Rib Shakk, Leeds

Anthony Finn is a name that is synonymous with the Leeds dining scene. Starting with his eponymous fine dining restaurant he has now expanded across the city with a patisserie, all day restaurant, canteen, champagne bar, bakery, fromagerie and now a Southern BBQ joint. The last six are all housed in The Corn Exchange, ... The Piazza cafe/restaurant in the light and open central area downstairs, the various other concessions tucked into the arches of the building.

On our recent trip North, to see family for Easter we visited the Exchange with my Uncle to buy some pungent cheeses for my Aunt. While browsing around the various little craft stalls set up there on Saturdays we noticed the Rib Shakk signs and stopped to check out the meaty menu. Ordinarily I don't get to experience too much of the local cuisine scene, being kept very well fed by my family of excellent cooks, but this trip we had a spare morning before driving home; a perfect opportunity to hit the place up for a final protein overload.

Being hidden away in the bowels of the building suits the dark, smoky atmosphere of the Rib Shakk, although it does make it somewhat difficult to negotiate. While customers waiting for the Piazza are lead to their tables by smartly waistcoated waiters, patrons of the Rib Shakk seem more likely to be wandering around, rather aimlessly, looking for the t-shirt clad staff. The concept is based on a simple, Nandosesque model; seat yourself, order and pay at the counter, grab your cutlery sauce etc. But lack of signage/visible staff on our visit made it all rather confusing at first.

The menu has all the usual suspects; baby backs and St Louis pork ribs; beef short ribs and dandy ribs; BBQ chicken wings; and sharing and combo platters, including a Boston butt with mustard BBQ sauce. There is even a Wall of Flames challenge. If you manage to finish a rack of ribs coated in an incendiary hot sauce then your bravery/stupidity will be rewarded by gratis food and drink and your photo posted on their wall.

Most interesting was the rib burger section; the 'burgers' are made from chunks of their slow cooked BBQ beef ribs and garnished with various sauces, salads and cheeses. Tempted as I was, the Ewing wanted ribs, so we decided to share a triple combo to get a sample of all three types.

The Ewing embraced the spirit by imbibing not one but two floats. The first was a classic Coke version; pretty good, if a metal beaker of fizzy, creamy froth does it for you. The second, made with cream soda, was ridiculously sweet and artificial tasting. Needless to say the Ewing loved it.

I stuck to PBR, refreshing blue collar workers and hipsters everywhere. The beer list has a fair selection; Dixie, Lone Star, Miller and the ubiquitous Bud. Hardly ground-breaking, but points for choice, being cold and being cheap.

The triple rib combo; an unholy mess of St Louis and baby back pork ribs, beef rib, BBQ beans, fries, coleslaw, corn and salad.  Despite being sat at a table for four, the giant wooden board, plus our drinks took up most the available table space. This meant precariously balancing our little saucer-sized plates in one corner and attempting to eat at a strange diagonal angle. Quite tricky if your gnawing on a sauce-smothered bone.

The food was fair to middling; the meat had been slow cooked but not smoked, meaning, while it was nicely tender, there was no real depth of flavour beyond the lake of sweet, generic BBQ sauce smothered over everything (they didn't ask me to specify a sauce, from the four available on the menu, when I ordered, but I assume this was the 'Classic Kansas City' version).

Surprisingly my favourite ribs were the baby backs, reminding me as they did of childhood trips up to Knightsbridge in the 80's, where we would don plastic bibs and eat racks of pork at the original Chicago Rib Shack. Nostalgia aside they were enjoyable, if nothing special. 

The St Louis version were meatier, but also much fattier too. Now I'm a big fan when it comes to pork grease, but even I found it a little too much. The 'ribs' were also very hard to separate, meaning we ended up shredding the meat like pulled pork. Served in a bun it could have made a nice porcine version of the rib burger concept.

