Fiji - home cooking

I was already looking online for recipe suggestions. Several of which involved raw fish, which was not going to happen. Then I was reminded that I worked with someone of Fijian descent! He came to me before I got the chance to find him, and he was very keen to give me some suggestions. I felt like I said "but it can't involve raw fish" seconds before he was about to suggest a raw fish recipe. To be honest, he looked disappointed.

Anyway, Leroy came up with the goods, and suggested a recipe fairly similar to one I had already found. But this one has some added bonuses. It was fried. It involved some spice. And it actually had a Fijian name, unlike the one I found online.

Of course, all of the above only happened because - perhaps unsurprisingly - there are no restaurants in London catering for the food or people of this Pacific island nation, despite a fairly sizeable community in the UK.

So it was off to the kitchen, with the mission to produce ika vakalolo - fried fish in coconut. I already knew this was going to be good.

The method for this meal is in two parts. The sauce, and the fish. And in that order. 

First for the sauce I mixed 35g of plain flour with about 200ml of coconut milk, and then added another 475ml of coconut milk into a large pot, alongside 1/2 tbsp chopped ginger and 2 crushed cloves of garlic. After adding in the flour/coconut milk mix and whisking until smooth, I then added 10 cherry tomatoes (halved), 1 chopped red chilli and 1 tbsp lemon juice. This was heated through, removed from the heat, then mixed with 25g of chopped spring onions and one head of bok choy (chopped into 6cm pieces). This was all stirred together one more time and then kept on a very low heat while the fish was prepared.

Normally I'd opt for a cheap, supermarket white fish option here, like river cobbler. But this recipe deserved more. So I went for considerably more expensive (sustainable) cod loins - two of. I drizzled these with lime juice and sprinkled sea salt, black pepper and chilli flakes. I was then supposed to dredge the fish in rice flour. I couldn't find rice flour for love nor money, and had to opt for plain flour again. I knew that the sacrifice here would be crispiness of the coating of the fish. So be it...

Once the loins were coated on both sides they were pan-fried in hot vegetable oil until cooked through - around four minutes on each side.

I served the cod on a bed of rice, topped with the lolo sauce, and garnished with some more chilli and a wedge of lime.

The verdict? The sauce was really good. It's not often I get consistency right with sauces, but this was close to perfect. Definitely not too thin. Not so thick that it was lumpy. Fairly thick. It felt right. Flavour wise, it was delicate. But with real sweetness from the coconut, citrus from the lemon, and kick from the chilli. The sweet, bitter and spice all worked really well together - it was definitely an interesting combination. Interesting in a good way.

I often overcook fish. Usually out of an abundance of caution. But the cod loins were cooked perfectly. I'll say it again - perfectly. Soft, moist, hot and tender. The coating was definitely noticeable. What it lacked in crispiness it definitely had in distinction. It's hard to pinpoint exactly which flavour came through. I guess it was the general combination of the seasoning and fried flour. 

Overall it was a really enjoyable meal - a combination of strong and distinctive flavours that I wouldn't necessarily have thought would work together. I don't often cook fish dishes, but is was one I'll remember for a while.

Ethiopia - Zeret Kitchen

Restaurant:  Zeret Kitchen

Location:  216-218 Camberwell Road, London, SE5 0ED

Date of visit:  12 August 2018

Time of visit:  6pm

Long before this project began I had been looking forward to dining in an Ethiopian restaurant. We used to live in Reading, and there was a cafe/restaurant which specialised in Ethiopian food one night a week. We didn't get the chance to go. Ten years after leaving Reading, we finally visited an Ethiopian restaurant.

And we had a choice to make, from at least a dozen Ethiopian restaurants in London. But we had to use caution. A handful of those restaurants actually advertised themselves as Eritrean. Now, from what I can gather, and for fairly obviously reasons, the cuisine of both countries is pretty much identical. But for the purposes of this project, and ticking off the countries one by one, we had to visit a restaurant which advertised as "Ethiopian". It's that kind of thing that helps me sleep at night.

We ended up going for what was the top rated Ethiopian restaurant in London on Tripadvisor (currently 2nd at time of writing). Not only that, but it was rated as the 42nd best restaurant in London, out of nearly 19,000 restaurants.

