Food history

Posted on January 30, 2016 by Steve Morgan

So, what are my credentials for talking to you about the history of food? After all, as a true cat I appoint others to do the hard graft for me!

The President of my predecessor’s (Juno) fan club was recently celebrating a birthday, the number of which sounds to me like like something out of history. It’s one of those numbers where you people can easily tend to get lost; who knows where she is going here? Are the loos down there? Or is this a subterranean dining experience going on?

I digress, the thing here is about how history and food came together… at least in my mind anyway. This train of thought came together when my ‘appointed food taster’ said they were off to a Blue Anchor, or somewhere nautical that is actually miles from the sea (strange ideas happen when it comes to naming pubs, inns, restaurants).

But this one is old, very old, 1380 old! And it seems from reading a brief history about the place like it has always been an inn, always into the beer and food groove. So I guess they must have learned to do some things right by now. It’s a cold and bleak winter’s day, so you need something to take the chill away, and this place certainly oozes that cozy old inn vibe…

Apparently the Blue Anchor is well known amongst the beer aficionados for its small but well-kept range of the amber and pale nectar. And I’m told the lotion more than adequately complemented the nosh. As for the eating, where do you start? Ham Hock sounded like some ancient vittles, but I’m informed it was a thick and tasty starter, though who knows what the green stuff was up to hiding under the

This being a Sunday, my instructions were to go for the traditional roasts, and my compliant diners duly obliged…

Whilst these Yorkshire puddings take up space the beef (and those going for lamb) reported a very tasty meal. The real test is the vegetables, and they came through as lightly cooked and crunchy… “just right” I said. So my local fans have found another place well worth re-visiting; and being around since 1380 this place isn’t going away anytime soon. The place is East Aberthaw in the Vale of Glamorgan, and until we speak again I’m Bella, and my advice is ignore history, go now!

It’s a carve up!

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Steve Morgan

Family birthday events do have a habit of clashing with the run up to christmas; but then it’s difficult to shift a birthday I suppose. So what can be done if the christmas effect is to be avoided in the culinary department? Nothing it would appear, but then who listens to the advice of a knowledgeable cat? It comes as an unusual experience for my kind not to be in complete control of what goes on, particularly when this bunch of humans decide to go off to ‘noshville’ without me!

It seems the older, so-called wiser members of the group decided to do the same thing as last year. Well, don’t blame me if you get the same as you already had! There were incessant moans about the rubbish service from my ‘resident gourmand‘ on the news of the deja vu eating experience. Nevertheless, off to the Marriott Hotel in central Cardiff is where the starving clan congregated. [With thanks to booking.com for the above image of the hotel exterior].

It seems that the place was quite popular, or is that just the christmas effect kicking in? Anyway, those who should have been at home taking care of my culinary delights were led to a table in close proximity to carver central…

It seems that lightening really does strike twice, as I hear it took three separate members of staff an eternity to sort out bringing a bottle of Rioja and a couple of glasses to the table… a mere 20 minutes later than the glass of Pino Grigio and glass of Pino Rose requested by others in the party.

I wonder if draping a clean handkerchief around the bottle adds to the flavour of the wine; or is it just a sneaky flourish to cover up for poor service?

With a taste of wine smoothing the palate my discerning food taster goes for a simple mix from the starters buffet table; salami and ham accompanied by salad and antipasti…

But the coup de gras of the whole set up was the hotel’s signature hot buffet carvery, top ended with melt in the mouth turkey breast and beef, sublimely accompanied by crisp seasonal vegetables, a fluffy Yorkshire pudding and tasty gravy…

Tis the season for brussel sprouts, and for all of the faint praise they receive, a crunchy sprout is a fine accompaniment to any festive dish. The overall verdict reported back to me was of a very tasty meal, but a likely seasonal recruitment campaign results in service that falls below the average expectations. So, until we speak again may all of your brussel sprouts be crunchy!

Smoky Days

Posted on December 5, 2015 by Steve Morgan

A smoke and fire combination doesn’t have to spell disaster. Though when my ‘resident gastronome’ started eulogising about the taste of smoke I was beginning to contemplate instant evacuation from the joint! Rather than a fire-induced emergency, it seems the reference was more to a recently established addition to an over-full American burger type of market. The smoke in question turns out to be a Kansas influenced method of cooking that uses the b-b-q smoky style that brings out the best of taste in good meats.

