Samphire (also okra, fern and bamboo shoots) kimchi

he only reason why Koreans do not make kimchi out of  samphire is because samphire only grows in North-Western Europe. Should it favour East Asia too, I have no doubt it would have long been part of the gorgeous sanchae or sansai, wild vegetables commonly used to make pickles in Korea and Japan.

Last month I decided to correct this Mother Nature's oversight and made kimchi out of Norfolk samphire. Fresh, crunchy and naturally briny, it is perfectly complemented by ginger and pepper. Just follow your regular kimchi recipe, but use samphire instead of cabbage or daikon. Depending on how much you make, the amount of  ingredients will vary, so I will rather give proportions than exact quantities. You should make enough kimchi base paste to smother the main ingredient comfortably.

 Kimchi base ingredients:

1. equal quantities of minced garlic, fish sauce and minced onion.  
2. double quantities of rice porridge and gochugaru (hot pepper flakes, can be substituted with gochujang)
3. quarter quantity of minced ginger. 

Procedure:

1. Rinse samphire well and remove the woody parts. Cut into equal pieces.
2. Mix the kimchi base ingredients. Fold the samphire into the mixture.
3. Cover with a lid and leave to ferment at a room temperature for 24 hours. When bubbles start showing, the process has kicked off. Move to a cold place, ideally a few degrees above zero degree centigrade. A few days is normally enough to complete fermentation: keep checking until you are satisfied with the taste.

P.S. I also use bamboo shoots, okra, string beans, turnip, daikon (mooli) and fiddlehead fern (warabi or gosari) for my kimchi preserves. Bean sprouts are rather delicate in texture so they can be simply mixed with the excess of juice from already made kimchi and left overnight in the fridge. Kimchi out of bean sprouts and samphire do not hold long, so finish yours within a week or so.

Yorkshire roast beef wrap @ The Prince Albert, Brixton

If you know where to go - and it's no rocket science - you can eat extremely well in London for under a tenner. A good example is my local pub, The Prince Albert in Brixton's Coldharbour Lane. Despite its kinky name it churns out perfectly conventional English fare cooked to perfection. I am probably the last person to exalt the virtues of French fries but I find them a treat at The Prince Albert.

Or take this Yorkshire roast beef wrap. I am not quite sure it is really typical British as I have never encountered it anywhere else but it's a beatifully presented and expertly prepared dish. If the picture and my (rarely awoken) enthusiasm were not convincing enough, here's the last one that will sure get you: it's only 5 quid!

Whitstable oysters: Britain's best

They say that what goes around, comes around. That's true, but every time the game level is up.

Scotch egg

ere they are in front of me like a pair of gigantic shaven and tanned highlander testicles. Despite the name, the blessed idea to deep-fry boiled eggs covered in sausage mince and breadcrumbs occurred to some English people at London's posh department store Fortnum & Mason. We can only guess what combination of circumstances and train of thought had led to this invention but these days Scotch eggs are a popular party snack from Minnesota to Jaipur and from Inverness to Lagos.

For some unfathomable reason, these days it is widely considered the ultimate picnic food. It is also a permanent fixture on gastropub menus. The picture below by Guardian's David Sillitoe may explain my incredulity about the whole Scotch egg hoopla.

Bulmers: English perry

unny that I had to have the "taste of the English summer" on its last day. At least, this is how Bulmers' pear cider has been promoted for last few months. Even the absence of a TVset in my place did not save from the ubiquitous advertising.

It is not that I caved in, it's more down to abysmal choice of summer drinks in my local Sainsbury's where I have paid my first ever visit. I gave the highly cringeworthy 3-litre PET bottle of cider a wide berth and was left with the only option. Luckily, it turned out rather delightful: sweeter and milder than French poiré, Bulmers pear cider is, truth be told, easier to join in its own right.

I remember reading somewhere that the word perry is not used commercially any more because its perceived fuddy-duddiness may turn off the highly coveted youth market.

Devon clotted cream with brandy

lthough it sounds like a surefire recipe for an early heart attack, it is an indispensable ingredient for cream tea when it served on scones with jam. There is an ongoing argument whether it originates in Devon or Cornwall. One things for sure, it owes its origin to the cows of Southwest England that produce rich milk that is high in fat content.

Clotted dream is made from unpasteurized cream left for hours to allow the fat content to raise to the surface and form clots.

