Food and family

So some people see food and fuel. And I feel sorry for them. In our (Jewish, of course) family, we ate to celebrate, we ate to commiserate. We provided food because it's hospitable. If there's one thing all the women in my family have in common, it's that we feel we've let people down if they leave our house without wanting their stomach pumped.

So I recently got back in touch with an estranged branch of my family- a half-sister, three nieces, a nephew and a great-nephew. It's all been a bit weird but really positive and has made me very happy. So one on my new nieces held a bbq and invited us - my sister and her partner would be there, my niece (obvs) who I've met before and her partner (who I haven't), his parents and various other friends, as well as a niece I hadn't met before. It's fair to say I was pretty nervous about it really so I did what I always do - bake something to take (peanut butter brownies). And off we trooped to deepest Essex.

And you know what, it was great. And I have genuinely never seen so much food at a barbeque. Delicious sausages from a local butcher in Suffolk, ribs, burgers and really tasty jerk chicken. I am not a huge fan of hot food but niece's partner had taken his mum's advice and made them both subtle and plentiful There were platters upon platters. His mum had also made Jamaican dumplings, which I can only describe as a slightly sweet dough, fried. I ate about 20 of them and eventually gluttonboy had to stage an intervention to stop me eating the whole tray.

So what's the point of this? It's that people share values and it is one of life's pleasures to share time with people whose values you share, even if you don't have much in common apart form that. And the pleasure of sharing good food with nice people you enjoy being with and getting to know is surely one of the nicest pleasures of all.

GG

Hunkering in a Bunker

Unless you're on the sort of holiday where you don't even read four-day-old copies of the Daily Mail, you will have noticed that many places in London were, last week, under seige from 12 year olds equipped with a PAYG blackberry and their older sister's scarf wrapped around their head, intent on robbing a pair of Nikes from Footlocker.

I live in Peckham, which is very much the South-East London badlands at the best of times and last week we were even more front line than usual, which resulted in the Tesco Express next door being boarded up for a week, plus the one a 5 minute walk away. My local big supermarket was also closed for a time, and the main street through Peckham was also closed to both traffic and people on foot. Which, all in all, has caused a fair bit of inconvenience, shopping wise.

What has this got to do with food? Well more than you'd think. As we have the little Tescos so close by and only a small fridge, we only shop as and when we need it. We don't have a freezer and aren't eating pasta/rice so have fewer store cupboard options. So when the shops locally are shut and the only ones open are the corner shop, what do you eat?

Post-riot, I had long-life madeleines for breakfast. GluttonBoy had a Mars muffin. For lunch I had a pot noodle and a packet of crisps. How quickly the norms of civilisation break down, right?

Which brings me to the main point. If there's one part of cooking that gives me endless amounts of satisfaction, it's preserving. A row of jars, neatly labelled and ready to be distributed while wearing a floral pinny and a self-satisfied smile, fills me with warmth and, have to be honest, some smugness.

This is a peak time of year for the jammy jammer. I particularly love preserving fruits you can't find in the shops. Damsons are a particular favourite and find themselves in jam, chutney and also some kind of white spirit, usually voddy or gin. Tbh, after the last chutney batch which took me HOURS to take the fricking stones out, I now usually sling them in a kilner with some sugar and gin and hope for the best.

I also love greengages with a passion and my nice local greengrocer in Herne Hill is overrun with them. Six jars of slightly runny jam are now ready for eating. Of course strawberry is the classic, but unless you have access to a PYO it can be a bit expensive. But the pleasure of serving homemade jam with homemade scones is pretty priceless. We bought a flat last year, largely for two reasons - it had a garage and there's an apple tree in the communal garden. Apples have ripened early this year and each neighbour recieved a jar of spiced apple chutney as a little treat. The look on their faces was worth the lingering smell of boiling vinegar.

Now I'm not saying that a shelf-ful of chutneys will keep us in rations if we need to pull up the drawbridge, but preserving appeals to a deep sense of self-preservation which, in these times of instant gratification, can help us all feel a bit more grounded and rooted.

