The Eight Belles - Bletchley

Before I start this review I would like to make it very clear that there was a lot of things I liked at The Eight Belles. The atmosphere, the décor and even the menu (after I had decrypted it’s cunning and hidden design).

 The pub is, first and foremost a pub and I really liked that. It’s honest and certainly not pretentious in any way, with a 1940’s design it nods to Bletchley Park (which is only a few minutes walk away) with appreciation for it’s place in the town and it’s place in history. The staff were enthusiastic and our waitress worked hard to ensure we were happy which as it turned out, was a harder job than she had probably expected.

A Sunday menu of three starters, four mains and three puds all looked very appealing, I love a limited menu because it means the chef has the time and opportunity to put everything they've got into making each plate the best it can be. As expected, The Child shunned the childrens menu as she preferred the look of the squid starter while Mrs P and I had the roast lamb and beef respectively.

The squid was not crispy but it was cooked through and The Child made short work of it, only slowing down when it became ‘too spicy’, I paid no heed to this however as I know she can take down a shake of Tabasco when she wants to and put it down to the fact that she simply didn’t want any more lettuce. You’ll have to get up earlier than that my girl if you want to get one past me.

Our mains were slightly more problematic though as Mrs P’s Lamb was dry, chewy in parts and half her plate had been dedicated to a massive splodge of straight-from-the-jar vinegary mint sauce – Mrs P does not like mint sauce. Luckily, she had also been provided with a cutesy little jug of gravy which our waitress refilled for her very swiftly.

My beef had the somewhat opposite problem as it had been described as ‘very rare’ which it certainly was – no trade description act problems there, and so I had no issues with getting to grips with a very generous portion of what was essentially rare ribeye, it was a bit cold if I’m being critical but the gravy sorted that out and the veg was fine if a little one dimensional. However, most telling I'm afraid is that a roast lives or dies on the strength of it’s roast potatoes and unfortunately these were just too soggy to be anything other than adequate.

But it was the puddings that really let the Eight Belles down, well that and the 90's house music that was bizarrely powering through the PA system. Here was the first look at my chocolate torte and Mrs P's chocolate trench cake.

I feel bad for the kitchen here because I hope that these dishes were not what they would normally serve. If I'm wrong though... well, everyone has to earn a living somehow. The cake was so dry that it literally crumbled to dust every time a fork went near it and the only thing keeping it looking like a cake was the icing.  The torte on the other hand was so solid that it actually shattered as I tried to cut it, but quite apart from the super chilled top (and not in a fashionable 'Netflix 'n' chill' kind of a way*), the thickness of the base would have been issue enough on it's own, I mean look at the size of it!! We complained and were offered the alternative pudding but with two of the three options being problematic we didn't hold out a huge amount of hope and politely declined the offer.

So we paid up and left, beatboxing our way out and digging the phat and phunky beats all the while thinking about the positives; the decor, the atmosphere and the enthusiasm versus the negatives; ... well no need to go over it again.

So in conclusion, if you are looking for a honest, decent pub that can do you a generous portion of grub on the side, then The Eight Belles is a good bet, particularly with the unique ambience it's created. But I'm afraid it can't quite hold it's own against the growing number of other pubs that are dotted around when it comes to getting your hands on a good Sunday lunch.

@eightbellsmk
www.eightbellesbletchley.co.uk

*Yeah, I'm down with the kids.**

** Not really, I heard that on First Dates and still have no idea what it means. Mrs P tells me that I can't even say 'down with the kids' any more. God I feel old.

Akasaka - Wolverton

I think it's fairly safe to say Sushi certainly isn't for everyone. It’s not too much a problem for The Child though as we’ve previously seen and I've been itching to get her into Akasaka for ages. I've seen a few of my local foodie friends coming, going, then coming back to Akasaka with rave things to say about the menu so needless to say that I was very intrigued to see how a Japanese restaurant could survive in and around Milton Keynes being in such welcome and individual contrast to the usual style of eats we have around here.

A smallish room, I spent time appreciating the decor while the The Child simply studied the menu ravenously - I liked the clean lines of the place setting, seen here with my Jasmine tea pot (not for the left handers among us).

To get the full sushi experience, we decided to enjoy the delights of a Bento box and so chose two of the three options available with plenty of unpronounceable names and promises of previously unknown delights. You certainly get a lot for your set price lunch money:

All this plus miso soup shown here with a light brown dipping sauce of unknown (but tasty) origin.

