Bucks bites: batter up

I’m not quite sure why the global schnitzel/escalope/tonkatsu phenomena hasn’t taken off on these shores. Sure, we have nuggets and kievs and breaded chicken strips (a box of 5 Maccy D’s Selects, with sour cream dip, is my new jam), but a flattened piece of meat, bread crumbed and fried, still remains elusive. And what isn't better breadcrumbed and fried.

After visiting Australia a few times to see my family, I'm often asked ‘why don’t you move there?’ To which I reply the weather (I’d melt); the history (I love old stuff, just ask my wife…); and the football (have you seen the A League…). 

But, as well as the fam, when I get back home I do miss being able to get a schnitty at the pub. Even if you have to drink your grog in schooners. For me it’s a near perfect pub meal, something you wouldn’t make at home – a proper schnitzel really requires shallow frying and involves much mess with all the double-dipping and dredging – and is also perfect to soak up the booze.

The Poles have a rich history of beating and breading things, which has made Syrena my second favourite place to go and eat in High Wycombe (almost next door to Dosa Special, which still remains my absolute favourite). 

It's a simple set up with a handful of tables, a counter at the back where you order and pay, and a short menu which includes both pork and chicken schnitzels (and sometimes a special of a breadcrumbed minced meat cutlet), which you can also order topped with cheese and mushrooms. 

I’m not always a traditionalist, but haven’t looked past the classic pork yet. The cutlets are crisp and hot and greaseless, with the thin carapace of breadcrumbs perfectly billowing up from the tender meat as they are fried to order.

Although the escalope covers most of the plate, there’s still room for a couple of scoops of potatoes, that exist somewhere in that perfect place between boiled and mash and strewn with dill. Salad won’t fit, so comes on the side. Normally two different types that may include their excellent coleslaw, beetroot, sauerkraut or pickled cucumbers.

The schnitzel topped with a layer of sauteed mushrooms and a layer of melted cheese is served with fries, garlic sauce and salad and is also pretty great, if not quite as great as the classic version. It's certainly a good post-pub choice (as the restaurant closes at 8, it would have to be an afternoon session).

Another favourite are tender slices of roast neck of pork that come with Silesian dumplings; bouncy potato dumplings traditional to the Upper Silesia region of Poland with a distinctive depression made with a thumb for gravy. The dumplings, which are similar to gnocchi, are boiled in salted water before being covered in the aforementioned gravy. Proper rib-sticking stuff that is especially good with their braised sweet red cabbage.

When we took Stealth along for dinner, she had one of her favourites, beef goulash. I think her favourite is still Mummy P's beef stroganoff, but she still seemed very happy with her choice. The beef and red pepper stew, with its deep paprika-spiked gravy, comes with buckwheat - an underrated grain that doesn't get the love it deserves.

Homemade deserts include pancakes served with sour cream and sugar - they can also be ordered as a savoury course with mushroom gravy or goulash - and crepes with cheese jam or Nutella. They also have a glass cabinet, like the ones my sister and I would press our noses up against when on holiday as children, with a variety of cookies, choux buns, brownies and waffles.

Even though I'm still off the sweet stuff, I have sampled their 'cheesecake' on several occasions before the sugar ban. I use the word loosely, as it's a behemoth featuring a pastry base, a fluffy cream cheese filling and a layer of fruit (I've tried plum and apricot), before being topped with a layer of crisp meringue. Unsurprisingly it's also very, very good. In fact, the only way to improve it would be to roll it in breadcrumbs and fry it.

More tea, vicar?

Last weekend saw most of us Brits basking in a long bank holiday; the second in May and the fifth of the year so far. Sadly, this is where it all goes downhill, as the next one isn’t until the fag end of August (Boo-hiss! - TE). Although I hear Labour are promising an extra four BH in their election manifesto (where's my poll card? - TE). First week in October sounds good (coincidentally also around my birthday), if you’re listening, Jezza (and first week in May...oh I forgot, I've already got one...TE).

Anyway, while I’m still basking in the joy of a four day week, it seems an apt time to take a break from my American adventures and write about one of my favourite ways to spend a sunny Sunday/bank holiday Monday; partaking in a cream tea in the Hughenden Valley.

