OAP… bollocks. Even Juno would have recognised that the recent letter indicating eligibility for a State Pension was sent to the wrong address. In her estimation, her servant might be an idiot, but surely not an old idiot!
But, hold on… this getting old malarkey maybe isn’t so bad after all! It all depends on where you get to do it, I guess. You may have the misfortune to be in a damp sleeping bag spread out on the gravel floor of a farm out building, with a tractor tyre for a pillow. Hang on… that was a previous European tour in the destitute years of teenage invincibility after a never-ending Austrian thunderstorm somewhere near Saltzburg. Whoever said that was a welcoming country to visit?
Now that the seventh decade has reached its own middle age years, it’s time to welcome an unwelcome milestone with a bit more style! A villa apartment with a fabulous view will do…
Particularly if they make their own wine and olive oil!
Then, all that’s needed is a restaurant with great food and a table with one of the best views in the world…
Until we speak again, Ravello high above the Amalfi coast in SouthernItaly is as good as any place to set the tone for the older years.
Ah, this is more like it… so a couple of cats went to Bath!
At times, the sheer volume of tourist visitors to this internationally recognised city of historic and cultural heritage can be overwhelming. So, pick your timing for a visit carefully. Instructive street signage combined with an unusual welcome from a top-hatted bird might just help set a favourable tone!
But I’m sure what you, and millions of others, came for was undoubtedly a glimpse of the Royal Crescent. Always good to spend a few moments dreaming of what is and what can never be, I guess!
But climbing that hill while taking in a large dose of culture and history will surely require some sustenance. Maybe a chance to stretch the finances to indulge those fantasies of wealth. Well, fear not, award winning nosh is close to hand, not to ignore the tempting wine selection hidden behind the restaurant name… Corkage comes with great prior reviews, so let’s give it a look…
Amongst a wide range of liquid temptations, an enticing invitation from Puglia takes centre stage. With a little nudge from the wine waiter the more expensive vintage is ordered, in a nod to the opulent surroundings of this whole trip.
But the question is what to have with it? Maybe ‘spiced sweet potatoes with pickled red onion, lime and sumac yoghurt’ sounds a mystifying enough temptation. Then again, ‘frogslegs pan fried with grilled baby gem, lemon breadcrumbs and satay sauce’ would at least demonstrate the British openness to all things European, in the ongoing shambles of Brexitland. Then again, ‘colley fillet with wild rice, pan choi, tarragon hollandaise and chilli oil’ keeps swimming into vision. But the wine choice is red, so perhaps that ‘lamb rump with smoked mashed potato, roast parsnip and coffee jus’ is what’s really standing up to be counted here. But, wait a minute, ‘rabbit ragu with tagliatelle and mustard’ also comes hopping into view.
Decisions, decisions… with a further range of other tempting options putting up their hands for attention across a small but extraordinary menu. Then it comes to you… there is that most wondrous of phrases in the English language… ‘All of the above‘! And just then, you’re helpfully reminded that this restaurant does a small plates approach to dining. Not to be confused with tapas, no, not that small. Something that perfectly solves the ‘all of the above’ dilemma…
Such perfectly proportioned finery may even permit space to encourage surprise and more than a little admiration from a certain US based dessert aficionado. Why not bring on the burnt Basque cheesecake with mulled wine plums, garçon! After all, I’ve given in to more of these dessert temptations during this spring season than I have across the previous decade. However, I don’t think anything more than the world’s smallest spoonful of that chocolate affair, even with its rhubarb ganache, miso cream and crispy caramel, will pass these lips though.
Such a fine and delicate dining experience demands a post-meal walk; which is beautifully accommodated by this place of history and intrigue…
A comfortable place to rest is the next item on the itinerary, preferably with a seductive location for breakfast. Got that covered as well, as long as you’re not spooked by a strange equine companion closely observing you…
Until we speak again, perhaps there is a near perfect cappuccino to be found more easily than a recent US quest! Step forward Cortado, near Pulteney Bridge… and chill (return and repeat)!
