Mushroom Wellington

*Guest post by Christine*

The Mushroom Wellington is a grander version of the humble nut roast with lots of Christmassy flavours added and is the perfect centrepiece for a vegetarian Christmas dinner as it can be frozen weeks ahead, uncooked and baked straight from the freezer in 45 minutes. You are advised to make two as meat eaters will want some too.

The mushrooms in this dish are slowly simmered in sherry and tamari to create a rich jus and these are blended with cashews, ground almonds, onions, fresh tarragon and fresh wholewheat breadcrumbs. Combined together, this "pate" is first moulded into an oblong about 11" x 4" x 2" and then covered in a layer of puff pastry which is plaited to keep the filling inside and to give the finished dish a crisp golden casing.

The dish feeds six easily with two slices per person plus festive roasted potatoes and parsnips; sprouts finished with sauted chestnuts, port gravy and gingered cranberry sauce. I found it very stress free especially as one guest even offered to make the bread sauce.

Mushroom Wellington
(these quantities make 2 Wellingtons and serve 12-16)

500g/1lb 5oz puff pastry
60ml/2 floz sunflower oil
675g/1 1/2 lb onions, chopped
4 garlic cloves, crushed
450g/ 1 lb chestnut mushrooms, left whole
2 tables fresh tarragon
2 tables tamari
2 tables sherry or Marsala
freshly ground pepper
11 1/2 ozs broken cashews
175g/ 6 oz fine, fresh wholemeal breadcrumbs
320g/11 oz ground almonds
1 egg beaten, for glazing

Method:- (This looks like a lot of instructions but in fact it is fairly straight forward)

1) Roll out the pastry on a lightly floured surface into two rectangles 12 x 9 inches each and set aside, in fridge, until required.

2) To make filling, heat the oil in a large pan and fry the onions with half the garlic for about 20 minutes - you want deep brown rich coloured ones not the insipid pale variety - remove from pan and put aside. In the same pan add the mushrooms with the rest of the garlic and half the tarragon and cook on a fairly high heat - after about 10 minutes add the tamari and alcohol and continue until the mushrooms are cooked through and you have a nice inky jus. Season with pepper. Set aside and retain all the mushroom liquor.

3) In a processor, blend the cashews with the mushroom liquor to a fine puree adding a little more alcohol if necessary and put into a large bowl, then finely blend the onions and add to bowl; finely blend the mushrooms and add to bowl; finally add the ground almonds, breadcrumbs and remaining tarragon and mix well. The mixture should just hold its shape when formed with the hands.

4) Preheat oven to 220 C/425 F/gas mark 7. Remove pastry from fridge and place the two rectangles on a floured surface; place half the filling on one sheet forming a shape about 11" by 3" x 2" high. Then with the pointed end of a knife make diagonal cuts at a 45 degree angle starting from the left hand corner of the pastry towards the pate mixture. Repeat at the right hand corner cutting down towards the centre. The strips should be about 3/4" wide. Fold the end pieces in first and then draw strips from left and then right crossing them over so that the mixture is snuggly wrapped up. Repeat this once more for the other Wellington.

5) At this stage you can wrap in foil and freeze, or glaze generously with beaten egg and place on a floured tray and bake in the oven from between 35 - 45 mins until golden. Allow to cool slightly before serving.

Fifteen Cornwall

On The Beach
Watergate Bay
Cornwall
TR8 4AA

*Guest post by Andy*

You might have heard of Saint Jamie Oliver’s charitable project-cum-posh seaside restaurant (if not then catch up here). Having enjoyed a very special meal at Fifteen Cornwall in the spring, some of us returned for a post-Xmas lunch with high expectations. We limbered up with a warm drink, before most of us settled on the three-course set menu. I picked parsnip soup livened with chili oil, pheasant on a field of lentils, and tiramisu. The soup, served with fresh, tasty bread, was warming, and not too sweet. I'd only had pheasant on one previous occasion, as a young 'un, and I'm assured I didn't overly enjoy the experience. But after deciding to give it another go - what's the worst that could happen? - I was alarmed to find this one tough and chewy too. I was faced with a dilemma of sorts: should I complain – or is this how pheasant is meant to taste? Reader, I ate the pheasant. The tiramisu was creamy but light as anything, with the sponge doused in amaretto, yet somehow not soggy. Bonus marks to nature for the stunning sea views. But what effect would that fibrous pheasant have on Fifteen's final score? I'm giving it a B. Sort out your birds, Jamie, and we can talk about an A minus.

Rodizio Rico

77-78 Upper Street
London
N1 0NU

*Guest post by Fred*

The all-you-can-eat buffet is, for the most part, a godless, shameful institution in which humanity is reduced to its most base, primitive state, all in the name of vast troughs of indiscriminate cuts of mechanically recovered meat, disease-ridden salads and vast swathes of unidentifiable nuggets of fried golden chaff.

Islington’s Brazilian churrascaria, Rodizio Rico, attempts to add a little more culinary integrity to proceedings with their PETA-baiting smorgasbord of roasted animals. Seriously, if you’re a vegetarian, there is nothing for you here. Masala Zone next door should do you a nice bowl of lentils though.

