Respect for the Dead

Last year, I sat, close to tears, in a corridor of the famed Museo Egizio (Egypian Museum) in Turin, Italy and wrote the following notes on a small piece of paper:

"I am gazing at the skeleton of an Egyptian man, barely 5 feet tall.  He is wrapped in brown linen only to his waist, above this is revealed his bare chest- the bones protruding outwards.  His teeth are slightly revealed.  It is a macabre scene.  He is lying in a glass box- like an insect or a butterfly collected by a naturalist.  People stand around me- looking closely at the remains.  All around us are other wooden coffins- torn open to reveal their contents.

 

It occurs to me that we are invading his privacy.  That somehow he has been disturbed from his resting place and robbed of his humanity.  He is literally left bare in front of me and he is being dehumanised in the process of this ‘exhibition’.

All the effort that was made to pass these souls into the after-world has been destroyed.  It seems odd to me that despite all that we now know (and is being told here through the museum) about these people’s believes, their customs and their traditions; their concern for their dead and their respect for these ancestors, we have dug up their burial places, thrown hammers against their history and flown it thousands of miles away.

The fact that we can still stand comfortably with this disturbs me.  We take pictures of the dead- photographs to take home as souvenirs.  A mother jumps behind the Egyptian man, to frighten her young child.  But he doesn’t stir.  We are bereft of feeling and compassion.  It is as if we are beyond feeling for these ancient people.  It is as if they never lived or ever mattered.  It re-affirms my fears for society.  I am left with a prolonged, deep feeling of sadness."

What can we learn from other societies relationship with the non-human world?  This is not just about ancient Eqypt and their complex society, but about the indigenous peoples, today, all over our world- which co-exist with the natural world and animals in a very different way to Western societies.  What does human life mean in an increasingly rational, scientific, modern world?

Note on photography: I have decided to include, here, several images that I photographed at the museum. I do so with some caution, I did not feel comfortable taking them. However, images are powerful and they can (at times) teach us a great deal more than words. 

Small keys can open big doors

I have recently been working on an essay as part of my Masters programme (MA) on urban agriculture in South Africa.  I have been fascinated by Keyhole gardens which are being initiated throughout Lesotho.  Lesotho, is a small, independent, land-locked country, within South Africa, approximately the same size as Wales.

Keyhole gardens are being established, in rural areas, as a way for households to grow their own food.  The Government of Lesotho declared an emergency food crisis on the 9th August 2012 and there seems to be an on-going problem of food insecurity.

Keyhole gardens appear to be a wonderful idea.  I am not certain of whether the science works behind them- but the principle of construction is very simple.  The gardens are generally quite small- you build a circular wall- using bricks or rocks or whatever you can find.  This area is filled with soil to create a raised bed, in the shape of a keyhole, with a gap to walk in to the middle.  In the centre is a hole, to ground level, which enables you to literally 'feed' the soil of your garden with organic matter and water.  This is where the 'science' comes in.

Photograph by Tanveer Badal at www.tanveerbadal.com

There has been an interest in developing Keyhole gardens in other areas of the world, including Afghanistan.  I can imagine the merits of such a simple technology being used in areas that have been affected by war or natural disaster, which might enable households to become less reliant on food aid.
Keyhole gardens are even making their way into other parts of the globe, such as the USA and UK, where school-children are building their own gardens, growing their own food and learning about organic principles.

Photo by Send a Cow at www.sendacow.org.uk

Now, I would like to see if Keyhole gardens may be of use to the urban poor in their own activities of food growing in towns and cities throughout the economic-developing world.  For example, within the many townships of South Africa where soil quality is often very poor.  Could this concept enable growers to focus their efforts on achieving small, but fertile gardens?

It may not produce huge quantities of food, however, to many low income families, any financial savings they can make on food expenditure will make a real difference to their lives.  There are also huge social benefits to enabling families (everywhere) to spend time together with nature, nurturing seeds, watching things grow, participating in physical activity and eating what they sow. 

A sense of living

On Wednesday 24th October, I flew to Turin, Italy- to partcipate in Slow Food's International Conference.  I was delighted to have been invited to represent the UK as an official delegate.

Every two years, Slow Food holds Terra Madre, which translates as Mother Earth.  This year, Terra Madre also combined with Salone del Gusto, which is a massive food trades fair show-casing incredible Italian producers, as well as dozens of small artisan food producers or co-operatives from all over the world. 

Salone del Gusto included fresh dates from Libya, several African coffees, Native American rice and Spanish ham- to just name a few of the food and drinks available to taste.

There was an incredible spirit to the proceedings- which began with the official opening ceremony on Wednesday evening.  This took palce in the Palasport Olimpico, one of Italy's largest indoor arenas with a capacity of over 12,000 people.  Each nation selected a representative to carry their flag through the arena and there was even an official song!

