Antonio Carluccio - The Collection

Antonio Carluccio is the greedy Italian who launched the popular restaurant chain and has graced cooking programs for as long as I can remember.
He encapsulates everything that's synonymous with Italian cooking, big, colourful and a stickler for tradition.
They are three words which could just as easily be applied to his newest recipe book, The Collection, a hefty volume which documents 300 of his favourite recipes.
From the spinach balls he invented himself 25 years ago, the panzanella his mother cooked him as a child because it was cheap, to traditional Sicilian recipes that have been around for hundreds of years, it almost serves a history of his own journey through Italian food.
Whilst the expected traditional dishes are present the vast majority of recipes in the book try to bring the reader a new selection of Italian food that you won't find in the typical Italian restaurants on the high street.
An extensive and imaginative section on Antipasti provides many unusual suggestions, such as buttered chestnuts and the pages on Italian pickling give the serious foodie a good project for a rainy weekend.
This extensive book could easily feel impersonal as it covers so much ground, however, splattered with quotes from Carluccio's own experiences it becomes a warm, colourful guide.

There are serving suggestions, introductions to the origins of particular dishes but ultimately you get the impression this is simply a collection of the foods he likes to eat, as unedited, larger-than-life and big (on flavour) as he is.

His meticulous eye for detail and love of food pours from the pages as he suggests the best ingredients, some of which, Alpine butter, Ceps and Cardoon (artichoke thistle), will be tricky to find in the local Tesco.

Carluccio himself doesn't have this problem of course, as we see him in the forest foraging for mushrooms then happily rushing home to cook and eat them with all the glee of a child whose just raided the local sweetshop. 

Recipes that caught my eye were Black Angel Hair with Scallops, Rice Bomb with Truffle, Ricotta Dumplings with Porcini Sauce and the majestic looking 'Polenta on the table'. Importantly, all of which felt achievable, no-one wants a book full of intimidating dishes they wouldn't dare try to replicate.

The highest praise for this book is that it made my stomach rumble, my mouth water and me want to get straight into the kitchen and start cooking.

Whilst The Silver Spoon has long been regarded as the bible for Italian cooking, The Collection is like being handed down a true Italian Nonna's own kitchen notes. Simple, uncomplicated cooking and you just know every recipe is going to be delicious.


Buy this book here

Homeslice - Seven Dials

Just to put things into perspective, that's a person's arm just visible in the shot above, not a child, not a hobbit, not a borrower, a person.
See how said arm is dwarfed by the gargantuan sized mega-pizza?
Observe how the giant pizza makes the arm appear to be the size of a topping on it's moon-like doughy base.
'Pimping food,' is a phrase often used but in the world of pizza, Homeslice has the monopoly, having made the largest pizza I have ever been lucky enough to set eyes (and teeth) upon.
London is now happily brimming with delicious, informal and affordable pizza places and Homeslice is the latest offering.
Homeslice originally started life as a mobile wood-fired oven in the courtyard of London Fields Brewery and two years later it's relocated to Neil's Yard.
I visited early on a week night and the place was already bursting at the seams, which meant cozying up to two strangers in order to get a table.
It's has the intimate, elbow-to-elbow seating that's become the norm in many places in London and only adds to the friendly atmosphere of the restaurant.
The guys on hand were personable, attentive and rather than 'serving' made it feel as if you had gone over to their house for the evening.
Pizza is served by slice, whole, or can be chosen half-and-half, we went for the Soppresata (salami with fennel) and rocket and the artichoke and courgette.
Other, very tempting options were white anchovy and chard with Doddington cheese, my 'date' hates fish (and yet I'm still friends with her) so I couldn't go for this, bone marrow and watercress and the more traditional caprese and margheritia.
All are the same price, £4 for a slice and £20 for one (or two halves) of a whole pizza.
I felt flattered that the man serving us reassured us with "don't worry girls, it's a very thin pizza so you will be able to get through it," as if it were ever going to be a problem.
Drinks wise the only choice was by colour, rose, white, or, red, which was served in gigantic (sensing a theme) bottles which are then measured when you leave to assess how much you have drank and therefore how much you will be charged.
Incredibly dangerous for me but I liked the concept none the less and the red wine they had selected was delicious, an Argentinian Malbec.
The pizza itself was thin with crunchy crusts but a soft, moist middle that could be folded in half.
The artichoke was oily but firm enough that it didn't disintegrate when you bit into it, complimenting the soft and delicate courgette. It was slightly sweet and summery and despite wolfing down several slices, felt light.
Soppresata was a revelation for me, I don't think I've eaten it before and the flecks of fennel within it added an aniseed flavour, spiced up by the peppery rocket.
Both toppings were punctuated with soft pillows of cheese which gave a creamy depth but didn't drown the delicate flavours.
Oh and yes, we did finish all of it.
This is where I will be eating pizza for the forseeable future.

