Marco_Polo

Hi Moby, Good luck with your diet and all best wishes for every success! A couple of links that might be useful: The Organic Farmers Market I met these folks at the South West Festival of Food and Drink in Exeter in April. Seems to be a good, serious outfit sourcing a range of quality local organic foods, including vegetables, meat (such as outstanding lamb from the deliciously named Well Hung Meat Co), butter, plus dried and other goods, some wonderful organic juices (at least a small consolation if you're off wine), and even some brilliant organic chocolate (ok ok, no chocolate you said, but surely the odd treat is allowed now and then, especially if it's an organic treat, no?). Riverford Organic Vegetables I know you said that you are trying Abel and Cole, who I know nothing about, but if you're not satisfied, then it would be worth giving Riverford a try. We've had a regular weekly box now for a couple of years and though we get fed up with the stuff from time to time, especially over the winter months, some really good produce is beginning to appear at this time of year. The key with a box scheme, we've found, is that you must approach each week with no idea in mind of what you are going to cook. This adds a certain appetising serendipidity to the week's menus and it makes you have to be creative in making do with whatever you've got. However, if you don't bite the bullet right away and start chopping and cooking the day it arrives, in our experience the stuff has a tendency to pile up. So over winter we ate a lot of delicious root vegetable soups. Now with salads and greens and tomatoes and bags of pungent herbs and deliciously sweet carrots and always interesting varieties of potatoes and odd treats like an avocado or two or a jerusalem artichoke or a fennel bulb thrown in it is really not at all difficult. As for the 'food miles' the majority of the produce is Devon grown and even after transport to London, that's a damn site fewer than most organic produce travels before it reaches the supermarkets. As for the grains, I'd have a lot of trouble myself giving up pasta (as I'm sure you will too, given your magnificent stuffed pasta masterclass). Pizzoccheri, from Lombardy's Valtellina, are made with a mix of buckwheat flour and white flour and are really no more than an occasional curiosity. I'd put farro in the same category: something to make occasionally as a change, but not really a staple food. Japanese or Korean buckwheat noodles, however, are delicious, nicely flavoured, rather chewy and satisfying and should be easily available. I can send you a recipe if you like. As for rice, I have always despised brown rice, but lately have discovered organic brown shortgrain which is really good, nutty, plump, well flavoured, delicious with both western and Asian foods. I love it. No alcohol? Jeez, that really is a tough one. Not even the occasional glass of organic or biodynamique wine? If the latter is allowed, then the dry white Loire Savennières made by Nicolas Joly at La Coulée de Serrant is one of the great white wines of France, while the big Rhône house of Chapoutier is producing a full range of wines following biodynamique precepts. In bocca al lupo Marc