The miso soup was light and unmistakably miso-eske. Miso has, what I consider to be, an acquired taste and while I finished mine off, The Child took a couple of mouthfuls and pushed it aside before jumping into her Bento.

She loved the gyoza, nigiri and the rolls (we asked to replace the standard avocado filling with cucumber) and couldn’t get enough of the fish balls or the fried chicken. The Child wasn’t sure about the seaweed salad but I thought it was really tasty and after a couple of flakes of ginger she decided against it.

As we were working our way around each section, we decided that the chicken balls were; ‘super, mega tasty’, followed by the sushi proper; ‘good, especially with the sauce’, the gyoza; ‘crunchy and meaty at the same time’ and the salmon slices; ‘as soft as my skin’ which, in my opinion, is as perfectly soft as you would ever want salmon to be.

Towards the end of the meal as more people had come in and bigger plates started coming out of the kitchen, we started to see other interesting rice and noodle dishes sweeping past, The Child and I had a (very) brief discussion about if we would like to come back to try them. It was an unqualified agreement between us, especially when the bill came out at a nicely affordable £25.

Finally, after scoffing down the last of her cucumber rolls dipped in the mysterious brown dipping sauce, she shared the following piece of zen-like wisdom with me which was (not surprisingly when considered to The Child's usual standard of conversation), totally unconnected to what we were actually eating:

‘Daddy, I love sushi, I really do. But I draw the line at the pink fish eggs which is strange because I normally love pink.’

Wise words my girl, wise words.

The Bell and Bear - Emberton

I've been to The Bell and Bear before and I liked it so much that for my birthday, Mrs P took me back for steak night. It was still awesome.

We got a steak and half a bottle of wine for 20 quid which basically meant that, as it was my birthday and Mrs P was driving, I got a bottle of wine with my dinner. Happy days.

In fact I got so happy that I couldn't help but tell the bloke on the next door table that this was one hellova epic ribeye, yes it was. I met him again afterwards in the bar and it turns out that he's the head chef's dad... so that was a lucky co-incidence.

As a whole meal, there were small things that could have been better but really who cares?! A steak like that is a thing of absolute beauty and delivered with such consummate deliciousness that, (along with the bottle of wine, on your birthday, with your wife and a dram of good whiskey for afters) it should be considered to be an honour to eat it. I even forgot to ask where the steaks came from but I'm sure it was a sustainably responsible and higher welfare source because that's the kind of guys that The Bell & Bear are.  If you get the chance, I suggest you take it because like I said; awesome.

The Smoke Pit - Northampton

Christmas has come and gone for another year. We’ve all eaten too much, drunk too much and even I in my, lets face it, already fairly rotund state almost started the New Year with an ‘meh’ approach to meal times.

I say ‘almost’, because as some of you may know (and not just the stalker-ey ones) it is also my birthday at this time of year and so there was nothing for it but to attack the Christmas and New Year over-indulgence head on with meat, meat and more meat. I’ll worry about the details like living into my Seventies later.

This is The Smoke Pit, another in a clutch of American and BBQ joints I’ve managed to experience recently and one which Mrs P and some very good friends of mine (Hello Mr and Mrs Johnston) thought I may enjoy. It’s true, I love a good BBQ, I could hardly go to Memphis In May and not be a bit of a fan so I was really looking forward to having another local crack at BBQ.

Certainly The Smoke Pit has it’s atmosphere and ambience right, from the fantastic cleaver door handles to the pop art covered walls and the jar/mug/glass jobs that the cocktails come in, the place looks and feels great. We walked in through a little bar area with comfy seats and some bar stools which look like a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

My watermelon cocktail was really tasty and went down very quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. The following craft beer (sourced from a Scandinavian brewery for some odd reason), was also tasty and settled me down nicely, even though it wasn't served in a tulip glass. There was a round of milkshakes too which the ladies (and Mr Johnston) enjoyed immensely. Ever the cider drinking man, Mr Johnston was also tempted by a bottle of Northamptonshire's best Drink of the Year from Saxby's Cider. Yes, I've had it and yes, it's lush. 

We started, rather foolishly as it turns out, with the starters, I had nachos simply because I thought it would be good to compare with my previous nacho adventures and my dining guests were confident they could help me finish them off. Mrs P ordered off menu and asked for the crispy prawns as a starter and around the table we also asked for the half pound of buffalo wings and the scallops.

