Zakynthos 1, London 0

12 days on a Greek island, and I'm a changed person.

We stayed on Zakynthos, one of the Ionian islands, the next one over from (maybe) the more well-known Kefalonia, which attracts an altogether more middle-class kind of tourist. Zakynthos is definitely the smaller, poorer cousin who has, around its southern coastline at least, in the town of Laganas, decided to give up its day job and embrace a life of beer, football, sunburn and chasing tail.

We arrived not in Laganas, but in Alykes, on the north eastern side of the island, sandwiched between two holiday resorts very popular with Brits. Although vastly preferable to the resorts frequented by beer-swilling, strip bar clientele, sporting custom-made 'LAGANAS STAG DO 2010' t-shirts and surviving on a varied diet of both McDonalds fries and kebab shop chips, it was still not what we were expecting and was somewhat annoying to begin with. We had come to see Greece, not Blackpool on holiday. Although not as developed as other parts of the island, nor were there any fairground rides or penny-slot machines, it was enough to remind us that learning to drive, and the independence that comes with mobility, is important. Especially when trying to find The Real Greece and escape the package tour and 'egg and chips, please' Brits that favoured the island.

Luckily for us, the place we stayed was a delight - quite a haven in the midst of the resort of Alykanas, the larger and more brash of the two towns we straddled, complete with bars called 'D.N.A.' or 'Two Fit Birds' or whatever. Alykes, the smaller and more serene of the resorts, was still replete with full English breakfasts and more world cup screens and England flags than you could shake a stick at.

We managed to ignore most of that. We'd planned to see the best the island had to offer - nesting beaches for endangered loggerhead turtles (caretta-caretta), incredible blue caves made by the erosion of soft limestone cliffs around the island's north coast, framing perfect azure waters, and to try as much authentic greek food as possible.

Look! A real live caretta-caretta swam under our boat!

The studios we chose to reside in were called Anna Studios, run by a marvellously friendly couple from Dagenham and Suffolk, Ian and Sarah, (who met whilst working in the prison service), and were utterly unlike anywhere else I've been. Once you've stayed there, with Ian, Sarah, her son Fraser and their dogs, cats, chickens and geckos, you feel a little bit like one of the family.

We've certainly never experienced such warmth and hospitality that seemed so effortless. From our first email exchanges, to being met by Sarah at the airport, to being asked to sit and eat with our hosts at an evening barbecue, we've never felt so completely welcomed by any other place we've stayed.

The studios themselves were clean, well-appointed and comfortable. Ours was stocked with bread, some jam and butter, teabags and milk upon arrival. Sheets and towels were changed regularly and we were given a fan as soon as the temperatures started to climb. The rooms were suited to couples or small families - private but close enough to chat with your neighbours if you wanted to - and the pool was big enough for a proper dip, with pretty gardens surrounding it.

What we liked most about the Anna Studios, however, weren't the gardens, or the pool, (or the truth bar by the pool), or the fresh eggs from the roaming hens, or even the great location a 10 minute stroll to the wonderful beach at Alykes. It was the feel of the place, which encouraged you to do those things that we find are so often lacking in our busy modern lives - talk to other people, make new friends, and find the opportunity to truly relax.

In those last few days there, I felt my limbs lengthen, my heartbeat slow, and myself opening up to the many possibilities of alternative futures - that with 'one auspicious and one dropping eye' - no longer include London.

I'll let the pictures speak - they're better than words in this case.

More Salad, Please

I'm really getting into this whole warm-weather-salad-for-lunch-dinner-and-tomorrow's-lunch-again thing.

Look: this was the beautiful beginning of a chorizo and chargrilled vegetable couscous salad also served last weekend in the sunshine:

I mixed the grilled ingredients with some couscous steeped in chicken stock and some Moroccan ras-el-hanout, (following the Moorish theme from the previous post) then served with a tuna, haricot vert and chickpea salad tossed in a coarse grain mustard and balsamic dressing, and a nice crunchy endive, rocket and tomato salad on the side. We had some homemade guacamole and some gorgeous olives from the local Turkish shop to complete our happy table.

Yum. Hooray for the summer and with it, the end of that daily craving for chips and soups and pies and all kinds of sweet comfort foods to get through those long nights. No, more greenery for me henceforth. This is when my heart really sings.

