Room

Room is Jack's story. He's just turned five and lives with his mother in a single room. They are regularly visited by "Old Nick" at night and Jack has to sleep in the wardrobe while he's there. The reader is left to wonder who Nick is and why Jack's mother never takes her child outside, even though - for example - she is desperately in need of dental work. The impression I got was that "Ma", whose real name we never find out, was agoraphobic. It is only later in the book we realise that Jack's mother was abducted at nineteen, that she is now twenty-six and that Jack is her second child by Nick; her first, a daughter, was still born. Despite being related through the eyes of a very young boy and with only two characters in a limited environment, it is a testament to the author that I never once lost interest. The denouement really takes place once Jack and his mother are liberated from the room (and no - I'm not going to give away the details of their escape! You'll have to read the book...) and they both struggle to adapt to the outside world. There is an authorial nod to the intense media interest that follows their appearance but the emphasis is mostly psychological as Jack tries to reconcile himself to "outside", asking his mother "do you ever wish we were still in Room?" while his mother is desperate to put it all behind her and rebuild her life. This is a well thought out, intelligently and sensitively written novel that benefits from the first person narrative of an unusual protagonist whose naivety allows the author to explore difficult topics while maintaining the sympathy of the reader. 

Eat Well? Indeed I Did!

As a food critic, I'm probably not supposed to have favourites. I should be forever impartial, bestowing equal love on every cuisine, my palate an eternal home for taste in all its forms.

So here's my confession: I'm a sucker for a good Chinese! And my favourite one in north west London is the Eat Well in Eastcote. If you don't mind travelling out to zone 5, I think you'll find it well worth the trip.

One of the main reasons I love it there is because, for a set price, they will bring you exactly what you want - again and again. So it's an all-you-can-eat but there's no buffet; no food congealing under the heater while other people stick their noses in it. You get a menu and you choose what you want and they bring it - promptly and with a smile. And if you want it again, you order it again - at no extra cost.

Can you keep a secret?

Secret Daughter by Shilpi Somaya Gowda follows Kavita, a poor woman who lives in a village outside Mumbai in India with her family. With boys far more desirable children than girls, she is distraught after her first baby - a daughter - is taken away from her and - the reader understands implicitly - killed. So when Kavita falls pregnant again, she prays for a boy. But when her second daughter is born, she is determined that she will not suffer the same fate. Kavita travels to Mumbai when Usha (meaning "dawn") is three days old and leaves her in an orphanage, hoping that she will have a better life. Finally, Kavita has a son, who is named Vijay (which means "victory") and her husband dotes on him, which she quietly resents.

Next the reader is introduced to Somer - a Californian paediatrician who married her college sweetheart, Krishnan, an Indian man whose family is wealthy enough that he could study in America. He and Somer have been inseparable since but are devestated when they learn that she is unable to have children. After much soul-searching, they decide to adopt a baby from India.

The parallels between Kavita and Somer are evident even at this early stage in the book: both feel that they are not liing up to society's expectations of them - Kavita by having female children; and Somer by being unable conceive at all. When Somer visits Mumbai, she feels even more isolated and uncomfortable, just as Kavita does when she moves to the city.

Usha - whose name is distorted to Asha (which means "hope" - a lovely word play by the author) also feels like an outsider as she grows up in California, knowing she is adopted and different from her parents.

Determined to follow a journalistic career instead of the medical one her parents want for her, Asha moves to Mumbai for a year to work on a media project and get to know the Indian side of her family better. While there, she starts to appreciate the depth of poverty that exists in the slums of Mumbai and the life her parents saved her from. Although unable to find her birth parents, she learns to be at peace with her background and upbringing.

I thoroughly enjoyed the colourful descriptions of life in Mumbai and Indian culture; never having been, it was fascinating to read about and really inspired an unexpected desire to see it for myself.

The parallels between the women's lives continues although now we see the link between Kavita and Asha instead of Somer as Kavita's mother and Asha's grandfather both die and the reader follows the funeral ceremonies and mourning period of the mother and daughter.

