The first thing to be noted is that, without prefix, an egg will always refer to those of a chicken. We, in the UK consume a staggering 11 billion eggs a year, produced by a massive brood of 29 million registered laying hens.

It is the unique nutritional make up of the egg that makes it so versatile and appealing to humans. It can probably be presumed that our ancestors somewhere far down the Darwinian line began raiding the nests of birds, drawn there by the protein-rich jewels the birds were sitting on. The egg is made up of a high density of both protein and fat. The white offers all the benefits of fatless protein to all the diet maniacs, while the yolk provides high levels of fat, along with a rich amount of protein, perfect for adding stability to all manner of cooking.

So, how to tell a good egg, and why it’s important? On appearance a good egg is normally medium in size and has a more defined conical shape. This appearance suggests that the egg was laid by a young foul. Their youth, smaller size and tighter muscles are more adept at the arduous process of egg production. Of course, this description is subjective and may differ with the natural idiosyncrasies of species.

As soon as the egg is laid, it begins to degenerate in quality until it becomes rotten. This means newer laid eggs are better than old ones. The age of an egg can be tested by immersing it in a glass of salted water. A very fresh egg (up to one week old) will stand on its end pointing to the top of the glass. A medium aged egg (one to two weeks) will float about halfway up the glass, on its side. An old egg (anything up to three weeks) will bob around on the surface of the salted water.

As explained further along in the article, certain methods of egg cooking necessitate a fresh egg. The quality and appearance of both poached and fried eggs is dependent upon the freshness of the main ingredient. So it follows that fresh eggs should be used for frying and poaching. Medium aged eggs should be used for scrambling and boiling, whilst the oldest eggs should be used for baking.

Below we have attempted to cover the major bases of egg cooking. From boiling to baking, if you can master the following recipes you can consider yourself a true Eggspert. (Sorry, had to be done)

Boiled Eggs

Perfect boiled eggs are extremely easy. There are many quoted ways of boiling an egg, but for FTLOL there are only three rules to follow for consistently perfect eggs:

Start with eggs at room temperature.

Pierce a small hole into the top of the shell with a pin.

Place the eggs directly into boiling water using a spoon.

For a medium egg, if you want it soft boiled cook it for 5 minutes, if you want it hard boiled, cook for 10 minutes.

An excellent tip for peeling eggs is to immediately immerse them in cold water. This helps the shell to slightly come away from the white. It must be noted that very fresh eggs will always be hard to peel.

Poached Eggs

There are so many different methods, rumours and old wives’ tales that surround the poaching of eggs. From the addition of vinegar to leaving eggs at the back of the fridge for an hour, FTLOL has heard of most and tested several. There is some truth to many of these methods; however the overriding factor when cooking a perfect poached egg is the freshness of the egg itself.

If an egg is fresh, it will automatically hold itself together when dropped into water. Poaching for 3-4 minutes will deliver a gloriously warmed through, but liquid yolk.

If a less than fresh egg must be used, then we have found that a couple of glugs of white wine vinegar, allied with a vortex in the water, created by vigorous stirring, leads to the best results. That said, we would suggest eating a boiled egg, omelette or scrambled egg instead.

Fried Eggs

As it seems with all forms of oeuf cuisine, a single method of cooking can cover a wide scope of variations.

For us at FTLOL, a fried egg should be fried in oil and butter over a medium/high heat. Once the butter is lightly foaming, crack in the egg, holding it for just a short pause while the yolk sets and centres itself in the white. Leave the egg to cook at this heat for about 3 minutes. This will cook through the white from the frying pan up. It is a personal preference to cook the white at such a heat, and for such a time that it develops a brown and crisp frill, whilst choosing not to spoon hot fat over the yolk to cook the thin layer of enveloping white through.

The perfect fried egg should serve not only as an addition to other meal components, but also as a delicious meal in its own right.

Omelettes

“As everybody knows, there is only one infallible recipe for the perfect omelette: your own.” Elizabeth David.

There is something so comforting and reliable about an omelette. Whether your choice is a Tabasco-doused version in an American diner or the delicate baveuse texture of a classic omelette from L’Hotêl Poulard, the simplicity of beaten eggs cooked in fat is a perfect dish.

Although methods may differ, we suggest using a non-stick, heavy-based 20cm pan for all of the following recipes. You may also find a heatproof spatula very useful. We have taken three main types of omelette and given, what we believe to be, a good recipe to use as a guideline.

Omelette aux Fines Herbes – serves 1

Ingredients

Knob of butter

3 x eggs

1 tsp chervil, finely chopped

1 tsp chives, finely chopped

Salt and pepper, to taste

Method

Heat a good non-stick frying pan over a medium/high heat and add the butter.

Crack the eggs into a bowl, whisk until well mixed and season. Once the butter is lightly foaming add the eggs.

Move the eggs around the pan, ensuring that they don’t stick. Once the egg has reached a slightly stiff scrambled egg stage, turn the heat off. Leave in the pan to set for about 10 seconds, fold the omelette over itself and then sprinkle with the chopped herbs.

American/English Omelette – serves 1

Ingredients

Knob of butter

½ x tomato, deseeded and finely diced

3 x eggs

2 x slices ham

50g Cheddar cheese, grated

Salt and pepper, to taste

Method

Heat a good non-stick frying pan over a medium/high heat and add the butter.

Crack the eggs into a bowl, whisk until well mixed and season. Once the butter is lightly foaming, add the diced tomato. Fry for 1 minute before adding the eggs. Move the eggs around the pan ensuring that they don’t stick to the bottom.

Once the egg has reached a stiff scrambled egg stage, scatter the cheese all over it. Lay the two slices of ham on top. Continue to cook the omelette over the heat for approximately one more minute. Turn the heat off.

Flip the omelette over in half. The bottom should be golden and a little crisp. Leave for a little while in the pan to ensure the cheese is melted before serving.

Spanish Omelette – serves 4

Ingredients

4 tbsp olive oil

1 x medium potato, peeled and very finely sliced

½ x onion, peeled and very finely sliced

Splash of water

1 x courgette, washed and grated

1 tbsp butter

6 x eggs

Watercress, to serve

Salt and pepper, to taste

Method

Heat half the oil in a good non-stick frying pan over a low/medium heat. Add the potatoes and onions and cook, turning periodically, for about 20 minutes until they are tender and slightly caramelised. If necessary, add a splash of water to speed up cooking time.

Add the courgette to the pan and continue to cook for a further 5 minutes. Increase the heat to medium/high.

Crack the eggs into a bowl, whisk until well mixed and then season. Add the butter to the pan and melt before adding the eggs to the pan. Move the eggs around ensuring they don’t stick to the bottom. Keep the eggs moving until they begin to thicken, this should take about 3-4 minutes. Cook for a further 2-3 minutes to colour and set the base.

Once the base has set and is easily pulled away from the sides, take the omelette off the heat. Place a plate that is larger than the pan face down on top of the frying pan. With one hand firmly on the plate, flip the frying pan upside down. The omelette should drop onto the plate. Place the frying pan back on to a medium/high heat and add the remaining olive oil.

Carefully slide the omelette back into the hot frying pan. Cook the omelette for 3-4 minutes until the bottom is golden and the centre almost cooked through. Slide the omelette onto a chopping board, top with watercress and serve in chunks – Delicious hot or cold.

Asparagus with Crispy Fried Duck’s Egg – serves 1

Ingredients

1 x duck egg, soft poached and cooled in ice cold water

50g flour, seasoned

1 x egg, beaten

50g panko breadcrumbs. (If not panko, then nice, dry breadcrumbs)

Sunflower oil, to deep fry

1 x shallot, peeled and finely diced

3 tbsp light olive oil

1½ tbsp sherry vinegar

8 x asparagus spears, trimmed and boiled until just tender, drained and kept warm in pan

Method

Dust the poached duck egg in the flour before dipping it in the beaten egg and then rolling it in the breadcrumbs. It is important to ensure a good covering of crumbs on the egg.

Heat the oil over a medium/high heat until it reaches about 180°C/350°F. You can test the temperature by tossing a few of the breadcrumbs into the oil. If the temperature is right, they should begin to fry instantly and rise to the top. Place the egg gently into the oil and fry for about 3 minutes, until the breadcrumbs are golden brown. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain on kitchen roll.

Mix together the olive oil and the sherry vinegar. Add the shallot. Spoon the vinaigrette over the warm asparagus. Serve immediately with the crisp egg.

Soufflé Pain Perdu – serves 2

Ingredients

2 x eggs, separated

1/2  tbsp caster sugar

3 tsp good quality vanilla extract

4 x medium sliced bread, crusts removed

Strawberry jam

1 tbsp sunflower oil

Knob of butter

Icing sugar, to serve

Method

Place the egg yolks in a bowl with the sugar and the vanilla extract. Whisk the yolks and sugar together vigorously for about 1min until the mixture becomes pale and slightly velvety. In a separate bowl, whisk the egg whites until they reach a soft peak.

Beat half of the egg whites into the yolk mix before lightly folding through the remaining half.

Spread two of the slices of bread with strawberry jam. Place another slice of plain bread on top of each to form sandwiches. Cut these in half, along the diagonal.

Heat the oil and butter over a medium heat in a non-stick pan. Once the butter is foaming, dip the triangles into the batter and place directly into the pan. Cook the battered sandwiches on all sides for approximately 1 minute per side. Drain on kitchen roll before serving dusted with icing sugar.

