Burkina Faso - home cooking

I came across a few issues this time round. The most familiar issue was not being able to find a restaurant in London that served the food of Burkina Faso. I did make a point in checking pan-African restaurants that may have a dish or two from the country, but that search was fruitless. 

The second issue was not so common, and dependent on region. In this case, it was the difficulty in finding a dish which was specific to the country, a country which finds itself in a larger region which shares many common traditional dishes - West Africa.

Finally, the third issue, a completely personal one, was neglecting to use an ingredient I bought. A crucial one.

Dealing with issue one is easy. It's time to get back in the kitchen. The second issue took a bit of time. I finally settled on a dish which I couldn't relate to any other country - munyu caf couscous, a meat, tomato and peanut stew. I also decided to serve it with a side dish of Boussan touba - black eyed pea fritters.

For the main, I used lamb as the meat as it is more traditional than chicken or beef, but it would work with those too (in fact, I think it would go better with chicken). I browned half a kg of diced lamb, then added 2 crushed tomatoes, 1 small chopped onion and a good teaspoon of tomato puree. After mixing this I added enough water to cover the mixture in the pot, then added the majority of a jar of smooth peanut butter, mixed until melted. Finally, I threw in one third of a chopped cabbage and one small chopped aubergine. Stir, cover and simmer for an hour.

In the meantime, it was time to get to the side dish. It was all about to go wrong.

I started with half a pound of black eyed peas, and cooked these in boiling water for forty minutes, after which I pounded into a mush. I pureed half an onion and one carrot together and added to the beans and mixed well to create a wet dough. After a generous seasoning of salt and pepper it was time to try and actually create the "fritters".

The trick was to try and create golf ball sized balls of dough. This was disastrous. The mixture was too wet, and just broke apart.

I did manage to get a fairly full frying pan of the Boussan touba on the go, fried one on side for five minutes before turning over and frying on the other side. Disaster. They just broke apart on any attempt to turn them over. Into bits. Many bits. Eventually I lost the plot and just mixed the contents of the pan together to great some kind of Boussan touba hash and fried this.

Luckily, I had only used half of the mixture so far. So I decided to take a different approach and bake the rest in the oven. This was a little more successful, but ended up with a product that was drier than a camel's arse.

Anyway, back to the main dish - surely I wasn't going to mess THAT up too. Thankfully not, it was coming along nicely, if a little too watery. I had to turn the heat up considerably to get rid of some of the excess, although I was keeping in mind that as the stew was largely peanut butter it was bound to thicken on cooling.

Just before the main was of a decent consistency, I threw on some cous cous to cook, then made this into a bed on the plate onto which I spooned the munya caf.

The verdict? Unusual. No flavour was particularly overpowering. Not even moderately. I was pleased that the peanut influence was in no way strong. It maybe could have done with a little more salt. The lamb was cooked perfectly, but I can't say the flavour of the lamb added anything to the sauce. It wasn't an unpleasant meal at all, but it didn't really scream of anything. Other than calories. God only knows how many calories.

The Boussan touba wasn't a complete disaster. The fritters were actually quite tasty, with a flavour that wasn't familiar to me. But as I mentioned before very very dry. Very dry. As I mulled over with Elle what went wrong, the sudden realisation set in. The eggs. The eggs I bought. All six were still on the fridge. Eggs are a key ingredient into binding any kind of mixture to cook with. Binding was the one big thing missing from this meal!

It's a bit of a feature of mine when it comes to cooking. Missing important items. In my defence the recipe I was working from listed eggs in the ingredients, then neglected to say what to do with them in the method. Doesn't take a genius to work out what part they were supposed to play though. A genius I am not. Nor am I a chef really.

Bulgaria - Black Sea Restaurant, E15

Restaurant:  Black Sea 

Location:  81 Portway Road, Stratford E15 3QJ

Date of visit:  3 May 2015

Time of visit:  6pm

Our latest restaurant adventure took us to East London, to one of a handful of cafes and restaurants catering for the Bulgarian community. A quick search online flagged up that the Black Sea restaurant was clearly the best of the lot. And off we went.

The restaurant is halfway between Stratford and Plaistow stations and is housed in a building that was almost certainly a pub in a former life. And like some pubs in quiet communities, we walked in to an initially uncomfortable welcome. Almost the stereotypical "turns the place silent, someone drops a glass in shock, tumbleweed" scenario. It seemed clear that we weren't Bulgarian. And that people who aren't Bulgarian rarely walk through the doors. It's the kind of situation I expected long before now on this project.

