must be a better phrase- are always a bit of a liability, however a plate of bread and olives and some water possibly reduced the risk.

I ate Venison Ravioli.  It came with a sprinkling of flat leaf parsley over a dressing of butter which reflected the basic but spot-on appeal of the whole dish.  The pasta was delicate in both taste- enhanced by the butter and parsley- and texture, while being strong enough to contain a filling of venison.  No discernible spices or anything else to distract from a surprisingly subtle game flavour.  I had originally planned to give the ravioli 10/10 but with a bit of distance- and lashings of banter from The Fisherman- I'm thinking 9/10; the venison was very finely minced, basically pureed, and chopped venison might have been better from a texture point of view.

The Fisherman was with us, and both he and Mr Pezzita were underwhelmed by the size of the portions of pork belly, although they did concede that it was perfectly tender.  

The ravioli portion was small enough that I was still hungry for pudding.  I love marzipan and almonds, especially combined with stone fruits, so the plum and almond tart was the obvious choice.  Tart plums, light, slightly eggy frangipane, with the natural sweetness of the nuts allowed to shine by a fairly plain pastry case, add some whipped mascarpone with a suggestion of rum- what is there not to like? Another 9/10.

http://www.osteriapulcinella.co.uk/menu.html

La Cage Imaginaire

 It was a dark friday evening when The Critic and I ventured out in search of food.  No tables were free in any of the pubs on the main road so we ducked down a side alley as it began to drizzle.  Light reflecting off the rain-wet cobbled street caught our eye and we looked up to see a small restaurant.  One quick satisfactory perusal of the menu board later and we were inside, finding to our delight that they had a table free.

A small time after sitting down and shaking of coats, umbrellas, gloves etc, we realised that this would be an ideal location for some light romancing: French cuisine; candlelight; a rose on the table; some light classical music..it didn't even feel as cliched as it sounds.  We laughed and moved on with suitably gallic shrugging of shoulders; the only love that was in the air for us was that of a hefty gossipy catch-up over great food and drink.

And so the story of serendipity continues.. The grilled halloumi with fig, pecans, cherry tomatoes and rocket worked so well.  It was the first time in the UK that I have tasted fresh figs that live up to their syrupy, delicately sweet promise.  The halloumi oozed with buttery goodness and provided a good textural contrast to the crunch of the pecans and the vegetables.  Balsamic vinegar may be ubiquitous but there's a reason for that: done properly it really enhances and links together sweet/bitter/fruit/acid tastes.  The Critic's scallops also got a very good review, but memory doesn't serve well enough to expand on this theme.

The house wines were confidently tipped by The Critic as "bound to be good; it's a French Restaurant."  The 2009 Marsanne-Sauvignon we enjoyed with our starters was perfect for a house wine- easy to drink but with enough fruit and mineral edge to keep us focussed on the taste.

We both had goose breast for the Main Course. A potentially dry cut from a potentially very fatty bird, the result was very pleasing, not at all dry with delicious crispy skin and solid dark-meat flavour complemented well by red cabbage with apricots and raisins.  The accompanying potatoes dauphinoise were gloriously rich but with distinct egginess.  It says a lot that both The Critic and I were still content to eat them as neither of us is a particular fan of eggs.  

Throughout the meal our chat was littered with comments about how outrageously good the food was, and two heads (with similar standards) are better judges than one.  It worked well for recession dining too, at £30 per head for two courses with wine. The food was 10/10; with the restaurant scoring 9/10 overall.  The only concrete fault I can comment on was over-attentive service with The Critics empty plate being removed while I was still eating my last mouthful.http://www.la-cage-imaginaire.co.uk/

MasterChef Live: The stand that was in the top 1.

Take the fun of trying a new culinary item, multiply it until it fills a large hall, then add a MasterChef show.   I found there was too much going on to actually concentrate on the live show, but in my quest for the hits, misses and maybes among the stands I could live with that.

