Review: Hotel du Vin, Birmingham

I don't think that I've ever been spellbound by a breakfast table until I was lucky enough to be treated to Hotel du Vin. After a glorious sleep in the biggest big that I've ever had the pleasure of getting lost in (even doing my best starfish impression, I couldn't touch the sides), we traipsed downstairs and were swiftly seated.

The service was prompt and before long, our hot food order had been taken and we were let loose on the selection of chilled and baked goodies to while away the time until our food was ready. In sophisticated surroundings, I grappled to keep my inner child - who was urging me to run circuits around the groaning table, piling my plate ever higher while whooping with excitement - under control. It was truly a feast of breakfast delights. There was fresh banana bread and fruit flapjacks in addition to the common or garden croissants. A bucket, jewelled with dewy condensation, was packed with ice and studded with darling little screw top jars of yogurt and a smattering of fruit compote. There were bowls filled with cereals including a hearty rustic granola, stewed summer fruits and spiced apricots. Even the orange juice was a joy to behold; sweet yet zesty- what a friend might describe as a (pleasant) citrus slap in the face.

Being as restrained as a I could bare (they were, after all, playing jazz at breakfast - tres chic), I daintily (ha!) filled my plate and returned to our table to report back to The Boy. My excitement got the better of me as I blurted out something along the lines of: ohmygoodnessitsamazingtheresEVERYTHING.

Suffice to say, the cold buffet was fantastic and would've been a sumptuous meal in itself. The cooked portion of our meal had quite a lot to live up to! The Boy was pleased with his full English breakfast which was chock-full of quality ingredients including the tastiest bacon either of us have ever experienced. The only thing that it was lacking was some baked beans though I suppose the debate about whether these are an element in a traditional full English should be discussed in at a later date. My French toast (when in Rome, etc) was good if a little greasy. It was served with maple syrup which was lovely but I added some of the stewed summer fruits from the cold buffet which perked it up a treat and gave a pleasant sharp contrast to the otherwise sickly sweetness of the dish.

In short, Hotel du Vin know how to do breakfast!

Hotel du Vin Birmingham can be found at 25 Church Street, Birmingham, B3 2NR. Tel: 0121 200 0600

Review: Pitt Cue Co, Soho, London

It might just be my sources but the word on the meat scene of the capital has been dominated for some time by three words: Pitt Cue Co. For those of you who have been out of the loop, the minuscule Soho-based restaurant has been making (cow-shaped) ripples in the food scene for a while now - the hype about their no reservations policy has been matched only by that of their fabled barbecued offerings. And, of course, the publicity has started a vicious (ever hungry) circle as the eatery gained popularity which created longer queues and in turn fed its cult status among carnivores.

The combination of urban food myth and char-grilled meats made it an ideal place to take The Boy during one of his infrequent visits to London. Having done our research, we arrived 30 minutes before opening and joined the already sizeable queue. I must admit that, having lived in Britain for my entire life, I'm something of a queue-connoisseur; we Brits like to form lines for everything. However this queue was unlike pretty much any queue I'd witnessed before; the queuee's (as I shall call them) were cheerful. Maybe it was the quirky Soho setting or maybe the glorious smell of searing ribs combined with low blood sugar was making everyone delirious but people were waiting patiently and happily. After several months of shoulder-bargy, foot-squashing, tube-cramming, irate-to-the-point-of-evaporating-with-rage London commuters, I started to think I was seeing things.

Around 6pm, the kitsch lace curtains that lined the bar's windows began to twitch and, finally, the doors opened. I half expected the air of patience to dissolve and for us to rush the entrance like eleven year old's at a One Direction album signing but instead the doorway was barred by a friendly gentleman - keeper of the keys, if you will - who organised the tables. The Boy and I only just made it over the threshold; the queue was cut short just behind us. The place was jam packed and we were seated to eat in the bustling bar which was fine for two but probably would've been a pain for a larger group.

We ordered and proceeded to spend the next 20 minutes masking the rumbling of anticipation emitted by our impatient tummies with pleasant conversation while nursing pints of house "Whatever" lager. Dubbed "Whatever" because it's exactly that: any beer that takes their fancy at the time. We got lucky; it was equally moreish and thirst-quenching. Despite the noisy setting, it was quite nice to see the bar staff working away while we waited. They seemed in their element as they churned out cocktails and pulled pints.

