Tag Archive for: fish

My Italian food trail: Bottarga

NIGELLA Lawson and Samuel Pepys make strange bedfellows but what bizarrely bonds them is a fondness for Bottarga, salted and cured grey mullet roe. Unique, it’s often dubbed the ‘truffle of the sea’. 

Reaching its apogee in Sardinia but relished as a delicacy across the world (the Japanese sake snack version is called karasumi), a not inexpensive tranche of it lies well wrapped in my fridge, where it will keep for months. That’s if I can resist grating it over pasta with clams, Nigella’s fave, or shaving it onto bruschetta for a funky, umami fix. Think dried anchovies on steroids, Visually it bears an odd orangey resemblance to Spanish quince paste membrillo  – until you sniff its underlying fishiness.

Grey mullet in the wild, Japanese karasumi, bottarga in my fridge

Sardinians just can’t resist what they cll bottarga di muggine. My esteemed restaurant critic oppo Ruth Allan tell me she encountered bottarga grated over a Caprese salad of tomatoes, mozzarella and basil at Sardus Cucina in Altrincham; when I visited island exiles Giovanni and Salvatore diverted me with other distinctively Sardinian treats – Coratella (chicken livers and chestnuts stewed in Vernaccia di Oristano fortified wine) and malloreddus, (tiny shell-like gnocchi served with tomato and pork sausage ragu).

Though it made it difficult to venture as far afield as South Manchester lockdown has widened my culinary horizons in many ways. Thus I chanced upon bottarga via two books – Ms Lawson’s ravishing Cook-Eat-Repeat and the great Pepys Diaries. After enjoying Claire Tomalin’s biography of the great Sam I dipped into entries across the early 1660s and very jolly they were.

Samuel Pepys – too much claret and bottarga and so to bed

Take this from Wednesday, June 5, 1661: “After dinner to the office where we sat and did business, and Sir W. Pen and I went home with Sir R. Slingsby to bowls in his ally, and there had good sport, and afterwards went in and drank and talked. So home Sir William and I, and it being very hot weather I took my flageolette and played upon the leads in the garden, where Sir W. Pen came out in his shirt into his leads, and there we staid talking and singing, and drinking great drafts of claret, and eating botargo and bread and butter till 12 at night, it being moonshine; and so to bed, very near fuddled.”

Contiguous with cherry-picking this superior tittle tattle (I’m a big fan of the Alan Clark Diaries, too) Cook-Eat-Repeat arrived, definitely Nigella’s best book since How To Eat. I’m proud my review of that 1998 debut was quoted on the paperback cover: “A monument to human greed”. Alas it was dropped for the recent reprint; consigning me to the dustbin of history like many a diarist rival of Pepys.

Nigella – her bottarga dishes are among many delights in her new book

Since then, of course, Nigella has become a significant cookery writer, even for those of us not smitten by her flirtatious TV persona, pouting the likes of: “How can you resist my prodigious pavlovas?”. Like Delia she has the power to influence our ingredient shopping habits. Remember that Christmas when her advocacy of goose fat sent sales soaring? 

I doubt that’s going to happen with bottarga. It’s never going to be a regular on our supermarket shelves. The same goes for lorighittas – a braided round pasta resembling a child’s bracelet, which Nigella ordered over lunch at Olivomare a small Sardinian seafood restaurant inn Belgravia to discuss the new book with her publisher. To augment the vongole (clams) botarga added its pungent, salty oomph, confirming this combo’s place in proposed print.

Following her recipe (see below) I substituted linguine and my palourde clams were sourced from the rather wonderful Wellgate Fisheries in Clitheroe.

Close-up of the bottarga. Grate finely and don’t over-heat

The bottarga, nothing but the finest, came from rather further afield. Readers of this website know of my admiration for Jacob Kennedy’s Bocca di Lupo restaurant in Soho (ADD Cotechino link). Alongside the monthly changing feasts for two he’s still doing via mail order he also stocks bottarga supplied by Stefano Vallebona, whose family have been dealing in luxury Sardinian fish products since 1890. 

In 1997 bottarga was the first item Stefano brought to the UK, in a briefcase to share with restaurant industry pals. His producer is one of the few on the island still using the ancient ways to salt, press and air dry the mullet roe, an ancient method brought over by the Egyptians 3000 years ago. Indeed the name derives from the Arabic word battarikh and it gets a mention in groundbreaking 15th century cookbooks by Martino de Rossi and Bartolomeo Sacchi.

Bocca sell it at £19.50 for 100g (plus shipping), similar to buying it straight from the Vallebonas’ Wimbledon-based deli, which supply top restaurants. Its website is a treasure trove of Italian and Japanese specialties.