New Orleans has always been a down and dirty in your face kinda place. Debauchery, moral corruption, and a sense of danger have been at the heart of the experience for nigh on 300 years. The food, the music, the people, the culture. It’s a marmite sort of place; you either love it or you don’t, there’s no in-between.
Then, there’s Gumbo… the official Louisiana State cuisine, which essentially refers to a stew. There isn’t just one kind of gumbo… it’s what you make of the experience. Likewise, New Orleans is what you want to make of the experience… but generally, it’s an open celebration of life.
For me, on a 5th visit, it’s looking for more of the new whilst hoping some of the best of the old is still there (post-Covid)! Maybe that’s why this visit can best be summed up as chocolatealligatorsinsearchofagoodcappuccino. Read on… it still probably won’t make any sense, like New Orleans… who knows? This determined looking guy had more than chocolate on his mind!
Finding a good cappuccino in the US, well… needles and haystacks come to mind. Cafe Beignet is an institution with new locations open across the city. They say certain things really should be tried before you die… then again, trying certain things may hasten on the demise. Believe me, the search for a good cappuccino doesn’t start here! And, as the powdered sugary topping of a deep fried coating of a tasteless gloop… this does take some beating. However, in the CafeBeignet v CafeduMonde debate (does such a challenge really trouble the world?), the latter plumbs even greater depths, in my opinion!
Surely, I could rely on my good friends at WhoDatCoffeeCafe…over in the Marigny district of the city, way off the usual tourist radar. They’ve always been my go-to place for a relatively good cappuccino, and the humorous welcome bodes well. Unfortunately for me, now they want to spoil the experience by insisting on plastic cups! What’s that about? The Rueben sandwich certainly demanded a better side.
Perhaps technology will provide the answer. Googling best cappuccino brings up the interesting sounding StreetcarCafe on St Charles Avenue. The promise did manage to beat the standard fayre so ubiquitous of anywheresville, but that’s a low bar. Then again, the experience did offer an opportunity to sample that strange (to us foreigners) breakfast of Biscuits & Gravy! Meanwhile, the search continues…
My erstwhile native US travel companion kept up her nearly 3-decades attempt to persuade me of the tempting and strangely sweet world of desserts… my resistance to which would be something Juno would be proud of. But, unbeknownst to me, this just maybe the gateway to good coffee… who’d have thought it?
On a planned stroll around the GardenDistrict, she witnessed what looked like a local chocolate emporium, and it just happened to come with a side of coffee making. Piety & Desire source and make their chocolate ingredients locally with loving detail. With such admirable principles, they also get their coffee from neighbouring fellow purveyors who happen to roast their own beans on site. Heaven, if it exists at all, can be found in strange and quiet quarters, and that delightful green piece of chocolate includes duck fat… but no alligator fat, apparently!!!
Fortified with chocolate… I mean a good cappuccino… I’m ready to take on a range of what this unbelievable city has to offer. I tried a few of those dreaded desserts (but the incriminating evidence that I actually enjoyed the experiences shall remain under wraps). In order to possibly satisfy my quirkier side, how about some art… galleried as only they can down in the Bywater district:
Alligators… chocolate or otherwise, on the Swamp Tour had a habit of showing as much interest in the floating can of people as we did of them:
Though, as the second photo suggests, some had already had their fill of cappuccino for the day… any later than 1.00 pm and rumour has it they don’t sleep as well at night!
Then again, peace and harmony along the Lafitte Greenway through Mid-City and Treme helps to burn off some of the inevitable calorie intake more usually associated with visiting almost anywhere in New Orleans:
Until we speak again, there was an obvious solution to any of us influenced enough by levels of alcohol consumption… at the tried and trusted AvenuePub on the wonderful St Charles Avenue… a Coffee Stout. The problem is that at 9.3 per cent, a few of these cause mobility issues… if you catch my drift. And, yes, please do catch my drift!
P.S. No alligators were hurt or injured in the making of this production! Chocolate, on the other hand, was consumed in a range of weird flavours!