The importance of women to the family unit is emphasised throughout the book - both Jasu, Kavita's husband, and Krishnan are lost without their wives and the longed-for son Vijay, turns out to be a disappointment to both Jasu and Kavita.

I'm not going to give away the ending but it is happily unsensationalist, erring on the side of realism, and all the more moving for that.

Secret Daughter is published by Harper Collins and has sold rights in 22 countries and been a bestseller in USA, Canada, Norway, Israel & Poland. Learn more at http://shilpigowda.com/

Ooh La La Du Du!

Com Tam

La Du Du in north west London is a Vietnamese restaurant clearly proud of its roots. The menu informed me that La Du Du means papaya leaf in Vietnamese. And did you know, proclaims a sign on the wall, that Vietnam is the second largest exporter of coffee in the world? Frankly, I didn't - and I'm not sure I needed to but hey ho!

We chose a range of starters: the cha gio (or spring rolls) were deep fried, stuffed with crispy pork, prawns and lettuce. Quite delicious but a smidgeon too oily; I actually wiped mine on a napkin before eating - and it left a massive smear. The muc don thit - stuffed baby calamari - were less familiar but much more tasty, plump with filling that spilled generously when you cut into it. Finallly, to refresh the palate, our final sharing starter was summer rolls (goi cuon) - rice paper wraps enfolding pork, prawns, vermicelli, cucumber, lettuce, coriander and mint. These were light and genuinely reminiscent of summer, setting a high standard for the main course to follow.
From the wide range of entrees, my companion opted for the com tam - pan fried marinated pork chops served with shredded pork skin with roasted rice powder, steamed crabmeat cake with a fried egg on top. Oh and don't forget the mountain of rice that accompanied the dish. And yes it was as mountainous as it sounds. My companion actually considered asking for a doggy bag! While the pork was lovely and tender, the shredded pork skin was disturbingly gelatinous and floppy and we just didn't like it. The crab cake was a real treat though - meaty and fresh and beautifully seasoned. I had the com da ga gion - twice cooked marinated crispy skin chicken with tomato rice. Although this was a bit more usual shall we say, the portion was equally garguantuan and I only ate about half of it, which was a shame as it was delicious - like the best roast chicken you've ever had at a family dinner on a Friday night.

By this point, we were so stuffed that we couldn't even contemplate dessert but we agreed that La Du Du would be a great first date venue as the food provided enough talking points to keep even the most nervous suitor articulate, while the prices were reasonable and the restaurant itself sophisticated enough without being too formal.

Learn more or make a reservation via www.ladudu.com

Oh to be in England...

Oh to be in England, now that summer's here! And what could be more English than to sit in the sunshine of the gardens of one's country pile and enjoy a light meal.

Failing that, what could be better than sitting in the gardens of someone else's beautifully landscaped former home (now a hotel and restaurant) and do the same!

Goat's cheese salad

The Grim's Dyke Hotel in north west London has a fabulous history: it was the home of Sir William Gilbert (the Gilbert from Gilbert & Sullivan) until his untimely death trying to save someone else from drowning in the lake. Following this, the property won awards for its gardens, was a sanitorium and hospital, the site of secret World War II projects, became a film set for Hammer horror films, and the location for many well known TV shows up to the present. In 1996 it underwent a £3 million restoration and refurbishment under the supervision of English Heritage to create the delightful hotel and restaurant it is today. To sum it up, it's the venue little girls' wedding dreams are made of.

Summer Pudding

As you can see, when I visited, the day was absolutely glorious so my companion and I sat outside and opted for the lighter bar menu, although there is an accomplished restaurant on site as well. We shared the appetising but unattractive Thai fish cakes that were slightly spongy and generic, if I'm honest. Far better was the hunk of warm goat's cheese with tangy red onion relish that had been prepared to order on site. I would recommend the chef sticks with savoury dishes that he makes himself as the skill level is definitely there! This was rich, gooey, sweet and sharp all at once.