Wellgate Fisheries supplied the clams for the dish below

NIGELLA’S PASTA WITH CLAMS AND BOTTARGA

From Cook-Eat-Repeat, serves one as a special treat (typical Lawson)

Ingredients

250g clams, bottarga enough to give 3x15ml tbs when grated (never buy pre-grated), fat clove of garlic, minced, 100g lorighittas (or linguine), 2x15ml tbs extra virgin olive oil, 1 lemon, 1/4 tsp dried chilli flakes, 3x15ml tbs dry white vermouth or wine, 1tsp unsalted butter.

Method

Put the clams to soak in a bowl of cold water and leave for 15 minutes. Put the water on for the pasta and assemble and measure all your other ingredients. First peel back the pellicle (membrane) of the bottarga to leave about one and a half cm and grate it finely into a bowl until you have 2tbs’ worth, leaving a bit more to grate over the pasta as you eat.

When the water comes to the boil, add salt and then the linguine. Drain the clams, discarding any that are open.

When the pasta has four minutes to go get out a heavy-based pan with a lid that will fit both pasta and clams later and gently warm the olive oil in it. Take the pan off the heat and finely grate in the zest of the lemon and add the garlic and chilli. Stir for a minute on a lowish heat.

Turn up the heat, add the clams and pour over the vermouth or wine and clamp on the lid so the clams steam open. That should take a couple of minutes. Discard any clams that remain closed. When the linguine is cooked but al dente move it from its pot to the clam pan, add the butter and give everything a good shake. Leave to stand with the heat off for two minutes then stir in the bottarga and perhaps a sprinkle of parsley. A good stir and it’s ready.

The grey mullet for the bottarga are caught off Sardinia’s rugged coast

So what exactly is Bottarga?

The roe sac of a fish – most commonly grey mullet (di muggine), but the more saline tuna (di tonno) has its advocates. It’s salted and massaged to expel air pockets, then pressed and dried. A laborious process but worth it. The big plus point in ancient times was its keepability. Stick it in the fridge today and it will resist rot for many months. A bit like Thai fish sauce or dried shrimp? Much subtler, more delicate. Akin to caviar perhaps. So don’t cook it though, just add at the end to pasta or eggs perhaps.  

Bottarga’s premium price is down to the fact that it takes 2,300 tonnes of grey mullet to make the 150 tonnes of bottarga that is the annual consumption in Sardinia. 

The sacs are washed in iced water and gently massaged by hand to eliminate any air pockets. They are then cured in sea salt, usually set in overlapping layers for a few weeks. The resulting slabs are washed again and pressed to eliminate brine and other liquids. The slabs are then transferred to a well ventilated  ‘ageing room’ and laid on wooden shelves. In order to achieve a uniform drying process, they have to be periodically turned and are matured for several months depending on the size of the roe.

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All hail John Dory! Why I’m an apostle for this king of fish

Quiz time. David Beckham and arguably the finest 18th century Falstaff – what have they in common? Answer: a fierce looking fish bearing the thumbprint of St Peter. 

Back in 2015 Becks took a then teenage Brooklyn fishing off Dorset. There’s a picture of the pair proudly brandishing their catch – the second biggest John Dory ever landed on that particular boat, the skipper told them. That might make it 3kg. It’s hard to tell given the bizarre body. This delicious expensive fish is certainly no looker. So thin, head on it is nigh invisible as it sneaks up on prey, rapidly sucking up the likes of shrimp and squid.

David and Brooklyn
Tomb of James Quin

Those distinctive black marks on either side of its dark olive yellow body, clustered with spines? Supposedly they are the thumb and finger-prints of Apostle Peter, who snatched the fish out of the Sea of Galilee and removed a gold coin from its mouth to pay taxes he owed. Its Latin name is Zeus Faber. So godlike connections but that hasn’t saved it from nicknames. The French traditionally dubbed it ‘l’horrible’ or “poulet de mer”.  One theory from a certain Jules Verne has its proper name springing from ‘janitore’, St Peter’s role at the gates of Heaven, but it’s more than likely an anglicisation of Jaune Doré (golden yellow).

It certainly shone brightly for the Irish-born Shakespearean actor James Quin, maybe bested as Lear to David Garrick but a legendary champion of the John Dory’s merits. When asked what sauce suited its surprisingly fleshy fillets he responded by announcing the banns of marriage between ‘delicate Ann Chovy, and good John Dory’. 

