The Local

The Local. Everybody should have one. A place that becomes a home from home.The automatic default choice when you fancy a drink. The place where you go when someone suggests going to "the pub". Somewhere that makes you feel instantly comfortable and relaxed when you walk through the door. The size of any community is defined by the presence of certain institutions; churches, cathedrals, shops and schools but a community is not a community without a pub.

Of course there's no reason to limit yourself to one local. In fact it could be said to be rather short-sighted. Several locals can serve multiple purposes and that's without mentioning the sub-category of regulars. More on that to follow.

Over the years I have had many locals. They started as being the places that had "enlightened" policies on checking for proof of age then moved on to ones that were less likely to be rammed on a Friday night. After that I went through a phase of seeking "atmosphere" (usually meaning smoky, dingy and with interesting facial hair on men and women alike) before realising my true niche; good beer ideally supplemented by good food.

At the moment I have two places I would call locals. The first is best described as a "boozer". It's principle function for those that frequent it seems to be the consumption of drinks. I discovered it mainly because it is at the end of my road and far enough away from the centre of town that it avoids tourist and student traffic. It has a pleasing simplicity about it. No elaborate polished glass furniture, pretentious bar snacks, thumping music or cocktail menu that relies more on hope than skill. Better still, it's dog friendly and child unfriendly. There's all you would expect for entertainment; a pool table, darts, dominoes and a big screen for the odd sporting function. The menu features excellent pub grub. Special note should go to the excellent Pieminster pies. This place is usually my default choice when I feel like a quiet pint on my own with a bit of anonymity or if I feel like more than one and don't have a lift.

My other local is a proper village pub (even if I don't live in the village). It was found when lost in the countryside and the inside turned out to be as picturesque as the ancient stone and thatched roof suggested. The beautiful surroundings are matched only by the warm welcome and community atmosphere. Oh and did I mention the picturesque garden with the friendly rabbits, docile border collie and vast amounts of parking just to finish it off. Unsurprisingly I have been making regular trips since I moved into the area and have as such got to know the staff and the owners... to the point my they recognise my voice on the phone. The food served is delicious home-cooking with plentiful portions. All in all it's hard to find an excuse not to go for a swift half fairly regularly. It's one of the few places I will make the effort to attend any of the functions organised.

So what of the other category; regulars? These are usually places I know of but don't visit frequently or make a particular effort to go to. Usually they are visited as a result of proximity. Naturally there are a couple of places in the centre of town visited when a pre-, mid- or post-shopping pit stop is required. They will have good beer and an interesting feature or two. I also have a couple of places along the river for refreshment if out for a stroll.

Pubs on the regular list are still familiar surroundings but less of a second home. At best there will be a spark of vague recognition in the eyes of the staff rather than recognising my voice. The huge advantage of having regular haunts is the comfort of knowing exactly what you're getting. The guarantee of a decent pint and a good sandwich when lunch is needed; a crackling log fire on a winter's evening or a sunny garden on a summer afternoon.

There is of course one final category; the potentials. Pubs that look worth investigating to find out if they are worthy of further visits. Obviously it would be silly not to try them in case you deprive yourself of an absolute gem. And being a scientist I would also have to recommend trying each one multiple times to ensure a high average and therefore reliable results! Naturally I will endeavour to try a decent spectrum and write them up here.

On that note, I'm off for a pint!

TFB

Mulled Wine

It's the festive season: the season to be jolly and usually "jolly". Gallons of festive cheer are consumed by revellers. One particularly seasonal tipple is mulled wine. This can be a bit of a double-edged sword. Good mulled wine is excellent; bad stuff is truly horrific. Therefore, being the thoughtful, sharing type I thought I would give you my recipe for mulled wine so you can guarantee to enjoy yourself and impress your guests over Christmas.

Step one: throw away those ghastly pre-made sachets. All they do is make the wine taste like old feet.

The major ingredient is of course red wine. Since it's going to have a lot added to it, leave the Petrus in the cellar and go for something a little less expensive. A full-bodied North Italian red is my usual bottle of choice although whatever is on special offer is usually a good rule of thumb.

Next add some dark rum (I like Lamb's Old Navy but OVD is a good substitute). For a guide to quantity, add enough rum that you think, "my that's a lot of rum" and then a bit more for luck. The aim is to get the "warming" effect of the spirit along with the physical warmth of the drink.

Along with the rum, add some caster sugar (about 150g) and a cinnamon stick. Pour in about 250ml of good orange juice - the smooth stuff and then start preparing the fruit. I usually use an orange and a lemon. Massage both until they are soft and pliable so they are ready to release their juice (10 seconds in the microwave will have a similar effect but be less soothing). Slice the lemon about a third of the way through in several places and put in the mixture (ideally contained in a heavy-based saucepan). Next stud the orange all over with whole cloves. It's a lot of effort and quite fiddly but the visual effect is stunning and it adds a real richness to the flavour.