Being lucky enough to have the Hughenden Estate on our doorstep, the Ewing and I - and on occasion the magical Stealth - can perennially be found traipsing around the fields and woods for various reasons. If it’s snowing, there’s normally a hip flask involved; spring is the perfect time to collect elderflowers for homemade cordial; and in autumn we head for the hedgerows laden with blackthorn bushes, to collect sloes for the annual batch of gin.

If that doesn’t sound quintessentially English enough (or like a bad version of the Good Life), on Sundays and Bank holiday Mondays between Easter and the end of October, St Michael and All Angels' Church also offer afternoon cream teas.

Adjacent to Hughenden Manor, the Grade II listed church is 12c in origin, but almost completely rebuilt in 1875. The interior impressively boasts a pulpit carved by Thomas Earp, floor tiles designed by Edward William Godwin and stained glass windows by Thomas Willement, and Clayton and Bell. Well worth a visit if you’re interested in the Victorian Gothic style. Or, if like me, you just enjoy poking about an old church on a sunny afternoon. My transformation to Officially Old is now well underway.

It’s also the final resting place of Benjamin Disraeli, who bought the Manor in 1848. While protocol did not permit her to attend the funeral, a memorial to Disraeli was erected by Queen Victoria on the north side of the chancel following his death. The only memorial to be erected by a reigning monarch to a commoner.

Anyway, I always save looking around the church for afterwards, always being in far too much of a hurry to race up the path to the church cottage next door, home of the aforementioned teas. You can eat inside but, if you’ve picked your day carefully, sit on the patio or in the lower walled garden, where you also get wonderful views of the church and across the Valley.

Normally the magical Stealth accompanies us, but on this most recent visit we were sadly without her company. While the quality of the conversation was diminished somewhat (you mean, one sided - TE), I was looking forward to actually being able to eat a whole slice of cake to myself. Until I remembered I was with my wife; and I had ordered chocolate cake…. Oh well, sharing is caring, although I notice it’s not quite as forthcoming in reverse (blah, blah, blah - TE).

For me it’s the perfect cream tea: a scone with cream and jam, a pot of tea and a slice of cake. All baked and served by the most wonderful volunteers and all still for a fiver in all the year’s we have been coming. The profits from the teas help to support the church and maintain Church House, and you can also leave a donation and buy copies of their recipe booklet, which I think the Ewing is currently building a stockpile of.

The cakes are all homemade and, certainly the ones I’ve tried, have all been wonderful. Proper slices of old fashioned loaf cake, slabs of tray bakes, and wedges of sponge in rotating flavours but sure to include a selection of classics including lemon drizzle, lime and ginger, victoria sponge and old fashioned fruit cake.

On our last visit my chocolate cake (there was also a fat-free version, which I politely declined, as nice as I’m sure it was…) was slathered in thick chocolate buttercream that shone in the afternoon sun and proved irresistible to the magpie-like attentions of my wife. Her slice of coffee and walnut may have been even better; the most fluffy of sponges with two different icings -  sandwiched with coffee buttercream and glazed with a carapace of coffee water icing - that showed commendable attention to detail.

But to enjoy tea here is more than just the sum of its cakes and perfectly risen scones adorned with clumps of clotted cream and raspberry jam (#creamfirst). It’s a place that feels so perfectly peaceful and welcoming; a spot untroubled by the world raging outside and immune to the passing of time. I very rarely feel patriotic, feeling these things essentially boil down to an accident of birth, but sometimes I do feel terribly lucky to be British. 

To be sat, peacefully in the church garden, red kites circling in the clear blue sky and the faint strum of a petrol mower in the distance. Even the enjoyment of fighting over the last forkful of cake with your nearest and dearest, though you know you’re going to come off second best, before the slow, contented tramp through the fields back home.

Curry favour - Kappad

I can’t work out if I’m more loyal to my favourite places as I grow older, or if discovering new stuff just seems more exhausting. Take Indian food, for example. After diligently trying pretty much all the restaurants in town, I’ve finally decided when it comes to South Indian/Sri Lankan, my favourite remains Dosa Special (now into its third incarnation since I started visiting, but still with the same chef and the same peerless food). While for North Indian/Pakistani it’s Chutney, where I take all Antipodean exiles when they come to visit. They may have significantly better weather, but they still have significantly worse curry.