The beef short rib; although she had her reservations the Ewing ended up eating most of this, despite being pretty saturated with meat and sugar at that point. After being slow cooked for seven hours the meat was meltingly soft, with a decent 'beefiness', but the sauce was too sweet and it lacked any penetrating smoke flavour to cut through the rich swathes of fat. Again it would have been good to see it showcased in a bun, with the crunch of salad, and a good shake of Cholula to really lift the flavours.

Sides were a mixed bag; fries were decent, and the corn and salad a nice change of pace after all the meat and potatoes. The coleslaw was good; decent chunks of crunchy cabbage in a rich, slightly cheesy (?), dressing, but the BBQ beans were disappointing. Huge piles of dry, mealy butter beans served in a thin BBQ sauce. Eating them seemed more like a relentless chore than a culinary experience. To be fair the Ewing bravely attempted to make inroads into them, even calling them 'quite nice', but they weren't.

From the pile of bare bones left at the end of our lunch you can see the Rib Shakk wasn't all bad, it just wasn't particularly good either. While the surroundings are nice, prices fair and the service (if a little unsure) friendly, the food was merely average. While it would be ideal for a lunch stop, or to meet with mates for some meat, underneath the sugary sauce coating it's sadly lacking the smoky soul of real 'cue.

The Crown, Bray

A couple of weeks ago our lovely friend Stealth came to stay for the weekend. Originally I was planning to finish Sunday dinner by attempting to recreate Heston Blumenthal's Banana Eton Mess. Caramelised banana, hazelnut praline, lime cream, what's not to like? Well, according to some of these reviews on the Waitrose website, quite a few things.... Slightly deterred I decided to leave it to the professionals, and so booked a table for Monday lunch at the Crown in Bray.

The second pub Heston now owns in the little Berkshire village (read about our visit to the Hind's Head here) The Crown seems the most informal of all his dining venues. Rickety and ramshackle in the best possible way I was pleased to see, (despite the blue skies and budding branches there was still a nip in the air) not one but two open fires roaring away as we arrived for our meal.

As seems to be an all too common theme on this blog, we were all feeling a little tender from the night before and were sorely in need of some proper pub grub to ease our aching heads and soothe our grumbling bellies. Gingerly sipping on lime and soda and sparkling water we may not have have been up to giving local ales the sampling they deserved, but we didn't let ourselves down when it came to sampling the food.

This is a proper menu full of things you want to eat. From the carbohydrate hug of pies, macaroni and burgers through to refined fish dishes, steaks and a sharing section featuring chilli and cornbread and cheese fondue. It's all decently priced too, with a set lunch and early evening menu ( two courses £12 or three for £15), being particularly good value.

Stealth's pork pie; no matter how much pretty veg and symmetrical blobs of pickle you use to jazz things up a good pie ultimately it comes down to jelly, lard and fatty, well seasoned, pork. Luckily all three were present and correct. A simple, fine beginning.

My leeks with taleggio and hazelnut crumble was a little more refined, but no less tasty for it. The leeks had been gently cooked before being smothered in melted cheese and a decent handful of herby, nutty, citrussy crumbs for a wonderful, crunchy contrast. The sort of dish whose simplicity and flavour makes you look at humble alliums in a new light. 

The Ewing's potted rabbit. This was excellent; the rabbit was potted with a decent amount of smoky fat that melted into the warm, crunchy toast, and was strewn with shards of crunchy sea salt and garlicky chives. The sweet chutney helped cut through the rich meatiness, and, had we been up to it, would have paired nicely with a good, hoppy pint of bitter. 

Now that's what I call a pie. Part two of Stealth's pie double-header; a beautifully burnished suet carapace, cradling chunks of steak and a rich ale gravy, nestled on a bed of smooth and fluffy potato. Not a dish for the faint-hearted, the pastry still managed to be beautifully light and crisp, the meat soft and tender.