In the olden days when appropriate calorie intake was a problem, this was a true luxury and nutritional boost. In our days of dietary overconsumption and sedentary lifestyle, it has become a guilty pleasure. Perhaps, it would be a wise marketing move to try and come up with some other word than clotted, which brings about not particularly favourable associations, but then clotted cream would not be the same by a different name.

In Devon, clotted cream is used instead of butter with the jam spread on top of it, while in Cornwall the opposite is true.

Kipper: the original red herring

raditional English food is straightforward and quick to cook. Whether it is down to Protestantism or the busy rhythm of industrial society, I don't know. I first heard the word kipper in the famous episode of Fawlty Towers. It took 15 years before I got around to tasting it. Kipper is a herring, which, in a traditional bout of Northern European ichthyophobia , has been split from tail to head, gutted, salted, and cold smoked. As if that is not enough, the traditional recipe requires grilling it.

Although every effort seems to have been made to thrash the last whiff of the sea, the final product tastes rather nice. Before grilling, I sprinkle it with freshly ground black pepper and put a knob or butter on top. It comes out a delicious dark tan colour.

Draycott Blue cheese from Somerset

love all things obscure and bizarre. On my last forage to the Cheddar Gorge in Somersetshire, I stumbled upon this rather lovely cheese, Draycott Blue. It is named after a village where it is made, three miles from Cheddar Village.

It is made from unpasteurised milk and that is why it is not commercially available outside the area. It tasted very lovely: moderately sharp, low in salt, with a rather mild finish, resembling Bleu d'Auvergne. The only way to get hold of it without driving to Somerset is to buy it online.

On quest for real Cheddar

eneral de Gaulle once famously quipped about how France has 365 sorts of cheese while Britain has but two. In fact, while France was preserving its cheeses, Britain was busy fighting a war as a result of which (or mostly, rationing and austerity measures) the number of cheese producers tumbled from 3,500 before the war to 100 after it.

That said, English cheddar is one of the most popular cheeses in the world. To achieve this status a sacrifice was made: cheddar has lost its capital C and has become a generic name produced anywhere but the original place, the Cheddar Village in Somerset.

It is on quest for this real, AOC West Country Farmhouse Cheddar that we went there. Coincidentally, it is situated in a picturesque Cheddar Gorge, described by Robinson Crusoe's author Daniel Defoe as a "deep frightful chasm". These days it is a busy tourist attraction where real Cheddar is manufactured from the milk sourced within 80 miles from the Wells Cathedral. What makes Cheddar different from other cheeses is cheddaring, where heated curd is kneaded with salt, and of course maturing in the caves of the Cheddar Gorge.

In our age of marketing gizmos there are a slew of Cheddars with fancy and even bizarre flavours: from whiskey and cranberry to marmite and mango-and-ginger. I find it hard to buy in this gimmickery and prefer to stick to the time-proven good ole plain Cheddar. It is truly a great world cheese: pleasant to taste, versatile in use and easily recognizable.

There is an online cheddarometre that will help you determine the optimum thickness of cheese for your sandwich. If you are crazy enough to use it, enjoy!

Victoria and Albert Museum dining rooms

he dining rooms at the Victoria & Albert Museum were the first of the kind in the world. Nobody before had come up with the idea of having refreshments in a museum. To that end, there were designed three spaces: Elizabethan Green, Renaissance Centre and tiled Grill. They managed to survive the Blitz bombardments so what you get to see there is all original. Pay heed to the intricate stained glass windows exhaling the virtues of arts and crafts.

In the Victorian times, one would make do with sipping daintily on lemonade but these days you can get a full-blown meal here. And not shabby at that, as it turned out.

There are a few food stations in the airy hallway outside the rooms: sandwiches & salads, Italian, dessert, drinks and what is normally called "international", i.e., bastardised variations of French classics. We decided not to bother with lightweights from the Apennines or breads with fillings and went beeline straight for goldie oldies.

As we were in for a long day of meandering through the never-ending halls of the museum, we went for two legs: lamb's for Floyd and duck's for me. Floyd's order was oven-roasted and rosemary and garlic flavoured, and so was mine was. The difference was that the lamb was accompanied by a blob of mint sauce (far too sharp to my liking and a tad sourish on top of that), the duck was served with a piece of lovely sage stuffing. Both were served with the only choice of sides: roasted potatoes and English boiled veg. That's how you make French food "international", by stripping the finer extras.

