Then you missed possibly the game of the season, amazing stuff, end to end at such a fast pace it made a typical premiership game look like a 7 inch single playing at 33 & 1/3. And to cap it all, a fantastic winning goal by the buck-toothed wonder that is Ronaldinho.

Some of you may remember this article I wrote some time ago about my “failure” as a vegetarian and my quest for the different. Well, I’ve done it. Squirrel had become a bit of an obsession, I’d chased up all sorts of alleys (Julian Barnes never replied to my e-mail either) and I’d become somewhat resigned to not getting squirrel unless I paid a Kings ranson for it. I had been offered squirrels at 15 pounds a pop by a butcher on Borough market, but thought that was rather an exorbitant price to pay for what was essentially vermin.

A couple of months ago mother-in-law, who of course had heard about my quest, phoned me up to tell me about an article she’d heard on the radio, about a butchers in Ludlow that sold squirrel. Unfortunately I forgot the name of the butchers almost as soon as I’d got off the phone, and nothing more came of it.

Go forward two months though, and i got an email from The Wife – ‘squirrel obtained!!!’ Mother-in-law had been in the area, and had gone round all the butchers looking for the one that sold squirrel. She found him, only to be told that they didn’t stock it in the shop, because they were scared they’d get their windows smashed in, but if they went to the storehouse someone would be able to sort her out. Along they went, and yes, someone came out with a sackful of frozen squirrels, wanting to know how many she wanted. They were sourced from the local game keeper, who used traps rather than other forms of pest control.

And so, after a trip up north, three squirrels in the freezer! I found four guinea-pigs friends to share the culinary experience, and invited them round on the 3rd Oct for sunday lunch.

How to braise a squirrel in cider

First take your squirrel from the vacuum bag and wash thoroughly, take out the organs to add to the stock later, and try to get rid of the few stubborn fine hairs still lingering. It’ll look like this:

Cut the squirrel in half just underneath the rib cage, half a squirrel = a decent enough portion. Flour, brown in groundnut oil and put to one side.
Next fry some pancetta till golden, and reserve that too. Add a fine dice of onion, mushroom, celery and garlic to the pan, fry til soft and golden, then add large chunks of carrot and halved baby onions, and fry for a further couple of minutes. Then add cider and good stock, bring to the boil and combine all the ingredients in a casserole dish. Cover tightly and put in a pre-heated oven at 120 degrees c. for about three and a half hours.

If you serve it with mash, mashed swede, roast beetroot, and cabbage with bacon, it’ll look like this:

But how does it taste? Bloody good actually, even if I do say so myself! I’d been told it tasted like rabbit, and it sort of did. Definitely gamey but somehow richer than rabbit, which can be a little sweet. And as for portions, despite my fears, half a squirrel is plenty of meat served this way. (it’s a very special bonus if one of your friends turns up with a fantastic looking and tasting bread and butter pudding, thanks Pete)

The only thing is…..what next?

Vicky’s birthday seemed the ideal time to visit …..St John, Fergus Henderson’s house of great repute. There’s nothing flashy about this place really, a whitewashed former warehouse, a bar and tables onthe ground floor and a restaurant on a kind of mezzanine. There’s not a lot to talk about here, so, on with the food (but in the mean time, props to the nice fuzzy haired barman who let me sniff various bottles and told us funny stories) anyway, starters.

Vicky went for the signature dish, roast marrow bone and parsley salad; four chunks of veal shin bone roasted at very high heat served with a salad of parsley, capers and onion with two big slices of posh toast and a pile of grey sea salt – this was just gorgeous, hot, deeply savoury and just gooey enough to mnash onto the bread. I had the only duff note of the meal unfortunately in the deep fried pig skins with dandelion, it’s not as if these fancy scratchings weren’t tasty, quite the opposite, I just fear they hadn’t been cooked long enough as the top was the right amount of crispy, but the lower areas? More like a pork wine gum, in fact it took more than a few minutes to pry it away from my teeth, still tasty mind and I only left one little piece uneaten. On the side of this, we spied the razor clams, and couldn’t resist a couple, and weren’t disappointed, two huge molluscs, swimming in very good oil with a touch of garlic and parsley – fresh and rich at the same time. This was all accompanied by a half bottle of Musacdet sur lie which was tasty, good and fresh, kind of crisp, you know the kind…

Onto the main courses, for which we had a bottle of Irouleguy which made me believe those awful wine critics who describe wines as flinty, I always thought they were talking bollocks, not now, I understod exactly what they meant (we had had a pint each and a gin and tonic each before the restaurant, you can see where this is going can’t you?)

My main was possibly the tenderest flesh it’s ever been my pleasure to eat – three lamb’s tongues, poached and sliced in half, on a bed of salad greens, french beans and a dressing that was full of, but not too full of anchovy, this set off the sweet, melting soft tongue to perfection. really, words can’t fully do justice to how tasty it was. Vicky’s was just as good – sweetbreads – crisp on the outside, almost liquid on the inside, kind of like a savoury truffle, accompanied by shallots and chunks of proper bacon, the sort that’s never been injected with water, hasn’t seen vacuum packs and definitely tasted like it was from ecstatic pigs. Along withthis were some simple chunks of potato, boiled simply so they had a fudgy texture, the perfect accompaniment. We had veggies too, a bowl of potatoes (they looked like anya’s) were plainly presented but cooked well and tatsed almost nutty, and a bowl of runner beans, something which I hated as a kid but here were so tasty you had to keep going back for more.

