Vals Kitchen

Greece is the word

Before it becomes an archive, and before we all get consumed by the consumption of Christmas, I want to do a post on Pyrgos in Greece, where the Film Festival was on. Pyrgos was generously described in the Lonely Plant as "having nothing of interest to the visitor". Coming from Limerick, which was also described in the Lonely Planet as "best seen through the back window of a bus", I'd like to take the chance to shove their too powerful criticisms up their arses.

The town of Pyrgos is unassuming yes, and incredibly friendly and full of gorgeous, well dressed Greeks. There are lots of great little restaurants serving all the usual Greek home-cooked specials like beef in red sauce, chicken in white wine, meatballs, mushrooms with cheese, deep fried yellow cheese and of course endless Greek salad and feta cheese. In the mornings the town heaved with shoppers out to get the best fo fresh fish, meat and vegetables. The afternoons were sleepy, yes, but that's normal there. After two days the guy at the take away knew how I liked my coffee and cheese pie, yum. The fast food is better than some restaurant food here. Our hotel, the Odysseus,  bears a striking character resemblance to Fawlty Towers and is staffed by whacky, funny guys and Miss Lisa. It's on a deserted, undeveloped beach and is simple but relaxing. About 20 minutes away by bus is the ancient city of Olympia where, yes you guessed right, the first Olympic Games were held thousands of years ago.

I spent an hour round the town one morning with my camera and I had great, engaging moments with everyone. They gave me presents of Ouzo and chocolate and salami. Instead of just fecking off with my photos I decided to give something back this time. I took my photos to the local lab, had them all printed, and retraced my steps and gave everyone their photos. It made for an even sweeter few days as now when we passed everyone came out to say hi or to rub my boys heads and shake their hands.
So Lonely Planet, I say (what's that sound you make when you stick your tongue out like a bold child?). And to Pyrgos I say thanks.

These boys were enjoying their lunch at the local butchers shop, as you do. See the cowls on the carcasses, something you rarely see any more.

This man owns the cheese shop and was keen that I got his "beloved" into the photo. She was suitably mortified as you can see.

This gorgeous couple are still obviously bonkers about each other, they have a where they sell Ouzo that they make themselves and store in huge barrels.

You haven't been to Rovinj?

I’m not one for bringing my laptop on holiday, or for nipping off to the nearest internet café to upload my holiday snaps onto my flickr account. That said I haven’t blogged in a bit as I’ve been off in sunnier, nicer and a more amazing place for a week and I’m back to dark, gloomy , what did we do wrong to deserve this poxy climate? Inspired by a feature in my favourite food magazine Delicious, I booked flights to Pula, the capital of Istria which is, in  Northern Croatia. . Promises of artisan food products and fresh fish caught my drooling taste buds and off we went.

 

now call Artisan producers is very much the norm here. Fish provides the backbone of a simple but substantial Mediterranean diet and most fish is simply prepared by either grilling or frying. It is accompanied by their very typical potatoes with a type of spinach that they translate as Swiss chard except it isn’t really like that. You can almost taste the mineral content and know it’s doing you good, even through all the red wine and brandy.

Pula at first seems ok. It has an amphitheatre, some gorgeous windy old streets and a fab town square. I was going to book a table at the feted Valsabbion Restaurant but was advised that it was quite far up it’s own privates so we went instead to Vela Nera, just down the harbour in an affluent spot full of moored yachts. I felt right at home. We feasted on fish Carpaccio, giant langoustines and risotto made with peaches and champagne. With a bottle of Malvasia, one of the regions many fine wines, and a view of a stunning sunset over the chiming of rigging, I was happy with our destination. Istria is hailed as an up and coming food producer in

Europe

. Air cured ham; hard sheep’s cheese and excellent olive oil are all locally produced.

 

Rovinj (pronounced Roveen) was our port of call for five days following. This stunning coastal town sits atop a rocky outcrop and is made up of tiny, shiny, windy streets topped by a stunning cathedral and spire. It’s a popular spot for artists to set up studios, they fall in love with the town and the light, and it’s easy to see why. Our hotel, the

Adriatic

, was right on the harbour and had one of those views that, quite literally, took my breath away when I opened back the shutters. The daily market was minutes walk away; it’s where I got these figs on the window. I tried to go local by shopping early but my lack of Croatian or Italian gave me away. Everybody spoke German to me, when I protested in fluent German that I am not, in fact, German, it did me no good. Verbose market sellers eagerly handed over bottles of dark green nutty olive oil, huge jars of honey with the honeycomb inside, olives, ham and cheese. I returned to the hotel grinning like the cat that got everything, as well as lots of fresh fruit for a day’s picnic. It’s easy to hop on a boat and go across to the islands of St. Andrea or St. Katherina for a bit of swimming off the rocks in the crystal water. See how the other half live as they pass days lazily asleep aboard their yachts or falling into the deep blue for a dip.