So it was with some trepidation I saw a new restaurant was opening on High Wycombe’s high street, offering Keralan coastal cuisine. Part of me was excited that the number of places in town offering thalis could now fill the fingers of one hand (if you’re in the Simpsons), but part of me felt that slight lurch of irrational irritation that my curiosity meant I’d feel obliged to at least try it out (probably several times), especially as I walk past twice daily. Even if it was only to discover it wasn’t up to the good old tried and tested. Yeah, I know, it’s a tough life.

My first visit was for lunch with work colleagues just before Christmas. All of us imbued by the heady charm of the festive lead-up where you take any excuse to trade the curled up sandwich at your desk for something a little more joyous - maybe involving a festive half…. Although this time I chose the strawberry juice over a bottle of Cobra, despite the latter already having a proved effect of increased joy. The juice was pretty cheery, though, and certainly made the afternoon a little easier.

At lunch, alongside the al la carte menu, they also offer a special curry of the day (meat or veg) or the Kaapad lunch, a platter with a variety of different curries, chutneys, rice and a dosa. For seven quid it would be pretty churlish to complain, even less so when everything was excellent - especially the coconut chicken curry and the fluffy basmati rice -  if a little delicately spiced for a masochist like me. 

My second visit was a post-Christmas lunch with the Ewing and Stealth. Normally a time for parsimony and restraint, we were soon ordering rounds of large bottles of Cobra. January looks so much better from the bottom of a glass. Especially if it’s had a cold beer in it.

Unsurprisingly our drinks also went very well with our selection of beer snacks – a variety of fried bits and pieces including plantain and ornate curls of spiced rice batter, served with a selection of chutneys and sauces. A step up from standing in your dressing gown, scooping lime pickle straight from the jar onto some slightly stale poppadums, which I may or may not have been known to do.

The prawn masala was good; decent prawns, served in a decent number (although there’s never really enough prawns in a prawn curry) with a decent, coconut garlic and ginger-flecked sauce. Hard to get too excited over; would happily eat again. Maybe not a ringing endorsement given I would happily eat most things again, as long as they hadn’t made an unfavourable future appearance or contain boiled eggs. Or both.

On ordering the ‘chicken stew’- chicken cooked in a creamy coconut sauce with carrot, beans, spiced with black pepper, ginger, cloves and curry leaves - the waiter asked if we wanted any chillies in it. Now I realise some people like their food without tears, but it also seemed slightly odd to have something, even with the extra chillies, so toothless on the menu.

It wasn’t that it was bad by any means, just that it was so delicate it seemed to lack any spice at all. Perhaps it's my jaded taste buds but it resembled the creamy filling of a pot pie, the kind of thing created on Food Network by a farmer’s wife from the mid-west, assisted by her brood of children while her ruddy-cheeked husband is out ploughing the fields. (pioneer woman! - TE).

Whatever appeal the kappayum meenum - fish curry with boiled tapioca - lacked on paper (an odd-sounding combination, with the latter addition bringing to mind lumpy school dinners), it made up for by being the dish of the day. The sauce was similar to the prawn curry, but worked even better with the chunks of white fish, while the tapioca was less like frogspawn and more like a root veg mash that had been infused with turmeric and mixed with grated coconut.

Alongside we ate appams, the spongy lentil pancake with a slightly sour taste which is good, but not as good as a paratha or a peshwari naan. And side dishes of okra (officially now my favourite veg to be served in an Indian style  - sorry saag - and rice tossed with lemon , curry leaves and chilli which was fragrant and fluffy in a way that my rice has never been, and probably never will. Still, a good excuse to keep getting takeout to avoid the inevitable disappointment.

While everybody knows that Indian deserts both simultaneously make your teeth ache and smell like the dish full of bits of dead flowers on your Nan’s sideboard, of course the Ewing still wanted to try one.

