Hot Chocolate

I don't get excited about chocolate much, so I was fairly nonchalant when Nudge PR asked for my address to send me some chocolate during Chocolate Week, some weeks ago. A good kilo of chocolate turned up from places like Rococco, Amadei, William Curley and even Thorntons. What took my attention though was Sir Hans Sloane dark chocolate beads, to make drinking chocolate.

You add hot milk to the chocolate beads, stir like crazy to melt them and you have a smooth, deeply chocolatey drink unlike any other hot chocolate I've tried. Most on the market that I've tried are weak and thin, but not this. A good slug of brandy helps give it a bit of pep. I love hot booze.

I used two teaspoons per cup and a shot of brandy - no sugar required. It's not cheap at a whopping £10 per 300gr tin but it's a smashing treat, especially as the weather gets colder.

Bloom Gin

I was pretty excited to receive a bottle of Bloom gin from their PR people. I love gin. I especially love free gin.

But I was to be disappointed, for this is gin for people who don't really like gin. Described as an 'innovative premium London Dry gin', the bottle tells me it captures the essence of Spring, with floral notes of pomelo, honeysuckle and chamomile.

Dare I say it? It was... girly. More specifically, like a big girl's blouse. It had no discernable juniper flavour that I love so dearly, that sets gin aside from other spirits. In a gin and tonic, all you could taste was floral sweetness. I had some friends round, all gin fiends and they declared it weak in flavour. A pretty bottle but no oomph behind its contents.

No thanks.

Mamuska!

Elephant & Castle shopping centre, while a total eyesore, is quite the hub of ethnic food purveyors. Not long ago, Food Stories reported on a taco van selling incredible Mexican street food within its environs. I spotted a Latin American cafe, tables parked in front of it, with happy families slurping on meaty stews. But we weren't there for that. We came for Polish food, in the shape of Mamuska! Don't ask me what that word means, but I was pointed there by a colleague.

The menu revealed startingly good value. Split into soups and starters, pierogi and big plates, we decided to start off our Sunday afternoon with a 50ml glass of vodka for £3 each, from the freezer. Served with a gherkin, it slipped down easily, warming our frozen selves and bringing a rosy tinge back to our cheeks. With it, we ordered kompot, a home-made fruit drink. It was tinged yellow and slightly cloudy; it tasted mildly of undescernible fruit and heavily of cinnamon. I found it tough going.

We decided on sharing a plate of pierogi Mamuska, boiled parcels which were filled with smoked bacon and cabbage served with sour cream. They were comforting, the dough being lighter than it looked and the porky innards of the dumpling shone through.

A pork loin cutlet, breaded and fried was served with roughly mashed potatoes sprinkled with parsley. Salads to choose from included coleslaw or sauerkraut but we settled on beetroot and it provided a tartness and lightened the dish; I had worried that without a sauce it might be dry, but the pork proved tender and juicy.

At no more than £5 a main dish, this bar mleczny was a brilliant tip. Look beyond the ugly exterior - there within the Elephant & Castle shopping centre lives some gems.

EDIT - I have since been told that 'Mamuska' means 'mama'.

Mamuska!

First floor,
Elephant & Castle Shopping Centre,
SE1 6TE

Bubble Tea

Bubble teas are the drink of my childhood. Served in plastic cup with huge, wide straws in which to suck up the tapioca balls, bubble teas aren't always made with tea. Sometimes they're made with coffee, and sometimes with fruit juice. The most pleasing thing about them is the tapioca balls that provide texture. Smooth, cold fruit juice is interspersed with a pearl of chewy, gooey tapioca. Other ingredients are also used, often fruit or coconut jellies and sometimes red aduki beans.

The bubbles don't refer to the tapioca pearls though; they are usually blended to create them, which results in a slight froth, or bubbliness and this is where they get their name. Originating from Taiwan, they are often made with powders.

After a friend gifted me with a pack of tapioca pearls purchased in a Chinese supermarket in Dalston, I set about making a fruity version. Watermelons were going cheap down the road in Peckham, so I picked up a segment. The chunks went into the blender along with a few handfuls of ice cubes, the juice of half a lime and some sugar syrup. Blended up, it made a refreshing and thirst-quenching drink. I am only sad I didn't have a giant straw to suck the pearls up with, and had to resort to a spoon instead.