In an ideal world I would heat this up until just warm then allow it to sit for a couple of hours before warming it again and serving however it can be warmed and served immediately. Enjoy with mince pies and (if you must) carols.

Cheers

TFB

P.s. Warning: if you're even in the same room as the pot don't even look at a car never mind think about driving!

Restaurant Review: The Coach and Horses - Chiselhampton

Normally going out to eat somewhere new is cause for celebration. Even if the meal out isn't to celebrate anything in particular, the excitement of trying somewhere new is enough to create a bit of a party atmosphere. However, despite wanting to eat there for a while, my first visit to the Coach and Horses, in the Oxfordshire village of Chiselhampton was begun with a heavy heart. This is because it marked my last day in a job which I had greatly enjoyed and also enforced that I would no longer be working with people who's company (*ahem* I mean professional support and guidance) I had had the privilege of for the last year. Anyway, I know they're reading this so I will stop before their heads get any bigger.

The Coach and Horses is a coaching inn on the road between Oxford and the market town of Thame. From the road it looks like motley collection of old stone buildings and it is easy to imagine masked highwaymen tying up their horses here before slaking their thirst and assessing their booty. Inside; low ceilings, crackling log fires and a maze-like quality reinforce this. Despite my conjuring up images of Dick Turpin, the pub is in-fact a charming family-run establishment. The chef-proprietor took over the business from his parents and his daughters provided the charming (and remarkably patient) front of house service.

Initial plus points were won at the bar where seasonal beers from Hook Norton Brewery were on tap. Once a suitable quantity of the excellent 12 days had been supped we were shown through to our table. Unusually, the set Christmas menu looked so good that I didn't even bother looking at the main menu. The turkey and trimmings was complemented by an array of other seasonal dishes including Scottish salmon (good ingredient sourcing there) and pheasant. There was a vegetarian option but you didn't seriously expect me to look at it did you?

Before I get ahead of myself, let me recommend the Coach and Horses chicken liver pate. It was beautifully rich and thick and served with plenty of toast. Now on to the wonderful pheasant. It was served wrapped in bacon which kept it lovely and moist and accompanied by some lovely stuffing and a fantastic mushroom sauce. Seasonal veggies were served separately allowing picky eaters like me to express their naturally descerning tastes and only take what they want. A couple of roasties finished everything off nicely.

Dessert was an interesting course. Anyone who has read my previous posts will know that I usually favour a cheese board to finish off a meal. However, the quality of the previous two courses was such that I decided to take a bit of a punt and go for one of the desserts that required a bit more cooking. Eventually I opted for the profiteroles (although the choice was a hard one). They arrived looking delicious. One particularly nice touch was the sauce being served on the side ensuring that they were neither drowned nor over-sauced. My decision to go for something other than cheese was well made. The profiteroles has a lovely, delicate consistency with a beautiful flavour and just enough cream to complement the lashings of chocolate sauce.

As I mentioned previously, the service was excellent. Everybody coped with and tolerated a mass of mild rowdy types extremely well. The courses also arrived at roughly the same time for everyone avoiding awkward pauses as we were waiting for everyone to get served.

In conclusion; I will be going back there as soon as I can find an excuse. Delicious food, excellent beer, friendly service and a lovely environment all worked together to create a wonderful meal. Enough said.

TFB

Guest Post: The Dinner Party

Tensions were mounting and emotions were running high. The time had finally come... for the Dinner Party.

The Venue: My parents house - providing access to a decently sized kitchen

The Guests: The hosts - my parents, the chefs - myself and TFB - and the esteemed visitors; my father's former pupil master (tutor in law speak) and his new wife (no he's not a serial philanderer, but a delightful gentleman getting on in years who's been lucky enough to meet a lovely new lady after being bereaved).

The Menu: Having been mulled over for many months and being reincarnated multiple times we had eventually decided upon... Cured salmon served on toast with soft cheese and chives for starters, a recipe adapted from James Martin's recent Food Map of Britain programme. Main was to be chicken in a whisky mushroom sauce with dauphinoise potatoes and griddled courgettes from TFB's favourite Whisky Kitchen cookbook. Finally dessert was my own creation of a white chocolate and lemon cheesecake. If you're diabetic look away now but the ingredients are white chocolate, juice of two lemons, condensed milk, whipped double cream and cream cheese (although I didn't mention that to my cheese phobic father). A final flourish was provided by TFB's homemade and truly luxurious tablet, for those who are uninitiated tablet is not a pill but rather a crunchy version of fudge, made primarily from sugar and condensed milk. Yum!

