Cooking Up a Storm at South Lodge

Can editor, Melissa Love, cut it in the pro kitchen at Sussex’s premier fine dining restaurant?

You can keep your X-Factors and your Strictly Come Ice Dancing in the Jungle. In our house, it’s all about Masterchef. Not only do I tune in to every episode, it’s the only reality TV show that I am secretly convinced I can win. I know that I could be the one to reduce shouty John to an awed silence and bring a tear to the eye of dessert-loving Greg, as I unmould the perfect chocolate fondant, the pudding which has seen off many a lesser contestant.

And of course the very best bit, is when the hapless contenders are packed off to a hot, busy professional kitchen where they either thrive or dissolve into a puddle of sweaty despair. So when the call comes to spend the day in the kitchen at Sussex’s premier fine dining venue, The Pass at South Lodge, I’m out the door, apron in hand, quicker than you can say ‘Yes Chef!’

Thinking to get a sneak preview of the task ahead, I secretly ate in the restaurant the night before and, if I am being honest, I have rather intimidated myself. Plate after plate of carefully crafted morsels passed before us and it was proper fiddly high-powered food. Stunningly presented, explosive flavours; in short, I had no idea how any of it was conjured into being and faced with the prospect of trying to cook at this level, quite frankly, I’m a bit nervous.

Head Chef, Matt Gillan, sits me down for a chat before we get started. He’s been at South Lodge for three and a half years and running The Pass kitchen since it opened a year ago. Previously he was cooking in the hotel’s Camelia Restaurant; perfectly turned-out country house-style fine dining – but nowhere near as exciting as masterminding the menus at The Pass, I would imagine.

He explains how he constructs such complex dishes. “First of all, I find the initial ingredient and build the dish around it. It’s always seasonal and usually local and then I start to experiment, making lists of things that will definitely work, things that might work, and things that probably won’t work but might just be genius. We use a few fancy bits of kit - foams guns and pacojets - but we don’t do fancy just for the sake of it.”

Blimey, it all sounds a bit Heston Blumenthal. Matt admits that the groundbreaking cuisine at The Fat Duck has been a big influence. “A visit there earlier in my career really got me thinking and at The Pass, we put a lot of thought into understanding why certain ingredients work well together. Of course we’d love to get a Michelin star one day – who wouldn’t? - but I know our audience and I want people to enjoy their meal and feel it’s great value for money.”

Enough chat. It’s time to get down to some cooking and when Matt pushes me towards a big bowl of miniature carrots I sense I am being put to work where I can do the least damage. I expect Matt to swan off to make some foam or something, but he picks up a peeler and gets stuck in right beside me. It takes just a few minutes to give the tiny carrots a close shave (I should point out that I managed to do about six whilst Matt polished off the rest of the pile) and I am moved up to the meat section. Along with Chef de Partie (or Head of Section) Steven Edwards, there is a line of whole quails waiting for my attention. Steven shows me how to break the legs of the tiny quails with a sickening crunch, peel back their skins and slice off the breast meat with a wickedly sharp knife.

I manage not to disgrace myself and merrily hack my way through six quails as Steven makes short work of the remaining twenty-four. I’m starting to get into my stride now, but what fresh horror is this? A huge tub of live langoustines are put on the counter before me. Aha! They are probably about to be boiled or frozen or despatched in some other non-confrontational but humane way? “No”, says Steven, “That would be cruel. The quickest way to kill them is to sever the spinal cord.” He calmly rips the head off one of them and pushes the tub over to me.

Quite a crowd has gathered now, so not wanting to look like the girlie amateur I secretly am, I grasp a smallish one firmly with both hands and twist its head off. It’s horrible. Not the twisting part – that’s easy – but both bits keep squirming for a few seconds afterwards and embarrassingly, I drop the tail part on the floor and let out a little squeal. Oh dear, but they’re tasty little things and my desire to acquit myself well outweighs my squeamishness and soon Steven and I are companionably beheading the langoustines and lining up their plump bodies ready for the stove.

They will become part of a deconstructed prawn cocktail which currently features on one of the Christmas menus. By now, I’ve realised this isn’t going to be any ordinary prawn cocktail and when it’s time to plate it up, Steven puts no less than nine tiny pans on the hob to prepare the various elements which make up the dish.