You’ll find the tomb of this maverick ham, accused of both murder and manslaughter in his roistering prime, in the Abbey Church, Bath. Where, as quoted by Alan Davidson in his scholarly North Atlantic Seafood, “Quin’s celebrity as the prince of epicures was well known, and where his palate finished its voluptuous career.”

So a man after my own heart. I’ve been been basking in a kind of John Dory afterglow since acquiring, at Wellgate Fisheries, Clitheroe, the best specimen I’ve ever had. Carefully avoiding those nasty barbs, owner Giles Shaw filleted it from its heavy bones and substantial head, which later yielded a perfect fumet for a paella.

Just 40 per cent of body weight left, but what to do with the slightly sticky but firm flesh? The mercurial Quin recommended poaching in sea water and serving with a lobster or shrimp sauce, according to Davidson, who suggests cider and cream might be the way to go. Instead I reverted to Mistress Ann Chovy and followed the Mitch Tonks recipe for Grilled Dory with Anchovy Vinaigrette, replacing the customary braised fennel (a sprinkle of fennel pollen sufficing) with steamed spinach. I also scattered over a few mussels from the batch destined for the paella. Thanks to the quality of fish it was the equal of the dish we ate at Tonks’ flagship, The Seahorse, on Dartmouth Embankment. https://seahorserestaurant.co.uk

By all means follow my lead but wait until autumn. John Dory is not on any endangered quota, but breeding season is May to August… You can purchase it online  from Tonks’ own Rockfish Seafood Market. Another good John Dory source is Trident Fresh Fish Or maybe give Giles a ring and enjoy the drive up to Clitheroe to collect.

Eliza Acton noted in Modern Cookery for Private Families (1845) that John Dory, “though of uninviting appearance is considered by some persons as the most delicious fish that appears at table”. I concur heartily.

How I cooked my John Dory
Sourced from Wellgate

GRILLED DORY WITH ANCHOVY VINAIGRETTE AND BRAISED FENNEL

Ingredients:

150 ml /¼ pt olive oil

150 ml/ ¼ pt white wine vinegar

150 ml/ ¼ pt white wine

2 bay leaves

1 tsp fennel seeds

1 tsp coriander seeds

1 sliced lemon

1 small onion, finely sliced

3 cloves garlic, finely sliced

3 Florence fennel bulbs

John Dory fillets – they will vary in size but allow about 180g / 6 oz per person

Salt

For the anchovy vinaigrette:

6 salted anchovy fillets

1 tsp Dijon mustard

3 tbsp white wine vinegar

100 ml double cream

1 tbsp parsley, finely chopped

Squeeze of lemon

Black pepper

Method:

Pre-heat the oven to 175C. First braise the fennel by gently heating the olive oil, wine vinegar, wine, bay leaf, fennel seeds and coriander seeds in a pan.   Then add the sliced lemon, onion, sliced garlic and fennel.  Cover and cook in the oven for about an hour until the fennel is tender. Remove from the oven and allow to cool at room temperature in the braising liquid.

Make the anchovy vinaigrette by pounding the anchovy fillets in a pestle and mortar.  Then put the mustard in a bowl with the vinegar and whisk together slowly adding the olive oil until those the three ingredients emulsify. Then add the anchovy paste and gently whisk in the cream. Add the parsley, a squeeze of lemon and plenty of black pepper.

 Heat the grill then brush the John Dory fillets with a little olive oil and season with salt.  Grill for 6-7 minutes until lightly golden.

To serve put two or three chunks of braised fennel and onion mixture on a plate, place the fish alongside and drizzle with the anchovy vinaigrette.

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The taste of fish to come – an intimate, shimmering preview of Musu’s madai, hamachi and akami

The oddest of avenues opened up after one of the best dinners I’ve eaten in recent times. I just can’t resist researching a bit of arcane back story. So picture a victorious Sumo wrestler, at the end of his bout, typically brandishing a red sea bream – potent symbol of good fortune and abundance for Japanese folk. Endorsed by the ‘Fish God’, consumption of this prestigious ‘celebration’ fish with the coppery red sheen is reputed to ward off evil spirits, too. 

Pagrus major is the Latin name for the species; more prosaically the Japanese call their ‘King of the Hundred Fishes’ Madai. A nigiri of which (above) I have just gulped whole, as is the custom at a certain stage of a Kaiseki banquet. Bookended by mackerel and chu toro (tuna back and belly morsels), it is part of a trio of mouthfuls that showcase immaculate sourcing. Attention to detail is everywhere from the flecks of proper wasabi root, the 10-year aged soy with mirin and sake, top of the range hamachi and akami to match the madai quality.

