The Perfect Weekend

Those of you following me on Twitter will have figured out that I had a bit of an intense week with exams and revising and coursework and other fun tidbits. So it’s an understatement to say that it was a relief to finally make it to the weekend… it was well worth the wait. In fact, I might go so far as saying that it was one of the best weekends I’ve had in a very long time.

It started with quince cheese. A few weeks ago, my partner in chutney/pickle/jam/supperclub crime, Natalie and I were browsing through our local Turkish shop picking up ingredients for what was to evolve into the lime pickle.

Happily browsing through the vegetable section, we came across what I would describe as one of the ugliest fruits I have ever seen in my life. After a bit of rooting around the labels section we saw that the rather unfortunate looking fruit were quinces.

Tick tock went the brain. I have always loved quince jam, and, on my jaunts to Spain, the dusky membrillo (a form of quince cheese). For a long time too, fruit cheeses had rather appealed. 1+1= 2. And that was how the idea of the quince cheese came into being.

Brilliant as things are in theory, sometimes they are a bit trickier to execute in real life, as we found out on Friday night. The rudimentaries of making quince cheese are not that hard to get your head around. Essentially you peel and wash the fruit, deseed it, boil the hell out of it for a few hours, push it through a sieve, add sugar and boil the hell out of it a bit more before putting it into your containers of choice.

If only it was that simple. I’m never a fan of peeling things, however, it was the coring that proved to be a bit of a bitch, to put it politely. Somehow, it was only once that was done, we were a few glasses of bubbly down each and it was past 10pm that we realised that the rest of the recipe was going to take at least 4 hours.


Bubble bubble toil and trouble

What better reason to put on a soundtrack of eighties tracks and err air guitar to Toto – Hold The Line? None that I can think of. It totted up to around 5 hours in total. And at one point it looked like, well, like vomit...



But my goodness, I had a slice yesterday on a slice of Black bomber and it was heavenly.

That alone doesn’t a perfect weekend make. Those who have been reading for a while will know how forthcoming I can be about BAD dates. However, to balance the table a bit, for once I am going to tell you a bit about a good date (two to be precise, in one weekend).

The first involved True Grit and dinner at a local Spanish restaurant Galicia. Those that live within striking distance of Croydon would do well to make a beeline for this empire-sized restaurant who somehow manage to consistently serve up gorgeous tapas time after time in a convivial and friendly setting.

269-275 High St
Croydon CR0 1QH
020 8686 0043

The second involved (hold your breath)…. Leaving London. Well to get to Sussex, which isn’t that far but sadly, is a lot further away from the big smoke than I get most weekends. We went to an absolutely gorgeous place called The Hatch…..

It was delightful. Small, cosy and deservedly popular – you’d do well to reserve a table if you head down on a Sunday, as it was, we bagged the last available table arriving bang on the dot of opening. Though there’s quite a large menu involving quite a few fishy dishes that looked rather tempting, we’d come for the roast and that’s what we got…

The beef was tender, rare, juicy and saucily accompanied as you can see by the usual trimmings and lashings of gravy.



I did not take a picture of the sticky toffee pudding that rolled out for dessert but safe to say, the moment it ended was one of those moments. You know the ones where you honestly wish you could order the same thing right away and relive the unadulterated pleasure without a) feeling sick from being so gluttonous b) your stomach popping open and spraying everyone with the contents of your gut.

Colmans Hatch
East Sussex TN7 4EJ
01342 822 363
http://www.hatchinn.co.uk/

The rest of the day was spent tramping around Ashdown Forest, visiting Pooh Bear’s haunts and generally realising how overrated growing up is and how fun jumping in the mud with your wellies is. Maybe not quite enough exercise to burn off the luncheon calories but dammit, a pretty good way to start anyway.



And there we have it, the perfect weekend. Lets hope there are many more to come.

The Salt Yard

There are a good number of decent tapas restaurants in London and then there are those that are a cut above the rest. Salt Yard would like to think it belongs to the latter category but I'm not so sure.

Let's set the scene. It was a Friday night and we were having a reunion of all the Dubai folk who, by some freak of coincidence were in London at the time. Nothing suits a good cath up better than tapas - the sharing of food, a bit of sangria or wine.