Anyway, it turned out that the cold welcome came from some customers - nothing harsh, just a look of bemusement... a long look - which was also down to a bit of bad timing resulting in Elle asking one of them asking if they had a table for two. That didn't help. He just ignored her, walked past us and went back to his table.

Once the waiter realised that we knew we hadn't walked into the pub-that-was by mistake, he gestured us to take any table (most were empty) and we took our seats.

The menus were quickly forthcoming, and the selection was extensive. It took a little time to take in exactly what was on offer. It was a little unusual in that many of the appetisers were considerably more expensive than some mains. There was also a large selection of non-Bulgarian dishes such as spaghetti bolognese and general meat dishes. If these were given a particularly authentic national twist, then it wasn't obvious.

Always one to try and get as much out of this experience as possible, I went for two of the most traditional dishes I could find. To start I went for the tarator soup - a cold yoghurt and cucumber soup. The waiter warned me that the soup was cold. In fairness, this was made clear in the menu which said it was a "cold soup". I went for the pork kavarma as a main, a traditional Bulgarian stew. The waiter recommended that I didn't need anything to accompany this by way of a side dish.

Elle picked a starter of "fried potato and cheese" - no other description was given although the waiter seemed a bit surprised at the choice. Some of the dishes on the menu were illustrated with a photograph of the dish. This was one of them. Although nothing in the photo was recognisable, it looked good whatever it was. For main she went for Bulgarian grilled sausage.

It's worth pointing out at this stage that Elle asked the waiter for information of several of the mains on the menu, which he was happy to do. But it was here that we discovered that a fair section of the menu was unavailable.

Unfortunately there was also no draft beer available but we did order a bottle of Kamenitza beer each, which is one of the most popular beers in Bulgaria. 

It's usually at this point, whilst waiting for the food to arrive, that I take in, and take notes on, the surroundings. The restaurant, quite sizable, was decorated in traditional Bulgarian fabrics. Some Bulgarian pop music played throughout the evening, and Spanish football was airing on a Bulgarian TV channel in the corner.

The wait for the food to come wasn't too long at all. The soup appeared exactly as I expected it to. Elle's fried potatoes and cheese? Chips and cheese. It was a plate of chips and cheese. I'm guessing this isn't a traditional dish. The waiter's reaction when this was ordered was a little unusual but at no point did he warn us that it was chips and cheese.

I actually realise now that, for the purposes of this review, I forgot to ask Elle how her starter was. I can probably guess. However, if anything was unusual about her starter it was the cheese. It was a kind of grated cream cheese, with a really distinctive sour, bitter salty taste. Like goats cheese but much more intense. Looking it up now, it was most likely sirene cheese - popular in the Bulgarian and in South Eastern Europe in general. So there is some national flavour right there!

My soup was surprisingly good. It was indeed cold. It was also a substantial portion in a deep bowl. The main base of the soup was thin yogurt, with a good helping of chopped cucumber and thyme. Initially I thought I would struggle to eat much of it, but it was very enjoyable and surprisingly light.

Very little time passed before the mains arrived. My kavarma came in a medium sized ceramic pot which was incredibly hot. The stew itself was molten hot. Now I realised why the waiter also gave me a sideplate and a spoon. If it stayed in the pot I'm sure my food would have stayed piping hot until the end of eternity! The stew is cooked in the pot, which was filled with lovely chunks of pork, egg, mushroom and onion in a lovely oily but flavoursome sauce.

Elle's grilled sausage was fairly typical of the region, almost shish kebabesque in presentation. It was presented with a side of chips and some sliced tomato and cucumber. The vegetables were incredibly fresh and ample in portion.

Both meals were a good size, leaving no room for dessert (as is usual). However there was always going to be room for my planned digestif - Bulgarian rakiya. It took a disappointingly long time to be served for dessert/drinks, especially as we had been given the menus again. When we finally got the waiter's attention we ordered a pomorie rakiya each, a popular fruit brandy of the region. It came as a double measure in a small glass and seemed to be extremely strong! Warming as it went down, so say the least! A good way to end a decent meal.

