Devonshire to Denmark

I find myself in Copenhagen this evening, where it is calm and mild, although we are promised winds and rain for the morrow.

And it is a new year! I once heard it said that what you do on New Year’s Eve you will do all through the year, and so I thought to hedge my bets I’d return to the Devonshire Arms and eat a lovely meal in hopes this will set a suitable tone.

We commenced with potted Suffolk ham hock and very fine toasted sourdough, accompanied by a few darling cornichons and pickled onions, and a pear and Cheshire blue cheese salad sprinkled with toasted pine nuts. We moved smoothly on to a melting featherblade of beef with herbed dumplings. kale mash and tiny roast onions. Thus fortified we were able to take a calm, clear look at the desserts which all sounded spectacular. One of the finest was a hot chocolate pudding with salt caramel ice cream. Just to make sure the chef had chosen the right ice cream to go with this (he had, oh yes he had) we checked out the chocolate and ginger flavours as well, bathing them in warm chocolate sauce for good measure. If this is to be my fate in 2012, bring it on.

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Christmas in London

I had a busy few days since my return from Parma, visiting friends and tootling around town. I decided to avoid the main shopping craziness of central London but had to pass through it a few times en route to here and there. As you can see, they’ve gone all out with the Christmas lights on Oxford Street, which is busy at the best of times and quite insane at this time of year. However, I do like the fact that at Christmas London pretty much empties, and because Christmas Eve fell on a Saturday, everyone scooted out of town on Friday, which meant the shops were quiet on Friday night, and everything quite calm on Saturday. Better news for me than the shopkeepers who are hurting badly this year.

It is always a bit surprising in this hemisphere to catch a glimpse of green among the brown at the bird feeders, but apparently escapee parrots have made themselves at home in England. I’ve been watching the bird feeders with interest and notice the big bruisers – wood pigeons, starlings and magpies – are getting most of the action, while the smaller songsters hop around the edges. The year round birdsong is something I do miss about England.

On Christmas Eve I thought I’d try to get into the carol service at St Paul’s but what with one thing and another just got there too late and was turned away with several hundred others. I had hoped they might have speakers set up to soothe the outsiders with music from within. But they did not, so I wandered about the tent city for a while before heading onwards to Islington where I had an alternative Carol service from my eponymous hostess who served up some mulled wine and Christmas cake while we caught up. I returned to Chiswick and settled in with The Young Victoria and a nice bowl of risotto, and reckoned that was a fine old evening.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Christmas gift to myself was a leisurely day of cooking, which always makes me happy. I had bought a plump little pheasant from the lovely butcher, Macklen Bros, and pot roasted it in wine according to a Katie Stewart recipe. Stewart is revered by many of today’s celebrity chefs including Delia Smith, Sophie Dahl, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and Anna del Conte. The stained old copy of The Times Cookery Book I was working from would not command the full £50+ you’d expect to pay elsewhere, but it has been well loved, and for good reason. The bird was very good – finished with a buttery wine gravy made with beurre manie and pan-fried mushrooms, accompanied by brussels sprouts of course, and some Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall roasted aubergines and potatoes … best of all I managed not to crack a tooth on the buckshot. Outside, all was peaceful and mild. A Christmas walk around the neighbourhood revealed almost nothing was stirring on Chiswick High Road at five-ish in the afternoon.

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Happy Christmas!

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Polpo in Parma

Alas, and all too soon, yesterday afternoon I stepped out of Parma’s crisp winter sunshine to join the Ryanair throng being herded into smaller and smaller spaces in the Giuseppe Verdi International Airport. After a couple of hours spent in Ryanair’s inflexible plastic seats, being pummelled with offers of overpriced newspapers and snacks and lottery tickets to win more Ryanair flights, we landed in the damp and balmy midwinter London darkness. Where in my 2+ hour train+tube journey back across town I had plenty of time to reflect upon the leisurely 10 minute taxi ride to the airport in Parma, and to meditate on my last 24 hours there, which included visits to two of my favourite restaurants in all the world.

