Best Of:

No, I am not writing a post to compile a list of my own favourite posts, that would be incredibly conceited and pretentious of such an amateur outfit.

So without further ado..





*Ahem*

Anyway, no, I was wondering, in the perpetual state of gastronomic infatuation I find myself in, just some of the best and diverse dishes I have ever sampled, ever, that I can still remember of, no matter how mundane - tastes that remain distinct for their intensity, or just experience. And I figured I should compile it, if only to serve as back-up for my relentlessly poor memory, and as means to keep on - at least mentally - savouring the past event. For the sake of keeping the list within the confines of infinity, I will forego the meals sampled within the home. So, without further ado, again:

- Best Tiramisú;
This was in a restaurant in Paestum, in the Campagna Region of Italy, near Salerno - details are sparse as this was a rather distant 10+ years ago, yet, I still remember the immense delight I found in that Tiramisú, down to its appearance. Served in a glass, it was more of the creamy-parfait type rather than a thick lady-finger slice, but I distinctly remember the perfectly light yet rich creaminess of the dessert, highlighted by little notes of chocolate with some chocolate chips. It was intense. If I had hit puberty by then, it would've been a mess.

- Interesting Regional Speciality - Panigacci;
Basically an Italian "Chapati" of sorts from the Liguria region, though I shudder to call it that, this flatbread is unique in that an entire 10 or so course meal is entirely based on this flatbread. Mindless indulgence?! Ofcourse, it's Italian! However, also perfect of sense! In order of topping, this bread perfectly suited the cured meats, stracchino cheese, pesto, and Nutella toppings to create a diverse meal. Of Bread.

- Best Glass of Orange Juice;

Paris, Charles-de-Gaulles Airport, Spring 2000. I remember it vividly, it actually blew my mind. Que? Orange Juice?! Ya, rly! And it was on the bottom floor using one of those presser machines, peel and all, and it was delectable - very crisp, and a distinct highlight from the bitter peel. Lovely

- Best Ice Cream:

Royal Jelly, together with Tiramisú flavour, sampled at Sarzana in the summer of 2008. Wow, the Royal Jelly Ice Cream was, wow. My life. It needs it. As far as explanation goes, I cannot put "Drooling" into words, so that should do.

- Most Memorable Lamb Dish:

First sampled in 2006 I think, I think maybe even way back in the Mid-90's as well, though I don't remember much from then, but essentially on camping journeys in Saudi Arabia, typically around New Years, it has now become customary to do a traditional Arab/Bedouin style of cooking of lamb that entails stuffing a lamb leg or shoulder, and cooking it for several hours. Underground. What comes out is delightfully fragrant, actually melts in the mouth, and is just exquisite. It may even be Kharoof Mahsin, which is one of my "To Try's".

- Most Memorable Childhood Nom Moments - Pizza:
Note, this is the most memorable pizza, not necessarily the best. Especially not the best, as it's in Saudi. And was in a fairground. However, despite it shutting down in the early 1990's, I can still remember the look, and even the TASTE of the Pizza Al-Azizza [I think that's what it was called] deliciousness. I just remember an unbelievable amount of cheese/hardened arteries, and. Well. That's it. I was in single-digit age then. It was however, immense. And cheesy. Very cheesy.


Cheese is good. 


Then they replaced it with a Burger King. Now that whole complex has been torn down for office blocks. :'(

- Most Memorable Childhood Nom Moments - Roasted Peanuts:

I'm not talking of your run of the mill KP Tin Peanuts. As disgustingly addictive as they are [I once finished a full tin of Honey Roasted Peanuts. In a day. I think I died], I am talking of the natural pan roasted ones with salt. Oh hooray, I crave a bar snack. Yes, not quite so rudimentary though. Well, actually yes. For I remember sampling these peanuts from when I was a mere child in the Old City Market of Old Jeddah, roasted on street corners on top of giant tin pots. More than anything, its the smell that brings me back to my childhood days, whenever I see the vendors around, and so it remains a constant reminder.


That, and To this day I still occasionally pine for them, whenever I have the courage to stray into the ghetto/eat such highly calorific nuts, so its not like its a forgotten taste.

Yes. I am a girl. 

NB: I will gradually keep adding more as of when my sporadic memory has fits of recollection

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[Restaurant - Eritrean] Hand's-off, MAI Zigni! MINE!; Mosob of Maida Vale

Location - Maida Vale, London [UK]

Torture; the forcing of actions on an individual against their will to inflict as much physical and/or psychological damage in order to obtain a certain goal. Suffice to say, I applied a lot of said torture in my incessant obsession for Zigni of late, and after tonight, I can certainly say. It was worth it. Nevermind the sobbing shells of my friend's former selves that resulted. I. Got. My. Zigni.

