Khao Soi, Northern Thai Curry

If you haven’t been to Thailand, you really should. I recommend spending two weeks exploring north from Bangkok, inland, and then relaxing for two days on a beach at the end before going home. We have such brilliant memories of our eight weeks there, and no more so than a week in the city of Chiang Mai, where we enjoyed the hot northern Thai curry, Khao Soi, as often as we could get it. For whatever reason, it seldom shows up on Thai menus in the UK.

One thing particular to Khao Soi are the condiments: a plate of various things you can add to your bowl as you go along, to your taste. I wish I’d taken a photo, but at our favourite place in Chiang Mai the plate of extras included bunches of about five different herbs, none of which (except the coriander) I recognised. And all of which were uniquely tasty.

So, this Khao Soi recipe isn’t watered down, this is the real deal*. It has a bright, aromatic, chilli heat which is making my mouth water while I type. It really is a dish for those who enjoy some serious spice, but if you want to try a less ferocious one then go down to 1 dried chilli and a half tsp of curry powder.

Khao Soi, Northern Thai curry soup (serves 2)

1 tbsp coriander seed
1 inch piece fresh ginger
2 black cardamom pods
3 big dried chillies
3 shallots
2 tsp turmeric
1 tsp curry powder
1 tsp salt
250ml coconut milk
300ml water
2-3 chicken thighs
1 lime
1-2 shallots
pack mustard greens
bunch coriander leaves
  1. Dry-fry the coriander seed, chopped ginger, cardamom seeds (discard pod), crumbled chillies and chopped shallots together in a pan for a couple of minutes
  2. Wail like a baby as the chilli fumes melt your eyeballs and lacerate your throat. Or make sure you leave plenty of windows open and the extractor on full blast!
  3. Put into a pestle along with turmeric, curry powder and salt then pound the whole lot until you end up with a thick paste. This will take some time!
  4. Pour 150ml coconut milk into a wok or large pan and bring to the boil. Once it is bubbling away, add all the curry paste and stir in. Leave this on a medium heat, stirring regularly, for perhaps 10 minutes or until it has reduced a lot and there is a sheen of oil visible
  5. Add the chicken, cut up as you like, and cook in the paste for 5 minutes
  6. Add another 100ml coconut milk along with 300ml water and leave this simmering for a good 15 minutes. Add a splash of fish sauce, then taste for seasoning and add more fish sauce as necessary
  7. Chop a couple of segments of lime. Pull off a good handful of coriander leaves. Chop up some pickled mustard greens (look in your nearest oriental supermarket). Chop up a shallot or two. These are your condiments, leave them on a plate to be added to the khao soi as you like
  8. Plunge enough noodles for two into boiling water for 3-5 minutes, then drain them and divide into two bowls. Add the chicken and pour on the khao soi curry
  9. Enjoy!

The paste is a hassle to make, so perhaps double the ingredients and make enough for two meals; it will keep happily for a week or two in the fridge, or could be frozen.

* – okay, it’s not quite the real deal. There are a few unusual herbs and spices from Asia that I have still never found in UK shops, so rather than torture you with demands for fresh turmeric root I’ve left it at stuff you ought to get easily enough. The black cardamom and mustard greens are probably still only from specialist Asian food shops, however.

Review: Churchill Arms, Gloucestershire

Is it fair to review a restaurant that you visited on a “special” day? In this case, New Years Day for lunch. My friend Tim was quite prescient in saying “we shouldn’t expect too much, the staff will be tired after last night.” But surely a restaurant should only open its doors if it is going to bring its best game? If they put a note on their website saying “open for New Years Day, but please don’t expect our best” would many, indeed anyone at all, book a table?

So, this is the Churchill Arms, Paxford, a village in the charming Cotswolds which were looking even better for being seen on the first sunny day for the last twenty years (or so it feels). The pub itself is lovely, with all the feel of a country inn that has been evolving its way through the past few centuries to arrive at the cosy lived-in yet classy look it has today. Big inglenook. Random collection of chairs. Photos of pheasant shoots upon the walls. Rugged young professionals in cable-knit jumpers being altogether too chipper on the next table.