Here’s how it works: you’re sat down at your table and each given a laminated card. One side is green, meaning ‘bring it on’, the other is red, signifying that your oesophagus is so backed up with masticated cow that you can barely breathe. As long as you’re offering waiters the green light, there’ll proceed to present you with skewer after skewer of roasted meat, from which they carve off a chunk onto your plate. I didn’t check, but one can only imagine they’re housing Noah’s Ark out back, because they literally offer you every single beast known to man. There are about 17 different cuts of beef to choose from (our favourite: the fillet steak brazenly marbled with melted cheese), roast lamb, Brazilian sausage, pork ribs, ham, pork loin, chicken wrapped in bacon, chicken wings and chicken hearts (every bit as vile as you’d imagine), to name but a few.

For the most part, the meat was excellently cooked. The beef was nice and pink in the middle and there were pleasingly spicy crusts on most of the cuts. In fact, it was hard to fault the quantity and quality of meat on offer. Seeing as that’s the restaurant raison d’etre, that’s a pretty resounding endorsement. However, the same couldn’t be said for the salad bar, which reverted to depressing ‘feeding time at the swine farm’ type. Lettuce leaves were brown around the edges, chips were cold, coleslaws were overly mayonnaisey and there was a surplus of horrid breaded objects that defied digestion. There was plenty to choose from at least (including an incongruous, unwanted vat of lasagne) - management clearly wanted you to fill up on this bland fodder to keep your flesh eating to a minimum. Don’t rise to the bait. Eat the meat. That’s why you here, so don’t lie to yourself and fill your plate with saggy mounds of tasteless vegetables to disguise your revolting carnivorous excess.

This is a ‘once a year’ experience. You’ll do some awful things to your cholesterol levels and put your colon in serious peril, but there’s no denying that it does roasted meat very well indeed. At £22.50 a head, it’s not cheap either, especially when you throw in the slightly surly service, but if you’re in the market for cooked flesh, Rodizio Rico comes heartily recommended.

The Diner

21 Essex Road

London
N1 2SA

*Guest post by Andy*

I'm not saying this is authentic Stateside diner food - it's way too expensive and the service a little ramshackle to measure up to the high-velocity calorific exuberance that is my experience of American eating - but it's a damn good try. The burgers are substantial, the fries crispy, and the milkshakes reassuringly concrete in texture (although, aren't they a little smaller than they were a few months back?).

I opted for a California Burger, with monterey jack cheese and guacamole, just as I did last time, and the time before (why take the risk?). When you ask for medium rare, they give you medium rare, in a pink way. It was washed down, so to speak, with a booze-fuelled "hard shake" (read more here) followed by a softer pistachio shake.

I love this place. The red leathery booths and friendly waitresses warm the cockles, and you don't even have to ask for napkins. A welcome addition to London, although if you're forced to choose, go to the Shoreditch one instead.

Brett's Baked Cheesecake

*Guest post by Andy*

I've always liked cheesecake, but since I tried the New York variety for the first time a few short years ago my fondness has developed into more of a fixation. I remember being blown away by the sheer density of the thing, which left the inferior English version, on which I was raised, resembling gelatinous infant food. Since then it's been baked or nothing. I know it's bad for you, which probably adds to the appeal, but there's something irresistible about that contrast/balance between sweet and cheese, fluffy filling and biscuit base. One of my favourite things, when I'm lucky enough to visit New York, is to head to Junior's in Grand Central Station for a cup of coffee and an unseemly large slice of their plain cheesecake. But for the rest of the time I turn to my friend Brett, who manages to combine exquisite baking with a prodigious, almost industrial, production rate. Which is why over the past couple of years I must have sampled at least nine of his baked cheesecakes, at dinners, parties and picnics, and variously featuring chocolate, berries, and even a kiwi fruit. Last weekend it was lemon and raspberry, and it tasted damn fine as usual, even though I probably prefer plain. A recipe request for blogging purposes, however, was not forthcoming. Rest assured I shall not rest until the secret's out.

Update: The recipe has been revealed!

Ingredients

For Base:
200g crushed (in a food processor) digestives
100g melted butter

For Cheesecake Filling:
400-500g full fat soft cheese
250g marscapone
2 eggs
8oz caster sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla essence

Directions:

Mix digestives and butter together to make the base and press into the base of your springform tin to form an even layer. Put it in the fridge to chill and firm up.

Then make the filling. Mix all the ingredients thoroughly with a whisk until all the lumps have gone. Then pour it on top of the base and put it in the oven at 190C for an hour. You can add lemon or lime to the cheese mix if you like, and top with whatever you like afterwards.

