MobyP

It's the customs questions that I'm worried about. "Excuse me sir, is that a castrated chicken, or are you just visiting?"

Jonathan - that would definitely get a gold star in your book. Thanks.

Apologies.

And where do you find it in London?

What is this?

"No, we don’t sell capons – it is illegal to caponise birds now. And, yes, as regards chickens and guinea fowl it is the same price regardless of weight. Regards, Susie Charles"

Aha. So, Mr Lynes, you admit that you don't blame wasabi for the downfall of ship-building along the Tyne? Or is that a non-denial denial?

Yesiree - groundbreaking field research. If life and limb need be threated over a nice piece of lamb, I'm your fella. The room is one of the great locations in central London, although I always feel (on the multiplicitous but sober two - or drunken three - occasions that I've been there) that I've fallen into take 218 of a Stanley Kubric film. It has that incredibly majestic but slightly haunted feel. Travel back to the New Year's party of1935 where jazz was jazz, men were penguins, women were ostriches, and Wilfrid the inconsequential doorman was about to chop up the coat-check girl with his axe (named Betsy). Which is to say - even if you only go for a drink, you should definitely go. I bet Halloween was a hoot. Or hoot-ish. Or hoot-ly. The lunch menu was quite restricted compared to the full a la carte (some of which looks pretty sexy). A few starters, a few mains. But all of the food - save the lemon tart - was certainly better than I expected. It was accomplished, if not majestic cooking. If I was in the area, and looking for a fairly decent meal, I'd go again. The scallop 'bon bon' was perfectly cooked, and tasted really fresh. Andy generously avoids mentioning that he hates/dislikes/never-saw-the-point-of wasabi - possibly he blames it for the downfall in ship construction along the Tyne, I wouldn't hazard a guess - but it was light enough to add some zing to the scallop. And how much pressure can you put on a poor bit of horseradish? I had a bowl of fresh taglietelle with lemon, pinenuts, basil - a recipe from Ben's River Café days (like the roasted porcini with pancetta, thyme). It was fairly good. (Basil off-setting the lemon, pasta cooked properly, etc - it's hard to wax mystical over a plate of pasta unless it waxes over you first). For mains, a perfectly cooked piece of salmon. Crispy skinned, with a blush of darker pink in the centre. Surrounded by a really clean veloute, speckled with chives, peas, and baby broad beans (God knows where he found them at this time of year). Deserts, cheeses - we were plied generously with them all. Apart from the lemon tart - which I think had been in the fridge for a while - it was well done. As for the rest of the menu: Grilled shish of pigeon and pork belly confit, the Yorkshire grouse, and the whole roast chicken with porcini (for 2) are dishes I would return for. I think this is a guy who is trying to cook some thought-out food. He's not going for fireworks, but he obviously cares about ingredients. To a certain degree this might be incongrous to the setting, the ethos of the place. We shall see. On the darker side - I would like to offer myself as an entirely corruptible partner for any further field research, consequential or no. My range of services is extensive, and I'm almost entirely likely to take your point of view. Damnit, no stoop is too low.

Bad L'Etranger. Bad, bad L'Etranger! Thanks Circeplum.

The ability to write about a meal is, for me, for the most part, in inverse proportion to how good it was. But isn't that what we all want? To be struck dumb; to be rendered so completely inarticulate by an experience, that by the end it possesses us as much as we possess it? If I can focus for long enough to criticize the manner in which the napkin has been folded, then baby, I'm in the wrong place. So - I have very little to say about my meal at Tom Aikens. The food was - to paraphrase Mr. Rayner - never less than very good, and on occasion astonishing. The service was - to quote my wife - "the best I've ever received" (and she's had some serious nosh in her time). Glasses were refilled without notice, or noticing. The assistence of the sommelier was precise, humorous, and respectful. Upon being told of my wife's allergy to mushrooms, the kitchen made sure that she had alternate options that equalled anything given to the rest of the table. What's more, and most unusually, the whole staff seemed to take responsibility for her allergy - rather than just writing it on the ticket and leaving it up to the kitchen (like Ducasse in Paris, where despite a warning, she was given mushrooms, and had an allergic reaction). The presentation was among the most beautiful I've seen. On a couple of occasions, the whole table just sat and stared at our plates, not wanting to disturb the work. The cep tart reminded me of those impossible Bras designs (Frank Gehry meets an overgrown Japanese rock garden). The roast pineapple resembled a cubist or futurist impression of the 20's. And on and on. But the details of the meal, the food, the textures, the generosity of the experience... I don't really have anything to say.

Has anyone been yet to (the honourably mentioned) L'Etranger? It's on Gloucester Road in Kensington. I keep hearing good things about it, but have yet to throw my wallet and evil intentions in their direction.

That's some powerful pig-fu you have going there.

Please note : some of these links may require free or paid registration to view. Others may be used in court as a demonstration of poor taste and/or low moral character. This week has only the choicest and most tender selection of reviews, cooking, and drunken debauchery from the culinaria of: The Times The Independent The Guardian The Observer This Is London Restaurants Our Man Jay on the nostalgia of actually having dinner. Never eat a critic to send a man's job. Pied à Terre by Daniel Finklestein. Matthew Fort at groovy yet fusionistic Jaan. Marina O'Loughlin on the Tastes of Lombardy. Jan Moir: Shumi - Blink and you'll miss it. Terry Durack: Essenza - does exactly what it says on the tin. A A Gill: Man of the People - Socialist Revolutionary or Imperialist Stooge? At Chowki. Fay Maschler: Viktor - modern Japanese with - dear oh dear - Latin American, French and Russian influences. Food Gordon Ramsey wants to help you get a date with Sexy Food. Marcus Wareing: This week it's Perfect Roast Lamb. Pumpkins for Dummies. A trio from Jill Dupleix: Pumpkin soup with sweet onions and sage. Chicken Tikka. Easy choucroute. Winter Warmers - involving, obviously, yet more pumpkins. Richard Ehrlich - The perfect Lemon Curd Mark Hix goes nutty with - Whisky and walnut tarts and Lentil and chestnut soup Wine Etc Why George W, The CIA, and the FDA want your Wine. Jane MacQuitty gets fruity on the descriptions of wine. Superplonk. Japanese Whisky Rachel Simhon: Chianti Cellar notes #5: 110 quid for a bottle of the Ozzy good stuff. Is it worth it?