Enamelled trays were set down in front of us with a satisfying clink against the wood of the table and I bearly had time to take note of it's contents before instinct took over and I had to start gobbling. I'd chosen brisket with a side of chipotle 'slaw. The meat was so tender; it could have been cut with a spoon. Satisfying for the novelty if nothing else. It was somewhat drowned in barbecue sauce but, to fair, it wasn't your average barbecue sauce. It was seductively smokey and packed full of umami flavours - literally finger licking! The 'slaw was delish and surprisingly refreshing - the creamyness was a delightful contrast to the fragrant sauce on the meat.

The Boy went for pork ribs with burnt end mash and this definitely didn't disappoint. The ribs were mammoth. Literally! Like the gigantic ones that are strapped to the side of Fred's car in the closing titles of the Flintstones. They were juicy and tender too. I found myself feeling rather jealous as The Boy knawed (caveman-style - very apt) on the bones to extract every ounce of flavour. The burnt end mash was much nicer than it sounds - creamy smooth mashed potato covered in a layer of burnt scrag ends from the barbie. Seriously good stuff.

Pickles and a hunk of char-grilled bread were included as standard and worked well. The briny sharpness of the pickles helped to cut through all of the strong flavours while the bread was essential for making the meal finish sociably - I have no doubt that we would've been licking the trays at the end if this hadn't been provided.

All in all, the meal was good value and we thoroughly enjoyed everything (okay, if I'm being picky, they do that annoyingly fashionable thing where they price everything by one decimal place - £1.5 rather than £1.50 - but that can be forgiven). Be prepared to turn up early on a busy night and wear comfortable shoes for the queue. Other than that, if you're in London and you like meat, all I will say is that you must go.

Pitt Cue Co can be found at 1 Newburgh Street, Soho, London W1E 7RB. Open Monday - Saturday for lunch between 12pm and 3pm and for dinner between 6pm and 11pm. Nearest Tube: Oxford Circus.

Sticky Toffee Bread and Butter Pudding

Sometimes the simplest combinations are the best. Salty Cheddar cheese paired with sweet and sour Branston pickle, for example, or sweet ripe tomatoes combined with aromatic basil leaves. Both examples are far more than the sum of their parts. Bread and butter is another classic duo which are endlessly versatile; they work as an accompaniment with all sorts from scampi to jam.

I must admit that I was never drawn to the British classic, bread and butter pudding, when I was young. I always associated bread with savoury flavours and so, the idea of adding it to a sweet dish didn't compute. How wrong I was! It's such an easy dessert to make and is very forgiving if you feel the need to bend the recipe to your culinary whims. For my recent al-fresco-feeding-of-the-many-people moment at Cronkshaw Fold Farm, I added a luxurious sticky toffee element - as a nod to another British classic - but you could omit the deliciously sticky dates and caramel sauce for dried cranberries and white chocolate instead. Raisins and nuts would work well too. Or you could go for a virgin version and revel in simple stodgy comfort food. Either way, hot or cold, this ones a winner.

One of my lovely friends (I only have lovely friends, you understand) is gluten intolerant, just like my dear Mum, so my version was made - very successfully, I might add - with gluten-free bread. The custard binds everything together so that the bread, which without gluten is usually very dry and crumbly, was soft and moreish.

Sticky Toffee Bread and Butter Pudding
Serves four (multiply at will)

For the pudding
150g pitted dates
½ tsp bicarbonate of soda
50g butter
10 slices of bread (brown, white, granary – the choice is yours)
400ml milk
2 eggs
25g sugar (plus 1 tbsp to top the pudding)
1 tsp vanilla extract