Watermelon Bubble Tea

Makes around 2 pints

1/3 of a watermelon
Juice of half a lime
2 tbsp sugar
4 tbsp water
Two big handfuls of ice cubes
A handful of tapioca pearls

In a large pan full of water, simmer the tapioca pearls for 15 - 20 minutes, until tender. Drain and divide in two, placing them in the bottom of two glasses.

In a small saucepan, simmer the 4 tbsp water with the 2 tbsp of sugar to make the sugar syrup. Simmer until the sugar has dissolved. Add to a blender with the watermelon, ice and lime and blend well.

Pour into the two glasses and serve, preferably with a humungous straw.

Tequila Tasting at Green & Red

Most of us drank some sort of dark and evil spirit when we were teenagers that made us throw up until we could throw no more and we swore to ourselves we'd never drink it again. Actually, it was more than one spirit for me, but the one that I've never been able to get over is the dread tequila.

My friend Will of the Hawksmoor fame is also a part owner at Green & Red, a Mexican bar and restaurant in Shoreditch. He, always up for a challenge, told me he could change my mind about it. At his invitation and with some trepidation, I trudged over with a tequila-loving friend in tow.

In the able hands (uhm, figuratively) of the lovely barman, Davide, he asked me what my favourite cocktail was. The martini, of course. It didn't work so well in its tequila guise. I managed a sip and and a grimace.

We got back to basics with the tastings of the different ages of tequila. Through this, I learnt that I like the aged stuff the best, the tequila that's caramel in colour, and aged in barrels for a couple of years. The blanco, the youngest of all the three ages we tried, had the strongest flavour of agave. It was my least favourite.

What I did love though were the shots of sangrita (left) and verdita (right), which you drink after each tequila. The sangrita was like a little shot of bloody mary; spicy and intensely of tomato flavour. The verdita is a blend of mint, coriander, salt and chilli and it was incredibly moreish and refreshing.

The Real Hacienda is one of the priciest tequilas there. At £60 a shot, only a few hundred bottles of it are in existence since the maker closed down. It was alright.

A selection of tacos and totopos with salsas and guacamole arrived to line the stomachs. The corn tortillas which I usually find a bit chewy and muddy-tasting were thin, light and conveyed the food to the mouth well as the juices dribbled down my hands. The prawn filling was expertly cooked, with a dice of red onion, some salsa and a few coriander leaves to liven it up. Pork and pineapple was another favourite what with it being tender and smoky. The Nopales y Queso Fresco was standout - crunchy cactus with a fresh cheese and some jalapeno. It was nothing like the rubbery, bouncy salt slabs of queso fresco I suffered in Nicaragua.

We ended with probably the only drink I'd order happily again, and it was this watermelon margerita. Fresh watermelon smashed up with plenty ice, it belied the merest hint of agave.

So while I haven't been swayed towards the so-called merits of tequila, I've fallen in love with verdita and sangrita. I'd drink tequila just for them. And the next time I'm back, I'll be exploring that menu more extensively.

Green & Red

51 Bethnal Green Road
London E1 6LA

Tel: 0207 749 9670

Bob Bob Ricard

After a brief exchange on Twitter and a profession of love for lard, I was invited to a vintage vodka tasting at Bob Bob Ricard. I was excited and the date loomed near. Excitement turned to trepidation when reports of a previous tasting from fellow comrades came trickling in. Blurry memories, amazing dumplings and a bit of sick were at the forefront. I readied myself for a messy night.

Much has been spoken of Bob Bob Ricard. Its funny name, its 'Press Here' for Champagne buttons but on arrival, I was blown away by the decadence of the place. It was the definition of glitzy and was sumptious as anything. Led to the private dining room, I was instructed to sit next to our host and we sipped on gorgeously candy pink rhubarb and gin cocktails.