Who said Cardiff was welcoming to visitors? Arriving at the Central railway station, these days, should you gaze in a particular direction, you might just get the city’s version of the middle finger salute! Though clearly it is coming from the brain, not the heart!
More likely, this is Brains Beers latter day middle finger salute to beer lovers.
It’s a shame really, because there was a time when the local Brains beers deserved the regular accolades and awards they received. Then came the end of the 20th century rush to corporate mediocrity. Whereby quality is sacrificed for quantity (of profits, that is).
The final site of the old brewery is about to become the centre of a new development… yet more of the planners fashion for identikit mixed use residential and commercial extravaganzas (if that’s the plural of an extravaganza?).
This will become the Central Quay, apparently… they’ve overplayed the number of quarters, with probably at least 5 in the central area of Cardiff. Whatever happened to simple mathematics in the corridors of municipal power these days? Anyway, it seems it’s time to move onto ‘quays’ instead… reuniting the city with its waterfront, so the blurb goes.
Until we speak again, feel free to raise a glass to waterfront reuniting, whatever that might entail. But, also to the demise of what was an award winning beer (albeit decades ago).
Once upon a time, Cardiff led the world… as the centre of coal trading in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. To mark such an auspicious position the Exchange Building, otherwise known as the Coal Exchange, was built in 1888 in Mount Stuart Square… down the docks as us locals refer to it.
As in any ‘exchange’, frantic activity would take place with all kinds of guys (as it was always guys at the time) gesticulating and bargaining, as the global price of coal was set right here in the Grand Hall. Then, one day in 1904, the very first £1,000,000 transaction was made. Yes, financial history was made right there on the trading floor of the Coal Exchange in Cardiff!
So, it has been a shared ambition with my local drinking friend, to dine in the grand old building when the long awaited Culley’s restaurant had opened. Not being early adopters, we have let a year or more drift by before achieving said ambition. But, it’s a grand way in which to honour that cheque from back in 1904… assuming that the prices don’t honour the historic event!
Apart from a ubiquitous olives and red wine (Argentinian Malbec) introduction to the place, we were drawn to the Scotch Egg and the Black Pudding Bon Bon starters. Small plates they may be, but the delicate tastes complemented the majestic surroundings.
As for the main course, we both just had to respect the tradition of Welsh supremacy (even if it was just briefly experienced more than 100 years ago). After all, there is a culinary delight that Wales has long been one of the world’s leading providers… Welsh Lamb. With squash and dauphinaise potato adornments, this was a fine way with which to honour that moment back in 1904.
Until we speak again, in the absence of any randomly available £1m cheques drifting my way, I’m more than happy to indulge a Welsh tradition… eating not sh____ing sheep, that is! You may enjoy those visions of spring with lambs gamboling about sunny hillsides. Me… I prefer them decorating my plate any time of the year.
Once there was a bistro… mediocre at best, but upmarket for the traditional surroundings associated with the infamous Chippy Alley of Caroline Street in the centre of Cardiff. Few tears were shed at Juno HQ as Pierre met his demise during the Covid lockdowns of 2020… but, what would replace it? Summer of 2021 gave rise to a hint of refurbishment, and in recent weeks the curtain can be raised on a new Thai restaurant. Busaba emerges to taunt those who only have time for a bag of chips… the eternal staple of the street food warriors of Caroline Street (myself included on occasions of haste).
It passes the first test… the menus are not overly complicated, and certainly don’t need to be made of wipe-down plastic (a surefire sign of *********** well, fill in the blanks with your own commentary). However, step two created a problem… even though the menu had ‘starters’ and ‘mains’ as categories, the whole lot arrived in one go!
Makes for an exciting looking table, but something’s going to get cold… not least the stare from my discerning culinary companion!
Some things were definitely going to need replacing with freshly cooked dishes (and the restaurant staff duly obliged without any fuss).