The entire meal and drinks cost £34 which is really good in our eyes. No doubt the Black Sea restaurant is invaluable to the Bulgarian community of East London. But it was the first time we felt any real awkwardness in a restaurant on this project. It wasn't unpleasant by any means, and it was definitely worth the trip.

Brunei - Home cooking

For many smaller countries I expected finding a true national dish specific to that one individual nation a bit tricky. That was certainly the case when it came to Brunei. First, of course, I tried to find a restaurant in London that served food that was specifically from Brunei. I found none. I then tried to find a true, national dish for the country. I found none.

However, it became clear that the national dish is actually Malaysian in origin. My loose rules for this project is that if there is nothing specific to the country itself, then the most popular dish - regardless of the origin - would suffice. However, I decided that we would NOT, for instance, go to a Malaysian restaurant for Brunei. No restaurant for Brunei means home cooking, regardless of what I end up cooking.

Anyway, when that pedantic debate in my head came to an end it was time to find the best recipe for the meal I had settled on. Beef rendang.

It had been a while since I had cooked anything like a curry, so the prospect of this meal excited me. I like how intricate the steps are, and how many small but effective ingredients are used. This was no different!

The first step was to prepare a base paste for the sauce. This is formed of a chopped onion, some chopped ginger, garlic, lemongrass, dried red chillies and some turmeric, blended to a paste. Galangal is also supposed to feature, but I was unable to find any during my preceding shopping trip.

The paste was then fried until the aromas started to fill the room, to which cardamom pods and a cinnamon stick were added for extra flavour. At this point, the meat was added. I used casserole beef as the meat is cooked slowly for some time, plus the extra fat would be ideal for the sauce. The meat is just browned at this point to lock in the juices.

A tin of coconut milk is added at this point, followed by some kaffir lime leaves and the zest of one lime. (You can see now what I mean about lots of little but effective ingredients!).

At this point the mixture was seasoned, stirred, reduced to a simmer and left to do so for ninety minutes. It's important to stir regularly during cooking to reduce sticking and ensure even cooking. I had to add some extra water every now and then to avoid it getting too dry.

Just before this time was over, I then toasted some coconut flakes, crushed these to a coarse powder and stirred this into the mixture. This is what made it special.

Alongside this I also prepared some fragrant rice to go with it. For this, I fried a cinnamon stick and some cardamom pods then added the raw rice, which I fried in some oil until the grains started to turn opaque. At this point the appropriate water was added, as was some salt. Then I brought it water to the boil until most of the water was absorbed, which is when the lid was placed on the pot to retain the remaining moisture. This was left to stand for five minutes. When serving, the rice was garnished with fresh coriander, fried shallots and some chillies.

This meal was every bit as lovely as it was expected to be. The beef rendang had a lovely consistency, helped hugely by the coconut that was mixed through it. The beef itself was beautifully soft, and very lean. The fat from the meat played a huge part in how great the sauce was. The flavour of the lime and lemongrass was present, but in no way overpowering. The balance of flavours throughout was perfect.

I just need to remember not to go for beef rendang again when we get to Malaysia!

Brazil - Rodizio Preto, SW19

Restaurant:  Rodizio Preto

Location:  44 The Broadway, London, SW19 1RQ


Date of visit:  Sunday 2 November 2014


Time of visit:  7pm


Nine years ago Elle and I enjoyed our first long-haul holiday in a far away land, spending two weeks in the north of the Dominican Republic. The hotel had an incredible selection of high quality all-inclusive restaurants, one of which was "Brazilian". We were in our early twenties and had no idea what to expect.

Meat. Lots and lots of meat. Unlimited meat. Followed by even more meat. It made a lasting impression.

Now I realise that kind of restaurant is known as a "rodizio" grill. Meat on skewers. I didn't need any convincing that this was the way to go when we hit Brazil on this project.

We invited two friends, Miles and Jen, to experience this evening with us. After mulling over the fair number of choices in London, we opted for the Wimbledon branch of the small Rodizio Preto chain.

The website does a good job of explaining how the restaurant works. The "si/nao" card is key.

This is your control over proceedings. Hungry? Turn it to the green "si" side. Need some time to digest? "Nao" for now.

Simple. Time to begin. Straight away we knew not to fall into the trap of piling our plates full of the unlimited "salad bar". A really extensive selection too. Salad, lasagne (cold and hard), rice (several types), beans (several types again), chips, nachos and much more. 