The concept had arisen as TFB and I are keen entertainers and Mum and Dad were long overdue in reciprocating an invitation. I was desperate for TFB to meet the esteemed visitor, whom I knew to be an amusing companion and as such a convenient date was arranged for everyone to converge for Sunday lunch. What followed amounted to a turf war. My mother is a little proprietorial when it comes to her kitchen and the rights to cook almost had to be physically wrestled from her. After she had finally conceded we were nagged for weeks about finalising a menu and providing her with a list of ingredients. Ultimately she contented herself with bustling about while we were prepping. A sample of conversation went along the lines of:

Mum "It's not a problem if I just prepare dinner for tomorrow in a corner is it?"

Me "Well actually we're needing all the space for our prep and we'll fall over each other if you do"

Mum, as she sets herself up anyway "I won't take up much space"

It was a toss up who was most likely to come to harm - her, as my patience wore out, or us as we tripped over her and went flying. 

Needless to say no injuries did occur and the end result was nearly flawless. I was thoroughly won over by the salmon, despite my concealed skepticism beforehand. I have since made TFB do it again. Main was very well received. If I was being super picky the chicken had maybe had a minute or two too long in the pan but was still acceptably tender and succulent and the accompanying sauce was a triumph. The plating was magnificent with individual ramekins holding the dauphinoise. Compliments abounded as we all enjoyed the dish. Finally my dessert was sweet and delicious. Prepared in individual pudding rings it stood in the middle of the plates, garnished with raspberries and grated dark chocolate and was yummy! The tablet at the end was the crowning glory and not only did a nameless guess admit to losing count after 13 pieces but was seen leaving with a doggy bag! 

Lunch extended throughout the afternoon with the guests not leaving until gone 5pm. Everybody had seemingly had a wonderful time and TFB and I were really rather pleased with ourselves. It has to be said that he did the bulk of the work but I hope I proved useful and I think in the kitchen we make quite a good team. And the best bit of all was that as it wasn't our house we didn't even have to do the washing up! That's why Mum has a dishwasher - he's called Dad! 

Happy Cooking

The Girlfriend. 

Patisserie Valerie

I have written before about the pleasure that is breakfast on a weekend. A self-indulgent feast to counteract the daily drudgery of cereal. A few weeks ago, we decided that we would have breakfast at the central Oxford branch of Patisserie Valerie. Although neither of us are huge fans of national chains, the cakes in the window were rather seductive. Sadly appearances can be deceptive.

Things started with moderate promise. As well as cakes, the menu had a fry up on it. Admittedly it was a fry-up costing eight quid; a bit steep if you ask me. However, it showed that there were at least decent ingredients on the premises; specifically bacon and bread. You may see where this is going. A bacon sandwich seemed like a distinct possibility.  All good so far. Unfortunately things didn't turn out to be that simple. I started my request with a suitably sheepish, "I know it's not strictly speaking on the menu but..." My request for a bacon sandwich was met with a look of such confused blankness that I began to think I had asked for a pollonium-cooked paving slab in some obscure conversational Zwahili dialect. Eventually I was told that a bacon sandwich was impossible in a tone that questioned why anyone would want such a thing ever! This didn't endear the place much. How hard can it be? Bacon, bread, a bit of butter and maybe some brown sauce. It doesn't take a Michelin star. It doesn't even really take opposable thumbs. Given the cooks in the building can prepare a fry up, a bacon sandwich shouldn't be beyond their ability.To add insult to injury I was then helpfully informed that they have bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches.

Oh wait, so they can place some bacon between bread. They just need superfluous pollution too. Or maybe it's hot ingredients that prove a problem. A sharp kick on the shin from my other-half prevented me asking for a B.L.T. minus the L. and the T.

Grumblingly I settled for my pastry staple, a pain aux chocolate. All I can say is that I wish I hadn't bothered. Sometimes hunger can be the preferable alternative. We were given virtually no option about having our pastries heated. They were being given their blast in the microwave whether we liked it or not. Sadly this did little to conceal the fact that they tasted like they had been sitting on a shelf for at least a day and had then been dropped in cement. If you think all of this is sour grapes about my beloved bacon sandwich then I can confirm that my girlfriend found her pastry almost inedible too.

So to recap, my preferred choice wasn't available and the backup option was distinctly unpalatable. A saving grace would be that it was cheap but there was no such luck there either. Two hot drinks and a couple of pastries cost nearly fifteen quid. A bit steep in anybody's books especially given the poor service and the disappointing food.

I would like to report some mitigating features to recommend this place but unfortunately I can't. We didn't even get the the bill quickly thus delaying our escape to pastures more fun.

My honest advice; if you're walking past a Patisserie Valerie and fancy a snack, keep walking. You might be lucky and find a bit of rubble or some old cigarette butts to nibble on.

TFB