Sometimes only fish 'n' chips will do. Usually this is the Ewing's default comfort food, I tend to favour a greasy burger, but on this occasion crispy batter, fluffy potatoes and a side order of minted peas was just the ticket. Although eating off a wooden plank never fills my heart with joy, it was so good I was soon distracted by slathering the flaky fish and crispy chips in tangy tartare sauce and chasing it all down with forkfuls of sweet pea.

The Ewing's hake with Jerusalem artichoke puree and kale. This was a pleasant plate of food, but lacked any real excitement. The fish was well cooked, the artichoke light and creamy and the whole thing topped with a giant, crispy shrimp, but overall I found it a bit bland and boring; as beige as the puree it sat on.

A far better jerusalem artichoke showing came from the pail of triple cooked wedges. These were crispy and salty on the outside, nutty and sweet within. A much underrated tuber.

Pudding time. Luckily they had the, by now fabled, Banana Eton Mess on the menu; trouble was every one wanted it. Where's the fun in eating your pudding if you can't reach over to swipe a mouthful of someone else's? After hearing us squabbling over who was going to order what the waitress reappeared to let us know there was a special Rhubarb Eton Mess on the menu; problem solved.

Stealth ended up choosing the rhubarb version, and wasn't disappointed. Strips of the dried fruit joined little cubes of poached rhubarb, heaps of whipped cream and little buttons of meringue. If that wasn't enough the lily was well and truly gilded with the shards of sweet honeycomb scattered on top. I love rhubarb and the sharpness of the fruit was the perfect foil for the sweet cream and meringue mixture.

The Ewing's Banana Mess, well worth the wait. There was a saltiness from the praline, but it was kept nicely in check by the sweet banana puree and lime-spiked cream. Slices of fresh banana and more mini meringues provided contrast and crunch. A proper pudding.

Although tempted by the two messes on the menu I was swayed by the Earl Gray panna cotta with lemon crumble. Although not the biggest fan of drinking Earl Gray tea I love the gently perfumed flavour in cakes and deserts, and this was no exception. The panna cotta was perfectly, barely set and gently slumped into the buttery shortbread crumbs as I prodded my spoon into it. The astringency of candied lemon peel set off the richness perfectly.

Our lunch at the Crown was a perfect piece of Middle England, in the best possible way. Good food, good service, good company and lovely surroundings. For those who equate Heston with crazy kitchen theatrics and crazy prices the Crown kitchen remains firmly down to earth, producing modest and delicious food with a bill to match.

After finishing our pots of tea and squeezing in a final home made chocolate chip cookie we staggered, sated down the lane to Monkey Island, an Agatha Christie-esque hotel situated down on the river bank. Here we spent the remainder of our afternoon enjoying the  dregs of Spring sunshine, waving at the boats sailing by and to attempting to avoid attack by the resident peacock. Perfect.

Brown Shrimp & Jamon Croquetas

The humble ham croquette. Ever since my first bar-hopping adventure through the streets of Madrid  years ago I have been enthralled by the little bites of gooey bechamel encased in a crispy crust. Like many things that seem glorious when enjoyed on holiday (ouzo, clove cigarettes and pickled cabbage that should have never made it onto the plane...) croquettas always seem to be a little greasy and heavy when eaten on this side of the Channel.

A notable exception (among a few) seems to be Jose Pizarro's tapas bar/restaurant in Bermondsey. I must confess I haven't made the schlep down South to try them yet, but my Twitter feed seems to be populated with pictures of his legendary croquettas and plates of pluma most weekends. Luckily he has been kind enough to share his secrets in his cookbook, 'Seasonal Spanish Food', so I decided to roll up my sleeves and give them a go at home (with a few little tweaks).

Other nations that have picked upon the appeal of the croquette include Belgium and Holland; on a recent trip to Amsterdam the Ewing and I sustained ourselves with visits to Febo, a burger, bitterballen and croquette purveyor that dispenses snacks from little, coin operated, hot cabinets. I may not have been too fussy about what I was eating at that point, but the parcels of molten veal and cheese were a joy.