This is quite an incredible feat for a restaurant that is essentially in a housing estate between Walworth and Camberwell, not close enough to either area's main street to claim that it's centrally located. The restaurant itself is set off the main road, within a 60s or 70s built shopping parade. Definitely easy to miss if just passing by. And in fact even as we got to the outside of the restaurant, it didn't look particularly open. The door was open, but the lights were off. I could see people inside, but I was worried they'd had a power cut.

Regardless, we went in. I had booked a table for two, but the restaurant was so quiet I decided it would be pointless to mention that, and just asked for a table for two. The waitress sat us by the window, which was the only source of light into the restaurant. All of a sudden the lack of artificial light didn't seem so strange. It almost created a pleasant atmosphere, which was later accentuated by the appearance of candles on the tables.

Menus arrived rather promptly - two printed sheets each, one with the food menu, and one with the drinks. The menus differed in places compared to the rather dated sample menu on the website, but that was still helpful as a preview before arriving at the restaurant. There was a small selection of side and vegan dishes, and various meat dishes - mostly lamb and beef. The food menu was rounded off with details of their combination offers. The drinks menu offered a selection of beers (some Ethiopian), soft drinks, hot drinks and wine (including tej - Ethiopian wine). And, of course, Ethiopian coffee.

During research before the visit I discovered that some dishes, particularly gored gored, and kitfo dishes, were traditionally prepared with raw minced beef. I wasn't sure if that was how it would be prepared here, especially as there was no mention of this hardly small detail on the menu. But I had already decided, mostly to save my own embarrassment, that I was going to go for something else. I suggested Elle did the same. With hindsight I'm a little disappointed in myself for that. Why didn't I just go for it? Or at least ask for more details?!

Anyway, we both ended up going for the same dish - beef wot: a rich, spicy beef and onion stew. Having visited an Eritrean restaurant very recently, we both knew what to expect with regards to the format of this meal, specifically the fact it would be served on injera - a thick, light, spongy sourdough bread. The waitress asked if we were going to share the bread, which definitely seems like the thing to do.

To drink, we both went for a bottle of Meta lager, brewed and bottled in Addis Ababa.

As we waited, we began to enjoy the dark but pleasant atmosphere, and the music which was a mix of traditional Ethiopian folk music and Ethiopian jazz; a style for which the country is very well known. The scent of incense started wafting in from somewhere. Later, this was mixed with the familiar aroma of roasting coffee beans, something I remembered from the Eritrean restaurant. You suddenly forget you're in a parade of shops in South London. You've been transported.

I'm not sure how long it took before the food came out, but I certainly didn't think at any point that it was taking a while. And when it came, it really was a sight to behold. It really is like nothing else. And this is where comparisons to the Eritrean restaurant continued, as - of course - both dishes were served on injera. As you can tell from the picture above, only a little of the main dish was served atop the bread. As seen in the middle. Either side of that was the spicy lentil side dish and, 90 degrees away, a couple of bunches of fresh, crisp side salad. 

The rest of the beef wot came in two separate bowls, from which we would later spoon more on to the bread. The second bread was rolled into several rolls, and presented in a small basket. And this was the big difference compared to the Eritrean restaurant. It might have been an oversight, but sharing the injera last time meant we were only served one bread. If we had somehow insisted we were not sharing, we would have been served two injera. At the same cost. Surely an oversight?

Here, however, we had one injera already presented, and the other one rolled up and ready to go. We were not going to leave here hungry.

The beef wot was fantastic. Very oily, as is the style. But so rich, with a real deep spice. Initially subtle, but it grows and grows. The beef was so soft and tender, and full of flavour. The side salad was very fresh and very welcoming, as was the sweet spiciness of the lentil puree. 

The bread to meat/sauce ratio was starting to become very imbalanced. But before Elle and I even had the chance to vocalise that point to each other, the waitress came with another basket full of rolled injera. That was the moment this already great experience became fantastic. Superb, attentive service. Straight away we knew we weren't going to be able to finish all the bread, but I'd much rather leave some of that than struggle to finish a spicy meat stew without any bread or cutlery!

One thing that really stood out was the beer. I'm not a huge believer in food-drinks pairing, especially when it comes to beer. But the Meta lager we chose complimented the food so well. I really mean that. I guess it makes sense for a lager brewed in the capital city of a country to go down well with one of that country's national dishes! But it is definitely a point worth noting.

