The Gannets have dreamt of such an adventure for years!
In October 2011, Molly Baz, a New York chef working at a Michelin-starred restaurant, set out with her photographer father Doug Baz on a road trip through large swathes of the American South. Molly and her father photoblogged the entire journey which NPR has covered in a delightful interview on All Things Considered.
The Gannets were recently down on the Wales/England border doing some work. To treat ourselves at the end of the week we decided to find a good farm shop to take a haul back to London with us. One clever Gannet remembered that Trealy Farm Charcuterie was located in Monmouthshire (where we were working), but we were disappointed to find out they didn’t have a any kind of retail shop. Another, even cleverer Gannet got on the phone and hunted down the Trealy Farm office, and charmed them into letting us visit their distribution office near Usk…. and so off we set.
Trealy Farm is an artisan business using traditional methods of curing, smoking and air-drying, along with some modern innovations and technology, to produce wonderful meaty goodness which is rarely produced in the UK. Delicious salamis, chorizos, air-dried and hot-cured products made with lamb, pork, beef, wild boar, venison and rabbit. All of their products are produced from traditional breed, free-range animals sourced from their own farm or other select local farms.
We found owner James Swift charming and agreeable, and happy to discuss his work as well as ours! (Apparently he was a music critic before he was a charcuterist.) (Which isn’t a word, btw, but should be.)
The photo above is only part of The Gannet’s total haul, which included lots of salami (fennel, wild boar, veal & lemon, sobrasada, pepperoni, chorizo), boudin noir, Bath chaps, beef pastrami, air-dried ham, beef and pork, and cured sausages (toulouse, fennel and chorizo).
Some of the mouth-watering books found on the Trealy Farm bookshelf, alongside about a dozen top awards!
Apparently Trealy Farm don’t have an outlet in London and rarely get to any of the markets, though they have plans to try out Broadway Market in Hackney soon. We seriously considered whether we should give up our weekends to selling sausages for them. Maybe just give up everything else and sell sausages for a living. As we joked with James.. you can’t download a salami!
A recent trip to Wales took us by Trealy Farm.
Correction: A recent trip to Wales took us within 25 miles of Trealy Farm, so we took a big detour from Monmouth out past Usk to visit and pick up some of their delicious charcuterie. James, the co-owner, was very gracious and managed to gather the vast quantities of our Gannet-style order, which was then augmented to heroic proportions through the addition of our travelling companion’s selections.
After a full day’s rest, I felt up to cooking something and this morning’s order was bacon butties, a bacon sandwich usually made with big slices of bread, dollops of ketchup and a “fair amount” of bacon. They are very popular in the UK and go by many names.
The Trealy Farm “Monmouthshire cure” bacon has a good amount of fat on it, which is where all the flavour is. I fried the bacon in its own fat over a medium/medium high flame to get the fat to crisp up properly. Fat renders fat, so I once enough had rendered, I took each piece of bacon, tilted the cast-iron skillet and held each rind underneath the fat until the rind was well-cooked. After I sliced the fresh French loaf from our bread machine and laid out the bacon, I removed the excess bacon fat from the pan, turned off the heat and deglazed the pan with ketchup, mixing and reducing the bacon-y ketchup mixture until it became a thick paste. A dollop of that went on each piece of bread, and laid out four pieces of the thick bacon on one half, topping it with the second slice.
Yam Nua. Beef salad.
The Gannets have frequently visited the lovely town of Hereford and environs over the last few years, but this plucky city has been eclipsed by its neighbours where food is concerned–at least if the chaotic consensus of internet fora can be believed. Poor Hereford, so close to Ludlow and Abergavenny and so far away from fine dining! It is within this context that we were very pleasantly surprised by Thai on Wye on West Street, right in the centre of town. We had just finished a hard day at work and were looking forward to a good meal. In the spirit of keeping our options open, we decided to give all the restaurants on our short list a once-over, but we were especially intrigued by the reviews the two Thai restaurants in the town centre had received on the various review sites. It was still a coin toss from the look of the menus, but we opted for Thai on Wye after I noticed there were actual Thai people eating there who did not appear to be staff or the staff’s family members.
As we were sitting down, we received a warm welcome by the only server in the restaurant that evening. She proved to be very much “on the ball” and made sure we had everything we needed the whole evening. Her friendliness and attentiveness, along with the top quality of the food at Thai on Wye were the main reasons we returned there for another meal two nights later and why we can recommend them without reservation. This is simply the best Thai food we have had in the UK. Yay Hereford!
Ped Makham. Crispy duck with tamarind sauce and cashews.
There are many choices on the menu, which could use a bit of re-organisation, perhaps by grouping the dishes together according to course and style rather than by main ingredient (usually meat). In fact, the menu started off with the best method, but got a little lost. We feel most people order according to style, and it has the knock-on benefit of keeping vegetarians out of the “veg ghetto” located at the end of the menu. Nonetheless, we spotted a few favourites and proceeded to order far too much–we are Gannets, after all.
The tom yum goong sour and spicy prawn soup was excellent–this deceptively simple dish is usually our litmus test for Thai restaurants. The yam nua beef salad was slightly less piquant and just as delicious. The see krong moo op, or spare ribs in sauce were succulent, with the meat so tender it nearly fell off the bone.
Pla Manow. Filet of seabass with lemon juice and chiles.
Our server asked us how spicy we would like each dish; spicy was spicy.