Summer. Finally.

It's finally warm! And as I was in Paris and then Milan for work last week, I got to see spring taking hold on the continent too. Paris was buzzing and full of lovers walking the boulevards. Milan was a mixed bag, with some thunder, lightning, and an occasional downpour, but they were the tempestuous Spring kind of showers, like the heated arguments of young Italian lovers; fiery yet short-lived.

Now we've had a week of lovely sunshine-filled days and the temperature has been steadily creeping up. Of course my mind has turned to summery things - cocktails, holidays, fresh seasonal foods. So with the warmest weekend on record this year beckoning us to go out and finally enjoy our garden last weekend, I rejoiced in the resurrection (don't know why I've used such epic language here, apologies - the sun must have gone to my head) of salads of all kinds and simple grilled meats, along with mezze-type foods that seem to work so much better in the climate they were born in.

One of my favourite restaurants serving mezze-style dishes, and lots more besides, is Moro in Exmouth Market. Sam and Sam Clark's first cookbook inspired by the food of the restaurant has some great recipes with an Andalusian/Northern Moroccan feel. For our rather 'Moorish' feast last weekend, I made pinchos morunos, substituting halal lamb from our great local Turkish shop for the pork the recipe calls for. Looking further East, recipes such as baba ganoush are stupidly easy yet still give off that 'I'm a worldy-wise chef' vibe to your guests. Finally, from the same 'mezze' section of the Moro cookbook, we tried out the carrot and cumin salad with coriander (with some chickpeas added for good measure). The results were pretty ace, even if I do say so myself...

Baba Ganoush (adapted from the Moro cookbook)

Ingredients:

3 large aubergines (about 750g - 1kg in total)


2 garlic cloves, crushed to a paste with 1 tsp salt


juice of 1 lemon


3 tbsp tahini paste


4 tbsp olive oil


sea salt and black pepper



Directions:

Pierce skins of aubergines, and grill whole over hot barbecue, directly on naked flame of hob, or under the grill, until the skin is charred and flesh is very soft. Under our grill, 3 aubergines took about half an hour, turning regularly. Or place in a very hot oven (gas mark 7) for 45-60 mins until soft inside.

Remove from heat.
When cool enough to handle, discard tops and peel off skin, scraping flesh from back of skin if necessary. Place flesh and any juices in a large bowl, and either whisk or beat by hand until almost smooth (I beat by hand, to leave a bit of texture). Add garlic, lemon juice, tahini and olive oil, stir and taste for seasoning. Serve with warm flat Turkish bread.

Carrot, Chickpea, Cumin & Coriander Salad

Ingredients:

450g carrots – organic ones are fit.

400g tinned chickpeas, drained

2/3 tsp cumin seeds


1 garlic clove


juice of 3/4 lemon


1/3 tsp caster sugar


1 tbsp olive oil


1 small bunch fresh coriander leaves, chopped


sea salt



Directions:

Peel carrots and boil whole in salted water till tender. Drain, spread out to cook and dry before slicing them quite thinly.
 Pan fry the cumin seeds, then grind in a pestle and mortar (or just crush with a spoon), add garlic and 1/2 tsp salt and pound some more.

Mix lemon juice, sugar and olive oil into garlic mixture. Now toss carrots and chickpeas in the cumin dressing with the coriander. Serve at room temperature.

Pinchos Morunos

The cookbook calls for pork filet for this recipe, but we found that 500g of lamb chunks did very nicely instead.

Ingredients:

500g lamb shoulder, diced

sea salt and cracked black pepper

Marinade:

1/2 heaped teaspoon each of coriander seeds, cumin seeds and fennel seeds, all ground

1 tsp smoked Spanish paprika 'pimenton dulce'

2 garlic cloves, crushed with salt

a good pinch of Spanish saffron, infused in 2 tsp boiling water

1 bay leaf

1 tbsp red wine vinegar

a slosh of olive oil

Directions:

Place lamb into a large mixing bowl and add the marinade ingredients. Mix thoroughly and add the olive oil and leave in the fridge for a couple of hours to allow the flavours to marry. Thread on skewers and grill on charcoal for best results (we haven't got a barbeque yet in this flat so we made do with a nice hot grill).