Over the next five days, I attended many conferences on international food issues from weaning infants, to food sovreignty for indigenous peoples. 

One of my most vivid memories are listening to Slow Food's founder Carlo Petrini, talk passionately about the advancement of a Western idea of progression.  He likened this march forward, to a "mighty army...which has left behind our women, our children and our elderly...".  There will come a time, when we will look back towards these marginalized, forgotten groups of people and it is them that will help us!

There is so much happening at an international level. Slow Food is not just an organisation for those who care deeply about the food we share (or don't share), it is also beginning to exemplify how we can make the world a better place, through sustainable living.

A sense of living, that within the modern rush of life, begins by slowing down...

Sourdough

I have enjoyed eating sourdough for some time. Ever since I worked as a Head Chef, near the popular organic Judges Bakery in Hastings- I have been familiar with this rather unusual process of making bread.

There was a time, when all bread had more substance, was slightly heavier in texture. Many breads, today, are almost too light and have so many unnecessary ingredients added to them. We could get technical about this and discuss the Chorley Wood process- however, I am not a baker and will leave that for some-one else to explain.

My understanding is still limited.

Initially, I was a little nervous about how to go about creating a starter, often referred to as a mother or chef. Sometime ago I was first introduced to Emanuel Hadjiandreou, when he was the Head Baker at Judges Bakery. He now works for the School of Artisan Food, Nottinghamshire and recently published a book- How to make Bread.

His explanation of how to make a starter was so straight forward and avoided so many of the off-putting terminology that I had found on other websites and books- that yesterday, I finally began.

Emanuel instructs to place 1 tsp of flour in a clean clear jam jar with 2 tsp of flour and stir. Fix the lid and leave out at room temperature.

Repeat this process- adding 1 tsp of flour and 2 tsp of water every-day for 5 days.

On the fifth day, you should notice bubbles of CO2 appearing on the surface. This is what will help your bread rise.

At this point you will be ready to use your starter to bake your first loaf of bread. Why not join me? Today is Day 2. Early next week, I will up-date this with how I am getting on, accompanied with the full recipe for White Sourdough.

You may also be interested to look at the following blog (they have been lucky enough to attend several days training with Emanuel at the School of Artisan Food)-

http://rhubarbfool.co.uk/2010/12/09/artisan-baking-part-3-white-sourdough/

Note: I am using Doves Farm organic White Flour. Emanuel uses Shipton Mill organic flour. You could use any flour I think. However, I believe that it is worth sometimes seeking the best ingredients and investing in producers who care for the Earth and the food that they source.

Life in the Cotswolds

In May last year, I moved to Gloucestershire and have been working as a Chef de Partie at a great village pub! Earlier this week, I left the pub to return to Sussex.

However, I enjoyed the temporary re-location and being able to live in the countryside. It was not until my arrival in the village of Southrop, that I realised that until then- I have always lived in urban England. There are many things I had taken for granted and others that I simply had never experienced. When not at work, life moved at a much slower pace and without many of the distractions of the town and city. The village is small, with a population of around 300 people- with no permanent shop. It was a real change of life-style, probably increased by the fact that I did not own a car whilst I was there.

I can reflect on some great experiences. I loved to observe nature and the changing seasons. These changes are sometimes less obvious in many towns (I recognise that London is famous for it's parks). A whole physical landscape changes between spring and winter. This is evident when you are surrounded by green spaces.

I spent a great deal of time outdoors- on walks, cycling or gardening. I will post more about some of these experiences soon.

Back in the Kitchen

After several years studying and working part time in a few kitchens in Birmingham, I am pleased to now be running my own small kitchen in the South East of England. It is a humble beginning, but I have been busy writing my own menus and establishing something I am rather proud of.

There is still a long way to go- but I am excited about our direction and the good feedback we often obtain from our diners.

I work in Hastings, East Sussex, a short distance from where this blog began over 4 years ago, when I worked in neighbouring Bexhill on Sea. Over the next few weeks, I hope to be able to up-date you with our latest dishes, inspirations and probably a degree of trivia.

Pictured are one of our dishes featured on the Specials Board last week- Locally Caught pan fried Seabass with crushed new potatoes, English asparagus and an olive oil, lemon and herb dressing.

Embarrassing Ilness?

On Wednesday morning, I went to Birmingham University to take part in some filming for a brand new show on Channel Four. The series, called, 'Embarrassing Illnesses', started last night, at 8:30PM. We have been working on one of the last episodes, to be screened in about 6 weeks time.