As is the fact that this style of eating is tremendously messy, especially for the first time. No cutlery in sight. You're using the bread to pick up and scoop up the meat and sauce. Lots of sauce. We were more prepared for it this time, after the visit to the Eritrean restaurant, but I think it would take several more visits to develop any kind of a successful graceful technique. Thankfully, the waitress kept us supplied with wads of tissues!

By the time the meal was done, we were both absolutely stuffed. Another comparison made to the Eritrean restaurant; after that we effectively had another meal later that evening. No chance of that this time around! 

It did take a little bit of time for us to get the chance to ask for the bill, but by this time the restaurant had filled out quite a bit. This wasn't a problem as we didn't really feel like moving any time soon anyway.

It's quite an understated restaurant - inside and out - but the quality of the food and the service might explain why the restaurant rates as one of London's finest. 

Estonia - home cooking

Due to life getting in the way, progress of this project - once again - has been very slow of late. But finally, just a couple of weeks ago, a spare few hours on a Sunday afternoon resulted in the next country being ticked off the list. This time, Estonia. When I first considered how we would achieve this country, I just assumed I would have no problem finding an Estonian restaurant in London.

If we had reached Estonia several years ago, which we really should have done, then my assumption would have been absolutely correct. However, in the summer of 2018, there are no Estonian restaurants in operation. There are several Baltic and Russian-influenced restaurants in the city, but none - to the best of my knowledge - that offered any decent range of specifically Estonian dishes. So it was back to the kitchen...

Meat features heavily in Estonian cuisine, as does fish. Much of the food found in Estonia is similar to other countries in the region - potatoes, cheese, herbs, sauerkraut. It has been influenced by other Baltic countries as much as Nordic countries, and Russia. Finding a meal to cook was a little tricky. I didn't fancy any of fish dishes, and some of the meat dishes were, shall we say, "exotic". Including cuts of animal that I neither knew were to find, nor wanted to try in any case. Eventually, the same dish appeared across various sources that ticked all the boxes for me. Frikadellisupp. Estonian meatball soup.

The particular recipe I went for was to serve six, and didn't provide any problems when it came to sourcing any of the ingredients in my local supermarket.

Step one was, of course, to prepare the meatballs. They were a combination of 560g of minced beef (full fat... no lean mince here!), 3 tablespoons of dried breadcrumbs, 1 egg (beaten), 2 tablespoons of sour cream, 1.5 tablespoons of Worcestershire sauce, a pinch of ground black pepper, 0.5 teaspoon of salt, and 2 tablespoons of finely chopped fresh dill.

We're not massive fans of dill in this household, which I gather is a widely shared opinion. However, I couldn't omit it from this meal, as it is a signature part of the dish.

All those ingredients were mixed well together to form the meatball combination. One massive meatball, if you will. It's important now that this mixture is left to settle for half an hour or so. This softens the meatballs, which helps bind them together when rolled out. I also think that choosing non-lean minced meat helped with that.

Part of that "bonding" time can now be used to prepare the other ingredients for the soup - 1.5 litres of beef broth (I used four stock cubes), 1 large potato (peeled and diced) and 1 large carrot (peeled and diced).

Once the meatball mixture had been sitting for half an hour, it was time to hand-roll it out into meatballs. The idea was to create meatballs around 0.75 inches wide. I found that particularly difficult, and they ended up being a bit larger. It was probably just as well...

You're looking at dozens of meatballs. My mind was then troubled with two questions. One: how are these going to cook through sufficiently now that they're almost twice the size they should be? And two: how the hell am I going to get all these, and all the other ingredients, into one pot?

Anyway, time would tell. I started to heat the broth, and added the potato, carrot and a couple of tablespoons of uncooked long grain rice. And then the meatballs. One by one. I took care to make sure each one had sufficient space, and that they weren't sticking together. To be honest, when I dropped them in they each buried themselves quite nicely into the veg that I had added previously. By the time I had dropped them all in and stirred the pot, the outside of the meatballs had already started to cook, so they no longer stuck together.

The soup was then boiled rapidly for 10 minutes, and then brought down to a delicate simmer for a further half an hour. And it was done! Time to serve.

Rye bread is popular in Estonia. To the best of my knowledge the country has it's own twist on the bread, which is darker (sometimes known as "black bread"). I decided to serve the soup with slices of rye bread widely available in my local supermarket, for that "almost authentic" touch.