Serve with bread, natural or Greek yoghurt with cucumber and mint stirred through, your baba ganoush and salad. Sit back and enjoy the warmth. Sunglasses optional.

I ♥ Ramen Noodles

This one is great for one of those spring evenings when it’s not too warm but not freezing either, and you can’t be bothered with really cooking, and you want something both warming but not stodgy and heavy and wintry, because you’re trying to move forward into spring, if the goddamned weather would just play ball, and you don’t have anything in the fridge except two salmon fillets and half a spring cabbage. Having said that, this particular recipe does rely on you, like me, having an unhealthy obsession with ramen noodles, and preferably a kitchen cupboard stocked with the bare essentials for oriental cooking: fresh garlic and ginger, chilli, some bamboo shoots, some water chestnuts, toasted sesame oil and of course, soy sauce. Some baby corn would also go down a treat, but I didn’t have those this time.

Salmon Ramen Noodles

Ingredients:

2 fillets salmon
3 cloves garlic, crushed

2x1 inch piece fresh ginger, finely chopped

1 tbsp clear runny honey

2 tsp dried chillies

half a pointed cabbage or 3 tops pak choi

2 packets ramen instant noodles

soya bean paste

toasted sesame oil

a few healthy dashes of soy sauce

1. Firstly get your salmon fillets marinating in a mixture of soy sauce, crushed garlic, chopped fresh ginger and honey (the runny kind works best, although soy sauce will mix with any kind). Leave them to marinate for as long as you can, turning occasionally, while you prepare your vegetables.

2. Chop your bamboo shoots and water chestnuts if the kind supermarket people haven’t already done that for you. The same goes for the cabbage. I like pak choi or spring greens best, although of course Savoy cabbage, pointed spring, or any other kind of leafy thing would work well.

3. Get a griddle pan nice and hot and throw in a dash of sesame oil. Fry your marinated salmon fillets evenly on all sides until they’re nicely charred and criss-crossed with black stripes with a hint of pink in the middle (maybe 4-5 minutes on either side). The honey will caramelise on the outside and make them look well fit.

4. Bring a large pan of water to the boil and add some flavouring to it. Now, you have a choice here. The minimum effort option would be to tip in the handy little sachet of flavouring that comes inside the ramen. But it's mostly MSG and tends to give me headaches if I use all of it. So, you could tip in a bit, as they do taste good, but you could throw most of it away and tip in some toasted sesame oil, some soya bean paste if you have any, some freshly chopped ginger, a little crushed garlic, some dried chilli flakes and a tiny bit of Chinese five spice.

5. Add your noodles, stir in your veggies (saving the leaves of whatever green leafy thing you have chosen to throw in near the end). Once the noodles are cooked, add the leaves and take off the heat. Place in warmed bowls and rest your salmon fillets on the top.

6.Take photos and send to your friends. Yum.

NB: After writing this, a nice lady called Helen who has just visited Japan told me that in restaurants there, if you pronounce Ramen 'rahhh-men' you're probably going to get tittered at when ordering it, so she kindly enunciated the correct way for me: 'ra-Men'. So now we know. Thanks Helen. This post is for you.

Operation Easter Bunny Pt. 2 - Escape From London

The Thursday night...

I'm at The Albany pub in Great Portland Street, chatting to my friend who we'll call Birch. Birch has been living in Sydney for a little over a year now and hasn't been back in London since August. It's been ages, and he's assembled a group of lovely people, some who I've met before, some of whom I haven't. It's getting on for 10pm. I know that we have an early train to our secret Easter destination the next morning and it's going to take me at least 40 minutes to get home. I'm chatting away and trying hard not to check my watch, because I'm having a good time with all of these great folks, but I'm also keenly aware that at home the Mister is already packed, waiting to get an early night so we can wake up refreshed for our adventure, and that as usual, I'll burst in late, shattering any semblance of peace and throwing the house into turmoil, as I look for clean clothes and make myself instant noodles.

I say my goodbyes and rush to the tube, thanking the Victoria line for its efficiency (when it works, it's the best line. Really.) Without too much of a frenzy, I pack, shower, and we're in bed by 12.30. We're tired and fall asleep almost instantly. My body braces itself for the 6.30 alarm on Good Friday.

Good Friday...

