Food heroes on Koh Samui

My first-ever blog post was about eating Rick Stein's beef-dripping fish and chips by the harbour at Falmouth in Cornwall.

I enjoyed Rick's TV series on 'local food heroes' a few years ago. He visited food producers and restaurateurs all around the UK who were doing great things with local produce and bringing great food into the lives of local people.

In Koh Samui, Thailand, on a week's holiday for a friend's wedding, we found our own local food heroes. Three ladies cooking simple and delicious food in a roadside shack opposite the resorts lining Lipa Noi beach.

They just served the basics: red curry, green curry, papaya salad, pad thai, crispy pork, tom yum goong, tom kha gai, stir-fried meat and vegetables. But it was authentic and cheap and delicious.

Papaya salad

Prawn green curry

Several of the wedding guests could be found there every lunch and dinnertime for the whole week, sitting on plastic stools around the plastic tables and washing down plates of delicious food with ice-cold Singha or Beer Chang.

Our food heroes' cooking was full of fresh local ingredients: shallots, chilli, spring onion, fish sauce, coconut milk, Thai basil, kaffir lime leaves, galangal, coriander, bamboo shoots, prawns, fish and meat. Every dish had zing, fire and the perfect balance between sweet, salty, sour and hot flavours.

It wasn't just the food that made them heroes. They offered an authentic, real eating experience on an island that is dominated by large resorts and tacky neon-sign bucket-drink nightclubs. The resorts opposite their roadside shack all had restaurants, but the food was invariably mediocre and incredibly overpriced by comparison.

Our food heroes' basic eatery was a place to escape to, where we got a friendly welcome and a taste of the real Thailand every day.

Our local food heroes on Koh Samui

A foody, winey weekend in Melbourne

There they were, in all their crispy-crumbed deliciousness. On trips to Spain I would prowl the side streets in search of the best, the freshest. Sidle up to a crowded bar at the sight of laden trays coming out of the kitchen. Here in Melbourne was perfection - salt cod croqueta perfection, as good as the ones in Madrid, and found only three and a half hours from Auckland.

It was at MoVida for Friday lunch with sister Libby and those salt cod croquetas and a glass of Verdejo that I realised I was in for a proper foody, winey weekend. MoVida is very good at food and wine. Spanner crab salad with piquillo peppers. Rabbit loin wrapped in pancetta with lardons, peas and black sea salt flakes. Pressed quail and morcilla with apple and pickled garlic. Rioja and ribera del duero. What's not to love? And you can almost imagine you're in Barcelona's barri gotic as you step outside into Hosier Lane, with its walls covered in graffiti murals. We loved it so much we went back again for Sunday lunch.

However tempting it was to sit in MoVida all afternoon working our way through the wine list, it was time to shop up an appetite for dinner. Mission accomplished thanks to Zara and Myer. A tiny bar called Von Haus down a little side street off Bourke Street was the perfect place to take a load off. You feel like you are walking into a Victorian terraced house in London 100 years ago as you enter the wood-panelled, dining room-like bar from the dark hallway. They've got a big wine rack on one wall, a blackboard wine list and charcuterie plates.

We had put our names down early at Mamasita, the loud and fun Mexican hotspot on Collins Street. That was a work of genius, because when six of us arrived, hungry, at the agreed time the queue stretched down the stairs and almost on to the street. We scoffed elotes callejeros - grilled corn on the cob covered in cheese, chipotle mayo and lime juice. Crispy tostaditas came topped with slow-cooked pork shoulder, and crab, avocado & tamarind mayo. Soft tacos with braised ox tongue & cheek; quesadillas with chargrilled chicken, coriander and cheese. We washed all the delicious, big flavours down with jugs of margarita.

For some reason I'd never been to Melbourne before. It won't be the last time, as by the end of that Friday it had already climbed pretty high up on my list of favourite cities. Riverside bars, little lanes, shopping, trams, a top notch food scene and a wine region an hour away. That's where we found ourselves late the next morning, contemplating our breakfast of two dozen oysters and a tasting flight of the sparkling wine range at Domaine Chandon in the Yarra Valley. The winery was set up by Moet & Chandon in the eighties, ostensibly as an insurance policy on their Champagne production. If their plan is to replicate Champagne as closely as possible, they are doing a pretty good job. The climate and soil conditions are ideal, and the quality of the fizz is fantastic even though they lack the underground chalk cellars of their home region.

Lunch at Yering Station was spectacular, and would have been even more so if it hadn't been raining - the restaurant has a terrace overlooking farmland to hills beyond. After a wine tasting with the friendly staff in the original 1859 winery building, we headed through to the sleek, modern restaurant to indulge in European-influenced food. Perfect sweet crispy-edged scallops with corn salsa and avocado puree followed by rare beef fillet with port jus almost had me falling asleep in the car on the way to De Bortoli. The 'sticky experience' tasting flight quickly fixed that though. The famous Noble One botrytis semillon in all its marmaladey, honeyed perfection was followed by two barrel-aged tawnys, then a fortified and barrel-aged Noble One (a bit like Madeira) and finally a liqueur Muscat with flavours of raisins and toffee.