After a quick introduction from Leonid (aka. Bob, coined by his business partner who found it tricky to pronounce Leonid), we got stuck in. A mouthful of ox tongue in aspic smeared with some horseradish cream was speared onto forks. Kauffman Special Selected Vintage 2006 was poured into cute little crystal glasses, and we were instructed to chuck it down the hatch and follow immediately with the food. Given I'm usually one to hold my nose when drinking shots, this slid down unexpectedly easily. The aspic was completely clear yet meaty, the flavours of the ox tongue well defined, sharpened and rounded off with the horseradish cream. Meanwhile, I quizzed Leonid about Russian life. I want to party in Moscow.

The next Kauffman, the Private Collection Luxury Vintage 2003 was a accompanied by caviar, blinis and sour cream. We were instructed to pile half the tin of caviar on the blinis, and we followed instruction duly. The blinis were warm and fluffy, like biting into a edible pillow. Again, the Kauffman was stand out for it's lack of flavour (a good thing in vodka) and smoothness.

Next came an intermission of starters to share for the table. Beetroot and goats cheese renewed my faith in the pairing - crisp discs of raw beetroot gave way to creamy light goats cheese. A pile of minted crushed broadbeans topped with pea shoots gave the dish a summery tone. Potted shrimp and anchovy was heart-stoppingly buttery, while gently smoked fillet of beef had the unusual but ultimately well balanced garnishes of blueberries and hazelnuts. Foie gras and rabbit terrine studded with dates was appropriately rich and velvety.

My favourite dish and combination of the night was the Russian salt-cured herring with raw onions and new potato. We were instructed to neck the Russian Standard Platinum vodka, then to eat the herring with the onion followed by the potato. As Leonid rightly told us, the salty fish was tartened by the onion, and then neutralised by the potato. The vodka was smooth, flavour-free and went down easily. The cheeky Dan asked for seconds, and Leonid looked doubtful. "I don't want you to go the wrong way like the others did". We reassured him otherwise and got stuck in.

Next, we faced an onslaught of quails eggs. They were stuffed with salmon roe, served with Imperia by Russian Standard. I'd have never thought fish eggs would work with quails eggs, but work they did and the salmon roe popped pleasingly in the mouth. Next up, quails egg mayonnaise, topped with a sliver of anchovy accompanied Beluga Vodka. The tasting notes describe this as having a hint of winter wheat, but I was still dazzled by the Russian Standard to take any notice.

Meat pelmeni reminded me of the Chinese Xiao Long Bao. Meaty dumplings surrounded by broth were encased in a thin yet chewy dough. Saucers of sour cream or white vinegar were for dipping and smearing, and they were good and hearty. We stopped our lovely and attentive waiter from taking them away to make room for the next dish, greedily shovelling any stragglers into our mouths.

Salo on rye bread, a fatty, cured pork was what prompted my declaration of piggy love, and the reason I was invited. Wafer thin, the pork fat melted on the tongue, but didn't detract from the fact that the Stolichnaya Gold vodka, so highly revered in London's clubs, felt as rough as a badger's arse. 'Twice distilled', a quality so highly prized is actually laughable; many of Russia's vodkas are distilled at least eight times.

When all this was over, we were treated to an immense beef wellington, much shinier and more bronzed than mine have ever turned out, in a final effort to soak up the booze and make sure we were compus mentus for work the next day. Desserts were ingested and the evening drew to a close. There was much discussion about the merits of vodka, since the whole point of the stuff is not to taste anything, unlike wine, which is all about the nose and the flavour. I don't think the two are comparable; they come from such different cultures and are enjoyed in such different ways. I have to say, I loved the Russian way and I have renewed respect for vodka, especially as my favourite is around £15 a bottle. A quick, smooth glug to spike the bloodstream with alcohol, and a delicious morsel in the mouth - what's not to love?

Bob Bob Ricard

1-3 Upper James Street

London W1F 9DF

Tel: 020 3145 1000

Gin Love - Miller's

I've walked into mysterious non-descript doorways more times than I'd care to admit, but none pleased me as much as the sight that greeted me when I walked through this one. It was the entrance to Miller's Residence for Martin Miller's Gin Masterclass for the Gintelligentsia (try saying that after a couple...). I had been invited to the event by Craig Harper, the brand's ambassador, after declaring my love of this particular gin on Twitter. The hallway, painted in a brave bright azure blue, was covered in paintings. As we walked up the red carpeted stairs, I noticed trays and piles of sweets everywhere. There was always something to look at and I instantly fell in love with the place.