I'm not from Devon, but I've lived here for more than 25 years. There have been some rather curious statements here (clotted cream made from cream AND lard???) and there seems to be a misunderstanding that Devon, Cornish and clotted creams are all somehow very different. They are not. Clotted cream is made in both Devon and Cornwall from the rich milk from the herds that graze on the green verdant lands of this southwestern paradise. This is dairy country par excellence, after all, and the source of a truly outstanding range of farmhouse cheeses (not just farmhouse cheddar, but Cornish Yarg, Devon Oke, the outstanding range of soft cheeses from Sharpham, Beenleigh and other blues, and many more). It's not surprising that outstanding clotted cream is made in both counties, though in Devon they will say that their's the best, while the Cornish will beg to differ. Of course. A main consideration is whether clotted cream is made on a fairly large semi-industrial scale in the larger dairies or on a much smaller, artisan level. Either way, as John described, it is a product made by allowing unpasteurised milk to settle so that the rich, yellow almost butter like cream rises to the top, then heating this gently in large open trays so that cream scalds and solidifies and so can be scooped off. As it is heated in this fashion, all clotted cream is virtually pasteurised and thus has always been quite safe to transport - indeed for decades, a typical souvenir of the West Country is a small tray or box of clotted cream, sent through the post. Quicke's Dairy, who make an excellent farmhouse cheddar, and who are just down the road from me, produce an excellent clotted cream that we enjoy with fresh local strawberries. Roddick's seems to be a popular and widely available make (is this Cornish?). Incidentally, I recently came across an interesting organic 'fresh alternative' to clotted cream called 'crusty cream' from the West Hill Organic farm, in I think Dorset. 'Crusty cream' is made simply by allowing the cream to rise to the top, skimming it off and leaving it to thicken in the dairy chill room. It's not as thick or dense as clotted cream (which is really almost as thick as butter) and is really more like very rich double cream. Now, another question for Cornish and Devon folk to debate. For the classic Devon cream tea, we take our freshly baked scones, spread on a massively generous dollop of clotted cream, then add a spoonful of (preferably homemade) strawberry jam. The Cornish do it the other way around, first jam, then the cream. Or have I got it the wrong way round? And of course we should not forget that famous Cornish delight, thunder and lightning (treacle and clotted cream). It's summertime here: the best time of year to enjoy a West Country cream tea preferably in a pleasant tea garden out of doors. For what it's worth, my favourite remains the Southern Cross in Newton Poppleford. The Broadway House in Topsham is also excellent: always freshly baked scones and homemade jam. And of course that glorious Devon clotted cream. MP

There is an awful lot of great food writing on this site, much of it inspirational. When this thread was reborn yesterday, I just couldn't resist it. So down to my local butcher for some pork. "Something nice and fatty, please, Tony," I requested. "Some belly?" "No, too fatty. How about some shoulder mixed with some belly." "Fine," said Tony, and went out back to prepare the meat for me, a good couple of kilos. On returning home, I did roughly as Jaymes instructed. Prepared the meat in cubes, added to a cast-iron dutch oven, covered just with water. To the water, I added, for no particular reason except that it seemed right: a chopped red chilli, a chopped red onion, a good tablespoon or two of ground cumin, a good tablespoon or two of brown sugar, a good pinch of piri piri chilli, a splash of this and that. Brought the pot to the bare simmer and left it for 3 hours or so. As it cooked down, it smelled terrific and the cubes of meat became succulent, tender and juicy. Once almost all of the water had cooked off, the cubes of meat began to fry, and at this point, I turned up the heat and turned the meat cubes not continuously but quite regularly as they browned and began to carmelize. In fact, in the process some cubes shredded and became like pulled pork; others remained intact: The end result was sensational! Tender succulent cubes of flavourful and spicy meat, with a crunchy, carmelized exterior. We took a plate out into the garden to enjoy in the warm evening sun with some homemade salsa to enjoy as a drinking nibble with a glass or two of chilled Verdicchio. Later we wrapped the carnitas up in warm tortillas together with salsa, a dollop of crème fraiche, a sprinkling of freshly chopped cilantro, a squeeze of lime. Finished off the rest for breakfast this morning...Only problem? Cleaning the burnt off bits from the enamalled cast iron dutch oven. Right now the pan is soaking and it will take a bit of elbow grease, but it's a small price to pay for such a wonderful treat. Thanks, Jaymes, and everyone else! Marc