Service was very quick. As soon as we sat down, our drinks order was taken, and we were ready to go. Within seconds, the meat began.

Rump steak. Rib meat. Sirloin steak. Garlic steak. Chicken leg (spicy and not spicy), sausage. Lamb. Topside beef. Chicken hearts.

Chicken hearts. Actual chicken hearts. Quite clearly hearts of chickens when you see them speared on the skewer. There was no way I was doing that. Miles did. I can't remember if he was positive in his review of eating the heart of a chicken (an actual chicken's heart) or not. I was too busy trying to ignore the whole thing.

The meats were all really pretty good, and unlimited right enough. The pork, however, was quite dry. The sausage was very hot and fresh. Jen couldn't keep it in her mouth.

Clearly we all pushed our limits. One point we noted was that it wasn't always clear what meat we were being presented with. Sometimes the waiters helpfully mentioned it out loud without being asked. Others either forgot or just didn't want to. Labels on the skewers to identify the meat would have been helpful.

What happened next was clearly a pisstake. We were offered a look at the selection of desserts. As if. Not only that, but they actually lugged a huge plate of *actual* examples of all the desserts, just to help the joke along. I don't believe for a second they actually do desserts. No one could ever manage that.

I weighed myself the next morning. That was a mistake.

Botswana - Home cooking

I actually expected I'd find a restaurant which served food from Botswana in London, even if it was a pan-African restaurant that had a limited number of dishes. So I was surprised to find nothing during my research. So it was back to the kitchen.

When trying to decide what to cook, one dish cropped up again and again, and appeared to be pretty much Botswana's national dish. It also looked like it would be one of the most bland meals I've ever cooked. Seswaa. Mashed meat. With salt. Served with pap. Cornmeal. With salt.

Still, authenticity is the name of the game on this project so that's exactly what I cooked. And it couldn't have been easier.

The meal is literally made up of two main ingredients, as mentioned above. I bought 800g of slow cook casserole beef and a 500g bag of cornmeal (I used 400g of this).

The first step was to add the meat to a large pot of water, bring to the boil, then simmer for four hours. This might seem overkill, but as long as the meat simmers slowly it will make things much easier later on. I found myself topping up with water every 45 minutes or so to keep the meat covered. I also added a teaspoon and a half of salt for flavour.

Forty five minutes before the four hours was up, I started on the pap recipe. I opted for a more South African-influenced version, putu pap, which is supposed to be fairly dry and crumbly.

I boiled 600ml water and a teaspoon of salt in a large pan, then dumped 400g of cornmeal into the water. Without mixing, I placed the lid on top of the pan and let it simmer for five minutes before mixing well and adding a knob of butter. Once mixed, I replaced the lid, turned the heat way down and let it pretty much steam for half an hour. I added a dash of boiling water every now and then to replenish the source of moisture, as it was becoming very dry.

Just before the putu pap was ready, I removed the meat from the water and mashed vigourously with the end of a rolling pin. This was much easier that I thought it would be - the meat was incredibly soft. I then dry fried the shredded meat for a few minutes to remove any extra moisture.

Then it was just a case of serving. I ended up with much more meat than I expected.

On eating, it was incredibly dry, as I expected. The meat was surprisingly salty and really quite tasty. The putu pap was a bland as I expected, if not more so.

We tried to eat it as it was for as long as possible, but I had already cunningly reserved the beef stock to which Elle added Bisto gravy granules. This made it much easier to eat!

All in all, I didn't have high hopes for this meal but it ended up being really quite tasty and very filling. But all the way through, in my head, I was already thinking of the next country...

Bosnia & Herzegovina - Mugi, W5

Restaurant:  Mugi

Location:  15 Station Parade, Uxbridge Road, London, W5 3LD

Date of visit:  Sunday 14 September 2014

Time of visit:  8.30pm

The planning for this one wasn't as straightforward as previous restaurant visits. Firstly we had to find a restaurant that wasn't just Balkan or a former Yugoslav country, but one that was specifically Bosnian. As it happens, Mugi is as Serbian as it is Bosnian but naturally they are almost culturally identical. In the end, enough online sources had this down as a Bosnian restaurant for me to count it as valid. Plus this was in lieu of an alternative anyway.

