A day trip.

A little over a week ago I went to visit my good friend and fellow Sporkmeister (you bet I wrote that) Bob in little old London town. Bob will have you believe that he eats only biscuits and, having seen the inside of his fridge, I can confirm that this is frighteningly true. Why hasn't he died yet? Lord only knows. Anyhoo, while I was around, I made him stuff his big face like any normal person would, and I think he enjoyed it. The highlight of the weekend started off on a trip to Brick Lane and a visit to the endlessly awesome Beigel Bakery. If you've never been there, you're wasting your life. Exhibits A and B:

After all that excitement, it wasn't long before I needed a drink. And some lunch. I know that for some the bagel itself would've counted as lunch, but still. In the words of Gordon Gekko: Greed is Good. And I'm pretty sure he was talking about lunch when he said it too... Right? Anyway, after some shuffling around, we went to the mega-awesome Carpenter's Arms for a refreshing beverage, or five:

The Koestritzer was a new one on me, and I feel like I've made a friend for life. Vedett is always a winner, and it's nice to see things like the Anchor Steam Beer available, especially alongside so many other fine drinks. That Caribbean rum was pretty cheeky too. However, not wanting to let Gordon Gekko down (he wasn't there) we naturally had to have a bit of tuck, and this we did in style. Colchester Oysters, Escargot, and a very fine meat/cheese board were our weapons of choice, and we ate every last bullet. Right down to the, er, handle? I don't know.

Stonking. Even old Biscuity Bob was having a whale of a time. Just look at him:

Ooh, the excitement. This was more food than he'd eaten all month. For real. For his is the wild life. Anyhoo, having dined like greedy fat kings, we toddered on down the road, stopping for drinks hither and thither in our effort to reach a late night whiskey bar who, by the time we got there, wouldn't let us in. Ah London town. You sure are a wild one.

Diary of a morbidly obscene biscuit addict

4.

I have been going through a wildly experimental phase, pushing the boundaries of biscuit eating to the very limits of time and space. I have been on a supersonic journey and have returned with the following knowledge.

COOKIES ARE THE SAME AS BISCUITS IN THE CONTEXT OF KNIFE & SPORK

Ha! Controversy!

I tried to do a bit of research but stopped after one lazy Google search. Turns out it’s all down to the Americans making biscuits wrong right from the off. When they realised that their versions of biscuits weren’t actually all that nice they had to try again. But they couldn’t call them biscuits, they’d already screwed that up and so the cookie was born.

I am going to claim right, here right now, as a self appointed biscuit expert, that cookies are just big biscuits. Yeah Maryland, you’re not cookies, you’re just biscuits, or by my logic only small cookies, which are called biscuits. So says I. And I reckon I’m right. Right?

Enough of this high-brow biscuit existentialism! To the point!

I have recently got into the terrible habit of buying Sainsbury’s white chocolate & raspberry cookies. Casting my eye over biscuit shelves across the land I must conclude that these are possibly the most unhealthy biscuit items ever. Basically a wonderful combination of soft cookie dough, annihilated raspberries (to ensure no goodness remains) and great globs of white chocolate (the only kind of chocolate that doesn’t actually have any chocolate in it!).

Fig 1. These are they. Bloody gorgeous!

If you could describe any food stuff as being comfortable, it would be these cookies. They are so delightfully soft that I just want to get loads of them and make a cookie bed. I would sleep and nibble in equal quantities. I would be a slothful glutton and a fantastic genius to boot. I would start a church of cookie and biscuit disciples will worship at the altar of the little round baked consumables. I of course would never attend and maintain that wonderful air of mystery, and besides by that point I will need to be crane-lifted out of my cookie bed and you’ll see me on the next series of Britain’s Biggest Loser.

And on a side note, they come in packs of four. Which means you have to eat all four. Preferably one after the other in a violent and rather unpleasant scoffing action.

The Pasta Papers: II

I would eat pasta every day twice a day for the rest of my life. You know, if I had to. I’m not Stanley Kubrick. Or whoever that director was who ate one dish every single meal until he was sick of it and then switched to another. My memory is failing me and so is the Internet, but I could swear I read it in the New Yorker. So if someone wants to read every issue from about 1996 to 2001 to check, I’d be very grateful.

ANYWAY.

Here is another pasta dish I ate about four months ago but I’d eat it again right this second if the farmers’ market was in town, even though I just had two enormous bowls of pasta and am feeling a bit sick:




Where the heck did those place mats go? It’s like I’m on safari! In my house! Also there are mushrooms.



But not here! Because I ate them all!



So. Insanely. Good.

I really can’t remember what I did, since I just discovered that I ate this meal in September. But I probably sliced some garlic and sautéed it in some olive oil and then chucked in the sliced mushrooms until they were nice and done and then BAM! fresh parsley and lots of black pepper and parmesan. So good.

The Eggpire Strikes Back!