David our fisherman friend came around last evening. I knew he was going diving (in between looking after the twins) and I'd asked him for about 20 scallops. He hadn't yet had time to clean them - frankly it's not that difficult job to take them out of their shells, but it takes me at least four times as long as it takes him. So he was happy to do it then and there in our kitchen: hold the large shell flat-side up in his palm, insert a butter knife into the corner and wriggle it almost vertically to cut the muscle where it attaches to the shell; open it up, chuck away the curved shell; scrape off and discard the frilly skirt; slice off the scallop; pinch out the black stuff where the pinky-orange roe attaches to the milky white flesh; finally trim off the tough bit of meat that there always is the side where it was attached to the shell. We sucked down a couple of cold bottles of beer and I watched as he worked, incredibly quickly. The scallops had been on the bottom of the sea bed off of Budleigh Salterton no more than minutes, at most an hour or two, ago, and as David opened them, each living scallop pulsated and quivered. I've had David's scallops on many, many occasions, watched him open them often: but I've never had them so fresh that the white meat was still pulsating. So, what did we do with these sweet little critters? I had some air-dried ham from our local Dartmouth Smokehouse so I removed the roes and wrapped each scallop in a slice. Then I simply pan-fried them in butter for no more than two, at most three minutes total, and served with fresh organic new season asparagus, the scallops and asparagus both topped with a lime beurre blanc whipped up to a cappuccino-like froth with the Bamix. The point is, these scallops were so damn fresh that you could easily have enjoyed them raw. When wrapped in the air-dried ham and pan-fried for just a couple of minutes, these big meaty beauties were still just a tad transparent in the centre. That's how I like them and these did not disappoint! They were exceptional sweet, delicate and seafresh - absolutely sensational. I'll try the oven trick another time: I'm sure it is delicious. But when you have shellfish this fresh, you are so eager and excited to eat that few, I imagine, will ever have the patience to wait! MP

Sheesh, I'm going to Tuscany and Umbria on Wednesday. Was hoping for some decent weather but looks like I better pack a mac. Not what the doctor ordered at all!

Sod's law...

Anyone yet mentioned Moscato di Pantelleria? If you are friends can only carry back one item, this is what I'd request. Though occasionally available here in the UK, this is one of the rare and undervalued dessert wines of the world. It is produced from Zibibbo grapes (a variety of Moscato) grown just an island stone's throw from North Africa. For the passito version the already sunbaked grapes are further laid out to dry on matts in the hot African wind and sun, further concentrating sugar, flavours and aroma. These raisined grapes are pressed to result in a thick, dense mosto that is fermented and the walnut-brown to nearly-black wine that results is incredibly sweet, concentrated yet intriguingly delicate, with an almost floral, orange-blossom character that is just delightful. What else, if your friends are feeling in generous pack-horse mood? Well, why not a whole pecorino canestrato or, less heavy, a ricotta salata. The latter, aged salty ricotta, is the cheese for grating in Sicily and will be delicious over your dish of pasta alla Norma. And why not ask them if they'd mind strapping a (small) anguria to their backs? Sicilian watermelon is undoubtedly the best in the world. Apart from that, I'd be happy with just a couple of lemons tree-picked from the fabled Conca d'Oro. The scent alone would be enough to transport me away from the blustery rains and wind of spring-time in the UK... And two lemons would be just about sufficient to make an exquisitely simple but deliciously fragrant spaghetti al limone. MP

Craig, great article, well written and researched. When we lived outside of Florence while researching 'The Wine Roads of Italy' we had the chance to spend some time with friends and neighbours home-distilling grappa in a garage. The grappa wasn't that brilliant, if I'm entirely honest, but the occasion was a meaningful one. I wrote about it in that book, concluding with these words: In truth, to me, the raw colourless spirit that emerged directly from Roberto's still was barely potable: but the men we were with waxed lyrical, their eyes misty, not only from the searing alcohol but also out of nostalgia for the remembrance of times past, and the re-connection with generations-old rural roots which today many had moved so far away from. That said, I adore grappa, good grappa, of course. My favourite is made by Paolo Marolo outside of Alba, mainly from fresh wine-drenched grape pomace from prestigious local wine estates. Paolo's wood-aged grappa gialla from Nebbiolo (grappa di Barolo and grappa di Barbaresco) can be sublime. The bottles are works of art, the labels decorated with local woodcuts. If anyone is in the area and wants to see a true artisan operation and discover how wonderful this distilled essence of the grape can be, contact: Paolo Marolo Distelleria Santa Teresa Case Sparse, 35 12067 Mussotto d'Alba CN tel 0173 33144 fax 0173 361240 Marc