We're up early and we have some pastries for breakfast warming in the oven. I've been instructed that our train leaves at 8.30am and that there's a taxi booked for 7.30 to collect us. We move around, fuzzily-headed, gathering our wits about us, and checking for the taxi at every 10 minute interval. All of a sudden there's a horn tooting outside, the pastries are hastily bundled into foil, and our bags are over our shoulders. We leave a little late, but finally, we're off!

Halfway to the station we realise breakfast is still on the kitchen counter. Bugger. Oh well, we're on the move! We'll get something at the station! Maybe even something fatty, sugary and loaded with additives in an international coffee super-chain! I'm giddy with excitement. The minicab sails through West London. I slowly come to realise that we're heading for Paddington.

'The West!' I think. Where could it be? It must be far, if it warrants such an early train. We pull up and it's nearing 8.10am. Perfect, I say. We've got 20 minutes to grab some coffee and a croissant. Then we can get the scrabble out and start this bank holiday as we mean to go on! So where are we heading then? Which platform is it?

The Mister gives me a sly sideways glance as he wriggles his bag out of the car. He smiles. He looks at his watch and says, "It's platform 8." Then with a giant smile, he adds, "We're going to Cornwall. We're going to St.Ives!"

I couldn't have been more overjoyed. St.Ives was one of my family holiday destinations between the ages of 12 and 21. The last time I had been there was my 21st birthday. It's a gorgeous seaside town of artists and surfers, famed for its incredible views, ever-changing light, marvellous seafood, beachside Tate gallery and quirky boutique shops. We'd discussed going back there a few months previously, as the Mister had some memories of being on a holiday there with some friends when he was 18 or so, all wide-legged surfer dude pants, badly-rolled joints and acid jazz records.

Then I noticed the information board for platform 8. The train wasn't due to leave until 9.20. We had a full 40 minutes. He'd allowed lots of extra time for me, and my notoriously late, lazy arse. Suddenly my early morning caught up with me all at once and I became very, very petulant and childish at having my morning begin earlier than necessary. Much earlier. I think I may even have said, 'You got me up this early to have 40 minutes to wait here in the station?!' How very ungrateful of me. I shudder a little as I write this. But yes, my sleep on a day off is sacred, I'm afraid. I sat down and faux-sulked a little next to the statue of Paddington Bear.

Well, after that little moment of infantilism, I saw sense. Paddington Bear sorted me right out. We went and got some fatty sugary goodness from Starbucks and waited it out.

And here is what awaited us when we arrived.

Of course, it was all totally worth it.

Operation Easter Bunny

Easter weekend is coming up, and I'm buzzing.

Here's why - on Thursday last week I got this happy little message in my inbox from the Mister:

Operation Easter Bunny requests your presence:

Date: Friday 2nd April

Time:

08:30hrs

Location:

London Railway Station (need-to-know-basis)

Kit:

Wee suitcase containing enough clothing for 2 night stay, toilet bag (own toothbrush optional), scrabble, notebook, book, make-up, waterproofs (we hope these will not be needed), swimming gear (optional but I'm taking mine)

Rendez-Vous at [our home address] - ready to leave at 07:30.

We will be returning to above address late afternoon on the 4th April 2010.

How sweet is that? Never did I think that those casually-dropped hints would have been taken on board so readily by the man in my life. "Wouldn't it be great to be surprised with a call to say, meet me at the airport with just your passport and toothbrush, you've got the next few days off work," is a sentence that has passed my lips many times, but has never been put into action. Until now (well, within reason). Actually I don't know if I'd want someone else to sort out my holiday dates with work. Scrap that.

He's a special one, and I'm an extremely lucky girl. The only trouble is: I'm also an extremely sniffly girl. I seem to have come down with a cold just in time to be a bit worried about whether I'll enjoy being whisked away as much as I'd enjoy my own bed, my slippers, fleece blanket and the entire back catalogue of Come Dine With Me. So today I'm at home resting up to make sure that wherever we're going, I'm going to give Operation Easter Bunny my best.

It's quite exciting, though, isn't it? I wonder where we're going. Waterproofs? Well, clearly we're not leaving the UK. Swimming gear? Does that mean a pool? Or does it mean some crazy Scottish urge to throw ourselves into subzero waters to prove some kind of point about hardiness?