GG

Village People

Now there is nothing that GluttonBoy and I like more than a bit of fine dining - a starched tablecloth, a highly trained and synchronised front of house crew, the theatre of the presentation of the dishes at table. But regular readers will also know that we also love a bit of rough- Meatwagon burgers at the pub next door, mac n cheese in front of the telly, fish and chips at the beach.

In the UK it sometimes feel like you have to be in one camp or the other. One of the reasons we love reading Saveur magazine from the US is that it celebrates home cooking and dirty (in the nicest way) cooking as well as cheffy cooking and a fancy resto.

So GB and I haven't seen much of each other of late, and with a Sunday in front of us and weather a bit unpredictable, I persuaded him to accompany me to Brixton Village. Despite only being a hop, skip and jump away, we don't often get to Brixton but we'd both been hearing tons about Brixton Village online. We're always late to the party but in case you don't know, BV is what the old Granville Arcade (a rundown, 1930s covered arcade) has become. It is home, possibly most famously, to the Thai restaurant Kaosarn, reviewed glowingly by the Observer's Jay Rayner and, most excitingly to me (as I love ice cream more than almost anything else) a artisan gelateria called Lab G which purports to offer an amazing salt caramel variety (I should also say I love salt caramel more than almost anything else too).

From the entrance we found, it didn't look promising. Happily, we couldn't have been more wrong and spent the next hour with a look on our faces like we'd found the promised land. It's a mix of great food shops and mini cafes/restos... some not much more than a couple of enthusiastic owners and a bench or two. Honest does burgers and triple cooked chips, Cornercopia has a cafe on one side doing really seasonal modern Brit/Euro food from brekkie to early evening, Agile does pizza/calzone and there were a few coffee shops, a cake place, a sweetie shop, a bunch of Colombian grills and probably lots more that I can't remember. And of course Kaosarn.

I'll be honest, I've never been a huge fan of Thai. I don't really like spicy food and if there is one foodstuff I'd ban if I was in charge it would be coriander. But I'm quite bossy normally so let GB decide for once and I'm super-glad I did, because it was delicious. I had a chicken Pad Thai and it was incredibly light and fragrant. GB had lamb mossoman - the lamb was so tender you could cut it with a spoon, the sauce was sweet and light and full of flavour. Neither was especially hot and I am partcularly glad to report that the coriander was large and on top of the food so easy to pick off and discard. It's also family run and the ladies were hugely friendly and we can't wait to go back. I really want to try an Honest burger but really, if I'm going to eat a burger I'll go next door to Meatwagon so I think Kaosarn is the one for me at the Village. Not bad for a coriander hater.

So, ice cream, the point of the visit. They were out of salt caramel, which I don't mind as it means I'll HAVE to go back and so I went for panna cotta - happily one of my top-5 desserts. Creamy but not heavy in the way premium ice cream brands are, fresh, sweet, creamy. I wanted to wolf it down and in fact I did. There, I said it. I wolfed it down and I will be back for more without any question at all.

BV also has some great shops - vintage women's and menswear, interiors, young designers. It's a fantastic initiative which, while it has clearly brightened up a much unloved and rundown area, is so much more than a wishful-thinking initiative. And welcome much more than local hipsters, especially with children. Its not worth supporting just because it's a right on thing to do, to support local traders, but its worth supporting because they offer a unique proposition - good food, good places to eat and drink, nice things to buy, a fun place to do it, a buzz you want to enjoy.

With love

GG

An homage to Norway

As I have mentioned many times, both GluttonBoy and I have an abiding love for Norway and Norwegians. We have a couple of very close Norski friends and try to visit them in a couple of times a year. And there are a couple of reasons we love Norway so much, and a couple of stories illustrate it:

(The details might be a bit sketchy here) In WW2, the German fleet sailed a boat up the Oslofjord. Bearing in mind Norway had given shelter to Jews when other countries had simply handed them over, this was a big deal, so the boat was scuttled, with all souls on board heading for the icy drink. The Norwegians, fearful that sailors would drown, jumped into boats and rescued them. There were no 'Gotcha' headlines here.