I’ll touch very lightly on the twenty minute wait for a table, only ended when I went to remind them we were still waiting. Yes, we had booked. We got two little round pub tables shoved together to make an impromptu and uncomfortable dining place for four. But staff were friendly and coped reasonably well with a room that was frankly

heaving with people all wanting food and drink; it may have meant eating elsewhere, but I could wish that they had refused our booking and given themselves more breathing room. All this may have made us grumpy but I’ll allow it, given this was New Year’s Day.

And my starter was pretty good. A bread-crumbed ham hock terrine, topped with a generous slice of black pudding, some crispy bits of smoky bacon and a dollop of pear puree. This made for a very pleasant meaty overload. My main course was disappointing, though. Salmon fishcakes with poached egg and creamed leek. The fishcakes were so dense as to be beyond dull. You can put too much fish in a fishcake, and these were 110% fully-cooked baby-pink mashed-up salmon. I chewed and gulped my way through as much as I could, also becoming aware of a harsh note of uncooked cayenne pepper on my palate. Maureen’s fish and chips were greasy, the batter not particularly crispy and the tartare sauce lacking any really zing. I asked about the burger across the table and got a non-committal nod, perhaps a “fine”. Sticky toffee pudding and apple crumble were both fine too. The coffee was nasty.

If Harden’s write-up is accurate, we got the Churchill Arms on a bad day. But that’s just tough (for them and us!). I don’t think any restaurant should be opening its doors if it isn’t going to offer the best it can do. Or if it does, it’s going to risk getting a bad review. Because one thing is for sure: there will be more amateur restaurant critics stalking the streets in 2013 than there were in 2012. Happy New Year!

My own 2012 was…

I’d like to thank anyone and everyone that has found my blog over the past year, especially if you’ve left a comment. Nothing moves a blogger more than proof that their words are read, and nothing does that like a comment on a post! This, which just missed being the last post of the year due to too much fun on New Year’s Eve, is just a bit of a round-up of my favourite bites from 2012.

The culinary highlight of the year has to be our pilgrimage to Noma in Copenhagen. Pilgrimage is the right word; in as much as food is a religion for some then Noma has been their culinary Mecca for the last couple of years. Of course, kitchen Messiahs have an even shorter life than religious ones, so I’m glad we visited while it was still cool to do so. And it was an eye-opening experience. It would be wrong to report that every one of the twenty courses was delicious, but all of them were fascinating and most were thought-provoking.

Other meals out that I’ve enjoyed most this year have included: The Gurnard’s Head, that wonderfully cosy inn perched in glorious wind-swept isolation on the Cornish coast just a few miles from Land’s End. Splendid seafood, but it’s the setting that lives in the memory. Odette’s in Primrose Hill and Medlar on the King’s Road stand out for being by far the best examples of modern Michelin-guided French dining in London that I’ve found in ages.

The Butcher’s Arms, Woolhope in deepest Herefordshire, gets the shout for best pub meal of the year; pigeon salad and haggis fritters ain’t your standard pub fayre. The best gastronomic experience in the UK must be Roganic, reminding me again that I need to return to L’Enclume. Most remarkable dining room? Definitely the god’s eye view of London from Duck & Waffle in the City. And a final shout out to Euclid Hall in Denver, the only memorable (and marvellous) meal we had on our US holiday.

I shouldn’t ignore the places we eat at regularly. The fact that they remain favourites year-in, year-out makes them all the more worthwhile. First prize always goes to The Green Cafe in Ludlow. There are lots of places we want to try in Brighton, and yet we always find ourselves tempted back into The Chilli Pickle. And when we’re shopping the West End it’s unusual not to stop for lunch at Fernandez & Wells. Finally, the

annual tradition of Christmas Eve dinner at The Wellington Arms, Baughurst is still going strong.

It would be no fun to mention the good and miss out the bad. The Mail Room was my first chance to be a cutting edge food blogger and review a new opening before anyone else. Okay, so it’s in Ludlow. Unfortunately serial under-seasoning and risotto you could use as construction material isn’t what our town needs. Both our holidays, to France and to the Wild West, were marked by generally duff dining experiences. It all confirmed the old adage: “if you don’t research your dining options in a fairly current food guide before travelling, you’re liable to end up eating rubbish.” Okay, that may not be an old adage but it’s still true.

What about my own cooking? My favourite thing this year is undoubtably learning to cook Tarte aux Myrtilles better than Paul, though I must admit that foraging our own myrtilles (bilberries) made it even better. A couple of really flashy experiments that came out delicious: Pork tenderloin with chestnut sauce, and Singapore black pepper crab.