Being American in origin, The Smoke Haus leaves little space on the plate. Ramping up the numbers of the obese population doesn’t seem to be a primary concern. Health hazards are just collateral damage when it comes to the pursuit of gastronomic pleasures. On the occasion of this particular visit a New orleans Burger, Kansas Chicken, and Veggie Chilli were complemented with house fries, rice, Guinness, and Anchor Steam beer. These were the relatively small portions, but for those who could eat a horse, or another more likely complete animal for that matter, The Smoke Haus is waiting to prepare the challenge for you!

Whatever level of challenge you take on, there is the universal message to all diners… We Salute You! Well, they do get to pocket your hard earned cash, and this isn’t cheap by average burger joint standards…

… The old adage is that you get what you pay for, and my ‘surrogate tastebud‘ tells me it is worth paying the upsell for a whole different quality of taste.

Until we speak again this Bella recommends the influence of smoke on you palate. A Smoky Day should not just be a melodic tune from Colin Blunstone! What next… how about sampling some fire-eating.

Chasing the bacon

Posted on November 14, 2015 by Steve Morgan

A cat can only take so much of these rocks; sold to me as food by the one who doesn’t ever eat them! I decided what I needed was a really good pig, but enough of the ‘pretend owner’ of this place… it’s time I went on a Welsh safari. I hear Carmarthen is a good place for livestock, so let’s go check out what it has to offer for the discerning cat.

After a tortuous rail journey made interesting only by sea and estuarine views after Swansea, arrival in Carmarthen station leaves little to suggest I’m on track for anything exciting. Better follow the locals I guess, as they seem to all be heading for this strangely bridge shaped footpath to who knows where.

First sight suggests the locals have built fortifications many years ago to keep the outsider pig chasers at bay. Though I’d have to say they got a little architecturally conflicted between ideas of battlements and bureaucracy; with former looking slightly less imposing than the paper-chasers fortress…

Still no sign of the elusive porkers, but perhaps this old guy has realised an elevated position gives you a vantage point to spot the critters, or maybe it’s a defence against a local custom stolen and adapted from the Pamplona… ‘the running of the pigs‘ through the streets of Carmarthen!

Too much searching takes its toll, so this looks like as good a place as any for resting up before the next exertions. But hold on a minute, is the name trying to tell me something?

Perhaps a settling of the thirst will help the concentration on the task at hand. Let’s check out the local brew from down the road close to Llanelli, what’s it called again? Oh yes, its Felinfoel with the standout pint of Double Dragon… scary stuff, eh?

Time to survey the menu to see if that pesky pig has happened by this old place; or is it just the ancient site or resting place for the head of the king boar?

Funny isn’t it, us cats can exert so much energy in the hunt for something. Then when you sit down and relax it just falls into your lap! The exalted pig arrived in the juiciest of forms, complete with the trimmings of its natural habit… the majestic fry-up!

Now that I’ve plundered Carmarthen of its best hog it’s time to make a discreet getaway. So, where did I leave that super-charged chariot of mine? Oh no, not the dreaded local conveyance! Since when did the coracle represent the height of decadent movement? Until we speak again I’m going to be perambulating Bella, but then I guess I need to exercise away the additional pig I’m carrying.

The Mouse Hunter

Posted on October 31, 2015 by Steve Morgan

Down Mexico way there is a celebrity mouse called Speedy Gonzalez, or so I’m told. Just how speedy would be put to the test if a cool cat appeared amongst the celebrities! But where do I begin my search for a Mexican cultural icon from a starting point somewhere in Cardiff?

My interest is immediately piqued as my recent stroll into the town centre was arrested by the sight of Wahaca (isn’t that ‘whatever‘ in Spanish? Probably not!).

A promising sign read Mexican Market Eating, so ‘no better place to find a mouse‘ I thought, with no intentional reflection on what turns out to be impeccably clean standards.