Cream Tea

Afterwards, I chose the summer pudding, which was beautifully juicy, stuffed full of strawberries, blueberries, redcurrants, raspberries, cranberries and pomegranate seeds. It was summer pudding, Jim, but not as we know it! I've never had one so rich and generous yet at the same time light and summery. It must rate among my top ten desserts ever.

My companion had the homemade scones with cream and jam. Crunchy on the outside, fluffy on the inside, these scones had clearly benefitted from a great deal of TLC from an expert hand.

If you're at a loose end one afternoon on a lovely warm day and you fancy some reasonably priced posh nosh (the Summer Pudding was only £6.00, and the Goat's Cheese Salad was £9.50) in a beautiful, tranquil environment (which FYI has free wifi!) the Grim's Dyke Hotel is for you. It is truly a place that summer was made for.

For more information on the Grim's Dyke Hotel, visit http://www.grimsdyke.com/

Welcome to the Panopticon

In a style reminiscent of Irvine Welsh's Trainspotting, The Panopticon is the story of fifteen-year-old Anais. Told through her eyes and in her voice, it takes some getting used to - throughout the book, I found the Scottish dialect ("I dinnae ken") slightly distracting.

Which was a shame, because Anais' story is a compelling and disturbing one. Having spent her life moving between care homes and foster parents, it is indicative of the unconventional nature of her upbringing that her favourite foster parent to date was Teresa, a prostitute.

When Teresa dies, and Anais is accused of putting a policewoman in a coma, she finds herself in the last chance saloon where troubled young people are sent: the panopticon. Conceived by English philosopher Jeremy Bentham in the late eighteenth century, a panopticon is described as "a circular prison with cells so constructed that the prisoners can be observed at all times" (see image below).

Jenni Fagan

The place itself, though, didn't seem to live up to its name. The teenage inmates - including a bestialist, a self-harmer and a drug addict - are free to come and go as they please - regularly hitting the town in the evenings -  and there are hidden areas, like the roof, where they go when they want to be sure they aren't being watched. Drugs are rife - the night nurse often comments that Anais' pupils look dilated - but no one in authority seems to do anything about it, and prostitution is seen simply as an easy means of supplementing pocket money - for the male residents as well as the female ones. In a true panopticon, this would surely be impossible. Or is the book a social commentary on the inadequacy and/or impotence of the care system in the UK? I can't tell.

Our "heroine" (double-entendre intended) seems permanently high or low on something, which increases her paranoia and she becomes increasingly convinced that she's being watched all the time, even when she's not within the care home. Perhaps the title refers to a mental panopticon as opposed to the physical one? Clearly, the reference was a little too oblique for me.

Panopticon design

After one of her friends is abducted by a stranger after getting into his car to earn money and another kill herself out of guilt, Anais really begins to unravel and it is this mental anguish rather than the gang rape she experiences that is her undoing. When she attacks a stranger, she gives the police exactly what they need to put her away for good.

By turns brutally graphic, at other times poetically insightful, Anais' story always feels tragic. She comes across as a good person let down by the system and one can't help but wonder how many children are out there in the same situation. I can't describe the novel as anything other than depressing and it was hard going plus I still don't really know what was meant by the panopticon. Nonetheless, it feels like an important book to read for anyone who wants to understand despair and it left me grateful that, like Bob Geldof said "Tonight, thank god, it's them instead of you".

Plaintain two ways with mojito

Viva la Revolucion!

When you think of Cuba, you think of 1950's American cars, beautiful sandy beaches, honeymoons and salsa dancing. Food doesn't really come into it. What is Cuban cuisine? Anyone?

At Cubana - which is right next to Waterloo train station in London - I had the chance to find out. Doubling up as a music venue, this cosy restaurant required other guests to stand up so that we could get to our table. As the syncopated rhythms played in this colourful environment, troubles seemed to melt away as we perused the menu.