We unanimously agreed that dinner back in Melbourne should be light and late, so Izakaya Den in an unmarked basement on Russell Street was the perfect choice. The star of the numerous tapas-style izakaya dishes was the tuna tataki. Perfect cubes of tuna, briefly seared on four sides and placed on a blob of wasabi mayonnaise were so mind-blowingly fresh and good we couldn't resist ordering more.

Like any gastronomic city worth its Maldon sea salt Melbourne has a fantastic food market - the Queen Victoria Market. It's not as touristy as London's Borough Market and not as overwhelming as Barcelona's La Boqueria. Coffee and croissants followed by spicy lamb borek saw us through our hangovers perfectly on Sunday morning.

By Sunday lunch, back at MoVida, we felt as if we had been eating all weekend - but there are still so many dozens of restaurants, bars and wineries which we didn't have time to discover. There is only one thing to fix that - book flights back as soon as possible.

A taste of Europe in Auckland

Summer has arrived in Europe, and for the first time since 2004 I'm not there. Not that June in Auckland is proving all that bad - the temperature gauge has crept up to 17 degrees celsius today and Sunday's forecast cold snap came to nothing. But I've still got itchy feet thinking of those fortunate souls sitting on olive-tree-shaded terraces in the south of France, devouring fat spears of creamy-white asparagus and contemplating the sparkling Med. I'm even envying Londoners, for whom a rare sunny June weekend brings the chance to head to one of the city's excellent parks armed with a picnic blanket, punnets of oversized, juicy strawberries and a chilled bottle of riesling.

Over the past couple of months I've been thrilled to discover that even though we're down under, we don't have to go without the gourmet treats Europe has to offer. My exploration of Auckland's markets and foodie shops has revealed many of my old favourites available in abundance here, thanks to the efforts of a growing number of importers. In London I bade an emotional farewell to plump, meaty Manzanilla olives, fearing we wouldn't meet again until my next visit to Europe - only to find them on the shelf at Sabato in Mt Eden. Sabato also stocks Leone, those gorgeous bronze-die-cast sweets found on bar counters throughout Italy, along with Italian licorice in pretty vintage tins.

At Nosh I've found reasonably-priced 00 flour for my pasta-making adventures, various cured meats such as serrano ham from Spain and prosciutto from Italy sliced to order, and marinated anchovy fillets. I'm going to thread these onto toothpicks with the aforementioned Manzanilla olives and some pickled chillies (also spotted at Sabato) to make the small-sized but big-flavoured tapa I enjoyed in San Sebastian in northern Spain. Over there it was excellent washed down with a glass of txacoli, the local fresh, young and slightly fizzy white wine. I'll have to think up a suitable wine match for it here.

Then there's the excellent French-themed farmers' market in Parnell, La Cigale. Their boxes of frozen Paneton croissants, which you prove and bake yourself at home, turn out just like the real thing - as if you'd just popped down to your local boulangerie in France. You can even buy the excellent French Bonne Maman jam at La Cigale to go with them.

The market feels a bit like a village market in France, with its gazebo-shaded tables laden with produce. You can get a freshly-grilled croque monsieur - the ultimate hangover cure - or a crepe to munch on while you peruse the wine shelves, which display an interesting variety of European wines.

Finally, macaroon success

This blog is supposed to be about eating away from home, but today I'm writing about macaroons, which I have been attempting to make at home. They're French, so I figure they have a place here. 


I've had a thing for proper macaroons since I first tried them at Laduree in the Printemps mall on a work trip to Paris a few years back. I don't have a sweet tooth but I do love contrasting textures in food. So these decadent treats, with their thin crunchy shells yielding to chewy insides and creamy fillings, occupy a high rank in my gastronomic top-10. Having eschewed the cupcake craze, this is one foodie bandwagon I've gleefully jumped aboard.


They're tricky little bastards though. Several attempts over the past few weeks have ended in disaster - cracked tops and spreading in the oven being the main issues (although the resulting "meringue biscuits" were yummy).


So you can imagine my delight yesterday evening when, after I'd all but given up on the damn things, Henry had a go and produced an almost-perfect batch on his second attempt. Ok, a few were cracked, but there were enough smooth-topped, crinkly-footed, perfectly round little marvels for me to assemble a baker's dozen of finished macaroons, held together with chocolate ganache. 