All tasted good, with the prawns being a stand out. The scallops were a little odd only by virtue of the two enormous chunks of bread that stood proudly on top. The wings were covered, quite properly, in Franks Red Hot Sauce and were very tasty indeed, although not quite up to Lone Star standard. The nachos were great with a lovely balance of cheese to guac. I liked the salsa although it was a little sweet and I would have preferred more chilli but these are little things and I am sure the majority of punters would just demolish a plate of these with no issues.

For mains I had been prepared for a meaty marathon and so it was.

A Smoke Pit platter for one had brisket, pulled pork, chicken thigh, ribs and a mahoosive sausage. Hefting the sausage alone felt a little daunting and coming off the back of those nachos I began to wonder if I had gone too hard, too fast. Never one to give up without a fight though I soldiered on. The sausage (or ‘hot link’) in fact was one of the better aspects with a warming smoky taste and the pulled pork being very soft but covered in far too much sauce for the pork to really come through. The chicken was good with some nice crispy skin and a beautiful charred flavour that told me all I needed to know about the grill. But I have to say that I didn’t really like the brisket because it was drowned in gravy and it was very difficult to uncover the soft beefiness behind, perhaps due to the lack of a rub which is a problem I believe I’ve mentioned before.

The pickled veg on the side was sweet and a great addition that cut though the heavy sauces with ease. However, most interestingly were the Louisiana style Ribs; my expectations were that they would be deep from the smoke and crusty with flavour and the best measure of that is the smoke ring, the layer of pink colour that forms as the smoke and flavour penetrates into the meat. Here we were almost as white as the driven snow.

The meat itself was soft and yielding and finished really well so I’ve got no complaints about the taste, it was all fine but for a venue that sells itself on a particular type of cooking, I would love to take a closer look at that smoker to see just how much use it's getting…!

The others went for cowpigchicken burger platters and everything was, of course, enormous. The whole table seemed perfectly happy with the various elements and the only comment came from Mrs P who complained her burger was very dry but that wasn’t too much of a problem because she dumped a load of pulled pork on it for lubrication.

We also liked the sides, the tabacco onions in particular (no cigarettes involved of course, its all about the look of the thing) but due to the immense portion sizes, we predictably struggled anything more than a forkful.

Pricing was very fair at £150 for four adults considering the portion sizes and the whole evening was really enjoyable, although to go for the true American BBQ, I would see no harm in perfecting one or two of the cuts and giving the option to cut down on the portions and prices a bit. All being said then, I would certainly talk about and point people towards the ‘Pit for those of you searching for some smoke, grill, BBQ and serious drinks to wash it all down with. It scratches a certain itch that doesn’t come round often but when it does, you need somewhere like The Smoke Pit in your life.

http://cowpigchicken.co.uk/
@the_smoke_pit

Now, that was the review and you don’t have to read the next bit if you don’t want to but the meal got me thinking about how we eat more generally. It’s really just a bit of a ramble so if you agree, let me know. If you don’t, let me know. Food, just like life, is full if different experiences and opinions but all I want is to be open and show those experiences to as many people as possible.

To finish, I would like to pause for just a moment and talk about the problem of the European-ification of non-European food styles. We in Britain and Europe more widely tend to work on a course based meal system, that is to say there are usually several courses during a meal each bringing a distinctive and different flavour or food type to the meal. At its most basic this could be a simple starter, main and pudding combo and practically every restaurant in the country follows this guideline but it is not unheard of for anyone who watches Masterchef to have several more. Have you ever thought how many other culinary cultures actually do this? I have not had world-wide eating experience, but certainly in an example most suited to this post I have visited many BBQ joints in Memphis and I saw exactly no-one ordering starters because there weren’t any starters on the menu. It’s true that families shared an obese and outrageous amount of food but these were all straight into sharing/main plates.

Similarly with Thai/other eastern food types and in discussions with people whom I hope wouldn’t mislead me on the subject, starters are a westernised influence which they don’t seem to do back at home. So why do we do it? Perhaps we feel short changed unless we can order at least three things, I don’t know, but one thing is for certain; neither I, nor any of my companions finished their dinner at The Smoke Pit and we couldn’t take a pudding either. I may be wrong, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time, and I am happy to be corrected but as the rise of BBQ grows in popularity, I hope that in adopting the excess of American cuisine, we don’t overindulge in what we think that style of food is or should be with the expectation of having such mammoth portion sizes at every step of the meal.