All is now right with the world. That is all.

It is actually very difficult to remember where my actual obsession with Zigni started out - I think it was last summer where when in Saudi Arabia I had Zigni for leftovers for lunch, made by a Colleague of my Father's, who is Ethiopian, and at once, I was dumbstruck. I was literally left in a state of clinical, brain-dead, Zigni-induced Coma. It was, amazing. Oh, I guess that wasn't so hard then. However, that was not enough, and on returning to England, I forget how the obsession was reignited, but I vaguely remember Googling something, and finding the results for Injera, and on reading on I had one of those peculiar moments where I was adamant that I could recall the taste of the food. It was very strange as I could not for the life of me remember WHERE I tasted it, but I know I had had it, and what it tasted of. Suffice to say, there would only be one way to satiate this - if I could recall a taste by simple reading of a name, it would haunt me till I were to replace half my bodyweight with said food item.

I can safely say that the above was perhaps a motivating factor for the entire notion of wanting to travel the world and try out new ways of creating myself epic constipation through excessive face-stuffing - mind you, I always loved to eat, but just remembering the epicity [Copyright, mine] of Injera and Zigni, made me sought to find such an outlet in the UK, to at least tide me over till I returned to Saudi Arabia. And save me from the fatal mediocrity of Edgware Road. Surprisingly, Zigni seems to be a fairly recognisable dish here, perhaps glorified by the idiotic, Covent Garden-trolling "Trendy" Hippy ethnic-loving students like the ones sat next to us last night, and as such, it was not hard to find an outlet. What was difficult was finding one in a Reasonable area [i.e. as Huzaifah will concur, above the River] - my only motivating factor for Mosob was that it had garnered largely unanimous reviews from the likes of UrbanSpoon and London Eating, as well as...well. The website was pretty. I had initially wanted to go to Zigni House, but that was a bit too far East. We are a very open-minded group you see - we concentrate outings above the river, more towards the West. Blatently because, err. We have ample valid reasoning for such.

*Cough*

So, outing organised, frantic over excited booking made ["I'm Italian, I love Zigni! I lived in Saudi, we can take our spices, don't hold back!], reasonable group invited, done. The group consisted of myself, Huzaifah - who's father was born in Asmara, and who frequently has Zigni at home, my Sister - who ate the Zigni from which I had the leftovers in Saudi, Vera - a family friend who is so enamoured with Zigni, that she has legally included it as her middle name [Not really, but until last week, I had actually believed such was the case], and her friend. Who was a vegetarian. And therefore, a blasphemer. Unfortunately, I was not able to relegate her to a desolate corner, or to voice this opinion.

On arriving at the venue, pleasant, superficial surprises abound - Huzaifah's fear of straying into "the Ghetto" were suitably cast aside when we walked into a cosy, unpretentious outlet [the website led me to believe we'd be met with TGI Eritrea Dungarees], with plenty of locals sitting around. My over zealous booking obviously rang a note with the restaurant as I was greeted as "The Zigni Man". After an hour waiting for the remaining guests, our patience/resolve had disappeared, and so me and Huzaifah dived straight in...quite literally...

~ Starter ~
- Qategna

...That's what waiting for an hour will do. I had finished my Qategna rolls before remembering to take a picture. Which took around 0.54ms. I devoured them. And. Epinoms. I chose Qategna for one reason. Well. Other than the fact that it was spicy, and deep-fried. in Ghee. I chose it because it is almost pronounced the same as my surname. Destiny? You try convincing me otherwise. You'll end up like them.

Immediately, the taste of Injera was met with a matching of the taste I could remember - whilst by no means a light dish, it was absolutely delectable; the sourness of the Injera worked with the Harissa-ish spices to create an awesome amalgamation of flavours. Whilst not spicy enough for me, adding some Awaze spice dip only added to this. It was over so quickly. I needed moar. MOAR. And we should have as we waited ANOTHER hour before the others had arrived. I don't think me and Huzaifah could have shown more restraint to be brutally Honest. I would've deep fried my arm in Ghee..

~ Main Course ~
- Mixed Platter [Zigni, Derho Qulwa, Bamia Mis Siga, Hamli Mis Ajibo, Mosob Special]

Whilst I was ready to consume my weight in Zigni, mainly due to the one hour we were forced to wait after starters for the remainder of the party to arrive, I was assured that there would be enough Zigni if we shared a platter to at least feed a developing African nation, and hopefully satiate me as well. It had better.

