Classic Combination: Spaghetti alla Carbonara

It's already been documented that I'm extremely sceptical of fusion food: it seems confused, as if the person behind it is trying to re-invent the wheel, which may well be down to insecurity and an attempt to satisfy that most destructive element of the Human condition, ego. I remember a time when I was forced to endure a lunch at a "traditional British pub" in Somerset which boasted an 'eclectic' menu. This is usually code for 'desperately attempting to stand out because I have no idea what I am doing here'. The food was like a United Nations of cuisine - plenty of hot air but little action - and included among other things a 'Thai inspired Cottage Pie', 'Chinese Spring Rolls with Caesar Dressing' and the now commonplace (but lost on me) 'Tempura Battered Fish and Chips'. Where is the love in that? Where are the stories, the history behind the food? Over the last few years there have been numerous movements hung around food. Some have been inspired, such as Jamie Oliver's School Meals, and have really hit a nerve with people outside foodie circles. I've therefore decided to work on a one man campaign for simple food done properly that will involve short(ish,) regular(ish) postings of classic dishes, that are stupidly hard to find cooked correctly.

Today, the absolutely fantastic Spaghetti alla Carbonara, and read my lips: you do not use cream, and you do not use Parmesan. No cream. Do not use cream.

Spaghetti alla Carbonra
Serves 2

Ingredients:
2 slices Pancetta, cut into lardons
1/2 clove Garlic, crushed
150g Pecorino, finely grated
A handful of parsley, finely chopped
1 egg, beaten
2 large handfuls of Spaghetti

Method:
1. Get a large pot of salted water up to a rolling boil. Add spaghetti.
2. In a heated pan, add some olive oil, followed by the pancetta. Brown.
3. Now add your garlic, sautee quickly, do not let burn. Remove from the heat.
4. Once the spaghetti is cooked, add to the pan with the pancetta and garlic. Also add a small ladel of the cooking liquid.
5. Toss and add the pecorino, parsley, egg. Toss until pasta is incorporated. The heat from the pasta will 'cook' the egg.
6. Serve immediately with more pecorino and a giant glass of white wine.

2 Amys Neapolitan Pizzeria

Location: 3715 Macomb St NW, Washington, DC

I know that I appear to be doing more eating out than cooking out, and I am. Yesterday I spent much of the day perched on the edge of the sofa, my fingertips massaging my temples and rocking back and forth. If I was to be objectified I would become one of those little desk pendulums, banging back and forth but going no-where. Every time I tried to think of something other than the precariousness of my overdraft limit, or asking Mr Google "if my bank collapses does that mean my loan disappears into the cosmos?" I developed a cold sweat. As sure as eggs are eggs, yesterday was a bad day.

Now what would've been sensible would be to write a plan of action. But seeing as I can't even plan what clothes to wear in the morning, this obviously didn't occur. Instead I buried my head in the sand and went out for a meal at 2 Amys, allegedly the best place in all of DC to get a pizza. Now I have to admit that I am a fan of a real pizza. When I was younger, pizza came out of a box frozen and had strangely multi-coloured cheese nestling on top of some peroxide-bright-tomato sauce. Then later on when I discovered the joys of hand-made dough, wood burning ovens and the "Denominazione di Origine Controllata" (D.O.C) I became a pizza lover. I'd waltz around the kitchen shouting "beee-sa, beee-sa" in a ridiculous Italian accent. If there was a woman around I'd schmooze her by whistling and whispering "bella" everythime she'd walk by.

The D.O.C apply to all sorts of foods - in this case Neapolitan pizza - and are a set of guidelines laid out by the Italian government. All Neapoloitan pizza must be cooked in a wood burning oven, for example. Now I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I've never eaten one of those frozen pizzas out of a box when I've been blind drunk at 2 a.m (ironically this happened at Ballymaloe) - but if I'm going to actually sit down and eat one in a restaurant, I really am rather picky. If I find out that it's not really Buffalo Mozzarella on my crust, I throw my hands in the air, cross my arms furiously and tap my fingers one by one on the table rather like a five year old who didn't get the christmas present they were expecting.

2Amys abide by the D.O.C, and I was happy. Which is just as well because the "host" was more unfriendly than a lion whose wife you had stolen, house you'd moved into and told that he was adopted. She was an awful, gum-chewing, ashen-faced, jumble-sale clothed, ice cube of a woman. Bearing in mind that I had already been having a bad day, I was not exactly my usual placatory self. Her sarcastic smiles were met by my sarcastic smiles and pose that I imagine teenage girls use when they are taunting each other. When we were moved to a different table (at my request) I responded with the loudest most sarcastic "Oh thank you SO much you are SO kind." Horrible lady. So when the friendly little (she really was petite) waitress bounced up to our table, all smiles and enthusiasm, I was instantly charmed and ordered the largest beer known to mankind, followed by a Parsnip and Prosciutto crostini, some Salt Cod Croquettes and a Vongole pizza.