Pincho de gamas y mango

From some typically Caribbean fare such as fried plaintain and rice and peas, one sensed that the chefs had, like us, struggled to identify what Cuban food actually is, as we also choose chicken breast in tempura batter.

Perhaps this is because, as I later learned from a friend, the economic situation of Cuba means that there is inconsistent produce availability: one week the shops and restaurants serve chicken; the next week, they have only pork. As a result, it's difficult to nail down a typical Cuban meal. Even the tourist venues are not immune. That is slowly changing as international relations improve but for now, it remains an issue.

Croquetas de boniato y chorizo

In Cubana, however, the politics seemed a world away. Sipping from our happy hour jug of mojito, we munched on plaintain two ways: crispy chips and sweetly caramelised fried plaintain drizzled with lime to give it a bit of bite. To follow, we sampled the barbecued skewer of pincho de gambas y mango: grilled prawn kebabs with green peppers and mango marinated in a sweet sauce of guava, ginger, honey and lime.

My favourite dish, however, was the croquetas de boniato y chorizo con salsa: fried sweet potato croquettes mixed with chorizo. These are simply unmissable and it was worth going just for them as far as I'm concerned!

Cubana

As the evening wore on, the bar area started to get busier and eventually, the tables are cleared to make way for the expert salsa dancing we amateurishly imitated. The ambience was friendly, though, and we enjoyed every moment.

For a fun evening of food, drink and dance under one roof - or even if the weather permits, in the outside area - this is a great place to try. I have noticed that Cubana frequently hosts events such as a charity fundraiser for Children of the Andes as well as a salsa carnival; it's a lively, colourful and friendly place so come on down and bring your friends!

Find out more at http://www.cubana.co.uk/

In a Perfect World...

Imagine a world where you can choose your child's attributes before he or she is born. In the fluid, fast-paced and tense Perfect People by Peter James, you no longer have to imagine...

I have commented on previous reviews that there are books I enjoy as stand-alone entities and there are books I enjoy because they make me ponder the bigger questions in life. Happily, Peter James combines the two effortlessly in this thought-provoking and challenging novel that at times, made me proud and at times, ashamed to be human.

John and Naomi only wanted to have a baby free of the genetic abnormality that caused the suffering and early death of their beloved son, Halley. When they are also offered the chance to dictate other features such as appearance, physicality and intelligence to give their their longed-for son the best possible future, they hesitantly accept.

But they end up with more than they bargained for when Naomi gives birth to their son Luke... and his twin sister Phoebe. With exceptional intelligence and capacity for knowledge, but limited emotional and social skills, caring for the twins threatens to push the couple to their limits.

Peter James

Furious and desperate for answers, they are devestated when Dr Dettore, the maverick genius who pioneered this field of science, is violently murdered.

Struggling to deal with their children, Naomi and John also have to keep a look out for the religious extremists who claim Dr Dettore's murder and are intent on destroying all evidence of his "devil's work" - including the families he created...

Key Questions

If you could eliminate disease, would you?
Similar to the question "if you could go back in time and kill Hitler, would you?", Peter James raises some relevant questions about genetic engineering that are as old as the field-formerly-known-as-eugenics itself; namely, is it ever acceptable, and if so, what are the limits of acceptability? Beyond that, which isn't really explored in the book, the question is: how on earth would one legislate for this? At some point, someone will have to decide...

Naomi and John, who enter into the process in order to eliminate their recessive disease-carrying genes from their offspring, initially baulk at choosing intelligence, eye colour etc (although have no reservations about gender selection). What would your limits be?

Respect for your elders
Luke and Phoebe - with their vastly superior intellect - run rings around their parents and exhibit disdain for them throughout. In a sense, I felt this was an analogy for the parent-child relationship in the twenty-first century. With the explosion of technology, the internet, social media etc, the tools and skills young people need today are very different from those of their parents and even further removed from their grandparents. As a result, many people bemoan the lack of respect for older generations shown by the young. Is this just nostalgia, imagining that they used to show respect for their elders, or is it real? And, like Luke and Phoebe, where does it end?