I was not disappointed.

Again, I almost struggled to maintain restraint, nearly eating the camera in a flurry to take a picture before the platter was consumed. This was, a platter of which no greatness of such calibre had ever met before. It was the "Expendables" of wins, you know, in promise, without being a complete failure. Like the film. The Zigni was delicious, though, I think the reams written in the introduction would somewhat serve to set a tone on my ability to leave bias out of a review - however, spices were distinct, and supporting in flavours, rather than overpowering, leaving the meat to shine through. Difficulty was met in the lack of cutlery - the injera bread is essentially an Eritrean Pocket Knife of dining, for not only is it a bread, but it also doubles up as cutlery. Ok, a two trick pony. However, as my experience at Mirch Massala made obvious, I'm somewhat lambasted for wanting cutlery, as, you know, that's so wrong. Though. Attempting to keep everyone's hands off without getting mine on would have proved counter productive in its irony, hence the title. Perhaps I should have licked my hands and plastered them all over the Zigni. Hmm.

Anyway, the rest of the platter was equally amazing - the lentils extraordinarily so, being incredibly hearty and buttery, which were served with the Lamb Chops and equally buttery smooth/flavoured Spinach [Mosob Special]. The lamb chops, wow, they looked like charcoal briquettes but tasted amazing, with a slightly sweet tinge to the flavour. The Chicken [Derho Qulwa] and Okra Stew [Bamia Mis Siga] were also delectable, the Okra stew especially so, combining some earthy flavours with the sharpness of the Okra. If there were one qualm however it was for a slightly shattered expectation, brought on from my rather forthcoming announcement on the phone - nothing was especially spicy for me, despite having rattled off my Saudi Arabian upbringing. Others didn't agree but they're infedels to spice.

~ Dessert ~
- Bigusto Nonna

Obviously, with the sheer quantity of epicity [Again, Copyright] experienced until now, something had to fall clear of the standard, for otherwise the universe would implode from the intense unbalancing of the forces of nature. And as such, this balance was redistributed by the mediocrity of the pre-packaged dessert. Huzaifah's Tiramisu' was an Ice-cream and my pie obviously came in a box - the only highlight were the toasted pine nuts which gave a satisfying crunch, otherwise, it only served to provide a pallet cleansing sweet note. And thus. Forgiven.

Actually, not quite. Well, it wasn't terrible, though on next visit I would probably do without.

~ Drinks ~
- Miés [Eritrean Honey Wine]

Another intriguing indigenous part of the Zigni experience was apparently the combination of the Eritrean/Ethiopian Honey Wine, which I thought I must try. It was described to have a slight bitterness to taste with the inherent sweetness that served to freshen the spice of the food yet not weigh down. Unfortunately, the amount you see above was all that was left, or maybe there was more left but I ignorantly asked for "Tej" only to be corrected that the Eritreans called it "Mies", and so I was punished for this transgression. And it could not be fully enjoyed with the food as I had to wait two and a half hours before it arrived with the arrival of the guests.

What was of note though was that it was a very interesting drink - bittersweet, yet a strange absence of after-taste. Quite palette cleansing. Though why anyone would want to cleanse their palette of heavenly Zigni, I do not know. Hell. Dip me in Berbere and I will GLADLY smell of Zigni for the rest of my days too. Or until I eat myself.

- Bunne

Considering it was nearing the 4th hour of our dining experience, I was a bit tentative about going through a "Ceremony" for my coffee, but I insisted. I need not have worried again, for using the word Ceremony is probably a bit overwrought.

It is probably something aimed more at newcomers, or those idiot students. It's basically just drinking coffee in Arabic-style finjals, combined with popcorn and the ambience set with the incense, but having already been there for a few millennia it probably didn't suit, especially as only 3 of us had the coffee. Correction, two people had a couple of cups each, and I had the remaining gallon. Not too much heartache I suppose - I needed some means of dissolving the Zigni-flavoured awesomeness in my belly, and something to keep me awake on the 80mi return journey home. So perse', the ceremony was wasted on us, as if the entire ordeal were to take place within 4 hours it would have been fine, but adding another 2 hours for coffee as would probably would have suited, was not in the cards. Not when we arrived at 7:30 and it was already 11:30.