I met with some other students to discuss bowel cancer with one of the medical presenters. The highlight of the show, is a little embarrassing and you'll just have to watch it find out more.
It was a lot of fun. We met before 9AM and it took over 4 hours to film what will turn out to become probably only five or ten minutes actual footage. We meet again on Monday night to finish our section of the 30 minute show.
Althought it is prime-time TV- this is Channel 4, so I am not really certain how many people actually may see it! I also think that future episodes may appear quite late in the evening. The show seems to be a little far-fetched, but also claims to be genuinely trying to promote health awareness. And if it is successful in raising awareness of what often are fairly common illness, then it has done some good. It certainly has made me think a little harder about diet and what I can do to lead a healthier life-style.

My medium...

On Wednesday afternoon, I presented the conclusion of my research in to South Indian cuisine by cooking three courses and then presenting them, with some discussion of Indian culture and geography.

I was excited by the prospect, after having spent several months researching, cooking and developing over 15 authentic recipes.

'Food is my medium'

During my presentation I shared a quotation by the classical author, Mark Twain, who to paraphrase said that India was the most 'extraordinary' country he knew, which the sun visited on his rounds.

I went on to explain that Twain was able to very eloquently portray India in words, then it occured to me and filled me with excitement- that I was here, wanting to portray India in the best way I knew. Twain chose words. That was his medium. If I could in a small way portray the beauty and depth of traditions and cultures of India, in taste. Taste allowing so many of the other senses- portraying India in sight and smell. This was my medium.

I have not been able to stand-still since then. This thought has had a profound influence upon me that has remained me with the last several days. Repeatedly the thoughts of foods and cooking returns to my mind again and again. It doesn't matter what I am doing, or where I am.

'the plate becomes my blank canvas'

It has occured to me that I have always had a tendency towards art- but struggled to paint, or draw, or sculpt. None of these forms came easily to me, however much I enjoyed doing them. But, with cooking it is different. I might not have any increased natural ability, but I certainly can cook, better than I can paint. Yet to make such a statement feels wrong. For, in some way, the plate becomes my blank canvas, upon which I can etch, paint, draw.

'I can gain mastery'

What fills me with even greater excitment is that with dedication and commitment, I can gain mastery. The sort of mastery, Michel Roux passionately speaks of when collecting one of France's highest culinary awards-


'I am burning hot. I am consumed by that fire which burns in every craftsman who cares passionately about his work. This is the strongest emotion..My mind flashes back, as in a film, to the master whose apprentice I was, who awoke in the adoloscent I was then the most precious love for this work'

(Roux, 2000, 'Life is a Menu', p199)

Sweet Memories!

I was so amazed by the colourful images of the BBC's, 'Grow your own Veg' series tonight on BBC Two. It was simply inspiring and brought back so many feelings.

I have fond memories as a young child, visiting my Great-Grandparents home in rural Kent, affectionately known as the garden of England. Standing at their window in the quaint village of Littlebourne, just outside historic Canterbury, you could hear the calls of the gorrillas at the late John Aspinall's Howletts Zoo (just a couple of miles away), as Grandad donned his wellington boots. I can still remember now sitting on the back kitchen step, helping shred crisp green beans or carrying muddy potatoes fresh from the ground, heaped in a whicker basket or wiping my mouth from the juice of sweet strawberries, still warm from the ripening summer's sun.
Although both my Great-Grandparents died several years ago, his only son (my grandfather) shares an allotment plot just a few feet away from my mother's (his daughter) in Sussex.
Ever-since, my mum took on the plot, a few years ago, she would drag all us children down the road, helping to carry spades, string and seeds. My youngest sister, now almost 8 years old, literally grew up in a shaded corner, occassioanlly crawling amongst the weeds. Although, I now live in the middle of Birmingham city centre, I still walk past other's allotments, thinking of those times. And whenver I am home, I rarely miss an opportunity to walk down to the woods where a clearing unveils our own allotments. If only to cut some fresh herbs from an for-ever green corner of curly-leaf parsley, or sage, or fragrant rosemary.

Often I take for granted being able to work with an abundance of fresh ingredients- peeling small purple potatoes that stain your finger-tips, or carefully folding in pink rhubarb compote and stiff meringue to fill deep souffle moulds or blanching bright red tomatoes in a huge pan of rolling water and watching the eyes just begin to reveal the flesh beneath, before plunging them in a bowl of ice.

Maldou' ou Maldon?

Well, a new year has begun and 2007 has ushered itself in. There is always something very exciting about new beginnings.
Over Christmas, I had plenty of time to relax and recall sitting down to flick through a copy of the Sainsbury's magazine. I love to thumb through any publications about food and have over the years collected probably hundreds of cuttings of recipes or related atrticles. I had picked up a copy of December's magazine because of one single page advert I had noticed for Maldon.
I was amazed to discover that Maldon originates from dreary Essex, in fact it is the sole producer of this very English export. So why was this so amazing to discover I hear you ask?
Well, ever since I have worked at a michelin stared restaurant here in Birmingham, I have heard chefs and waiters alike refer to our favourite seasoning with an air of French expression- Maldo. This had always given the impression that this superior natural salt was yet another culinary gift from our friends accross the sea. Imagine the irony (and possible audacity) to suggest that this very humble, very British product was not our own.
It is with a great deal of pleasure that when I return to work I will be able to correct my colleagues, with a little pride, as I exclaim (in a little cockney twang), "surely you mean, mate, Maldon".