The nature of love
In ancient Greece, there were four different words for love, each describing a different facet. In their impassive, sometimes condescending way, Phoebe and Luke do seem to love their parents. Naomi, in a more demonstrative, occasionally desperate way, loves her children, while John openly admits he would choose Naomi over the children if necessary. Despite the denouement of the story (which I won't spoil here!) the family come together in the end but I must admit it feels rather passionless to the end and I couldn't work out to what extent this was protagonist utilitarianism (storge to use the ancient Greek equivalent) or real unconditional (agape) love by all parties... maybe I'm just a cynic!

Does science have all the answers?
Another modern position is to assume that science has all the answers, whether we know and understand them yet or not. But as Peter James expertly illustrates in this novel, science can provide the what and the how but cannot (will never?) offer the why (Mallory's retort to the question of why he wanted to climb Everest - "because it's there" - is grossly inadequate and should be to all rational people.)

Ultimately, Perfect People showed me that man has boundless capacity for destruction, manipulation and self-interest. But more than that, as shown in the final pages, we have even greater capacity for love.

Learn more about Peter James at www.peterjames.com/ and his publisher MacMillan (www.macmillan.com). I read Perfect People on my Kobo (www.kobo.com).

From a Champion to a Legend

On 9th August 2012, Usain Bolt became a legend: the first man ever to win gold in both the 100m and 200m sprint events at consecutive Olympic games (2008 in Beijing and now 2012 in London).

And I was there. Although it's not food or book related, I couldn't help but think you'd want to share the experience with me so below are my photos of the day. I hope you enjoy!

The beautifullylandscaped and surprisingly tranquil Olympic Park, featuring the Royal Barge

The crazy fans! From Germany, the Netherlands, Great Britain, Japan, Jamaica and Pakistan

(Clockwise from top left) The Olympic Flame, the Orbit, the starting blocks used in the mens' 200m final and the Olympic mascot pulling a familiar pose

View from my seat in the Olympic Stadium

Some highlights of the day, including the schedule, medal ceremonies and new world record for 800m as shown

A Champion becomes a Legend in the 200m mens' final

Oh and I met Chris Hoy - who some say is the greatest British Olympian ever - and he signed my ticket, as did Alistair Brownlee, who won the triathlon at London 2012

Going, Going, Gone!

I read a lot (I may have mentioned this before!) and I've developed a bit of a sixth sense for plot techniques. It's not often that I am surprised by a denouement.

I have also read my fair share of books that, frankly, don't deserve the hype: Fifty Shades of Grey, anyone?

But every now and then that rare book comes along that is worthy of the praise heaped upon it and keeps me guessing to the very end.

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn is one such book.

Nick Dunne and his wife Amy relocate from bustling New York City to small town Missouri when both Nick's aging parents need care. Oh, and because Amy and Nick have run out of money. Although Amy is a trust fund baby, her own parents' financial problems leave the couple unable to sustain their lifestyle - but caring for your in-laws sounds so much better doesn't it?

On their fifth wedding anniversary, Nick arrives home to find Amy gone and the house in disarray. When the police arrive, their investigation reveals that a large amount of blood has been cleaned up in the kitchen and suspicion naturally falls on Nick.

Gillian Flynn

Amid growing national media interest, his scorned young mistress appears casting further doubt on his protestations of innocence. Add further evidence such as massive credit card debt and a recently embellished life insurance policy for Amy, and Nick's case looks hopeless.

Told through Nick's eyes and Amy's diary, this book is packed full of twists and turns for our two protagonists. Is Amy dead? If so, who killed her? If not, where is she? And - as Nick declares his undying love, cynically believing this will bring Amy back - can she return?

In this compulsive, sociopathic game of extreme power play, with life as the ultimate prize, does anyone truly win?

