Pretty Grand: A Tale in Dining On the Go

There's a certain terrible transience that necessarily comes with any area associated with transport. I suppose that's a bit obvious really. But stopping to seriously consider the matter, it is a symptom of the modern world that we can never find the time to sit down and relax whenever we try and go anywhere. Consider Heathrow's Terminal 5 - supposedly a multi-million pound luxury hotspot to facilitate the mass transport of holidaymakers, the sheer amount of bloody chain restaurants and overpriced tourist shit make it an even more stressful entry on the bulletin list of enforced foreign relaxation.

St Pancras railway station is similarly marketed as some kind of boutique haven; a place where trendy young women in heels and silk scarves relax before a trip up north by filling their Louis Vuitton suitcases with yet more designer clobber. Instead I find the whole setup rather depressing - as lovely the architecture may be (and so far removed from horrid King's Cross next door) the whole place smacks of desperate consumerism. All the typical high street chains are crammed into brick alcoves; there's only so many Moleskines a man can take.

Upstairs, however, is home to the St Pancras Grand, a restaurant that holds the accolade of being able to rob me of my London cynicism for a few precious hours. It may be yet another chain (part of the Searcy brand) but the restaurant has a notable individuality that extends purely beyond its delightful location. Situated opposite the Eurostar trains bound for Paris, there is a definite Gallic air to the place, and the inside is done up like an old continental art deco establishment. Save for the Chip & Pin machines, you could be mistaken for thinking you'd fallen into a wormhole to the 1930s. I half expected to turn round and see Agatha Christie dining with James Bond at the table across from us.

The à la carte menu isn't exactly cheap (expect to pay £14-20 for a main course) but we were able to take advantage of a seriously good offer by booking through Toptable. £15 for a two course meal with complimentary glass of "pink fizz"? Yes please. The cheap menu was obviously fairly limited, with a choice of three for both starters and main course, but the old adage "you get what you pay for" is fairly appropriate. And since what you pay for is a rather delicious meal, there's no harm in that.

I ordered the Cornish Brown Crab served with toast, but was told sadly that the dish wasn't on the menu that night, replaced by a rather delectable salmon, trout and saffron potato terrine. It was fairly great, if a little mild. Still, an absence of gutsy salt or lemon was made up for by a good whack of chives, bring the meal up to taste.

Roast chicken with bacon, croutons and a poached egg was the main course (narrowly beating a salmon fishcake). The chicken was beautifully soft, clearly slow-roast for a good length of time, and covered in a wonderfully deep and rich gravy that tasted faintly of mushrooms. The mildly vinegary poached egg was a slight anomaly perched on top of the delectable meal, but the yolk provided even more depth of flavour to the chicken.

Desserts are priced at £6.50, but they are (according to my younger brother) bloody good. I wouldn't know; I had an espresso and a brandy in what I hoped was a Mad Men-esque throwback to the days of the liquid lunch, but more likely made me come across as a slight alcoholic. Oh well.

So transient and vaguely corporate it may be, but you could do a lot worse if you feel like chilling out and stepping back in time during a hectic trip out of London.

St Pancras Grand
St Pancras Station
Upper Concourse
Euston Road
London
N1C 4QL
http://www.searcys.co.uk/stpancrasgrand/
0207 870 9900

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.

"The Lebanese invented everything, you know..." How to make tabbouleh, with love from Beirut.

Mmmkay, so it's been a little bit longer than a week. If anyone is particularly bothered, I'M SORRY. Like the rest of the student population, I've had work to do. This time of the year is the worst.

But anyways. Tabbouleh, done properly. I rang home to clarify and everything. The main point to remember is that you want it as acidic as possible; we're talking so sharp it will take a layer off the roof of your mouth. If you were to do a quick Google for tabbouleh recipes you will often find English versions recommending the usage of fresh mint or spring onion; this, according to my Beirutian father, is absolutely plain wrong. Far too mellow. To go over:

1. Try not to substitute ingredients. It really is worth beef tomatoes instead of normal, for instance.
2. Don't add anything else. This is my grandma's simplest and best.
3. When it says chop finely, this means 5x5mm pieces. Really small.
4. Don't chicken out! Once you've experienced the amount of zing, you will be hooked. Promise.

TETA MARIE'S TABBOULEH.

Makes a large salad bowl's worth of, uh, salad.

Half a mug of dried bulgur wheat

Two beef tomatoes

One large white onion

Whole packet of dried parsley, or half a pot's worth of fresh.

