Good things come to those who wait: British Asparagus

I know you can buy asparagus all year round these days, but to be honest I’d sooner poke myself in the eye with it than eat the sad excuse for the stuff imported from Spain, Thailand or Peru that's on offer year round in the supermarkets! Taste it and you’ll seriously wonder what the fuss is all about, only those with a fertile imagination could possibly identify any real flavour in it. For proper asparagus, in all its glory, you have to hold out for the British asparagus season... and until then I'd rather go without.

So the season is long awaited but also desperately short; traditionally beginning on 1st May it runs for around seven to eight delicious asparagus-filled weeks, until the end of June. For me the shortness of the season only serves to heighten both my anticipation and enjoyment of it and I can happily devour it three times a week in something resembling an asparagus feeding frenzy.

We bought our first asparagus of the season on May bank holiday weekend at The Dales Festival of Food in Leyburn. Grown by the Spilman's at Pasture Lane Asparagus, it is some of the best around and we indulged in 2 big bundles of the unmistakable thick, purple tipped spears. Britain's climate means the plant matures more slowly than it does in warmer climes and this helps to develop the uniquely delicate flavour that is so prized by asparagus lovers. Proper British asparagus has an amazingly sweet, fresh grassy taste, similar to peas - only better.
We enjoyed it simply steamed and dipped soilder-style into soft boiled duck eggs, accompanied by some air dried ham and brown bread and butter. This must be what angels eat.

Simple is best where asparagus is concerned. I love it adorned with hollandaise sauce or even just butter and a spritz of lemon. It is also great quickly griddled on the BBQ, even better served with a "fondue" of Brie or Camembert (wrap a whole cheese in a couple of layers of foil and stick it over the coals until it melts, then dip said asparagus into the molten gooey cheese!).

Another favourite is an adaptaion of Jamie Oliver's recipe for Beautiful Courgette Carbonara. Probably not completely authentic, but it is indeed beautiful and only improved by the substitution of asparagus for the courgette.

And yes, eat too much and asparagus can make your wee smell funny. It can even turn it green. The science-y bit says that this is because of sulphur-containing amino acids in the spears that break down during digestion. I won’t be giving that a second thought though as I tuck into yet another bundle of the first taste of summer. Get your fill before it's gone for another year.

Pasture Lane Asparagus
Richard & Sally Spilman Lodge Farm, Helperby, York

Jamie's Italian, Leeds

Having eaten at Fifteen in Cornwall a couple of years ago, and been thoroughly impressed with the whole Jamie Oliver experience, I was keen to try out Jamie's Italian that has just opened in Leeds.

Now, with 10 branches in cities such as London Bath, Oxford, Cardiff, Reading, Bristol & Brighton, Jamie's Italian is essentially a celebrity endorsed high street chain restaurant. Love him or hate him, for my part I am generally a fan of what Jamie Oliver is trying to achieve. This is also his first foray into the north of England and I think it will benefit the city so I am really keen for it to live up the hype and succeed.

The restaurant is housed in an old bank on Park Row and on entering I was immediately impressed with the way it has been sympathetically converted. The old ceiling has been left in situ and is a great feature; rather ripping out the heart of the building many of the original features have been left and incorporated into the new more industrial, modern design.

We arrived around 6pm on a Wednesday evening, early enough to avoid the long queues we'd heard a lot about during opening week, and we walked straight in. The staff on the reception desk consulted the computerised seating plan, which confirmed that there were tables available, and we were promptly shown upstairs. Both floors are dominated by large open kitchens where you can watch the staff at work; the one upstairs is adorned with legs of ham and charcuterie which makes a great visual focal point.

Jamie's Italian is designed to be a neighbourhood restaurant, accessible to all. The atmosphere definitely promotes this; there is a comfortable, laid back feel. Still, there is a vibrant buzz about the place too. I like the large spacious layout and the huge windows lined with dining booths running the length of the upstairs. It's also good to hear some decent music in a restaurant; wholly subjective of course, but a bit of indie pop is a welcome addition in my eyes.

The young team add to the contemporary vibe and were really enthusiastic and friendly, whilst still managing to be efficient and knowledgeable.

The menu is definitely Jamie's take on Italian food; it probably isn't for the traditionalist. I doubt Lamb chop lollipops, char grilled chop steak beef burger or Fish in a Bag make an appearance on many authentic Italian menus, in name at least, but as a concept it works and makes a refreshing change to the usual suspects on Italian menus.

