Pizza Pilgrims at Berwick Street Market

In the interests of full disclosure and all that, I should state that one third of the Pizza Pilgrims (Thom) is a friend and we worked together. When I heard he was leaving the company to start a pizza van I was full of admiration (and, I'll admit, a little envy). I watched their Twitter stream and their Facebook status updates as well as YouTube videos as they made their way around Italy, learning to make pizza from the masters and picking up their Piaggio Ape van that was to house their pizza oven.

I think I've managed to remain unbiased though and you should really believe me when I say their pizza is indeed excellent. But given my previous disclaimer you may not, but it'll only cost you £6 to find out. The pizza I had was dotted with 'Nduja, a spicy spreadable sausage much like the Spanish chorizo. From Calabria, it is typically made with fatty parts of pork shoulder. Dotted sparsely on the pizza, its oils flavoured the dough well and leaves a lingering kick on the palate.

The dough was rolled thin and cooked until the crusts puffed and the insides stayed soft and pliable. On the day we visited on their first week, it took around 10 minutes from placing my order and receiving my pizza. I watched with fascination at the pizza oven built into their tiny van. I ate it then and there in the sunshine, melty cheese strands dangling out of my mouth and a small glob of basil-scented tomato sauce on my chin.

They are there Monday - Friday lunchtimes.

New York - December Edition - Not So Cheap

As much as I loved all the cheaper places we visited, leisurely dinners meant coughing up a bit more. My favourite of the trip goes to Schiller's Liquor Bar. Located on the Lower East Side, the room is white tiled, darkly lit and bustling. The bar area was filled with people perched on high stools sipping on beers and we were seated at one of the last tables for two left.

I loved how unpretentious it was; the wine list was simply presented as 3 options; 'cheap', 'decent' and 'good'. When our bottle arrived, CHEAP was plastered across it. I'm not a wine buff in any way, shape or form and our bottle was drinkable and tasted good.

East Coast and West Coast oysters were sweeter with more mineral flavour than ones from our own shores. Crab and articoke dip with melba toast was decadently creamy and rich, though I'd have preferred a little more crab flavour. A seared tuna Nicoise salad (what was I thinking!?) was horrendously overshadowed by The Boy's 'pork chops and roasted potatoes'. What was presented to him was a behemoth plate with two chops and a pile of roasted potatoes, just as advertised. They were cooked in the most delicious caramelised onion, ginger and garlicky sauce. I almost cried with envy.

With a couple of well made cocktails and well deserved tip for our affable and charming waiter, the bill came to around £50 / head.



I was a fan of David Chang since I went to Momofuku Noodle Bar on my first visit. Since then I've become an even bigger fan, having bought his cookbook and the quarterly magazine he's a part of, Lucky Peach. We managed to nab two seats at the bar at Momofuku Ssam early on new year's eve.

I'd have liked to try more of the raw dishes but they were quite pricy, so we settled on one - diver scallops with yuba (tofu skin), satsuma and coriander. The smears were intensely orange flavoured and worked well with the sweet, delicate shellfish. Yuba doesn't taste of much but had a tender texture, much like the skin you get on top of gravy. It sounds rank but it was a great texture contrast to the scallop.

The pork buns, which Momofuku is famous for were pretty damn sexy. Pillowy steamed buns were stuffed with a slab of fatty warm pork belly, with a smear of hoisin sauce and sliced cucumbers. It took everything in my power to refrain from cancelling the other dishes and ordering another seven of these instead.

Fuji apple kimchi with bacon and maple mayo was incredible; rather than the apples being fermented with garlic and chilli over a length of time, the apples were crisp and fresh, having been dressed in kimchi juice instead. The bacon was really smoky and coupled with the maple mayo it was perfect.

Market greens came in the form of swiss chard, cooked in XO sauce and topped with a heap of fried shallots. Cooked until the stalks were al dente and the leaves just wilted, the intense savoury flavour of the XO sauce was thankfully sparing; any more and it would have been overwhelming.