Romesco Dipping Sauce

Romesco is a Spanish sauce and the ingredients tend to be altered depending on what it's being served with. It goes best with seafood, charred vegetables like Artichoke, or, is perfect for dipping home made flatbread in (recipe here) or whatever you have hanging around.

It keeps for a couple of days which means, like me, you can casually produce it when a friend unexpectedly pops over, leaving them in awe of your brilliant Italian-Nonna-esque kitchen skills.
Alternatively, you could wolf it all down yourself which would have probably been my preferred option....

You Will Need

- 2 chillies
- 1 tbsp smoked paprika
- 1 red pepper
- Olive oil
- 1 slice of bread
- ½ onion, chopped
- 2 tomatoes, peeled, seeded and chopped
- 1 garlic clove
- 50g blanched almonds, roasted
- 25g hazelnuts, roasted
- White wine, to taste
- Red wine vinegar, to taste
- 2 anchovy fillets

 1. Preheat the oven to 220C/gas 7. Chop your chillies and grind into a paste with the garlic clove in a pestle and mortar. Set aside.

2. Meanwhile, place the pepper on a baking tray and roast until soft and blackened on the outside, about 30–40 minutes. Remove the skin.

3. While you’re waiting to peel your pepper, heat a drizzle of olive oil in a frying pan on a medium-low heat, then fry the bread on each side until golden and quite crisp. Remove from the pan, allow to cool, then finely chop and set aside.

4. Gently sauté the onion then add the tomato and a splash of water. Bring to the boil then simmer for 15 minutes.

5. Bash the nuts into a dust in the pestle and mortar then add them, the pepper, tomato sauce, chilli and garlic along with the other ingredients, to a food processor and whizz until it forms a paste.

Posh Kebab Three Ways With Homemade Flatbread, Balsamic Halloumi and Cucumber Salad

Kebabs are not just for post piss-up journeys home to mop up the inevitable hangover, although, that is the first thing that springs to mind when you think of them.
That and the eternal question, what is actually in those doner kebabs and why do they look like a really worn out dirty carpet?
I'm a meat snob, the recent horse-gate has seen me say, 'I told you so,' worryingly often, so I've only been into kebab shops to procure some under the counter alcohol after hours, as I'm certainly not a snob when it comes to drinks, mores the pity.
This is a posh kebab because it's not being consumed on Clapham high St following a night in Infernos but in truth it's very low maintenance.
I served this as an informal dinner, with the chicken marinaded in three different ways so the flavours could either be mixed, or, chosen depending on how much spice you can handle!

To serve four you will need:

Chicken
- Four chicken breasts
- 1 lemon
- 4 tsp garlic puree
- 4 tsp olive oil
- 1 small chilli, diced
- 3tsp parprika
- 1tsp Harissa paste
- a handful of fresh thyme

Flatbreads:
- 250 g self-raising flour, plus extra for dusting
- 250 g yoghurt 
- ½ teaspoon baking powder 
- 1 jalapeno chilli, finely sliced

1 whole cucumber 
1 tbsp yoghurt
1 block of halloumi
2 tbsp balsamic glaze
handful of fresh mint 

1. For the chicken:

I took four chicken breasts and marinaded two in:
Lemon juice, fresh thyme, garlic, salt and pepper, a little olive oil.
And one each in:
Harissa paste, fresh chilli, a little olive oil, garlic, salt and pepper.
Paprika, garlic, salt and pepper, a little olive oil.