This supposedly colourful character is not going to be easy to find amongst the camouflage provided by brightly lit colours, with lines and patterns throughout the establishment rendering a relaxed cat quite disorientated…

But the ultimate deception is provided by the menu of delights on offer. Who can still be thinking of a pesky celebrity mouse when your attention is drawn to a tasty range of tacos, tostadas, taquitos, quesadillas, empanadas and burritos. Chicken, chorizo, a variety of fish, avocado, pumpkin, peppers, spinach, and a range of spicy sauces and marinades. This is not the kind of stuff I find in my bowl on a daily basis, so I’m in for a special treat.

The Modelo Especial Mexican beer compliments the whole Mexican flavour of the moment. For a shared starter I and my Brighton resident visiting cat went for the tortilla chips with guacamole and fresh tomato salsa dips. Chunky home cooked tortilla makes a great change from nachos resembling little more than UK crisps.

But this was just a delicious appetiser before the explosion of taste provided by the main dishes of Pasilla Chicken Tacos with a habanero salsa and side of black beans and green rice; and Marinated Grilled Chicken in Yucatan spices…

There were so many more great dishes to sample, but we were already stuffed at this point. All I can say to any cats in the vicinity is get your tail around Wahaca as soon as you can, you won’t be disappointed.

Until we speak again I’m going to be a ‘contento/feliz’ cool cat called Bella. As for my ‘in-house chef’ all I can say is get learning from Wahaca, and in the meantime find me that pesky mouse.

Bill who?

Posted on October 16, 2015 by Steve Morgan

It’s all in a name, or so they say. After all, I’m Bella, or am I? I wasn’t called Bella a couple of months ago; I just happened to take on new staff, and they decided to give me this name in preference to what they call me all the time anyway… Puss!

Enough about me… eh, did I really say that!? Anyway, back to my main role of educating you humans in the ways of Cardiff. So, there I was, minding everyone else’s business as I meandered through the Victorian arcades, when a sign from above left me with the kind of ambiguity that signs from above usually do.

“Bill who“, I instantly pondered. Or would that be William in a posher locale? Perhaps it’s Billy in a more playful parallel universe. Then my mind went into overdrive: Shakespeare… no; The Kid… no; Clinton… no; Wild of Hickok fame… no. Then it dawned on me, it’s not a person after all, it’s those things that the resident ‘failed accountant’ hides away in a draw marked ‘do not disturb’. I surmised it must be the place in the arcade where you pay for everything else in the arcade, but apparently not.

I thought I would take a wider perspective on the conundrum, only to become even more, uncharacteristically for me, confused…

I suddenly realised that Mediterranean influences had taken such a hold on Cardiff that we were now being instructed by another sign saying ‘Ask Italian‘! Cos’e questo? I meowed in my best Milanese dialect. But the only response from the natives seemed to be something along the lines of an exclamatory ‘wos occurrin’ yer?’

All became clear when you take the more educated view from the library side of the issue…

We’re talking about an eating emporium, and as much as I would prefer to conduct my investigations inside, this was going to have to be an instruction for my ‘food-taster general‘ (you don’t know how much it bothers my brain-cells to even consider allocating such an important function to the ‘in-house numpty’). Lucky for me, the junior numptys’ were about to visit for some ’round object kicking competition’, so they would all be dispatched immediately after the game to masticate on the morsels that Bill might be able to conjure up.

The decor seems all a bit too cluttered and deliberately mismatched, but hopefully designed so you focus more on the food and less on the surroundings. Candles were a nice twist to light a semi-darkened alcove seating just the one table for four (though ‘Numpty Major’ decided it was in honour of the home team beating that of the junior visitors).

The menu is not overly cluttered for one of the many modern American influenced eateries that occupy many a British 21st century high street. Starters include some over-sized home-cooked nachos (actually spiced corn tortillas with a nice kick, accompanied by tzatziki, guacamole and salsa dips).

But then for the main prize… when you’re not in America don’t do what the Americans don’t… or nothing like what that says! A tasty plate of b-b-q pork ribs provided a delicious melt-in-the-mouth surprise treat with a tasty side of slaw (though you can get real chips around the corner in Caroline Street!). As for the football vanquished juniors’, it was a lime and coriander chicken and a fish dish from the specials board as a consolation.