No, I’m not in one of those exclusive downtown Kyoto supper clubs but in Lydgate, hilltop outpost of Oldham. The setting is the home of Vincent Braine co-founder of Musu, an extraordinary restaurant project arriving imminently in Manchester. His chef patron Mike  Shaw has brought along his meticulously assembled brigade to cook a preview of the menu promised for the £2.5m transformation of the former Randall & Aubin site on Bridge Street. 

No pressure then? Not if the actual 55 cover restaurant can regularly serve a meal as amazing as the one proffered to us, the elite few. Me neither on why I was invited. Just thankful. Maybe it was down to the effusive welcome I gave to the project. Much of it down to my awe at the cultural leap made by Shaw, a chef steeped in Francophile and Modern British cooking. Think a CV that includes Le Manoir aux Quat’ Saisons via Hambleton Hall and Aubergine, then at Michelin-starred Neat in Cannes. 

Now he is charged with curating high end Japanese cuisine, albeit filtered through his own kitchen sensibility. Japanese with a contemporary twist, he’s calling the style. It oddly mirrors his namesake Simon Shaw’s adoption/adaptation of Catalan cooking at El Gato Negro. Fittingly the name Musu translates as ‘infinite possibilities’. 

In all this it helps that Mike’s head sushi chef sidekick is Brazilian Andre Aguiar, trained by ‘renowned Japanese Sushi Master’ Yugo Kato. The first six months of his apprenticeship at Kato’s Dublin restaurant were consumed entirely by learning to properly cook rice – the priority in sushi. Cooked rice is referred to as gohan in Japanese. In a broader sense the word denotes ‘food’ or ‘meal’.

Andre will helm the intimate six-cover ‘Omakase’ counter in Musu, one of three menu options; the other are the flexible a la carte ‘Sentaku’ and ‘Kaiseki’, a seven or 11 course tasting menu. We get the latter at Lydgate.

It kicks off with chawanmushi, that savoury eggy custard seemingly ubiquitous at high end UK restaurants these days. This one, intense with garlic and parsley, is as good as it gets with a bijou morel mushroom tart sharing the Instagrammable ‘nest’. After which there isn’t a dud note. Exquisite sashimi to match the sushi; treatments of scallops, black cod and wagyu beef each transcending the Nobu wannabe clichés. Throughout assiduous application of caviar (kaluga and oscietra) feels like the hand of Shaw. Ditto the remarkable final pudding – a fusion masterpiece of iced white chocolate, fennel seed crumble and yuzu sorbet.

So a rewarding culinary experience, but is it true Kaiseki? And does it matter? On my trips to Japan I was never lucky enough to bag a seat at one of those elaborate almost meditative showcases for kyo-rori (traditional Kyoto cuisine), served in ancient wooden villas. Reservation for non-natives are as rare as hen’s teeth (not a dish by the way). This dining ritual has been honed for centuries, yet my it’s-becoming-a-habit research discovers the term Kaiseki wasn’t attached until the mid 19th century. It means ‘bosom’ or ‘stone’ and  refers to the practice of monks holding warm stones to their chests to stave off hunger during winter.

I guarantee no server at Musu, due to open on Friday, November 18, will offer you a warm stone on arrival. Warm welcome definitely plus food that should radically upgrade the perception of Japanese food in the city (ramen an honourable exception). Despite a cavalcade of sushi rivals recently it has remained devalued culinary currency. Manc cannot live by California rolls alone.

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Getaria – heady Basque mix of woodsmoke and wild turbot

Chewing the fat, not literally, on a dinner date with a fellow food critic (her review bosses were paying) we inevitably strayed into the territory of ‘What’s been your most memorable meal?’, knowing on both sides of the table there had been plenty of contenders over the  years.

Memorable can mean many things, of course, not all of them positive, but we’ll pass on the shockers. And when we are just seeking superlatives, there is so much to factor in – setting, service, food and wine obviously, company, though if you are reviewing professionally that shouldn’t be taken into account. 

So when I say ‘boning’ clinched it for me I am not being naughty about my all-time favourite. I was swept off my feet by the whole ceremony of separating a turbot from its skeleton. Not just any turbot but the legendary wood-grilled rodaballo (wild turbot) of Getaria on the Basque coast. Elkano was the shrine we sought, arguably Spain’s finest fish restaurant. Unique for a Michelin starred establishment with its cast iron grills glowing intensely outside the front door.

There are several wood grill rivals in this working fishing village but all will doff their berets to this prow-like restaurant way back from the harbour where the legend was born 50 years ago. Founder Pedro Arregui’s magic formula – the fish sprayed with his own oil and vinegar elixir and then grilled for a precise 12 minutes.