For the sauce
100g sugar
100g butter
100ml cream

- Preheat the oven to 180C.
- Put the dates and bicarbonate of soda in a small saucepan and top up with water until just covered. Place over a low heat and simmer until the dates have broken down, stirring occasionally. Once the process is complete, they will look alarmingly like tar but fear not, as they taste amazing. Remove from the pan and set aside.
- Meanwhile, whisk the eggs and sugar together until creamy. Set aside.
- Once the dates have completely collapsed and you've emptied the pan, pour the milk into the saucepan and place over a low heat to warm through. This has the double benefit of infusing the milk with the toffee notes of the dates while making the pan easier to clean (as well as reducing washing up!).
- While the milk is warming, butter the bread then smear with a little date mixture and cut diagonally into triangles.
- When the milk has come to temperature, whisk slowly into the eggs and sugar.
- Place a few slices of the buttered bread into a baking tin, slightly overlapping them as you go. If you have any of the date mixture leftover, add a smear or two of that. Repeat the layers until you've used up all of the bread.
- Slowly pour the egg mixture over the bread and leave it to soak for 30 minutes or so. You might want to press the bread down into the mixture so that it soaks up all of the custard-y goodness.
- Scatter with the reserved sugar and bake for 40 - 45 minutes until golden brown and crisp on top.
- While the pudding is in the oven, melt the sugar in a saucepan over a low heat. Stay on the ball here or you’ll end up with a burnt mess. The edges will start to melt first – as soon as the first centimetre or so starts to turn golden brown remove from the heat and whisk the butter into the mixture.
- Next pour in the cream and return to a low heat, whisking constantly to remove any lumps. Add a pinch of fleur de sel or sea salt if you’re feeling fancy and want to go for a de rigueur salted caramel sauce.

Butternut Squash Risotto with gorgonzola and wild garlic purée

Nothing rings in the lighter evenings like a camping expedition complete with smoke-swathed open fire. Despite the weather, we met up with some friends up North and we needed something to feed the masses al fresco at the lovely Cronkshaw Fold Farm. Given the horrendous wet weather and cool breezes, risotto seemed to fit the bill very well in terms of belly-filling and easy multiplication for a large party. The rain clouds parted for a brief interval so the pan was finished off over the barbecue while everyone drank Parchers (Pimms and Archers schnapps mixed with lemonade, obviously...).

Our night under canvas was somewhat scuppered by the heavens opening as we chomped our way through pudding. The hardened (and particularly warm-blooded) members of the gang earned kudos and man points by slumbering al tento though I must admit that The Boy and I retired to the protection of the farm house to find nocturnal shelter from the deluge.

Wild garlic is still in season and if you're fortunate enough to catch it before it flowers, it's a fantastic free ingredient. It's plentiful in hedgerows and the countryside in general so pick it while you can. You can find lots of friendly faces online who are willing to through in their tuppence-worth on how to identify and pick this pungent delight. The purée featured below makes a fantastic addition to your fridge jar collection as its incredibly versatile. Whisk it into salad dressings, stir through pasta or fold into pesto for a grassy, garlic hit.

Butternut Squash Risotto with gorgonzola and wild garlic purée
Serves four (but easily multiplied for a larger party, as I did)

For the risotto
1  medium-sized butternut squash, halved with seeds removed
1 onion, finely diced
2 carrots, finely diced or grated
2 clove garlic, peeled
300g risotto rice
160ml white wine or dry vermouth (or a splash of white wine vinegar)
1l vegetable stock
50g butter
50g parmesan, grated
125g gorgonzola

For the purée
120g (several large handfuls) fresh wild garlic leaves, washed
50ml olive oil

- Preheat the oven to 190C. Peel and chop the squash into 1.5cm chunks. Pop them on a non-stick baking tray with the garlic cloves and stick them in the oven for 30 minutes or so while you make the risotto. Check the squash every so often and turn it with a spoon to ensure that it cooks evenly. The squash is cooked when its soft when pressed, slightly golden and starting to caramelise around the edges.
- Heat a large pan of boiling water and drop the wild garlic leaves into it. Leave them to soak for a mere ten seconds then remove them and plunge into cold water for a minute or two and drain.
- Blitz the leaves with olive oil in a food processor until smooth.
- Heat a little oil in a heavy-based saucepan and sweat the onion and carrot until soft and sweet.
- While you wait, heat up your stock so that it is warmed through and keep it on a low heat.
- Tip in the rice and stir until it has absorbed all of the juices of the vegetables in the pan. Pour in the wine (or vinegar) and keep stirring while that absorbs to ensure that the rice doesn’t stick.
- Add the hot stock a ladleful at a time, stirring until all of the liquid is absorbed before adding more.
- Check the butternut squash, which should be cooked through. (If it isn’t, cover the risotto and turn off the heat below it.)  Mash half of it with the garlic cloves to a course purée and stir this into the risotto with the butter and parmesan. Fold in or top with the rest of the roasted squash, dot with wild garlic purée and sprinkle with chunks of gorgonzola.