 2. I then skewered them, keeping each flavour separately and placed under a very low grill, making sure I turned them regularly.





3. I basted my halloumi in a balsamic glaze, sliced cucumbers lengthways and seasoned and put to the side.

4. I then started on my home made jalepeno flatbreads which came from a Jamie Oliver recipe here
and after making put them to the side.

5. I then fried my halloumi in a frying pan, turning and removing when both sides were brown.

6. I mixed chopped mint and yoghurt with my cucumber salad and served.

Tonkotsu - Soho

For a real glutton like myself ramen is the closest I probably get to health food and I'm aware that that's still not really very close but in comparison to the buttery, cheesy, oily foods I favour, it's positively saintly.


With the second round of that particular months lurgy of choice I was feeling sneezy, grumpy and all the other dwarves including a new one I invented, 'sorry for myself'.
At times like this my body which has previously never had much of affinity with soups let's me know I need chicken, noodles, and litres of stock, to restore me.
So, here was Tonkotsu, my gleaming Florence Nightingale, in Soho on Dean Street, with it's huge vats of home-made elixir, waiting for me as I walked in the entrance.


I'm a massive fan of the no-booking policy in some restaurants and although it can lead to ridiculous queues (bubbledogs, Meatliquor) it means that instead of having to think ahead about what we might want to eat a week on Tuesday, we can have what we want at that moment (as long as everyone else doesn't fancy it that day too, in which case you might be waiting outside in the cold for a while).
Thankfully, Tonkotsu had a very small queue on the Wednesday evening we went and after seating a big group we were brought to our table after only a five minute wait.


It's a well-thought out but compact little place, there isn't a huge amount of elbow room and my friends and I concluded that we should probably stop going to places with such an 'intimate' seating policy when we want to have, well, 'intimate' conversations.

The menu is relatively small and incredibly effective, it shows a confidence in their food, which, having eaten there is entirely justified.

We ordered a delicious bottle  of wine from their 'natural wine' menu which is very reasonably priced (ours was £16) and is updated and changed. 

 To start we shared some prawn and pork gyoza (both £5 for 5 dumplings).
I have to admit, I've never been particularly excited by dumplings of any kind but having tasted the Tonkotsu gyoza, it feels like this is the first time I've tried one. Nothing else I've had, labelled as goyza, or, dim sum, in other restaurants, compares to this.
With a crispy shell on top and doughy pillow on the bottom it was a light, perfectly flavoured, parcel and I would have quite happily eaten all of them to myself.


For our main course we each ordered a different ramen. I had the vegetarian based Shimeji, Shiitake & Miso Ramen (£9), my friends had Tokyo Ramen (£9) and the Tonkotsu Ramen (£11).
Now, in terms of dinner, £11 for a main course is cheap, in terms of ramen it is not.
It seemed a little overpriced before we received the main course, especially since each dish was made mainly from stock, a relatively cheap ingredient. However, when the food arrived and we had a taste it seemed justified especially bearing in mind the the obvious time and effort lavished upon it and the quality of the ingredients.


The Tonkotsu Ramen was a sea salt-based pork stock with thin noodles topped with slices of melt-in-the-mouth pork belly. It was deep and earthy and had a pungent, strong flavour that sort of knocked you out and repaired you at the same time.
The Tokyo Ramen has a soy-base instead with a pork and chicken stock and medium thick noodles topped with mirin and soy marinated pork belly. It was mellow, with a less overpowering taste but still thick and satisfying.
The vegetarian Ramen was miso-based with konbu and shiitake stock with shimeji mushrooms, medium thick noodles, a handful of bean sprouts and bamboo shoots. The lightest of all in flavour it was delicate, subtle and just as delicious.
Each also came with a seasoned soft-boiled egg, floating on top of the stock like an ingredient in a witches' brew.