But the accompaniment to the crab, a deliciously spicy/sweet/sour Thai salad (Som Tam), is the thing that has become a new staple in my repertoire; I make it at least every other week. Our visit to Noma also got me experimenting; Smoked bacon fudge and Hay-smoked mashed potatoes were two of the best outcomes. And another new staple came from Noma: pot-roasted is now the only way to cook cauliflower. Trust me.

So now it’s 2013. What am I looking forward to this year? Well, as mentioned I’d really like to get back to L’Enclume in Cumbria. There are a host of other places around the country I’d like to visit; Sat Bains, Allium, Trinity, the list is effectively endless. But I’m most looking forward to getting stuck into the molecular gastronomy kit I got for Christmas! Expect more playing with food. I also want to try experimental picklings, savoury souffles and get to grips with roasting. What more can I say? Watch this space!

Review: Cambio de Tercio

This bastion of Spanish cuisine in London has been around for a few years and has a great reputation. It doesn’t really need reviewing by me, as every major critic has sung its praises at some point. So let’s call this a check-up, just to make sure they’re still dishing up the goods. I came, I saw, I laughed at the mashed potato. More on that later.

Service is welcoming, friendly and professional from the apparently entirely Spanish crew. The dining room is also vibrantly Spanish, with bold earthen reds and yellows on the walls, dark furnishings, and gaudy paintings of voloptuous figures prancing about with bulls. It’s cosy and relaxed.

We are kicked off with little sticks of crisp lollipops of Manchego cheese. Cliché by now when done with Parmesan, the extra saltiness and sharpness of the Manchego is a nice change. After that we pick tapas to share and then a main course each. No confusion here over what constitutes a “small plate” and just how many would be sensible

to order; the menu gives useful advice and the tapas are all about the same size. The wine list is another intrigue, being enormously extensive and entirely Spanish (if there were any offerings from other countries lurking at the back, I never got that far, losing myself instead in the descriptions of a dozen Spanish wine regions that I’d never heard of). Our sommelier helped us find a brilliant bottle of elegant tempranillo.

The first tapas to arrive was a dish borrowed from El Bulli and elaborated; a de/re-constructed Spanish omelette. It came in a glass and would be best describes as eggy potato soup. It was nice. My problem being that I would have much preferred a piece of Spanish omelette. If you’re going to fiddle with classics, make sure your avant garde experiment at least stands up to the original.

Fear not, it got much better after that. The 8-hour slow-cooked tomatoes had magically transformed into something more akin in texture to a confit fig, with an incredibly dense and sweet flavour. This was the Barry White of tomatoes. Tiny chunks of fresh cheese cut this, as did the little basil spherifications perched on top. The salad of beetroot textures was more straight-laced and strictly for beetroot lovers, which includes me. Soused sardines came next, the sharp vinegar balanced with sweet grapes and alarmingly bitter jewels of Campari jelly. Cheese and ham croquettes were suddenly very trad after all this ingenuity, and perfectly good if lacking punch. The “New” patatas bravas were much better, crispy little cylinders of potato filled with a spicy mayonnaise. Our final tapas of grilled chicken, sweetcorn puree and aubergine crisps was so-so and the chief interest – how do you make aubergine crisp – was swapped out for some less-than-crisp fried courgette.

My main course scored a huge hit. A lovely piece of skate draped over an idiotically delicious terrine of pig’s trotter and morcilla, crispy pig’s ear and confit orange zest topping it off. The gravy was splendid and the whole dish absolutely designed to appeal to me. The other fish dish, hake cooked with chorizo, was a tasty piece of fish served with broad beans and asparagus, but the chorizo was a very underwhelming presence. Across the table was a truly delicious piece of acorn-fed pork, cooked to melting perfection.

Because our mains lacked starch we ordered sides of mashed potato, and were a little startled to receive two more dishes of potato soup. Well, when in Rome. Or Spain. Or Kensington, rather. However this piece of innovation provoked more disappointed hilarity than delight. It’s fairly fundamental: no matter how creamy you make it, mashed potato is there to soak up sauces. Not to make them more fluid.