Spicy sausage with fried rice cakes and Sichuan pepper was my least favourite dish of the meal. Although the rice cakes had a great texture, both gooey and crispy from frying, after a while it began to all get a bit samey with each bite. Too stuffed for dessert and with a party to get over to, we decided against desserts. With a couple of cocktails each, our bill again reached around £50 / head.



After an afternoon of ice skating, we were ravenous. The temperature on our last night was around -5 C; I don't think I've been anywhere that cold. The streets of New York were windy, and as we rushed towards Locanda Verde in TriBeCa I had everything crossed that we wouldn't have to wait long.

The place is cavernous, dark - this is a recurring theme - but lively. Families dined with small children, couples were having intimate dinners and groups of friends were sharing plates. A long L-shaped bar was absolutely rammed, both with people having drinks waiting for a table as well as people eating at the bar. A mere half hour wait while nursing a Negroni was all it took before we were seated.

A tuna crostini with smoked cannellini beans and a hint of lemon was perfunctory enough to keep the hunger at bay. Proscuitto lent smokiness to the prawns they were wrapping, doused in romesco sauce and it was dotted with creamy white beans to give some heartiness to the dish.

Marinated beet salad was a textbook example. Tender beetroot was topped with slices of fennel and happily they didn't go for the obvious goats cheese, but instead smoked ricotta. Some welcome crunch was provided from the pistachio garnish, with a smear of pistachio puree hiding under the beets.

We had a lot of trouble trying to decide on mains, but we were pleased with our spiced duck choice. Huge slabs of flush pink breast arrived, garnished with pomegranate seeds, small faro grains and cavolo nero. The skin was crisp with sweetness with a hint of the exotic, and the meat as tender as butter. A side dish of roasted brussel sprouts was a hearty affair; strong mustard flavours with the slightly bitter brassica was reinforced further with chunks of pecorino and pancetta. It was the unheathiest vegetable side I've laid eyes on in recent times. Obviously I thought it was great.

Orecchiette was served with beans and fennel sausage and a hard strong cheese grated on top. These were gutsy flavours and the little ears held them well. With the beans and pasta combined, it was great comfort food. But good lord we were stuffed afterwards.

A pear, quince and cranberry crisp with vanilla bourbon ice cream sounds quite light and insubstantial, right? That's what we thought when we ordered it to share. A deep ramekin arrived with the aforementioned fruits in a crumble. Crisp, it turns out, is a crumble. Oof. We managed to polish it all off due to its own deliciousness caused by nuts being incorporated into the crumble topping, but I was rendered incapacitated after the meal and could only lie down and make small groaning noises.

Locanda Verde reminded me a lot of Polpo both in atmosphere and food; unsurprising really, as the recommendation to go there came from Russell Norman. Locanda Verde is a touch more expensive though, we hit £60 a head with a bottle of wine.



Now I shall be nibbling on dry bread and lentils until my bank balance recovers.

New York - December Edition - On the Cheap

I'm a bit of a lucky cow really; I've just spent five days in New York, my third visit of the year. This time the focus was heavily on cheap and casual with a couple of blow-outs sprinkled here and there. We brunched more too; breakfast is entirely out of the question due to being an extremely lazy person, but 11am is a manageable time.

We attempted to go to well-known brunch spot on a Saturday morning and we were greeted with about 25 people milling about outside. Waiting times can be up to 2 hours so we sacked it off and headed instead for Diner, over the river in Williamsburg. In what looked like a disused train carriage the place was packed to the rafters with cool kids sipping on bloody marys. Within 10 minutes we were seated and a delicious dish of scrambled eggs with a biscuit (aka. a savoury scone) topped with pork gravy (aka. white sauce with bits of sausage in it) ($12) kept me going till dinnertime.