In fairness the pineapple kesari -  a syrup-soaked cake made of semolina, blended with fresh pineapple, cashew nuts and raisins served warm with vanilla ice cream - was really pretty tasty. Although Stealth was happy to stick with a liquid pudding.

While I'm not sure it quite scales the dizzy heights of my favourite spot, many may want to disagree with me and it already seems to have a fervent fan base of locals. Which is handy, as my fave only has four tables, and I want to make sure I can still get served. Kappad is certainly the slicker choice, if you're looking to impress, and also boasts both an alcohol licence and a loo. Quite useful if you've drunk as many beers as we did.

A Festive Test

It's the most wonderful time of the year; a time to eat drink, be merry, get heartburn and have an argument. And, with this in mind, I devised a Festive Test Treat that would cunningly tick all of the above. A visit to our, newly opened, local carvery for three courses - all featuring the mighty, and clearly on-trend, yorkshire pudding - all drenched in lashings of faint regret and gravy.

Things started reasonable promisingly, with a decent selection of ale. Being a Marston's pub, the range featured a selection from their stable including Hobgoblin, Ringwood and Pedigree amber ale. I went with the, seldomly seen so far south, Sneck Lifter, from Jennings Brewery based in Cumbria. A traditional dark bitter, perfect for a wintery afternoon.

I had ordered the carvery as my main and was handed a golden ticket to the gravy train, with a promise the staff would alert us when the Ewing's main was nearly ready to leave the kitchen. So we sat back and relaxed with our pints, while fifty per cent of us watched Spurs put five past Stoke on Final Score and fifty per cent of us tried to solve a remote work-related incident involving a malfunctioning automatic door, both over the screams of the children running amok around our table. All pointers to a great day out.

Just as a member of staff appeared to give us the heads up that the rest of the food was on the way, another arrived with the rest of the food. All of it; our 'sharer' starter and the Ewing’s main. After rearranging the space on the table to fit the plates, a confused voice piped up; ‘are there two, or three of you', while we all turned a stared at my Tottenham beanie, occupying the empty seat next to me. 

Not that our confirmation of the former had any bearing anyway, as both staff vanished as quickly as they had appeared, leaving us with a surfeit of batter-based products and some sympathetic/horrified (delete as appropriate) looks from the tables around us at the mountain of food in front of us. Well, I had promised it would be a test, just not of my wife's patience.

I’m still not really sure whether it’s better or worse to assume that our invisible friend wanted to take down a whole camembert, rather than it being an appetite sharpener, but I was thankful the carvery call hadn’t been more timely as it gave me the chance to fully concentrate on the cheese. 

This proved a lucky thing, as congealing camembert in a Yorkshire pudding is as tough to eat as it sounds, although also delicious, especially when paired with the random handful of trail mix that adorned it. I'm not sure the warm and wilted leaves were adding much though, other than a metaphor for an overriding sense of wilted despondency.

The Yorkshire wrap was a behemoth of a pudding, stuffed with a whole roast dinner, before being carefully rolled up in grease proof paper adorned with faintly nauseating faux dictionary definitions of made-up words like 'hyper delicious'. With nothing to compare it to, the Ewing proclaimed it pretty good, if a little unwieldy to eat. As is the issue with many wraps, it also suffered from unfilled ends, but they did provide a bonus jug of gravy for dunking.

As there was already roast potatoes nestled in the wrap, they decide to serve it with a wholly superfluous - but actually very tasty – pile of chips and, even more randomly, ramekins of mushy peas and pickled cabbage. While I love mushy peas, here they provided a distracting sweet gloopiness; the pickled cabbage however, was pretty inspired, bringing some well needed crunch and tang. 

The carvery was everything a carvery should be; a hammy guy serving slices of ham with a smile (I also tried turkey, but skipped the dangerously desiccated beef in case we drew more attention to ourselves when the Ewing has to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre). Add oversized yorkies, overcooked carrots, ladles of gluey gravy (which tasted surprisingly good), squares of rubbery stuffing, decent roasties, and a wan but tasty cauli cheese, and it was all I ever wanted. Seriously. And a veritable bargain at £6.45.

