Lunch at L'Oranaise

Ah, sunny days and spontaneity. G and I were too snoozy to cook, ambling to Hyde Park Corner seemed like the perfect option and so a L'Oranaise trip happened. This place is a bit more on topic for this blog than some of our recent posts have been(!) and new for this post: I remembered to take my own pictures for the first time EVER. The things I do for you guys.

This was a light lunch so there was plenty of sharing, but look at the size of the drinks we started with:


Mine was only a smidge under a pint of blueberry smoothie, which was quite raspberry-heavy for a blueberry drink but had all the requisite seeds in it (it wasn't from a packet! hooray!) and was probably the most refreshing thing possible that time of afternoon. G's was simply wonderous; a caramel nut mocha frappe that sounds like a mouthful but had subtly rich flavours jumping out of it. Creamy and delicious.

Next was a mezze platter of shawarma chicken, hummus, cous cous, pitta and salad with tzatziki dressing:


The photo doesn't do justice to the brightness of the different components; it was actually a very colourful plate to look at. The cous cous is hiding under the tomatoes and had bits of red onion and sweetcorn and spring onion lurking in its depths, further increasing colour standards.

Both of us could quite happily have eaten the plate on our own; but, like I said, light lunch. The chicken was well-infused and soft, the tzatziki was zingy and there was enough pitta for the whole dish. Just perfect, if over in a flash (but that was completely our fault for sharing. Next time, greed all the way).

We decided on a banana split, but characteristically had decapitated half of it before even attempting to document it. Oops. There was honey and caramel sauce and if it hadn't been such a hot day the ice cream would have remained vaguely solid. The banana was the only natural ingredient in the dish, and certainly it wasn't quite as tasty as the mezze, but the flavours were well-balanced and we ate every last drop.

Then we went to the park and hung out. Thus ends the tale of the easiest lunch date ever. Obviously go; it's bloody brilliant, and couldn't have been more unfussy if we'd camped outside it in our pyjamas. The prices are exceptionally reasonable - our lunch, with extra drinks, came to a few pennies over 20 quid - and, if you're looking for something more substantial for the evening, they do wonderful authentic Algerian tagines (and pizzas, and cous cous, and stuff off the grill...). Love it.


L'Oranaise
1 The Crescent
Hyde Park
Headingley
Leeds
LS6 2NW
http://www.oranaise-cafe.co.uk/

How to do Italian cuisine, with love from Ikea and Greece: Giorgio's, Headingley

This time, Tom and I were determined not to get carried away. For the second in our dual-authored two-parter, hereby christened, "The notafuckingfoodie Banqueting Bonanza", we were most definitely dedicated to sticking to a student-esque budget. Sod's law, therefore, that the bill came to £60. Definitely not our fault. Yep.

Once again, our feelings came out as a very mixed bag. To help illustrate this we'll keep with the same format from before, for continuity's sake:

Tom over here...

... and Marianne over here.

NOT A MEAL FROM GIORGIO'S, BUT SOME DARN TASTY LOOKING ITALIAN GRUB.

Perhaps what struck me about Giorgio's was how plain it seemed. Every British city is swamped by Italian-inspired restaurant chains, from Ask to Zizzi, meaning any independent really needs to stand out. While Giorgio's red leather seats and trendy colour prints on the walls put one in mind of a fairly racy foreign bistro, the laminate flooring and Ikea door handles made it feel like so many of the newly-outfitted Hyde Park student houses we've come to know over the last three years.

Hmm, think I disagree here. Headingley is not just for students, honest, and Giorgio's sets itself out as a classy if unintimidating venue that even your grandma might well enjoy on a special occasion. And the waiters. They topped up our wine! They swept the crumbs away after every course! Maybe I should be more used to it but I am such a sucker for attentive service.