A few years ago, we went to stay with our friends in Norway. We talked about immigration and other issues and he mentioned that there had been some incidences of assault in East Oslo, by immigrants. The media had taken the view that, while it was of course important that the perpetrators were punished, wider society had somehow failed them as they didn't feel part of Norwegian society. It was therefore the responsibility of Norway to help them integrate. Imagine the Daily Mail writing something like that. Now stop imagining before your head explodes.

While there are loons anywhere, it seems particularly hard that a trusting, open, truly just and equitable society should have something like this. And because I love Norway so much, and this is ostensibly a food blog, I'm going to list the many things I like about Norway, despite it not really having a foodie culture per se:

They are obsessed with hotdogs (polse). You can (and do) buy them everwhere. Every party or gathering includes polse. With mustard, ketchup and sometimes potato salad. And sometimes in a thin potato pancakey wrap called a lompe.

Their idea of a good night out is to take a cake to someone's house.

They make amazing cakes, buns and bread.

They have a mandated school bun. This is so no-one has a better or worse bun than anywhere else.

They believe in going for a long walk, uphill, in rubbish weather, then stopping off for a bun. Bliss.

There is a log cabin cafe/restaurant outside Oslo, up the mountain, that sells the most delicious apple pie with cream.

Holiday dip mix - a spice mix you put in sour cream

Waffles - always served with strawberry jam and sour cream

Kransekake - an almond ring cake served at Christmas

Milk chocolate, especially with Daim bar pieces

Jelly ladies - they have boobs

So, eat Norwegian, be Norwegian, you know it makes sense.

GG.

Doing it standing up

When I was a child, there were a couple of hard and fast eating rules. As my dad always had company cars, we were never ever allowed to eat or drink in them. Not even travel sweets. This has left me with an abiding memory of bolting down a mivvi standing next to the car (boiling hot), hopping up and down on roasting tarmac while dad impatiently revved the engine.
The second rule was that my mum thought eating on the move was 'common'. Even fish and chips at the seaside were eaten not (as I am now obsessed with doing) sitting on a sea wall out of the paper but in a restaurant, with a knife and fork. I used to sneak to the chip shop to get a bag of chips with my friend Jackie and eat them at the bus stop and felt ridiculously sneaky. Even now, eating on the run feels transgressive. I frequently bolt lunch while on the train, en route to meetings or whatever, and it doesn't seem right- like I'm not concentrating enough on what I'm doing.
It's fair to say then, that street food would generally leave me cold, although I love the idea of it - as I said, I love fish and chips at the beach and necking back an oyster while strolling along the harbour in Whitstable. However, I am clearly alone in this as London is in the grip of a street food frenzy, and apologies if I am late to the party.
We've been meaning to visit Meatwagon for ages, and when it moved to New Cross we had lots of plans to go. But both Mr Glutton and I are more lazy than we are greedy and it never really happened but when they moved into the pub next door, we were excited beyond words, particularly as the pub had previously been owned by people who were exceptionally RUDE to us! The Rye celebrated their opening by hosting Eat Street - a street food festival that featured lots of London's best loved vans and as an opener, we had Big Apple Hot Dogs. Now I love hot dogs, and these were beauties. Massive, grilled, covered in ketchup, mustard and sourkrout and wrapped in a soft and tasty roll- miles away from the bland pap rolls normally on offer. I only managed one (although it was ENORMOUS) but Mr G managed two as he is very tall and so has more space for gluttony. BAHD can also be found in Old Street but follow on twitter to find them.
Next up, and hotly anticipated, was Meatwagon. Burgers. Cheese. Buns. Seriously, what's not to like. In a week, we went three times. Excellent burgers, excellent buns. Cheese. I'll say no more except that Meatwagon is using the Rye's kitchen as a development kitchen , a state of affairs of which I heartily approve. Also, fries and their rightly-famous onion rings are also on offer so, again, follow on Twitter for more info.
We've been hearing a Twitter buzz (because we are seriously at the bleeding edge of food trends) about Pitt Cue Co - a food truck underneath Hungerford Bridge offering a frankly unbeatable combination of barbeque and booze. It was raining, it was cold, but barbeque and a brilliant busker crooning Vegas-era Sinatra is enough to lift anyone's moods so I didn't even mind eating standing up, for once. I had pulled pork (tender, porky) with barbeque sauce and red cabbage coleslaw. Unfortunately they committed the unforgivable sin of putting me within 2 feet of coriander by including it in the coleslaw but the pork was incredible so I am tempted to ignore that slip. Mr G had the 'pickle back and skin' - a shot of bourbon, a shot of pickle juice and a small cup of what I assume was deep fried crackling. I selflessly took some of the crackling off his hands but thankfully he didn't need any help with the bourbon and juice. He found it interesting.
Lastly in our street food odyssey has been a bit of Mexico with Buen Provecho. It was a hot day, I love Mexican food and I couldn't be arsed to cook. Tacos (pulled pork, chicken mole) and quesadillas - spicy, packed with flavour, light.