The Exeter Pizza Express is in an old Tudor (?) building that escaped the bombs, magnificently sited and positioned overlooking the city's Gothic cathedral. I too like Pizza Express, always pretty reliable and the wines are usually better than average. I'm not sure if it's still available, but for a time they offered Donato d'Angelo's exceptional Aglianico del Vulture from deepest Basilicata - doubt if they sold much coz of the offbeat and unknown name, but we drank it by the buckets. Of course just about anything at all would taste good with that richly flavoured stunner (though I usually go for the American hot - creature of habit). As far as pizza chains go, what does anyone think of Zizzi's. I know it's the same ownership as ASK, similar menu, but the whole schmoozle seems to me to work far better. Nice atmosphere, fake wood oven (thank god, real wood ovens unless handled skilfully are a recipe for disaster), efficient and friendly young staff. We've now got one on Gandy Street here in Exeter, nothing great or exceptional but a very pleasant venue to meet friends or to take the kids. Marc

Oh dear, you mean this wonderful landmark restaurant (with its actual carved angel figurehead) will be lost forever and will become just another good (or who knows) even great restaurant? For those of us who live down this way and have loved going to the Carved Angel for years, even decades, this is very sad news indeed. What's in a name? The Carved Angel resonates with memories, linked to Tom Jaine and Joyce Molyneux of course (I can picture Joyce clearly in the open plan kitchen), and also for us with trips down the coast in our boat, tying up alongside the public quay (three boats abreast, always a very noisy place to overnight, with the hooray-henry drunken yotties clambering all over your deck) and with memories of intimate diners à deux and later lunches en famille. For that hallowed name now to be sold as a 'brand' (gawd, how I hate that word) yet without the soul from which it emanated seems very sad indeed. Of course none of this has anything to do with what Burton-Race is planning for the future. Who knows, perhaps in time he will create something memorable and lasting, too? Given that television is a driving force behind this, though, and given what has happened to The Seafood Restaurant, I am less optimistic. Remember, The Carved Angel was not a restaurant that had declined dramatically and was resting on former laurels, or if it was, then it shouldn't have been. The CA was owned by Peter Gorton and his co-owners of the renowned Horn of Plenty in nearby Gulworthy and they certainly could have done something magnificent with this splendid and unique place. It is very disappointing that they chose instead to sell the venue but, somewhat cynically it seems to me, hang on to the name as a 'brand'. MP

OK who else watched last night's episode? Compred to last week, GR was positively (disappointingly?) tame, well-behaved, even, dare I suggest, well-intentioned. And the FUCKOMETER™ hardly even registered. At one point, the great man even said, <shock, horror> GOOD, GOOD, GOOD!!! </shock, horror> The only time he managed to rouse himself (and this did seem rather a set up - you could almost imagine the Assistant Producer, clipboard in hand, counting up the 'fucks' and seeing that there weren't quite enough) was when the milque-toast restaurant owner Neill plucked up the courage to suggest that GR's caesar salad was, um, er, 'too big'. Not that it was bad, not that he didn't like it, simply that it was 'too big' and he couldn't finish it. GR went ballistic and turned on the poor quivering, pale-faced fellow with characteristic rage, but by then his cover had already been blown. In encouraging the young trainees, in getting them to work as a team and produce what he even acknowledged was excellent food, in praising them and cajoling them and demonstrating how it was possible to get the best out of them (not by shouting or swearing or abusing) he actually revealed himself as someone who really did care - he actually revealed himself as a 'Nice Guy'. Gawd, where, will this end, I ask? At this rate, we'll soon be seeing his craggy face in our living rooms on Sainsbury's ads ("lubbly fucking jubbly"), holding babies and running for Parliament. MP