'I'm a vegetarian!' she cries!!

Today I completed a short-term contract with an agency working at the National Exhibition Centre (NEC), Birmingham. I was working for a company who were exhibiting at a large three day long trades fair. They were looking for a chef to cook a barbecue menu to entice visitors to their displays and I guess in part to provide 'corporate hospitality' to potential clients. It was really a lot of fun despite several near-disasters. Yesterday, not only did I nearly not make it to work by missing the exit off and finding myself on the motorway north-bound. But I also managed (may I add through no fault of my own) to nearly burn down the NEC! But in order not to ruin mine or anyone's reputation, I will decline to say exactly what happened. It suffices to say that it was all under-control.

I cooked several dishes provided by Aubrey Allen, an excellent butchers. We offered Thai Chicken Kebabs, Pork Apple and spiced Warwickshire chipolatas, Lamb Kofta or Minted Shish Kebabs, Chinese Pork, marinated Cajun Chicken and Beef Kebab seasoned with Maldon salt and cracked black pepper. Most days I worked on the grill from about 10.30 till 3:30PM, continually cooking and handing out samples. Today, I offered my array of sizzling meats, adding a little banter about the firm I was actually representing. We had plenty of visitors (some who may have merely been there for the hospitality- we also offered drinks and other smacks. No-one need buy lunch at the NEC, you could easily have been well watered and fed by visiting our stand.

But I think the funniest event of the whole few days, was earlier today when I thought I would try and entice a couple of young teenage looking girls to a sausage or perhaps a large juicy beef kebab, slightly medium with a little pink juice seeping around the edge of the silver? As I balanced the huge platter of meats in front of one of the girls, she turned her face in disgust and cried, 'I'm vegetarian!'. For a second I thought she might have been sick right then and there, as she ran away from me in utter disgust. I could do nothing else but make a faint smile as I called after her offering a desperate (yet slightly hollow) apology.

The Gift of Life!

The other day in-between shifts at work, I sat in the office and opened a cookery book laying on the desk by Anton Mosiman. Of cause I had heard of Mosiman, but must admit I have never taken the time to learn much about him or his style of food. Oh- what I have missed! For I was about to discover, not just a very talented chef (that in itself would have been enough), but a great mind.

He writes, 'to prepare a meal carefully, with the best ingredients and only the well being of your guest in mind, is to give them a special gift- not only the gift of a memorable experience, but...and this is the moment my eyes widened...but also the gift of life' (italics added for emphasis).

'food is the sustainer of life'

I had never conceived, as a chef, that I was offering such a gift. Mosiman goes on to explain this giant statement and to elighten us further. Afterall, at the basic level, we eat food to stay alive, to sustain life. Indeed eating good food has become a human pleasure, but essentially we eat, not because we feel it might be nice, we eat because we have to. It this under-lying principle, that food sustains life, that the cook becomes to a certain degree a giver of life.

Mosiman went on to talk about his development of 'cuisine naturelle', an extension of these thoughts and ideas. However, I do not want to go in to this detail right now, as it may distract from this definitive moment. I sat in my kitchen whites, at the desk, pouring my self over these thoughts and scribbling hurried notes.

In my mind played the words again..'To prepare a meal carefully..is to give a special gift..the gift of a memorable meal..the gift of life...'.

Good Food?

I do not often write about where I currently work in Birmingham, but have realized recenty how much I learn and how this expereince influences my whole philosophy and understanding of food. For example, last week we began to use white asparagus with two dishes on the menu. I don't think I even knew that such a thing existed, let alone tasted it before. Today, I even read a chef in America (New York restauranteur Daniel Boulud) who commented that white asparagus was infact his favourite kind. It does have a unique, individual flavour and good texture, but I believe lacks the beauty and ofcause vibrant colour of traditionally green asparagus. I must confess that I have also discovered a liking for other fine ingredients like imported black truffles and fresh turbot, with meaty, beautifully rich fish. Currently, we accompany troncettes of lobster with a fresh spaghetti, blended with parmessan, truffle oil, salt and a little freshly grated black truffle. It looks and tastes divine!

I could go on and on about the beautiful use of delicious ingredients- sometimes the very best that can be sourced, golden brown scallops with squid and saffron orzo, chicken with caramelized apple, sweetcorn and maple syrup, enormous sweet souffles with our own iced-creams. Good food? No, more, fantastic food, carefully prepared and presented with a master's touch.

Big Cheese Competition!