A disappointing starter for me - based on the assumption that the quality of a restaurant can be found in the way it approaches the basics, I ordered the classic Caprese salad. Sadly, at £6.50 it proved to be more of a Ca-pricey. The tomatoes were one-dimensionally sour and needed as much salt as possible to bring out any depth of flavour. The mozzarella had the texture of damp shortbread and was nowhere near creamy enough, while the basil leaves in an insufficient amount to provide the dish with any actual flavour.

My starter was mussels in cream and white wine sauce, which the accompanying sourdough lapped up (and it was a nicely olivey ciabatta. Came with a good, thick balsamic too). Can't go wrong. The mussels were huge and I hadn't eaten for at least half a day so wolfed the lot down. And, in fairness, they were cooked very well - not a sloppy or rubbery one in sight - but it was pleasant rather than spectacular.

Going again with the simple flavours, I had the gnocchi in a saffron and parmesan sauce. By far the highlight of my meal, the dish was a beautiful earthy yellow, and subtly flavoured with onion, garlic and parsley. Subtly to the point of not imparting any particular onto the dish, but the gnocchi's gutsiness was marvellously counteracted by the creamy sauce in an fairly irresistible combination that didn't fail to satisfy.

Main for me was fruita de mare with linguine, tomato and chilli. For someone that's awful at dealing with spicy food, I was surprised at how intense yet manageable the kick was. The tomato shone through, as did the clams.

This appears to be the order of the day with Giorgio's; everything is flavoured tastefully. It's not new, it's not particularly exciting, but it succeeds well in what it does.

Pudding was a tiramisu, and instead of pull[ing]-me-up, it let me down quite considerably. Although it was priced at £4.25 and the size of D battery, these failings may have been overlooked if it tasted of anything. It may be a criticism to level at all kinds of meals, but it just needed more alcohol and coffee. Even at that small size, it was just too spongy and creamy. Still, at least it came with an attractively sliced strawberry on the side.

My panna cotta got better throughout. The berries were... well they weren't sharp, but they were "not sweet" enough for there to be a contrast, and once I started taking bigger spoonfuls of panna cotta I managed to discern a genuinely wonderful vanilla undertone. If only there had been more of it, then it would have been worth the £4.75 listing.

Giorgio's is run by a lovely Greek fellow, and while the menu is varied and the food is good, it is inauthenic, standard Italian fare. Considering the restaurant's proximity to the fairly excellent Salvo's, it is quite a wonder how it manages to compete. However, for a quick meal out when you don't want to cook but want something a little more upmarket, it's perfect. There's a lunch menu available from 12 - 2 at £11 for two courses and £13 for three, making the prices ok enough to bring the family or a group of friends. For what it is (an unfussy, relaxed meal out) it's definitely worth a look-in.


Giorgio's Ristorante Italiano
70-72 Otley Road
Headingley
Leeds
LS6 4BA
0113 278 2030
www.giorgiosrestaurant.co.uk

A Mediterranean in Leeds: The Olive Tree

Well, to celebrate the ongoing success of notafuckingfoodie, the two of us went out for dinner at The Olive Tree - winner of the Best Mediterranean Restaurant in the Leeds Restaurant Awards. And as dedicated food bloggers (but not Fucking Foodies, mind), what was there to do but complete the meal with a review?

In terms of dividing up the writing, we'll use a cunning trick of internet publishing, and write with the following voices:

Tom here...

...and Marianne over here!

Upon walking into the restaurant we were immediately hit by the waft of good food and the buzz of lively chatter. But instead off getting bogged down in the miscellanea of the décor let's get straight down to business and talk about the food!

Chargrilled octopus on a bed of spinach with citrus dressing to begin with for me. My previous culinary experiences of octopus consisted of a tastelessly leathery sushi and gorgeously panfried tapas. This offering came in as a very good third experience - cooked so simply on the hot grill, the freckly, slightly burnt smokiness of the suckers and gorgeously meaty tentacles were brilliantly cut through with the dressing.