We didn't give up on Clinton Street Baking Company though and came back on a weekday, as several people had proclaimed theirs to be The Best pancakes in New York. We patiently waited outside for half an hour, while my still-damp hair turned crispy with frost. We were seated snugly inside and a mountain of sugar-cured bacon, eggs with fried green tomatoes and cheesy grits ($13) warmed me up. The show stopper was indeed the wild Maine blueberry pancakes, served with a warm maple butter ($12). Sweet mother of God these were good, and worth the freezing wait we endured. Warm and fluffy inside, slightly crisp edges, punctuated with blueberries within and a mound of them on top, the maple butter drenching into the pancakes was... just... uuuunnngggg. I have no words. I need a moment alone with this memory.



Seemingly my beloved can exist on merely two meals a day - the horror - so one evening I went foraging for a snack on my own. Just a block away I came across a branch of Xi'an Famous Foods, heartily recommended by many. On St Marks Place, it was tiny; two benches faced the wall, which was plastered with the laminated menu and pictures of the dishes. As I was merely snacking, I went for Chang-an Spicy Tofu ($2) and Liang Pi Cold Skin Noodles ($4.50). Within 5 minutes I was out of there, clutching my takeaway bag.

It was pretty huge for my supposed snack and goddamn it was delicious. Slippery soft, delicate tofu was bathed in a savoury, sour broth tinged with ginger and garlic and with a slick of fiery red chilli oil. Cold skin noodles (here's an interesting Wikipedia article on how they're made) made your lips go numb with Sichuan peppercorns, while the soft pliable noodles stained all and sundry with the dressing they were doused in. I absolutely honked of garlic afterwards but I immediately wanted to go back to try everything else with another serving of tofu on the side. Alas, I ran out of time.



Later that evening, we hit Corner Bistro, reputedly New York's best burger. Famed for its queues, we arrived late and got lucky; seated in 5 minutes. The burger, loosely packed and cooked as requested, came with rashers of crispy bacon and perhaps a touch more raw onion in a huge hoop than I'd have liked, but was really very good. Pickles on the side and fries that were just like McDonalds' - which is a good thing - made me a fan. At $8-ish for the Bistro burger it was insanely good value. Value aside though, Minetta Tavern's effort pips it to the post for me.



Revelation of the trip goes to Otafuku, purveyors of takoyaki. Takoyaki are balls of batter studded with cooked octopus. I'll admit it doesn't sound particularly appealing, but when I went there to yet again another hole-in-the-wall place with barely standing room for more than 3 people and no seating, I was transfixed by a huge metal pan with spherical molds, takoyaki cooking merrily inside. You'll have the excuse the photo. I am resolutely right handed and trying to wield chopsticks and take a picture while supressing the urge to stuff them in my gob was just too much.

These reminded me of a Japanese version of Jose's ham croquetas. Crisp on the outside and light and moussey inside, these are drizzled with takoyaki sauce (whatever that might be), mayonnaise and topped with a dusting of seaweed and shavings of dried bonito. $5 for 5 I think, and after I'd finished, I only wanted more and more.



Often regarded as one of the best makers of ramen, Ippudo has a legendary reputation for enormous queues and long waiting times, all for a bowl of noodles in broth. People get seriously passionate about ramen, and while I'm only just delving into this world I am fully in love with the stuff. Which might explain why I was outside Ippudo on a Tuesday morning at 10:45am, 7th in the queue, waiting for the 11am opening time. Once inside, the space reminds me of a Busaba Eathai. Seated communally, the din is incredible. Every time someone walks in, all the staff shout a greeting in Japanese to the mostly young Asian crowd. I was in and out in 30 minutes and by the time I left, pop music was pumping and the poor hapless sod opposite me was still trying to shout business down his mobile phone, with laptop out.

The lunch deal includes any ramen plus a rice with topping and side salad for merely $3 extra. I chose the grilled eel with rice, a surprisingly generous portion. The fish was soft and tender, the rice well cooked.