I was delighted to be invited as a National Finalist recently in the first Grana Padano Young Chefs' Competition two weeks ago. Grana Padano is an Italian hard cheese- delicious in its' own right- yet similar to parmessan. It originates from Northern Italy and infact can only be called Grana Padano if it meets the standards of a regional consortium there.

'he doesn't like to be called a celebrity-chef'

I travelled to London's Westminster College of Catering to cook my recipe for Grana Padano Cheese Souffle with Red Pesto Rattatouille. It was an arduous journey, despite the efficiency of Virgin Trains, making it from Birmingham to Euston in just 1 Hour and 29 minutes. I then dragged my luggage, including ingredients and service plates accross the underground, changing several trains, before a short taxi journey from Victoria station to the college. I was relieved to arrive in plenty of time to meet Giorgio Locatelli. Locatelli could be introduced as a 'celebrity chef', but I am told he doesn't like to be called that. Despite his successful television work with channels like UKTV Food and several accompanying books, he prefers to be recognised as a restauranteur and Michelin starred chef. Locatelli observed us prepare our dishes together in the colleges' kitchen, before presenting our dishes to his watchful eye.

'I prayed in front of the oven'

Another finalist, had the pleasure of serving before me and returned a few minutes later, looking a little sullen. He told me that, 'He didn't say anything!'. 'Nothing?', I asked. Locatelli had tasted the dish, but had said nothing. I wasn't sure what to think, but tried to encourage myself and him, by saying, 'well, that could be a good sign', but I wasn't even convincing my self.

Well, my turn soon came around, as I prayed infront of the glass fronted oven, wishing my souffle to rise. Indeed, it did and after quickly garnishing it with a little basil and a shaving of cheese, I rushed out to the retsurant table and the silence of Signor Locatelli. Once again, he leant towards it, reached his nose to the souffle and then delved his fork into the golden crust. He drew the fork to his mouth, swallowed, the silence continued and seconds began to feel like minutes. I didn't know if I should say something, 'Do...you...have any questions?' I mumbled. Silence. He took another forkful, before retreating to a nearby chair, scribbling notes on a clipboard and staring into his papers. I skuttled back to the safety of the kitchen as quickly as I could.

About half an hour later, after everyone had presented their dishes to him, Locatelli gathered us around to give a summation of his thoughts. He speaks. And we finally find out the result- I did not win, but he did speak highly of my entry and seemed to enjoy the dish, despite its simplicity. I scored lowly for creativity, but this only had a few points available, whilst scoring much more highly for taste and use of the ingredients. However, another small souffle served with generous slices of pork belly pipped me to the title and the prize of a trip to Italy.

Every finalist did win an entire wheel of cheese. It arrived last week, 36.6 kilos of Grana Padano. The largest piece of cheese I have ever seen and almost too heavy for me to lift, let alone eat. Something of a booby prize- but a very big cheese!

Vive la FRANCE

The other week I drove to Olympia, Earl's Court, London, to visit the 'Vive la France' exhibition, sponsored by the Sunday Times. It was quite an expensive day, as parking was very dear, but it was well worth it.
Vive la France was a cultural exhibition really, but it included some excellent areas on food and wine. I went with a friend from the college who is studying Hospitality Management with Food studies. There were several stands from French food suppliers including delicious cheeses, breads and cured meats and saucisson. A few of the sellers barely spoke any English at all and spoke in thick French accents. I smiled particulalry as we approached a stand with a man wearing a slightly faded blue apron, his rounded waist hanging over the apron strings and a large black moustache. I only wish he wore a beret!
We sampled several really nice cheeses including a cheese made from Ewe's milk and a wild Boar saucisson. As a family I have travelled to France on many occassions and had the opportunity to visit several regions from the Jura neighbouring the Italian and Swiss borders, to Biartitz on the Spanish border and of cause areas of Paris and Normandy. Such visits have always included visits to art galleries and museums accompanied by vivid memories of fresh food and beautiful landscapes. France is a country I can return to again and again and never be dissapointed.
We also enjoyed watching a few live demonstrations from Jean Christophe Novelli, Raymond Blanc and Michel Roux Junior. These are all very acclaimed and talented French chefs. Novelli recently opened a new gastro-pub in Harpenden, which is receiving some good reports, but probably much of this hype is associated with his name, more than the food. Raymond Blanc has made such a name for himself taht we probably only need to mention hsi name and it is synonymous with classicial fresh French cooking. Roux- well everything speaks for itself, but I am still surprised by how many people have not heard of the Roux brothers. Albert and Michel Roux arrived in England in the early 70's and swiftly opened a highly successful restaurant in central London. Over 30 years later, Le Gaveroche still remains at the centre of London's culinary map. Michel Roux Jr has taken over the reins from his father, Albert, but it is in very safe hands. Meanwhile, Michel moved to the Berkshire village of Bray, to run the Waterside Inn, beside the Thames. His son, Alain Roux now runs most of the business, but it is all a family affair. I first heard of the Roux brothers shortly after I first left catering college and they continue to inspire me.