The fun didn't finish there, as I insisted we stayed to sample the delights of the 'zingy raspberry yorkshire pudding sundae'. A potential aberration that tasted far better than it sounded. In fact, I'd go so far to say I really enjoyed it; a nostalgic mix of Mr Whippy van sauce, fresh cream and ice cream, crowned with strips of pud (which actually worked) and garnished with disc of diabetes. Even the Ewing smiled; although that may have been the constant supply of Sneck Lifter I was bribing her with.

Overall the whole experience was just like a microcosm of the festive season - crying babies, over-indulging, too much beer and a roller coaster of emotions, from elation to despair. All over the space of a few hours. Plus bonus yorkshire puddings. Pretty perfect really. Happy Christmas, one and all, see you on the other side; have fun and don't forget the Rennies.

Wycombe bites: The Works

In anticipation of our extended holiday to the Southern hemisphere - to meet the latest addition to the clan and celebrate an auspicious birthday – I’ve given up booze and sugary stuff and pretty much anything worth eating or drinking. It’s boring, and joyless, and I’ve already found myself having a two-pint Guinness lunch ‘cos it’s St Patrick’s Day’ and eating a steak and kidney pudding for breakfast ‘just because’.

Thankfully, as the salad-eating regime has been less than half-hearted on occasion, there's still been plenty of opportunities to support the Works, the latest indie offering on Wycombe’s high street. With its selection of - temporarily verboten - ice creams, cookies, pancakes, waffles and milkshakes, and their lovely staff who bring a little extra sweetness to the proceedings.

It’s not all kid’s stuff, with a drinks menu that includes beers such  as the peerless Beavertown Gamma Ray and Meantime, boozy shakes, cider, wine and champagne. The prosecco comes on tap and can be ordered with a variety of different fruity adornments or even with their homemade sorbet for a decidedly grown-up slushie. Perfect for taking pictures of people taking pictures for Instagram.

After visiting their original branch in Aylesbury for a deliciously ostentatious golden Ferrero Rocher ice cream sundae the Christmas before last, their most recent festive offerings included a turkey dinner, complete with stuffing, bacon and cranberry sauce, stuffed inside a Belgian waffle. As much as I love the combination of sweet and savoury, I would have preferred the advertised gravy rather than a slick of maple syrup across the top. Otherwise, top marks.

Other fillings I’ve enjoyed, which can be served on either a freshly made waffle or crepe, include chorizo and roasted pepper; classic mozzarella, mushroom and spinach; and a dissected hot dog with beef chilli, jalapenos and onions (undocumented as I was sitting next to my boss while I was eating it, trying to avoid the inevitable grease stains down my shirt and salad in my teeth).

As good as the savoury offering are, and most are pretty good, it’s impossible to ignore the fridge filled with a cornucopia of different coloured gelato as you walk in. Available as individual scoops, with a variety of customisable toppings, or bring your appetite (or a a friend) and try one of their sundaes, which can all also be ordered on top of a waffle of crepe.

While there are a myriad of different combinations, including banoffee pie, hot apple caramel crumble and eton mess, my favourites are choc-based. Although a minor criticism is the low melting point of some of the flavours I’ve tried, notably the chocolate which seems to liquefy before you’ve stuck your spoon in the sundae glass. A small trade-off for such light and creamy gelato, I suppose, but dig-in quick (not a problem if you're with the Ewing) if you don’t want to drink your desert.

One of the ‘firmer’ flavours - and now a firm favourite after trying (several) helpings when they had their recent pound a scoop promotion – is the Peanutella, peanut ice cream swirled with a ribbon of melted chocolate and whole nuts. This is genuinely one of the best ice creams I have eaten and is particularly good in the Nutty Professor sundae; with pistachio and chocolate ice creams, toffee sauce and extra nuts; or, even better, served as an affogato with a double espresso.

Not only is it torturous that I frequently have to walk past, I now see on social media that their range of gelato has been joined by a salted peanut butter chocolate pretzel flavour and they have a new Easter Egg Hunt sundae on waffle - topped with gelato, whipped cream, Malteser bunnies, Creme Eggs and a 'surprise'. Maybe there's time for one last blowout before I have to fit into my beach wear...