Another Food Blog

I make a mean steak. So when a friend suggested that he could outdo me I did the only polite thing and invited him around to cook for me. I provided the wine.

As you can see from the photo he did fine job on presentation, and let me assure you it tasted as good as it looks. The marinade was simple, butter, garlic, salt and pepper, while the potatoes had the tried and tested – but no less perfect for it – addition of rosemary.  Immediately after the steaks were cooked, the parboiled sweet stem broccoli was pan-fried in the same pan with more garlic. This was my first taste of this sweet stem variety and it certainly won’t be the last. Very tasty.

Accounting for the difficulty that he had cooking on unknown appliances, I was mightily impressed. I will need to return the favour and I had better be on top form if I am to compete. After all, pride is on the line.

Running low on my staple nightcaps, it was with a mixture of hope and trepidation that I withdrew a bottle of Liqueur de Myrte from the freezer. I need not have worried; the drink is delicious and does not deserve its relative obscurity.

I picked up this bottle in Nice a while back. I imagine it got there from Corsica, which along with Sardinia is where this stuff is mostly made. The blue-black berry used to make the liqueur is from the plant Myrtus communis (Myrtus/Myrtle). The colour of the berry is reflected in the ruby finished product.

The balance between bitter and sweet is remarkable, while the tannins linger, to producing a long finish. With regards to the flavour, it is quite hard to describe, but at a push I would suggest the fruit is somewhere between a blackberry and blueberry, but this description does it little justice.

All in all then, a great find. Sometimes too much drink is barely enough!

On a recent trip to Koba, an excellent Korean restaurant in Bloomsbury, I tried an alcohol that had previously never passed my lips. Soju is a clear alcohol of around 20% ABV made, on this occasion, from sweet potatoes.

At first sight and taste, one could think it to be vodka. Served in shot glasses, it is clear, crisp and like vodka lacking in flavour. After reflection though, it is slightly sweeter than voska, arguably drier, with possibly a faint aftertaste of vanilla.

On my next visit, it is unlikely I’ll order it again – much better to opt for some plum wine – but I am keen to get hold of a bottle or two. Soju, I am certain, would make an excellent base for less alcoholic Martini than vodka or gin. Google tells me I’m not first to come up with this idea.

The mojito has become something of a cliché in the cocktail world. Its condemnation is the epitome of petty snobbishness, stemming principally from its popularity as opposed to the quality of the concoction. Although not a favourite of mine, it is worth drinking just to parry this jejune opinion and is a joy to drink with those in blissful ignorance of the mindless idiocy of cocktail etiquette.

Although the mojito tastes best with crushed ice, I have been known to shake the drink at home, as I have yet to invest in a machine that crushes ice for me. This has proved successful, although they can often taste a little too diluted from the process of shaking.

But shaking would not do on this occasion as I had upwards of ten people visiting, and was not keen on spending the night shaking cocktails. As such, I put my electric blender to the test and it passed with remarkable aplomb. However, all did not go perfectly. Instead of my usual Havana 3 year, all I could find in my badly stocked local liqueur store was Havana Añejo Especial. Very nice rum by all accounts, but it proved too overpowering for the mojito in my opinion.

Sadly the rum upset the balance of the drink, so a vast portion of my evening was spent in experimentation, trying to establish that intricate balance between rum, sugar, lime and mint that should make the drink a pleasure to drink. After more than a few disasters, I just about succeeded, but by this time I had been defeated and decided to opt for the simple pleasure of half a dozen ice-cold beers. It might be time to invest in a crushed ice maker…

In these summer days there is little better than a Julep to cool off with in the afternoon. The classic is a Mint Julep, a drink with serious heritage would be the obvious choice and one I decided to go for on this occasion. Although it is recommended to drunk out of a silver or pewter julep cup, don’t let the lack of it hold you back.

It is a simple combination of mint, sugar syrup and bourbon. The result of this cocktail rests largely on avoiding some common mistakes in its preparation. Firstly, a lot of cocktails call for a certain amount of muddling and from many sources you will be instructed to do so with this drink. However, don’t. A decent handful of mint leaves should simply be gently rubbed or clapped between the hands to release its potential. Anything more and the bitterness contained in the mint will be released. Now add 15ml of sugar solution and 75ml of bourbon.

Following this add cracked ice. This can be made by taking a heavy object wrapped in a tea-towel to ice cubes. Stir, stir and stir some more. Like the Old fashioned, if you do not take the time to stir the result will be compromised. Once it has reduced, add some more ice stir again and garninsh with a mint sprig and a straw.

It was impossible to spend a week in Budapest without at least sampling some of the local alcoholic eccentricities, which is what led to a number of encounters with the unique spirit, Unicum. Although Unicum can be drank as an apéritif, on this occasion I drunk it as a digestif and would in fact recommend doing so to anyone new to the tipple. It is hard to see how this drink could set your palate up well for any meal (even in paprika obsessed Hungary).

There are probably good arguments for drinking it at room temperature and given the right occasion it could also be drunk as a shooter, however on this occasion it was drunk ice-cold from the freezer and sipped at a suitably leisurely pace. A secret concoction of over forty herbs with a history as rich as that of the country, Unicum is not for the timid and has echoes of the infamous Jägermeister. However, it is also a good deal better than its German challenger.

If this description is enough to put you off, then as a compromise perhaps try the Unicum Next, a weaker, fruitier and less bitter version of the original. Both are a great way into the wonderful world of bitter spirits and cocktails.

The martini is both one of the easiest and hardest cocktails to make. Gin or Vodka, lemon peel or olive, shaken or stirred; it is all rather easy. In fact, these questions turn out to be even easier than at first glance, as you should never shake a martini and should in time come to prefer on most occasions a gin to a vodka martini.

There are many reasons I have heard as to why a martini should not be shaken, including unwanted dilution, air bubbles cutting through the cleanness of the spirit and cloudiness distorting the aesthetics. Whatever the actual reason, despite the insistence of Mr Bond, a martini must always be stirred.

For a neophyte, the clean and uncomplicated taste of vodka is usually the preferred option; however, in my experience, in time and with enough persuasion most will be convinced of the superiority of the gin martini: the complexity of gin wins out in the end. The choice between the lemon peel and olive is mostly open to personal taste.

Another thing that Flemming’s creation got wrong was having his Martini dry. Although it is not entirely unpleasant to have an ice-cold glass of vodka or gin with a hint of dry vermouth, much better is to encourage the interplay of gin and vermouth, as such I favour a ratio of 3:1 gin to vermouth. Also, worth trying is the addition of a couple of dashes of orange bitters: the near-ubiquitous missing ingredient in the creation of the true classic.