Custard Tart – This recipe is based on a large 25cm tart case with a depth of 4½ cm

This is the best custard tart that we have been able to produce. The most important part of this recipe, and unfortunately the one that can only be perfected through repetition is how long to set the custard for. You are ultimately aiming for a slice of the tart to have a pronounced wobble whilst not oozing to pieces. The best result is to remove the tart when the surface produces a wobble akin to the tenacity of a bounced upon trampette when shaken lightly.

Ingredients

For the pastry base:

400g plain flour

60g icing sugar

200g butter, cubed and cold

1 x lemon, zest only

2 x eggs beaten

For the custard filling:

12 x egg yolks

1 vanilla pod, seeds only

190g caster sugar

750ml double cream

Fresh nutmeg

Method

For the pastry base:

Pre-heat your oven to 180°C/350°F/Gas Mark 4.

Place the butter, flour, icing sugar and lemon zest into a food processor. Using the pulse button, combine the ingredients until they take on the appearance of fine breadcrumbs. Add half of the beaten egg mixture and pulse again. The mix should just be coming together. Add half of the remaining egg and pulse again. At this point it may be necessary to add the rest of the egg, depending on how well the pastry has combined.

Tip the mix on to a clean work surface. Begin to bring together the pastry, working it lightly until you have a smooth paste. Cover with cling film and place in the fridge for 20 minutes.

Remove the pastry from the fridge. Roll out to a thickness of 3-5mm. Line the tart case, overlapping the edges of the case with the pastry. Refrigerate for another 20 minutes. Remove from the fridge and line the pastry with either strong cling film or greaseproof paper. Fill with baking beans*. Place in the oven and blind bake for about 25 minutes, until the overlapping edges have turned a dark golden hue. Remove from the oven and take out the baking beans. Return to the oven for a further 10 minutes until the base has completely cooked through. Be sure that the base does not soufflé – decrease the temperature to about 160°C/315°F/Gas Mark 2½ if necessary.

Once the case is cooked, remove onto a wire rack. With a sharp knife, cut around the edge of the tart case to give an accurate finish to the tart. Leave to cool.

Turn the oven temperature down to 150°C/300°F/Gas Mark 2.

For the custard filling:

Whisk together the yolks, vanilla seeds and the sugar, add the cream and mix well. Heat the mixture over a medium heat to body temperature. Pass through a sieve into a jug. It is advisable to fill the tart case once it is already on an oven tray. This means you will not spill any mixture when placing in the oven. Fill the case to just below the top. Cook in the oven for 35-40 minutes. There should still be a good wobble in the center of the tart. Remove from the oven onto a cooling rack. Grate over a generous amount of fresh nutmeg. Leave to sit for a minimum of 1 hour before removing from the tart case. Serve on its own or with rum-soaked raisins and crème Chantilly.

*This is a technical term given for the porcelain “beans” used in blind baking tart cases. We use, more often than not, plain rice. This gives a far more defined edge to the tart.

Here’s some wine recommendations to get your palate pinging!

Domaine Ventenac Chenin/Colombard 2008 (Vin de Pays des Cotes de Lastours, France) is £6.99 and flipping marvellous. Apply, fresh, dry and round white wine with seriously bright zing in the tail. If you’re a fan of crisp whites, grab this and go aperitif-crazy with all over it – or for a decadent match, try it with fresh oysters or pre-dinner nibbles.

For a huge storming red, grab Benegas Malbec 2007, Mendoza, Argentina usually £17.99 but down to £13.99 when you buy two bottles at Majestic. It is a vast wine – fragrant aromas with a palate of huge rich depth and massive dark bold fruit with a fist of spice. Long-lasting, epic, in your face and stacked with flavour – a must with a hearty chunk of beef. An HGV of a wine!

Take good care of one another, keep on rocking and see you soon!

Olly

As it happens rabbits don’t do themselves many favours beyond their appearance. They are a pest with an appetite for both food and reproduction so voracious that the combination has in the past brought the entire crop of a country to the brink of ruin. Talk to any farmer and they will be quite happy for you to shoot rabbits on their land until your trigger finger falls limp from overuse. Apart from their pest like habits it is also extremely easy to see past the fluff factor. If you purchase your rabbit direct from the butcher you will be forgiven for believing he has handed you an ugly alien from another planet. Rabbits really are proof that beauty can be only fur deep.

However, their well documented ability to reproduce has in the past been viewed as beneficial and has seen this animal, originally native only to Morocco and Iberia pop up all over the World. It was the Romans who first realized the benefit of a tasty animal that could multiply quickly, hence they took it with them to Italy and then around the rest of Europe helping to feed their soldiers and growing populations. It is thought that it was the Normans who were the first to show the British and Irish the doe-eyed delicacy, and it didn’t stop there: It has been documented that sailors would often release a mating pair of rabbits on to islands that they passed in the knowledge there would be a familiar and bountiful crop on their return journey. That is why we now find rabbits aplenty in Australasia and South America.

FTLOL loves rabbit. The picture to the right shows the main parts of a rabbit, with the two large hind legs, the two smaller legs attached to the shoulder, the loin, best end and then the liver and kidneys. All of it is delicious. From the tough hind legs which work beautifully when cooked over a long period of time to the delicate loins that can be fried off in seconds, rabbit offers the chef so many different options.  It is this gastronomic agilty that has seen rabbit gradually work its’ way back on to the menus of many a top eatery and once again become fashionable.

To get you started here are 3 recipes which use the rabbit in different ways, from the very simple to a slightly more complicated dish we hope these will just be a springboard to your adventures in the Leporidaic warren.

Rabbit and Tarragon Fricassee  - serves 4-6

Ingredients

3tbsp sunflower oil
3tbsp butter
1 x rabbit jointed – 2 x legs, 2 x shoulders, 2 x loins trimmed
1 x large onion, peeled and finely diced
2 x carrots, peeled and finely diced
2 x sticks of celery, finely diced
½ bunch of tarragon, leaves and stalks separated
1 x bay leaf
½ glass white wine
500-1000ml cold water
3 x potatoes, peeled and chopped into chunks
100ml double cream
1-2tbsp wholegrain mustard

Method

Heat half of the oil and butter over a high heat in a heavy based casserole dish. Season the pieces of rabbit well. Once the butter has melted and is bubbling in the oil add the pieces of rabbit (may have to done in stages). Fry for 2-3mins on either side until a dark brown colour is reached. Remove the browned pieces of meat to a plate.

Reduce the heat to medium and add the remaining butter and oil. Again wait till the butter has melted.  Add the onions, carrots and celery. Sweat over a medium heat for 4-5mins. Return the rabbit, reserving the browned loins, to the casserole dish along with the tarragon stalks and bay leaf. Increase the heat to maximum.

Add the white wine and reduce over a high heat until almost all evaporated. Pour in the water. The water should cover the rabbit meat easily. At this point skim the surface for any fats that rise. Bring the water to the boil, and then reduce the casserole to a simmer. Skim again. Simmer for about 35-45mis until the leg meat is tender and falling off the bone.

Remove the rabbit and the tarragon stalks from the liquid and leave to cool on a plate. Add the potatoes to the liquid and continue to simmer liquid to cook potatoes but also to reduce.

Once cool enough to handle remove the meat from the bones, discarding the bones. Chop the reserved loins into bite – sized chunks.

Once the potatoes are just tender add the cream. At this point the liquid should have reduced by about a third. If not remove the potatoes and continue to simmer the liquid until it has reduced sufficiently. Add the wholegrain mustard and season to taste.

Replace the picked rabbit meat along with the chopped loin pieces into the simmering creamy casserole. Add the tarragon leaves, and check seasoning before serving.

Rabbit Ragout with wet Polenta – serves 4-6

Ingredients

For the rabbit
4-6tbsp olive oil
1 x rabbit jointed 2 x legs, 2 x shoulders, 1 x saddle split in two
2 x red onions, peeled and sliced thinly
3 x cloves of garlic, peeled and finely diced
3 x sticks of celery, roughly diced
½ bunch of basil, leaves and stalks separated
2-3 sprigs of thyme
50ml balsamic vinegar
1 x glass of red wine
2 x tins of chopped tomato
200ml water
1tbsp brown sugar

For the polenta
150g polenta
800ml water
200g parmesan, grated
50g butter
Rocket to serve

Method

Heat some of the oil in a heavy based casserole dish over a high heat. Season the pieces of rabbit well. Add half of the rabbit pieces to the pan. Cook for about 2-3mins on each side until a rich golden brown colour is reached. Remove the pieces to a plate and repeat with the remaining pieces.

Reduce the heat to medium, pour in the remaining oil and add the onions. Cook until the onions have gone soft, and are lightly coloured, this should take about 6-10mins. Add the garlic and the celery. Stir and cook through for another 3mins before adding the basil stalks and thyme sprigs.

Increase the heat to maximum and add the balsamic vinegar. Reduce to almost nothing. Add the red wine and again reduce to almost nothing. Pour in the tomatoes and water. Bring to a simmer before adding the brown sugar, and the rested rabbit pieces.

Simmer the sauce for about 35mins until it has reduced by about a third and all the rabbit is cooked through and tender. (If the sauce is becoming dry just add a little water).

Remove the rabbit pieces from the sauce and. Blitz the sauce with a stick blender until a smooth consistency is reached. Replace the rabbit into the sauce.