His 'own toothbrush' clause points to a long-standing discussion (debate would be too strong a word) about why I won't share a toothbrush with anyone, not even my beloved. I'm sure my mum won't mind me blaming this on her microbiologist habit of analysing the likelihood of bacterial growth on any surface at any given time. It took me a long time to be able to share a can of coke. I know, it's sad. I'm working on it.

Anyway, I'll write all about it, wherever it is we're going, once we're back. Here's wishing you a wonderful Easter break too.

Bill's Produce Store/ Sabai/ Pompoko / Brighton

The Bitter: Lots of students (I'm only kidding, I love students!); the fact that this is my first non-London review

The Sweet: Three lovely eateries in 36 hours and a gorgeously sunny Spring day

7. All right, so they're not in London, but I thought they were worth reviewing

I love Brighton. It was where I wanted most to study at the age of 17 after a visit to Sussex University's rolling hills and because I had a distinct nose for anywhere or anything vaguely 'alternative'. It's a place that screams freedom - the 'screw you squares, I did a law degree because you made me, but gave it all up to work in a health food store and teach yoga on weekends' kind of freedom.

Now my cousin, S, studies there, and on a recent visit for work I took the opportunity to spend some time revisiting my own student days and admiring the town’s Laines, loonies, and the fine shops and restaurants that Brighton has to offer – as a working adult with a bit more than the dregs of my student loan to see me through.

First up was something of a Brighton institution: a shop, café and restaurant all in one – Bill’s Produce Store, on North Road.

It’s noteworthy for this blog in particular, because it feels like a little piece of East Dulwich in the town otherwise known as “London-on-Sea”. There are organic fruits and vegetables. There are lots of pretty jars of pricey, yet tempting sundries from around the globe. There's arborio rice in little sacks. There are yummy daddies (yes, it’s that fashion-forward) having lunch with their little cherubs in papooses. You can get a flat white there with not a hint of any disdainful glance from your server (I asked for one this morning in a Bristol coffee shop and was met with a dead-eyed stare). Look, it’s so London, I saw a yummy daddy with one of these there:

My cousin recommended it as a good place to take a family member who would undoubtedly pay for lunch. Smart cookie. The food was great, and our facially-pierced waiter was just the sweetest thing, calling us all 'madam' (there were four of us under 30 in our group), which went down pretty well. I had a smoked haddock pie with some cheesy mash on the top and a really fresh side salad. My cousin had eggs royale - basically eggs benedict with smoked salmon that actually garnered a resounding 'oooooh' from around the table when her eggs yolks burst out onto the toast underneath. Me? I don't like runny eggs much. Ah, well. That's what comes of having a microbiologist for a parent. I don't have any photos, sadly, but you can get a good idea of how it looks from this excellent post from An American in London, a cool blog I've just discovered. Sadly, she doesn't agree overall about Brighton's charms.

Next up, another good recommendation from cousin S for dinner - Sabai Thai Gastrobar. The name had me worried, as I pictured high stools, questionable music, expensive cocktails and weeny little spring rolls and satay skewers posing as dinner for birdy little stick-women. I was very pleasantly surprised. The restaurant did have a water feature, but was really tastefully done, and was packed to the rafters. We were lucky to get a table, and had to wait a while for our food, but the sweet, smiling waitress who was seemingly on her own that evening apologised, gave us lots of free prawn crackers and did her best to keep checking on us. I'd recommend it if you find yourself hungrily wandering by the Pavilion.

Lastly and possibly my favourite, we stopped for lunch at one of S's favourites - a student haunt that is as cheap and as cheerful as they come. Pompoko means a kind of dahlia, according to my friend Lo-Sal (this is not his real name), a quirky Spaniard who is studying Japanese Culture at Birkbeck. I simply had to take pictures for him, because it was right up his street. And mine. And apparently right up the street of most of Brighton's students. It was consistently busy, even at 4pm - snooze into your soup hour for most places.

What wasn't to like? The prices, the close-together-perfect-for-eavesdropping-tables, the quality of the food, the Japanese lucky cat on the counter, oh and did I mention the prices?! This lovely sesame prawn don with rice and chicken yakisoba were a little over £4 per dish, and were served hot and fresh within 5 minutes. Bliss.

Brighton, you have won me over again.

And I'm darned jealous of all those bloody students.