My conclusion? There are times when you want tablecloths and waiters and times when you want pork juice running down your arm in the rain. Just make sure you have plenty of tissues.

Lots of love

GG

Alright cupcake

So, as you may have realised, I am partial to a bit of baking and actually, I'm not half bad at it. But lately, what with me being on reduced rations and GluttonBoy being off-carbs, the old mixing bowls have started to gather dust. Plus, I am also used to being the queen bee baker and have had my nose rather put out of joint lately by the arrival in the office of a quite spectacular baker. Grr.

Anyway. An office birthday always needs a cake, so out came the new Hummingbird Cake Days and off I went. It's not everyday you make a cake with sodastream syrups in - but cola cakes and lemonade cakes demanded it.

And they were delicious! The sponge was light with just a hint of soda, the icing was sweet and light and there wasn't too much of it. I wanted to sprinkle with popping candy just before serving but there seems to be a popping candy drought in south London so that plan was thwarted.

The best thing of all was the chorus of 'mmmmms' all round the office. Baking is nice, but baking for other people is the nicest of all.

The recipe (slightly altered, sorry):

take 240g flour, 80g softened butter, 1/4 tsp salt and mix in a mixer until breadcrumb-like

Mix 2 eggs with 40mls whole milk and 1tbsp sodastream cola mix. With the mixer going like blazes, drizzle the liquid in and beat until light and fluffy.

This makes 16 cupcakes for me - fill cases 3/4 full and bake at 190 for about 20 mins.

Ice when cool:

500g icing sugar

140g butter

2 tbsp syrup

20mls whole milk

Beat like fury again until light. Top with a cola bottle for full effect.

Here's a pic -

With love - GG.

Settenden Mai

Now, as I may have mentioned, I love Norway. I have two very close Norski friends but our love of the frozen North goes much further. You would think, as two gluttons, that we wouldn't especially love Norway as it doesn't really have a food culture. But you'd be wrong. People have so much of a different life and different values - being outdoors, taking time, equality of opportunity - these seem to be intrinsic to their way of life. We go at least once a year to spend time with friends who live in rural Norway, in a wooden Captain's house in village on the Oslofjord. There must be about 50 people who live there year round but in the summer it swells. Summer is a brilliant time - we sit on the veranda overlooking the fjord, having a barbeque, swimming in the coldest water ever, drinking homemade cherry vodka. It doesn't get dark.

And any country that has a special word for cosy, warm companiable time you spend with friends is fine by me. And that word is Hyggle (pronounced higg-el-le).

I'll write another time about Norwegian baking, but 17th May is Norway Day, quite a big deal, so that is what we celebrated.

Anyone who's been to a Scandi country (or Ikea) will have noticed their obsession with hotdogs - in Norway called a Polse. Which they serve everywhere and at any time of day (on the beach, at parties), in either bread (brod) or my favourite, lompe - a sort of potato wheat pancakey wrap.

Mustard (sennep) and ketchup obligatory. Potato salad (potet salat) and onions are also common.

We finished with waffles - another Norge tradition, in the heart shape. Traditionally served with sour cream and home made strawberry jam, we settled for bonne maman and squirty cream. We're nothing if not classy. And, for breakfast, a cinnamon bun, but that is another story.