I had to go for one of the impressive looking antipasti starters that were flying out of the kitchen, so chose the Seasonal Meat Antipasti Plank. The wooden plank duly arrived and was propped theatrically on a couple of tins of tomatoes. It consisted of 4 different types of cured meat, all good quality and delicious: Tuscan fennel salami, pistachio mortadella, San Daniele prosciutto and Schiacciata piccante. There was also a ball of buffalo mozzarella and a slice of pecorino topped with chilli jam. It was accompanied by a selection of pickles such as a green pickled chilli, green and black olives and a caper berry, along with a coleslaw of root veg with a lemon and mint dressing.

I also ordered the selection of Italian breads, some of which was made on site, the rest in Jamie's bakery. It included ciabatta, focaccia, sourdough, grissini sticks and 'snappy music bread’ (wafer thin shards of crisp bread). We were also delivered some extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar in a little saucer to dip the bread in. Together they made a great casual starter.

Dave's starter was Sausage Pappardelle. The wide crinkly ribbons of homemade pasta were cooked al dente and came with a sauce of slow cooked Italian sausage, tomatoes and red wine. It was a savoury, meaty gravy rather than the more usual sweet tomato flavor you expect from a ragù, but was rich and delicious.

For mains I chose the Rose Veal Parmigiana; a pan fried tender veal chop encased in a crisp breadcrumb coating and served with a tomato sauce. The veal was tasty and tender, the sauce was gutsy; plum tomatoes laced with whole slivers of garlic and a chili kick. The only minor problem was the fact that the veal was served on top of the wet sauce which left the bottom very soggy. Dave opted for the Chicken cooked under a brick and was served a juicy free-range chicken halved, boned, marinated and then char grilled and served with a warm tomato, olive, chilli and caper sauce.

We accompanied our mains with sides of Radicchio, Rocket and Parmesan Salad and Crispy Polenta chips with rosemary salt and parmesan (yes, you have to order sides separately). The salad was fresh, nicely dressed and tasty. The polenta was a revelation – chunks rather than chips, but they were deliciously crunchy on the outside with soft polenta inside.

This is rustic, simple food but well made with good seasonal ingredients, sourced both locally and in Italy. I was amazed by the amount of flavour packed into all the dishes.

With the generous portions we were too full and had to skip desert. The bill came to just over £60, including a couple of rounds of chilled beers, and although not cheap we felt that overall this represented good value for a mid-range restaurant of this quality.

Jamie's Italian certainly didn't disappoint; it's a great addition to the Leeds restaurant scene. Let's hope he can maintain standards and cement his place offering great quality Italian food on the high street.

35 Park Row, Leeds, LS1 5JL

http://www.jamieoliver.com/italian

Held to Ramsons

Ramsons, probably better known as wild garlic (or Allium Ursinum), is an edible plant species native to the UK. What's more it is bang in season right now. It grows abundantly in moist, wooded, shaded areas and is easily identifiable by its unmistakable pungent garlicky smell and long vibrant green leaves. It carpets British woodlands throughout spring and towards the end of the season it bursts into bloom with beautiful delicate white flowers.

Foraging for wild garlic is straight forward, in fact it is so abundant that the term "foraging" really constitutes an embellishment. There isn't a need to "forage" at all; if you're out and about in the English countryside at this time of year it's almost impossible to miss. Avoid lily-of-the-valley; whilst it looks similar it is toxic, but easily distinguished from ramsons by the lack of garlic smell. Also be wary of ramsons leaves that are growing within leg-cocking range of passing dogs! You should avoid climbing fences, trampling wild flowers and definitely don't dig up the bulbs, but with the application of a little common sense and restraint there really shouldn't be a problem - wild garlic thrives and spreads rapidly so there is no issue to helping yourself.

Unlike its domestic equivalent, wild garlic is prized for its leaves rather than its bulb. The bulbs are edible, as are the flowers which make a pretty garnish, but are much smaller with no separate cloves. The leaves are very similar in taste to domestic garlic, although milder & reather more understated - despite the suggestion of pungency hinted at by the strong smell.

Ramsons have many culinary uses: the leaves are delicious raw or cooked and work well in salads, soups and stews. The leaves are wonderful cooked in an omlette or risotto. I can't wait to try this rabbit and wild garlic risotto from Gordon Ramsay at some point.

However, I was a bit short on time here so opted to make some wild garlic pesto. It will also keep in the fridge for a good few weeks.