But I've now been upstaged in my own kitchen. This obviously won't do, so I'm more determined than ever to master the macaroon. Henry reckons my principal mistakes have been a) not beating the egg whites enough; b) not folding the mixture together thoroughly enough; and c) having the oven too hot. More thorough beating of the egg whites will solve the spreading problem. The folding is tricky - you don't want to over-fold and lose all the air in the mixture, but under-folding means the biscuits won't form a strong, smooth top. The mixture needs to be thick, but fairly runny and glossy too. And next time I'll try baking them on the conventional bake setting rather than fan-bake, which I'm hoping might eliminate cracked tops altogether.

Waiheke Island wine

I'm back in New Zealand, where mussels are the size of plum tomatoes and eight bucks worth does lunch for four. Where fish is just-caught, flavoursome and plentiful. And where wine, grown under the dazzling sun through languorous, never-ending summer months, jumps out of the glass, bursting with freshness and flavour.


Picking season is well underway down under and winemakers on Waiheke Island, a 40-minute ferry ride from downtown Auckland, are upbeat about the quality of this year's harvest - despite a fairly tough La Nina-influenced growing season.


Aromatic white and Bordeaux red varietals are widely planted on the island. Merlot and friends are not homesick as they inhale Waiheke's cooling sea breezes, sun themselves on its gently-rolling hillsides and dig their toes into the free-draining clay soil.

We visited a couple of the island's 30-odd wineries during a sunny early April weekend. Topknot Hill Wines produces a concise range from grapes grown on the east side of the island. Their tasting room shares premises with the Waiheke Island Brewery at the relaxed Wild on Waiheke complex, where you can have a casual lunch, play petanque, shoot a few clay birds or try your hand at archery between the rows of vines. The latter two pursuits are probably best attempted before a stint in the tasting room.


I liked their 2008 sauvignon blanc. It's always a nice change to drink sauv grown somewhere other than Marlborough. The regional differences are obvious. This racy number was like a summer fruit salad of grapefruit, apples and passionfruit with lime juice squeezed over.


Way over the other side of the island, the remote Man o' War winery must have one of the most relaxed little tasting rooms in the world. A converted caravan sits on a grassy clearing, surrounded by trees and with views out to the tidal flats and sea. You can do your tasting at a picnic table while enjoying the sunshine and view. There's even free sunscreen.

There were several really interesting wines on show here, including the 2010 Gravestone sauvignon blanc semillon. The 30% semillon component has been oaked, resulting in light smoke on the nose amid melon and apple aromas. 


Their 2008 Ironclad red is a blend of 52% merlot and 27% cabernet franc with malbec, cabernet sauvignon and petit verdot making up the rest. A quarter of it has been aged in new oak, predominantly French, with the rest in old barrels. Very firm tannins suggest it needs at least five years' more in the bottle, but there are beautiful ripe red berry and spice flavours coming through now. Decanter magazine's Steven Spurrier proclaimed it the best new world red in 2010 - an impressive achievement given the stiff competition it's up against.


If I had to pick a favourite I'd go for the 2010 Exiled pinot gris, grown on neighbouring Ponui Island. The grapes are a special clone with looser bunches, allowing later harvest. The result is a luscious, silky, medium-sweet wine with honeysuckle and tropical fruit flavours. Simply delicious.

Ahmedabad

Bustling and chaotic, Gujarat state's capital Ahmedabad is at first glance just like any other Indian city. But give it a bit of time and you'll notice a difference. There's no hassle. No touts, no persistent rickshaw drivers, no beggars, no shopkeepers calling out as you pass. The only attention you'll receive is in the form of cheerful greetings from curious locals. This could possibly be India's friendliest city.


There are a few sights to occupy you if you have a day to spare here, as we did after watching New Zealand thrash Zimbabwe in the world cup cricket. The spooky Dada Hari step well, built in the 16th century as a communal water source, comprises a staircase leading down to a small octagonal well a few storeys below ground. Carved stone columns hold up a semi-roof, allowing dusty strips of sunlight into the lower depths. The stone walls are intricately carved with floral designs and Arabic script (the well was built during Mughal rule). There are many such constructions in Gujarat and Rajasthan, their elaborate carving reflecting the importance of water in these drought-prone northwestern states.

The modern city also conceals a number of historic houses, tombs and mosques, including the beautiful, open-air Sidi Sayad mosque. Open on three sides to keep worshippers cool, the 16th century cloistered stone structure features intricate, lace-like carved screens - some depicting organic tree and leaf designs, others geometric patterns. 

Museum buffs will also be at home here, with an eclectic selection including a kite museum, utensil museum and the Calico Museum of Textiles, with its world-leading collection of Indian silks.


But that's enough sightseeing - it's time to eat. With 90% of the population vegetarian, Gujarati cuisine is balanced and varied enough to satisfy even the most dedicated carnivore. Protein-rich lentil dishes sit alongside a mind-boggling array of snacks, side dishes and main courses. It's well worth giving yourself extra time in Ahmedabad just for the food. 