The curious side of me wanted to choose their 'special' which included Parmesan cheese but I knew I'd cry if I didn't like it, so I stuck to Akamaru Modern ($14). The Tonkotsu broth is topped with miso paste, pork chashu (which is simmered pork belly, unlike the Chinese char siu), scallions and fragrant garlic oil. A soy marinated soft boiled egg (nitamago) as an extra ($2) completed the bowl. The broth was deeply porky with a hint of sweetness from the reddish miso being stirred in. This was a seriously satisfying bowl, though I'd have liked the ramen noodles a bit thicker, a bit springier. Can we have an Ippudo in London please?



New York is famous for their bagels and one morning - fine, fine, afternoon - we headed up to David's Bagels. As we joined the queue we were greeted with a stunning array of bagel types so it only made sense to go for the Everything bagel. Studded with poppy seeds, sesame, onion flavourings and the like, it was served warm filled with lox and cream cheese ($8.50). It was stunning, really, like no other bagel I've had. Soft but not pappy, it held the filling well and was a far cry from those hard dry things we get in London. Pastrami and pickle-filled bagel ($6) was equally good. I suspect it's not even the best ever, but then I don't know much about them; we were nearby, hungry and it made me happy.

273 First Avenue (1st Ave. between E 15th St. & E 16th St.)

Since my first visit when I went to Torrisi Italian Specialities, things have changed and they have opened Parm, a more casual sandwich shop next door, devoting the main place to a more restaurant-like environment. I propped myself up at the bar and had an eggplant parm, served in a sweet semolina roll. I was still reeling from my ramen brunch, otherwise I'd have gone fully for the hero, a far larger affair. With slices of soft, juicy aubergine coated in gooey cheese, tomatoey sauce and sandwiched with basil leaves, the roll was perhaps a little oversweet to my liking but otherwise it was excellent, particularly for an aubergine obsessive. The Boy, a New York resident, has been addicted to the meatball parm for many weeks now and expressed disbelief at my choice. I am beginning to wonder about it myself. At $8 its not a cheap every day lunch but it makes a happy lunch.



So there ends the cheap eats. Are you still with me?

Minestrone alla Genovese

Soup season is upon us. London has been a resolutely slate-grey monochrome for the past few days and my breath comes out in foggy clouds, reminding me of those cigarettes I so loved, now given up. Soup can be terribly boring though; those uniformly smooth one-dimensional bore-fests are enough to have you in a right depression. Add some texture though and the bowl is transformed.

Minestrone is a typical Italian soup; I'm most used to it being very tomato-heavy, almost like a thick chunky stew. It is mostly made of whatever vegetables are in season though much of its flavour comes from the broth it is cooked in.

This particular recipe omits to tomatoes, favouring instead the clean pure broth from simmered pork bones and aromatics. Vegetables are added for a brief cooking so that they still retain a bit of bite, though my beloved cavolo nero are given a long, slow cooking for ultimate silkiness. Cannellini beans and ditaloni pasta bulk the soup out and thicken it ever so slightly. I couldn't help but add a hefty tablespoon of a roughly bashed pesto, that heady aniseed from the basil and salty pecorino adding another layer of flavour and a Ligurian twist.

Minestrone alla Genovese

Serves 4

1 large pork shank
4 carrots
4 stalks of celery
1 onion
2 bay leaves
150gr dried cannellini or borlotti beans soaked overnight
200gr ditaloni (I bought this at the Turkish Food Centre) or any other soup pasta, or even rice
1 large courgette
4 stalks of cavolo nero
3 cloves of garlic
1 head of fennel

For the pesto:

A handful of basil leaves
Half that of parsley
A couple table spoons of extra virgin olive oil
50gr of pecorino
Salt & pepper

Boil the beans in plain water for 10 minutes, then drain. To make the broth, blanch the pork shank in boiling water for 5 - 10 minutes, then rinse and wash the pot out thoroughly. Add to fresh pot of water to cover the shank and add the onion, quartered with the bay leaves, 2 of the carrots and 2 stalks of celery. Add the beans in. Dice the rest of the carrots and celery and set aside.