Don't forget to try kalbi tchim - Korean-style soy braised short ribs. Similar marinade, brown in a dutch oven, add the marinade and water to almost cover, and slow braise for a good few hours until the meat is virtually falling off the bone. Char-grilled kalbi is of course sensational, but there are times when braised short ribs are even more satisfying. There's something about slow-cooked meat on the bone that is just so damn good. Problem for me here in Britain is that short ribs are not a normal cut of meat, so I'm living a life of deprivation. Occasionally I ask my butcher nicely to prepare some for me, but it's quite a fag to do so and the result is never quite the same as I grew up on. I sometimes dream of kalbi... MP

Hi Java-Joe, Here's a description for an incredibly simple but delicious caramel candy, torrone croccante, made with equal amounts of sugar, coarsely chopped almonds, a little lemon rind, a pinch of cinnamon, nothing else (except patience and elbow effort). It's absolutely sensational and would seem to be foolproof. On the other hand, it might have been Paola's stout little paiolo di rame (copper pot)... Marc

Sounds to me that the problem is not the cooking but possibly the scallops themselves. I get diver's scallops from David, my local fishmonger. He scuba dives to the seabed off the coast at Budleigh Salterton, Devon, no more than 15 metres deep, and gathers these beauts by hand. At the moment, they are not that big: once removed from the shell just smaller than a 50 pence piece, with their bright orange roe still attached, maybe a couple of fingers thick. To be honest, I'm not a great fan of the roe, pretty though it is. What I usually do is remove the roe, trim off the tough bit of muscle, and slice each scallop in half horizontally. Then heat up some unsalted butter in a heavy non-stick frying pan. When sizzling, add the scallops one at a time, going around the pan clockwise. When I get to those that were added first, it's usually time to flip them (no more than a minute a side - the pan must be hot so that the surface becomes browned and caramelised). When I've flipped them all, it's usually time to take them out. Then a squeeze of lime into the pan, perhaps a slosh of dry Pinot Grigio, maybe a nugget of sweet butter swirled around, reduce to a syrup. Plate the scallops, and dribble over the sauce. What could be simpler? What could be better? Certainly with scallops this fresh, the cooking time is measured in seconds and the merest minutes and there is no need to cook in the oven. Marc

C'mon, Moby, the kid was easy pickings and he got a major league roasting. In the full public glare of primetime broadcasting, this was one brutal public humiliation, the modern equivalent of being put in the stocks for the public to see and jeer and toss rotten scallops at. GR makes those US marines-type boot camp sergeants who shout at everyone and who are trotted out for reality tv shows seem like boy scouts. Of course he was laying it on thick. It's part of his carefully calculated bad boy image, and I agree, at times it did not seem as if he really meant it. But that didn't make it any less humiliating or uncomfortable for the 'kid-chef'. Of course, let's be honest. For most of us, safe in the comfort of our middle class sofas watching on our widescreen Sonys, smugly wrapped in our own foodie knowledge and superiority, it was just as easy for us (and I certainly include myself in this) to snort and sneer at the kid-chef's culinary ineptitudes, if not eff and blind with quite the panache of GR. And there was certainly a dig at northern provincialism, too, it seemed to me, where the only food the punters (two old boys in flat caps picked out 'randomly' to give the taste test) really want are prawn cocktail, steak and ale pie and chicken bloody kiev. Talk about patronising! In the end, I have to say it left something of a rather sour taste (in between the chortles). It was apparent that GR really didn't give a flying f**k about the kid or his career; he was simply a televisual vehicle for GR to rant and rave and strut about at in the arrogant and superior manner of the celebrity chef-deity, whose restaurants are the shrine at which so many now worship. Amusing, entertaining, riveting, certainly: but ultimately, like so many meals these days that promise much but don't deliver, rather tasteless and unsatisfying. Looking forward to the next episode? You bet I am! MP