Martin Miller (above) himself briefly welcomed us, and armed with a martini each, we took our places to be educated of the ways of this cocktail by Craig, who turned out to be an enigmatic and engaging host.

I've always been a bit afraid of martinis, mainly because they're so strong and the ones I'd drunk had that horrible booze burn that can almost make you retch. There is also the fear of getting roaring drunk after a couple of sips. However, a martini made for me by Essex Eating at The Blaggers' Banquet back in November changed my mind entirely. Rather than that familiar burn, these slid down smoothly. I still got completely shit-faced, so I was right to be afraid in one respect.

After a brief history on cocktails - my favourite factoid being that back in the day cocktails were drunk in the morning to steady oneself from a heavy night before - we started off with one of the original martinis, the Martinez from 1884. Us members of the audience were singled out to make the drinks and like the proper Brits we are, we all looked in any direction to avoid it. It was sweet tasting, unsurprisingly given that it was 1:1 gin to sweet Italian vermouth. In contrast, the dry martini (1903) was heavily scented with citrus. Perhaps predictably, my favourite of the evening was Harry's Dry Martini (1922), shaken by my good self. Craig dispelled myths of shaking a martini to be seen as "bruising" the gin, but instead explained the science behind the slight cloudy appearance of the drink, caused by aerating the liquid.

The revelation of the night was the Super Dry Martini Doble from 1951. Made with 2 parts gin to 1 part Noilly Prat dry and flavoured with absinthe, orange bitters and a lemon twist, it reminded me of childrens' toothpaste. In a good way. I've always associated absinthe with That Terrible Night but having learnt that absinthe can be used to flavour a drink rather than having to endure it in one horrible shot or long drink, this is now the only way it'll pass my lips.

To finish, we had a good ol' chat about gin over delicious gin and tonics, happily served with wedges of lime instead of the dreaded lemon. Little vials of aromatics that flavour Miller's, such as angelica and orris root were sniffed (or inadvertently snorted, in my case - ugh) and just like that, 90 minutes had flown by and the hotel had to be returned to its guests.

Armed with a goody bag that contained a whole big bottle of Miller's and a glossy book about the brand, we repaired to the rather snazzy pub over the road for more gin and to slurp some oysters. I went home an extremely happy girl that night, debunking rumours that gin makes girls cry. It doesn't.

If you like gin (and why wouldn't you?) and want to do this too, tickets are ridiculously good value at £10. Email masterclass@martinmillersgin.com for details.

For more grainy, dark and slightly out of focus pictures of the evening - I refuse to annoy people with a flash - click HERE.

In a Drunken State

I was recently invited to a press and bloggers' brunch to preview Towards A Fluid State. It was organised by Angela Newell and Hayley Sudbury, the duo that make up The Tasting Sessions - "curators when it comes to social lubrication"- it promised to be a boozy and fun affair. Boozy and fun I like.

So one Saturday morning not so long ago, I made my way to Broadway Market. Hackney isn't an area I frequent very often, and anticipating getting lost, I was infact almost an hour early. No matter; Broadway Market was bustling in the crisp autumn sunshine, and I busied myself with a banh mi, a delicious Vietnamese baguette washed down with some rocket fuel coffee. When the time came, I headed for the venue. Upon entry, I was handed a test tube of clear liquid. I was warned not to shot it, and I wondered if my reputation preceeded me. The liquid was infact 80% proof and had a strong flavour of mustard. When mixed into the Bloody Mary I was given, it made for a great drink.

We whizzed through a few tastings; biodynamic Champagne paired a vegan canape, a couple of whiskeys paired with cheese. Gin cocktails came with a bit of molecular gastronomy - spheres of fruity cocktail dissolved in the mouth. A couple of 'geishas' arrived to herald the tasting of an earthy sake made from brown rice.


Next up, a troop of black caped people came in, carrying black balloons and gave us pins. I could see what the end point was going to be, but I was nervous. I am not a fan of needles and everywhere I looked people were brandishing them. On the count of three we were ordered to puncture the balloons, and a sweet, vanilla-scented aroma filled the room, one apparently found in Couvoisier. After a tasting of this and a quick munch of some Bompas & Parr Courvoisier flavoured jellies, we were then given a breakdown of what we had consumed and promptly told to eat it. Rice paper menus.