Although it is difficult to warm to any of the characters, who all come across as fairly self-absorbed narcissists, I must confess that I absolutely fell in love with the author, whose warped mind gave me so much pleasure that now, knowing what I do, I have to re-read the book with enlightened eyes to fully appreciate the wit, subtlety and intelligence that went into writing it. Put simply, this is the book that J K Rowling must be desperately hoping she is capable of as her Harry Potter follow-up.

It's no surprise to me that the novel is now to be made into a Hollywood blockbuster (announced on 20 July 2012) by Reese Witherspoon and her production company. I look forward to Flynn's next offering.

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn is available online, published by Weidenfeld & Nicolson, part of Orion Books.

Just like Papa used to make...

Gordon Ramsay frequently visits troubled restaurants and they seem to have one thing in common. No, I'm not talking about a dysfunctional family unit with no gastronomic experience running the place. I'm talking about a ridiculously extensive menu.
You know the saying: jack of all trades, master of none. Gordon obviously agrees, as the first thing he does is to cut down the menu, find their USP and focus on that.

Paccheri Porcini e Speck

But I think I've found the exception that proves the rule. Pizzeria Papagone in Finsbury Park, north east London, has one of the longest list of offerings I've ever seen. As well as the traditional Spaghetti Carbonara and Spaghetti Bolognese, there are more unusual dishes available, such as Pizza Porcini (with bufalo mozzarella, speck, taleggio and porcini mushrooms). Yes, yes, it's not totally outlandish but I've never seen speck and taleggio together on a pizza before as well as a venison ragu with truffle oil (see below).

Tagliatelle Cervo e Porcini

These creative combinations set a nice tone and the place was certainly buzzing. Although it was mid-week, the restaurant was full and by the time we left, people were waiting for a table. It was also great to see the chefs beavering away in the open kitchen - always reassuring and fascinating to see them at work.

Forgoing a starter, we plumped for Paccheri Porcini e Speck (super large pasta tubes - which were obviously fresh - with a sauce of porcini mushrooms, speck - a traditionally cured Italian ham - shallots and cream). While the sauce was rich and sticky, there was so much food that by the end it felt a little cloying and we couldn't finish it. Our second dish was Tagliatelle Cervo e Porcini, which was pasta in a marinated venison ragu drizzled with truffle oil. This was more tomato-y and felt earthy and healthy, although the portion size was equally ginormous and we ended up taking away doggy bags.

Did this mean we had no room for the celebrated gelato (not ice cream! they are careful to pronounce) - absolutely not! With 19 flavours to choose from, it was a bit overwhelming but we got there in the end, opting for the massive Coppa Cioccomenta - 2 scoops of mint choc chip with 1 scoop of chocolate, covered with chocolate and peppermint syrup and cream and laced with chopped up After Eight mints - minty heaven!

Coppa Cioccomenta

And of course you can't go to a pizzeria without sampling the tiramisu. Unsurprisingly, this was also huge but with a bitter-sweet balance of coffee and cream that we delighted in.

My only criticism is one that I also suspect Gordon Ramsay would also take issue with: the portion sizes. The chefs are certainly serious about living up to their tagline "it'sa nice'a place to stuffa your face".

Although the food was delicious, there was so much of it that your heart sank a little when the servers arrived (with impeccable speed) with your plate. All the basics of flavour, seasoning and creativity are there so I felt that, with a little refining, this place could be out of this world.

But as it stands, with an extensive and reasonably priced menu, there will be something for everyone to enjoy in this cheerful, relaxed pizzeria. If you haven't eaten all day and you're looking for prompt, no-nonsense, delicious Italian food like Papa used to make, this is the pizzeria for you.

Pizzeria Papagone http://www.pizzeriapappagone.co.uk/

Lest We Forget...

There are books I like because the text itself is innately fascinating, perhaps because of the writing style, the fast-moving denouement, the historical accuracy or its unnerving realism.