What a wonderful recipe for tv: take one utterly incompetent chef in a kitchen that, as GR himself said, is an 'effing disgrace'; one restaurant owner completely lacking ideas, vision, direction or a sense of what food is or should be about; add Gordon Ramsay, a touch of spice, stir and whip vigorously and what do you get? Absolutely rivetting telly! I mean, how could you go wrong? This poor dumb chef couldn't even cook an omelette. When he tried to cook a simple bistro meal for his parents and grandparents, he blew the whole thing hopelessly. The opportunities for GR to go absolutely ballistic, with full, unexpurgated expletives, were immense and the great man did not disappoint. This was brilliant primetime entertainment, certainly, and a nice variation on the reality tv shows which we have had a surfeit of recently. But the real worrying thing is that such inept chefs are serving such rubbish - and downright dangerously unhygienic - foods up and down the country. Throughout the show, the hopeless restaurant featured was compared to its successful competitor down the road. In the end, the hapless, hopeless chef got the push. Where did he end up? Working for that same competitor down the road (no doubt hired because he can now put on his CV that he did a 'stage' with GR). Who had the last laugh? Certainly not the paying customers. MP

Oh man, I remember sweetcorn from my teenage years when we lived in the Midwest briefly: Ohio sweetcorn, purchased by the baker's dozen from roadside stalls just picked. How we'd enjoy that corn only lightly cooked, piping hot so that it burns your fingers and roof of the mouth, slathered in good sweet butter, lots of salt and plenty of black pepper. One of my greatest food memories on earth, and totally, impossibly, irrefutably, eternally not available in Britain... But to lug a turkey frier into the fields and enjoy that sweetcorn within minutes of being picked! I can only imagine how good that must be!!! How do you fire up the turkey frier? Can't quite picture what this portable beautiful beast is like? Have you got a pic you can post? Only thing that comes close to matching this in concept is catching mackerel off a hand line with feathers -- seeing that quick, darting, shimmering flash of silver, sometimes two or three flashes since the line has six hooks-and-feathers, pulling the wriggling fish into the boat. Unhook, clean, then straight into the frying pan...Mackerel that fresh is the greatest fish in the world. And they are running right now. Will try and catch some this weekend... Marc

Hi Yin, yes, we too can't wait for the first English asparagus - usually some spindly sprue first of all to whet the appetite before the thicker jumbo stuff from Norfolk or Evesham becomes available. These days more often than not, we'll either simply steam, or else oven roast or sometimes cook over the charcoal grill, then season with the best single-estate extra virgin olive oil and (very important) a good crush of Malden sea salt, a grind of coarse black pepper. (Come to think of it, Richard, our local greengrocer has some mighty good Spanish asparagus around now for us to enjoy while we're waiting). What else? Baby broad beans, but only when picked and eaten direct from my mother-in-law's garden, at which point they are so tender and delicious that they are best enjoyed raw, or only slightly cooked, sautéed in a little bacon fat. As for soft fruits, we enjoy going to the Manstree Fruit Farm across the river from us where we'll enjoy throughout summer the most intensely flavoured strawberries and raspberries, perfect for making summer pudding. Sometimes we pick our own, but more often than not I ring them in advance to ensure there is plenty available, picked by the Boyce family that morning. Another vanishing seasonal delicacy we eagerly look forward to is Exe salmon. We live on the banks of a broad tidal estuary that was once the source of vast amounts of wild Atlantic salmon. Today, only a handful of fisherman remain, and the season has been limited to the briefest period: about mid-June to the end of August (it used to start on Feb 14, but has been restricted in order to try and let stocks replenish as the salmon swim upriver to spawn). Exe salmon is caught by fishermen using seine nets: one man stays on the muddy foreshore holding an end of the long net weighted at the bottom, cork floats on the top. The other rows maybe 2/3 across the narrow channel at low tide, allowing the net to feed out, drifts and waits, then rows around to shore in a big loop (pleasure craft have to take evasive action often in the restricted waters so as not to foul the nets). Once back on the squelching, deep mud, and wearing chest high waders, he leaves the boat and gradually the two men approach each other, gathering in the net carefully, slowly, painstakingly. More often than not their efforts are in vain, but with luck there will be a glistening Exe salmon, sometimes even two or more, thrashing and entwined in the net! This king of fish is quite different to salmon caught elsewhere, even other wild salmon. The flesh is very pale but still pink, and very lean (unlike fattier farmed salmon); it has an intense, earthy flavour that some don't like but which we adore. Like the English summer, it is a brief seasonal delight that comes all too rarely. But for us, Exe salmon is the taste of summer. Marc