For lunch, I went to La Croce di Malta, where there is always something imaginative to be found in the vegetable starters. This time it was a sformato di zucca – a juicy and seasonal pumpkin and potato cake, larded with mushrooms and mozzarella, and sprinkled prettily with Parmigiano-Reggiano. One bliss was followed by another: polpo (octopus) with potato mashed with celery and a pleasingly crisp and bitter little side salad freckled with salt.

 

 

 

 

 

In the evening, I made a happy return to Ristorante Mosaiko where Davide di Dio still works his magic in a cozy corner of Oltretorrente, and whose 30 or so seats are seemingly filled by boisterous diners night after night. The twist here is the chef’s integration of his Naples roots with his training in the kitchens of Australia and Japan, so he’s very strong on seafood, and it’s the only place in Parma where you can find sushi – sometimes grilled – and wasabi in and among the Italian dishes. And he does make a mean dessert.

Here we have insalata di polpo e patate alle olive con involtino di gamberi croccante e wasabi mayo (octopus salad with olives and potatoes with a crunchy prawn roll and wasabi mayo), followed by Branzino in carrozza alle olive con patate, carciofi e salsa al marsala (sea ​​bass with potatoes, olives, artichokes and Marsala sauce): in carrozza is something usually done with mozzarella, a kind of grilled cheese sandwich, but here it was so very much not that, and had a bit of ginger and sesame seasoning, and a bit of zucca (pumpkin) for sweetness and colour.

I might have been tempted by the carpione (salmo carpio) but luckily did not know enough about it to order it, and now I read that this species that had been introduced to Lake Garda is critically endangered. Italy (like anywhere?) is not the home of sustainable seafood and I suppose all I can do in my next life is always remember to take a dictionary and a seafood list with me. Anyway the dessert was not endangered although perhaps my waistline was as I ploughed through the Delizioso pralinato, as I think it was described: a chunk of chocolate surmounted by a kind of airy coffee custard and zabaione (or might it have been white chocolate?) fluff, topped with chewy praline nuggets and a drizzle of warm chocolate.

 

 

 

 

 

If I had a few more stomachs I would have had the Petto d’oca arrosto al miele limone (goose in lemon honey) and the Tartare di branzino e salmone affumicato in casa con mousse allo zenzero e parmigiano e granita di mela verde (tartare of house smoked sea bass and salmon with ginger and parmigiano-reggiano and green apple granita) and not least the Astice scottato al pepe verde con riso basmati e lattuga all’arancia (seared lobster in green pepper sauce with basmati rice and lettuce-orange salad). All I can do is hope not to have to wait another four years before I return.

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Parma mi piace

Managed to squeeze in a little visit to Parma, to see how the place has changed in the four years since my last stop here, and check out the Christmas madness.

For madness it was when I arrived on the last Sunday before the visit of Babbo Natale. It seemed much more commercialized than it had been just five years ago. Shopping frenzy. Christmas market. Everyone out on via Farini.

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve been stomping the old grounds to see what’s new. As we might expect, much is the same, some things different. Sorelle Picchi where I had supper last night has gone much more upmarket, and there is less grump in the proprietorship: the tris di tortelli remains on the menu, and was good, but not as good as the semifreddo allo zabaione and the lovely glass of Passito di Pantelleria to finish.

As I’d always meant to go there, I had earlier lunched at Apriti Sesamo, Parma’s lone organic vegetarian restaurant where vegans, coeliacs and macrobioticians have been finding solace for a decade and a half. It’s tucked away behind the train station – currently undergoing a major facelift – and is small and friendly. The food is not pretty – vegan food leaves me feeling there must be something one can do to jazz up a plate of whole grains – but it’s tasty and filling and the place has a loyal following. The menu offers three courses which are served on a single plate. Mine was sformato di riso integrale (rice and whole grain cake, or square), radici al forno (roasted root vegetables) and torta di seitan (savoury gluten pie).

After lunch I went for a walk in the Giardino Ducale which was much as I remembered it, and strolled along the Torrente Parma looking for nutria, and spotted a gang of them huddling for warmth.

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