There is more to French cooking, as we embrace other cultures and ingredients, but everything seems to flow back to the mouth of the river, the fountain's spring. Vive la France.

Sorry it's been so long!

I am really very sorry that it has been this long since I have last made entry, but as usual time has passed extremely quickly and I have been very preoccupied. However, I intend (again) to make more frequent use of this sight and hope that you will continue to check from time to time.

Thanks for keeping in touch!

Education= Bits of PAPER?

Today I was speaking to a friend about a new course I begin on Thursday with the John Hopkins University School of International Public Health, in USA via the internet. The course will last the Autumn semester and is in International Food Security, Production and the Environment. He asked me why I would want to do this particulalry when I expalined that I didn't think there was certification at the end of it. I said, 'But education isn't all about bits of paper!'. He replied, 'Of cause it s!'. I retorted, 'No, education is about aquiring knowledge', he replied, 'No, it's all about getting bits of paper'. We had to agree to disagree on this one.

The certificate is surely irrelevant. Do I study a degree for the letters after my name? Well, yes, that is a big part of it! It certainly adds credibility, prestigiousness, but in itself that is the wrong way to go about things. Education, in its purest sense is about gaining increased understanding and applying what you learn to become wiser, more knowledgeable, in affect- better at what you do. That is why I study and seek to gain more education. A certificate at the end of the process is a bonus. A nice thing to have, but by no means at all, is it a requirement.

So, life at Uni? I have to be honest and say that I am continually dissapointed. Possibly because I am not putting in all I should, but mostly because I simply do not think I am being stretchted to capacity. I am simply not learning enough- not hearing enough new things, not being challenged sufficiently. I expected to be stretched and I have no doubt that will come. For the time being I am busy enough with other things to do the miniumum and wait until I need to work harder. Possibly not the best approach but at the moment- the most practical one.

I am learning. If I wasn't I wuld not be here. But I have to wonder, I am learning enough to make this all worthwhile? Who knows?

Possibly only time will tell?

Waterside Lunch!

Sometime ago I meant to post this entry about my visit for lunch at Alain and Michel Roux's 'The Waterside Inn', Bray. Just before I left the Fat Duck in August, I decided to dine at the village's other three Michelin starred restaurant, 'The Waterside Inn' and I arrived with great expectations.

The Waterside Inn calls itself 'un restaurant avec chambres', in typical French style- literally, a restaurant with rooms. Not that I could ever afford to stay there, mind you. As I arrived, slightly early, I was warmly greeted by a tall French man with thinning white hair and suddenly I realized that I was shaking hands with Michel Roux himself. I was invited to sit in the lounge area beside the reception desk and sat back in a large comfortable sofa. I began to speak to a well-dressed American couple sitting just opposite me. I asked them if they had travelled far and they 'matter of factly' detailed how they had last night been staying in Hamburg on the Queen Mary, a luxury cruise and were due to fly back to New York at 4PM. It was already nearly 12:30PM and they were still at least an hour away from Heathrow. They told me that since they were in London, they thought that they would come for lunch. But I mean, why not?

I ordered an aperitif and began to read the Lunch Menu. Inside, the first page, reads a message from Michel,

'Whatever the meal, we believe in cooking and eating the best produce available. Usually this is as simple as respecting the seasons and the result of a good working relationship with a supplier. Now that summer has arrived, we cook inhaling the aromas of English tomatoes and peas, asparagus grown in the salt marshes in Cornwall, peaches and strawberries from Kent, each served with delicate light sauces. Rose petals from our neighbour Mandy's garden flavour the sorbet. Scallops, lobsters and wild salmon arrive from Scotland daily. We source our oysters from Colchester, Aberedeen Angus beef from Speyside and New Season lamb from the West Country, usually flavoured with herbs from our garden...
We should follow nature's recommendations, as there is no doubt that she knows best!'

When shown to my table in the airy, spacious restaurant area, I was almost immediately presented with a large dish of delicious canapes. These included a delicate cheese brioche, Melba toast with chicken liver pate and sultana, filo pastry with broccoli, green beans, cauliflower and celery wrapped in a slightly spiced tomato dressing, fresh Halibut with horseradish carefully enveloped in bread and a baby courgette with mixed vegetables. This impressive selection was accompanied simply by a small Beetroot masterfully sculpted in to an elegant flower and a single piece of flat leaf parsley. It truly needed no other work.


Parts of the hotel and restaurant are distinctively traditional, fairly elaborate and formal in decor, whilst the restaurant itself is surprisingly different in ambiance. It is extremely simply in furnishings- plain white table cloths with small floral decorations and simple wooden chairs. There are no exaggerated fittings; I sat at a small circular table beside the window and yet nothing needed to be overstated.