For the polenta

Bring the water to the boil in a large pan. Once boiling add the dried polenta. Reduce the heat to a low flame and vigorously mix the polenta until it is fully cooked through, about 3-4mins. Add the parmesan, butter, salt and pepper.

Serve the rabbit immediately with generous amounts of polenta all topped with rocket.

Rabbit and Scallop Parpadelle – serves 4

This is the most complicated of the recipes, but when executed properly shows off the cheapest and most expensive parts of both the scallop and rabbit. Do not take preparation of this dish lightly, you will need to start 6 hours before service and be a confident chef to pull off the presentation perfectly. However once you have the knack it is a great dinner party dish because it can be prepared well in advance.

Ingredients

6 x scallops, roe separated from flesh
4 x rabbit loins
8-10 slices of pancetta
3-4tbsp double cream
Small bunch of chives, finely sliced
A squeeze of lemon juice
1tbsp Dijon mustard
A knob of butter
3tbsp olive oil
2 x rabbits liver, sinew removed and diced into small pieces
Parpadelle for 4 people
Small bunch of parsley, leaves only

Method

Pre-heat the oven to the lowest possible temperature. This should be between 50°c and 75°c.

Place the removed scallop roes on to a non stick baking tray. Place in the oven. They need to be left until they are fully dehydrated, which can take up to 6 hours. However with a higher heat and more surveillance they can be done in a shorter period. They are ready when they transform to a deep crimson colour, have halved in sized and can be snapped easily in two. Once they have reached this stage place them in a pestle and mortar with just a touch of salt and crush till you reach a powder consistency. Reserve.

Place the blade of your small food processor into the freezer.

Take one of the loins. Place it in front of you lengthways. Slice the loin along the length, but do not cut all the way through. You should now be able to open the meat up like a “book”. Place the meat flat between two pieces of cling film and lightly bash until you are left with a flat, square, quite thin piece of meat. Reserve whilst you repeat the process with the remaining 3 loins. Place them on a plate and in the fridge until ready to use.

Replace the blade into the food processor. Add the scallops and pulse (it is very important to only pulse the blade, if not the heat created by the blade will begin to cook the scallop meat rendering it tough. This is why the extra precaution of placing the blade in the freezer is also necessary) till a coarse consistency is reached. Add the lemon juice, the chives, seasoning and half of the cream. Pulse again until all ingredients are incorporated. You are trying to reach a thick mousse like consistency. If not smooth enough then add the rest of the cream. Spoon the mixture into a piping bag and place in fridge whilst you return to the loins.

Slice the pancetta slices in half horizontally. Place four of the pieces side by side on a sheet of cling film, then lay one of the batted out loins on top.  The loins should fit quite almost exactly on to the pancetta pieces. If they overhang then just trim down to size.

Brush the loin very lightly with Dijon mustard and then season. Lay the rabbit loin horizontally facing you. Remove the mousse from the fridge and pipe a generous amount of mousse along the center of the loin.

Pick up the piece of cling film nearest to you and delicately fold it over so the rabbit loin envelops the mousse with the entirety being wrapped in pancetta. At this point you should be able to tuck the enveloping half of the cling film under the meat turning it into a sausage. This process may take a couple of tries to perfect but is well worth the practice.

Once a loose sausage shape has been formed take the excess cling film from one side and twist it until it becomes tight against the side of the meat. Tie a knot in the cling film. Hold the cling film excess on the other side and repeat the process, ensuring you are left with a very neat, tightly wrapped sausage shape. Roll out another piece of cling film and tightly roll the sausage shape again in the second layer to make it full water tight. Repeat the process with the remaining pieces of meat.

Heat a large pan of water to a point where it is just starting to simmer. Add the wrapped loins and poach gently for 12mins. Remove the “sausages” in to ice cold water and leave till completely cooled through.

Boil the pasta until it is just al denté, drain and reserve. Whilst the pasta is boiling heat the olive oil in a large frying pan. When it is smoking add the chopped liver. Cook over a high heat till just lightly browned. Add the cooked pasta, toss to completely mix with the liver and oil. Add the scallop powder, reserving just a little for presentation, season and reserve.

Heat the butter till it begins to foam over a medium to high heat. Remove the “sausages” from the fridge and unwrap them. Place them into the foaming butter. Cook the “sausages” until they are browned on the outside. Remove and slice into rounds.

Add the parsley to the pasta and distribute amongst the plates. Top each pile of pasta with the meat and sprinkle over some of the magical scallop roe powder.

From spending the majority of my youth sat by a lake on a cold Saturday morning with a box of maggots and a pole fishing for carp only to release them instantly, I have now become a totally single-minded fishing snob and consider fly flishing to be the purist form of angling.

For those of you who have not had the good fortune to experience fly fishing, I will give you a brief insight…. Fly fishing involves using an artificial fly, usually made from feathers tied around a hook, this fly is then cast out to the fish using a fly rod and reel. The idea being to give an illusion of a fly landing on the surface of the water and thereby provoking the fish bellow to strike.

In my opinion fly fishing takes a great deal more skill than other forms of fishing available in the UK. You must first stalk the river banks looking for that elusive wild trout, who will dart off up stream at the faintest movement of a shadow.

Your best bet is to wait for a fish to rise to the surface of the water causing a ripple. This distinctive tale tale sign will give you an indication of where to put your fly. You then want to approach the fish from the tail end, taking care not to make much noise and cast so that your fly lands up river of the fish to drift down above him. Although you must be prepared for a strike the instant your fly nears the water. Some highly skilled anglers will try and make the fly bounce off an overhanging branch to give it a more natural drop onto the water.

Most recently I fished the Avon, this was a un-stocked beat but contained a few very good size (1.5lb-2lb) wild brown trout. In most rivers you will find wild brown trout and stocked rainbow trout, which were introduced from North America. If you have the bank balance of Eric Clapton you may get to fish a beat containing wild salmon and sea trout.

The last thing to say is that I have never had an unenjoyable days fly fishing, even on the days when all I am doing is flogging the water and loosing fly after fly to overhead branches, frustrating as this is, the sheer beauty and tranquillity of the surroundings on British rivers make it well worthwhile.

Salmon with Herb Potatoes

Serves 4

Ingredients

For the fish

2tbsp olive oil

4 x 200g fillets of Salmon, skin on

For the Dill Potatoes

800g Jersey Royal potatoes, scrubbed and boiled till just tender

2tbsp Mayonnaise

½ Bunch of Dill, finely chopped

½ Bunch of Parsley, finely chopped

2tbsp Chives, finely chopped

3tbsp Capers, roughly chopped

Side salad to serve

Method

For the fish

Pre heat oven to 200˚c

Heat the olive oil over a medium to high heat in a large, oven proof frying pan.

Season the fish. Place the fish into the pan skin side down. Cook without moving for 4-5mins – or until the skin has taken on a light golden appearance and begun to crisp.

Carefully turn the fillets and immediately place in the oven. Cook for about 4mins. The fillets should be just cooked through. The skin should be nice an crisp.

For the potatoes

Whilst the potatoes are still warm add all of the ingredients. Mix well. I prefer the potatoes a little broken up so mix everything together in the same bowl. If you prefer the potatoes to be kept whole then mix all the other ingredients separately, then carefully add the potatoes to the mixture turning lightly.

To serve: serve a fillet of cooked Salmon with a good portion of the potatoes. Serve with green salad.

Asian Fish ‘n’ Chips with salad

Serves 4

Ingredients

For the Fish and chips

100g Plain flour

100g Corn flour

300ml Sparkling water

8 x 125g Salmon fillets, skin off

1 x Large floury potato, peeled and finely julienned into long matchsticks

Sunflower oil for deep frying

For the salad

½ tbsp Fish sauce

6tbsp Lime juice

½ tsp Caster sugar

1 x Red chilli, de-seeded and finely diced

2 x Carrot, finely sliced on an angle

2 x Fennel, hard, outer layer removed and finely sliced lengthways

10 x Radishes, finely sliced

½ Cucumber, peeled, seeds removed, halved lengthways and thinly sliced

Large handful of bean sprouts

½ Bunch of mint. Leaves only

½ Bunch of coriander. Leaves only

For the dipping sauce

100ml Dashi stock

25ml Mirin

25ml Soy sauce

Pinch of caster sugar

Method

For the Fish and chips

Heat the oil to 180˚c

Place the two flours into a bowl. Begin to pour in the sparkling water gradually, whilst continually whisking. It may not be necessary to use the entire amount of water. Your finished batter should resemble pancake batter.

Season the Salmon fillets and dip into the batter. Carefully place into the hot oil. Cook for about 4mins each. Remove on to kitchen roll to drain excess oil. Reserve in a warm place.

Rinse the chopped potato under cold water. Drain well. Pick out about 30g of potato at a time. Place into the batter. Remove from the batter and place directly into the oil. The potatoes will spread but will be held together by the batter.

Fry the potato for about 4mins. They should be slightly golden. Remove and drain on kitchen roll. Keep in a warm place till needed. Continued on next page.

For the salad

Mix together the fish sauce, lime juice, caster sugar

and red chilli.

Mix together all the vegetables.

Toss together the vegetables with the dressing and season.

For the dipping sauce

Place all of the ingredients into a small pan and bring to the boil. Remove from the heat, and leave to cool before serving.