I'm delighted to hear it. There is a new and enthusiastic young chef in charge, Simon Dow, who has replaced Jean-Marc Zanetti, who was head chef since the place opened in, I think, April 2001. I've had two good meals there lately: the Exeter South West Festival of Food and Drink special lunch, and, last week, at a special wine dinner hosted by Andy Tarry of Execellars centering on the wines from the Tuscan estate of Avignonesi. The meal was simple but just perfect as a foil for an astonishing and brilliant array of wines (I plan, when I have a moment, to write about the wines elsewhere). As for a general comment on dining experiences at Michael Caines at the Royal Clarence, I've on the whole had very good meals here, though there have been one or two issues from time to time. But visitors should definitely not come here expecting the full-on Michael Caines/Gidleigh Park experience. That is something completely different, and though Gidleigh trained chefs work in Michael's restaurants and the food has a strong Gidleigh influence, the whole experience is totally different (as are the prices). Michael's aim, in creating his new signature restaurants, is wholeheartedly to bring fine dining to a larger public, those who would never go to a place like GP, either because of the expense or through feeling intimidated by the perceived formality of such a place. (In fact, GP is not really that formal at all - it is a truly comfortable, magnificent country house hotel in the best sense - the only time we actually stayed there was on my wife's 40th birthday - I had bought her a tandem bicycle for her birthday, and she thought we were just going for a cycle and a picnic. We arrived about 30 very hilly miles later at Gidleigh, I suggested we stop for afternoon tea, but of course it had all been arranged for us to stop the night, with friends bringing out K's clothes and looking after our children.) Marc

Glad you liked it! Did you have any fish there? It's usually sensational. Another local tip: The Fish Shed at Dart's Farm, Topsham has now started its fish and chips. Just had some for lunch, sitting outside on the picnic tables in the field. Sensational!! Really light beer batter on fresh flaky cod, excellent chips, light vinegar and a squeeze of lemon. Also grilled sea bass, David's own diver's scallops, monkfish and more. Fish can be eiher battered and fried or grilled. Definitely worth a detour. Cheers, Marc

What a wonderful homage to an end-of-season delicacy, Pedro. I've never eaten becada but your description makes me feel like I enjoyed it at the table alongside you. I can of course imagine the long, lingering taste of that exceptional Amontillado, the best of whch can truly be among the greatest wines in the world. ¡Muchas gracias! Marc

Thanks for the link, Chris. I did not realise that BBR was so strong with top Italian producers. Very impressive list indeed. As a general question, where do other lovers of Italian wines (in the UK) purchase from? Liberty has some great wines, as does Enotria. Valvona & Crolla also has an extensive and intelligent selection. Cento per Cento Wines, a new web outfit, has some funky and off-beat wines (including the sensational wines of Paolo Bea in Montefalco; even, my god, wines from the highest vineyards in Europe -- from the Cave Coop de Morgex et de La Salle in Valle d'Aosta). Oddbins is not as good as it used to be; Majestic has a few good wines (Tedeschi, Castello di Banfi). Anywhere else I should be looking? MP