By this point we were rather full as you ccan imagine, but not too full for pudding of course, so on we went….. We shared two and they were vastly different; an eccles cake that was packed full of rich, black currants was served with a good slice of proper lancashire crumbly cheese (probably Mrs Kirkham’s) and the two scoops of honeycomb ice cream were rich, sweet and full of that deep sweet flavour that only good honey could give.

Only drinks could be fitted in after this and so we retired to the bar, where I bought possibly my most expensive two drink round ever – a glass of Armagnac and a glass of Glenkinchie came to fifteen quid (with a cigar) and it just about finished us off, we wearily staggered back to the hotel deeply satisfied and over full, possibly thinking we may have had a little too much to drink. Me not remembering getting back to the hotel and Vicky sleeping in her contact lenses may corroborate this.

not entirely sure who he’s striking agaist, we’ve always known that judges dress like this under their robes haven’t we? ooh, get you!

(There’s a few of these so I’m going to write about them across the month)

There’s something about seeing a big city from a distance that’s really satisfying, not only do you get a sense of the size of the place, you also tend to get a sense of the architecture too, purely from silhouettes.

When I first started visiting London I’d get myself on the bus, down from Chesterfield, along the M1. If you were lucky you’d get to travel on a double decker, if you were *really* lucky, you’d get the front seat. So then, there I am, my first trip down, copy of the NME in my lap. Headphones on, sense of anticipation of visiting places that I’ve only read about (you know, the sorts of places that your parents wouldn’t have taken you – the Powerhaus, the Sir Georoge Robey, that aort of place). I’m casually looking around, aware that we’re somewhere in Hertfordshire, ahead of us I see a big bend, and gradually, as we round it, there’s London, spread out all before us like a huge grey carpet covered in bobbles. My breathe is taken away and my mid races at what fun I’m going to have (in the end I think I saw the Happy Mondays at Wembley, but hey, bear with me here).

On the right there’s this weird tower block with a gap in it (this would be Trellick tower then)there, straight ahead is the Post office tower (I still call it that) and to the left, there are a group of tall buildings struggling upwards through the murk (the city). It’s a truly beautiful sight.

Through the years since I’ve watched the view grow as I’ve arrived in London to visit and to live, I’ve seen Canary Wharf scuttle upwards, the Gherkin’s erection and the rest of Dockland go up at a rate of knots, but every time I go round that bend I remember the first time I saw that view, and everything that London’s given me since.

Let’s hope they keep flying as some of the football has been great. It must be such a burden on a country though, to put such a tournament together, makes you wonder that love of footie apart, why do they host tournaments. In fact, that’s a question that could be asked about a lot of major sporting events, I mean, I doubt if there’s going to be much profit derived from the Athens Olympics. And I know it’s not just about the money, there’s prestige etc, but what price prestige when you’re bankrupt?

I found this on the usually excellent egullet, it seems that the ideal room temperature is a little chillier than the average UK or US house (which is about 22C iirc).

Extended highlights are on Sky every night after games, this one should be watched methinks

So, the Euros finished with a Greek victory. Does this mean that the season has ended? Because if so, tell that to the Hibs players who started their inter-two bob cup campaign this weekend

I like to think that I can cook a bit, you know, I read lots of cookbooks, watcgh plenty of the food channel, can turn my hand to most things and do a decent job. However…. there is one thing that I just, no matter how hard I try/much I prepare, that I can *never* get right. And that’s the bloody stir fry, yes, student staple and every housewives fall back dish. And what’s more I don’t know why. Take last night, all my veggies were the same size and prepared before. The tofu was marinated nicely. Everything seemed spot on….. Until it came to cooking it, started it too early compared to the rice, had it too cold, added too much water and then didn’t have it hot enough to steam the greens. Cue chefly paddy being thrown and a tasteless dish served up.

I’m leaving it to Vicky from now on, and sticking to slow foods

So I happened to be walking past a sports shop in Leafy Uxbridge and noticed the new England football shirts were 25 quid, then I saw the other nation’s were a steep but usual 40 quid. Then though, I saw the England rugby shirts……

75 quid??????? What fresh madness is that? Is it a device to keep out undesirables?

“If I?ve said it once I?ve said it 97 times: there are no bad foods, just bad food habits. If I?m fat (and I?m not saying that I am) it?s not Ronald McDonald?s fault, or ConAgra?s fault or Ben & Jerry?s fault, or my mom?s fault or anyone?s fault but my own. I don?t support lawsuits against fast food any more than I support lawsuits against cigarette companies. Anyone who doesn?t know cigarettes are bad for you is an idiot. Anyone who doesn?t know that eating too much fast food will make you fat?ditto. In fact I think I may organize a class action lawsuit against people who stage lawsuits against corporations who they think should take responsibility for them. Criminy! Most corporations can barely take responsibility for themselves much less others.