I absolutely adore Salt Cod, that wonderful ingredient used in so much of the Mediterranean, a throwback to the days when mariners had to preserve their catch in sea salt. Bound with potato, parsley and deep fried in breadcrumbs, they are a perfect snack with a chunk of lemon. 2Amys did a great job. There is always a danger that deep fried food can be awful, but in this case the oil they used was obviously clean (no nasty bitter taste) and the end product had probably been dried in a warming oven. The Crostini was a nice surprise when it arrived - a creamy Parsnip puree with a wafer thin shaving of Prosciutto. Wonderful, so it was. The following pizza was also fantastic. A wafer thin, light pizza crust topped with juicy sweet Cockles, sweet roasted Garlic, zingy Capers, fresh Parsley, a little Chili pepper and some Grana Padano. Needless to say I finished the lot with ease, unlike the lady sitting on the table adjacent to us who had obviously just given birth. (Or so I deduced - she was wearing a hospital bracelet and her husband was reading a book of baby names.) Poor woman obviously just wanted to be at home resting, not enduring one of the three witches of Eastwick at the door...

Obama and the Cheese Fries

Location: 1213 U Street NW, Washington, DC

There were a few reasons why I wanted to visit Ben's Chili Bowl, but when I saw that the president-elect had been there, I had to go along. If only I'd gone on the day I intended to, I could have clearly helped Mr. Obama with his inaugural speech. I'm sure he would have rushed home, sacked his speech writer and immediately offered me a job. Alas, as is the way of the world, I simply joined the lunchtime rush in ordering a "half smoke with cheese fries" cursing my lack of foresight - America's first black president was obviously going to pay a visit to a Washington DC institution that for decades has served the city's large black population with comfort food. I should have been camping outside, waiting for special branch to arrive and check me out. Ho hum.

Since my visit to Voodoo Doughnut in Portland, OR, I've been thinking hard about "cult food places". In a west Wales context we're talking the Central Cafe in Newcastle Emlyn, or in an Edinburgh context we could be talking about La Favorita - those places that are a microcosm of the community that they serve. They are evidence that a food 'experience' is as much about context as the food itself. When I'm in Sicily, I want the freshest seafood cooked simply with garlic, parsley, lemon and olive oil. When I'm in Germany I want a bratwurst.

And when I'm at Ben's, I want soul food.

Opened in 1958, and having served the same mix of greasy fries, bowls of smoking chili and hot dogs ever since, what really excites me about Ben's is that you get a piece of the past when you visit. Much of the furniture is still from the 1950's, and as Washington was officially a segregated city when Ben's first opened it's doors, you're also getting a feel (and nothing more than) of how this particular community on the U-street corridor (affectionately known as 'Black Broadway') maintained their essence. It survived violent riots following the assassination of Martin Luther King and the economic depression of the 1980's, when the area was a hot-bed of drug use and completely off limit to the middle, chattering, classes who schmooze the place nowadays. But the locals still came. They were dining on memories, transported to their youth and the core of who they are.

I loved the fact that as I plopped my bottom on a rickety, swivel-crazy, plastic leather stool, a large, African-American lady bounced up looked me straight in the eye and said "Hey baby, what you want?". (Admittedly I was a little startled and only just managed to say 'a half smoke please' without sounding too ridiculous.) Just imagine how the magic would have been lost if she had said "What could I get you, my fine looking fellow?".

The food itself wasn't brilliant: dirty, greasy and altogether bad for you. But at the same time utterly wonderful and that is the question that needs to be answered. How can something so average, inspire so many? After all, Ben's has a loyal following of celebrities including Bill Cosby (he never has to pay), Denzel Washington and Bono. My sense is that it's a meeting place in the same way that the church once was, or the post office is for the elderly - a place where the true locals can catch up on the news. The food just happens: it's an ice breaker for the secret gossiping of teenage girls, the frustrations of middle-aged women and the resigned shrugs of elderly men. There will, no doubt, be massive amounts of hope as well. America has unearthed something special, and there will be no-where sweeter than Ben's come its inauguration.

Kaz Sushi Bistro

Location: 1915 I Street NW, Washington, DC

Ahhh, Sushi. If you want to look at exquisite knife skills, consummate calm, poise and all around serenity, then you go to a Sushi bar. I was a late starter to eating Sushi. Like so many people I thought it simply referred to raw fish and couldn't fathom why there were so many folk willing to pay through the nose for something that required (so I thought) little culinary skill at all. It was later that I learned that the term 'Sushi' actually refers to the type of rice used, hence the different styles of roll you get. The speed and accuracy with which they create these rolls is breathtaking. From my limited knowledge, 'Sashimi' is raw fish. 'Maki' are the little rolls, 'Nigiri' are the blocks of rice generally topped with raw fish and 'Temaki' are the cone-like shaped rolls. After that, I'm still at a bit of a loss. It takes me absolutely ages to order in a Sushi bar, which is why places with those little train-tracks full of food are such a good idea - not only can you gawp at the technique, but you can eat what you want, and no more. I really should go to Japan one day and learn more.

