FOX AND GRAPES: WHEN THE SUN DOESN'T SHINE AND IT'S CLOUDY AND GREY

Alighting at Wimbledon Station for the first time in about, oh, a quarter of a century was a shock in a sort of reverse Life On Mars way: what, pray tell is a Starbucks and what could one possibly do in a Giraffe? Certainly, much has changed in these parts since I used to meet Ian "Wildman" Burns and JDW for a few pints in The Alex before a few games of three-and-in and keepie uppie (jumpers were used as goalposts, obviously).

Up the hill in the village there’s a better class of chain in keeping with the million pounds or thereabouts that folk spend on quite modest properties and where people still commute on horseback (it’s true - I saw them).

Here too, is the wild and woody common where hardy souls go for a run and walk their dogs and where we three used to annoy the golfers. Afterwards, we probably went to the Fox and Grapes, but I doubt it looked anything like it does now since being taken over by the brothers Bosi, one of whom, Claude is a two-star (count ‘em) Michelin chef; and if you want to know what a Frenchman's idea of a pub is then the F&G is a fine example.

It’s a rather gussied-up place - much in the style that Gordon Ramsay used to employ when he was a successful restaurateur. There’s a small bar which you're not really encouraged to prop up by virtue of it being really small and surrounded by barstools. A couple of real ales I tried though were in good condition - so it's not all for show here.

After quickly deciding we didn’t want to pay £2.50 for bread and butter we essayed some snacks to go with our cocktails. Unfortunately our Scotch Eggs came with a solid yolk which is an immediate fail (as I believe the youth would have it).

Of the starters proper a Pork Pie tasted pretty good and the accompanying piccalilli was superb but pushing out a thinnish slice of the pie for nearly a tenner seemed a bit greedy - if they'd called un pâté de porc en croûte it may have softened the blow.

Of the other starters the Ox Liver Pate was the best, the Eel and Ham jelly being a bit bland and the Crab on sourdough just plain nasty.

Main courses were better. Tripe gratin was a dish to convert even the most ardent of tripe haters. Quite delicate and refined and coveted by the slathering dogs who had dragged their owners in (yeah, right).

Chips were triple cooked and very good and there were nods of approval from my dining companions as they ate their Chicken Kiev and Pork Belly. The latter came with and apple stuffed with Black Pudding so was hard not to love.

Ice Cream.

A second visit a couple of weeks later and the menu had contracted somewhat (read dumbed-down) no doubt owing to the larger number of families eating out which might have found dishes like tripe a tad challenging.

The Scotch Egg yolk was perfectly cooked this time but the meat lacked porkiness and was a bit too thin. Pork Scratchings were rather good.

Potted Shrimp showed more ambitious pricing: Nine quid is pretty steep for a starter in a pub. The dish was just about worth it though with good plump shrimp and the proper level of heat - some kitchens are a bit timid with the cayenne.

Fish and Chips was a bit of an odd one. The battered Hake (my Nan's favourite) was cooked well and the chips were excellent although not triple cooked this time, but the serving of fish was small and the peas were sort of crushed petit pois – the person who made these has never had mushy peas. A big bowl of steaming hot peas with butter melting all over them would have been good here. The dish as a whole was good but a tad soulless as F&C usually is in more upmarket gaffs.

A Vanilla and Pear junket had the correct texture but was a little underpowered in the Vanilla department and the Pear component wasn't sweet enough. Nice little Cinnamon biscuit though.

Service was fine although it went missing when I wanted to pay the bill. Not a surprise as it was proving to be a very popular alternative to the dull gaffs in the High Street on the day I visited.

For me the main problem with the Fox and Grapes is that whilst the kitchen is capable I'd like to experience its more creative cooking, er, chops. But it seems that may only be possible in the evening which means a schlep from God's own borough of Islington. So regrettably I'll have to leave it to the poshos of SW19 and let's face it if they can afford to ride a horse to work then a £10 pork pie won’t cause them too many sleepless nights.

MALABAR SEAFOOD CURRY: A LITTLE BIT OF KERALA IN LA

After a few days of pretty good eating in the peachy state of Georgia (Savannah post soon come), our return home left us wanting not only a bit of comfort eating, but also in one of those all too rare moods where meat was not top of the agenda.

It was Sybil who suggested we use up a few bags of frozen prawns and scallops lurking at the back of the freezer and, when that was combined that with my own urge for something with a little bit of spice, it had me reaching for this terrific recipe for Malabar Seafood curry given to me by a friend from the southern Indian state of Kerala.

The use of coconut is very typical of many dishes from the area and you could substitute the shrimps and scallops that I used for white fish or other types of seafood. I have made similar dishes with clams, mussels and even chunks of lobster and crab. The key to a great end result is to poach the seafood in the sauce towards the end of the cooking time so that it does not over cook and become tough.

Some versions call for tamarind to be added as a souring agent. While that can be delicious, I find that the addition of fresh lime juice at the very end of the cooking time achieves much the same affect and gives an added freshness to the dish, as indeed does the garnish of grated lime zest.