Start with 100g freshly picked wild garlic leaves. Discard any coarse stalks, damaged leaves or any stray pieces of grass, but you don’t really need to wash it (unless you’ve picked it from road side verges or are unfortunate enough to have been afflicted with the modern day obsession with "germs"). Throw the leaves into a blender with 50g pine nuts & 150 ml rapeseed oil and blitz for about a minute until everything is finely chopped. Of course you can do this in a pestle and mortar if you prefer. Finally stir in 50-60g finely grated mature hard cheese (I used parmesan, as it was what I had to hand, but something like Quick’s goats cheese would make a great alternative and be more in keeping with the English theme) & ½ - 1 teaspoon sea salt

Fill into clean sterilised jars leaving a space at the top. Press it all down firmly with the back of a spoon to remove any pockets of air (trapped air can cause the pesto to go off). Swirl another 50ml of oil over the top of the pesto to seal the surface. When you come to use the pesto, stir it well before spooning out. Make sure the surface of any pesto remaining in the jar is completely covered with oil before you return to the fridge (this is critical if it is to keep well).

The end result is lurid green and the amazingly fresh, garlicky taste will perk up any number of dishes. I've served it dolloped onto pork chops and with bacon lardons for a pesto pasta, but it could equally be swirled into mashed potato or smeared onto pizza or a baguette for a quick garlic bread.

The Fleece, Addingham

The Fleece in the village of Addingham, near Ilkley, is a regular haunt of ours. I generally tend to dislike the term "gastro pub" but I guess that best describes what they do; it's a fully functioning local village pub that serves great pub food. I feel that this in itself shouldn't set it aside from any other pub in the country, but unfortunately it does.

From the outside it’s a handsome 17th Century coaching inn, inside a very traditional pub with low ceilings, Yorkshire stone flagged floors, log fires and an eclectic mix of old furniture, paintings and paraphernalia. It is relaxed and informal yet can get very busy, but at least this means that there is always a vibrant atmosphere.

More significant than the comfortable surroundings though are their attempts at resurrecting Yorkshire's respectable tradition of honest food and good ale. There are always local beers on tap - usually Black Sheep, Timothy Taylor’s Landlord, Tetley’s Cask and Copper Dragon’s Golden Pippin. There is a decent wine list and they stock a range of delicious Frobisher's fruit juice.

There is also a great dedication to locally sourced food– meat from the nearby Bolton Abbey estate and local seafood and veggies abound. There is even an allotment out the back.
There are no printed menus; it's all chalked up on the blackboards. There is an ever changing seasonal specials board, loaded with dishes such as warm salad of crispy belly pork, Chorizo Sausage & Black pudding, calves liver and confit duck leg with spiced red cabbage. There is always a good range of steaks and plenty of fish options too – usually Mussels (when in season) & dishes like Cornish whole sea bass stuffed with spinach and chorizo or seared Islay king scallops with black pudding.

Offered alongside the specials is a more traditional pub menu including classics such as meat and potato pie, jumbo Whitby haddock and chips, a classic ploughman's, braised Wharfedale lamb shank, fish pie, roast belly of pork with mustard glaze, bangers and mash, shepherd's pie and half roast organic chicken.

This visit we both opted for a fishy starter. Dave's crab puff pastry roulade with butter sauce and tomato salad sounded interesting, his conclusion was that, although delicious, it maybe didn't quite showcase the fresh crab to its full extent. My Keralan spiced mackerel with creme fraiche and wilted greens was delicately fragrant with warm spices, complementing the oily fish well.

For mains we went for the Wharfedale hand carved sirloin for 2. Served on a huge wooden board with a garnish of mushrooms, tomatoes & onion rings, bearnaise sauce and a dish of chips, this is unfussy pub food at its best. The meat was amazing; cooked medium rare, exactly as requested, juicy and flavoursome. Great fat crispy chips and the rich tarragon laden sauce were the perfect accompaniment. However the whole semi-cooked tomato felt largely superfluous and was ignored, by me at least.

This is gutsy pub food with hearty portions to match. It is rare that we eat two courses here and still have room for a pud. The Fleece meat and potato pie would satisfy even Desperate Dan, it just requires the horns. This time was no exception, the steak had us beat and we had to pass on pud.

I have heard complaints that The Fleece is expensive, in particular many seem to object to the fact that accompanying side dishes are charged as extras. However with mains priced from £9.50 for bangers and mash, even the most expensive items from the standard pub menu are less than £14, I am mystified as to why – I actually think it represents great value. Yes some of the specials are more expensive, but being realistic you would pay similar prices to those quoted above if you ate at your local Beefeater and it would be vastly inferior food! The punters are hardly being fleeced.