Perilla - Platform 1, East Dulwich

I have no illusions in saying that I am not the most typical/average/normal person in the world. I might even go so far as to say that I am positively strange in parts, but occasionally I am confronted with an approach that confuses, challenges or surprises even me. Hopefully, all at the same time. Such is the case with the latest buzz word to be thrown around the national press, food blogs, celeb endorsements and the such like. Clean eating is being called a trend (definitely not a diet) and has come to be popularised by eating small dishes that are 'good for you'  as well as being focussed on flavour.

So eating less food overall but more fresh fruit and veg than anything else. To be fair, I'm not sure we can call that a trend; Mr Motivator was saying it twenty years ago.

So why has this diet alleged trend confused, challenged and surprised me this time around? There doesn't seem to be much to confuse anyone in that approach does there? To answer the question, we must turn to Perilla on a lovely Saturday night where Mrs P, The Child and I were delighted to be joined by the Sister-in-law for dinner over our annual Christmas weekender. The s-i-l had enjoyed Perilla only a few weekends before and was so taken with it that she booked us a table before she had even finished her own meal! Under such a powerful recommendation, how could we go anywhere else?!

As is the nature of any pop-up restaurant the menu is under constant development with tweaks and changes happening on a very tight turnaround but from what we could see, Perilla clearly knew what they wanted to do and given the pedigree of the people behind the place you can see why. Ben Marks (formally of NOMA and The Square) and Matt Emmerson (manager of both Polpo and Polpetto) have serious credentials and when I say that Head Chef Ben is only 23 then you'll be forgiven for reviewing your own achievements and finding them somewhat lacking. The principle behind Perilla is described as informal fine dining. Certainly the venue at Platform 1 is anything but formal, the atmosphere is relaxed, the music is loud and dress code is non-existent. The bar has a great range of vino as well as cocktails often with housemade ingredients which more often than not come from the edible garden terrace out the back. So far, so 'modern Britain', I thought it was great.

So we know where they are, we know who they are and they know that they are good at what they do, but what is it exactly that they did do? First the flat bread with brown butter, served with a rosemary 'brush'. This was lovely, the s-i-l assured us that they were 'better last time' which would only convince me further that it was bloody brilliant.

We then moved on to 'Crisp Chicken Wing Stuffed with Mushroom', which at £1.50 seemed like an absolute bargain, so we ordered three. And then these arrived.

Suddenly 'bargain' wasn't quite the word I would use. Now don't get me wrong, they were crispy, chicken-y and absolutely delicious (although I'm not sure how much mushroom could have been stuffed into the 15mm by 15mm sandwich) but man alive, the value is certainly questionable*. Then we moved on to the starters and as there were three, we ordered... three.

First the cauliflower which was cooked effortlessly, beautifully and stylishly. The sauce was creamy, glossy and the cauliflower was treated with such skill as to demand the oohs and aahs that it elicited from those around the table. Top notch curding too and I don't like curd.

Then the duck egg with mussels was as green as the cauliflower was beige. The mussels were Michelin-ised by some very fine chopping and probably placed with tweezers or quinelled around one of the freshest duck eggs that has passed my lips. The green sauce was phenomenal and the whole bowl was rich with the adulterously thick yolk mingling with the salty mussel and the distinctive lovage. This was far and away my favourite of the lot.

Then there was the lettuce. Until now, grilled lettuce has for me, been the preserve of destined to fail Masterchef contestants and amusing anecdotes from other foodie friends. "Do you remember when we put the baby gem under the grill? Hahahaha, what were we thinking" etc etc. Now though, having tried the above bowl I can totally get it. Perhaps it was the cheese sauce, or maybe I had previously missed the point as it was, after all, still just various kinds of slightly burnt lettuce. To be honest, I don't really care because tasted absolutely cracking**.

Then came, what was described as the mains: mackerel, pork chop and the beans, again we ordered all three, but so engrossed with the conversation that I'm afraid you are left with only the following shot:

Beans in the foreground, then the sharing mackerel and finally the pork at the back. All were cooked magnificently with particular mention going to the perfectly cooked mackerel for being boned whole with the head still on when it came to the table. An absolute masterclass if ever I've seen one. The beans were creamy, well seasoned and happily layered under another scattering of greeny leaves and the pork with green sauce had been clearly selected for it's delicate proportions but what was there tasted very good indeed.