Of late the rodaballo dish has travelled far. It’s the calling card of Brat in London, where chef Tomos Parry readily acknowledges its Basque origins; up north it’s a speciality of Joe Botham’s Baratxuri in Ramsbottom and Manchester’s Escape To Freight Island, while a steady stream of 4kg turbot are shipped up from Cornwall to the mighty Pennine grill of the Moorcock at Norland. 

All quite rewarding but in situ? Accept no substitutes. We had managed to get an Elkano lunch booking on a Monday. It was for 2.30pm, giving us plenty of time for a limbering up hike along the wild sea front to Zarautz and back through vine-clad hills producing the seafood-friendly, tart local white, Tzakoli.

Settling into the comfort of Elkano, we asked Pedro’s son and keeper of the flame Aitor to pick a Tzakoli for us from a dozen on the list, all at very affordable prices. He  recommended one particular example, whispering “it’s the only one not from the Getaria area. You’ll love it.” We did and it was a perfect match.

We did. It went well with an unforgettable ‘warm-up’ parade of seafood – notably txangurro (spider crab meat, sautéed with leeks and garlic, spiked with brandy, put back in the shell and browned) and the classic Basque treat, kokotxas (hake throats in a salsa verde). “Just tip them down your throat – it’s all about texture,” said our mentor. 

Yet, of course, this was just the supporting cast for our Wild Turbot to share. It had arrived on the quay at 8am with the rest of the catch. If it had been landed a few hours earlier it wouldn’t have made the cut. Elkano only sticks the freshest fish on its embers. 

Did our rodaballo rock? You bet. We were introduced to the fish by our server before it was salted, sprayed and grilled

Encountering the result on the plate was magical. Aitor, who now runs today’s more stylish restaurant, gave us a masterclass in the various constituents of the fish as he carved them – from the delicate fillets and dark fatty back sections, ribs from which he leached the gelatin with his knife and the succulence of the cheeks. The simple accompaniment just the sweetest of roasted red peppers. 

At dusk we walked off the long lunch around the San Anton headland, known as Getaria’s Mouse because of its shape. It protects the working harbour, once a famous whaling port,  from the Biscay swell. 

Our lodging was the Pension Katrapona. We had arrived the previous evening via a 50-mile shuttle from Bilbao Airport. Equidistant is San Sebastian. The Getaria grills greeted us. At nightcap time the wood smoke from two floors below forced us to retreat indoors from our balcony with its great view of the harbour. We found supper refuge at Jatatxea Iriba in the old town where we devoured a supper of house-cured anchovies, then langoustines and monkfish – from the outside grill naturally.

How did Elkano get its name? From one of Getaria’s two great sons. Balenciaga and Juan Sebastian Elcano make an unlikely pairing. One, the gay son of a sailor and a seamstress who rose to be Paris’s 20th century king of couture, the other an iron man mariner, who after Magellan’s death completed the first circumnavigation of the Earth with a skeleton crew. 

Born 400 years apart, both men are honoured in the town. Balenciaga with a vast modern museum housing 3,000 of his creations, attached incongruously to a palace once home to his aristocratic mentors. Elcano with two statues, the more impressive crowning an old bastion overlooking the port, and his name on the restaurant shrine to the blessed rodaballo.

He’s buried in a less secular place of worship, Getaria’s fortress-like seafront church, San Salvador, which dates from the 14th century and slopes oddly as if it’s about to launch like some fantastic Gothic galleon. How appropriate.

Factfile

Neil flew from Manchester to Bilbao with easyJet. Below, nearer home, a ‘wildharbour’ turbot at the Moorcock and expert carving at Baratxuri.

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Caviar – quite a scoop as I unleash my inner oligarch

There are some images that are hard to sweep from your mind. You know the sort of stuff – hypocritical politicos caught by CCTV in a ‘steamy clinch’. Etched in my cranium is that ogre of monstrous appetites, Robert Maxwell, in his eyrie at the old Daily Mirror HQ in Holborn opening a desk drawer during a meeting and scooping a hairy fistful of caviar into his maw.

That might put anyone off this ultra-expensive delicacy for life. On the hack’s salary he was paying me I was never going to develop the habit. But when the opportunity comes along to reacquaint oneself with the unique experience of high end sturgeon roe it’s hard to say ‘whoa there’.

The three Petrossian caviars we got to try

I barely know my Beluga from my Ossetra but I know what I like. In truth my palate isn’t attuned to the nuances that separate the trio of caviars sent to me by iconic brand Petrossian but I’m getting there. The three 50g tins before me range in price from £100 for the Alverta® Royal Caviar through £120 for the Alverta® Tsar Impérial™ Caviar to £130 for the Ossetra Tsar Impérial™

Before I even dare broach them I have to do some research, which I can share with you as fellow caviar virgins. If you are already an aficionado (not just a show-off glutton like the aforementioned Cap’n Bob) look away now.