Just as goldilocks did we tasted each dish to see which one was 'just right' and each of us preferred a different ramen (not necesarily the ones we ordered for ourselves).
I liked the soy base, medium thick noodles and the pork and chicken stock, it was the right level of intensity between the pork stock and miso base.
I also added in a drizzle of the delicious Tonkotsu chilli-oil which is now for sale.
I loved being in control of the level of heat in my stock but I can't think of anything this oil wouldn't go with.
Unlike the greasy attempts at chilli-oil in some high street pizzerias, you only needed a dribble to get the intensity of the chilli, instead of having to coat your food in oil to get any heat. Everyone commented on how delicious the oil was and I certainly intend to go back and buy some for myself.


Usually, this gathering of girls, use dinner as a guise to catch-up, gossip and discuss whose won the accolade of the most calamitous experience this week. However, we all fell into silence, our ramen dictated attention.
Instead of the usual cackling around a table (which would of fitted quite well with our witches brews) we were concentrated on our food, finding the noodles in the stock and discovering different components that were lurking below.
We wolfed down our noodles instead of chatting so much we worked through our meal slowly, which meant that, for usually slow eaters, our meal was ordered, eaten and paid for in just over an hour. 

Whilst it seems more like somewhere to come for a quick, delicious dinner when you are in the area, rather then languish in for hours on end, the friendly staff certainly weren't trying to hurry us out.
Not only did I have the best ramen and gyoza I have ever eaten but I left feeling like i'd had a big bowl of food-hug TLC.

My Sort of Mexican

I'm a fully-fledged burrito addict, hardly a week goes by without some kind of stuffed tortilla with all the trimmings finding it's way into my hands.
In fact, it's not just burritos. Whether a fajita, enchilada or chimichanga I'm pretty indiscriminate when it comes to Mexican food and I like to think this isn't just because I have a semi-dependent relationship with Margaritas and they go so chuffing well together. 
I've had this dusty old Mexican recipe book hanging around in my house ever since I stole it from my sister a few years ago (soz). I loved the idea of recreating some of the Mexican food I'd tried on the Tijuana border when I visited from California but it never materialised.
I blame this partly on me getting my mex-fix from the incredible takeaway burrito places on offer in London AND because the recipe book is pretty naff.
It's the sort of one that was written long ago when the nature of having foreign food was so threatening that they sort of anglicised the dishes so they weren't too intimidating. I have an Indian cook book from the same kind of era which has a recipe for a baked potato with curry powder and cottage cheese, named 'curry potato'.
So, when I decided to branch out I thought I would recreate a white fish taco I had in San Diego in an incredible Mexican restaurant the way I remember it.
Unfortunately, we don't have the abundance of fish that they do there, I couldn't get my hands on any tilapia so decided to go for cod instead which worked really well.
I served my fish tacos in a sort of DIY way, with a mango salsa on the side, and a sour cream and cheese roasted butternut squash to go alongside it which isn't 100% authentic but tastes good.
To start I made a chipotle prawn dish with an avocado salsa and freshly-baked tortilla chips (had to get them in somewhere).
It was a really light meal which meant that having drank an entire jug of margaritas I didn't make the pudding that I was supposed to and instead danced around my kitchen. Two out of three isn't bad.


 To serve four you will need:

 For the starter
 250g uncooked prawns
 1 avocado
 6 ripe tomatoes
 2 fresh wheat tortillas
1 tsp chipotle powder
1 tbsp olive oil
1 lime
1 tbsp tomato puree
1 tsp garlic puree
2 tsp vinegar
1 tbsp coriander
1 tsp chilli powder

For the main course

4 fillets of cod
1 butternut squash
4 tbsp sour cream
50g tangy cheddar cheese
1 mango
coriander
1 red onion
1 lemon
8 tacos
salt and pepper
paprika

For the prawns:

Simply mix the spices with the vinegar, purees, chopped coriander oil and lime juice to make a sort of paste. Sautee your prawns in a hot pan and then pour over the paste, cooking until the prawns are pink.
In a separate pan fry your tortillas (cut into small triangles) until crisp.
Serve with a salsa made from avocado, tomato and lime juice.