My top find of the day wasn’t actually edible (or otherwise imbibable) but scores a perfect 10/10.  Used to using cheap, bendy, cutting-at-bizarrely-unintended-angle type knives, I was keen to try out some knives that worked.  Kin Knives (http://www.kinknives.com) had a stand, with their knives on display and a chance to put them through their paces.  The geek streak in me had a dim recollection from chemistry levels about the use of carbon steel for sharp blades, so after a brief similarly geeky chat with the stall holder about laminated steels vs carbon steel vs other tech specs that I have forgotten,  I tried out their carbon steel vegetable knife.

The knife felt amazingly well balanced in my hand, and I forced myself to stay objective to assess how well it cut.  Having got half a tomato skin side up on a chopping board, I gave the edge of the blade the merest suggestion of pressure, and with none of the slippage or resistance usually experienced cutting tomatoes with a non-serrated knife, the blade whispered through the flesh of the tomato, and a small way into the chopping board too.  Effortlessly perfect.   If I can make a knive perform like that, I can only imagine what someone properly trained in knifemanship could do- dreams of silk scarves being thrown into the air and severed mid-flight with a flick of the wrist…

 In the interests of fairness, I also tried out some ceramic knives.  They were good, exceptional even,  but compared to the Kin knife they were like Ikea’s shoddiest.

Oh I was tempted to invest in that knife, and a beautiful stone on which to sharpen it.  The thought of the practicalities of temporary accommodation intervened, but make no mistake, I have found my dream knife.

G and D Ice Cream cafe Oxford.

Good coffee is always welcome.  Good coffee served in an independent café which bills itself as an Ice Cream Café has me salivating at the world of coffee break opportunities.

I have The Geek God to thank for introducing me to G & D's Ice Cream Café- The Geek God has similar priorities to me when it comes to food and drink so I knew it was going to be good.

The Geek God also tipped me off to the fact that they make Stout flavour ice cream.  Naturally this set my curiosity meter to 'high'- would this work? would it be good? if the stout flavours included coffee, would it be a match made in heaven with an Americano? or would I be disappointed and wish I had gone for chocolate ice cream and an overall mocha taste theme?

The first sensation was unsurprisingly a hit of icy smoothness, followed by a definite hoppy tang, with underlying bitterness, and a pervasive creaminess (again unsurprisingly).  I was impressed, the combination of ice cream and stout worked very well even if it did lack the predicted coffee flavours.  That was amply made up for by my coffee which was obviously made from freshly ground beans and served at my perfect strength. Taking a sip of coffee before the ice cream also left heat in my mouth to help melt the ice cream...mmmm.

I'm also left wondering whether a grown-up ice cream float would work, replacing the lemonade with stout.  I will try this out in miniature on some willing friends and report back!

So 9/10 for G&D's, with their excellent food and drinks complemented by a relaxed yet buzzing atmosphere, complete with the scattering of self-consciously cool/studious people you'd expect in Oxford: essay crises via Jack Wills.

This is the website for G&D's:
http://gdcafe.com/FrontPage/frontPage.htm

Marks and Spencer Salted Caramel Chocolate

Having spotted this by the checkout at M&S I knew I had to buy some to greedily devour taste test and blog about as a purely scientific exercise.  Any sweet food which contains a salty or savoury element immediately fires my imagination and taste buds, so I was already enthusiastic about this before I even tried some.  Being M&S too, I was expecting it to be not just any caramel chocolate, but an M&S caramel chocolate.  It didn't disappoint in this respect, being far removed from what is probably it's nearest mass market relation, Cadbury's Caramel.

The bar was 100g, or 12 generous squares (large squares are probably required for a flattish bar with a liquid filling to work).  The chocolate itself was excellent.  It broke with an agreeably crisp snap and melted very smoothly in my mouth.  It reminded me of swiss chocolate though I am sure if it was it would have been blazoned on the pack.  I will return to the flavour of the chocolate later.  

The caramel was quite runny, although again this may be a practical requirement given the dimensions of the bar.  I feel that a chewier caramel adds more textural interest, and a cube or sphere of caramel is my ideal as it is easier for the caramel to shine and the chocolate to play a supporting role rather than the other way around, which was the case here.  I am aware, however, that my mental archetype of a salted caramel is from Galler (http://www.galler.com/index.php).  That was a definite 10/10 when I tasted it- alas, in pre-blogging days- and has inevitably suffered from mental exaggeration of its awesomeness so I try to remind myself not to compare others to it, but I just can't help it.