Prehistoric survivor – Acipenser Gueldenstaedti

Ossetra, also called Oscietra or ‘Russian sturgeon’, hails from the shores of the Caspian Sea bordering Kazakhstan and Azerbaijan. It’s in those dark waters, muddied by the interminable internecine conflicts of the region, that we should start.

The star of the show is the bottom-feeding sturgeon – scientific name Acipenser Gueldenstaedti – which was around way before the dinosaurs and hasn’t had much of a makeover since. Traditionally it was an absolute lottery for sturgeon to produce offspring. Even the smallest of them are over six years old when they first spawn. Beluga and Kaluga, the larger varieties, only reach maturity in their twenties.

Sturgeon were also picky about where to lay their eggs – inevitably in tthe same area where they themselves were hatched. It was all quite an endurance test. En route they lived off their own fat, swimming upriver against the tide, until they found a rocky stretch to find a mate and spawn. Yet unlike salmon they don’t perish at the end of the process, which has kept them from extinction.

Overfishing and poaching definitely pushed the sturgeon toward the brink, though until it became illegal to fish for this species in that region. After years of studies and research, Petrossian was the first player on the market to offer farmed Ossetra in 2007.

A scattering of caviar, smoked salmon and a buckwheat blini is quite a combo

I must admit it was my favourite of the trio, whether on its own or with blinis (our own fresh buckwheat treats, not the bought-in disappointments), soured cream and slices of Petrossian’s Coupe du Tsar®  80 day smoked salmon tenderloin.

The dark amber-hued Ossetra was briny and sensual with a persistent aftertaste, for me pipping its creamier, iodised rival, the almost black Alverta® Tsar Impérial™. The other Alverta was less distinctive. Both the product of the Acipenser transmontanus white sturgeon, which can top four metres long in its natural habitat of North American rivers. Nowadays the fish is farmed for it eggs in California and Italy.

They sure love it in the ‘Golden State’ where the great chef patron of The French Laundry, Thomas Keller has just launched a new pop-up bar pairing – what else? – caviar and Champagne in the Napa Valley wine town of Yountville.

Fresh out of Krug, I opened sharing bottles of beer with photographer compadre Joby Catto. He brought along ‘Spirit of Nature’, a mixed fermentation yuzu fruited sour and

The Wild Beer Co’s Ninkasi Saison. The latter, containing 10 per cent apple juice, fruity hops and wild yeast, made an excellent fist of counterfeiting the appropriate Champagne. 

No bias here but the best match came from my Elderflower and Gooseberry Sour 2020. Tart and funky, it made a perfect marriage of convenience with the briny caviar.

Black gold comes at a mega premium price

Is it all worth it?

A pre-pandemic survey of the UK’s two and three Michelin starred restaurants discovered that over 70 per cent featured caviar on its menus. This is all the milder, farmed stuff, more sustainable than the wild product from the Caspian and Black Seas, international trade in which has been banned since 2006. That had to be done since harmful fishing practices put native sturgeon on the endangered list.

Still there are some issues in harvesting the roe (ie eggs) from sturgeon in the farms. These are discussed in a balanced way in this 2019 Guardian article.

Without the farms, caviar, an iconic luxury item, would not now exist. A new generation of chefs are seeking alternative roes but as with Champagne versus other bubbles the cachet is not the same. 

From the watershed moment when it was transformed from peasant fodder – a meat substitute during fasts – into a coveted status symbol of the Tsars and ultimately the affluent across the globe there has been no turning back for caviar.

As I nibble the final glistening ‘black gold’ off a silver spoon I relish an oligarchal sense of conspicuous consumption, but ultimately I prefer the salmon on my blini.

To buy Petrossian caviar, smoked salmon and other top of the range products visit this link.

Many thanks to Joby Catto for the beer and some excellent images.

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No end to my sizzling love affair with the Moorcock

Spring 2018 and I’m besotted. The venue a rough and ready moorland pub high above Sowerby Bridge. Not an obvious honeytrap for a tryst and there was precious little flesh on the bones of the object of my desire. A deep-fried herring skeleton on the debut menu was a mission statement for the reinvention of the Moorcock Inn at Norland.