Starter of king prawns in a chilli and garlic cream sauce. These were surely not king prawns but Steroid Prawns. They were so huge, in fact, that their texture became even more squid-like than the octopus. Still gorgeous, however, and wonderfully complemented by an unusually sweet garlic aroma floating through the pool of cream sauce. All-in-all, though, the octopus juuuuust beat it.

The wine was a Cypriot white - named "Aphrodite" for some reason. Perhaps because of the ease with which one could knock it back? A fairly dry bottle of table plonk, really. Though pretty pricey at £14 a pop. Still, it added to the illusion of having a meal at some cheap family-run bistro near the coast in the mediterranean. And after all, that's why people eat at Greek restaurants, surely? That and the fabulous dips.

Ooh, taramasalata. Forgot about that. It was GORGEOUS, and deservedly award-winning. The cod roe almost took on a tomatoey flavour it was that juicy, yet remained rich and creamy. The just-warm pitta sticks that came with were the perfect accompaniment.

Agreed. I'd never claim to be an authority on Mediterranean dips (although growing up in south-west London has exposed me to an excessive amount of hummus) but it was possibly the best bowl of mashed up fish eggs I've ever eaten.

 
Main course for me was a joint of slow roast Kleftiko Lamb, a traditional Cypriot dish cooked with garlic and oregano. The meat was gorgeously tender, flaking softly off the bone at the merest stroke of a fork. served again of the spinach salad, the meat was incredibly well done, but felt it needed just a little kick more of garlic. Of course, as with anything labelled as 'traditional', I have no bloody idea whether the garlic is supposed to be subtly infused or powerfully overwhelming. But I love garlic. Crave it, even. Oh well.

Main of red mullet on bed of capers and salad: There were no capers. I love capers and there were none. That was half the reason I ordered the dish. The lack of capers was sort of made up for by the shock of not one but THREE red mullets sitting delicately poached on my plate. However much warm spinach salad the chefs were willing to throw at me (with again an unusually sweet vinaigrette! Is this a Greek thing or was there extra sugar in the kitchen?) there was no way I could eat all that fish. The, uh, petite wedge of lemon provided couldn't possibly make up for the lack of flavour throughout the mullet, and Tom gamely finished the dish off for me. Again, the lamb won in terms of amount, flavour, presentation (although the mullet's presentation was very good) and for simply having all the components listed on the menu. Hmph.

Since neither of our dishes came with something starchy to soak up the lashings of citrus dressing, we ordered a dish of Briam to share - a sort of Greek ratatouille flavoured with dill, the flavours were earthy and rich, but we just couldn't manage to eat all the food. Should have got the chips.

Dessert was baklava: initially was disappointed by having only one but then I realised not just how much it had been "poshed up" in terms of exquisite presentation, with trails of sauce and icing sugar floating over the bowl - I tasted the damn thing. More pistachios seeped out through the pastry layers than I could ever have imagined and the syrup was delicately flavoured and not too heavy. No need for any accompaniment; the baklava was balanced all on its little lonesome.

My Stafidhopitta was slightly less satisfying - similarly, a singular portion of filo pastry-based sweetness but instead of pistachios, was filled with sultanas and flavoured with orange liqueur. Unlike the delicately balanced baklava, it was just too sweet. To the point of sickliness, even, and had to be quickly counteracted by an immediate serving of strong espresso.

Overall, the food was impressive, if a little expensive. The bill for two eventually came to £96 - perhaps a little too much emphasis on filling stomachs rather than satisfying palates and well out of the range of most student budgets, but there exists a much more comfortably-priced set menu, with three (presumably smaller) courses for £14. We should have gone for that option really. Oh well.


The Olive Tree Headingley
74-76 Otley Road
Headingley
Leeds
LS6 4BA


Tel: 0113 274 8282
Email: contact@olivetreegreekrestaurant.co.uk


Website

Getting a taste for the tasting menu: Anthony's.