Dessert was a little hazelnut pudding with a completely liquid interior, sort of an ultimate fondant. The coconut ice cream helped with what was unsurprisingly quite sickly. I can’t deny enjoying it though, as I emptied the dish! Maureen’s far more refreshing concoction was a Mojito jelly with a bright limey foam and a sharp little sorbet whose flavour I haven’t remembered. White chocolate ganache was good, as was the torrija; a Spanish variant on pain perdu. I hate to admit it, but the petit fours – tiny crème catalan cornets and chocolate truffles – were my favourite sweets.

At around £45 for three courses Cambio de Tercio is priced just right for a very pleasant evening out. And we did have two tapas each. In the main I’d echo other reviews: classic Spanish flavours, a clear love of their cuisine, plenty of innovation. Some dishes didn’t quite work, or worked but didn’t wow, but overall I’d certainly want to return for another meal here. No mash though.

Chai souffle

I like Indian masala chai. A lot. Maureen once posed the following question: if you could only drink coffee or only drink chai forever more, which would you choose? For me the answer is masala chai. It is much more refreshing in the throat and exciting on the tastebuds.

But I do need to be clear about what we’re discussing here. If you’ve ever ordered a chai drink in a coffee shop, or bought a box of chai teabags, you are not even remotely close to having a proper cup of masala chai. Even if you find a place that says it does “authentic masala chai” you’ve probably only got a 50/50 chance of a decent cup. I ‘splain…

The first thing that often goes wrong is feebleness of spice. Look at the recipe below for what goes into brewing two small cups of chai. Now, can you fit all that into a teabag? Second problem is sweetness. I don’t have my ordinary builder’s tea sweet, but masala chai has to be properly sweet. The tea and the spice should be too strong to be enjoyed unsweetened. Third problem is the milk, which has to be properly cooked. I’m no chemist, but there’s a big difference between milk that has been simmering for ten minutes and milk straight from the carton. So those are the three essentials of masala chai, and it is ridiculously hard to get here.

If you want to try proper masala chai you really have only three options: (1) find one of the handful of places in England that brew a proper cup, (2) go to India and happily drown yourself in endless little cups of the real thing, (3) make some yourself.

I can help you with the last option. Whether you end up loving it or hating it, this is the right stuff.

Masala chai (makes 2 cups, not mugs)

2 cups water
1 cup condensed milk
1 inch piece fresh ginger
5 green cardamom pods
6 black peppercorns
1 inch piece of cinnamon
5 cloves
1 star anise
1 tbsp black tea
  1. Put all the ingredients in a saucepan
  2. Bring to the boil and bubble on a medium-low heat for 10-15 minutes
  3. WATCH OUT! IT’S GOING TO BOIL OVER!
  4. Phew! Glad you caught that. Cook for up to 15 minutes, or basically until you’ve boiled off about a third of the volume
  5. Strain the tea into two cups. Drink and enjoy!

Now, this is a pretty strongly spiced chai I’ve made here. It’s also seriously sweet. Love it. But you can reduce any or all of the spices to reduce the strength. Likewise the tea. You can also swap the condensed milk for the same quantity of ordinary milk plus four teaspoons of sugar – that will be less insanely sweet.

But what about chai souffle?

Masala chai souffle (makes 4)

3 large egg whites
pinch cream of tartar
1 dessertspoon caster sugar
2 large egg yolks
25g caster sugar
5g plain flour
1 level tsp cornflour
200ml chai
  1. Make chai according to the recipe above, but after straining it simmer for another 10 mins to reduce and concentrate the flavour. You will only need 200ml of it
  2. In a bowl whisk the egg yolks with the 25g caster sugar until pale, then whisk in the two flours
  3. Whisk in the 200ml chai while it is still quite hot (but it must have cooled for a good 30 seconds)
  4. Pour back into the empty pan and simmer for a minute, whisking continuously – it should suddenly thicken into crème patisserie. Put it in a large bowl to cool
  5. Now whisk the egg whites in a large bowl with the pinch of cream of tartar, until you have stiff peaks
  6. Add a dessertspoon of caster sugar and whisk for another minute until glossy and stiff
  7. Mix a tablespoon of the egg whites into the crème patisserie to loosen it, then add half the rest of the whites and fold them loosely in, then add the remainder of the whites and fold in
  8. Fill four buttered ramekins (five if there’s enough) and bake in the oven at 170C for 12-15 minutes
  9. Ta-da!

This masala chai creme patisserie would also make an awesome filling for choux buns or profiteroles.