The Belgians most famous version, croquettes aux crevettes grises, use the beautiful brown Atlantic shrimp for flavour. For my croquettas I decided to combine the saltiness of Serrano ham with the sweetness of the brown shrimp for a super, surf 'n' turf snack.

I found the whole process surprisingly easy, the only small problem coming from my bechamel that remained a bit on the liquid side, even when chilled, making rolling the croquettas rather tricky. Still, perseverance paid off and soon I had a tray of breadcrumbed beauties ready for their bath in hot oil.

Worrying that my finished balls may implode on contact with the heat of the fryer, I froze them on a baking sheet overnight (we didn't need them until the next day), and cooked them straight from frozen. Despite my mortal fear of cauldrons of boiling liquids in my kitchen, the whole thing passed by rather uneventfully and soon we had a mountain of croquettas; nicely burnished on the outside, with a properly gooey centre studded with shrimp and ham. Estupendo!

Brown Shrimp and Jamon Croquettas

4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1/2 small leek, or 3 spring onions, diced as small as possible
100g Serrano or other air-dried ham, diced very small 

100g brown shrimps (or small prawns, roughly chopped)
70g flour
200ml vegetable stock
300ml milk
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

50g flour
2 large free-range eggs, beaten
150g dried breadcrumbs (I used panko)

Olive or vegetable oil, for frying

Heat the olive oil in a pan, then add the leek or spring onion and sauté until soft, but not coloured.
Add the ham and cook for 5 minutes, then stir in the flour and cook over medium heat until the mixture is golden and the flour cooked through (8/10 minutes).
Combine the stock and milk in a pan and gently heat through.
Gradually whisk the warm liquid to the roux, a little at a time, stirring the mixture constantly to prevent lumps.

Once you have incorporated all the milk, continue to cook the sauce for about 10 minutes until it thickens and leaves the sides of the pan when you stir it. The roux must be very thick to prevent the croquettas liquefying as you roll/fry them.

Stir in the brown shrimp and taste for seasoning.
Smooth the sauce into a dish and cover with cling film to keep the mixture from drying out. Let cool before putting it in the fridge for at least an hour.
When you are ready to form the croquettes take three bowls, one with flour, one with beaten egg and the third with the breadcrumbs.
Take the sauce out of the fridge. Dust your hands with flour, make a walnut-sized ball with the ham mixture and roll it gently between your palms.
Roll the into the flour, followed by the egg and then the breadcrumbs.
Place the finished croquetas on a tray, when you have used up all the mixture place the tray in the freezer for about an hour (or longer).
Heat the oil to 180°F in a deep fat fryer, saucepan or wok and carefully fry the croquetas, a few at a time at a time, until they are golden all over (about 2/3 minutes each side).

Drain on kitchen paper and enjoy while piping hot, preferably with a cold beer.

Tuddenham Mill, Suffolk

When I was a young kid my Grandmother moved to deepest, darkest Norfolk. As a child this had many advantages; holidays spent in the arcade in Wells-Next-The-Sea, fish and chips on the beach and the Thetford Railway Museum being a few. As I got older the excitement paled, suddenly a three hour car drive and sleeping on the camp bed in the front room (and even, once, in the shed, imaginatively renamed 'the summer house' by my Nan) seemed less like a treat and more like a chore.

Luckily, despite living far apart, we've always remained close and, although it can sometimes seem hard to find time for a visit, I'm always glad when I do; not only do I get wonderful bacon sandwiches and endless cups of tea but there's now even accommodation at the local pub in the village, no more pumping up the air mattress after a few beers too many.

Yet nother exciting discovery, and the reason for this rambling family reminiscence, was finding out that Tuddenham Mill was a mere mile or so off the baten track from our usual route home. A perfect detour for an early lunch stop.