Today, my friends, I am taking you to Nom Central. The wonderful and expertly coiffed G turned 21 and, as the ultimate treat, we had the tasting menu at Anthony's.

There were thirteen in our party altogether, and the attention to detail, the level of knowledgeable service and mouthwatering presentation given equally to all of us was absolutely impeccable. Cannot commend the staff highly enough. Special mention goes to the dashing head waiter from Barcelona who could probably have told us where every ingredient was locally sourced from but instead gamely put up with many, many El Clásico jokes; you are brilliant. You are the bees' knees. Keep winning at life.


The mood lighting and tasteful minimalist cream interior set the relaxed mood, punctuated by swift service; all eight courses had about fifteen minutes between each and no-one was left waiting. Accompanied by approximately a bottle and a half of wine each, this is what we ate:

1. Duck confit, butternut squash purée, hazelnut powder.
Purée in this case means absolutely 100% smooth as a baby's bottom. It was like a zingy set yoghurt, offsetting the coarseness of the gamey duck. The hazelnut emphasised how sweet the duck was and tasted like Christmas on its own.

2. Onion risotto, parmesan air, espresso.
The parmesan came in a foam which oozed a mature aroma but, if anything, made the onion stronger. The espresso cut through the creamy sauce and created a wonderful residue which lingered long in the mouth after the course had gone.

3. Moroccan spiced scallop, apricot reduction, chocolate reduction, pistacho sauce, chocolate prawn cracker.
The point in the meal where the waiter definitely explained what everything was, but tipsy time meant it was more fun to discover the flavours yourself on the tongue. The soft scallop's delicate flavours were not overpowered by the spices, especially when teamed with the juicy apricot.

4. Smoked haddock, manchego, white sauce, chicken skin, chestnuts.
My absolute favourite of the evening. The white sauce was poured over the manchego, creating a theatrical level of smoke and showing off the nutty, meaty qualities of the smoked fish. To quote G's mother, 'Oh God, I've died and gone to heaven!'

5. John Dory, chorizo, whelks, butternut squash purée.
Ah well, you can't have it all. Unfortunately, no-one seemed to be a fan of the texture of the whelks; they were a little rubbery and a discernible flavour was lacking. Also, a slight sense of déja vu with the reappearance of the squash was a shame. The chorizo, however, was gorgeous, meaty and oily and wonderfully punchy, making the John Dory seem almost smoked. Yum. I would have had more of the chorizo than anything else!

6. Pork belly, pig's tail, pig's ear, sushi prawn.
This is a personal bugbear, but I was hoping for red meat for the 'main'. Not to detract from the loveliness of three different types of pork, however. This dish was particularly immaculately presented and, through experiencing different parts of the same animal on the same plate, it helped us appreciate the subtle flavours throughout the little meat we actually got. The prawn was similarly juicy and delicious.

7. Bulgur pudding, vanilla sponge, cardamom milk, apple sorbet.
The first of our two desserts would have been a posh rice pudding if it wasn't for the milk being sent down from heaven and the bulgur being as soft and starchy as the risotto we had eaten before. It definitely had an aroma of vanilla, rather than sugar, and the sorbet (while miraculously staying cold?!) tasted like extra apple juice had been syringed into the middle of it. About a melon ball's worth of appley concentration and I am salivating while writing this.

8. Peppermint chocolate cheesecake, salt toffee foam, brittle, almonds.
The cheesecake mousse came in two piped tubes about the size of a piece of chalk, but were surprisingly thick and substantial considering their size. The peppermint oil was particularly wonderful, offsetting the sweetness of the toffee foam. The cake was completed by the crunch of the nuts and brittle, similarly sweet and satisfying.


Lordy. Save those pennies, create a special occasion and go go go! Perhaps price-wise it might be sensible to go for the á la carte - and certainly the taste won't disappoint - but portion-wise we came away from the tasting menu not just feeling full but like we'd experienced a myriad of cookery delights and skills. This sort of place is deservedly a one-off, and definitely something to be experienced. The tastes will linger on for weeks afterwards.