It’s time for me to step up to the pass and deliver my plate. Admittedly, it’s Steven who has stirred the various concoctions, cooked the piece of salmon and brought everything together with impeccable timing, but hey, what else are the kitchen brigade for if not to answer the every whim of the master chef. I am ready to fulfil my destiny.

It’s fiddly. I put the beautiful cube of salmon in the wrong place and have to start again. I apply streaks of seafood reduction, shellfish froth and balance a stack of teeny tiny micro leaves on top of the froth-covered salmon cube. And now the moment I’ve been waiting for - Matt hands me the foam gun. From the crowd of chefs gathered around the hot plate, I gather this is the moment they’ve been waiting for too. I am poised, ready to deliver a perfect sphere of prawn-flavoured foam to complete my work of culinary art. I release the trigger and whoosh, a foamy mess the size of a tennis ball erupts onto the plate. Disaster. Humiliatingly, Steven has to replate everything and at this point I admit defeat. He deposits the perfect amount of the dreaded prawn foam and voila, my dish is finished.

I admire it long enough to take a photograph and then scoff the lot. So would Matt pick me if I was a Masterchef nobody? Of he would, he says gallantly, gently ushering me out of his gleaming kitchen. John, Greg, I couldda been a contender….!

South East Seafood Website (July 2009)

Click on the image to view the South East Seafood website, containing recipes and other content which I have recently created.

Eat Your Sussex Greens (Sussex Life - July 2009)

Sussex has long been a centre for salad growing in the UK. Clustered around the coastal plains of Chichester, salad farms in that area produce nearly one third of the country’s salad crops. As with grapes grown for wine in the county, the sandy soil and mild micro-climate in that part of West Sussex suits the production of delicate leafy crops and vine-ripened tomatoes.
Many of the larger growers were established before the Second World War, and were among the first producers in Europe to pioneer growing under glass. Whilst growers then used to concentrate on traditional varieties of lettuce, like iceberg and gem, these days you are just as likely to find exotic leaves like rocket and mizuna or micro herbs and cresses grown on hydroponic mats.

In truth, much of the produce from large-scale growers ends up being distributed across the UK, but there are many small salad nurseries in the county whose amazingly fresh leaves and vine fruit end up in box schemes and at farmers’ markets handy to all of us.

One of the most exciting growers in Sussex, Fletching Glasshouses, is a relative newcomer, setting up in 2006 on Fletching Common near Newick. Isobel, Alan & Emily Rae initially bought the property to house their rapidly expanding online business which sells plants over the internet. Finding themselves with over 2 acres of working but dilapidated greenhouses, the family set about reclaiming the productive growing space slowly, and now have 3 out of 4 houses back in production and are working on rehabilitating the 4th and final house.

The variety of leaves and exotic vegetables they produce is truly staggering, from baby courgettes and bushy-topped fennel to okra and tomatillos. However, they are rightly renowned for their salad leaves which they grow throughout the year. During the summer months, I always have a bag of their loose salad to hand and guests never fail to comment on the weird, wonderful and intensely flavoured leaves and shoots they find on their plates.

You can get hold of their produce from We Love Local but the Fletching team also appear at many farmers’ markets around the county. Find out more at www.fletchingglasshouses.co.uk.

Eat the View (Sussex Life - June 09)

When we come into late spring, I find it almost impossible to choose anything other than local lamb for any meal which involves family & friends. At this time of year, this succulent meat is at its absolute best and there is no more explicit link between the food we eat and the countryside around us than Sussex lamb. Thanks to the hard work of farmers across the county, the fields, hedgerows and wildlife of the downland is maintained by their careful stewardship of the land they farm.

In Sussex, we are lucky to have our very own native breed, the Southdown, bred & grazed across the hills and lower pastures of the Downs and the Sussex Weald for nearly 200 years. A small and hardy breed, these sheep are perfectly suited to the up and down life of grazing a rugged and varied terrain.

At the risk of making these lambs sound too appealing, they have small rounded faces and a generous covering of tight curls across their heads. With fleece which grows down to their knees, they resemble nothing more than cuddly teddy bears.

They also happen to be exceedingly tasty and the efforts of the Southdown Lamb & Beef co-operative of farmers has seen production rise by nearly 6,000 lambs a year over the last 5 years, most of which have been finding their way to high street butchers across the county.