If I?m fat it?s because I?ve shoved to many calories down my pie hole. I don?t need to chat with Oprah about it and I sure don?t need to consult that loathsome profiteer ?Dr? Phil. I just need to stop eating so much and exercise more. ”

wise words indeed

Last year Vicky and I visited Moro, often touted as being one of the best restaurants in London for Iberian cuisine and had a fantastic meal with terrible service (see the archives for a report – around August last year) Anyway, last night we were lucky enough to visit a new contender – Fino. Fino is situated just off London’s restaurant strip mall that is Charlotte street, an unassuming entrance leads you underground into a very very pleasant space. A small cocktail bar off to the right, and more steps down to the dining room, tables are nicely spaced (although we reckoned that only one table would give you a really good amount of privacy. Anyway, the food, at Moro we ate traditionally – starter, main, dessert. At Fino we decided to go with the gourmet tapas selection – plenty of small dishes coming as they are ready. In order they were…..

Pamb Tomaquet (not sure of all their spellings to be honest)
Lovely sourdough bread, rubbed with garlic and then a tomato is squashed on – a hearty way to start a meal (and a good work-out for the teeth too)

Selection of Carcuterie
Great chorizo, some salami style sausage and some slices of meltingly good Jamon

Pimientos de Padron
Small peppers (they offer a lottery style thrill in that one in ten are supposed to be firey hot – the rest sweet and mild)chargrilled into softness with plenty of flaky salt sprinkled on – good stuff

Langoustines
These were simply split in half and grilled – very sweet and succulent with a lightly smoky flavour

Clams
Served in a light broth that was enriched with small pieces of ham and onion/garlic – these were sweet and tasty, really really fresh

Crispfried squid
Simple squid rings (and tentacles) in a light batter – all the better for extra salt and a good squeeze of lemon

This we thought was it, and felt slight;y gipped as we were still hungry, but our plates were cleared and so we thought about pudding, but all of a sudden the stars of the meal appeared:

Chorizo with tomato
An unlikely star but wow, it wasn’t because it was the best chorizo I’ve tasted (which it was – sweet and spicy withought getting too sickly as these things can)it was the tomatoes – one bite and I was transferred to my old next door neighbours greenhouse which was full of tomato plants – they were soft, juicy and so flavourful – a real woonder. These and the chorizo combined to make one of the tastiest things I’ve eaten all year.

Veal loin (well we think it was veal – very lightly flavoured and the only thing else it could have been is pork – but it was pink in the middle…)
A lovely bit of meat – slightly pink in the middle and with a crust that had plenty of pimenton in it – thus it was sweet, smoky and intensley savoutry all at the same time.

We had just enough room left for dessert now, and were glad we did – some fresh fried doughnuts with vanilla ice-cream were a gron up kids treat, while the santiago tart, laden with almonds and dried fruit was like having Christmas in the summertime. Capped off with a ridiculously strong Poire William and a great armagnac we left full and satisfied.

The bill wasn’t cheap (bulked out by a very good white Rioja) at over a ton, but the question to be asked is “would I go again?”

I’d go there every day for weeks if I could.

new ice creams for the summer – Yorkie and Toffee crisp from Nestle (that’s pronounced Nessels)

new walkers flavours (limited edition)
greek kebab
Tomato and Basil
feta cheese

An Austrian company is making a chocolate orange liquer

Bottles of Dasani = available for 99p on e-bay, but T-shirts are 45 quid!

The rabbit has been cooked now – he/she got fried and then casseroled in cider, along with lots of carrots and some fennel, onion and red pepper – num num. Fiddly to eat though, the main meat of a rabbit seems to be a barrel of meat right under the rib cage, a chicken like texture but a meatier taste. The juices though – oh my they were great, so savoury.

I understand the horse sausage was like a mild pepperoni, ie it had less of a kick…arf!

well, so far we ain’t doing too well, the veal was lovely, cooked with creme fraice and mushroom. The horse sausage is with it’s true owner – Msr Hopkins and the clams? – they ran out of shelf life last night (pub distracted us) but…….. they are still alive, they were placed in clean (salty) water last night and all opened up and closed when tapped, but dare we eat them?……………

That’s about it, apart from numerous bottles of beer and wine (but no weightwatchers wine – WEIGHTWATCHERS WINE!?!?!?!??!)

Stay tuned for updates, but I sense a Cassoulet coming on.

You fill up my senses
like a gallon of Magnet
like a packet of woodbine
like a good pinch of snuff
like a night out in Sheffield
like a greasy chip butty
Oh Sheffield United
come thrill me again
nah nah nah nah nah nah oooh
nah nah nah nah nah nah oooh oooh

I like it not only because it fits so well, but also because it goes past the single line chant into the full song territory and thus should be applauded. There are others too, which should be recorded here over time.

Another addition to the discussion of Manyoo fans singing “are you England in disguise?” It’s not so long ago that they were chanting “argentina” all over the place in the style oif the Scots vs England, I never quite figured that one out at all.