Matchstick Chicken provided crispy bites of flavour without the expected fiery burn back. Yam Pak CrispyDuck salad provided a substantial leg, covering a fabulously tasty crunchy assortment of loveliness with a hint of peanut sauce. The Chicken Green Curry provided that wonderful Thai combination of coconut and lemongrass. The Tamarind Duck Breast was accompanied by that slight fiery tang originally expected from the Matchstick starter.
But, pride of place goes to that smallest of bowls (top right of the photograph). Calamari… described on the menu as their signature wok-tossed dish in ginger and green peppercorn sauce. Or, described by me as WTF… that’s the best Calamari I’ve tasted… ever!!
Until we speak again, they describe their restaurant as “Eating in balance… at Busaba you’ll find fresh authentic flavours with an innovative twist.” I say: “Bon Voyage mediocre French joint… I want more of that Calamari… NOW!”
At least it was the 25th! A family Christmas shape shifts as the numbers change with time. My last family Christmas meal was four years ago, when five people sat around the table, but now it’s just two, as the tragic heartfelt losses mount up.
So, for my sister and I, that at least meant we could decide to check out an old favourite Cardiff restaurant, dispense with the usual Christmas Day paraphernalia, and even dispense with celebrating in December! Neither of us can trust many restaurants not to downgrade their great menu’s by replacing them with Christmas mediocrity throughout the month of December. So, whether that applies to the Bayside Brasserie or not we don’t know. What we do know, is that the same high quality experience is there for the savouring.
Whilst the menu prompted a majority of tempting memories, the power of asking for what you want was also easily accommodated by the staff. Previously, Pork Belly was a starter but now it only appears as a main. The old adage is… if you don’t ask you don’t get; so, asking for Pork Belly as a starter was not only agreed, but met with results to exceed expectations.
Perhaps it’s the sense of getting something that wasn’t there that makes it taste even better! But, though the Crispy Squid looked tempting, this Pork Belly was all mouth-watering meat with a crispy crackling covering… and that melt-in-the-mouth feeling just simply can’t be resisted.
Two or three plates of this starter alone would easily have sent me off with that satisfied feeling of a meal well-deserved… you really don’t have to be anointed as a saint to be deserving of such riches in life! But, there were other memories to be tested and satisfied, not least the vegetarians nightmare… Fillet Steak! A food that should only be allowed by law to be served with chips and peppercorn sauce. A little foliage and extra fungi provides fancy dressing for any pernickety critic.
Who needs dessert after such a meat feast? Yes, I know… the very question puts me top of the list of many of your for a cactus emema! But, for me, those glasses of a lovely Argentinian Malbec are dessert enough… but then again a properly prepared macchiato serves to bring a great early Christmas to a gentle close.
Until we speak again, have a great Christmas… whenever, wherever, and with whoever you choose to celebrate it. After all, for me and a longstanding reader of these lyrical meanderings, a great Christmas meal has even been enjoyed on a balmy night in June (for the record… Fillet Steak was also eaten there.. in Blackheath, south-east London). So, the gift of the cow is really a gift of great memories as well.
Buy up their favourite wine and bring it back to the UK!!
So, what has a week in Malta got to offer, to get you doing that Covid bureaucracy added to the new travelling experience? History? Well yes, plenty of that…
Interesting old architecture, including those distinctive wooden balconies everywhere…
A surplus of blue? Definitely, in many shades and varieties…
But, for all the enjoyable walking and water-based sight-seeing, it’s the evening that easily provides the enchantment of Malta. When the weather maybe cooking up a storm (literally on one evening), try some of the local delicacies, either under cloth in the street, or indoors. Merchant Street in Valletta offers a wide range of choices, but La Pira was the outstanding pick of the bunch…
I do like a small menu, it hints at expertise, and there is nothing so off-putting as having to read a book before you get to your starters! On this occasion, I feel drawn to the Maltese traditional options, so Maltese Special is my immediate choice. As for the discerning company, there is the challenge of serving up Calamari Fritti to a calamari aficionado! Both dishes provide the kind of satisfaction that distract you from the rain hammering down on the open tent structure we are sitting in.