Puds were similarly expressed with a restrained cheese and toast number:

Which provided a brilliant balance of the salty, melty, cheesiness we needed along with those islands of honeyed grapes which were such a clever idea that I may even try to do it myself. 

We also had the poached pear which came in yet another green sauce and blended soft pear with tart, cooling creme fraiche and various herbage to give a very accomplished yet ultimately unimaginative dish. I'm afraid I just don't like the herb and pear combo, but that said, the others on the table were very complimentary.

The menu, on paper, was to feed three adults and The Child and certainly the s-i-l woke up the following day and decided against breakfast being as she was, still full from the night before. However, speaking for myself any meal that I finish being more hungry than when I started has some questions to answer. Despite fulfilling the Clean Eating brief, we were crying out for some kind of potato to help bolster the meal and the portion size simply wasn't going to cut it so we jumped at the chance after the meal when we were lucky enough to meet Ben and ask him about his style; he was really friendly and chatty as well as forthcoming in his skinny jeans, fitted t-shirt and fashionable haircut about the fact that he 'doesn't really like carbs'. Well, no kidding my disgustingly talented friend. 

Perhaps Clean Eating is for young Londoners who are already slim and maybe my dinner at Perilla is forcing me to admit that's just not me any more***, but I have no doubt at all that this team are well on course for Michelin stardom. Everything we ate here was executed incredibly well and bursting with freshness and the chefs absolute dedication to his craft. These dishes certainly have their place as part of a multiple tasting menu (with added potato please) and when considered against that Michelin star this menu absolutely represents value. But they don't have that star yet and so charging £1.50 for what is effectively a vol-au-vaunt (albeit a very nice one), is difficult to justify for those of use who live outside of the magical M25 circumference of expensification. 

So with all that being said, a total bill of £180 for three adults, a child and a very good bottle of wine is not extortionate by London standards, so I continue to count my lucky stars that my family live so close to so many different (and delicious) experiences. This may not be my favourite type of food but my God, this kid knows how to cook.




*that was the confusing bit.
**I was suitably surprised.
***now that's a challenge if ever I heard one.

Stew - the Corketts house

I never cook with dates, not because I don’t like them, but because I find them quite a one trick pony. I find that it’s difficult to use a date in any way other than as a cloying sweetener but then I was invited to a pre-christmas dinner party recently where a Middle Eastern inspired stew filled with dates, apricots and a variety of herbs and spices blended to a amazingly exotic cloud that bubbled away slowly in the corner. At first, I pretended not to notice but as the evening drew on and I got hungrier and hungrier I couldn’t hold myself back.

I hung around the stove looking longingly at the depths wondering if anyone would notice if I stuck a bit of bread or spare finger in to try it but I wasn’t left alone for long enough to find out. Instead I had to wait like everyone else, I mean seriously didn’t they know who I was…????!!!!

But worth the wait it was, deep, rich and moreish. I ran out of adjectives in the second mouthful and collapsed into simple grunts, moans and sighs. In my humble opinion, there is very little better than a stew lovingly prepared with time and thought to make the most out of the most humble of ingredients. That being said, there wasn’t much humble here; bobbing about in it’s bath of tomato, apricots, spices and those aforementioned dates, were huge chunks of beef fillet. Lamb, pork, rabbit or beef, I don’t care because I love a good stew. Beautifully soft and velvety, the gravy swirled around in thick whirlpools thanks in no small part to the use of those dates. Pockets of sweet fruitiness amid the savoury juices worked in amazing concert to bring what could have been a mere average dish alive. This was no restaurant dish, but instead it was something more. A hearty pan of sharing, conversation, laughter and meat which is the best way to eat pretty much anything in my opinion. 

The use of beef fillet was a little flamboyant for a stew perhaps, our host modestly conceded, but everyone around the table appreciated the extra effort as we consumed spoon after spoon of the softest, beefiest beef I’ve had for ages. And consume we did. That enormous vat fed nine of us with no left overs. But, when it came time to swap recipes as we chatted away the evening over the top of our fully satisfied bellies, our host suddenly became frustratingly tight lipped. Therefore and with no small amount of disappointment, I have no recipe for you all today, perhaps I can persuade them to give me a hint whilst enjoying a later date*.

*You see what I did there? Date the fruit and date the... date. I know, I amaze myself sometimes too.