To serve: Serve two pieces of salmon with a generous portion of both the chips and salad. Serve the dipping sauce separately.

Salmon Ceviche

Serves 4

Ingredients

For the Ceviche

600g centre cut piece of salmon, skinned and trimmed

Juice of 2 limes

For the dressing

1 x red chilli, de-seeded and sliced into thin strips

Zest of 1 lime

1tsp caster sugar

1tbsp sesame oil

Lambs lettuce and crusty bread to serve

Method

For the Ceviche

Slice the Salmon into 1/2cm slices and lay flat on to a clean plate. Do not overlap the fish.

Pour over the lime juice and place in the fridge. After 4mins turn the salmon pieces. Leave to marinade for another 4mins before removing and draining the lime juice, reserving 3tbsp for the dressing

Remove the slices directly on to the plates they will be served on.

For the dressing

Mix together the reserved lime juice, red chilli, lime zest, sugar and sesame oil.

To serve: Drizzle over the dressing sparingly just before serving.

Organic campaigners and organisations such as the Soil Association have been quick to dismiss the findings as “selective” and “disappointing” calling into question the omission of pesticide and fertilizer residues in mass produced crops.

Even after these results have been published the public opinion is stalwart, very much that organic food is better for you – it has to be. Before FTLOL gives our own verdict we decided to publish two letters written by “readers” that we believe best describe the subject and its intricacies. Here are the contrasting opinions of Poppy Marriedwell and John Alwayswright.

Dear Editor

Following the outrageous findings of the FSA concerning organic foods I feel compelled to jot down just a few of my thoughts in favour of the delicious organic foods I can pick up at the shops.

In fact it’s never been so easy to pick and choose the food causes I wish to support. It is so assuring that the supermarkets let us know by the packaging exactly who is benefiting from my purchases. In fact on my last visit to the shops I helped the poor African farmers by buying Fair Trade, supported the local farming community by picking produce with a rosy cheeked Norfolk farmer on the front, and helped my family to live to 125 by selecting the lovely organic carrots. I don’t know about you but I leave the shops feeling positively saintly. I don’t even bother going to church on Sunday, these days I just visit Sainsburys between 10am and 4pm and pray at the blipping altar of consumerism.

Of course there is a price to pay for my penance – it seems a conscience doesn’t come cheap – but it’s ok. What I save in the collection bowl and spend in the shops will insure my smooth transition to food heaven, which I’ve been reliably informed is at the end of aisle 19 in Whole Foods, just next to the Buddhist friendly Pomegranate face masks.

Surely it’s a sign our advancement and civilization that we are able to help those less fortunate than ourselves simply by buying their produce from the supermarket. Why bother trudging around those seemingly sporadic farmers markets to buy muddy, disfigured vegetables or visiting the butcher (Who only sells meat by the way!) when I can peacefully ponder the beautifully manicured rows of the supermarket?

And anyway doesn’t everything just taste better? Those Kenyans sure know how to grow an organic fine bean alright. Even if I can’t taste the difference myself, what’s the point of bringing them all that way if they’re not?

I cannot, and will not accept the findings of the FSA. How can they possibly be right when they haven’t even taken into account the herbicides and the pesticides used on all that terrible “economy” rubbish. Surely they’re to blame for all that mad cow flu going around.

I will not believe the FSA and their “clinically achieved results”. No. I shall continue listening to Prince Charles and that lovely shaggy chap from the cottage by the river and pay the premium for my organic produce. Besides what would the ladies think of me if I stopped our weekly coffee chit chat at Whole Foods organic, GM free, fairly traded, tuna friendly, save the orphans coffee shop at the culmination of our weekly shop?

Yours with love,

Poppy Marriedwell

Dear Editor

Bravo FSA. Bravo for showing all the hippies where to shove their organic nonsense. You have ratified what I have known for years; this entire hoodoo about organic foods being better for us than conventionally farmed foods is nothing more than mass produced, water injected tripe.

What these hemp loving bumpkins haven’t yet grasped is that technology must advance in direct relation to the ever expanding population and their increasing expectations. Technology has breathed life into an archaic farming system. It’s a simple calculation: we need more land to house people and create industry, therefore have less land to farm, so it must therefore become more efficient – hey presto fertilizer and pesticides.

For those who believe the effects of fertilizers and pesticides (not included by the FSA study) have a detrimental effect on humans you may be interested to know that a study in 2004 found that farmers – who handle gallons of the stuff – demonstrate a below average tendency to contracting cancer – read it and weep veggies.

I will ask all you Wigwammers one simple question: If I own one acre of land is it better to grow one tonne of your deformed looking organic broccoli using a mule and plough (or whatever it is you use) or to produce two tonnes of pristine mass produced broccoli using modern farming techniques? Not even the most ardent Tofu lover can argue with the cold facts.

Tell me why does a chicken need to walk around and stretch its legs in the sun? It’s only going to be alive for 3 months then tossed in some flour and eaten. They are not pets, they are fuel for the insatiable march of mankind. Stop crying those crocodile tears for the static chicken; immobilized by the steroid inflated flesh of its own body.

What is so bad about GM foods? If all you Lefties would stop knitting runner beans for one minute you’d realize that GM foods could cure World famine. Why bother ploughing up a field when we can make protein substitutes in Petri dishes? In fact you’re all hypocrites anyway because if you let the scientists get on with their jobs little Larry the lamb wouldn’t need to be killed. In fact Larry could come and live with you on your commune, make some space to plant something useful like Palm Oil. All your hot air about playing God seems convincing, but none of you believe in God anyway.

Re-read my letter and pick out the FACTS. They are undisputable. Realise the only reason you eat organic is because you think you should. The idyllic life portrayed by the connotations of your organic purchases is, I admit far more tempting than the cold steel of scientific advancement. Your heart may desire the organic lifestyle, but wake up; the future doesn’t have a heart. It doesn’t need to, we’ve got pacemakers.

Yours Sincerely,

John Alwayswright

Verdict

As divisive as these two opinions are we hope that by publishing their polemic readers will be able to see from both sides and in turn develop their own opinions

We at FTLOL unfalteringly believe in good produce. We cannot however condone the use of titles and labels meant for good being used by supermarkets and marketers the world over to, in essence, exploit people’s good will. Look closely at the ethics of the produce you’re purchasing. The terms, GM free, organic, and free trade do not immediately placate your conscience. Even if a green bean is labelled organic, is it really ethical if it has been sourced from a bullied farmer in Africa who no longer grows sustenance for himself and his country but instead follows the cash cows?

Because of our belief in the best produce we almost always find ourselves in the local butcher, fishmonger, or veg suppliers. This is where we shouldn’t mind paying a premium because our money is not only just buying food, it is also paying for the continuing fortunes of people who know what they are doing and are passionate about what they do. These producers always sell ethical foods because they always have done and that’s what makes the best tasting, best quality food (stuff the FSA). Ethics is something that they have never questioned because they know no other way.

Purchase what you want. Just know why you are buying the produce. Believe in the people you purchase from, be interested. If it helps we’ve come up with a calculation that we believe cuts through the rhetoric of hundreds of thousands of words written on this subject:

(Conscience + Opinion of others) – Budget = Product purchased

Arriving at Providores on an indifferent city day I’m immediately struck by the huge swathes of scaffold clad to the first floor of the much vaunted restaurant. As I’m early I sit, sipping a deliciously dark coffee reviewing some of the questions I have prepared. What I don’t know at this point is that any structure I presumed to follow will soon disintegrate, and a far more thoughtful and free-flowing conversation than I could have presumed will take its place. A style reflective of the subject perhaps.

As he takes his seat, Peter immediately makes light of the scaffold masking the façade of his restaurant. He explains that it belongs to next door and as intrusive as it may seem it provides much needed cover to the hordes of customers who routinely queue for Sunday brunch – even on the rainiest of English days. You see, people love the food at Providores. From the Turkish Eggs to the Sesame battered, Nori wrapped Yellow Fin customers flock to Marylebone High Street to sample Peter’s interpretation of a world tour.

In a city of top chefs at the helm of world renowned restaurants it can be difficult for chefs to distinguish themselves. For knowledgeable customers London offers countless examples of fine dining of the highest caliber. Perfect execution has become an expectation and it is now the imagination and creativity of a chef that marks them out and elevates them to the highest tiers of culinary accomplishment.

Imagination and creativity are two attributes Peter possesses in spades. The four pages of menu crammed with exotically balanced dishes serves as a tribute to the constantly evolving ideas of both Peter and the eclectic brigade he has assembled in his basement kitchen. But how did a boy from Wanganui, New Zealand arrive at this point?

“I started collecting recipes when I was 4, and I began cooking when I was 5. At 7 I was cooking with my dad stood on a stool and I pulled a deep fat fryer over my head, so I’ve been cooking forever really.”

“When I was a kid we had really good simple food, we had a sheep, and we ate it. We used to chop down beef carcasses and make soap. I remember buckets of fat in the garage, butchering our own meat, catching fish, and growing our own vegetables. Dad and his mates were all kind of similar in that way – food and cooking were just normal. Dad would cook every Sunday; big soufflé omelettes on his electric frying pan.”