The other day I ate at Kaz Sushi Bistro in Washington, DC and it started with the same feeling I always have when going into a Sushi place: a sense that I am about to be underwhelmed. It's really not fair of me. I never feel that way if I'm about to eat tapas - but I assume my lack of knowledge is such that I have no idea if I'll feel fed or not. Kaz's has won numerous local awards recently for the innovation of its food. You can see this in the menu. The classic Nigiri, Sashimi and Rolls are all there, but so too are Kaz's signature sushi, including tuna with fore gras-miso, sake-poached scallop with lemon and coriander or salmon with mango puree. This was looking very much like "fusion-food", something else I'm a little sceptical of and I therefore opted for the more normal sounding tempura clams with green tea salt and lime, some seared octopus heads with lime, and a range of maki plus a seaweed salad.

Very tasty indeed: undoubtedly fresh ingredients, cooked well. The clams were beautifully sweet and the tempura feather light. I wasn't entirely sure what the 'green-tea salt' contributed: I could only taste salt and no green tea. But very tasty none the less. As for the octopus, my partner and I almost lost it when an eye-ball popped out at one point, but beyond the squeamishness, the texture was amazing: silky smooth without a hint of that awful rubbery feeling you get when eating badly cooked Calamari. I could be wrong, but I was sure I detected a taste of Sake: I wonder if the little tentacles had been flambéed?

Business: Cooking for Vegans

One of the more difficult things when cooking for a group of people is that in general, you're going to have differing palettes sitting around the table. This is part of my rationale for being extremely suspicious of any sort of eating fad, such as that ridiculous thing the "Atkins Diet" that so many women were following just a few short years ago: people seem to buy into them and become difficult. Whenever I'm asked to cook a meal for a dinner party, it's always a good idea to find out as much as possible about the guests: age, sex, dietary requirements, absolute pet hates in terms of food. That way you can plan a menu to suit everyone. There's nothing more awkward than having a vegetarian feeling left-out because the cook couldn't be more imaginative than the dreaded 'vegetable lasagna': so when I have the information I require, I liaise with the organizer and decide if we need a special menu for someone, or if everyone can eat the same fare. I always prefer the latter option - it's much more warm, cosy and inclusive.

On New Year's Eve I was asked to cook for a group of eight friends in Oregon. Nothing too fancy, a simple two course meal that they could sit around and munch on whilst seeing in 2009. I asked the usual questions and unearthed a woman, 27 years old, vegan, non-drinker. A few phone calls later and I was charged with making a vegan meal that everyone would enjoy. I used to be of the opinion that carnivores will never feel truly satisfied without meat (ridiculous) until I ate at David Bann, a vegetarian restaurant in Edinburgh, Scotland. The food was so wonderful, so satisfying that I didn't once think of having a kebab on the way home. I remembered that there were some serious use of root vegetables, and pulses. You felt full. You felt fed.

So I tried to recreate something similar and after some recipe searches came up with a simple two course meal, and the recipes (that were well received) are below. If anyone out there has more experience of feeding vegans, please e-mail me. I need to build up a good database of options! These recipes are inspired by, recipes from Moro, a great restaurant in London, England.

Roast Butternut Squash Steaks with a warm Chick Pea Salad, Stuffed Bell Pepper and Tahini Dressing
Serves 4

Ingredients:
1 medium size butternut squash, sliced into chunks lengthways and de-seeded
1 dessert spoon all-spice
A handful of sage leaves, shallow fried, to garnish

1 tin of Chick Peas (Garbanzo Beans), drained
1 small red onion, finely diced
2 teaspoons cumin seeds, toasted
A handful of coriander (cilantro)

2 Red Bell Peppers, halved and de-seeded
2 oven-roasted Tomatoes, quartered (you'll need to make these in advance)
1 head fennel, sliced thinly

For the dressing:
3 parts Tahini
2 parts Olive Oil
2 parts Water
3 parts Lemon Juice
1 clove Garlic, crushed
Sea Salt and Cracked Black Pepper

Method:
1. First make the dressing. Put all the ingredients into a blender and whizz until smooth. Add more water if required, the consistency should be quite liquid. Taste and season, set aside.
2. Pre-heat your oven to 200 degrees centigrade.
3. Place your chunks of squash into a bowl, drizzle with olive oil, all spice and some sea salt. Toss until well covered. Place on a baking tray. Bake for 30 mins or until tender and brown. Set aside in a warming oven.
4. While the squash is cooking start the peppers. Place them in the oven with the squash until they start to soften. Now stuff with the tomatoes and top with a layer of fennel. Bake until almost collapsing. Remove and set aside in a warming oven.
5. While that is all happening, make your chick pea salad. Simply toss the chick peas, diced onion, cumin and coriander with a little of the tahini dressing.
6. Assemble as follows: a few (three) slices of squash, pepper to the side with chick peas to the side also. Drizzle more dressing across squash and salad, garnish with shallow fried sage leaves and coriander.

Medjool Date and Orange Salad with Cinnamon and Mint
Serves 4

Ingredients:
4 Oranges, segmented
8 Medjool Dates, stoned and roughly chopped
1 dessert spoon icing sugar
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
A handful of Mint, roughly chopped

Method:
1. Easy: just mix everything in a bowl and serve. But do taste and correct the amount of sugar or cinnamon.