Despite being quite firm and stodgy, the rye bread worked well with the soup - softening well enough and taking in a lot of the soup, but nowhere near falling apart. I was quite surprised at how soft, almost melt-in-the-mouth, the meatballs were. I have a habit of overcooking meat out of an abundance of caution, but the consistency of these meatballs was perfect. The meatballs themselves were really nice - the dill was by no means overpowering. The pepper, Worcestershire sauce and even the sour cream came through very well.

The rest of the ingredients, especially the potatoes and the rice, coupled with the abundance of meatballs, meant this was a very wholesome soup. The potatoes and carrots were a simple but effective, recognisable touch. The soup was a little oily on the surface. This was probably the decision to buy non-lean minced meat coming back to bite me on the arse. Or it may just have been the fact I neglected to skim the soup before serving. But it certainly didn't ruin the meal.

It was probably the worst kind of meal for the middle of the most consistently hot summer London has ever seen. But it was very enjoyable. I'm sure this would even more be the case during an Estonian winter.

Eritrea - Adulis

Restaurant:  Adulis

Location:  44-46 Brixton Road, London, SW9 6BT

Date of visit:  24 February 2018

Time of visit:  7.30pm

It was back in the hot summer of 2017 when we last visited an actual restaurant on this project - partially due to the countries between Egypt and Eritrea, and partially due to life getting in the way. But Eritrea was one I was looking forward to. I had no doubt we'd have a selection of restaurants to choose from. And I was planning to ask my Eritrean colleague for his favourite restaurant. That was going to be good enough for me.

There are indeed a handful of Eritrean restaurants around London, some specifically Eritrean in nature, and some more broadly offering food from the Horn of Africa. A quick search online shows that the small Adulis chain of restaurants comes up on top. They have three branches, all in South London. And my colleague quickly recommend the Oval branch, which he visits often. I wasn't going to look any further.

He gave me two pieces of advice. Order only one meal each, the bread is very filling. And don't try the wine.

I booked earlier in the week via their website for the coming Saturday evening at 7pm. Unfortunately we were hit by some delays on the journey across London, but a quick courtesy phone call to rearrange our reservation to 7.30pm was well received by the restaurant.

When we arrived, however, I'm not certain we were even down on the reservation book. Giving my name, and checking the book, lasted just a few seconds too long for it to start getting awkward. Rather than make a fuss, the man who greeted us let us proceed into the restaurant and to a table.

Straight away, the first thing you experience - and in large amounts - is the incredible smell. Of red meat and ground spices. A real earthy, grilled, roasted smell. It was more than inviting. If I could buy that in a spray... The restaurant was also really quite large in size, but still cosy. It was almost full, comfortably warm, and well decorated. The lighting was perfect. 

As soon as we were taken to the table, we were handed the menus which differed from the menu on their website only in price, and only ever so slightly. When a restaurant is as busy as this was, it can go two ways. Either the staff are so overworked that service is slow. Or, as they want to make tables available as soon as possible, service is particularly fast. I definitely got a sense of the latter. It wasn't distracting, or unpleasant. But it felt like a thing.

As such, only a few minutes later we were being attended to again, and being asked what we wanted to order. Just as well we had already checked the menu in-depth online!

Elle had a question about the platter for one (she originally wanted us to share a platter for two, but I really wanted one full main dish), regarding what variety of dishes made up the platter. The menu says "Assorted meat dishes selected by our Head Chef." Unfortunately the response from the waiter was no more informative. "It's beef and lamb". That cleared that up...

That's not to say the service was poor, it wasn't at all, but we were looking for just a little more than that! Regardless, Elle took the plunge and ordered the platter, and I went for the beef zighni - "spicy hot beef slowly cooked to blend with the rich combination of spices and chilli". It always makes me laugh when a waiter replies to such an order with "you know that's spicy?". It's funny because a) it says so on the menu, and b) that's exactly why I'm ordering it!

We both ordered our meals with injera, traditional Eritrean bread, rather than rice. To drink, we both ordered a bottle of the Eritrean lager "Asmara", which thankfully they had in stock.