Jeez, babyluck, this same goddam thing happened to me just last night. Earlier in the day my cycling mate Phil texted to say that he was bagging the usual Wed afternoon ride because his wife had cooked some dodgy chicken and he was up in the bog all night being sick. I had previously taken some chicken out of the deep-freeze, thighs and legs, which I slashed to the bone, then marinaded Korean style (lots of garlic, ginger, spring onions, soy sauce, sesame oil, freshly ground black pepper). Made a big pot of rice (mixture shortgrain brown and white), cucumber salad, green salad: a usual mid-week meal that we all enjoy. As usual, I cooked the chicken on the Viking stovetop grill on a medium-low setting. This is normally perfect, provided you turn the pieces regularly: the meat cooks through to the bone slowly, without burning on the outside; 40 minutes does the trick, no problem. But after 40 minutes, I checked a piece or two and there was definitely blood around the bone and drumstick knuckle. So I gave the chicken pieces another 20 minutes, still on low and bathed in marinade so as not to dry out. Took off four pieces, left the rest on the grill, and we began to eat. Every damn piece still had blood around the bone. Now if Phil hadn't cried off our usual Wednesday cycle with a dicky gut, I probably wouldn't have given it a second thought. Like the Monty Python parrot that was definitely deceased, I knew that damn chicken was well and truly cooked (if not quite cinderized). Well, we all dutifully put our pieces back on the grill and cooked for another ten minutes. Still bloody. Kids not happy, wife not happy, just pushed their pieces of chicken around on the plates, gnawed at the outside but left the rest. Me, I ate six pieces (I was ravenous after my Wed ride). And hey, I'm still here, no dicky stomach, no nothing. So your post this morning demonstrating that blood around a chicken bone is not likely to prove fatal is somewhat reassuring. Problem is, chicken blood's just not that appetising, is it? Now I can remember when we used to cook chinese style soya chicken by plunging the bird in a boiling soy and water mixture, bringing said fowl back to the boil, cover, then turn off the heat. Leave for a couple of hours, then chop into bite-size pieces with a cleaver. Dip in coarse salt and Sichuan pepper. Wonderful! The meat, though, was always pink and just underdone. But I never ever got sick. Perhaps I was just lucky? Or perhaps they just make chicken like they used to do. Does anybody know at what precise point in time and history our chickens became infected with salmonella and thus ruined forever the pleasure of cooking and eating that delicious dish?! MP

I've enjoyed Boscarelli wines in the past but not for a while. Where can you get them from in the UK, Chris? Speaking of Vino Nobile, as a matter of interest, I'm going to a wine dinner next week at the Michael Caines Restaurant, Exeter that will centre on the wines of Avignonesi. Of course Ettore Falvo has long been something of an iconoclast, making wines more French in style than Italian. I'm not usually a great fan of Italian barrique-fermented Chardonnay, but Il Marzocco is still one of the best. I recall, too, in the late 80s tasting an astonishing 100% Merlot that was a silky and elegant as a top class Pomerol. I Grifi (Prugnolo Gentile and Cab S) has also been a favourite super-Tuscan, consistently well made. So it will be interesting to see what wines are presented at the dinner. Of course, Avignonesi's traditional wines are good too, and I'm looking forward to the rare chance to sample their iconic and legendary vin santo. Should be worth coming to the dinner for that alone. Tickets still available, if anyone is interested (cost including meal and all wines is a virtual snip at £55). I'll try and report back in due course. MP

Hi nyc cyclist. I'm a road cyclist and I love the Dordogne. I was out there last month, in fact, not cycling but helping my brother-in-law, who has just taken over a 3-star Logis de France between Bergerac and Sarlat. It would be a lovely base for cycling day trips as it's situated roughly between Bergerac and Sarlat (maybe 20K from each?). He's got a great local chef serving both cuisine du terroir (foie gras, confit de canard, mushrooms, truffles, etc), as well as some more imaginative dishes. It's an absolutely stunning place, old stone building with nicely furnished rooms with views over unspoiled countryside, a huge outdoor terrace for eating in fine weather, dining room with open fire, and a small swimming pool. Also a secure area to put away your bikes. The hotel is called La Salvetat. Contact details are on the web site and the owners, Steve and Ann, are very friendly. MP