toad in the hole + spawn

November is all about #toadlife.

Jus' chillin', preferably on a fat boy, in front of a toasty fire, with hot tasty food, ideally washed down with something boozy and lightly spiced. I love the run up to Christmas, when comfort food can be guzzled down with wild abandon as we relish the first proper bite of winter. In January the guilt starts to creep in and Banuary bitches like to wag fingers and remind you of the millions of calories you've consumed in the preceding two months. Now, however, it's more than acceptable to start cooking up all those warming hearty dishes that light up the dark chilly evenings.

In honour of all things toad like, what better dish to try out on a wintry evening than a big ol' toad int' hole. I'm not usually a huge sausage fan, but enveloped snugly in billowy battery freshly made Yorkshire pud... Well, I'm all over it. Paired with a rich onion gravy and some roasted carrots, kale and broccoli for the health factor, this was a satisfying supper and a half. And pretty easy to make with hardly any ingredients required. Just buy some posh sausages and you'll probably have the rest of the ingredients at home. You could even sack off the Sunday roast and serve this up instead - you might get some complaints at first, but once everyone gets their helpings it'll be froggy fun all round, mark my words.

If Q4 is mainly about upping the eating ante, then of course there is always room for just desserts and with toads comes... erm... spawn?! As a child rice pudding was one of my favourite ever afters, preferably dished up with some of the lovely caramelised skin on top and a grate of nutmeg. So it was with this in mind that I cooked up a decadent version with cinnamon and double cream, the perfect sweet treat to round off a serious supper. Some slow stewed apples or plums would make a fantastic fruity accompaniment to your toad spawn, or you could go old school with a big fat jam whale swimming on top.

For go-to tried and tested recipes, Felicity Cloake is the mama. And it was with joy that I found she had wise words to offer on both toads and spawn, suggesting boozy additions of both ale to the batter and sherry to the pud. However, if you prefer your alcohol in your glass then the below recipes should serve you well. Both feed 4 comfortably.

Dive in...

Toad in the Hole + onion gravy

100g plain flour

½ tsp English mustard powder

1 egg

300ml milk

8 pork sausages

2 tbsp sunflower oil

2 onions, peeled and sliced

1 tsp soft brown sugar

500ml beef stock

1. Make the batter: Heat oven to 220C/fan 200C/gas 7. Tip flour into the large mixing bowl and stir in the mustard powder with a good pinch of salt. Make a well in the centre, crack in the egg, then pour in a dribble of milk. Stir with a wooden spoon, gradually incorporating some of the flour, until you have a smooth batter in the well. Now add a bit more milk and continue stirring until all the milk and flour has been mixed together.
2. The batter is ready: You should now have a smooth, lump-free batter that is the consistency of double cream. Roast sausages in the oven, in an oiled roasting tray, for 15 mins.
3. Cook the batter: Take the hot tray from the oven, then quickly pour in the batter – it should sizzle and bubble a little when it first hits the hot fat. Put it back into the oven, then bake for 40 mins until the batter is cooked through, well risen and crisp. If you poke the tip of a knife into the batter in the middle of the tray it should be set, not sticky or runny.
4. Make the gravy: Soften the onions with the remaining oil in a large nonstick frying pan for about 20 mins, stirring often, until they are golden brown. Sprinkle in the sugar for the final 5 mins. Add the spoonful of flour, then cook, constantly stirring, for 2 mins, so it coats the onions and there is no dry flour left. Gradually pour in the stock, stirring well to make a smooth sauce. Bubble for 4-5 mins to thicken, then season. Cut the toad in the hole into large wedges and serve with the gravy spooned over.

Toad Spawn

 

50g butter

50g soft light brown sugar

100g pudding rice

1 litre full-cream milk

Zest of ½ a lemon

Bay leaf

¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg

¼ tsp cinnamon

150ml double cream

1. Pre-heat the oven to 140C. Put the butter in a large saucepan over a gentle heat, and, when melted, add the sugar. Stir and cook for a few minutes, then tip in the rice, and stir to coat. Cook until the rice has swelled slightly, stirring continuously, then add the milk and stir well to dislodge any clumps of rice and sugar on the bottom of the pan.
2. Add the lemon zest, bay leaf, spices and a pinch of salt, then pour in the cream and bring to simmer. Pour into a greased ovenproof dish.
3. Bake the pudding in the oven for about 2 hours (or an hour if putting it straight into the same hot oven you just cooked your toad in!), until it has set, but is still slightly wobbly. Devour.

 

flesh & buns

Hot, sticky flesh. Pillowy soft buns. Deep dark basement. Orgasmic faces...

In the words of the Essex lot - #NAWTY.

And that's exactly how I felt after being utterly seduced by the brilliant Flesh and Buns in Covent Garden. Nawty. But nice.