The next stumbling block was after setting aside some time on the Sunday evening to walk the three miles from our flat to the restuarant - stopping off at many a pub on the way - I discovered just before we left that, according to Google, the restaurant was closed on Sundays. I took that as gospel, but we decided to make the trek anyway and end up at another restaurant in the area.

The hours passed, the half pints were sunk, then we arrived at Station Parade to find - lo and behold - the restaurant was OPEN! Result. In we went.

(DISCLAIMER:  By the time we got there, we had been drinking for hours. The following review is as accurate as the circumstances allow...)

Some people were sitting outside the restaurant on the chairs and tables provided in the street, but indoors it was still fairly quiet. That wasn't to last, however, as it quickly filled during out visit.

Like several previous restaurants we've visited, this one was very much a local cafe for Bosnian ex-pats, as opposed to a restaurant. Actually, it was more like a shop with a cafe. There was a large selection of Balkan produce for sale - fresh and pre-packaged, including many cakes. One thing that wasn't for sale was alcohol. This restaurant is non-licenced. Probably just as well under the circumstances!

On each table there was a menu in both Serbian and English, including their breakfast menu which is clearly intended for wider appeal (as was the selection of filled baguettes listed on the wall of the restaurant). As for the main event, a selection of grilled meats - a staple of the Balkans - was the speciality. 

The waitress served us very quickly. We both ended up ordering the pork and beef koftas, with a can of Diet Coke and Coke Zero. She didn't seem at all fazed by the fact we were clearly not "local" with respect to the clientèle. Neither, as it happens, did the clientèle seem to mind. I never really expect that to be an issue, but it's always in the back of my mind. The atmosphere was very friendly.

While we waited, I took in the sights and the sounds. Serbian state TV - RTS - was on the TV showing live basketball. USA v Serbia. There was no hiding from it - the TV was pretty loud! It also became clear that this was the reason the restaurant started to fill up. This game was a big deal. Later research found that this was the FIBA World Cup final (Serbia lost).

The restaurant had one toilet, which was fairly basic. On the way to the toilet we discovered a whole back room of the restaurant, where many more had gathered to watch the sport.

The food came in good time, and the portion was fantastic. The meat - around 10 koftas in all - came in two pittas, arranged almost like a burger. (This is also how I ate it - probably not the way it is done!). The pitta bread was quite moist in the middle, which made me assume it had been very freshly baked. The koftas were shaped processed minced meat, which reminded me of the Albanian restaurant all those years ago. The meat also seemed quite eggy to me - no doubt egg played in a part in keeping the koftas together. The meat seemed just cooked. Not much more. I'm sure to most people this would be seen as cooked perfectly. To me, I was just a little nervous that it was undercooked. It wasn't. However it was incredibly salty.

The koftas were served with thin chips and salad - raw onion and cucumber spears - alongside some miscellaneous sauce , almost like a tomato and marscapone mix.

It was a very decent meal and a great way to end the festivities of the day. Heavy going at times, but worth it. Which is not what the locals were probably thinking about that basketball game by the time we left.

Bolivia - El Rincon Quiteno, N7

Restaurant:  El Rincon Quiteno

Location:  235 Holloway Road, London, N7 8HG

Date of visit:  4 September 2014

Time of visit:  8pm

Finally, an opportunity to visit one of London's fine international restaurants once again, for that is the reason for the existance of this blog! I was fairly certain I'd find a restaurant that served Bolivian cuisine, if not exclusively.

After some research, it seems that perhaps the only exclusively Bolivian restaurant in London recently closed down. But that left two or three pan-regional restaurants that also specialised in food from Ecuador and Colombia.

In this case, we opted for an Ecuadorian-Bolivian restaurant in North London. Helpfully, despite not having an actual website, their menu was listed on Just Eat so I was able to make sure that there was a decent choice of Bolivian fair. The selection in this respect wasn't extensive, but it was a selection nonetheless.

I called ahead on the Thursday afternoon to ask if we needed to book a table for two in advance, but this wasn't necessary.

On arrival we were greeted straight away and taken to a table. The restaurant was fairly quiet but there was still a nice little buzz to it. Almost as soon as we sat down we were presented with the menus. Clearly we both had pretty much made up our mind before we arrived, not just because of the menu availability on Just Eat but also because there was one standout main dish.

I ordered a Club Colombia lager, but unfortunately they had none so I had to settle for a bottle of Cusquena. Elle asked for a glass of "house white" wine, which wasn't actually listed on the drinks menu despite a "house red" being listed.