 

 

Rovinj comes to life at night when the waterfront plays host to lively restaurants and theatrical waiters touting their wares. We went to none of these places as; generally they are not as good as places off the main drag. The harbour is great to watch the glamorous strut by, each tanned Venus or Adonis more stunning than the next, many licking ice creams from the glut of ice cream stands. I didn’t let that stop me stuffing my face every night at a different restaurant. Restaurant Balbi served up the best fish plate for two with whole sea bass, bream, octopus,  mussels and prawns. Al Gastaldo was a slightly pricier treat and I had an amazing fillet steak with truffles followed by a hazelnut semi-fredo. This place is adorably old style on the inside with white lined hanging from everything. The tables balance precariously on the cobbles in the tiny street, but it doesn’t matter, that’s where everyone wants to sit. We were charmed by the place as its head waitress, Tessa brought us a bottle of excellent local Merlot and then closed up shop telling us to simply leave the bottle and glasses on the window sill as we sat sipping in the quiet night under dreamy streetlight (sigh).

 

Anyway all the fish and steak and wine was great but I was on a quest to have a really good spaghetti marinara, one of my favourite dishes. Veli Jose was recommended so we sat in to the seemingly over tourist place on our last night. The atmosphere was lively and hectic and the marinara was so good. It was deep in flavour, full of baby octopus and the pasta was cooked perfectly. Another bottle of Malvasia, brandies and grappa’s tuned it into an even better night and we rolled ourselves out to enjoy a last cocktail at the too hip

Zanzibar

club.

 

Ropey heads made for challenging packing as we rolled my purchases of wine, olive oil and honey up in towels and crammed them into our rucksacks. Nobody told me the Ryan air limit was 15kg so my cheap buys cost a little more in excess baggage! When we got back I unpacked everything as happily as a smuggler at Christmas. I tried to replicate our Istrian feasts but our tomatoes taste nothing like theirs that are bursting with juicy sweetness. But I still have all my other goodies to get through and one more thing to do, plan my next trip back to Rovinj.

Cold Coffee in a Hot Climate

As the long, warm pre- summer continues to befuddle I continue sipping on cool, icy drinks at my kitchen table. A friend yesterday invited me to a local café for a cuppa. I imagined the cramped, stuffy, mall interior and a luke warm Americano, then I remembered my Vietnamese coffee filters gathering dust at the back of the cupboard and insisted she come over to mine. I would, I promised, make her a coffee to remember.

Coffee in

Vietnam

is nothing like it is here. If you take it hot and black, cold and black and sugary or cold and milky, each way far removed from our gentle coffee experiences in the West. The little metal thing you see in the picture is simply a filter into which goes about two heaped teaspoon of finely ground fresh coffee. On top of this you pour boiled water and pop its lid on. The white goo in the glass is sweetened milk; the coffee slowly falls onto it until all the water has dripped through. You then take the filter away and mix up the coffee with the milk and pour everything over a tall glass of ice and stir it up again. This slow ritual produces an almost dessert -like sweet milky treat.  With so much ice clattering around your glass you could close your eyes and imagine you’re sipping a cold liqueur on the veranda of the Continental Hotel in

Ho Chi Minh City

. 

Vietnamese coffee pulls plenty of punches and is served thick and syrupy, it’s almost unpalatable without sugar but when you do get it into you the effect is like being punched in the face by a hyperactive kangaroo. I brought these filters back from my last trip to

Vietnam

, my favourite country to visit and somewhere I was heading to this time last year. In the markets the variety of coffee on sale from giant jars lining the walls is immense. I bought coffee beans that were roasted in butter, just to be awkward. I had a lot of trouble coaxing anything like the flavour I had from them in

Vietnam

so if you do buy coffee over there, have them ground before you leave.

The vivid greenery you see in the photo is from my recently planted pea plants, gourds, tomato plants and sunflowers. The peas are flying up and I think I may have put too many in the one trough. My fingers aren’t very green so any tips for the peas are most welcome. I did a good job with the tomatoes last year so I’m ok there. The gourds aren’t edible, I bought them as a throwback to my German years, and they use them as ornaments over there….. If anybody wants a decorative gourd just send me a huge SAE.