At this point we got to enjoy the environs a little more. It really was a very pleasant restaurant to be in. A very vibrant, but hardly chaotic, atmosphere. Very authentic decor, with large illustrated walls, hanging wooden paintings and other wooden decorative items. Very warm, subtle lighting. During our visit, there was an elderly lady roasting what I believe were coffee beans in a tin pot. Eventually, she would do a lap of honour around the restaurant, with the pot of beans. Shaking the pot, thrusting the pot towards each table of diners for a few seconds with a large, proud smile on her face, before moving on to the next table. I'm not entirely sure what the purpose of this was, but it was enjoyable to watch!

We only had to wait around 10 minutes before the food arrived. No beer yet, so we asked again for those. The waiter asked us if we were planning to share. Elle said yes. I got confused and said no. I don't do sharing. Then I looked at the huge plate in front of us and realised what he meant. The entire base of a large silver serving dish was covered with the injera, and Elle's meal was placed on one side of it. My meal was still in a bowl, and once I realised what was actually going on, he emptied the bowl onto the other side of the injera.

It was quite an awesome sight. If you didn't already know what it was, you'd have thought the waiter had just dumped a couple of curries on top of a soft towel! The injera was like nothing else I had ever seen, touched or tasted before. It was amazingly soft. Spongey soft. Like a huge, thick crumpet. But spongier. And softer.

There wasn't a knife, fork or spoon to be seen. The idea, as is traditional, is to rip off a piece of the injera and to use that to scoop up and eat the meat and sauce. This was going to get messy! What didn't help is that we were given no napkins, so we had to ask.

After the initial impressions of the injera mentioned above, the next surprise was that it was quite cold. I imagine this is the way it was supposed to be, but I expected it to be at least a little warm. In any case, we began to attempt this meal. The injera did a fairly good job at being an implement with which to eat, although as the main dishes - particularly mine - were quite saucy and greasy, the bread started to suffer. I wouldn't say it started to go soggy. It was just the tiniest degree away from soggy. I think "sodden" is a better word. The bread was very porous, allowing a whole lot of sauce and grease to become part of it. So it ended up quite sloppy.

But this was simply a practical issue. As for the food itself, my dish was rich, deep in flavour... earthy is the word that came to mind. The ground spices were deep, heavy in flavour, and added a lovely warm spice. After the warning I was given, the spiciness wasn't up with what I was expecting. But it was a decent, long-lasting warmth. There wasn't a huge amount of meat, but the chunks of beef that were present were melt in the mouth soft, not too fatty at all. Reminiscent of a South Asian beef curry, but with a bit more depth.

As for Elle's meal, we ran in to the problem which deterred me from going along with the platter. We didn't really know what it was! There were five, distinct selections of meat with sauce. One was definitely the same as my meal, beef zighni. There was a minced meat dish, a lamb and spinach dish (sigha tibsi ms hamli?), chicken in a yellow creamy sauce (dorho?) and beef and carrot. The five dishes were served side by side, and overall looked to be a slightly smaller portion than mine - but maybe more meat than sauce, unlike my dish. Generally each dish stood out and were all really enjoyable.

The lager, Asmara, was brewed in the Eritrean capital and imported by a British company. And I have to say, it was one of the best imported lagers I've had in quite a while. Real great flavour, very refreshing and quite distinctive. Definitely worth looking out for.

Overall, this was a really good experience. We can forgive the few lapses in attention to detail in the service, as everything else made up for it. The meal was satisfying. Not massively filling, and maybe a little pricey at £33 all in, including the drinks. But the quality was high.

I suppose the main complaint was that the whole experience lasted barely 55 minutes. Absolutely nobody's fault, as such. It's just unfortunate there wasn't really the option to stay a little longer and buy another drink. But I was aware that we were taking up a valuable table in a restaurant which was now almost completely full. And full for good reason.

Equatorial Guinea - home cooking

It took me a while to accept that this was going to happen. Firstly, that succotash was more than just a Looney Tunes reference. Secondly, that a dish popular in North America was the national dish of a West African nation.

Turns out, both are true. 

One thing that was fairly certain - there were no Equatorial Guinean restaurants in London. I did check to see if any London restaurants were offering succotash on their menus. To be honest, a couple were. My brief research flagged up a couple of seemingly high-end restaurants offering succotash as part of a starter. More like a succotash relish or accompaniment. And certainly more of a North American adaptation rather than African. So it was time to get back in the kitchen.