Simmer for 4 or so hours.

Your beans should be nice and tender by now. Fish out the onion, carrots and celery and bay leaves and discard. Strip the fat and skin off the shank and discard. Strip the meat off and chop roughly, discard the bones. Divide the pork meat into four bowls. In another pan, heath a little oil and add the garlic, minced. Add the fennel, roughly chopped with plenty of salt, and when tender add the broth and beans back in. Simmer the broth and beans with the cavolo nero for 10 minutes, then add the reserved diced celery and carrot. Dice the courgette and add this in with the ditaloni. Simmer for a further 10 or so minutes until it is all tender and take off the heat.

To make the pesto, chop basil and parsley finely. Mix well with the olive oil, then grate the cheese finely and add this in to make a rough sauce. Season to taste.

Divide the soup between bowls and top with the pesto.

Street Food in London - Hot Dogs, Tacos & Meatballs

The street food scene is kicking off with fervour. Gone are the days of dodgy hot dog carts wafting of fried onions selling their questionable fare to pissed up Londoners swaying towards night buses. Instead, tacos, hot dogs, burgers, noodle soups, paella, bits of offal and much more are on offer.

Petra Barran of Choc Star fame has headed up a collective, under the name of Eat.St and they now have a permanent residency in Kings Cross. Open Wednesdays to Fridays, 4 to 6 traders a day, 10am - 4pm every week, I snuck in a visit while in the area.

The Rib Man's £5 rib sandwich consists of baby back ribs slow smoked and roasted. The meat is then shredded off the bone and shoved into a white bap, for you to adorn with whichever sauce takes your fancy. I went with a fruity, Scotch-bonnety firebomb called 'holy fuck hot sauce'. Sweet Jesus this sandwich is good.

On the same lunchtime I had a Junior dog from Big Apple Hot Dogs; for £2.50 this was quite a bargain. The sausage had that great crunchy skin, the kind that snaps between the teeth as you bite into it. Polish mustard and sauerkraut complemented it nicely; now I know why people rave about them. I also love their 'no brains, no bones, no butts' line on their website. I'm going for the Big Frank next time.

Buen Provecho are also part of Eat.St but my only visit was when they were outside The Rye pub, now closed for refurbishment, in Peckham. I am a bit wary of tacos as I don't like corn tortillas much - look, they just taste a bit muddy, ok? - but Buen Provecho's were different to any other I've had. The tortilla is nicely toasted; crisp in places, soft in others. Soft, silky meat topped with crunchy salads and salsas, I haven't had any better. (Photo courtesy of Cheese & Biscuits.)

My most recent visit was to Luca Italian Meatballs in Ridley Road Market. Not yet part of Eat.St but brought to my attention by Sandwichist, as soon as I saw that article I had to have it.

Ridley Road Market isn't a pretty one. Proper East End stuff with ferocious elderly ladies elbowing you out of the way for the best veg-in-a-bowl-for-a-paaaahnd, I had my ankles rammed several times by wheelie shopping trollies. I traversed the length of the market before I found my bounty; as soon as I saw that the meatballs were on offer with polenta, memories of the sandwich flew out of my mind. I love polenta.

For £4 you get three meatballs (meat or veggie), a carpet of polenta and a choice of sauces which I was told you could mix. I went for a spicy tomato sauce and a creamy mushroom sauce, which was then topped with little tiny asparagus and black olives, as well as a tangle of peppery rocket (I had eaten most of it by the time I took the above pic).

The meatballs were great too; fluffy inside and spiked with cheese. This was utterly delicious; total comfort food on a slate-grey blustery day. Available Thurs - Saturday lunchtimes.

I'm looking forward to eating my way round London's streets; Anna Mae's Southern Street Food , Kimchi Cult and Tongue N' Cheek are high on my list.