Admittedly service is not always consistent; like the food and surroundings it can be "rustic" and at times we have found it to be less than well organized, but this is really the only criticism I can level.

The dishes here are probably at their best when uncomplicated and not overly ambitious. I've never had a below par meal here though and will keep on returning for their solidly executed comfort pub classics.

The Fleece Inn
154 Main Street, Addingham, Ilkley, West Yorkshire, LS29 0LY

Paella on the BBQ

Paella originates from the Valencian region of Spain and is cooked in a "paellera" (a wide, shallow pan with looped handles), from which the dish gets its name. It would also traditionally be cooked outside on an open wood fire. Given the glorious spring weather we've been having I decided to replicate this and put my own paellera to good use out on the barbecue.

Start by lighting the barbecue as normal. Meanwhile put a good pinch of saffron threads in a saucepan with a litre of chicken stock and bring it to a simmer. Once the flames have died down and the charcoal has a covering of grey ash, set the paella pan on the barbecue grid and heat a good slug of oil. Next add a finely chopped onion and a couple of cloves of chopped garlic and sweat them off, stirring for 5 minutes or so until softened and starting to caramelise. Then add 4 chicken thighs and once nicely browned add some sliced chorizo and a chopped red pepper. Once this is cooking sprinkle in the rice (about 300g), stirring until the grains begin to soak up the oil.

A note about the rice; the best rice for paella is bomba, a Spanish short-grain rice that is able to absorb three times its volume in liquid. When cooked, the grains remain separate and do not stick together. The rice in paella should be dry and separate when done, not creamy like risotto. Also, it isn't paella if it is made with long grain rice.

Finally add the hot stock and season, gave it a good stir.

It is a good idea at this stage to push any grains floating above the liquid back under to ensure you are not left with any raw rice at the end. Now leave the paella to cook for about 20 minutes, resist the urge to stir but rotate the pan occasionally so the bottom cooks evenly. If the liquid seems to be boiling off too quickly you may need to add a little more, so have some hot water or more stock handy.
Don't worry about the paella sticking or burning; it is authentic to have a crust or "soccaratis" (the caramelized crust of rice that sometimes sticks to the bottom of the pan) and this is the prize in a well-made paella.

It's done when the rice has absorbed all the stock and is just tender.

Remove the paella from the heat and cover the pan with foil. Leave for 5 minutes to cool slightly, then stir in plenty of chopped parsley and serve with fat wedges of lemon.

Delicioso!

Knight of the Black Pudding

Good Friday's breakfast was black pudding, purchased at the Farmer's Market last weekend, and provided one of life's epiphany moments. I've been eating black pudding all my life but suddenly I realised that these were special; not only part of the history and tradition of the area I am from, but when made properly black puddings such as these are a taste sensation - a true delicacy up there with the best. Those of a more squeamish disposition would no doubt disagree, but they would be wrong and are missing out.

I'd encourage anyone to try the black puddings made by champion black pudding maker and "Knight of the Black Pudding", Andrew Holt. His business, The Real Lancashire Black Pudding Company, is based in Rossendale near Bury and their multi-award winning puds are a revelation; made using time-honoured methods, Andrew's recipe dates back to 1879. Traditional black pudding is made from pig's blood (more often than not these days it is dried blood), pork fat, onion, rusk, pearl barley, oatmeal and a blend of herbs and spices all encased in a length of intestine.

The herbs used vary from one maker to another, each recipe a closely guarded secret. In a Bury black pudding you are likely to find pennyroyal, along with thyme, marjoram, pepper and celery seed. It is the traditional "horseshoe" shape and this characteristic spicing that makes a Bury black pudding special. Pennyroyal has an interesting distinctly minty flavour, often likened to camphor, and it is easily identified in Andrew's rich, spicy pudding; it is quite subtle and harmonises completely with the other spices, yet gives a truly distinctive taste to the soft, moist sausage. There is an even distribution of barley and nuggets of pearly white fat throughout and a natural casing. I can't quite believe that blood can taste this good, but at this rate can see why vampirism may be so contagious!

The black puddings we buy in the UK are already cooked; you just need to reheat them. The traditional Lancastrian way to prepare the individual Bury type Black Pudding is to gently heat it through in water at about 80oc for about 10-15 minutes. The difficulty is that the pudding can burst out of its skin so it is important that they are not allowed to boil, hence the instruction for the relatively low temperature. The pudding is then split it down the middle, opened out on the plate and served with nothing more than salt, pepper, a slick of mustard and maybe some thickly buttered bread. That's it.