The Mill is a boutique hotel and restaurant, set in a charming old watermill in rural Suffolk, whose kitchen is helmed by gifted young chef Paul Foster; if you haven't heard of Foster yet you soon will, already OFM young chef of the year and Good Food Guide's up and coming chef 2011, he is set to feature in the Central heats of the new series of Great British Menu this summer, and certainly seems to be one to watch.

We started with some drinks and nibbles in the bar downstairs, opting for a bottle of fizz to go with our cheese straws and pork cracklings. Unfortunately, due to our heavy night the day before, it was only sparkling mineral water. The cracklings were lovely; ethereal and crispy with the merest hint of sweet pigginess and the straws were almost as good as my Nan's (another reason I love visiting her).

Having just devoured a full English we passed over the five course tasting menu for the more modest three course set lunch. Everything (bar my nemesis, the hen's egg) looked lovely, and despite the surfeit of black pudding and baked beans I recently eaten, I was very excited about our meal ahead.

The dining room; the mill stone and cogs are set into the middle of the floor, the water wheel turns behind the bar below.

Warm home baked rolls and butter; resistance was futile...

The meal kicked off with a little amuse bouche, of (if memory serves me correctly) a carrot foam with goats cheese and seeds. Initially I found this a bit odd, it was served very cold and the cheese didn't quite have the salty kick needed to lift the foam, but I as I continued to eat the delicate, sweet carrot flavour and the creamy crunch of the seeds started to come through. A subtle and refreshing start.

The sultanas appeared to absented themselves from my beautiful starter of the pork neck carpaccio with pig's head croquette, but extra pork cracklings created a delicious porky triumvirate on the plate that left them unmissed. The pork neck was thinly sliced so the silky, rich fat melted on the tongue and the croquettes were a masterful mixture of crispy breadcrumbs and succulent shreds of pig. The whole thing was perked up with the peppery radish slices and salad leaves.

The Ewing's mackerel with sea vegetables and beetroot; The confit mackerel flaked apart in wonderfully soft, delicate chunks. The oily flesh stood up well to the salty sea veg and nutty, crisped wild rice and, again, a little welcome peppery bitterness came from the crunch of radish.

The lamb rump served as my main course was beautifully tender, if a little mild-mannered in the taste department, but that was more than compensated for by the sticky cake of braised shoulder sitting alongside; a gorgeous tangle of sweet and tender slow-cooked meat. The wafer thin squash slices and potato were perfectly complemented by the cumin spice and the lactic tang of the yoghurt.

The Ewing's main was the hake with charred leek and potato. A delicate combination of sweet, salty and bitter. The crispy fish worked surprisingly nicely with the punchy beer pickled onions, and the floury chunks of potato were perfect crushed into the pool of gravy.

My pud of rhubarb and goats milk with crispy muesli was clean and refined in an understated way, a refreshing end following my meat-heavy menu. I enjoyed the interplay of textures and temperatures, and the rhubarb was perfectly tender, but it, and the goats milk sorbet served alongside it, were, again a little tame in the taste stakes, even with the jolt of fresh mint on top.

Packing far more of a punch was the Ewing's textures of chocolate, sea buckthorn and hazelnuts. On one side cubes of brownie, mousse and chocolate crumbs sat atop a rich ganache, while on the other was a mixture of nutty crumbs with the astringency of sea buckthorn. This was a decadent yet delicate pudding that left the Ewing, a committed chocoholic, in seventh heaven.

Coffee was served with some tasty petit fours; a chocolate truffle flavoured with alexanders, cubes of passionfruit jelly and a really good square of creamy, cumin-scented fudge.

Foster's food won't be for everybody; it's clever and pretty and ambitious, but it also challenges with its presentation and combinations of flavours and textures. None of this, however, felt like style over substance; from the locally foraged herbs and vegetables (including chicory, pennywort, alexanders and sea buckthorn) there is a real sense of place about his plates.