The Cove

1 The Piazza

Covent Garden

London

WC2E 8HB

*Guest post by Andy*

Growing up in Cornwall left me with a deep-rooted fondness for pasties. There was something about those pastry-wrapped parcels of meat and potato that captured my heart, where rugby, choughs and tractors failed. So I was happy to discover The Cove pub, a corner of Cornishness squeezed above a kiosk of the West Cornwall Pasty Company in Covent Garden. True, no Cornish pub would charge 3.80 for a pint of ale. And there should technically be more random agricultural implements hanging on the walls. But with its artistic homage to smuggling, its wooden floors and beams, its decent selection of beers (Proper Job, Tribute, Betty Stogs etc) and, crucially, a wide array of pasties served with nothing else but napkins for about four quid a go, the place represents a West Country oasis in the middle of London. I'd been a few times before, with my Cornish friend G, and returning on a work night out I tried a "medium traditional" pasty, with steak, onion, potato and swede, paired with a pint of Betty - a proper treat. A colleague's balti pasty was less successful, possibly because innovation is un-Cornish. It was raining this time, but for when it's nice there's a balcony looking down over the piazza, allowing patrons to observe "London", with all its weird metropolitan ways. Arrive early to get a table.

The Britannia

44 Kipling Street

London

SE1 3RU

*Guest post by Andy*

I know this is supposed to be a food blog, but man shall not live by food alone. There's also whisky, and The Britannia pub offers more than 100 different bottles of the stuff. Me and M heard the pub had been sold to developers so we bolted down to Borough to work our way through ten fine single malts while we still had the chance. Auchentoshan, Rosebank, An Cnoc, Glenkinchie, Bowmore, Glen Scotia, Tomatin, Macduff, Tobermory and Bruichladdich... thankfully they're easier to drink than pronounce. There was little to steer our picks other than a huge blackboard listing the whiskies in alphabetical order and a map showing where they came from. Our spiritual journey resembled a flying tour without a guide, starting in the Lowlands and weaving our way unsteadily up through the Highlands, Speyside, and then west to Campbeltown and Islay. Experts in Scotch we are not, but we still found fun in labelling the dizzying range of flavours: peaty, buttery, salty, smoky, honey-ey. We also ate a grand sausage and mash with mustard and gravy for 7.95 a head, but I was too distracted to take a photo. The barmaid later revealed we had been misinformed - the pub has survived the sale and hopes to continue in its current guise for the next 35 years at least. So, plenty of time to check out the other 90 bottles then.

Wasabi

34 Villiers Street
London
WC2N 6NJ

*Guest post by Andy*

If the price of sushi usually puts you off, check out a Wasabi (there are 11 in London, you can't miss 'em). Four pieces of Salmon Nigiri, four Salmon Hosomaki, two Salmon Tobiko Rolls (with avocado, yellow pepper, flying fish roe and mayo) and a Tuna mustard Onigiri (rice ball) came to just 5.70 for takeaway. That's enough to feed two small people or one really hungry one - and it’s good for you! The sushi here is displayed wrapped in plastic, individually or in pairs, which you can pick and mix from the chiller with the empty boxes provided. Not the most environmentally sensible way of doing things, with all that packaging, but it keeps the hypothetical flies off. Then there are the combination sushi and sashimi boxes, edamame, and funny Japanese desserts. Or go to the counter for hot miso, bento and noodles. And don't forget your wasabi paste, pickled ginger and soy (5p each - when was the last time you paid 5p for anything?) I'm not sure what a sushi pro would say about the quality, but to someone who doesn't know any better, like me, Wasabi's wares taste amazing - the fish is fresh and the avocado is ripe. It's the only fast food place I know where you end up feeling better after eating.

Zigo's

35 Upper Street

N1 0PN

*Guest post by Andy*

It was Pizza Express, or Zigo’s. Two Italians. One I’ve been to about a hundred times, in various locations. The other sounded like a shot in the dark. So in we went. To start, M and I went for the avocado salad, which featured raw mushroom, slices of brown toast cut up into croutons and little evidence of the advertised vinaigrette. For my main, I chose their tagliatelle carpigliana, which the menu described as pasta with spinach, pine nuts, Gorgonzola and mascarpone in cream sauce. I like blue cheese, but I didn’t want a whole cow’s worth, so I asked the waitress to go easy on the Gorgonzola, and they did, to the extent that when the dish came I couldn’t taste any Gorgonzola. M, who ordered spaghetti bolognaise, said he could have made a better one at home, while J’s American Hot pizza was “sub-supermarket standard”. Oh, and the bottle of red we ordered would have been fine for 3.99 but at 13.95 was sheer theft. Three lessons learned: Just because it’s on Upper Street, doesn’t mean it’s ok; don’t try to mess with recipes; and finally – crucially – don’t go to Zigo’s.

St. Christopher's Inn

121 Borough High Street

London

SE1 1NP

*Guest post by Andy*

St Christopher’s is great for drinking and catching up. The restaurant is at the back of the pub so A and I carried our ales through to the candle-lit shadowy zone where we could conspire and plot at our leisure. We were happy to take our time over dinner, which was fortunate because the staff were over-stretched. A neighbouring party of four managed to get their entire drinks order removed from their bill after complaining about the slow and shoddy service, once they had cleaned their plates, of course. But the food was excellent. We shared a substantial bratwurst sausage with sauerkraut for starts, and for my main I ordered salt beef with vegetables and broth and some kind of interesting dumplings. A demolished a hearty, if slightly burnt, Pieminster Pie and mash. With a little help from Toptable the bill came to just over 20 quid for both of us. As the Governor of California used to say, I’ll be back.