“I was at university because I wanted to be a wine maker, I’d never drunk wine but I thought that would be a cool job. I was at Massey University in New Zealand and just thought I was in the wrong place. I needed to go to Australia to what was then called Roseworthy college in Melbourne which is probably the best wine making school in the southern hemisphere. So I arrived in Melbourne and got a job to get some cash together in a restaurant and realized that I didn’t actually want to make wine, I wanted to be a chef.”

“As a kid we never ate in restaurants, we didn’t have restaurants in Wanganui. There was something called the Colonial Rooms and something called Big Tex which was like a sort of McDonalds, but nothing like the restaurants I know now. I’d never had a cappuccino, I’d never had an espresso coffee, I’d never seen an avocado, I’d never tasted olive oil before I left New Zealand. Funnily enough we used to eat seaweed and tofu so I was familiar with them. Then suddenly I’m 18 saying oh my god, there’s Korean, Vietnamese, Thai, French and Moroccan. I used to go to all the restaurants and they were excellent, they inspired me; so I’d go to the food shops and I’d buy the ingredients take them home and experiment. “

“My head chefs were encouraging but they didn’t really get what I was doing. I was at William Angus College and what was really frustrating was that I would say that I’d just eaten the most amazing silken tofu at a Japanese restaurant, and ask if we could do something with tofu. They’d just say the Japanese don’t cook, they eat everything raw. So I’d say that I’d just been to a Thai restaurant and that I’d eaten some funny little leaves that tasted of lime and they’d just dismiss it. So my college years were just annoying.”

Having left college a frustrated chef Peter travelled extensively; tasting and discovering the myriad cultures of the world. These experiences supplemented what he had been taught at college and emboldened him to open his own restaurant. In 1989 the Sugar Club was opened in Wellington, New Zealand. The restaurant was a huge success and proved both Peter’s palette and the appeal of his food.

Having run the restaurant for 6 years Peter was ready for a new challenge and so transplanted the Sugar Club to London’s Notting Hill. With him Peter brought a style of food the English media found difficult to classify.

“When the Sugar Club opened Time Out voted us Best Modern British restaurant whilst the Evening Standard gave us an award for best Pacific Rim restaurant in the same week. That was kind of weird, because I thought to myself: we’re not modern British, that’s Fergus Henderson stuff, and I’m not Pacific Rim because I’m using Cous-Cous and Sumac. Then I read about a guy called Norman Van Aken – a Chicago guy based in Florida, and he was doing Fusion food, so I thought that’s what I’ll do, I’ll use that term: Fusion.”

“It’s interesting that everyone needs to be categorised in restaurant guide books. But Time Out don’t call us Fusion, I think they put us under International or something. I don’t really give a shit; nothing means nothing anymore in many ways. For example I read a review of Tom Kitchen’s place up in Edinburgh – sounds amazing, really good – but he’s using combinations of stuff not dissimilar to what I do, but probably in a far more refined, joojy, Michelin sort of way. Nobody will call him Fusion, they’ll probably call it modern Scottish or something. So he won’t be tainted by this term.”

“There are a lot of chefs who have a negative approach to the food I do. They’ve decided, and got it into their heads that the stuff that we do here – even though we’re packed all the time – can’t be good. They’ll never come here to try it, but they’re happy to bad mouth us. Yet if I’d done all my training in Great Britain and gone through the Michelin star system, and worked with all the boys I’d have probably been viewed as being quite innovative. It’s a funny old world really.”

Having distinguished himself at the Sugar Club and on the back of rave reviews (whichever category he was placed in to) Peter and his business partners opened Providores and Tapa room where he has established an eatery that juxtaposes the stiff qualities necessary to make it a destination for discerning customers with a warmth and familiarity that makes it an authentic neighbourhood restaurant (a point reinforced by the regulars who stop to chat). That it feels like a haven from the busy street outside is reflective of Peter’s naturally caring disposition. When asked what he would be if not a chef, his immediate response is: campaigner. A career not surprising given his staunch views on certain topics.

“You just need to speak to anyone who’s worked in a lot of kitchens around town to find out how appallingly some of them are run: youngsters working 100hr weeks being paid poorly, not being given staff meals, being abused, we all know it goes on and it’s never exposed, that to me is the biggest crime in Britain. There’s a slightly strange slave trade where we exploit young people on minimum wages in order to feed the rich customers. It annoys me because there’s no need, you go to the River Café, you look in here…. There are people who won’t put up with that shit. It just appalls me that youngsters are prepared to put up with it, and it appalls me that there are a lot of people making a lot of money by exploiting ambition.”

At this point FTLOL suggests that to be a chef has always been synonymous with physically hard work in oppressive conditions.

“There’s hard and there’s hard. I used to work in a restaurant in Aussie 7 days a week, we’d be at the fish and the meat market twice a week, I loved it, it was great. It was bloody hard work, but I was never exploited. We had breakfast lunch and dinner every single day I worked there. There were always lots of perks and lots of treats – I was happy working there. Some of the stories I’ve heard, they’re just bad – pointless abuse. I don’t get how some of these young people are so lacking in confidence that they’ll put up with some of this shit.”

“We tried doing something about it, we approached three newspapers, but nobody would touch it. They won’t touch the people who lay the golden eggs if you know what I mean.”

Peter’s sentiments extend beyond those of the kitchen. He is an educated advocate of all issues involving food. Unsurprisingly he has strong views and is not afraid to voice them.

“There was a thing on television last night to do with food around the world. They interviewed a guy who had an idea that I’d been thinking about for a while: instead of mowing down 50 acres of land why not build a fifty storey building and grow things in glass houses. In fact in Britain you have the only place in Europe that employs an independent hydroponic system: they have these tanks with fish in. The fish provide the shit which is then filtered and fed to plants. The plants then provide a crop. The trim from the vegetables is used to feed worms which are then fed to the fish, so it’s a totally enclosed biodynamic system.”

“Whether organic is better for you or not, when you grow things conventionally you’re putting all these fertilizers on the ground which leave a carbon footprint. It’s non – sustainable, they‘re often oil based, and in order to make the oil you’ve got to mow down the land to get the oil, to get the nitrogen. So what you find now is that in order to grow 2 acres of broccoli you’ve suddenly inadvertently destroyed 3 acres of the environment.”

“I wrote a piece for the Independent a couple of years ago on food miles because I was getting sick to death of hearing how buying New Zealand lamb was destroying the environment, and I knew that it was a load of bull shit. I wrote that food miles are a completely ridiculous measure of environmental impact – it shouldn’t be used in any way, shape or form. The reality is that if you buy New Zealand meat its carbon footprint is far less than conventional British meat.
The meat in New Zealand is reared on grass, the majority of the power in New Zealand is produced by hydroelectrics, it is shipped over which is the most environmentally economical method of transport.

It’s only when it reaches this country and moved around by lorries to be held in refrigerated storage to then be thrown on to another lorry to be taken to a supermarket which the consumers visit in their cars that it stacks up its carbon foot print. Everyone thinks that if it’s grown in Wales, it’s got less distance to come and so must be better. But most electricity in Wales is made by burning fossil fuels. It’s not just lamb though. If you’re interested have a look at how onions are produced and distributed.”

“The only reason I buy local is to keep people employed and to experience the cuisine, but it is a misconception that buying locally and in season is the answer to global warming. It’s an unpopular thought, but it‘s based on facts and it‘s my view. Wow, I feel like a real pariah.”

……………. And maybe he is: an outcast from the mainstream. But you get the feeling that he’s past caring.

Whether it’s through his vibrant cooking or his colourful views Peter continually demonstrates the healthy schisms that exist both in the micro culture of the cooking fraternity but also in the world as a whole. Go to his restaurant, listen to what he has to say, because even if you don’t agree I can assure you that you will leave with a broader horizon.

Being a Kiwi it seemed only natural for Peter to cook us a dish that originates from his home land. This is Peter’s take on the classic Pavlova.

Ingredients
For the pavlova
6 x egg whites
300g caster sugar
60g unrefined caster sugar
1 x vanilla pod, scraped
10 ml white malt vinegar
2 tbsp cornflour

For the sherry agar jelly cubes

300g Sherry, try Oloroso or Palo Cortado
100ml apple juice
30g caster sugar, or more to taste
4g agar

For passion fruit mascarpone cream
150g passion fruit, pulped
100g icing sugar
200g Marscapone
300ml double cream
6 x kiwi fruit, peeled and sliced into rings

Method

Preheat the oven to 180ºC

For the Pavlova
Line a baking tray with baking parchment.

Beat the egg whites, both sugars and the vanilla scrapings with an electric whisk for 10 minutes. Mix the vinegar and cornflour together and add to the meringue and keep beating for another 5 minutes.

Use a spatula to remove all of the meringue from the bowl and form it into a nest about 25cm around – you can be fairly rough. Place in the centre of the oven and drop the temperature to 100ºC.

Bake for 1 hour then turn the oven off. If it’s coloured beyond pale gold then leave the door ajar slightly until it’s completely cooled down – otherwise just leave it in the oven to cool down.

For the jelly cubes

Place half the sherry, the apple juice and the sugar into a small pan and bring almost to the boil.

Whisk in the agar agar powder, making sure it doesn’t adhere to the whisk, and cook at a rapid simmer for 3 minutes.

Take off the heat and whisk in the remaining sherry for 30 seconds. Pour onto a clean plastic tray or container, no more than 15 x 15cm square. It will set as it cools.

Cut into 1cm cubes and tip out – these jellies will not melt at room temperature.