The straight "sticks" of black pudding are more usually sliced then grilled or fried - delicious severed as part of a full monty breakfast. Again gentle heat is the key as overcooking will cause them to be dry and hard.

As long as man has slaughtered animals to eat, blood sausages have been in existence and most regions of the world have their own variant of a speciality sausage based on congealed blood; drisheen from Ireland, boudin noir from France, morcilla from Spain, Biroldo from Italy & blutwurst from Germany, to name but a few. There are similar variations found throughout Asia and The Americas. They are revered the world over, so much so that in France there is an exclusive brotherhood known as the Chevalier du Gôute-Boudin - Knight of the Black Pudding. Andrew Holt was sworn into this exclusive group in 1998.

So why do many of us in the UK find the idea of eating blood from an animal that has been killed to provide us with meat so disturbing, even offensive? Most of us are carnivores and happy to consume flesh, fat and muscle (and much worse if you eat cheap sausages, dodgy burgers and kebabs), yet baulk at the prospect of eating blood. I guess it is the word and all it's gory conotations. But ultimately we were responsible for the death of that animal so surely the least we can do is pay it the basic respect of eating it all - nose to tail, everything but the squeak. We really have no excuse, especially when it tastes this good!

Black pudding deserves a more prominent place in our national cuisine. Stirred into mashed potato and eaten with a pork chop or roast chicken leg it makes a simple and tasty supper dish. It is also great added into a Lancashire hotpot or crumbled into a stew to give body and is often paired with scallops for an indulgent treat. For the more adventurous it can be incorporated into any number of imaginative dishes and there are some great recipe ideas on The Real Lancashire Black Pudding Company's website showing how versatile an ingredient it is, from black pudding lasagna to crispy won-tons!

They also do a great "chilli bomb" black pudding, the hot chilli providing a spicy flavour explosion to tingle the taste buds; amazingly good. That's for another day though, this morning it just doesn't get better than simply boiled Bury black pudding for breakfast.

New (Blue) Cheese on the Block; Stichelton

It is described as a classic English blue cheese, but it is most definitely not Stilton.

It is in fact Stichelton, a relative newcomer to the English artisan cheese scene. It has been made since 2006 by American cheese maker Joe Schneider, in collaboration with Randolph Hodgson of Neal’s Yard Dairy, at Collinthwaite Farm on the Welbeck Estate in Nottinghamshire. It is produced from organic milk from the farm's 150 Friesian-Holstein cows.

The name Stichelton (pronounced as it is spelt, stitch-el-ton not stick-el-ton) apparently derives from an early name for the town of Stilton, as recorded in the 11th century Doomsday Book. The cheese is actually produced within the allowed PDO (Protected Designation of Origin) geographical area for Stilton and is made to what is essentially a traditional Stilton recipe. So the links with the archetypal English blue cheese are certainly more than tenuous. But crucially Stichelton is made from unpasteurised (or raw) milk and, as such, it is prevented from being called Stilton.

Evidently those Stilton producers who weren't already doing so, began using pasteurised milk after a food poisoning outbreak in 1989. The link with Stilton was unproven but it still brought to an end the use of unpasteurised milk in its production and pasteurisation, perhaps controversially, became one of the factors stipulated in the PDO status for Stilton when it was granted in the mid 1990's.

I was brought up on unpasteurised cow's milk, straight from the udder, and the difference is noticable. I still look forward to visting the farm, to return home with a carton of unadulterated full fat, raw creamy milk from my dad's own herd of Friesian-Holsteins. I firmly believe that pasteurisation does have a detrimental effect on the flavour and structure of milk and think this is well illustrated in the end result of this cheese. Surely many of its fabulous characteristics must be directly attributable to the use of unpasteurised milk.

It is undeniably reminiscent of traditional Stilton, yet Stichelton seems somehow to have an added dimension of flavor and texture. It has a rich, buttery mouth feel, almost moist in texture, with a full flavour that develops in the mouth and lingers afterwards. It is unmistakably creamy, in both colour and flavour, yet there is deep salty sharpness from the well distributed blue mould. This is a sensational cheese.

Stichelton - it's Stilton, only better.

Availability is limited but check out the website for a full list of suppliers; stockists include the Welbeck Farm Shop on the estate and Neal's Yard Dairy (it is also available via the Neal's Yard mail order service).