The General Manager had spoken to me briefly earlier and when discovering that I was a Catering student, he had declared in a heavy French accent, 'Well then, let us surprise you!'. No order was taken, I simply received course after course.

I began with a Chicken Consomme garnished with a fine julienne of chicken breast, diced red and green pepper, tomato and herbs, including fresh tarragon and chive, with a swirl of truffle flavoured cream. The clear, translucent soup was chilled and slightly set, so that when cut with a large silver soup spoon, the consomme flowed gently into the cream. And when tasted, each flavour could be appreciated collectively and a lone. The consomme was filled with subtle flavours and left a clean, smooth taste and texture in the mouth. This was a superbly light and enjoyable beginning on a warm, late summer afternoon.

Next, I was presented with a small silver tureen resting on a little porcelain dish. The waiter removed the lid to reveal a lobster tail and claw, sitting in a port and vegetable sauce with a slight hint of ginger. The tail was meaty, slightly chewy, but well cooked. At first, I was uncertain how to tackle the claw (this isn't really the kind of place where one can use your hands, is it?). But I discovered that it was so well prepared and cooked, that by simply inserting my knife carefully between the shell and meat, it pulled easily and cleanly away from the claw, revealing a tender and equisite pink piece of fish. There was a marked distinction in both taste and texture between each piece of fish, with the claw being significantly more tasty and firm.

I gazed out of the window over looking the River Thames and a large weeping willow gently swaying in the breeze. Occasionally a small boat would pass by, birds glided through the sky, the sun reflected on the rippling water, the setting was perfect.

Several minutes later, I enjoyed a single seared Scallop accompanied by a small herb salad of parsley and coriander with baby squid, accompanied by a refreshing seaweed tartar dressing with a few toasted sesame seeds. The scallop was an attractive golden brown and when cut revealed a soft, delicately cooked centre. There were no dominant flavours- everything seemed well balanced and in perfect proportion to each other. There were subtle after-tones and interesting combinations of taste.

I sipped on a refreshing Pink Fruit Cocktail, served with straws, ice and thin slices of orange and lime. I sat back, relaxed and paused.
Service at the Waterside Inn is personal and attentive. Each dish is not only carefully placed, but explained at length. At times it may have felt to me that there were slightly too many waiters hovering around, however this feeling may have been increased because I was eating alone and slightly more aware of their presence. This being said, the ambiance of the restaurant is certainly comfortable, relaxed, friendly- yet slightly formal.

My main course (also a complete surprise) was served on a large glistening plate with a huge silver cloche. Once removed, I was presented with thinly sliced lamb, slightly pink, served on a sweet tasting vegetable puree, surrounded by carefully turned carrots, halved broad beans and mange tout, with a crispy golden rosti, watercress and a thin jus.Everything here was again- absolutely delicious! The lamb was perfect- cut easily with the edge of my fork. The vegetables were just cooked, soft, yet maintaining all their beautifully bright, natural colours and taste. The rosti was a perfect accompaniment, offering something slightly crunchy and crisp, to an otherwise delicate, soft dish.

A young couple in a table near by to me ordered a whole French Duck which was presented on a trolley, then carved and served at their table by two waiters. The young man made me smile, as he exaggerated his reaction to each course. Whenever asked, the food was always, 'Fabulous..magnifacent..marvelous..wonderful!'. I wanted him to declare that it was 'stupendous', or to use a long string of compliments in one full swing, sadly (to my extreme disappointment) he did not.

I chose desert from the Menu Gastronomique and thoroughly enjoyed a dark luxurious Chocolate and Raspberry roulade. Following dessert, I was presented with an impressive array of petit fours including soft peppermint marshmallow, fruit jellies with sugar, toffees, nougats and tartlets filled with patisserie cream and passion fruit. At least 10 sweet delights, sadly far too many for one! I left at least half of them.

Following my meal, I sat reflecting for a minute or two, before leaving the table and sitting outside on the picturesque decking beside the water's edge.

It was really a wonderful ending to a fabulous, magnificent, marvelously stupendous lunch!

So what do you think, Gordon?

What a humbling experience it is to come face-to-face with a Grand Master and find yourself wanting. So it was, when I presented my chosen dish to Gordon Ramsay on Saturday afternoon.It had been a horrendously busy preparation in order to be ready for the audition at Hammersmith and West London College.

I had been working all day at the restaurant in Birmingham on Friday and went shopping quickly for ingredients in my afternoon break. Finally, I was able to get away from the kitchen at about midnight and got home to begin cooking my dessert until about 5AM.This enabled me two hours sleep until I needed to get up again, tidy the kitchen (a little), pack the car and get on the road to Central London.