However, many farmers I speak to bemoan our preference for the choicer cuts like leg or loin, which makes it hard for them to sell the rest of the animal at a decent price. We are all practising a little thrift at the moment, so why not start in the kitchen? Next time you visit your local butcher, ask for something less glamorous but far more tasty, like shoulder, neck fillet or my favourite unsung cut, breast of lamb.

The Best of the Rest in June

Fennel
New potatoes
Spring greens
Broad beans
Blackcurrants
Strawberries
Sea trout
Mackerel
Wood pigeon

Celebrate the end of the hungry gap (Sussex Life - May 09)

Like hibernating animals, the first watery rays of sunshine in March and April bring us forth in search of tasty greenery and succulent spring vegetables, only to find the same old winter staples – root vegetables, onions & kale – are all that can be found. It is often called the ‘hungry gap’ and it is not until towards the end of April that the abundance of new fresh produce we are craving can be obtained with any reliability.

In the meantime, if you are feeling adventurous, then a quick forage in any park, patch of scrubland or country lane or should yield enough wild nettles to make a light iron-rich soup. Be bold, wear gloves and pick the tops of the youngest, most succulent specimens you can find. A brief rinse and the nettles are ready to use in a spring soup which is the best way to bring out the delicate flavour. A tin of butter beans or cannellini beans will turn it into a heartier dish.

When you’ve had your fill of foraging, most farm shops, markets and vegetable box schemes will be offering a vegetable which really does shout spring - fennel. Pale green, crunchy & with a delicate aniseed flavour, fennel is too often written off as an accompaniment to fish, when really it can be the star of any meal. A member of the celery family, fennel can be used in place of celery in any dish. Italians prepare fennel in over 20 different ways and one of my favourites is fennel & onion risotto with plenty of parmesan cheese. Don’t forget to use the delicate fronds as a garnish.

The best of the rest in May
· Asparagus
· Purple sprouting broccoli
· Globe artichokes
· Early broad beans
· Runner beans
· Mangetout
· Peas
· New potatoes
· Watercress
· Early raspberries & strawberries
· Elderflower

The Rise of the Budget Supermarket (The Argus 20/03/09)

Don’t Buy Budget, Buy Local – it’s never been cheaper

It’s a tough time for all shopkeepers at the moment, but particularly for independent retailers on shopping streets across Brighton & Hove.

As a passionate supported of small local food businesses, my heart sinks with every new headline about the rising popularity of budget food stores and the increase in sales of fast food and cheap takeaways.

I certainly think budget food shops have their place – after all we can’t buy everything we need locally – but these kind of news items only tell one side of the story. The truth is that fresh, local food has never been cheaper or easier to get hold of and can give even the cheapest supermarkets a run for their money.

So how can local food shops compete with giant retailers who buy in bulk and pile it high?
The answer is because they are able to cut out layers of middle men and deal direct with farmers and small producers who are just a few miles outside the city. Even more importantly, local fruit and vegetables which are in season tend to be cheap because there are a lot of them about – a glut which farmers are happy to sell at lower prices. Add to that the low transport costs and the strong euro and the local food option will nearly always be cheaper than the supermarket alternative.

You don’t have to take my word for this. Every week I visit a couple of the larger supermarket retailers and price up a basket full of veggies for comparison, and locally grown produce, picked on the morning it’s delivered, is at least 10% cheaper week after week….as are eggs, milk & bread. Staple local foods, carefully and responsibly produced, are affordable for everyone.

More importantly, every pound you spend with a retailer who sells local food, stays in the local community. With over 20 farmers and small producers on our books alone, we know that money spent on local food doesn’t just benefit the retailer but also helps safeguard jobs and local food traditions across the county. Where does a pound spent at Aldi go? Certainly some will go to pay the wages of local people who work there, which is undoubtedly a good thing, but the rest has been used to purchase products from other countries and any profits go straight into the pockets of the German parent company of Aldi, Albrecht Discount, whose owners Karl & Theo Albrecht are the richest men in Germany.

And what do the wealthy Albrecht brothers give back to Brighton & Hove? Very little compared with the farmers of Sussex whose daily work maintains the beautiful South Downs which surround Brighton & Hove. They graze livestock, protect wildlife and care for the patchwork of fields and hedgerows which makes Brighton & Hove such a great place to live.

Our farmers and small shops need you and your business, not the Albrecht brothers whose only interest is in the bottom line. Now get shopping.