Do you love risotto? It's fantastically versatile! Why not try a classic butternut squash risotto, sweet and fresh pea risotto or nutty seasonal asparagus risotto.

Pomegranate & Feta Bulgur Wheat Cous Cous Salad

There seems to be one standard topic of conversation today: the weather. Our chatterings have stubbornly circled the subject like flies buzzing lazily around an enclosed room. Anyone venturing outside has returned sullen and soaked through - ah April, we'll be glad to see the back of you and your persistent showers.

I don't know about you but I was certainly in need of some sunshine to brighten up my lunch break. As the English weather wouldn't provide, I decided to get my fix in a culinary form: pomegranate. I adore its mouth-watering sweet flavour and sharp tangy after taste which makes it an ideal partner to salty, milky feta cheese.

A pairing like this needs a hearty foundation which is why this recipe calls for bulgur wheat. It's basically the butch big brother to cous cous - chunkier and meatier with more bite. It's easy to prepare and is ideal for salads; adding spices in the soaking liquor effectively self-dresses the salad so it just needs finishing off with simple lemon juice and mint. Ideal for prepping in advance and assembling at the last minute! Unfortunately, bulgur wheat isn't suitable for those that are sensitive to gluten but it can be substituted for quinoa or rice if necessary.

Pomegranate & Feta Bulgur Wheat Cous Cous Salad
Serves 2 – 4

1 ripe pomegranate
1 red onion, sliced
2 cloves garlic, sliced
2 green chillis, chopped
200g feta
1 tsp dried cumin
1 tsp dried coriander
½ tsp cinnamon
Pinch of ginger
Pinch of turmeric
100g dried bulgur wheat
½ veg stock cube
Juice of half a lemon
Small bunch of mint

- Boil a kettle of water with enough water for around three cups of tea.
- Meanwhile, place the stock cube, dried spices and bulgur wheat in a deep bowl. Once boiled, pour water over the dried ingredients until it is completely covered by ½ inch of water. Stir well and set to one side.
- Sweat the onion with a drop of oil over a low heat for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally so that it does not stick, until soft and translucent.
- Add the garlic and chilli and allow to soften and the flavours mellow for a minute or two. Set to one side off the heat.
- Remove the seeds from the pomegranate and crumble the feta. Remove the leaves from the mint and roughly chop or chiffonade if you’re fancy.
- Check the bulgur wheat; it should be plump and tender and have absorbed the liquid. If it’s not tender, leave it to soak a little longer. If it’s tender but still has excess liquid, drain through a sieve.
- Assemble the salad by tossing the tender bulgur wheat with the softened onions, pomegranate seeds and crumbled feta. Dress with mint and lemon juice.

Rachel Khoo's Little Kitchen in Paris

Life has been fantastically busy for me in recent weeks. I’m only comforted by the fact that this seems to be commonplace in my social circles at the moment. My diary has been filled up with scribbled times and places and the coming months look even worse. I have resolved to find time to chill out and do very little but I’ve found this rather difficult given my cumbersome schedule to date. I had a moment to reflect on this while I sat on the Tube, zipping from one engagement to another and realised that I’m not actually very good at stopping. I find it difficult to close the door on life and focus on relaxing; it seems like my ‘to do’ list has grown limbs and is incessantly tapping at the door, tapping its foot impatiently. 

Anyway, I did find time to sit still for thirty glorious minutes and decided that it would be a good time to watch something. In the mood for some light relief and some culinary inspiration, I watched The Little Paris Kitchen: Cooking with Rachel Khoo on BBC iPlayer. 