For the passion fruit mascarpone

Mix the passion fruit pulp with the icing sugar. Combine the mascarpone and whisk for 20 seconds. Add the cream and whisk until soft peaks form.

To serve: place the pavlova on a platter. Spread the passion fruit cream over it, then scatter with the kiwi fruit and the sherry jelly cubes.

FTLOL firmly believes in happy chickens, but at the same time has noted the shocking price supermarkets charge for it in its prepared form (Breasts, legs and thighs).

These shops charge an absolute premium (£14.69/kg) for butchered cuts. Compare this to the price charged for the equivalent quality whole chicken (£4.33/kg) and it is clear to see what the supermarkets are charging us for.

However, without knowing it the supermarkets are actually doing us an enormous favour by pricing their whole chickens so comparatively low. Purchasing the bird in its entirety is the best way to buy poultry, because not only are you buying the juicy pieces of choice meat but you’re also taking away all the flavour locked into the carcass which is too often discarded as waste.

By following the step by step instructions given below, you will not only look and feel like an expert butcher, but you will be saving a small fortune. Purchasing with a conscience will never have represented such good value.

The chicken that we used was a Corn Fed Free Range chicken from Waitrose, normally priced at £4.99/kg. We bought this one at a reduced price and picked up the whole bird for £6.25.

1. Slice down in between the thigh and breast. It is only necessary to break the skin. With one hand on the breast use your other hand to pull the thigh and leg joint away from the breast. Keep going until the thigh joint pops out from the socket.

2. Remove the thigh and leg joint away from the rest of the carcass by slicing the adjoining flesh as close to the carcass as possible. You now have two leg joints and the crown.

3. With the crown facing you locate the breast bone running along the centre of the two breasts. Slice cleanly down one of the sides. Follow the contours of the bone.

4. Place the knife in the position demonstrated and cut straight down. If the knife is properly placed then you shouldn’t feel much resistance. If it feels as though you are cutting through bone you are, and have gone wrong. Reposition the blade and try again. This cut can take a bit of practise. But once the correct position is located you will not miss again.

5. Once the wing bone has been split the remove the entire breast by cutting through anyflesh or skin joining the breast to the carcass. Repeat this process for the other breast. You now have two leg joints, two supremes and a carcass.

6. Remove the wing bone from the breast by cutting diagonally across the top of the breast as close to the wing bone as possible.

7. Remove the tip of the wing by positioning the blade as follows. Like point 4 there is a particular point that is easy to cut through.

8. To prepare the thigh and leg begin by removing the very end of the leg. Position the knife as demonstrated and cut through the joint. Discard the tip of the leg.

9. Separating the leg and thigh is possibly the most difficult part of the whole operation. There is again a point at which the knife will run through the joint with ease. Miss this point and you will find yourself sawing through bone. Hit the correct point and you will feel like a master butcher. Repeat with the second leg joint.

10. You are now left with a beautifully portioned chicken. The pieces can now be separated, cooked and frozen as and how you desire.

We took the pieces and created a delicious classic broth. The following recipe relies on all of the flavours imparted when cooking chicken on the bone. For a luxurious touch we also added in the breasts right at the end of the cooking process, but it is not necessary. There is enough meat and flavour using just the brown meat to create a satisfying dish.

Chicken broth

Serves 6
Ingredients

2tbsp oil
1 x chicken. Portioned, skin removed from the breasts
4 x rashers of smoked, streaky bacon, sliced into 1cm strips
1 x carrot, diced into 1cm cubes
½ onion, diced
2 x cloves of garlic, peeled and roughly chopped
1 x stick of celery, diced into 1cm cubes
2 x Bay leaves
4 x sprigs of Thyme
Good splash of white wine
3 x pints of water
3 x medium potatoes, peeled and roughly chopped
1 x courgette, chopped into half moons
½ bunch Parsley, roughly chopped

Method

Heat the oil in a heavy based casserole dish over a medium to high heat. Season the thighs, legs, wings and carcass of the chicken. Fry the chicken pieces skin side down until a deep brown is reached. Fry in batches if necessary. Remove the chicken pieces onto a plate and drain excess fats.

Add bacon and fry over a high heat until slightly golden. Add the carrot, onion, garlic, celery, Bay and Thyme. Sweat for 2-3mins. Add the white wine. Reduce to almost nothing using to deglaze the pan.

Add the chicken pieces back into the pan along with any juices that may have been left in the bowl. Add water until the chicken pieces are just covered. Bring the broth to a boil.

As the liquid comes to the boil it is important to fastidiously skim the surface for as much fat and froth as possible. Add more water if needed. Turn the heat down to a low simmer and cook for about 35mins skimming periodically.

Remove the chicken pieces from the hot liquid and leave to cool for a few minutes. Add the potatoes and the skinless chicken breasts to the broth.

With a knife and fork remove the brown meat from the cooked thighs, legs and wings. Shred into bite sized pieces. Discard the skin and the bones.

Simmer the chicken breasts for 7-10mins until they are just cooked through. Remove to a chopping board. Replace the brown meat along with the courgette pieces and chopped parsley to the broth and keep on a rolling simmer. Slice the breast meat into 1cm slices.

To Serve
Ladle a generous amount of the broth into a bowl and top with the delicately poached chicken breast slices.

NB. Prices quoted are taking from www.comparemysupermarket.co.uk and is based on the Sainsbury’s “Taste the Difference range”. Prices quoted on 3rd August 2009.

The first thing I noticed was the size. I had only ever seen Oysters on a buffet in Hong Kong several years prior. At this moment, those Oysters looked like some sort of undernourished distant cousin. This was the single largest oyster I had ever laid eyes upon, I felt that I should be attacking it with a knife and fork, not simply knocking it back as is traditionally suggested – I could choke on this. I started……… and then stopped asking the tattooed Maori in front of me if he was familiar with the work of Dr. Heimlich. Despite my concerns I slid the huge specimen down. Having chewed and swallowed, I was instantly converted. This was the most delicious, invigorating product I had ever let pass my lips: the apotheosis of refreshment. The iced pint of Coca – Cola, served with a thick wedge of lemon, enjoyed on a blisteringly hot day in Bournemouth had lost its’ crown. Finally an untainted natural product had overtaken the best that the world of synthesised, sugary drinks could offer in terms of refreshment. – This road side shack between Paihia and Auckland had just taken on a monumental significance. I felt like laying flowers.

The source of the finest oysters available will forever be debated. The New Zealanders believe it to be their Bluff Oyster, The Australians, their Rock Oysters, if the Belgians (noted as being the largest consumer of oysters per capita) are to be believed then the title falls to our very own Native Colchester Oyster. None of this concerns me, as I believe, as with almost every example of food, it is down to personal preference. One mans oyster is another mans cold porridge. I simply wanted to consume as many of these mouthfuls of bliss as I could. I would obviously find a type of oyster I preferred, but I could never see myself refusing one on the grounds of its’ postal address.

There is then the question of what to do with your oyster once it is in your hands. For me a freshly shucked oyster, dressed lightly with lemon juice, slid from shell to mouth, chewed, passed through the gullet, and finally into the stomach is undoubtedly the best method of consumption. If a living organism is to be put to death in possibly the most gruesome fashion i.e. swallowed alive, then it is necessary to pay it the respect it deserves. This is why you must be fully involved when eating an oyster. It is not just the flavour that needs to be considered, but the texture must also be savoured.

The best oysters are those that, not only taste like freshness itself, but also feel like refrigerated creamy silk, flowing through the mouth appeasing all sensory feelers, sending a message of satisfaction via the Mandibular nerve to the brain, where a party ensues. This is the aphrodisiac that has become a cliché. It is not in the chemical make up, there are no reactions going on, it is simply the luxuriant texture that reminds you of everything indulgent. It evokes feelings of decadent pleasure. – This is the power of the Oyster Au Naturel.

When it comes to the Kiwis’ preparation ideas, they seemed to have lost the plot slightly. One can hardly blame them, they have so many. They’re done with the raw thing; they’re too macho to gush over the merits of a fresh oyster. I understand this now, but imagine my surprise when I spotted my first battered and deep fried oyster, sold at the local fish and chip shop. I had heard of cooked Oyster dishes such as Rockefeller and Kilpatrick before leaving, and have since tried both, (Although an interesting change, I do not think either method adds much), but never had I heard of battered, deep fried oysters. I was horrified. Did people know this practise was going on? What is the number for the foodie police? This was an emergency, I needed Ramsey, Oliver, Slater, and Blumenthal to abseil in and right this wrong. Surely this could not be tolerated. But it is. Not only do they batter oysters, they also desecrate the beatific scallop and the huge Green Lips. There are simply too many of them.

I don’t think Oysters Au Naturel will ever be topped, but the recipe below is easy, delicious, and extremely quick – perfect for the van. The Oysters we used were collected from a work site one of my friends was working on: As the tide receded from the private jetty attached to the semi-built house it revealed clumps of small, mud covered oysters. The site, located on the Russell side of Opua Harbour will now almost definitely be inaccessible, with the house, I’m sure completed, and occupied by a wealthy inhabitant, who will not take kindly to scavenging travellers. This site may be gone, but Oysters are prolific in this area. The further they are into the sea the cleaner they will be. Watch out for those located near boat jetties, they will be full of Diesel.