Then there are books I enjoy because they force me to address uncomfortable issues and ask myself questions I would prefer to avoid, but which are key to my own humanity.

A Little Piece of Mother falls into the latter category.

Despite the twee name, there is a challenging premise behind the cutesy-pie exterior: imagine you were liberated from Auschwitz and emigrated to London. You settle with a fellow survivor and have a family. A few years later, a German family move in next door...

The Kalinskis are Polish Jews who emigrated to London in the aftermath World War Two. Psychologically unable to deal with the horrors she experienced in Auschwitz, Martina's mother will not allow any discussion on the topic.

Barbara Towell

But teenager Martina, her only child, longs to know more and to understand her own history.

When the Wilners, a German family, move in next door, Martina's wish is granted in the worst possible way as her mother's mental health - always fragile - drastically deteriorates and she accuses Mr Wilner of being an Obersturmfuehrer, poisons his dog and sets fire to his shed.

Cleverly juxtaposing the agony of unimaginable horror revisited with the banal minutiae of Martina and her friends' teenage angst ("Why hasn't he called yet? wails Krysia"), I was by turn totally out of my comfort zone and then thrust back into the wilderness of my own teenage years.

I ultimately felt that this novel did not satisfactorily deal with holocaust survival, depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, anti-Semitism and the other key issues touched on in the book, which was a bit of a disappointment.

But, in all fairness, who has managed to resolve these issues? No one I know.

Throughout the book, I was constantly asking myself: what would I do? To which there is, of course, no answer. Thankfully, I have not been in that situation. And hopefully, I never will be.  But in the spirit of the Ode of Remembrance, I commend Towell for attempting such a difficult subject "lest we forget".

Published by Author House (@authorhouse), A Little Piece of Mother is now available on Amazon for the first time.

A-Mazar-Ing Afghan

Banjan Borani

Let's be fair: Afghan food isn't exactly prolific in the UK. It tends to get lumped in together with Turkish, Lebanese, Egyptian etc. And when you ask people about Afghan food, the predominant view is that it consists of kebabs, preferably after a night in the pub. Chortle, chortle.

And so it was, armed with little knowledge but an open mind, that I went to Mazar in Harrow. Named after a village in Badakhshan Province in north-eastern Afghanistan., the venue had received an average 10/10 rating by AllinLondon so I was surprised by the unprepossessing exterior and dated decor and feared that it was exactly as I'd feared: a kebab shop. But if there was ever a lesson in not judging a book (or restaurant) by its cover, this was it.

Borani Sabzi

With no experience of Mazari cuisine, my companions and I opted for a range of dishes. Despite ordering starters and mains, the food all appeared at the same time which was a little overwhelming. Our favourite was the Borani Sabzi, delicately spiced and practically liquidised steamed spinach. I know, I know - sounds like a schoolboy's worst ever school dinner, and looked even worse - but trust me, it was gorgeous. A close second was Banjan Borani - aubergine in fresh tomato sauce, green pepper and garlic. Accompanied by warm, doughy naan bread to soak up the juices, we were in heaven.

While we sipped on Afghani green tea, the rest of the food was already arriving, a veritable mountain of goodies. The authentic Qabeli Palow featured lamb and what we surmised is the Afghan equivalent of Jamaican rice and peas: plain white rice mixed in with juicy sultanas and sweet grated carrot.

Qabeli Palow

Despite being told we'd have to wait for the fish special, it arrived in no time: beautifully grilled salmon steaks - crisp on the outside, moist on the inside - with a flavour I couldn't identify, and our server, despite being incredibly welcoming and hospitable, had only limited English and was unable to clarify the spicing for me. A shame, as I'd love to have tried it at home, although I suspect it was cooked in a tandoor-type oven; it had that kind of quality.

So let me mention the service here: it was warm but unintrusive, our tea glasses were refilled regularly, the manager was at pains to make sure we understood that everything was cooked fresh and on site. All the staff seemed genuinely pleased that we were there.