Anthony's
19 Boar Lane
Leeds
LS1 6EA
0113 245 5922
www.anthonysrestaurant.co.uk

Ode to the Potato - from Earth to Oven

A belated update, due to the pressures of finishing off a degree. It's not as if there's been too much to write about, as I've been surviving mostly off coffee, instant noodles and bags of Bombay Mix; incredibly healthy, I know. Yet born of a need for low effort meals and an ever-dwindling supplies cupboard, I thought I'd share one of the more nutritious (and delicious!) meals from the last few weeks. There's a certain romance to the jacket potato that I've not quite been able to put my finger on – is it the lingering memory of an early childhood visit to the Tooting Spud-U-Like? Or its roots as a solid working class meal that appeals to my Guardian-reading public school guilt? The jacket potato has long been the cheap staple for lunch, served at home from the oven or out of a polystyrene tray in a cafeteria. Easily multiplied, requiring minimal effort and infinitely variable in the filling. It seems to be the ideal student meal (especially with the classic combination of baked beans and grated cheese), yet I feel the jacket potato is an all-too-rare occurrence in my own life. In the (going on) three years I've been a student, I can't say I've relied too many times on the simple pleasures the dish provides, often preferring more involved fare. As lovely as a couscous and feta salad is, it doesn't exactly fill a hole in the same way. Thus, I hereby present a simple mediterraneanish filling for the jacket potato that provides a welcome change from baked beans, but is still satisfying in its own way.

A quick note on cooking methods: a jacket potato is never made in a microwave. A baked potato, sure, if you're short on time, but it'll never develop the crisp skin and fluffy inside that defines the jacket potato.

Serves 1

1 largish potato (floury variety)

Sunflower/vegetable oil

Rock salt (i.e. coarse grains)

Half a courgette

2–4 cloves of garlic (depends on how garlicky you want the dish to be)

1 tablespoon of capers

2 tablespoons tomato purée

1 tsp dried / 1 tbsp fresh Basil

1/2 tsp dried / 1/2 tbsp fresh Oregano

Olive oil

Butter

Salt & Pepper, to taste

Grated Cheese (optional)

Begin by heating the oven to about 180℃. Clean and scrub the potato, and coat liberally in oil - olive oil may be healthier but doesn't quite crisp up in the way sunflower oil does. Then rub the sock salt into the oily potato. This draws out the moisture from the skin of the potato, again helping to create the desired crispy jacket. Whack the potato into the oven for an hour to an hour and a half, turning halfway through. I've yet to work out whether covering the potato in tin foil is at all beneficial, but intuition says it would keep the moisture in, delaying the development of a truly crisp skin.

For the filling, thinly chop the courgette and garlic, and fry in a mixture of butter and olive oil for about 5 minutes, until the mixture begins to brown slightly. Roughly tear up the herbs (if fresh) and add to the mixture, along with the capers, salt and pepper. Stir in the tomato purée and cook off for about 5 minutes more to let the flavours develop. Simple!

The potato is only done when the skin has browned and crisped up - the inside may be cooked long before that point, but remember this is a jacket potato, not merely a baked potato. The skin should audibly crack when you cut it open, and stick into your gums when you try and eat it.

When it's done, slice open, ladle on the topping and cover in more more salt and pepper if needed. I added cheese because I just needed it. Not a posh cheese either - it has to be the cheap kind that melts easily and coasts everything in a lovely fatty layer.

The filling may seem weird in that it doesn't feature onions (an omission caused by not having any in the house) but it didn't feel at at lacking. The beauty of the filling is that it is infinitely variable. Some sun-dried tomatoes, a couple of anchovies, or roasted aubergine would all have gone well. It may take a long time start to finish, but the effort level is so ridiculously low it hardly matters.