Back now to the UK in 2010.  The caramel in the M&S version has a perceptible but subtle amount of salt which works well in highlighting the buttery element of the flavour, and by some kind of synaesthetic trick also enhances the smooth mouth feel of the caramel.  Despite this I can't help but feel that if you're going for a salted caramel it's worth really nailing your colours to the mast and going for a more prominence with the salt. I think I'd have to try an salted caramel that overdid it with the salt before I could specify what the happy medium would be.

The chocolate was sweet, and I wondered if it could do with being a bit darker, before realising that the chocolate does need to be sweet to be able to stand up to all the sugar in the caramel. 

This bar has a beautiful, lingering aftertaste of caramel which I absolutely loved, and thus had to chase by eating another square.  Health warning: the huge sweetness of this bar creeps up slowly but after about 6 squares, wow you are aware of it.  

Verdict: a solid 7/10.

Thinking about both  this bar and about lime-tequila-salt shots, I wonder whether salt a) makes things feel smoother in the mouth and b) prolongs a smooth aftertaste. 

Worcestershire Pearmain Apple

Autumn is here. Summer is wonderful, and I have no complaints when September has Indian Summer weather and the carefree summer vibe can linger on. That said, I do love the cosiness of autumn and find a kind of security in the rhythm of autumn days- the best kind of a back-to-school feeling despite being well past school age, with the added promise of evenings curled around a bottle of red wine and snuggling up against the cold.  Part of this romantic ideal of autumn for me is apple season.  I eat at least one apple every day throughout the year but admit that a fair proportion of these are imported from the reliable sun of South Africa when apples are out of season over here.  Now that it's mid-September, however, there is no excuse for such flagrant disregard of food miles.

I stumbled across several different varieties of English apples in the greengrocer's last week and selected one that appealed visually (and didn't yield to a gentle check of firmness..) This was the Worcestershire Pearmain.  Moderately sized and red and green-skinned, these are known for their strawberry flavour; see http://www.orangepippin.com/apples/worcester-pearmain for more details.

I only found out about the strawberry in the course of researching this post, but I did  taste floral and red fruit elements in this variety of apple.  The flesh was relatively crisp- to give an indication of where it falls in terms of red apples I'd say not as crisp as a Braeburn but crisper than your average Pink Lady.  It wasn't powdery at all which pleased me.  It was moderately juicy and with the tastebuds of faith I'd say I can see why people might describe the flavour as strawberry-like.

It pleased me to find this example of seasonal local produce, or at least produce from this country.  I've decided that I've been quite generous with my ratings and maybe need to be a little harsher, so this is getting 6/10.

Pimp my Mint Tea

Mint tea is pretty damn good, balancing as it does the soothing qualities of a warm cuppa with a refreshing mouth tingling zing.  It is drinkable in teabags from the supermarket and it is more delicate but still drinkable in the form of some leaves from the garden macerated (plus or minus a bit of helpful leaf-directed squishing from a teaspoon) in freshly boiled water.

I don't rate the genuine stuff from Morocco as drinkable; saturated sugar solutions aren't my thing, and I find the stewed mint flavour combined with the sweetness nauseating.  I had to politely sip at the stuff on far too many occasions during a holiday in Marrakech until I realised I could wait until The Photographer and The Bellydancer had finished theirs then discreetly swap our glasses. 

It was therefore with mixed feelings that I received a present from The Fiesta: a bag of Moroccan Mint loose herbal tea from The Cragg Sisters Tearoom in Aldeburgh- it could be good, it could be sickly, which way would it go?

Even just opening the bag released such a stream of minty freshness that my sinuses felt comprehensively invigorated.  It consisted of green gunpowder tea leaves mixed with dried peppermint leaves, and best of all for me, no sugar.

A pot of this tea was made in due course and I was delighted that I'd never imagined mint tea could taste this good.   It was the tea equivalent of the difference between freshly ground quality coffee and mediocre instant stuff.  The green gunpowder tea base gives the tea a strong backbone and staying power on top over which the clean taste of the peppermint can shine without becoming overwhelming.  9/10 for head clearing aromatic freshness.