Definitely worth a try.

INGREDIENTS (Serves 4)
12 Large Shell On Shrimp
5 Large Scallops (sliced into three discs)
1 13oz Can Coconut Milk
1 Can's Worth Of Water
½ Large White Onion (sliced)
3 Cloves Garlic (peeled and minced)
3 Green Chillies (seeded and minced)
1 Inch Fresh Cinnamon Stick
1 Inch Fresh Ginger (peeled and minced)
½ Tsp Fenugreek Seed
½ Tsp Mustard Seed
3 Green Cardamom Pods
1 Tsp Ground Coriander
1 Tsp Ground Turmeric
1 Tsp White Pepper
1 Tsp Salt
1 Tsp Sugar
1 Lime (juice and zest)
Vegetable Oil For Cooking


METHOD
Heat the oil in a large, deep sided frying pan.
Add the fenugreek seed, mustard seed, cinnamon stick and cardamom pods and fry for two minutes to allow them to flavour the oil.
Add the minced ginger, chilli and garlic and sweat for a few minutes until they begin to lose their raw smell.
Add the sliced onion and cook until soft and golden.
Combine the salt, sugar and ground spices and mix with a little water to form a paste.
Add to the pan and combine well with the existing contents.
Cook for five minutes until the spices begin to release their oils.
Add the can of coconut milk and the same amount of water.
Stir well and bring the sauce to a simmer.
Allow the sauce to cook until the contents of the pan have reduced by half.
Add seafood and poach gently until it is cooked.
Add the juice of one lime an stir in gently
Spoon into a serving bowl and sprinkle with lime zest.
Serve with plain boiled white rice and, if you can find them Appams or “hoppers” as they are known (rice flour batter pancakes)

ST JOHN HOTEL: THE ORIGINATOR

There's a pleasing circularity about the opening of this latest branch of St John, a hotel and restaurant in the heart of London's Chinatown, which only occurred to me as I was having a less than satisfying second starter (restaurants, eh?) there: I was eating only a short hop away from Polpetto which occupies what had once been the French House Dining Room AKA St John Mk1.

In the seventeen or so years since the mothership proper opened in Clerkenwell there have been many imitators - the "School of St John" as HS has coined it - which have developed the idea of a few primo ingredients, simply prepared and arranged just so but few have had the chutzpah of the original to leave things as they are. Like that old stalwart Manzi's, the fish restaurant (and sometimes hotel) which occupied this site five years ago, StJ has remained pretty immune to the fads and fashions of the London dining scene.

Walking into the new joint the other day gave me a little frisson of recognition. the clean, white room which always reminds me of a secure facility, where you half expect to see R.P McMurphy (waiters as orderlies); here, the terse menu; there, the small glass tumblers and the smiley, efficient service.  All present and correct.  

And The food? Well they don’t call Fergus Henderson the Mies van der Rohe of the restaurant world for nothing (actually they don’t - I just made that bit up). So there are dishes where the use of white space on the plate is as important as the food. Ok, so the portions are not the most generous around but you get the point (that the plating is part of the shtick).
 
I liked my first starter of Veal Tongue very much.  It had that effortless quality you might get in a plate of food on the continent but seldom find here. Some waxy potatoes, watercress and a mustardy dressing enlivened by capers were mixed with the slices of tongue. It was a little underseasoned for my tastes but that seems to be the modern way - I like things pushed a little in this department.

The dreaded portion control was in the house in a second starter. The pressed Pig’s Head - a variation on the brawn theme - was rather good but there was so little of it that it was more like a seasoning than the main element.  C'mon St J, is your bottom line really going to be compromised by serving up a couple more slices?  Hmmm? The flavours of the rest of the assembly may also have come through more clearly with less dressing.

A main course of Pigeon was better and almost an exemplar of the StJ philosophy. A couple of leg joints had been cooked to rare and were of excellent quality.  There’s no indication of the provenance here - you just take it for granted that the raw ingredients will be very good. The innards had been mashed up and spread on fried bread. They didn’t have a particularly gamey hit, but they weren’t awful. The bitterness of the turnips worked well with the rich bird but I could have done with less liquid sloshing around. Not very St.John.

Desserts have always been a major strength of the kitchen. One was a vibrantly coloured (and tasting) Blood Orange Jelly served with  some segments of that fruit, a blob of preternaturally rich and thick Jersey Cream and the shortest and crumbliest of shortbread biscuits.  The second an oh-so-boozy Marc ice cream, sweetened by the addition of Sultanas and accompanied by a glossy sablé biscuit.

Some decent coffee tailended the meal but at £15 a shot La Vieille Prune was a bit de trop for this diner.

Obviously, this style of food won’t be for everybody - sometimes you just need a bit more of yer actual cooking going on, especially at the prices charged - but if you're in the mood for a bit of minimalism or you want to know where it all started then the St John Hotel will pretty much do the job.  It did for me anyway.