Even Ashak, the ravioli-style pasta filled with leek and herbs - arguably the prettiest dish we were served - was tasty, although surely more Italian than Afghan? Not that I'm any kind of expert.
 

Ashak

I also have to comment on the unbelievable value for money. The most expensive thing we ordered was the salmon at £8.95 and there were three massive steaks on the plate. You can see from the photos just how much food was served for each dish. Of course, it's not just about the quantity, but the quality as well. Although presentation was not necessarily at the forefront of the chef's mind, taste absolutely was. We fell in love with Mazari cuisine and hospitality and can't wait to try it again. 


For more information at AllinLondon go to http://www.allinlondon.co.uk/restaurants/restaurant-11249.php

What's in an egg?

I love food. I especially love food that other people have prepared for me. Ergo, I eat out. A lot. And I write about it. But I don't want you to think that it's all about dining out. Oh no. Sometimes it's about seeing what's in the fridge and using it up before it expires. (Oh come on - we've all been there!)
The humble egg can be used to create so many dishes: think of flaky pastries, airy souffles and crunchy meringues. From the ostrich to the duck to the quail, there's an egg for everyone. And I wanted to take it back to basics. Sometimes you just feel like scrambled egg without smoked salmon, or poached egg without hollandaise...

Now imagine an omelette. The best omelette you could possibly conceive. Oh look - there it is!

And here's how to do it:

Whisk two eggs. Pour slowly into a pre-heated frying pan, ensuring even distribution on the bottom of the pan. Cook on a low light. Depending on your taste, add breaded ham, sliced tomatoes, sundried tomatoes, green olives, cheese, salt, pepper and Italian herbs. When the egg is cooked through, fold over and serve.

Easy! And it only takes ten minutes! (I can almost hear Homer Simpson complaining "Ten minutes? But I want it now!).

Haute cuisine it's not. It's not even pub grub. But it's quick and easy home cooking of the highest order. I dare you not to like it!

My other favourite use for egg: egg soup (think Chinese restaurant) - so easy to make at home and so yummy!

Using chicken stock to make a soup (ideally fresh but frankly any will do), add finely chopped spring onions  and heat over a low light. Whisk an egg. Just before the soup boils, slowly pour in the egg, stopping frequently, while stirring the soup so the egg cooks on impact, and makes a beautiful swirly pattern and tastes fluffy and delicious. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Lots of people add noodles, chicken, prawns, beef, onions, sweetcorn and all kinds of things. The secret is in the pouring of the egg - you can't be too heavy handed and dump it all in as a big blob (that would be an unattractive poached egg) and you must make sure to stir the soup so you can thing strands of egg.

This is also an incredibly easy, quick dish to make but it looks and tastes great!

Olympic Torch Relay - A Photographic Review

Prior to the start of the London 2012 Olympics, the Olympic Torch came to Harrow today. I know this is slightly off topic but I thought you may be interested to see... enjoy!

Although the torch wasn't due until 10am, the crowds started to gather from 8am in the July sunshine. See the guy in the top right of the photo - what a great view he's going to have!

By 9am, the town centre was packed full of excited people!

Even Katie the statue looked like she was enjoying herself! Maybe she likes Morris Dancers...

Patriotism was high and people were waving flags long before the torch arrived.

 Every time a policeman, bus or practically anyone passed by, a loud cheer went up and flag were waved.

Suddenly the procession started with Union Jack flag bearers running down the high street, cheered on by the crowds.

The Queen was given an equally warm welcome with her message of peace for all. Well done your majesty!

The crowd were briefly distracted by a child carrrying the torch, but soon realised it was a home-made one. Phew! Thought we'd missed it!

We wouldn't be fooled twice!

The tension and anticipation all got a bit much for some people!

And suddenly... there it was!

And then it was gone... off up the hill and on to Brent!

But did the celebration stop... No! The people of Harrow were entertained by the local radio presenters playing funky music and the crowds were very slow to disperse... Thank you Harrow! A great time was had by all!