The coffee by the way was excellent - not as strong or as bitter as an Italian Roast espresso, but very smooth to drink, a lovely coffee. Shame we couldn't enjoy it to its intent for the aforementioned reasoning - Huzaifah probably held back as espresso tends to have the uncanny ability of liquidating his bowel movements in the blink of an eye, quite an astounding phenomena.

~~~~

Overall, the experience was tempered with awesomeness, more awesomeness, and wins of epic proportions. And I could keep adding internet-geek 'leet speak but it wouldn't adequately convey the awesomeness. Whilst service was a bit slow - obviously, us making a 19:30 Appointment, and having guests arrive upto 2 hours late perhaps did not necessitate a brevity of response - it was almost as amazing as the food. All it needed was to be deep-fried in Ghee.

At once we were almost involved as regulars, as if we were trying to be made to feel as part of "the family", as cheesy as it sounds - perhaps something those infernal students convinced themselves of - with the waiters explaining their origins, showing us books of Asmara, and introducing us some interactive games to stave off our hunger/boredom whilst waiting for the guests. Granted, I/we did feel heart-broken when the same treatment was reserved for all the other customers, but I guess love must be shared. Hmph. And this is nothing to say of the food - it all added to an amazing experience.

I'm only talking about the food here, that was the core of my life-affirming event, but the rest was nice too. Drawing from the title, not only was, and Eritrean dining is, a hand's on experience, short of elbowing everyone in the jaw and running away with the platter, I was forced to scream out the title influence in my head for it was hard to keep hand's off. I need not have worried yet again though, as the torture is due to begin all over, as I very much doubt I will be able to restrain myself when it comes to annihilating the leftovers for lunch.

If you hear an explosion from the South Greater London Area, with a resultant spicy aroma and shards of injera flying everywhere, you'll know the score.

[I has no shame]

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[Restaurant - Italian] Daphnetely Meh; Daphne's of South Kensington

Location - South Kensington, London [UK]

Oh dear, it would seem as with my other blogs, I sometimes endeavour [Yes, it is an actual accomplishment!] too hard with creating a unique title, ending up with a rather contrived result. Which is essentially how I would describe the aforementioned restaurant in a nutshell. Hmm, that about works! Win! I hope this would set a subtle tone for the experience, though let it be said that it was not terrible.

Rather, fitting for the location I would think. There is no real story of how we came to dine here - I just came into town with Huzaifah and the place was pre-booked by our Chelsea Apartment living Russian Friend. Hint. Stereotypes. Me? Never ^-^. One thing that struck me immediately though, was that my rather inept brain couldn't quite come to terms with a rather trivial fact - an Italian restaurant, called Dafini? Delfini??

Then the taxi pulls up - DAPHNE'S?! Erm, whut? Hmm. Prejudicial mode on.

~ Starter ~
- Insalata di Barbabietola e Caprino

Spurred by my exceedingly daring streak and want, no, NEED to try out dishes of a different slant, I pined for the aforementioned, which in this case, was a Beetroot and Goat's Cheese salad. Heavens! Essentially, I have never eaten Beetroot, and I love Goat's Cheese. Hitherto, my two main motivating factors. That, and it would make me feel less guilty about the inevitable dessert.

I know, living on the edge. And. Well, my inner Bear Gryll's died a little. And in a future foretold, you will see a similar response shortly. It would seem the Beetroot was poached of all flavour, almost in its entirety, as was what I presumed to be slices of papaya..well, it had the look and consistency of papaya at least. The goat's cheese however was plentiful and delicious - the sharp, tangy nature of the "crust" soon gave way to a lovely creamy cheese and all was forgotten. Again, as said of a previous Goat's cheese salad I sampled, I would have happily been contented with just a big slab of goat's cheese, but perhaps to expect so was disingenuous. Other than the lack of depth from the Beetroot, the sour leaves were not to my liking, but combined very well with the cheese, and the dressing was well suited - sweet, yet not overtly so, and very light.

A liked salad, mainly for the cheese though.


~ Main Course ~
- Spalla d'Agnello con Lenticchie, Cotechino e Cavolo

Already from the title you can tell the sheer sophistication of this dish, the depth of intricate flavours. No? Actually, no, this is a simple Venetian [I think] dish, commonly consumed on New Year's Eve, composed of Roast lamb, lentils, boiled pig's foot meat, and in this case served with some wilted greens. See, sophisticated!

Actually, I chose this as, well, it was the most interesting thing available, and something I've never had in a restaurant [but have had essentially every New Year's, minus the lamb]. And. Well. You shouldn't be surprised by the forthcoming description, as it was foretold. These semantics help me with the stresses of boredom. And essentially that's what this dish was. Boring. It was well presented, naturally, however, maybe disingenuously yet again, I was surprised by the proportioning of quantities - a huge serving of lamb [good!], but, a meagre splash of lentils [there goes hopes of digesting the meat], and, where's the Cotechino!? I ordered this FOR the cotechino! Oh, wait, there's a little pinkish cube. And another. And that's it. Not. Impressed. BAH! Mind you, it is a specialist meat, and maybe I shouldn't expect the hockey puck-sized discs usually served at home. Imagine the reactions restaurants would get though if they breeched expectations!

Otherwise, this was a very forgettable dish - there were too small a smattering of lentils to add to the meatiness of the lamb, there was too little cotechino to flavour the lentils. As for the lamb, it was quite. Dry. For it to be roasted? I had to double check. I mean that dry as in almost crisp - inside it wasn't spectacularly moist, but it wasn't carbonised. However, with a dearth of residual moisture in the dish, it left an essentially single-track dish, a bit rudimentary. Disappointing. Good quality lentils though - in Italy the size of the lentils are essentially related to quality, the smaller being the most revered, and these were tiny. However as previously mentioned, the execution probably didn't serve them to their potential.

~ Dessert ~
- Torta allo Zenzero Speziata con Mascarpone

That's Ginger Cake with Mascarpone, heathens, learn some Italian! It is also, the saving grace. Far too much religious terminology, but mascarpone this rich certainly cannot be anything other than divine!

Ok, I'll stop with this overwrought description now, for I fear the hand of..

Bah! It was epic. Reasoning for the choice is that it is something I wouldn't usually go for, surrounded by the usual Tiramisu's and Pannacotta's and....Crumble. And as such, it was a conventional grainy cake, pardon my complete lack of knowledge, and delightfully moist at that. The hint of spice permeating was delectable as well, which suited perfectly the richness of the mascorpone, at once giving it a highlight, and combining with the sweetness of the cake. I was actually struggling to pace myself and may have eaten part of the dessert spoon. No matter. Another unexpected delight was how well I paired the dessert wine!

[No, I'm not leaving you hanging, but for the sake of categorising, my extraordinary wine selection effort is relegated below ^_^]

~ Drinks ~
- Vin Santo Dessert Wine

The Vin Santo, I know is a well renowned dessert wine in Italy, Tuscany region. And. Not much else. And I don't pretend to know much else about its preferred combinations. However, something told me, almost beckoned me to convince myself it would suit a "Spice" cake well.

When it arrived, replete with a plate of cantuccini sweets, I figured I could be onto something. Something struck me as familiar but I am largely ignorant and had no idea how the wine/biscuits were to be combined, but combine they did. Well. A very rich wine, quite honeyed, which when paired with the almond biscuit just lightened up. This effect was exemplified when combined with the ginger cake, what with its spicy note, combining to great effect. I have no idea what I have just attempted to describe, but I somehow understand the Aramaic ramblings, or rather the motive for such gloriously elaborate descriptions, of appreciators of spirits, wines and so on!