 

 

Tucked downstairs in a cosy basement space on Earlham Street, opposite Belgo's and round t'corner from Urban Outfitters, it's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it den of deliciousness. The offspring of ramen joint Bone Daddies, I knew I was likely in for decent Japanese fodder at F&B's. And having sampled the yumminess of the small but on point Yum Bun, I also knew I liked BUN. (For those of you not aware of the delights of BUN, where have you been?) Oblong shaped soft steamed buns, which you can fill with meat, fish, veg and sticky sauce and stuff in your gob in an Asian inspired kind of fluffy doughy taco. Messy but satisfying. So I was more than happy to be handed a menu that was chock full of yummy bun fillings along with a fantastic array of other dishes. The fact I found it hard to choose, when usually I'm hard nosed and ruthless, is testament to the great range on offer - as well as the ubiquitous buns, there's other types of ceviche, tempura and sushi type tastiness. Everything is for sharing, with the main, more expensive 'flesh' courses enough for two to three people, and the menu suggesting two buns (£2) per person. We found two starters and two main dishes more than enough for the three of us.

 

While we waited for our main course to arrive we nibbled on 'chips and dips', crisp rice crackers with avocado shiso and tomato jalapeno dips, Japanese versions of guacamole and salsa. We also played chopstick fights over crisp fried squid chilli spiked with pepper and lime.

squidz

Then the buns arrived, fat and friendly in their steamer tower, along with perfectly cooked fillets of salmon teriyaki with pickled cucumber and a juicy crispy duck leg with sour plum soy sauce and beetroot pickle. Shredded succulent flesh, with crisp salad, crammed into buns and washed down with warm sake. Comfort food at it's best. 

quack

 

fishy

 

we bun tings

We were all set to leave, when the table next to us were presented with a flaming fire pit. Like moths to a flame, all eyes were on the fyah. The waitress informed us that this was the S'mores dessert - big rectangular marshmallows on sticks (one each), with thin slices of green tea chocolate and buttery biscuits. Those who know me, know of my love affair with the Barrica choc ice. Well this is the choc ice's dirty cousin. OF COURSE WE WANTED IT! Salivating, we waited. And it did not disappoint. Mallows toasted over the fire, then sandwiched inbetween choc and biccie to make the most utterly sinful, gooey gorgeous dessert sandwich. A real treat to round off a superb dins.

the good stuff

Service was friendly, prices reasonable, and on the printed bill they even handily split the price for you between the number in your group, making it easy to pay and away; rolling like happy fat buns off into the wilds of the city. Flesh and Buns is up there as my favourite meal of the year thus far. Quality cooking, and fun to boot. Just make sure you book. And leave enough room for those heavenly S'mores...

 

For more Japanese amazingness I can recommend Suzu in Hammersmith and Brilliant Corners in Dalston. Neither do steamed buns, but the former does great sushi classes and the latter does decent tunes and mezcal. Konichiwaaa.

phwoar

coppa, london fields

As London's skyline get higher, and evenings stretch longer, summertime rooftop drinking and eating has never tasted so damn GOOD. There's a plethora of places to pick from in the big smoke, from Netil House's glorious 360 roof terrace in Hackney to the refined insouciance of Boundary in Shoreditch to Kensington's tropical luxe Roof Gardens.

Coppa Bar & Rosticceria, nestled on high between the London Fields railway line and the fields themselves, is a little big gem with a mahoosive sparkle, that definitely deserves winkling out ASAP. Open Thursday - Sunday, serving a mixture of Italian charcuterie, meat, salads, cocktails and wine, it's the ideal locale for a long boozy sunset supper. (It's also got a canopy for any pesky showers that may threaten to rain on your parade).

With a mixture of long bench tables spread with red and white checked tablecloths, and cute intimate beach style huts to sit in, coloured fairy lights twinkle overhead as hungry Hackneyites laugh, jape and chow down on strong Italo BBQ cookery...

Summer nights call for summer punch and we set the pace with some bang tidy fruity Amaro Mule cocktails (Melletti Amaro, ginger beer, lime). The Rosemary Julep and Stella Spritz didn't go down quite so well with my companions, being a bit punchy for our tastes, so we ordered in a bottle of chilled red to go with our feast.

And what a feast it was! Opting for the set menu at a very reasonable £25 a head, the courses just kept on comin'... Here's a tip - arrive hungry.

Kicking off with a beautiful mix of pillowy chewy ciabatta, toasted almonds, plump juicy green olives, creamy buffalo mozarella, thick cloudy quality olive oil and thinly sliced meats with pickled samphire, it's fair to say we guzzled that antipasti like nobody's business. 

When the tender BBQ chicken (roasted in Nduja and Rosemary & Lemon) turned up we had to slow the pace, and do our best to do justice to the meat and the four generous, fresh and zesty salads which came with: grilled radicchio, fennel and orange, potato and bean and panzanella. There were even patatine fritte, or salty fries, with ketchup & mayo to go with - an essential in my book.

A zingy little pot of lemon sorbet at the end of the meal was an unexpected but welcome surprise. And as we all know, there's always room for dessert.

Although the end bill was higher than we intended (our fault - those cocktails) the amount of lush food for dollar and good vibes atop that roof was well worth it. We were stuffed like pigs by the end, but the cooking is clean, tasty and healthy - which means you can drink more, right? And you could always come for balmy evening boozing, with a smattering of snacks to go with, rather than the veritable banquet we opted for.

You can't book unless you're a group of six or more - but as long as you arrive early you should be just fine. Or do what we did and book a table for 6, then turn up with 3...naughty.

With just the right mix of charm, cool and credible cooking, Coppa feel of some Italian rooftop action quick smart before the cumulonimbus inevitably come rolling back over...