Although not especially cheap, for intricate, innovative cooking of this calibre it still seemed like decent value. And the dining experience was perfectly complemented by our two lovely waiters who, despite us being the only two guests dining for lunch, managed to be there when we needed them without being obtrusive.

So while I may have outgrown feeding the ducks on the village pond, and am too big for the aerial swing in the park, being old isn't all bad. I can now enjoy pints of Woodford's Wherry at my Nan's local and know that there's the perfect pit stop on the return journey home; fabulous food with a country charm. 

Pork and Lemongrass Sliders with Sesame Slaw

Yes, before anyone cares to comment this is not a true slider in its original sense, but more a mini burger, perfect for a party or a Saturday night in front of the TV. Although some people may be upset that the slider name has been appropriated by any small snack in a bun, including pot roast, chicken breasts, tuna and lobster, it's happened now, so we can all move on and instead marvel at these sweetly fragrant and spicy numbers, served with a sweet and sour crunchy coleslaw.

With a total absence of anything resembling a mini burger roll in town I decided the easiest course of action would be to make my own. Although not entirely perfect (they seemed a little dry and not fluffy enough) they were never the less a very decent vehicle for the spicy pork and mayo filling. (I used the other half of the bread dough to make some poppy seed-topped numbers which I stuffed with mounds of crispy bacon and ketchup, bliss.)

The coleslaw to serve alongside was a fresh and crunchy mixture of shredded red onion, white cabbage and carrot, topped with a sweet, hot chilli sauce, a splash of nam plaa, lime juice, salt and some brown sugar. All finished with a decent handful of toasted sesame seeds for a nutty crunch.

The patties themselves are adapted from a Nigel Slater recipe that I have served before with sprigs of mint and lettuce leaves to wrap them in. They would also be good with stir fried vegetables and noodles, as a sort of riff on spaghetti and meatballs.

While I think good beef patties should, as a general rule, be kept as simple as possible, pork and lamb can take a lot more flavouring and these are wonderfully fragrant with citrus and chilli spice. To keep the South East Asian flavours running throughout I flavoured the mayo with some Indonesian sambal oelek chili paste for a little extra kick. You could substitute with another chili paste, or a little chilli sauce.

Pork and Lemongrass Sliders with Sambal Oelek Mayo and Sesame Slaw

Serves 4

12 mini bread rolls - I used this recipe to make 20 small rolls (if you can't get mini rolls, or don't have time to make these then use larger rolls and adjust the patty size accordingly)

Half a white cabbage, shredded

1 red onion, finely sliced

2 carrots, grated

Good squeeze of hot, sweet chilli sauce

2 tsp brown sugar

2 tsp fish sauce

2 tsp toasted sesame oil

Juice of a lime

1 tsp salt

1 tbsp toasted sesame seeds

Chives to garnish

3 heaped tbsp mayonnaise (shop bought is fine)

1 tbsp sambal oelek chilli paste

500g pork mince

Zest of a lime

1 clove of garlic, crushed

1 stalk of lemongrass, outer leaves discarded and very finely sliced.

1 red chilli, finely chopped

4 spring onions, roughly chopped

Salt and black pepper

Small bunch of coriander

Lime wedges to garnish

Place the onions, carrots and cabbage in a large bowl. Add the chilli sauce, sugar, fish sauce, lime juice, sesame oil and salt.

Stir the ingredients together thoroughly and leave for about an hour for the flavours to marry together.

Place the pork mince in a bowl, add the zest, garlic, lemongrass, chilli, spring onion and seasoning and mix well.

Shape the mince into about 12 small patties, roughly the same size as your bread rolls.

Fry the patties in a hot pan for approximately 4 minutes each side, or until crispy on the outside and cooked through.

Mix the mayonnaise and sambal oelek paste together and spread on both halves of the bread roll.

Place a pork patty on top of the bottom half of the roll, top with coriander leaves and finish with the top half of the bun.

Serve with the sesame slaw and extra lime wedges.