Quite how succotash became the national dish in Equatorial Guinea would likely be a complicated story. I admit I've tried to find some explanations online, and can only really come up with the likelihood that it was Spanish immigrants who brought the dish to these West African shores. Perhaps that's how the dish ended up in North America too. Anyway, I was cooking it now before someone could suggest it was just one big hoax and ruin this part of the project.

The dish is based around lima beans, corn and fresh herbs. I wasn't entire sure what lima beans were, and therefore how easy it was going to be to find some. So I was relieved to find that lima beans and butter beans are roughly one and the same. And my go-to supermarket stocked the latter. 

As for corn, I cut a corner here. The recipe I used mentioned fresh corn. Lots of it. The only corn I could find were fresh corn-on-the cobs. I couldn't even try and guess how many of those I would have needed to take a knife to in order to collect half a kilogram of fresh corn.

So I bought tins of sweetcorn. Go ahead and judge.

Preparation of the dish is largely simple, with a few intricacies which I'm sure actually make a big difference. Time wasn't really on my side this Sunday afternoon, and I'm not a fan of soaking beans for days on end either, so I flash soaked 400g of butter beans. By which I mean I boiled the beans for two minutes, removed from the heat, and left to soak for nearly one and a half hours. The beans were actually popping when boiling, which I guess was the beans suddenly expanding and popping out of the thick skin around the bean. This didn't have any negative side effect on the dish overall. It didn't get mushy.

I then drained and rinsed the beans, and boiled them again, this time with a clove of garlic, half an onion and some fresh thyme sprigs, for twenty minutes. Then I removed the onion and thyme (I couldn't find the garlic clove!), drained the beans but reserved 200ml of the liquid, and set the beans aside. 

The next part is optional. This would have been a vegetarian dish, were it not for the suggestion (non-traditional, I'd imagine) of adding crispy bacon to the dish. I was absolutely up for doing this. I fried three bacon rashers until very crispy, set these aside on some kitchen paper, and then fried a chopped sweet onion in the bacon fat. This is one of those small details which I think really added to the dish, and would have been missing completely had I decided not to use bacon at all. Which is a ridiculously obvious statement to make. What I mean is, aside from the bacon itself, frying the onion in the bacon fat added so much to the dish. Especially as sweet onion, by nature, isn't particularly flavoursome.

I then added around 500g of drained tinned sweetcorn and about 10 halved cherry tomatoes, followed by the cooked beans and the reserved cooking liquid.

At this point, as I could tell the beans were still a little hard - a side effect of the flash soaking, I imagine - I rapidly cooked the whole mixture. There was no risk of burning or dehydration as there was a good bit of liquid to play with. After about 10 minutes of that, I added a couple of tablespoons of butter, some chopped chives and dill and a tablespoon of red wine vinegar. Finally, a sprinkle of salt and pepper and the crisp bacon, crumbled. A good mix together, and the dish was good to serve.

I wrongly assumed that the dish would almost be like a soup, and had bought some bread as an accompaniment. It wasn't at all. It wasn't dry by any means, but there was certainly no excess liquid. In fact, it was perfect. Beans, vegetables and bacon in a luxurious but sparse buttery glazey gravy. That's the best way I can describe it.

Overall, it was a seriously enjoyable, very wholesome dish. The beans were still a little under-cooked in places - again, mostly due to technique (an overnight soak would get around this). Flavour wise, nothing really stood out too much over anything else. The butter was ever-present and very enjoyable. The bacon flavour was very much there, thanks to the bacon itself, but almost more so the fried sweet onions. The tomatoes and sweetcorn were almost refreshing - crisp, sweet and a lovely contrast to the mostly soft, carby beans.

This is a perfect, one-bowl complete meal which went down very well on this cold, winter night in London. Which is strange, as Equatorial Guinea isn't known for its cold winter nights. But I don't write the rules.

El Salvador - collection from chef

We've been doing this project for over eight years now. Yes, I know the fact we are still on the latter "E" is embarrassing. But that's not the point. For the last eight years we've either visited a restaurant (or small cafe) or cooked a traditional meal from the relevant country.

Never have I arranged on the internet to meet a female stranger in a London train station, to give money to in return for a bag of goods. Until now.