For food, we decided on a small starter and a main. We went for the only Bolivian starter listed - Saltenas Boliviana (a chicken and peas pattie) but unfortunately they were also out of those. Instead we went for the very similar Empanadas Colombianas - one chicken and one beef, which we shared between us.

As for the main, it was clear as soon as we spotted it on the menu that we were both going to go for the pique macho. Not only is this traditionally Bolivian, but it sounded amazing - diced beef, sausage, garlic, chips, onion salad topped with mayo. Even just typing that makes me feel excited all over again! (And proof reading this before publishing is exciting me all over again!)

The starter came out very quickly. Nothing amazing, but the sauce it came with was definitely something to note. It was a small bowl of fairly watery spicy salsa. It added a lovely kick to patties when dashed on top. Elle isn't a big fan of salsa, but she really liked this stuff. It turned a fairly unremarkable, familiar starter into something much more memorable.

While waiting for the mains I took in some of the atmosphere of the restaurant. It was pretty much smack bang between being a restaurant and a cafe. To be honest, the service was too. That isn't to say the service wasn't good. It was excellent, but it was also informal and relaxed. This was a good thing.

When the mains arrived, we were both taken aback. From the description, we both expected something special. And my god did it look special. So much so that, for the first time, we were both moved to take a picture of the meal. Something we've never done on this blog. That isn't what the blog is about, and I've always hated the idea of pulling a camera out in the middle of a restaurant and taking picture of the meal before eating it. Not least because we don't want to give the impression that we're professional food bloggers and we're testing them out. We're not, but in any case we gave the game away this time.

Maybe not everyone's cup of tea, but this looked like heaven to us. And it tasted better. The beef was ample and very tender - not tough at all, despite the waitress arming us with steak knives. The sausage was a cross between saveloy and hot dog - not quality meat, but absolutely fine by us. The mix of garlic, onion and mayo was perfect with all this. And the crowning glory was the chippy-style chips soaked in the copious amount of spicy gravy that settled in the bottom of this slightly bowl-shaped plate. Not many words were spoken as we dug into this concoction. 

Almost absurdly, however, halfway through the meal the head waiter marched to our table, confiscated Elle's half full wine glass proclaiming "that wine is warm" and replaced it instantly with a new, full, ice cold glass of white wine. Wine, by the way, that was exceptionally good. Elle knows her wine. She was hugely impressed. Even I could also tell this was the real deal.

It was nice to just finally get out to a restaurant again, but this experience exceeded expectations - both in the service and especially in the food. A fantastic restaurant to visit, and I can only imagine what the other delights on the menu would be like. Maybe we'll come back if we ever reach the letter E....

Bhutan - home cooking

I cook once a week. That sounds pretty lame really as it suggests Elle cooks all of the rest of the time. Which is true. But when I cook, I cook from scratch. It's an evening long, sometimes day long, event. I take a recipe, I follow it to the letter. It usually works out perfect. I feel like a good cook. But actually, I'm just good at reading instructions.

Still, you learn your strengths and weaknesses. I learned my culinary weakness long ago. Flour. I can't work with flour. Anything that has to be a certain conisistancy to be able to work with its a big no no. Always ends up in disaster.

Why the hell I thought I'd be able to make Bhutanese momo (dumplings) I haven't got a clue. This Bhutanese meal was 50% of a disaster.

It was to be a two parter. The main I chose to cook was pork fing. A kind of spicy pork stew/curry with noodles. I was a little concerned that the portion wouldn't be enough, so I decided to make a side dish of momo. The filling in the momo can be any meat really, but I think more often than not the Bhutanese use minced beef.

The timing of the two parts looked quite handy. The pork fing was to cook for quite a while, during which I'd make the momo.

For the pork fing I bought 1 onion, 1 tomato, 1/5 a block of butter, 700g pork shoulder and 3 green chillis. I was also supposed to buy a small amount of cellophane noodles (about 60g). But I couldn't find them anywhere. I dare say I would've found them in London's Chinatown but that would've been too much effort. Instead I went for the thinnest rice noodles I could find.

I chopped the onion and tomato and added this with the chopped pork and 120ml of water into a pan of the melted butter. I waited for it to simmer, then covered it and cooked this for 90 minutes. At this point I made a bit of an error - I added a touch more water, and I covered the pan. The contents of the pot was quite shallow so I was concerned about it not cooking evenly. In the end the meal was a bit too watery, when it should be drier, but it wasn't too problematic.