I'm Czeching In

Trips in the past to have often been built around the cheap cocktails and late nights out in dodgy bars. Of course the incredible architecture and history of the stunning city is important too. The first time I saw the

Charles

Bridge

was about thirteen years ago after driving from

Brussels

in a mini-bus full of ex-pats on their way to a drinking weekend with the Hash House Harriers (we all have our embarrassing past). The turrets and golden rooftops peeping out from the trees on the other side of the bridge was a breath-taking sight, made even better by the complete lack of tourists. At high season you can hardly squeeze your way onto this bridge, one of the Seven Man-Made Wonders of the

Czech   Republic

. This time the city was busy, the bridge was a bit like

London

Bridge

at rush hour, but much prettier. The best time to enjoy Prague is in the winter, with furry hat and thermals at the ready, snow in Wenceslas Square will leave you with cold war memories, preferably with a bit of love in that cold climate.

Culinary speaking I went on my weekend trip with no expectations. Italian restaurants abound and I had no intention of eating pizza every night. The breakfast in the Hotel Yasmin was no great shakes so a stroll down-town to the excellent Bohemia Bagel would provide the salty sustenance after the cocktaily first night on the town. This place does the best bagels and in the past I have brought large bags of them on the plane home and stank the flight out with onion and garlic. I would stash the goodies in the freezer when I got back, basking in my own cheek at knowing I brought them myself from another country, tucking into them for the weeks to come. The breakfasts at Bohemia Bagel are man-size. My Charles 4^th Stack was a platter of fluffy pancakes, maple syrup, juicy sausage patties, fried eggs and bacon. Just as well there was lots of walking to do. I ordered a pulled pork sandwich to go, for a snack later but also because I just had to try it. The meat was so tender and juicy, topped with roasted peppers and stuffed into a huge submarine roll.

Food stalls around the city strain under the weight of hundreds of sausages hanging and cooking on a huge grill. I tried a blood sausage with mustard, it was better than I expected and the bright red colour only put me off a little. A pork skewer with gherkins and mustard was washed done with a cold pilsner and then I saw the huge pork haunch roasting on a spit. I was just too full and couldn’t face it but really wanted to try it. The smells of roasting meat fill the streets of and people standing around munching on their protein-packed snacks makes for a buzzy, relaxed atmosphere of eating. Perhaps the most famous of all regional dished is Goulash with bread dumplings and I had an excellent one in a restaurant which was on the door-step of the hotel which I found on the last night, which turned out to be the best and a local favourite. I had to have the whole “Pork Knee” which I spotted being carried through the restaurant by huge, surly waiters. I got lots of stares from other diners as I tucked into this huge piece of meat on a giant skewer, on a stand with sauerkraut, gherkins and horseradish on the side. The meat was perfectly tender with crispy, juicy skin. I almost ate everything, but had to leave room for desert.

As deserts go the ice cream at Coliseum Pizza, which is upstairs in a shopping mall and full of gorgeous Italians, is the best in town and well worth having after another excellent meal.

In the old town I had often passed an adorable-looking place, art nouveau French style patisserie, Gourmand au Gourmand. This time we went in. Their quiches all looked delicious but a tray of Croque Monsieurs caught my eye and nose so I ordered one. I had never before eaten this French institution of a sandwich and now I’m besotted. Two thick slices of brioche (I think) were filled with smoked ham and covered in béchamel sauce and cheese and grilled to make a bubbly crust. This is a meal in itself, and what a meal. I will be searching my Larousse and making my own at home. Reports coming soon. As we enjoyed Kartoffelpuffer with smoked ham and sauerkraut on the terrace of a riverside restaurant, enjoying the magnificent view of the

Bridge

and

Prague

’s many beautiful turrets I really didn’t want to leave. It’s a city full of treasures and surprises and the food isn’t half bad either.

Charles

Prague

Prague

Very Lazy Chicken Soup for the Soul

Rumour has it that January is a nasty month with lots of downers and coughs and colds after everybody stops the party mayhem of Christmas. Today I felt nasty and chesty on my way back from work but also like I could eat a horse. The last thing I felt like doing was cooking but the last thing I felt like eating was junk or anything ready made. I wanted something hot, something warm and reassuring like a chunky spicy soup but without the effort. The kids had to be fed too and they don’t like spicy food yet, I’m assuming they will when their taste buds have been eroded by me and my love of curry.

I detoured to the supermarket on my way home and bought a roasted chicken from the deli counter. These are great for laziness and are real food (please lets not go ethical on a rainy Tuesday) and will feed at least four people with left-overs for the next days sandwiches. I had curry paste in the fridge and a sack of Basmati rice from the Asian supermarket, the rest I would wing with frozen veggies.