We ended the two hour stint with a tasting of a very exclusive Courvoisier, poured by an impossibly glamourous, white-gloved representative of the company.

We stumbled out into the blinding daylight, headed for the pub across the road to digest our brunch over a few pints. I didn't really know what to expect from the afternoon, but if this preview is anything to go by then I would suggest getting tickets to the actual event at a Dalston warehouse on the 5th December quick snap. Slightly surreal, informative and lots of fun.

http://towardsafluidstate.com/
Tickets from £16.50.

Just in case you think I've suddenly acquired some snazzy camera skills, sadly this is not true. Photos are from The Tasting Sessions and the full set can be viewed here.

Whitley Neill Gin - My Favourite Cocktail

I love gin. Gin is my favourite spirit; it's great with ice cold tonic and a big fat wedge of lime. I never used to like it when I was younger, especially when everyone said it makes you cry and it has a bad reputation for being 'Mother's Ruin'. A holiday in Goa changed all that; fresh lime juice, soda, a little sugar and a shot of gin converted me nicely. On occasion, I have been known to drink gin n' juice (of the orange kind, or sometimes even pineapple). So it was with great excitement that I attended the Whitley Neill 'Top of the Tree' Challenge bar crawl, to taste the original cocktails in four different bars, created with Whitley Neill gin.

Whitley Neill is made in England and inspired by Africa. At the event, I met Johnny Neill who started the company. He told me that this gin is made with nine different botanicals, two specifically from Africa to make a warmly spiced gin. What's more, a part of the profits is donated to Tree Aid; even more of a reason to drink it.

We started off at the Lobby Bar at One Aldwych and kicked off with a cocktail called 'Africa', spiced with star anise and cinnamon. I'm not a great fan of cinnamon, but the Amaretto that was also in the drink mellowed it out somewhat. The bar snacks at the Lobby Bar were gorgeous; crystallised physalis, of which I haven't eaten before, bursted in the mouth through the initial hard sugar coating. We also had some huge, buttery and luridly green olives that got exclaimations of deliciousness. I wanted to eat them all.

With four bars in total and many cocktails to sample, we moved through each one fairly quickly, but not so that we were rushed. The definite highlight for me was a cocktail pictured above, called 'Passing Thyme'. We had it at a bar called Bureau in Kingly Street; as we all traipsed in we inadvertently gate-crashed Labour MP Diane Abbott giving a speech about Barack Obama winning the election. Rather surreal!

Here is the recipe:

Cocktail: Passing Thyme

Bar: Bureau

Bartender: Lewis Wilkinson

50ml Whitley Neill

3 x sprigs fresh Thyme
20ml lemon juice
15ml sugar syrup
2 dash of peach bitters
Top with soda

Glass: Collins.

Muddle, shake, strain, top with soda. Garnish with lemon wedge and thyme sprigs.

This cocktail was great. I've had a thyme sorbet before and thought it worked really well, perhaps better than in savoury dishes. The peach bitters really complemented the gin and made for a very refreshing drink and I did comment that it was perhaps the only one I could have had more than one of so far.

So there it was, my new favourite cocktail. Other bloggers were invited and have written up about it (with better photos than mine): Niamh, Helen, Chris, Tim, Melanie, tikichris, Annie, and Life On The Edge. Tikichris especially has a good set of photos of all the cocktails on Flickr, here.

Chrysanthemum Tea

When I was a child my mum used to brew us various concoctions; some were foul, others just bearable. One brew she made which I actually liked enough to drink happily is chrysanthemum tea. Whenever we ate too many fried foods or we got spots, the chrysanthemum tea would be made. It is regarded as a 'cooling' and detoxification herb, and is recommended for heat-related illnesses such as sore throats and fevers. It's also reported to treat influenza and colds. Now I'm not sure if I've mentioned it, but I've been struck down with the common cold...

You can buy dried chrysanthemum flowers from Chinese supermarkets. I added them to boiling water, and then simmered them for 15 minutes. Once strained, I added some rock sugar to taste. Once cooled, it makes for a very refreshing drink.