Apparently Bill’s gets a thumbs up for the food and overall ambience, and once again I get to savour what could have been!

Until we speak again I promise to be Bella, and you can be whoever you want to be.

A French Connection

Posted on October 3, 2015 by Steve Morgan

As a consumate carnivore my drug of choice is fillet steak. I’m led to believe that France portrays itself as the world’s leading dealer of my favourite fix, but why should a Cardiff cat, a creature of home comforts, need to contemplate long distance adventures for such a top quality fix?

Little was I to know that a casual glance out of the window while emerging from my Central Library slumbers might just have provided an answer to my cravings, also eliminating the potential travel challenges.

A closer look is needed…

That distinct Cote lettering tells me we are talking French connections here, so I thought I would make use of the opportune visit of a couple of cats from Brighton as a cover for checking the joint out. The Cote Brasserie menu is not overly fussy, so we settle in with some olives and rustic bread while I search out that fillet steak.

I wait with great expectation as my steak is being prepared. My fellow cats are going for varieties of bird on the menu, but I have enough of the chicken at home in my bowl or when my in-house garçon deigns to patronise me with morsels of deli counter meats. The wait is worthwhile, as the steak looks perfect, the peppercorn sauce is tasty, the french beans are crunchy, and the chips satisfy (well, despite their claims the French can’t get everything perfect!).

Apparently the chargrilled breton chicken also gets the thumbs up. So, if you happen to be in Cardiff and need a fix of your favourite fillet style drug, Cote Brasserie on Mill Lane is well worth a visit. Until we speak again this Bella will be joining Popeye Doyle in successfully finding Frog One, and I might just check out French Connection I & II again.

Grazie mille

Posted on July 18, 2015 by Steve Morgan

Italy is known for many things but churches and food seem to occupy a generous amount of their culture. Juno always managed to recognise the food and religion combination, and as for most cats it usually took the form of a food-food combo!

Understandably, the Italian community in Cardiff would like to reflect the centuries of home-grown cultural significance, and Cafe Citta is a classic example of achieving that very same vibe. Located on Church Street, and in the shadows of the historic St. John’s Church, this is everything you would expect of a family-run Italian restaurant (and more).

Forget everything you know about the many Italian chain restaurants that litter our high streets. If it’s authentic you are looking for then this tiny little corner of Cardiff can offer almost everything that any corner in Italy can. The menu is reasonably brief and unfussy, which I have always found to be a good reflection of quality… focus on what you are really good at, don’t try to offer everything to everyone! If it’s not to your liking then you can always go trip over a ‘chain’ around the nearest corner.

This place is both small and extremely popular, so booking is almost always going to be essential…

With an open kitchen and wood-burning pizza oven the choice of main meals, after the olives and warm bread entre, wasn’t going to be a difficult choice. The specials board held many a temptation, but I had booked weeks in advance with the promise to my eating compatriot that Wales was going to come up with the superb pizza that our recent visit to Palermo had not! One Diavalo and one Quattro Stagioni for sharing between us were promptly ordered. A great combination of ham, spicy salami, artichokes, olives, peppers, mushrooms and some fiery chilli addition was just right as the Pinot Grigio was sliding down nicely.

The dough is expertly thrown in the open kitchen, and comes thin and crispy, but just right as a base for the cheese & tomato essentials topped off with the required fabulous array of ingredients. Pizza heaven had been ascended into!

Neither of us food protagonists have a sweet tooth, so desserts are not normally the order of the day. But this was the quintessential family owned and run restaurant, and they tempted us with the promise that everything they serve is home made. Italian trademark Tiramisu is something I have occasionally indulged in, so the decision was made…

… and yes, it was certainly home made and interestingly served up in a coffee cup. It proved to be a delicate and perfectly balanced end to a fabulous meal. Sambucca and an Italian Brandy were a natural compliment to the dessert, leaving two diners completely satisfied with a top class experience.

Until we speak again may all of your dining experiences be culturally crafted to the highest of standards.

What to call it?