Two of the city's best eateries can be found at the House of MG, a wonderful boutique hotel housed in a historic merchant's house near the river. At the casual Green House restaurant downstairs, the extensive snack-focused menu offers treats such as makai ghugra (deep-fried crispy dumplings filled with onion, cabbage, almonds and coriander); and bataka vada (balls of light gram flour batter enclosing spicy mixed vegetables flavoured with herbs and chilli). They're all served with lashings of hot and sweet dark red chilli sauce, fiery green chilli sauce and a dried red chilli to crumble over.

Come back for dinner to try unique Gujarati curries based around small gram flour dumplings, vegetables or paneer cheese.


The hotel's rooftop restaurant, Agashiye, dishes up legendary thalis (traditional round alloy plates holding a variety of mini-dishes) on a grand and delicious scale. The daily-changing offering comprises several vegetable preparations - we had okra curry, spiced potatoes and a complex and delicate dhal - with four different accompanying curry sauces; two of them milky and slightly sweet, a unique feature of Gujarat's food. There were so many different chutneys - some hot, others sweet - that they required a separate plate on the side. Two types of roti bread, two types of poppadom and sweet, sticky Gujarati rice thrown in will have you loosening the belt buckle a notch or two.

The only downfall - Gujarat is under total prohibition, so there'll be no cold Kingfisher to wash your curry down with. Don't let that put you off visiting though - foreigners can easily obtain liquor permits from the major hotels.

Kashmir

Squeezed between the Himalayas on one side and the Pir Panjal range on the other, dotted with terraced rice paddies, fruit orchards and rows of poplars, the Kashmir Valley is a picture of tranquility. Or at least it should be. Ever since Indian independence, the valley has been periodically marred by violence. The drive for independence, and three wars with Pakistan, have divided the population and nearly ruined the tourism industry. While visitors are now creeping back following the latest spate of violence in summer 2008, the situation is still tense, discouraging many.

The result of this is poignantly obvious in Srinagar, the region's summer capital. On Dal Lake, row upon row of colonial-style house boats - over a thousand of them - float forlornly at their moorings, bereft of visitors. House boats have been a feature of the lake ever since the Raj era, when the British were forbidden to own land. While most of the boats on the lake today are less than 40 years old, you wouldn't know it. Stepping aboard is like entering a time warp: poky rooms bedecked with chandeliers, carved walnut panels, chintzy curtains and frilly lamp shades. 

The struggling house boat owners, for whom tourism is their lifeblood, long for an end to conflict in the region. The visitors' book on Morning Glory, the floating palace of kitsch on which we spent a night, revealed only three or four groups had stayed in 2010. No wonder many boats have been abandoned, listing into the water lilies, their wooden hulls rotting as their owners seek an income elsewhere.

Waking before dawn and boarding a shikara (a gondola-like boat) to visit the floating vegetable market on the lake is a magical experience. As you drift through the canal-like passageways in the pre-dawn greyness, the eerie, wailing call to prayer from half a dozen different mosques echoes across the water and off the black shadows of waterside houses. By the time dawn breaks, the floating market is in full swing. Dozens of growers and buyers perch on shikara filled with vegetables, eyeing up each others' produce. Dressed in pheran (long woollen capes) and huddling over kangri (wicker baskets holding pottery bowls filled with hot coals) to keep warm, they weigh vegetables on rudimentary scales and transfer purchases from boat to boat.

Winter tourism is making a positive impact on the region's economy. The world-class backcountry skiing at Gulmarg, on the flanks of Mt Apharwat in the Pir Panjals west of Srinagar, has attracted crowds every winter since the gondola opened six years ago. Skiing here is a truly unique experience. Many of the creaky, old-fashioned hotels are heated with wood-fired stoves. Domestic tourists learn to ski using 1980s equipment on the snow-covered golf course. Sledge-wallahs tout for business and will drag your skis up the hill to your hotel for a few rupees. Soldiers from the nearby High Altitude Warfare School thunder through the village in giant trucks. Groups of pheran-clad locals, clutching kangri underneath for warmth, gawp at the skiers and boarders arriving at the bottom of the gondola.

Reflecting the region's geographical isolation, Kashmiri cuisine is deliciously unique. Elaborate spice combinations are used and sometimes meat is cooked in yoghurt or milk - resulting in pale-coloured but flavour-packed sauces. Popular dishes include goshtaba and rista (meatballs in spicy sauce); Kashmiri biryani (almost Chinese in its flavour combinations) and kanti; deep-fried diced chicken served in an oniony, sweet and spicy sauce. But let's not forget the Kashmiri dish that has travelled far beyond this small valley to become a favourite at your local curry house: the world-famous, fiery-rich, lamb rogan josh.