In

Thailand

curry soups are served with  a bowl of rice and lime wedges, coriander and other bits and bobs. That’s all good but it’s perfectly fine as it is, though the rice does turn it into a full meal. The kids got chicken and rice with soy sauce, that’s not even cooking.

Thai Yellow Curry Soup

Serves 2

1 heaped tblsp Thai yellow curry paste (go as hot as you dare)

2 tblsp sweet chilli sauce (the kind for dipping, also from Asian shops)

1 tblsp soy sauce

1 can coconut milk

500ml chicken stock (from a cube is fine but by all means use home-made)

A good handful of cooked chicken

1 portion frozen veg, cooked( I used a mixed bag of corn, carrots and broccoli)

1. In a medium pot over a medium heat fry the curry paste gently in a little oil, add the chilli sauce and soy sauce and stir to combine.
2. Pour in the can of coconut milk and the stock and bring to a simmer.
3. Add the vegetables and chicken and heat through
4. Serve in a large bowl sprinkled with Thai fish sauce, coriander and a squeeze of lime juice.

If you don’t eat meat make this with potato or sweet potato as well as the other veg and use vegetable stock instead.

Chicken Noodle Soup

The photo here shows a man enjoying a bowl of noodle soup for breakfast in the early morning business of Ho Chi Minh City. I did take my own photo at home but it just doesn’t cut it.

There are as many variations on Noodle Soup across the world as there are types of cheese in France. The vast continent of China has raised a population of billions on the stuff; Vietnam fought wars and defended the country fuelled by its goodness. From Mongolia to Tibet, and more recently from Brussels to Dublin, steaming, fulfilling Noodle soup can be found to satisfy even the most man-size hunger. I wax lyrical about this dish as it is so much more than that. Where else in one bowl will you get protein, in the meat or fish, carbohydrate in the noodles, vitamins and minerals in the bean sprouts, herbs and garlic, all topped off with wonderful warming broth?

Noodle soup is the original fast food. In Vietnam a tiny soup kitchen, no more than a hole in the wall, plays host to a busy woman and her stockpot, bubbling away with a secret recipe. When you order your bowl of Pho (as the Vietnamese call it), the soup mistress takes some fresh noodles from a large pile; these are placed quickly in a basket and heated in a steaming pot of water. The hot noodles are moved to your soup bowl and topped with shreds of meat, the meat used to make the soup stock of course. Little specialties of the house, or an extra seasoning is thrown in and the whole lot doused in the piping hot liquid. At your tiny table will be chop sticks, chili sauce, fish sauce and a plate piled high with Vietnamese basil, mint, coriander, bean sprouts and red onions to pile on as you wish. Pho fuels the nation and no two bowls are the same. On a recent trip to Hanoi our hosts brought us across town to a famous pho shop teeming with hungry locals. The owner, a stern looking woman with tight smile and a sharp tongue shouted abuse at one of the waitresses, nobody batted an eyelid.

I’ve read that chicken soup is good for the soul, I don’t know where that comes from but it soothes and nourishes just when you need it in winter months like this. After several attempts at fast versions from trendy cook books I have finally come up with my own adaptation. It is inspired by the famous Hainan Chicken Rice method for the chicken but it works well for the noodles too. Sorry in advance to any purists. This great for the whole family as you can enjoy it plain or embellished with fragrant toppings.

Chicken Noodle Soup

You will need

1 very large pot, big enough to take a whole chicken plus extra
1 chicken, the size is up to you, preferably organic
2 cloves garlic peeled
4 coin size slices of fresh ginger
1 onion
2 carrots
Water, at least 4 litres

Noodles, any kind
Soy sauce to serve
Fresh bean sprouts, sliced chilies, spring onions, mint, coriander all this is up to you

Skin the chicken whole, if you don’t want to do this ask the butcher to do it for you
Place the chicken in the pot and cover with cold water, add the other ingredients and bring to a boil
As soon as it is boiling turn the heat down to so that the water is barely bubbling, leave it cook like this for an hour. A quickly boiled stock will result in a cloudy looking liquid and a slow cooked one will give you a lovely clear result. The chicken will be meltingly tender and moist if you cook it like this
Let the chicken cool in the pot for at least and hour (you can easily do all this the day before you want to eat it) then return it to the heat.
In another pot cook your noodles according to the pack instructions
Pile the fresh herbs into a plate and put in the centre of the table for people to help themselves
Divide the noodles between the bowls, top with some chicken and ladle over the hot stock, top with your chosen accompaniments and season with soy sauce.

For a Vietnamese variation use fish sauce and limejuice instead of soy sauce. The possibilities are endless. Leftover chicken and stock can be kept in the fridge for up to two days

Download noodle_soup.doc