Posted on July 4, 2015 by Steve Morgan

Juno was always ready when food was on the agenda, delicately poised to catch any stray morsels of fish or meat…

But she was never easily fooled by her resident dreamer’s claim that Cardiff had a distinctly mediterranean vibe…

For all of the outdoor eating when the sun was shining, Juno was quite clear that Cardiff had a reputation for being the rainfall capital of the UK. She could think of no better reason for being an indoor cat. Meanwhile, us mere mortals went in search of sustenance on a sunny Sunday lunchtime…

Choice would not appear to be a problem, in the heart of a capital city centre. But discerning tastes were drifting away from dropping in on the ubiquitous chain restaurants that have come to dominate, making everywhere a carbon copy of everywhere else. Juno was a distinctly individual cat, and it was the legacy of her spirit that drove the food enthusiasts on in their search for a unique port of call. The question is, what might it be called amongst the sea of familiarity?

The Brewery Quarter has a certain liquidity about it, but Juno’s discerning tastes were more towards the vineyard than the brewery…

Still the question remained, would we know the place of supreme individuality when we saw it?

Caroline Street has achieved a certain world renown as ‘Chip Alley‘ for its succession of good old fashioned ‘chippies’, but we were not in the mood for a bag of chips and curry sauce while strolling by the somewhat more sophisticated diners (i.e. people sitting on chairs).

Perhaps if we looked to the corner of Caroline Street we might just find a source of inspiration…

Anyway, while we pondered what you might actually call a unique eatery with a prominent location, we decided that searching should give way to eating. It might have been a sunny Sunday, but that is no excuse for missing out on a Sunday roast of beef. And maybe a nod to Mediterranean culture with a bottle of fine Spanish Rioja…

Once refreshment was complete we were able to go back to the challenge of thinking what you might call a house on the corner of Caroline Street if you were projecting your distinctiveness in the sea of chains!

As for Juno, she would no doubt have been keeping watchful eyes on the idiots she was attempting to mentor! Until we speak again, if you find a Corner House it probably does what it says on the tin.

Pursuit of elegance

Posted on June 27, 2015 by Steve Morgan

Emerging from the docklands of London, and moving to the docklands of Cardiff instilled in Juno the deep rooted need to pursue something not easily equated with the streets of former industrial heartlands… the embodiment of elegance. The interpretation of indifference has often been too easily attributed to the demeanour of cats, whereas for Juno the cool cat exterior was simply her way of communicating the natural superiority she felt over the humans whose mission it was to serve her!

On my latest work trip back to the place of her origin… Newham, East London, I was determined that some of that elegant demeanour should rub off. I and my trusty companion journeyed forth through the Isle of Dog’s and Wapping’s of the former maritime powerhouse that was once the world famous London docks, in search of elegant vitals in sublime surroundings. In the depths of the memory banks reminiscence of one St. Katherine’s Dock kept re-surfacing:

A wide range of budgets and ethnic sources of restaurants and bars are available in these relaxing surroundings, but recent Turkish delights from Islington were over-powering the decision-making equipment, particularly when Kilikya’s Turkish Restaurant hove into sight, occupying a central position in one of the former dockside buildings.

The table offered a mesmerising view of water-bound tranquility…

… while the interior presented a subdued atmosphere conducive to the forthcoming art of consumption. The success of the pursuit had finally been confirmed by a casual glance at the wine menu, offering Cankaya, a Turkish white wine accurately described as dry, light
and elegant!

We had most definitely achieved that ‘mission accomplished’ vibe, and it was time to surrender to the inevitable Turkish delights on offer. A selection of succulent olives and side of flatbread set up the palate for a feast. Iskender Kebap, a mix of marinated cubed chicken & lamb delicately spiced with an addition of yoghurt, a Biber Dolma presented stuffed red peppers, and even chips to die for!

As a midsummers evening began to give up its visual splendour we had a last opportunity to take in the elegant surroundings we had enjoyed for the past couple of hours…

And all of this happened within the shadow of a true London architectural icons…

Until we speak again take Juno’s lead and bring some elegance into your life.

	David on Searching for Lebanon
	Kirt on NOLA: UK-style
	Wanda Rusiecki on Frohe Weihnachten
	Steve Morgan on Turkish delight
	Wanda Rusiecki on Turkish delight

JUNO's VIEW

Seeing Cardiff and the world through the eyes of one cool cat

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