That challenging herring bone that kickstarted the Moorcock experience

Penning the first UK review of Alisdair Brooke-Taylor’s daring fresh take on the UK gastropub I wrote: “North Sea herring season is upon us. All those Dutch and Flemish trenchermen salivating at the prospect of fatty raw fish soused in vinegar or brine. A Yorkshireman’s penchant for pickles stops at onions; herring bone to him is tweed or twill.”

Not real bones, constituting the second course in a £35 tasting menu. One that started weird and became ever more wonderful. They resembled a seahorse or a fossil shape in ammonite. Three winters (and herring seasons) have passed and this take on a Japanese omakase snack has never reappeared.

Mangalitza chop and wild greens – so very Moorcock

The rare breed Hungarian Mangalitza pork that provided the 11 week dry-aged chops that followed has remained on the radar, though. It contributes to the house-cured charcuterie sharing board that is a star attraction in the post-lockdown food offering. Some component have been two years in the making.

This outstanding home cured charcuterie plate is my favourite contemporary snack

It is made up of pork rillettes, hot smoked rare breed ham, Gloucester Old Spot coppa, chicken liver parfait, jellied pork terrine, smoked prunes and toast. All for just £18 a platter. Inevitably you add on a £4.50 portion of their own wholemeal sourdough and cultured butter – like the extensive employment of a huge wood-fired barbecue, a constant since day one (main image).

You can purchase the Moorcock sourdough and cultured butter to take home

Pandemic caution means that tasting menus are shelved for the moment; attention focuses on the daily shifting boards that constitute the bar menu.

There is a walk-in capacity, mind, as Alisdair and drinks-savvy partner Aimee Tufford continue to encourage the pubby (and dog-friendly) side of their now acclaimed foodie destination. I celebrated a recent birthday there with a pint of cask Vocation Bread and Butter Ale from fellow local heroes Vocation and then drank a series of Belgian beers, culminating in an old favourite, Westmalle Tripel (in the proper glass).

Alongside natural wines, the couple are devotees of Belgium’s astonishing beer culture after cutting their culinary teeth at the Michelin-starred In de Wulf restaurant, close to the border with Northern France.

In this unlikely spot legendary chef Kobe Desramualts, with Alisdair as his right hand man, had created a very special place. Just before it closed in 2016 influential website Opinionated About Dining named it third best restaurant in Europe after L’Arpège in Paris and the Basque Country’s Azurmendi.

The kitchen garden in its early day being hewn from the surrounding moorland

Norland may seem an equally unlikely spot but over three years it has developed a similar ‘forage and ferment, cure and preserve’ ethos, utilising their own two acre organic kitchen garden and the surrounding moorlands, which yield mushrooms and wild herbs aplenty.

Alastair’s kipper ties – coming upon a batch of herring smoking merrily away

The garden has evolved spectacularly and the other centrepiece of the Moorcock, the expansive outdoor barbecue is used to increasing effect for cooking with fire or smoking. Lots of chefs – Tomas Parry at Brat notably – have bragging rights here but few do it as well as Alistair and his small team.

The chef’s talents don’t stop here. The various lockdowns gave Alistair the opportunity to hone his talent for ceramics, making glazes with the ash from the burnt charcoal. Now he’s not just providing for the restaurant. From ramen bowls to platters and jugs these have pride of place in an upstairs shop (open during pub hours) that offers gift packs of foodie goodies and, naturally, classic Belgian beers.

This ceramic plate complements this leek, potato and smoked poulet egg pie, topped with Baron Bigod and a radish salad

Lauded in the early days by national critics such as the Observer’s Jay Rayner and  Marina O’Loughlin of the Sunday Times, the Moorcock became a hot ticket. Twisting the metaphor hot tickets get cooler as as fickle critical attention shifts to newer ventures.

The extra pressure of Covid must have been immense. Potter’s kiln aside, Alasdair and Aimee tackled it with a defiant playfulness. I recall their take on a Chinese menu, featuring th likes of their in-house XO sauce and the kind of wild Yorkshire greens you don’t usually find in a black bean stir-fry.

Ever resourceful, the Moorcock turned into a community grocer during lockdown

More straightforwardly they diversified into quality foodie groceries – from Yorkshire asparagus to mixed bags of Cornish sea vegetables to over-wintered jars of their own produce. I recall with fondness Aimee’s rather lovely house Negroni made from a ‘Campari’ she crafted from rosehip, hogweed and clementine, mixed with rose petal wine and Yorkshire gin. It all helped to keep them afloat.

Crucially they kept their core staff together. Sustainable, ethical, pleasurable. What’s not to fall in love with all over again?

Moorcock Inn, Moor Bottom Lane, Norland Moor, Sowerby Bridge HX6 3RP. 01422 832103. Thanks to Joby Catto for the main barbecue picture and other image help.