Mussel Conchiglie

I was first alerted to this pasta recipe from @patrickji - this mussel pasta is from The River Cafe Two Easy cookbook. As soon as I saw it I knew I had to have it. The pasta looked silky and comforting, which is my kind of dish.

Instead of ditaloni, a small tube shape said to be the same size as the small, sweet mussels, I used conchiglie instead. The name, meaning 'shell' in Italian made perfect sense to use them with the mussels; there's something quite satisfying in removing the mussels from their proper shells to be but back in with some edible ones.

Though a fairly time-consuming recipe, it's definitely a keeper. Despite the cream, it tastes light and fresh but luxurious too. The shells are very good at scooping up the sauce and hiding mussels within them. Of course I had to put my own spin on it and add some lemon zest for some citrus flavour that I find essential with seafood.

Mussel Conchiglie

Serves 3 (the River Cafe recipe says 4 but 2 of us finished it and were slightly stuffed, so I've compromised at 3)

320gr conchiglie
1 kg mussels
2 cloves of garlic
200gr butter
170ml double cream
120ml white wine
1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
4 tbsp flatleaf parsley, chopped finely
1 tsp lemon juice

Scrub and debeard the mussels. Discard any with a cracked shell, or if they're open and they don't close with a firm tap. Chop the garlic finely and add half the butter to a large pan with the olive oil. Once frothing, add the garlic, mussels and the white wine and cook with a lid on, high heat, until all the mussels open - a few minutes.

Take off the heat and strain, reserving the mussel juices. Pick the mussels from their shells and discard the shells.

Meanwhile, put a pan of water on to boil for the pasta. Cook until just under al dente.
Add the cream to the mussel juices with the other half of the butter and simmer to reduce. Once the pasta is done, drain well reserving a couple tablespoons of the pasta water. Add the pasta to the cream mixture and cook for a further couple of minutes until the pasta is just done, then add in the lemon juice and mussels. Stir a few times for the mussels to warm in the sauce, then add the parsley and take off the heat. Season and serve.

Baccalà Mantecato

Polpetto have had a menu change and when my friend Helen and I went to try it out, we were particularly taken by the mysterious 'baccala mantecato'. Upon further query it turned out to be salt cod, whipped up into a spread and gobsmackingly good. So smooth and creamy it was that I could have sworn it had some potato in, but part-owner Russell Norman told us no, it just requires emulsifying the cod with oil to make a smooth paste; labour-intensive but ultimately worth it.. Though an Italian dish, a holiday in Spain was looming and we'd found salt cod there before, so we began our plan of recreating it.

Our recreation went well - ready-soaked salt cod was simmered briefly and then the hard work came in. To a pestle and mortar we added garlic and parsley and then we pounded the life out of the cod, drizzling oil in slowly and finishing with milk to loosen its texture and give it some body. Though our version was a little more rustic (and green), it had a great texture and was gorgeous smeared on some bread.

Baccalà Mantecato

250gr salt cod, rehydrated. I think this involves a lot of soaking and changing of water over several days - we bought ours already soaked.
A pinch of salt - the salt cod once soaked isn't super salty
1 fat clove of garlic
A handful of parsley
2 tbsp milk
A squeeze of lemon juice
Around 100mls light olive oil, not extra virgin

Simmer the cod in water for 5 minutes, then leave to cool. While warm, break into pieces as small as possible.

In a mortar and pestle, pound the garlic and parsley into a paste. Add the cod and mix vigorously. Roll back your sleeves and get pounding and smooshing as someone else dribbles the oil in, until you get a thick, smooth paste. It needs quite a bit of oil. Loosen with the milk - add on tbsp at a time until it is incorporated - if you feel it's necessary. Serve with toasted bread.

Smoked Salmon & Courgette Pasta

I'm a bit of a pasta monster. Whenever I see unusual shapes that I haven't tried before, I gravitate towards the package like a zombie and immediately it goes into my basket. There is no stopping me, not even my over-stuffed pasta cupboard that rains macaroni down on you every time you open the door. This goes a long way to explaining why when I came back from a trip to Italy, the only souvenirs I brought back were two types of pasta. So apologies, I have no idea where to buy this shape in London; perhaps a big posh food hall? If you see it, pick it up.