Our mains were a comforting yellow curry with chicken, ped makham crispy duck (which the menu recommends), and beef mussaman (mad sa man), which was wonderful and would have been just as good with some local lamb. All of the flavours were distinct and the freshness of the ingredients really came through.
The star of the show turned out to be the crispy duck. It had a lovely tamarind sauce, with the right balance of sweetness to off-set the sourness of the tamarind. It was so good, we ordered it the second night as well, along with a dish our server recommended–pla manow sea bass in a sweet sauce made with lemon juice and chiles.
The Gannets will be in Monmouth soon, which isn’t far away from Hereford at all. Thai on Wye should be expecting us for a third round, this time with reinforcements!
Thai on Wye
15 West Street
Hereford HR4 0BX
namkiing@hotmail.co.uk
Telephone +44 1432 376769
Caviar lunch at BBR., originally uploaded by Savage Pink.
None of my photos came out very well, whether that was due to the ambient light, or the shakes from my espresso martinis, who can say?
This was The Gannet’s first visit to Bob Bob Ricard, much lauded by fellow dine-out-aholics J&T. Decor-wise, it’s right up our strasse. A deco-licious collison of a classic American diner and the Orient Express, BBR is a lush room full of shiny dark turquoise and brass booths. The utterly delightful waiting staff are dressed in pale pink livery which beautifully compliments their surroundings. Sit down in the generous booth and just try to resist the service bell labelled “Press for champagne”.
The food is a marriage of classic comfort food (roasts, posh hamburgers, soups, macaroni cheese) and a thick Russian influence (herring, beetroot and caviar everywhere).
The mojito is such a quintessential summertime drink, and having been the victim of an overachieving mint plant this year, it seemed churlish not to put the demanding herb to its best use. Not long ago I was introduced to a twist on the classic by the lovely folks at Pappagone (it's a nicea place to stuffa you face) which introduced watermelon into the formula. I was sceptical, but it only took a few sips to convince. I've been trying to get the recipe right at home since, and I think I may have cracked it.
Ingredients
*
Method
Put the rum and mint in a cocktail shaker (or the glass will do) and muddle slightly to bruise the mint leaves. Add the gomme syrup (or a mixture of 2 parts sugar to 1 part water is fine) and lime juice. If you're using a shaker add a couple of ice cubes and give it a good shake. Remove the seeds from the watermelon (if that sort of thing bothers you. I'm from good southern stock and we like the crunchy bits.) and put in a blender along with 6-10 ice cubes. Pulse to produce a kind of watermelony crushed ice. Pour the rum/mint mixture into your glass first, followed by the watermelony ice, and stir to mix. Et voilà! This makes about a pint, which if you're anything like me, serves one. More dainty folk can probably get two drinks out of it.
Although originally from Holland, gin shall forever be associated with London. Hogarth’s shocking engravings of a city decimated by “mother’s ruin” are graphic reminders of the time that every market square in London was bordered by gin palaces where the traders could quite literally pour their earnings down the drain. By 1740, 11 million gallons of gin were being drunk every year by a London population of only 500,000.
The most popular type of gin is “London dry”, which is a high-proof spirit, usually produced in a column still and redistilled after the botanicals are added to the base spirit. In addition to juniper, it is usually made with a small amount of citrus botanicals like lemon and bitter orange peel. Other botanicals that may be used include anise, angelica root, orris root, licorice root, cinnamon, coriander, and cassia bark. Unlike Plymouth gin, London gin has no geographical protection and can be manufactured anywhere in the world.
Yet it’s been left largely to the mega-brand Beefeater to fly the gin flag in London. Their copper stills, manned by only five staff, churn out 2.3 million cases a year.
In the last ten years, a trend for boutique gin labels has been gaining strength, and now a handful of London entrepreneurs are hoping that they can help do for gin what micro-breweries and small-batch production has done for beer and vodka in the last few decades.
Sipsmith of Hammersmith produce small batches of 500 bottles or less of their London dry gin (in addition to a barley vodka). The London Gin Co also produce a small-batch, high-end product from their city premises, though they appear to be owned by a Spanish company. Sacred Gin is hand-distilled in Highgate, based on a formula from the time of the Dutch Gift of 1660, when Charles II of England was returned to the throne after the English Interregnum – the Restoration. Juniper Green organic dry gin is produced for the label by the Thames Distillery in Clapham, London. Other gins made in London include Berry’s Best, and Bulldog Gin made with an assortment of rare and exotic botanicals, including Poppy and Dragon Eye, a cousin of the lychee fruit that is an ancient Chinese secret said to boost skin vitality and promote sexual stamina.
London distillers will have to run to catch up with the growing trend for microdistilleries which is already well established in the USA, and includes gin-makers such as Leopold’s, Bluecoat American Dry, Junipero (made by the Anchor Steam beer company), and Aviation.
If small-batch gins ignite the public’s imagination, surely it can only be a short time until some of the grand gin palaces of London are returned to their former glory? Here's hoping…
Most Americans think of oatmeal (if they think about it at all) as magic dust that comes out of a packet,that you add hot water to, and miraculously turns into gluey, sticky crap, unfit for anyone but babies, invalids, and Wilford Brimley.
Sometimes there are raisins. Gluey, sticky raisins.
Oh, brothers and Sisters, I too have fallen under this misapprehension! But I have seen the the light! For I have eaten of the Steel Cut Oats! OK, I hear you over on the other side of the pond, snickering quietly.
Well, to you I say, fuck you.
A friend turned me on to them the other week (at my age, this is what friends turn you on to, oatmeal and shuffleboard)
saying “