I found myself cooking this dish on the back of a 50ft yacht. It belonged to a South African I had met, Neil. His was a fascinating story: Having left South Africa with 3 friends when he was 18, he now found himself at the age of 20 in New Zealand. He had sailed via Brazil, through the Panama Canal, and then down through Fiji and Tonga, an incredible voyage. The yacht was not his, but had been bought by his father during the most volatile period of Apartheid. His fathers’ thinking being that if the shit hit the fan for his white family, they could load both family and belongings on to the boat and sail off to safety. As it happened Terreblanche was muted, and Mandela walked free. This left the yacht available for Neil and his buddies to tour the World – a trip I am certain they are still on.

It must be said that I spent a lot of time with Neil, Mr. T, Seth, and Chris. They were true travellers, escapees from taxes, and laws, 100% mobile to travel where they pleased. My favourite memory of Neil was when he dropped his kite, whilst Kite Surfing in the middle of The Bay, only to be picked up by a tourist packed jet boat.

Anyhow it was on the back of his boat where we hung the oysters through a tide change to clean them, and it was on the back of this boat where we cooked them.

It was such a nice feeling as we were picked up by the boys in their launch, coasting across the beautiful sun kissed Opua Harbour. It was times like these when I was reminded of my reason for leaving England for New Zealand. I was on a working holiday, and I did work a lot, often two jobs. But this feeling of freedom, and adventure appeased any frustrations built up during the working week. This is the opposite of how it feels in this country, where we are too unimaginative when it comes to enjoyment. Our children are numbe
d by television, and computer games, whilst our adults are retarded by alcohol. The get up and go spirit seems to have been forgotten. Our government seems too wrapped up in bureaucratic White Elephants to constructively deal with social problems. This is the joy of a democratically governed population of over 50 million. Trying to please everyone all of the time does not work, so instead we all live in this constant state of mediocrity. Where are the Neil’s of this country? Why can’t we be rash and irresponsible?

With these thoughts in your mind, be irresponsible and have oysters for breakfast. The following is based on one person eating. Poached eggs can be a pain, so leave it out if it causes problems. In my case, I was using a barbecue, so was able to fit a pan and a frying pan on the grill over the coals.

Poached oysters with Tarragon foam and pickled cucumber spaghetti – serves 2

Method

Mix together the rice wine vinegar, water, caster sugar and salt. Place the cucumber strips into the mixture. Leave to sit for about 10mins. Drain and reserve until needed.

Heat the juice from the oysters in a pan. Add a little water until there is enough liquid to poach the oysters. Bring the liquid up to the boil. Add the oysters and immediately turn off the heat.

The oysters will plump up almost immediately. Carefully remove the oysters on to kitchen roll. Reserve.

Place the shells into a pan of boiling water. Add the shells to the water and boil for about 5min before draining and refreshing. Scrape any of the excess dirt and flesh from the shells. Reserve.

Heat the butter over a medium heat until bubbling. Add the shallots and fry for 2-3mins until softened, but not coloured. Add the tarragon stalks and increase the heat.

Add both the fish stock and the chicken stock at the same time. Reduce over a high heat until halved in quantity. Add the cream and reduce by half again. Pass the sauce through a fine sieve into a clean pan. Using a hand blender positioned near the surface of the sauce froth the cream mixture.

Heat the oil in a small pan over a high heat. When hot (can be tested with a bit of bread. When dipped it should begin to bubble and fry) add one tarragon leaf for each oyster to be served. Fry for about 2mins until crisp. Drain on to kitchen roll and reserve till serving.

To serve

place a small, neat pile of cucumber spaghetti into the base of the shell. Top with the plump, poached oyster. Carefully spoon over some of the froth and top with the deep fried tarragon leaves.

Opua Oyster breakfast – serves 4

Ingredients
4tbsp olive oil
1tbsp white wine vinegar
Squeeze of lemon juice
1tsp Dijon mustard
3 x Baby gem lettuces, leaves separated and washed
Handful of washed rocket
Handful of washed watercress
2tsbp vegetable oil
4 x rashers of smoked, streaky bacon, sliced into 1cm strips
16 x oysters, removed from their shell
4 x toasted slices of chunky bread
4 x poached eggs

Method
Thoroughly mix together the olive oil, white wine vinegar, lemon juice and Dijon mustard until an emulsion is formed.

Toss together the separated baby gem lettuce leaves, rocket and watercress. Add a couple of tablespoons of the dressing and toss again to lightly coat. Place to one side whilst preparing the bacon and oysters.

Heat the vegetable oil over a medium heat. Add the bacon slices and fry whilst regularly stirring until golden and crisp. Increase the heat to maximum.

Add the shucked oysters. They will cook almost instantly. Fry for about 1min turning once. Remove the fried bacon and oyster mix on to kitchen roll to drain excess fat.

Mix together the cooked components with the dressed lettuce leaves. Divide the mixture between the 4 slices of toasted bread. Position the poached eggs atop of the mixture and finish with an extra drizzle of dressing

What do people actually do in the theatre? Does anybody actually care about what’s on stage? I’ve had pleasant experiences in West End theatres, but when I think about why it’s usually because I’ve finally sat down and not had to talk to anybody for an hour or two. I enjoy sitting there quietly contemplating life, but it very rarely has anything to do with what’s happening on stage. I wonder if I’d achieve the same results by sitting in a warm darkened room on a tilting chair, looking at a blank wall through a pair of binoculars, and then eating a scoop of ice cream with a spatula. Perhaps I could burn a £50 note at the end of it just to complete the process.

I’m going to make a broad uneducated assumption here; I reckon most people going to see a play couldn’t care two hoots about the characters in it or the story that happens around them, and definitely aren’t altered by what they see.

But why is this? Theatre used to be important. It was originally seen as a practice ground for real life – the audience would literally see themselves on stage, and could experience genuine emotions in a safe place. In tribal theatre Shamans would enter a trance like state of visions and return with stories that would heal whole communities, and inspire the audience into new real-life adventures.

But now we seem stuck with some kind of over-intellectualized display of actors, who don’t even understand the words they are saying, and a mindless obsession with Shakespeare and boring plays. Rather than just being one type of theatre this has become ‘The Theatre’, and cemented itself firmly behind the fourth wall.

Street acts amaze and dumbfound me every time I see them, even the bad ones. The best act I ever saw was a bloke called Jonathan Kay running across a field in Glastonbury while 40 passer-bys chased after him pretending to be Emus. Why isn’t this ‘The Theatre?’

So perhaps I don’t hate theatre, in fact I love it – I just hate ‘The Theatre’.

I say fuck the fourth wall. Theatre producers have failed to realize that there is already a medium that excels at entertainment from behind the fourth wall – it’s called the television.

I can quite happily masturbate in front of flat screen fourth wall of my television without affecting the performance of the actors in Hollyoaks. Unfortunately it probably wouldn’t affect the performance in plays either, although a mobile phone going off would be a different story.

Theatre seems to have turned into a shit version of television for people to go to when they want to do something different from watching television. It’s even started to attract actors from television who turn up to do a two week run in the West End and wank over the audience and drama school graduates before fucking off to a hotel to tell some wide eyed butt kissing shit head journalist about how they are ‘supporting’ theatre.

So fuck the fourth wall. If you’re going to go to the trouble of having real life actors on stage I want to smell them. I want big hairy smelly actors brushing past me on the way to the stage. Perhaps they could even punch me in the face before the interval just so I know I’m alive.

But I don’t want some kind of contrived ‘audience interaction’ where some hapless sap gets pulled up on stage to look like a gormless contestant on the Generation Game. I just mean that maybe theatre should mean more, should be about us, should affect us, should actually be influenced by who we are, instead of just mindlessly broadcasting what it thinks we should like.

I can quite happily masturbate in front of flat screen fourth wall of my television

If you leave a play thinking ‘it was above you’, then don’t. If you don’t understand a play it’s the playwright’s fault, he’s done a shit job, he hasn’t spoken to you because he’s probably stuck too far up his own arse. Go to his house, tell him he’s a c***, and ask for your £50 back.

But hang on, this is a bit negative isn’t it? What do I like? I like lots of things. I like watching good stand up comedians; I even like watching shit stand up comedians. I find it amazing that one guy can write, direct and perform in his own show all by himself and sell more tickets and get more genuine reaction from an audience than a cast of 30 all singing all dancing morons. Why is that? Why don’t we regard stand up comedy as ‘The Theatre?’

I also like some improvisation. There’s a group from London called Showstoppers and another from LA called One Night Stand that make up more compelling, funny, entertaining and meaningful musicals on the spot in one hour than if Andrew Lloyd Webber had his cock in a vice. Why aren’t they in the West End, why isn’t this ‘The Theatre?’

When and how did you first decide to become a chef?
I started cooking professionally when I was 19 years old, and I guess I got into it through my mum. When you’re a kid your parents are a very strong influence and I was brought up on fantastic food. My mum was a brilliant cook and I used to come home to a big family meal which in our house was a big deal. It’s not so much now, which is a bit of a shame. The family would sit down to a meal, and I think, looking back it was my favourite part of the day. So ever since then I’ve always loved food, and I think it was natural, as I got older that the passion progressed and in turn made me want to learn how to cook.

How did your parents react to you becoming a chef?
It’s funny, when I was 16 and my brother was 18 my mum said that I should become a chef and my brother should be a doctor and that’s what’s happened.

