Snovember Lunch : Eggs en Cocotte

With the arrival of the snow this week and the imminent fear of unemployment in the New Year, I spent most of this morning staring out of a frosted window in my pants pondering my current situation... What am I going to eat? What’s left in the cupboards? And how am I going to afford to eat out and write another review for this blog? Actually come to think of it maybe I only started this blog to avoid having to look for a new job.  Well let’s be honest it’s going to be some time so I’m resorting to sharing my lunch with you.

Having flicked through a few books and my rapidly depleting cupboards I decided on Eggs en Cocotte or Baked Eggs from the simple yet brilliant book by Michel Roux ‘Eggs’.

The original recipe calls for Girolles (also known as Chanterelles), a beautiful aromatic wild mushroom that grows in Scotland.  The season begins in spring with the majority growing just after harsh rainfalls during the summer months.  Sadly, they are just out of season and unlikely to pop up at my local corner shop anytime soon.  A few Buttons or Chestnuts will do just fine.

To get started, part fill the buttered moulds with the reduced cream of mushrooms, parsley, thyme and a squeeze of lemon juice, top with an egg, a spoonful more cream, put in a bain-marie in the oven at 170C for 10 minutes and wait.

With the snow falling ever harder, a mound of heavily buttered toast and three minutes left on the timer, my girlfriend fell through the door having been sent home from work and stood windswept and shivering in the hall. That is some timing!

An egg down but with company we tucked in.  These little pots of pleasure pretty much burst with sunshine as the yolks split and joined forces with the earthy, herbed cream.  Rich, warm and absolutely delicious this time of year, especially if your snowed in and halfway through an episode of Murder She Wrote while you’re supposed to be at work.  Next time maybe I’d add a piece of crisp pancetta or smoked bacon but that’s the joy of this quick lunch, you are likely to have most of the ingredients lying round the kitchen. No need to venture out in the snow.

Having mopped up and cleaned the ramekin with the last standing soldier of toast, I only wish the other one was still there!

Book: Eggs by Michel Roux

(Will get a camera ASAP this phone is not really cutting it)

The King's Wark - Leith, Edinburgh

We arrived in the Port of Leith, an industrial hub lying to the north of the city which has undergone extensive regeneration since the eighties. It has been transformed from a post-war deprived area of ruffians, prostitutes and pirates to Scotland’s Michelin Mile.  Strolling along the cobbled streets aside the Water of Leith I get a feeling the people needing to benefit most from such regeneration were sadly shipped out, as sleek glass frontages and foie gras were shipped in.

Stepping through the door of The King’s Wark I felt warmed that some of the history of Leith still remained.  A wooden clad bar packed with people chatting over bountiful portions whilst Captain Sparrow and his merry wenches busily and efficiently squeezed between tables with steaming bowls of chowder

What is it about Mussels that make you feel so comforted?  Is it eating with your hands? Or slurping up the remaining juices with chunks of well buttered bread?  Whatever the answer the mussels here were no exception and were by far the highlight of the meal.  Bursts of succulent Scottish seafood dissolved happily in the mouth leaving a sweet and creamy taste just long enough to grab the next meaty morsel, peel it from its shell and pop it in, delicious.  My fellow shipmate and I fought over the remaining sauce, so light, yet full of flavour I would have readily taken a running jump from the plank and dived right in!  (Need I say more!)

Washed down with a pint of the local Deuchers IPA we waited cheerily for our mains.  A generous sized Aberdeen Angus Ribeye arrived alongside proper pub chips, although flavoursome this prime cut of beef was sadly over cooked.   The only real disappointment was a Baked Pollack from the specials board. It had less flavour then if you were to lick the salty deck of the good ship king’s wark dry.  Overall the dish was a tad drowned and disappointing with limp leaves left swimming for the edge of the plate to dry out.  As for the dessert, well, a bog standard brownie, no more, maybe a little less but the heart and soul of this place doesn’t lie in its desserts.

Although the food may have gone a little flat, our spirits certainly hadn’t.  An infectious, bustling place full of good cheer, hearty food and a great atmosphere, we left warmed and contented.  I would return tomorrow for those mussels and will be back again next time the ship docks because the Kings Wark does exactly what it says on the tin, honest pub food at fantastic prices in a cosy and confident atmosphere.  I only wish there were more watering holes like this one.  Ship ahoy.

6/10

The letter... and everything after

Twelve months ago sat drinking chai somewhere in India I wrote a letter that changed a lot...

The first supper; Back in 1989 at the age of ten my family and I visited friends in a small village in Rouen, France. The setting itself was like nothing I had ever seen, a beautiful converted barn set amongst a cider orchard with its own fishing lake and pressing barn. The farmhouse kitchen led onto a long dining room with long wooden table and benches to match, where each morning we scoffed buckets of hot chocolate and croissants. On the last night of our stay we gathered around and enjoyed the most memorable meal of my life.

A large casserole dish of a monkfish stew was served and ladled into bowls. Huge chunks of monkfish came in a rich sauce neither too thick nor to thin and had a warm, almost sweet aroma to it. I had never eaten monkfish before and have never tasted monkfish like it since. The firm yet delicate texture of the flesh dissolved slowly and the continuous waves of flavour put a smile on my face. At the age of ten I discovered the meaning of the word 'content' and at that moment could have wanted for nothing more. That's the beauty of food; smells can transport you in a instant, tastes can unlock distant memories but most importantly the experience and pleasures of eating great food simply stay with you.

Sadly, the bowls were eventually drained and mopped clean by the remaining bread but the meal was far from over. Out came a dessert you could only of dreamed of as a young boy, 'a cake made of ice cream!'. A local shop specialised in this amazing gateaux and Wall's Vienetta it was not! So this is how my hobby, interest, love, obsession or whatever you want to call it began with food. The trend continued and food is still my passion along with travel. Pho Bo in Vietnam, Tom Yum in Thailand, Roast Lamb and Beetroot in New Zealand, Clotted Cream in Cornwall or Oysters in Oban, I genuinely love food.

... the letter went on to ask for a job and  I sent said letter to the top of the food chain and got very, very lucky.

In brief, I relocated and started work as a Commis for some of the most respected chefs in the country.  They taught me so much in so little time from simply tearing a salad leaf to carving a pig’s head and everything in-between.  It also taught me that to create truly incredible food is a lifetime’s commitment and you have to sacrifice almost all but the kitchen.  A sacrifice I sadly wasn’t ready to take.

During my time in the kitchen my Sous Chef was never fully convinced that this was the first professional kitchen I had ever worked in and decided I was an undercover journalist cunningly disguised as his Commis Chef to keep an eye on them all.  And there you have it The Undercover Commis was born.

So, I've hung up my white jacket and picked up a pencil.  Maybe I was always going to be a better eater then I was a cook... but now its time to concentrate on the writing.

Thanks to all who made things happen and hope you enjoy the blog.