I arrived at Hammersmith, just after 12:30, in plenty of time for the audition.Gordon had already spent the morning with the other half of the contestants and now had to judge our own group of about 50 entrants. Many of those taking part were Chefs or catering students, but there were also a large number of amateurs. In fact, I don't like to use that word 'amateur'. Rather, they were not emplyed in the industry, they were simply driven by a love or sincere interest in good food. They were no less qualified for entering than anyone else!Gordon made a brief introduction to us before the competition began. He literally ran into the room, briskly striding into the hall, followed by two large television cameras and a man carrying a huge microphone. Wearing an immaculate white chef's jacket, with blue jeans and black trainers and his blonde hair swept accross his forehead, he said, 'Welcome' and then dispensed with any more pleasantries and got straight down to business...

"What I'm looking for..is (like) a needle in a haystack..And I've got to be brutally honest about this becuse we haven't got much time. Who's gonna cut the mustard? I'm not gonna mess around with any of you..It's very hard to say what makes a talented Chef?
Enthusiasm, energy, passion!
We're not going to spend much time together today- minutes, seconds...
I hope that we find that special person- whose got that little bit of 'wow'!
A little magic!
Remember one thing- you're here because you're good! Enjoy it!"

When it came to being judged, each of us lined up to present our dishes to the camera before making a long walk through the college to the audition room. The film crew followed us through the dimly lit corridors as we filed through the building.

In the room, were two rows of small square tables. We were asked to stand behind a designated table, with our dish infront of us and waited for Mr Ramsay and the judges to arrive. One by one, he and a few of his brigade, stopped at each table and inspected the food, whislt Gordon interrogated the contestant. We watched on as he made his feelings very clear...

"I don't believe you made this?" he remarked to one 21 year old Chef, "Swear to me on your mother's life that you made this pate!".
"Gordon, on my mother's life, I swear that I made this pate!".
"No, look into my eyes when you tell me" remarked Gordon.
"Chef, I swear on my mother's life that I made this pate!".
"No you didn't look into my eyes", replies Gordon, as the chef is distracted and glances away.
He moves closer, so that by now their faces are only inches away and the young man raises his voice and with a little desperation, exclaims, 'Chef, on my mother's life, I swear that I really made this pate!!"
"Say it once more, louder!".
And for a final time he shouts, "Chef, on my mother's life, I made this!". Finally, Gordon walks away, adding with a little saracasism in his voice, "Yes, but I still don't believe you!".
By this time, any small amount of confidence I had left, was very quickly dissapearing and I would be last, wouldn't I?

'it was my turn in the furnace..'

Well Gordon approached my table and we briefly shook hands and then it was my turn in the furnace. He suddenly picked up my dish from the table and raised it to his eye level. And then he began, first he took a spoonful, ate a rose petal (or at least took a bite). I plucked up the courage to ask, 'So what do you think, Gordon?'. Well, that was a mistake. For I don't remember him saying one positive remark. His final comment was, 'Basically, you just didn't light my fire!' and with that he just looked at me in silence and I looked back at him. And for what felt like a very long time, the cameras simply rolled on...

My 'Autumn Berry Pavlova' with fresh vanilla double cream, served with strawberry coulis and crystalised rose petals, created for the Cook Off competition of Channel 4's forthcoming series, 'The F Word', co-presented by Gordon Ramsay and Times Food Editor Giles Coren. To be screened from October 27th.

The next Jamie?

Recently I had the opportunity to meet Gordon Ramsay at the College of Food, whilst we hosted the National Semi Finals of the 2005 Ramsay Scholorship. Gordon spoke publicly at the awards ceremony and surprisingly demonstrated himself as a highly articulate, sensible and educated individual. He only swore on about two occassions!

Tommorow, I have been invited to take part in the First Round Cook Offs for a new television production hosted by Gordon Ramsay and Giles Coren, Time's Food Editor/ Restaurant Critic. The show, which will be aptly called, 'The F Word', is to be shown in the nine weeks leading up to Christmas on Channel 4. Part of the hour long program (I believe to be scheduled on Sunday evenings, just before watershed at 8PM) will be dedicated to Ramsay leading a kitchen brigade serving members of the public and VIPs. The competition tommorow is to select twelve places on the kitchen brigade.

I was asked to apply in writing, including a photograph of myself and was then interviewed informally by telephone on two ocassions by members of the Production Team. They received almost 1,000 applications nationwide and have selected just 100 individuals to present a dish to Ramsay and other judges at the Hammersmith and West London College, Central London. The dish needs to be pre-prepared and served cold. In my case, it will need to travel over 100 miles with me to London, from Birmingham, before it will be briefly assembled and presented. The judges will select from this round, a group of cooks who will compete on Sunday for a place on the show. The entire audition process will also be filmed, for potential broadcast.

Even if I am unsuccessful, it is exciting to be involved at such a competitive level!! Watch this space!