…………And your dad?
My dad would support anything I chose to do. In fact when I was about 10 I decided I wanted to be a film critic because I loved watching films. I always thought what better way to pass my career than just sitting watching films all day and then writing about them? And so he said, from now on every time you watch a movie I want you to write a critique of it. So I did. The project lasted for two movies.

Excellent I’d like to see those critiques some day! So after you’d laid down your pen which restaurants did you work in?

I started at Le Gavroche. I then spent two years at Nico’s which has since closed but had 3 Michelin stars. From there on to the Capital under Philip Britten and then to Les Saveurs under Joel Antunes. I guess he was the very first chef to bring the Asian/French style cooking to London. From there on to Marco Pierre White at Hyde Park and then I went to the Oak Room with Marco. I moved from there to the Square, and then to Eric Chavot, which eventually closed down, so back to the Capital. I then opened my own neighbourhood restaurant “Chives” before finally moving here to Pearl.

Wow that’s some CV. It sounds like to get to where you are you’ve not taken any short cuts. What advice would you give to someone who wants to be a chef?
I think these days a lot of people want to be chefs. I get a lot of emails from people saying how much they love cooking, how passionate they are about it and ask advice about how to start up. It’s all great, but I think you have to understand that loving food and cooking at home is completely and utterly different from working in a professional kitchen. I don’t think people really appreciate how much of your life you have to commit to make a career of it. A lot of people give up at some point, they just think enough’s enough and go into recruitment – You go into any recruitment agency and I bet you’ll find a few ex-chefs.

From what you’re saying do you think it is a destructive profession?
Oh yeah, you burn out fast, It’s definitely a young persons industry. You look at all the top chefs in Britain and they’re all in their 30’s and so if you don’t reach your peak before then, then it’s not going to happen. It’s a bit like footballers hitting their stride in their 20’s, chefs will generally hit their pinnacle in their 30’s.

Do you reckon you’ve reached your pinnacle?
(Laughing) I hope not! I’ve still got a few years. But I will say you have to have a plan. It’s so easy to bury your head in work and then suddenly 10 years have passed and you’re not where you want to be. Have a plan: where do you want to go, what do you want to achieve? And then do everything you can to make it happen.

………………….(Pause)

I just want to go back to the question about advice and say you have to have a real passion for food. It is the only thing that will sustain you through going to work and working hard for 20 years. If you don’t have that then somewhere along the way you will give up. Because of the media coverage it’s now seen as a glamorous industry, but the reality of it is that it’s not at all. On a day to day basis it’s very mundane: peeling broad beans, picking spinach leaves, long hours, stressful services……….. the image people have in their heads is very often vastly different to the realities.

Following on from that does it annoy you that people think they can become chefs just because they watch so many cookery programs? Do you think the media coverage dilutes your trade?
No, it doesn’t annoy me. I think it’s great for us chefs that people love watching food on TV; it can only do us good. You look to when I started cooking about 20 years ago, the profile of a chef has completely changed. Now when I go to a party, or meet new people as soon as you tell them you’re a chef there’s an automatic interest, more so than pretty much any other industry. Take my brother for example he’s an Orthopaedic surgeon, very successful at what he does and incredibly intelligent. But if we both go somewhere and introduce ourselves: he says he’s an Orthopaedic surgeon and I say I’m a chef, people relate more to me and are more interested in what I do even though what he does is so much more skilful, and if you get into it, so much more interesting. I think that is what the food media has done for cooking and ultimately for chefs.

Moving on to food: what inspires you? How do you constantly come up with new dishes?
You know what? Inspiration comes from everywhere. You go through patches where you experience something like writer’s block and you just can’t come up with new dishes. The thing that I always do is to go round the market, because ultimately the produce is what it’s all about. I think it’s about triggering the senses. So you could go and see a beautiful courgette – the round ones have just come in. You can literally see a pallet of them and you automatically think they’re beautiful and you get an urge to cook with them. That starts your mind working. Then you see some beautiful tomatoes, it all helps to trigger your creative side and makes you want to do something with it. Being stuck in the kitchen day in and day out isn’t healthy. You have to get out.

I want to move on to the subject of Michelin. The food, presentation and atmosphere in the restaurant are all sublime, but you don’t have a Michelin star. Does that bother you?
Honestly? It bothered me much more about three years ago. In fact I would say it bothered me a lot because at the time that was something we were really focused on achieving. Although it isn’t so much of an issue to me now I would still love to be awarded one, it’s something that I definitely strive for, but at the end of the day I get a lot from the praise of customers and ultimately I have to concentrate on making a profit for the restaurant. I would like to add that I think Michelin is brilliant: any accolade in any profession that people in the industry aspire to, and work hard to achieve can only be good. Having something like Michelin – which most chefs would like to achieve – is a great thing because it pushes everyone to be better than they are. I don’t agree with some of the Michelin restaurants out there but ultimately it is a guide judged by people and people have different opinions.

Moving on to some slightly more trivial questions: what food do you crave when you have a hangover?
With a hangover?

I haven’t had a hangover for years. It’s true. Alcohol and I don’t get along.

OK, that put a short stop to that. Let me slightly re-phrase the question: what is your ultimate comfort food?
I guess it would have to be something Japanese orientated that contained rice. I’m going to say my mum’s Katsudon. It’s a battered pork chop, coated in Japanese breadcrumbs sliced up. Then you do a little sauce which is basically onions and eggs cooked in a stock which you then pout over the pork and rice.

If you were on death row, what would your last meal be?
Erm. I don’t think I could eat anything. I don’t know how they could eat something. Do you really think they do?

Yeah they do, but it’s normally a cheeseburger or something mundane. There really aren’t that many gourmands awaiting execution.
Ok you’re saying anything? Well then I’d ask them for something that would take them a long time to get like Bird’s nest soup.

What would you one desert island ingredient be?
Easy. Salt

Any guilty food pleasures? Doner kebab, McDonald’s, Pot Noodle?
I love Indian takeaway, but that’s not really a guilty pleasure is it? You know what another program once asked me that and I said Pringles just to say something. I completely made it up.

Ok if you’re going to have to make one up then let’s skip the question.
You see the thing is my mum never fed me and my brother crap, so I’ve never had a palette for it. Everything she always cooked for us was fresh. She would never do any ready meals or anything like that. The only time we used to complain about her food was when she gave us chips. So basically I don’t eat any embarrassing foods because they were never part of my growing up.

Moving on: if you could have a dinner party for four people and you could pick any chef to cook for you then who would the guests be and who would be in the kitchen?
Ultimately if I was having a dinner party then I’d invite my mates. The person who I would have cooking for me would be……………………….(Jun now pauses and thinks for about 5mins)……………..Thomas Keller. I tried to get into his restaurant in New York recently and couldn’t get a table. So yes it would be Thomas Keller.

And finally: are there still chefs whom when you meet them you are still totally awestruck by?
Yeah people like Jöel Robuchon whom I met last year at the Taste festival is the sort of person who I look up to and aspire to. I grew up reading his cook books, and you learn to admire their skill and vision. Alain Ducasse is another great chef who I was lucky enough to meet at the opening of his new London restaurant. They’re the people I get excited about meeting, not famous rock stars or Hollywood actors.

Thank you for your time.

Herb Crusted New Season Lamb with Broad Beans and Peas

Serves 4
Ingredients

For the crusted Lamb
½ Loaf of sliced white bread
1 Bunch of Parsley
½ Bunch of Thyme
1 x Garlic clove, peeled
4 x 200g portions of Lamb Fillet
2 x Egg whites
Large knob of butter

For the Broad Beans and Peas
25g Butter
150g Chestnut mushrooms, quartered
150g Broad beans, blanched and de-shelled
150g Peas, blanched
200ml Chicken stock

For the dressing
1 x Bunch of Basil
1 x Bunch of Parsley
2tbsp Dijon mustard
1 x Garlic clove, peeled and roughly chopped
2tbsp Capers
Juice of ½ Lemon
250ml Olive oil

Method

Pre heat the oven to 200˚c
Place the slices of bread into a food processor and blitz until a rough breadcrumb is reached. Place the crumbs on a baking tray and place in the oven. Cook for about 10mins turning regularly until the bread is well dried out.

Place the crumbs back in the food processor and blitz again to reach a very fine crumb. Place the remaining ingredients apart from the eggs and the lamb into the food processor and blitz together.

Season the fillets. Take one fillet and dip into the egg white. Remove excess whites from the fillet before dipping into the breadcrumbs. Coat the entire fillet with the crumbs and place to one side. Repeat the process with the remaining fillets.

To cook the fillets: heat the butter over a medium heat I a large, oven proof frying pan. When the butter starts to bubble add the coated fillets. Turn once and then place immediately in the oven.

For a rare fillet cook for about 8mins turning after 4mins. Leave the lamb to rest for a few minutes.

For the Broad beans and the peas
Melt the butter in a sauce pan over a medium heat. Add the mushrooms and cook for 2-3mins till they have taken on a little colour and have softened slightly. Add the broad beans and the peas. Cook for a further minute. Add the stock, and bring up to heat.

For the sauce
Place all the ingredients into a food processor reserving half of the olive oil. Begin to blitz. If need be then continue to add the olive oil to reach a smooth sauce consistency.

To serve
Place a pile of the Broad beans and peas in the centre of the plate. Slice the lamb into 1.5cm slices and place on top of the beans. Circle the dish with sauce and spoon a little over.