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Manchester’s Biggest Chippy Tea is in the bag for reborn Food and Drink Festival

It was numbing last year when the Manchester Food and Drink Festival was postponed. Man and boy (well almost) I had served my dues as one of its Awards judges and, sitting in at some of its more random events, had oodles of foodie fun over the years.

This September (from the 16th to the 27th) MFDF is back to its fully functioning best and, pandemic backlash permitting, should champion the further resurgence of Manchester’s dynamic culinary scene against the lockdown odds.

I regularly edited the print brochure but that task is now confined to history. The 24th Festival sees for the first time the entire programme of what’s happening and when will be available via a brand new MFDF app. Users will be able to browse the full festival programme, reserve a table at the Festival Hub and vote in the MFDF awards too.

The app can be downloaded in the apple and android app stores by searching ‘Mcr Food and Drink Festival’. 

The jovial Hub before the days of social distancing hastened the postponement of MFDF in 2020

That Festival Hub was switched to Cathedral Gardens from Albert Square when the major renovation of the Town Hall kicked in. Once again it will host a programme of events happening in partnership with the city’s restaurants, bars, cafes and chefs running throughout the Festival.

Some tables will be available to book over the two long weekends, but there will also be plenty of opportunities for walk-ins as large areas will not require reservations.

Even on Monday and Tuesday when it is not open to the public, the Hub will be hosting special Festival events and pop-ups.

Tom Kerridge’s ‘pub’ will be taking over the Festival Hub for a day

What are the top events on offer?

Mon Sep 20: The Bull & Bear Takeover – Tom Kerridge’s restaurant operation at the Stock Exchange Hotel monopolises the Hub for one night only to create a special street  food meets pub grub feast with a live music soundtrack.

Wed Sep 20: Manchester’s Biggest Chippy Tea – Some of the city’s best loved restaurants, chefs, chip shops and food traders, including The Hip Hop Chip Shop, Street Urchin and Lord of the Pies are coming together to create a mammoth chippy tea feast in homage to one of the region’s best-loved meals.

Thu Sep 23: Schlosstoberfest – It may not be quite October but Albert’s Schloss will be getting in the mood with Schlosstoberfest at the Hub. Expect an Oktoberfest Takeover bringing brats, pretzels and lederhosen. Free to attend and no need to book at the MFDF street kitchen they will be serving up Bavarian food and programming a lively night of Schloss-style entertainment.

Bratwurst Albert’s Schloss style can be spectacular

Thur-Sun Sep 16-19: MFDF Street Kitchen Takeovers – MFDF has its own street food kitchen trailer on site at the Hub which where guests will include Evuna, Jackie Kearney and Tast Catala.

Fri-Sun Sep 24-26: Eat Well Kitchen – Eat Well Mcr is the inspiring social enterprise born out of the COVID-19 crisis. Founded by food and drink star Mary-Ellen McTague, Kathleen O’Connor and Gemma Saunders, it provide meals made by chefs and hospitality professionals to people sidelined by poverty. Each day their kitchen at the Hub will feature a different restaurant partner from the Eat Well Collective with all profits going to Eat Well Mcr, including a £1 voluntary donation added to orders. 

Thu-Sun Sep 16-19 and Thu-Sun Sep 23-26: The Just Eat Street Food Chalets – MFDF sponsors Just Eat will be bringing some of their Manchester restaurant partners to the Just Eat Street Food Chalets. They include Peck and Yard,, La Bandera, Vertigo Plant-Based Eatery and JJ Vish and Chips.

There will be an abundance of global street food to tempt Festival-goers

PLUS, an array of street food vendors will be at the Hub over the two long weekends and an MFDF Artisan Food Market will operate from Thu 16 to Sun 19 and Thu 23 to Sun 26. Drinkers are well catered for with a variety of bars on site, while on Fri 17 and Sat 18 Halle St Peters in Ancoats hosts the ever popular MFDF Wine & Fizz Festival.

Participating retailers including Decent Drop, Prestwich’s Grape to Grain, Le Social Wine,  Cork of the North and UKiYO Republic showcasing their wonderful range of Japanese sake. As well as tasting the wines, guests can buy from those on site too and take some very special bottles home. £12.50. Book here. 

The MFDF Awards 2021 will be presented at a Gala Dinner at the Ticket All at Escape to Freight Island on Monday, September 27. Award nominations are now open. New categories this year include one which demonstrates the regional breadth of the festival – ‘Best Foodie Neighbourhood’.

For full details of the UK’s best regional celebration of food and drink, including its extensive programme of free music, visit the Festival website.  

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