Called Reginette Napoletane on the box, they are much liked a ridged pappardelle. Robust yet slippery, the ridges held the sauce of this green smoked salmon pasta sauce well. It is said that this pasta shape was dedicated to the Neapolitan Princess Mafalda of Savoy and was subsequently called Reginette (for 'little queen') or also called Mafaldine. The ribbons of ridged pasta are made to resemble lace worn on the robes of a queen.

I often make this pasta sauce when I'm in need of quick comfort food. The sauce takes as long as the pasta takes to cook which is pretty perfect for week nights returning late home from work. The courgette doesn't add much, flavour-wise - do they ever? - but they turn the sauce a pretty green colour. It's a rich but satisfying bowl, and if you can't find Mafaldine use a noodle shape like spaghetti.

Smoked Salmon & Courgette Pasta

Serves 1

130gr pasta (or less, if your nickname isn't Tubbs)
1 small courgette
2 spring onions - sliced
A handful of dill
2 cloves of garlic - minced
Half a lemon
150mls double cream
50gr smoked salmon (I use half a pack of basics smoked salmon trimmings from Sainsburys)

Set the pasta water on to boil - when it boils, add the pasta and cook till al dente. Meanwhile, grate the courgette and squeeze out all the water. In a pan, heat some oil and fry the courgette on a medium-high heat until softened. Zest the half lemon and add this in. Add the garlic and half the spring onion and cook for a further 5 mins. Add the cream and cook on the lowest heat. Chop the dill finely.

When the pasta is cooked, reserve a few tablespoons of the cooking water. Drain the pasta and add to the cream mixture tossing well with the pasta water. Add the dill and the juice of the lemon, and finally stir in the smoked salmon. Finish with salt to taste and lots of black pepper.

Crab & Samphire Trofie

Aside from a couple extra kilos from having too much fun, the only thing I brought back from our trip to Puglia was a box of trofie. It's not even typical to the Puglia region, but it looked interesting so I bought it anyway. The small, wormy spirals are typically eaten with pesto but I thought that a bit boring, so it was stashed away until I could think of something better to do with it.



Turns out I didn't have to wait long, as a dinner at Polpetto included a dish of Devon crab and sea purslane (I think?) with trofie. So good it was that I set out the next day to recreate it. A quick stop at F. C. Sopers of Nunhead, my local fishmonger, and I was all set. Sea purslane was swapped out for samphire, its salty strands adding crunch. My recreation wasn't quite as good, but then I wasn't three sheets to the wind as the night before. Everything tastes even better when you're drunk, especially if you waited 40 minutes for a table. I reckon adding an extra hunk of butter would do the trick, though.



Crab & Samphire Trofie



Serves 2



200gr trofie

2 tbsp brown crab meat

1 small glass of white wine

1/2 a small onion

3 cloves of garlic

2 tbsp white crab meat

A handful of radishes

1 egg yolk

1/2 a lemon

A healthy knob of butter

A few sprigs of parsley, minced



Slice the radishes thinly and set aside. Put plenty of salted water on to boil for the pasta. Blanch the samphire ad refresh. In a little oil, sweat the onion and garlic until it's translucent and soft. Add the glass of white wine and simmer to reduce by at least half. Stir in the brown crab meat and take off the heat. By now your pasta should be almost ready. Whisk the yolk in a bowl with the lemon juice and add the samphire. When the pasta is cooked, drain reserving a couple tablespoons of the pasta water. Add the pasta to the brown crabmeat mixture, then add the lot to the egg yolk, tossing it so that all the pasta is coated well. Garnish with the minced parsley and plenty of black pepper. Top with a tablespoon each of the white crabmeat.



For any leftover crab and samphire, you can make this.