Extra virgin olive oil

Lemon juice (in all honesty, the bottled stuff is better in this case, it's slightly sharper)

salt and pepper

Soak the bulgur wheat for about half an hour, so it still retains a bit of bite. FINELY chop the tomatoes, onion and parsley if using fresh. Bung everything mentioned so far into a bowl, mix well.

Season well with salt and pepper. Add two or three good glugs of olive oil, so the mixture looks glossy. If you want to do the lemon juice the Lebanese way, add enough so that the lemon is very definitely the main flavour. You should find that the other flavours will still come through because of the salt, but they'll be secondary certainly. If you want to balance your flavours go right ahead I guess but y'know, I will judge you from the spheres of the internet.

And you're done! Serve with most fish, especially salmon. Get some pitta or, ideally, khobez (one of the shops on the takeaway row near The Library/Henry Price does large bags of it), tear chunks off and use as pockets to eat the tabbouleh with your hands. Scrumptious :)

The Joys of Kale, and a Simple Dissertation Supper

For the first time in my three years at Leeds University, I bought a £5 organic veg box from the (slightly scarily vegan) Green Action Co-Op. Noticeable in among the refreshingly grubby potatoes and slightly shrunken celeriacs was a massive bag stuffed with some unknown green leaf - upon enquiry, I found out it was kale. Obviously, a quick wikipedia search and scour through the recipe books for what to do next was in order.

Not really coming up with anything in particular, I decided to just freestyle a variant on the standard lunch. Since the dissertation's due in (yikes) less than 14 days now, long complex recipes are out of the question. The following took a maximum of 15 minutes start to finish, is nice and light and I reckon is probably well healthy. Y'know, to get the brain in gear.

75g Linguine (or similar pasta)

100g Kale
1 Egg 
1 Handful Sunflower Seeds
1 Handful Pumpkin Seeds
2 Cloves Garlic
1 Dried Chilli
Butter
Salt & Pepper


Put the water on for the pasta to boil, and water for the egg if you want to poach it. Pick the leaves of the kale off the woody stalks and wash well. Rip into bite-seized pieces, and steam for about 5-10 minutes. Meanwhile, finely slice the garlic, crush the chilli and gently fry in the butter with the seeds. Poach or fry the egg (and here you're on your own - I always try and poach eggs a different way and it never really works properly), add the kale to the buttery garlic/seed mixture and toss around until all mixed together. Throw in the pasta, top with the egg and season. I drizzled a bit of walnut oil on top for flavour. Walnut oil's good for the brain, right?


Kale really surprised me - it was incredibly tasty, and had a wonderfully springy texture that  was completely different to any other cabbage I'd eaten. If I had them, I'd add some pine nuts, or some crispy lardons to really liven up the flavours. Hell, even a splash of cream could really transform the dish. On the flipside, though, cooking for one is always a pretty depressing experience for me. A good meal is tripled when those eating it are doubled. Or something like that, at least. Back in first year I often cooked for myself, due to differing work schedules/diets and the lack of a proper communal area back in halls. As nice as it was to have the freedom to try cooking new types of food, eating was mostly a solitary affair. Thank Nigella for housemates!

A Simple Student Lunch

Feeling the pinch of rapidly dwindling finances in the aftermath of a week spent eating out, and mildly hungover and bloated as a direct result, I had a craving for something frugal, carby and tasty for lunch today. Perfect for a meal for one, the ingredients are pretty basic and all stuff I have kicking around in my cupboard. I used Blue Dragon noodles, but it doesn't really matter I suppose.

Handful of Monkey Nuts

Handful of Pumpkin Seeds

Handful of Sunflower Seeds

75g Wholeweat Noodles

1 Green Chilli

2 Cloves Garlic

1 Small chunk of Ginger

Oil

Light Soy Sauce

Put water on for the noodles. Peel the monkey nuts and remove all skins. Crush them with a rolling pin (or pestle and mortar if you're feeling fancy), and toast gently in a dry frying pan (or wok) with the seeds for about 2-3 minutes. Cook the noodles as per the packet. While that's happening, de-seed the chilli, and finely chop, along with the garlic and ginger. Pour a small amount of oil into the pan with the seeds and throw in the garlic, ginger and chilli. Stir it about a bit to get until it all takes on a lovely golden sheen. Add the cooked noodles and a splash of soy sauce, mix about for about 30 seconds and serve. Simple!

As the photo shows, it went down pretty quickly, but I felt satisfied without any heaviness. If you wanted to be flash, I suppose you could toss in some thin strips of chicken or pork. Tofu if you're that way inclined. But tofu is clearly for wimps.