And then there is the first taste of that local wine that just cries out to be taken home…
Malta does come up with the occasional surprise tradition… not the least being their favoured dish. “What’s up, doc?” Move over Bugs Bunny, this place IS your worst nightmare! For some reason, rabbit is the delicacy set out as their dish of choice. One previous tasting of the dish is located so far down in my food memory that it doesn’t particularly register… other than the ubiquitous ‘it tastes like chicken’, which is something that applies to so many ‘its not chicken’ foods. Local Rabbit seems like the only choice to me… I don’t like my rabbit to have been travelling too far in pursuit of my plate! As for the seafood fan, Pan Fried Octopus was the favoured selection, after a quick quizzing of the waiter about how it was prepared and cooked. Suffice to say, the rabbit tasted of a superior chicken, but beware these critters come with many bones in all shapes and sizes. As for the octopus, it was delicately flavoured without the feared chewy rubbery consistency occasionally attributed to the dish.
Until we speak again, the experience was so enjoyable, a second visit to La Pira only confirmed our initial appreciation… with a return for the tastiest of Calamari rounded off with mains of Summer Squash and Swordfish Ravioli, rounded off with a local Chardonnay…
Having clearly failed the honest reporting test… as my last post had been somewhat unfairly likened to culinary hate mail, by a disappointed punter who was unable to join the inaugural Black Salt adventure. There was only one possible solution to what otherwise could have become a tense Mexican Dine-Off on an ordinary Friday night in a favoured local boozer (big shout out to the Flute & Tankard!).
A reunion with culinary confusion was duly arranged with said punter, and the previously failed search for the mythical Wine List and Greek Salad amongst a sea of battered vegetables was accepted. Not least, so that the gauntlet of challenge can be retrieved from the litter-strewn pavement of Whitchurch Road.
On my approach, I did wonder if there was a cunning tactic at play… paying unemployed hospitality sector employees to pose in an open window idly chatting with interested passers-by. Could this be the new way of making places look busy and in demand?
Anyway, the time arrived when the afore mentioned gauntlet needed grasping… and before I could even raise a patronising clicked finger demanding to see the previously extinct Wine List, there it was, already laid out on the table, taunting me back into a pose of relative British consumer timidity.
The road to redemption is clearly signposted, so my next decision is delicately poised… what starter to tempt the palate? ‘Safety first’ shouldn’t be the determining factor when it comes to culinary adventures; but, sod it, that Halloumi with Chilli and Honey was just too good to be missed!
Then came the prime purpose of this visit, to see if a Greek Salad really could accompany a steak on the same table at the same time. It may sound like a simple request, but on the previous occasion we mere mortal diners had committed the cardinal sin… asking for a Greek Salad to REPLACE the signature oceans of fried batter that unquestionably accompany everything that had walked or swam in a previous incarnation. Lessons have been learned… just ask for Greek Salad alongside everything else. And lo, before our ravenous eyes, two Greek Salads duly arrived ahead of Daisy’s delights.
Only one challenge was left, in order to redeem my reputation as a serious investigator of all things Fillet. Could the true centrepiece of the visit stand alone, unimpeded by the burden of shouldering an onion ring the size and consistency of a tractor tyre? Again, there is a simple solution presenting itself in gluttonous obviousness… why have 8oz when you can have a 12oz beast of medium rare succulence? Even accompanied by a mega slice of cooked tomato, this animal has no intention of lurking in any shadows! And yes, those chips were very tasty when dipped in a pond of peppercorn sauce. [For any overseas readers, chips and oz’s are what Brexit might have been fought over, whilst still being a completely ridiculous idea!].
Until we speak again, yes… it’s a French Red Wine, a St Emilion. But in my defence, I didn’t order it! Personal redemption, it seems, comes with a price tag. ‘Black Salt II ~ The Redemption‘ was worth extending the glove of friendship, at least to resolve any unnecessary continuation of the Mexican Dine-Off. Trilogies, however, well, that’s a whole different culinary affair!
JUNO's VIEW 