As you know, I’m not the biggest fan of food programmes (am I, Sophie Dahl?) but this was… okay. Better than most, I would say, mainly because she’s cooking in unchartered territory – a real kitchen. A refreshing contrast to the airy loft conversions and country farm kitchens (complete with wood-fired oven) that are the backdrops to most ‘sleb cookery programmes. I’m pretty tired of aspirational kitchens on TV; gimme real any day. Kitchen aside, Khoo is a curvy thirty-something with Hepburn-eque cheekbones who hails from Britain and has since made a name for herself in Paris.  She’s likeable and has less of the smug sheen that I’ve come to associate with TV chefs. As a Brit in France, her mission is to simplify French cookery for the masses.

Despite laying it on thick about her tiny kitchen, I feel like the producers could have made more out of the whole cooking in a confined environment concept. It may be no bigger than your average bathroom but Khoo somehow manages to squirrel a vast selection of tins, baking trays, food processors et al away somewhere. I’d love to try her madeleine recipe but I simply don’t have the space for another tin in my shoebox kitchen. Maybe they should have given us an insight into Khoo’s magic powers of storage?

The recipes are a little hit and miss but on the whole, I like them. She’s a trained pastry chef á La Cordon Bleu so needless to say her sweets look glorious. The chocolate mousse looks to die for though not all of the recipes are available on the BBC website; doubtless because they want to flog you the accompanying book to the series. During the episode that I watched, Rachel made a sumptuous looking stock (Fantastic, I thought. Real stock!) for her Bouillon de Cassolet. I found myself bristling -waste martyr that I am - as the cute and bubbly Rachel merrily discarded a huge hunk of back bacon and a handful of sundried tomatoes as they were apparently only for flavour. So they’re good for flavour but not for eating? Surely not. 

Anyway, little gripes aside, I quite liked The Little Paris Kitchen: Cooking with Rachel Khoo. If nothing else, the transitional clips of beautiful Paris kept me happy.Worth a watch if you like that kind of thing.

If you're curious, check out The Little Paris Kitchen: Cooking with Rachel Khoo on BBC iPlayer here or watch it as a chaser to Saturday Kitchen at 11:30am on a Saturday morning.

Raspberry pancakes

Make breakfast worth waking up for, that’s my motto. This is mainly because I’m not a morning person so I require a meal with enough allure to pull me out from the warmth of my duvet and shake off my sleepy state. I generally go for a wholesome bowl of muesli or porridge but I decided to try something a little different for a change.

I’ve been eyeing up this hearty pancake recipe on IrvingtonWashington’s blog since Pancake Day. I wanted to get up a few hours early and eat with The Boy who tends to be up and out at the crack of dawn to put in a long day at the office. With a leftover tub of Greek yoghurt in the fridge and a bag of frozen raspberries winking at me from the freezer, it seemed like an opportune moment to try it out. I must admit that I cheated a bit; I made them the night before and then microwaved them in the morning. Even I struggle to be a culinary goddess first thing in the morning…

And oh my, these did not disappoint. Deliciously light yet nicely filling – perfect to kick start your day. They’re not very sweet so they definitely need to be served with syrup, honey or jam. Can't wait to try an apple and cinnamon variation. Ideal for the long Easter weekend!

Raspberry pancakes with caramel syrup

Serves two heartily, makes 10 

For the pancakes

250g low/no fat Greek yoghurt

3 tbsp milk

80g plain flour 

3 large eggs, separated

100g frozen raspberries, defrosted

For the syrup (optional)

6 tbsp caster sugar

50ml water

- If you’re making the syrup, start with this. Heat the sugar in a heavy based pan over a medium heat. It will gradually start to melt – don’t be tempted to stir it! 

- Wait until its completely melted and golden brown then add the water. It will bubble and hiss so stand back and let it do its thing then whisk until smooth.

- Next stir the egg yolks, milk and flour together until combined.

- Whisk the egg whites into soft peaks and gently fold it into the egg yolk mixture. Be careful to do this delicately so as not to knock the air out of the mixture. 

- Fold the raspberries into the mixture.

- Heat a non-stick frying pan over a low heat and wipe with a little sunflower oil or butter. Add spoonfuls of the mixture – I kept mine small and thick, like Scotch pancakes. Cook a few minutes until small bubbles will appear at the edges then ease from the bottom of the pan and turn over for a few minutes more.

- Serve warm with the syrup (if using) or with jam or honey.