For the Tacos:

1. Halve your butternut squash, sprinkle with olive oil, season and roast on a medium heat in the oven.
2. Prepare your salsa, mix the chopped onion with mango, coriander, seasoning and a lemon juice.
3. When you squash is almost roasted start on the fish. Rub a little olive oil and seasoning into the fish and grill on a high heat.
4. Whilst your fish is cooking warm the tacos and take out the squash. Sprinkle the squash with sour cream and grated cheese.
5. When the fish is cooked take out, assemble and try not to drink too many margaritas.

Duck and Waffle, Bishopsgate

Set on the 40th floor of the Heron Tower, just behind Liverpool St station, Duck and Waffle fluffs it's feathers, waiting for it's guests, at any time, to visit London's first twenty-four hour restaurant.
Transported to the summit by an ear-popping high-speed lift journey when you are greeted, seemingly up in the clouds, it feels a little like you've travelled over the border into a different country.
I came to Duck & Waffle for weekend brunch and looking out at the spectacular views gave me that smug, satisfaction, Londoners get when they aren't getting pissed off with a sea of elbows on the tube and instead focus on the good bits of our city.
Thankfully, I got a good look at the view as we waited to be seated because having been introduced to our affable waiter we were seated at the only table which had it's view spoiled by a thick blanket of condensation.
The best views in the city were behind a clouded window which made it feel a little like we were attempting to eat brunch by the side of a steamed up shower door in a penthouse bathroom.
These things happen and the waiter did apologise but it's definitely something to bear in mind when booking.
Thankfully, when the brunch menu arrived the food sounded so glorious we were immediately distracted!
The traditional breakfast fare was there but so were the wonderfully indulgent sounding, duck egg in a brioche basket, all day foie gras breakfast and braised ox cheek with eggs benedict. Wow.
I went for the duck eggs en cocotte served with wild mushrooms, gruyere, truffle and soldiers (£10) and my guest chose the signature duck and waffle, crispy leg confit, duck egg, mustard maple syrup, served on top of a waffle (£15).
Our dishes arrived promptly, were beautifully presented and each glorious mouthful completely lived up to our excitement.
The coddled egg was creamy with a distinct tang of gruyere and luxurious depth from the truffle, my only complaint would be that I would have loved a few more soldiers to dip in with. But then I am a little greedy.
The duck and waffle was incredible, crispy waffle with soft duck and a sweet and savoury sauce that married it all together.
It was so lip-smackingly delicious I wondered why it hadn't tried it before, like rhubarb and custard, a pint and a packet of crisps, duck with syrup and waffles is a perfect pairing.
A trip to Duck & Waffle wouldn't be complete without trying their famous ox cheek doughnut served with apricot jam (£8).
Something so deliciously different, yet familiar, that I struggled to even imagine what it would taste like.
Thankfully we shared the gigantic sweet and although I couldn't have eaten a whole one, the doughnut was one of the most intriguing things I've ever tasted.
It had a doughy centre, the moist juice of the meat in the middle softened the crust, which was crunchy with seasoning, pulled together with the sweet, fruity jam which gave you a burst of sugar.
It's hard not to take a bite and think of the work that has gone into it, it was so gargantuan and boastful it felt like there was something a little 'Henry the Eighth, medieval banquet,' about it.
Taking into account the quality and imagination in the dishes, the thoughtful menu and skyline views of the city, as well as the helpful and cheery staff, Duck & Waffle is very reasonably priced.
I'll definitely be returning, in fact, I've already chosen what I'll have next time......