First off, I would like to point out that any restaurant that has two sittings on a Friday night is never going to get an unreserved thumbs up from me. Especially when it is a group of ten people. Nothing puts the pressure on a nice, relaxed meal like a waitress reminding you every five minutes of the limited time you have your table for. The moment we sat down, a few minutes later than our 7.30pm booking she was already champing at the bit for us to get ordering and reminding us that we only had the table until 9.30. 9.30? I dont remember the last time I sat down for dinner with a group of nine other people and managed to eat pleasurably in less than 2 hours - but apparently, that is de rigeur at this 'homely' little restaurant.

By the end of the night, I felt like the subject of a precision-planned militiary operation - we were almost shunted out the door by 9.45. I personally am not interested in whether the restaurant wants to maximise their takings, I'm interested in sitting down, enjoying my food and wine and having a nice chat with my friends.



Rant aside, I'm going to put forward an objective view of why Salt Yard really could do better. Some of the dishes were outstanding - cauliflower flowers stuffed with goats cheese encased in the lightest batter were a treat to eat - perfectly seasoned and avoiding the pitfall of blandness we so often find with this dish.

The chorizo with marinated peppers was also something to write home about - not to gristly and with a depth of flavour that had us all reaching over to grab another slice while we thought no one was looking. But congratulating a spanish restaurant on great chorizo feels a bit like congratualating a Japanese restaurant for a tasty piece of sashimi. Its so obvious it's almost farcical.

There were definitely other highlights to the meal the Chargrilled Neck Fillet of Lamb, Crushed Jerusalem Artichokes and Salsa Verde perfectly balanced the melting softness of the lamb with the kick of the salsa and the Roasted Scallops with Caramelised Cauliflower Puree, Hazlenuts and New Season Garlic was a tasty, if utterly predictable take on scallops.

But there were far more disappointing dishes than I reasonably expect to find in a restaurant like this - Confit of 'Gloucester Old Spot' Pork Belly with Rosemary Scented Cannellini Beans offset a delicious pork belly with under-seasoned, nigh on flavourless beans. If one of my perfumes scented me in the same way the rosemary had supposedly scented the cannelini I'd be back in the shop and demanding a refund pretty pronto. The crispy egg with giolles and balsamic was so bland I barely remember tasting it, apart from the balsamic.

All of this would have been easily overlooked were it not for the fact that the service was fairly atrocious. As I mentioned before, there were ten of us, including one vegetarian. We'd asked the waitress to bring a selection of the dishes for us to share, presuming that she would bring out enough of each one for at least most of us to try.

That was, apparently, a presumption too far. Considering that the serving size of each of the tapas plates is paltry at best, I calculated that it would take three of each to ensure that everyone had a piece, so was duly baffled when the waitress kept on turning up with one dish of this and one dish of that.



One dish, four pieces of chorizo that are already fairly miniscule and don't lend themselves to be split into almost invisible portions. Ten people. HOW is this ever going to work?

I'll tell you how, it evolves into a strategic game of guerilla warfare. If you see something you are not overly keen on, you generously pass it down to the other end of the table hoping that next time, when there is something rather irrestible perched in front of you, you can take a piece without feeling guilty. Even then, sometimes you are required to 'fall on your sword' so to speak and pass up.

Ditto for wine, which was always having to be asked for when we'd run out. Nothing major in itself but the little things add up to a bit of a let-down on the service front. Fine if you're in McDonalds, but when I can honestly say I had much better service in La Tasca the week before, I think the Salt Yard has some work to do.

Overall, the night was lots of fun - but it was always going to be - it was old friends some of whom I hadnt seen in yonks. But when I'm presented with a £45 bill for tapas at the end of the night, I expect to have thought it was worth it and I can't honestly say this was the case

Waiting rating: Sloppy
Scoffing potential: Good - some blindingly good, some blindingly bland
Wallet buddy: Expensive for tapas
The crowd: On a Friday - fun, friendly and quite loud
54 Goodge St
London
W1T 4NA

Tel: 020 7637 0657