As always, we shared our plates to be able to exchange opinions. Even Floyd, who notoriously does not usually have a good word for restaurant cooking, this time appeared content. Simplified editions as they were, both dishes tasted the way they should. No less, no more. The lamb has some fat chunks (the assistant at the counter refused to change it for a leaner piece), but well at least that is a proof the animal had been fed well.

Pro's: The atmosphere of "period" dining.
Con's: Smells like a school canteen. (Did Victorians know of air fresheners?)
In a nutshell: Robust quality classics in authentic Victorian interiors.

Feel like a real Londoner: Rock & Sole Plaice

hite-haired and softly articulate, Barry is an accomplished writer, cross-cultural trainer and broadcaster. But even more importantly, he is a born-and-bred Londoner, a rare breed these days. I couldn't think of a better person to recommend a good chippie, fish and chips shop. Today, to celebrate the last day of our training, he took us to Rock & Soul Plaice, reputedly the Big Smoke's oldest, established in 1871.

On a sunny day the pickings were slim on the terrace, but it is none less enjoyable inside thanks to the wall-size windows. There is a typical choice of deep-fried cod, halibut and skate on the menu but, on Barry's advice, I ordered a London-only treat of fish cakes and fried cod roe. It's £5.50 for one, £6.50 for two - guess how many I went for! If you order the same to take away and without chips, it's mere £1.50! Who said multinational chains have unbeatable prices?

The fish cakes are pleasantly lean and mildly herby, but I like the fried cod roe even more, it's much smoother and gentler. Although deep-fried food is by far not at the top of my list, this is probably as good this English classic ever gets.

Funnily enough, all the staff seem to be foreign in this traditional shops but then again it's typical London for you too!

Rock & Soul Plaice, 47 Endell Street, Covent Garden, London WC2H 9AJ

Café in the Crypt @ St.Martin-in-the-Fields: dining on gravestones

ired of the same ole? Why not try dining on gravestones in Central London then? Quite revealingly named Café in the Crypt at St.Martin-in-the-Fields Church offers unpretentious English classics in a basement cafeteria. This site has been a burial ground since at least 410 but the dining tables here stand on gravestones from more recent times. Weirdly enough, not a single punter seems to mind.

Olga and yours truly had there their pre-theatre dinner. Olga is fasting so she barely nibbled on some couscous. I recommend everyone to take her out: won't cost you the earth and she's delightful company! I had a ball with Today's Special: beef and turnip stew, baked rosemary potatoes and boiled red cabbage (£8.50). There is no going about the fact that traditional English food tends to be rather mucky but here good quality ingredients have redeemed it. The presentation may not have been top notch but the beef was tender, the turnips - flavourful, the potatoes - as tasty as they look on the picture and the cabbage was, well, boiled cabbage.

My starter, bean, potato and thyme soup was just the right degree of peppery and quite aromatic considered that it came from a pot that is kept warm the whole day. For the afters, I had a princely dollop of apple pudding with a ladleful of custard. The pudding crust was delightfully crunchy, the puréed apples - with just a hint of cinnamon and the custard - exactly the right degree of sweetness. Despite the volume it did not end up lying heavy on my stomach. The pudding and soup combo is priced at £5.65.

To wash it all down, we had Victorian Lemonade (a zesty concoction of ginger and lemon) and Apple and Beet Drink (an innocently bland light crimson water). Great thing about this place is that great classical music is just two flights of stairs away. I am very picky and hard to please when it comes to music but tonight's Vivaldi seemed highly conducive of good digestion!

Pro's: Great location, freaky design twist (memento the gravestones!).
Con's: The smell of boiled cabbage pervades EVERYTHING.
Summary: Simple and honest food but expect nothing fancy.

Café in the Crypt, St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Duncannon Street, London WC2N 4JJ

Breaded deep-fried English whitebait

In the olden days, members of the British Parliament would travel by water to Greenwich to mark the start of the autumn season with "whitebait feasts". Charles Dickens was known to be a fan of this traditional Thames treat too as well as his famous illustrator George Cruickshank.

These days whitebait is caught elsewhere and thanks to the miracle of refrigeration is available throughout the year, not just in season.

The cooking is quick and simple and involves breading and deep-frying. Make sure the oil is very hot so that the breading does not absorb too much oil.

Although it seems the custom to poke the fish in mayonnaise before eating to wash it down with beer, I serve it sprinkled with lemon juice with steamed young potatoes topped with chopped red onions and coriander. Not 100% English but much healthier.

For the recipe just post a request in the comments.