It happened again. This time I've gone for little tiny quail's eggs, and I lovingly gave each little guy an eggy bath before he was coated in bread crumbs. It made for a crumbier, crunchier, yummier egg all round. There was still some assistance, this time from my mum, as well as time for meat goggles and another losing attempt from Emmett to gain some Scotch goodness. In your face, dogman!

The Triumphant Return of Quality Meats

On the third of December 2010, I left a butcher's shop with tears in my eyes. This is not a normal occurrence. Having lived in the Bedminster area of Bristol for a number of years, I'd long been a fan of North Street's finest butchers, named for its owner, Bob Wherlock. Quality meats, excellent service, reasonable prices, this was the place to buy your bacon. And then something bad happened.

Bob was retiring. Frank was going too. Fortunately, Ken planned to stay on and help the new owners settle in. At least there would be new owners. The mantle was being passed on, a sad thing, but also a sign that everything was safe. Top notch pork pies could still be had. And bacon. And black pudding by slice. And then something terrible happened.

The deal had fallen through. The handover was due to happen on Saturday the fourth of December, but somehow, on the evening of Thursday the second, the deal had gone sour. One of the new guys was pulling out. The feast was over. I went in that Friday unawares, hoping to buy something for lunch, maybe meet the new guys. After a brief chat with Ken, I came out with as much meat as I could carry, and a damp cheek. And I wasn't the only one. By close of play the next day, the butchers had received dozens upon dozens of cards, gifts, and good wishes from literally hundreds of saddened shoppers. 

Christmas deposits were refunded, the shop was cleaned out, the shutters went down.

And then a great thing happened.

All of a sudden, in late January, a small sign went up. Re-opening soon! Then another appeared. re-opening Thursday 27th January! Oh happy day!! Oh dreadful job! I had to wait until today, Saturday, two whole days after it's rebirth before I could get down there and witness it for myself. And thank the lord it was all true. There I was, 8:30 Saturday morning, back in the queue, only to be served by Bob himself, helping out for a spell while the new guys find their feet. And it seems like they're gonna do just fine. Eager, friendly, funny, and with the same great products available, they're gonna fit right in.

In celebration of their return, I treated myself to a slightly comical amount of food. But as an example, have a peek at this picture perfect porterhouse steak, purchased this morning, eaten this lunchtime, together with the note explaining my strange early morning absence.

Sirloin steak, rare, onion rings, fat bread and butter,  fresh made Coleman's English mustard.
Shazzam.

Bristol Food Blogs

Since Knife 'n' Spork recently went all technological with a shiny new Twitter account, I thought it might be nice to say something about the nice people we have met (online) through it and share some of the nice Bristol-based Food blogs I have been enjoying as a result.

Blogging about food does seem to be a very popular past time, and in some ways it seems that blogging is an ideal way to share thoughts about food, partly because the internet is such a visual medium (cue lots of lovely pictures of food) and because it is such a democratic medium (anyone with access to a computer can set up a free blog in which to discuss food they have eaten - this is no longer exclusively the province of the newspaper food critic). Best of all, blogs about food present an opportunity to share a passion, and to share knowledge about all things foodie, especially local restaurants, events, markets and so on. We recently benefitted greatly from this local knowledge, as a recent evening out - to superb Bristol restaurant Flinty Red and elegant but out-of-the-way cocktail bar Whitelock & Grace (will be saying more about that trip soon!) - was inspired by local blogs, and then further encouraged by excited comments on Twitter. Strike one for the internet!

So, here is a very short list of some Bristol foodie blogs I have been enjoying so far (and I'm sure this list will rapidly grow, so look out for a follow up post at some point):

Plein Comme un Oeuf - loving the range of recipes (the picture of a cheese scone at the top of this post followed a recent recipe from here, though they weren't as elegant as hers!) and lists.

Bristol Bites - full of ace restuarant reviews and info about food-based deals around Bristol (I wish I could eat out as much!)

Essex Eating - foodie exploits, with recipes and reviews, with very funny accounts of both. Also is co-creator of the Montpelier Basement (surely a new year's resolution)- a new-ish supper club with a rapidly growing reputation - along with Elly of The Pear Cafe, whose posterous also has lovely recipes and some very mouthwatering photos!

There's also What's Hot in Bristol - excellent for local deals and recommendations (like this one of Whitelock and Grace - definitely an influence).

Thanks guys! Looking forward to finding more internet-based foodie peeps....

The Contos

One of our number has another blog, in which he chronicles meals which include a fried egg on them, it's called 'put an egg on it!'. We noticed early on that one of his favourite places to put an egg is a vegetable stir-fry with noodles. When I first saw this I thought he was flat outta his mind, then I tried it and I realised he is a genius. This dish is now a staple in our household, and in honour of him we call it 'The Contos'. We ate it last friday:


(that isn't a super orange yoke, but a dash of chilli/ginger/garlic sauce - it was gooooood)