Brava! Do you ever hire yourself out as a haute body guard? I have a res at Ramsey's - and if they give me any crap over the amuse, I want to make sure I have some big guns to back me up. Sort of Quentin Tarantino meats Steingarten. "Pumpkin? You call this PUMPKIN?!" (swish swish as the sword eviscerates the waiter, splurge splatter as viscera slop over carpet, "Uurgh aargh" says waiter as he realises he meant 'butternut squash.'

Look what I found. The testimonials (from Michel Roux, Rowley Leigh (sp?) etc) sound pretty impressive. I emailed them, asking if they ever do Capons. I'll let you know the response.

I've seen poulet de Bresse in both Harvey Nicks and Harrods. I guess I'll have to ask about the Capons. Thanks, Jonathan.

If uncooked - pork belly has a fantastic amount of internal fat, as well as collagen (the good stuff between most muscle fibers, not just beverly hills lip-gloss). This means it holds up extremely well to fast or slow roasting, or - when sliced - frying - or best of all, braising. My two favourites - take one large or two smaller slabs of pig belly, and season well, then take handfulls of crushed garlic, bruised thyme, rosemary, sage, and either lay them over the piece, and then roll up and tie with string, or sandwich between the two smaller pieces. Roast in a hot oven for fifteen minutes, and then a slow oven for 2 or 3 hours. The herbs perfume the meat like you wouldn't believe - and it becomes like a mock porchetta (the italians debone an entire pig, and stuf it with herbs, and slow roast it). The other way - roll up the belly tightly, tie off with string. Braise it with mire poix, white wine, and some good chicken stock for about 2 1/2 or three hours. Remove from the braising liquid, and wrap it as tightly as you can in silver/aluminium/aluminum foil. Twist the ends to seal it in, and place in the fridge for a few hours - or over night. The next day the belly will have kept its shape. Cut slices - an inch so thick - and either fry them in a nob of butter in a non-stick pan until the outsides are caramelised and crispy (and the insides are incredibly tender) - about 2 minutes a side. Also you can reduce the braising liquid to a sauce, if you wanted. Or you can do the French Laundry thing of coating the slices in dijon, dipping them in bread crumbs, and then frying them. Serve with a sauce gribiche. Or with eggs for your breakfast, for that matter.

Spam - were the trotters still on the menu when you were there?

I sent the recipe this evening. If anyone else would like it, let me know. Jonathan - you have me absolutely intrigued about finding a capon now (and maybe one from Bresse!). Do you know how big they come? The best ways of dealing with them etc.? Always low heat? Do they dry out like turkeys, or are they more like chickens? Have you seen them in the UK? And what magic do they know in Bresse that was lost to the rest of the world?

Popped into Harrods today, and sidled up to the counter. The very nice gentleman showed me his selection, opening up the tupperware box, and unwrapping each truffle, and the whole of the room was immediately filled with that smell. Ah, it was beautiful. How much, I goes. 4,000, he says. A kilo - I intone? Aye, he sputters. Argh, I cough. Aye, he repeats. He pulls one out, about twice the size of a golfball. I start thinking about what sort of overdraft I can afford, without my wife noticing and attacking me in the night with a sushi knife. My hand, like a cheap Hammer House of Horror flick, starts inching towards my wallet. My prefrontal cortex hangs a sign: out to lunch. No hope for rational thought. Feel myself quickly sinking. Shortness of breath. How much, I whisper. 248 pounds, he announces chirpily. Argh, I cough. Aye, he sputters. Sigh, I sigh.

In today's Observer

Holy Cow, Jonathan - that sounds amazing. Please - long lists of adjectives, followed by a few nouns, and the odd piece of punctuation... Was it your recipe? I saw a foie gras stuffing for Capon in the Robuchon book - did you adapt it? Was it a (now infamous) Dove's Capon? And where did you get the boudin blanc (not to mention the truffles and the foie gras)? I had a starter course of butternut squash tortelli with shaved white truffles, but nothing like that capon caper. Please tell all. I'll write down that sprouts recipe.

Last year I did a Gooken - a deboned goose stuffed with a deboned chicken - and it went a long way. Also - the next day we had the leftovers for the best sheperds pie in the history of mankind. It takes a little time, but it's fun. And it frees up the bones to make jus with. Also, there's a great looking recipe in the new Fernley-Whittingstall book that makes a stuffed goose neck ballotine - I'd defenitley like to try something along those lines. Also - I was shown a really good brussel sprouts recipe (specifically for people who hate them) that is finished with pecans, maple syrup, and grapes - it sounds odd, but I've never seen a platter of sprouts emptied so quickly. It was scary. PM me if you'd like the recipe.

Sorry you haven't had any replies. I think you'll find (on this board) most American expats have a hard enough time finding a decent turkey to cook for themselves, let alone finding someone else to cook it for them. Best of luck, though. Maybe you could contact the American Embassy? I'm sure they have several thousand employees with a similar problem (which leads me to think that maybe one of the Park Lane hotels might do just that).