I didn't expect to find a restaurant for El Salvador in London. Although while I was searching for such a thing I did come across some evidence of a sizeable Salvadoran community in and around London. That's how I stumbled upon the Facebook page of Adelina. Some of her "Cuzcatlan" page on Facebook is in Spanish, and some in English. But what she offers is clear. Personal deliveries of Salvadoran cuisine on a regular basis.

This went against how this project has run in the past. There was no restaurant to visit. Which is when I usually find a recipe for the national dish - in this case "pupusas" - and make it myself. Why on earth would I do that when Adelina, a native of El Salvador, can do it properly?!

So I messaged her on Facebook, briefly explained why a Scotsman was asking her about her pupusas (this was the first time I had ever mentioned this blog to anyone who was about to serve me) and how I could arrange to collect some. By chance, she was already planning to carry out a few deliveries in London the following day. Her response to me was lengthy, including the different varieties of pupusas available, what it comes with, and the cost.

A pupusa, by the way, is a filled corn tortilla - stuffed with a savoury filling of one, some or all of a variety of meat, cheese and beans. All Adelina needed to know was what I wanted inside the pupusas. I ordered the minimum amount, 10 pupusas, all mixed - pork, cheese and beans - which came to £20. I also asked her how to cook them, store them and how long they could be kept for. She was very responsive to all my questions. We swapped numbers, and the deal was on.

The following day I arrived at Victoria Train Station at the arranged time of 5pm. To be perfectly honest, despite her clear instructions about where to find her, I wandered around aimlessly for 5 to 10 minutes! After calling me on the phone, she managed to direct me to where she was sitting. We greeted each other, she gave me a heavy, full carrier bag of food, and I gave her £20. We both sat down and chatted for ten minutes or so. I told her more about this blog and the project in general. She told me about her and family, her background, and the Salvadoran community in London. On departing, I promised her that I would send her the link to this review. I didn't tell her it would have been over four months before it was published (this all happened in September 2017 - sorry!).

The next evening I followed Adelina's instructions, by warming the pupusas in a frying pan for a few minutes on each side. Each pupusa was quite sizeable - I could only really warm two at a time, so once they had been warmed I put them in the oven to keep them warm whilst adding two more to the pan. Judging by the size, I decided Elle and I would have three each.

As the photo at the top of this review shows, the pupusas also came with two more things. A tangy tomato salsa, and curtido - a spicy, lightly-fermented cabbage relish/slaw. 

So, to the dinner table. The pupusas themselves were very satisfying. Probably more tortilla than filling. But the filling was fantastic. Small cubes of pork in a very wholesome refried beans mash, with a very distinctive toasted/roasted cheese flavour coming through. A very filling meal. Three pupusas was a struggle - mostly because of how heavy and filling they were, but also due to them being slightly greasy. But not unappealingly so.

The curtido was fantastic. Very unique. Some liken it to sauerkraut or kimchi, and I can see why. But this was different. It was so fresh, and the spicy kick to it was almost strange. It was as slight as it was punchy. Very much there, but not overpowering. Together with the very refreshing, flavoursome salsa and the filling pupusas made this a hugely enjoyable, authentic and very satisfying meal.

On telling people about this at work the following day, one of my colleagues went straight onto Facebook to order some for himself. I urge you to do the same at https://en-gb.facebook.com/cuzcatlan.co.uk/

UPDATE - November 2023:  As part of trying to find Guatemalan food, we actually ended going to a Salvadorian restaurant which didn't exist when we originally reached "El Salvador" in 2018. This restaurant served the national dish of Guatemala, but also served traditional Salvadorian pupusas. Even though we "ticked the box" with the review above, we couldn't pass the opportunity to finally experience Salvadorian food in a Salvadorian restaurant. Below is an except from that review:

"The restaurant clearly specialised in pupusas, referring to itself as a "pupuseria" on its website, and a hard-to-miss neon sign in the window demanding "EAT MY PUPUSA". There are eight different pupusas offered, with a mix of a few key ingredients - black beans, cheese, pork and jalapenos. We went for two of the pupusas stuffed with all four ingredients. They were excellent. Very fresh, hot and filling. The cheese was very firm and stringy, with minced pork and jalapenos on top of the cheese. The pupusas were topped with pumpkin seeds and fresh chopped coriander and served with curtido - a pickled fermented salad - and spicy tomato salsa which were fantastic accompaniments."