~~~~

Overall it was a mixed but sedate experience, not combining any real expectations with any particular disappointment. Especially as any Italian "Daphne's" would probably be found on the Border with France. Probably more so in France. The service was quite slow, and obviously appalled with my spoken Italian. Despite being Italian. I know, I should be ashamed.

For what my narrow-mind can fathom, this was a restaurant that perhaps combined itself with a smattering of pretension considering the area it is in; nothing in the menu was particularly creative, traditional - or rather, regional - and in execution, I was left wanting more. Other than the Dessert, though as I've made it plenty clear in other posts, I find it hard to criticise desserts. Though that remains to be seen when I try out an infamous South-East Asian Red Bean Paste-based Dessert. Mmm. Delectable.

Even dishes which perhaps sound eccentric, such as Pappardelle with Wild Boar Ragu' seem to be becoming a tad de rigeur of late with Italian Eateries, as an aforementioned trip to Chiswick and the observing for 5-6 nearly identical French Eatery menu's revealed similar trends for the French. In the end, perhaps I feel this restaurant has to project a certain class and execution to its food to cater for a certain clientelle - evidenced by the fact we were by and large so underdressed as to be naked in relative comparison - and I perhaps keep getting self-facepalmed by the disingenuous notion that I expect farmer food to taste like farmer food, despite the location. If you're counting, that's the nth time I said disingenuous. And disingenuous again. Pumpkin Smile Tangerine [?].

Bah.

Dessert made me happy though, so, that obviously means I wub Daphne. Just for desserts. And the Vin Santo. And Dessert again.

That is all.

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