Speaking of problematic, it was time to prepare the dumplings. First the easy bit. The filling. 500g of minced beef, one finely chopped onion, 70g oil, some salt and a bit of chilli powder, all mixed together as much as possible. Then set aside.

The dough. Flour and water. Simple as? Was it buggery. Into 600g of plain flour, I added 4 cups of water. I hate cups. Give me millilitres anyday. I worked that out to be about 800ml of water. You can see my problem. Rather than add water a bit at a time, I dumped it all in and mixed. And mixed. And mixed. And I had thin white paste. I added more flour. And more flour. Then all the rest of the flour I had in the flat. I had a slightly thicker thin white paste. So thin it poured through my fingers. There was no way in hell I was rolling this into anything. Except the bin.

Elle said I was surpsingly calm. I think I was. But it's because I already knew this was going to happen. The only problem I had now was the big bowl of raw mince and onion. I ended up frying this, adding some more noodles to it, and serving *that* as a side dish along with some chilli, soy and BBQ sauce.

Anyway, at least I still had the pork fing, and this seemed to be going well. Except the excess sauce. I tried to boil as much of it away as I could without impairing the meal but eventually I had to serve it.

I was right to be initially concerned about the portion size, as it made barely a bowl each (I was certain the amount of noodles suggested was too small but other recipes suggested a similar amount). While the portion may have been on the small side, it was extremely filling. Mostly because of the butter. It was really rich in that respect, but it was no bad thing. It had a really nice subtle spice, the pork was of melt in the mouth consistency and the noodles added a little bit of substance but didn't get in the way. It turns out this would probably have been a nice satisfying meal on it's own, although the dumplings would've been perfect with it.

I think travelling to the nearest Bhutanese restaurant, probably in Bhutan, would've been easier than those dumplings. Never again.

Benin - home cooking

Another edition of cooking in our kitchen, as London is lacking when it comes to Beninian cuisine. Eating in Benin is heavy on staple foods - yams, maize, plantain. Fish is also popular. But of course, given the chance, I will always aim to cook something that doesn't involve seafood. Furthermore, I will usually strive to cook something involving chicken so long as it is a common, popular national dish. Two years working at KFC are to be thanked for that.

After some research, one word came up again and again. Amiwo. Better known to you and me as polenta. That's not necessary a direct translation (it might be) but certainly that's what you end up with. Read on for my experiences of turning cornmeal into polenta...(!)

Again, this recipe was split into two parts. The making and cooking of the cornmeal, and the preparation and cooking of the chicken.

For the polenta I bought half a kg of cornmeal, 1 onion, 125ml of peanut oil, a tomato, a pepper (I chose green) and a clove of garlic. Another ingredient that was suggested was dried ground crayfish. I didn't expect to find that anywhere. And I didn't. Instead I added a dash of fish sauce. I've no idea if that was the right thing to do, but it didn't seem detrimental!

For the other half of the meal I bought four chicken breast fillets, 1 more green pepper, fresh parsley, 2 more cloves of garlic, another onion and a bit more peanut oil. I was also supposed to use celery for this part of the meal, but we both hate celery - one of the few things I just won't eat - so it was skipped.

It's best to get the chicken going first and then just keep it warm afterwards. I added some peanut oil to the pan, and seared the chicken fillets in that before adding the chopped pepper, garlic, parsley and onion. After frying for a bit, and adding a touch of water. I let this braise for a good 15 minutes or so. Originally I was a bit concerned that it would dry out, but actually there was more than enough liquid for it to braise.

Now to the "amiwo". In a second pot I heated the 125ml of peanut oil, which seemed like a huge amount, and then fried in this the tomato (pureed), chopped pepper, crushed garlic clove and fish sauce with a touch of water. Separately I dry fried the cornmeal in another pot. This felt strange. I was frying one of the driest substances you could imagine. It seemed a bit fruitless, especially when I started to sense some burning smells. The cornmeal did start to turn a little brown which I think was the idea. I then took a third of this and mixed it with a good bit of water and stirred into a bit of a paste. I then stirred this into the other sauce pot and heated for 15 mins on a low heat, gradually adding the rest of the cornmeal.

This is where I feared it was all going wrong. It all started getting extremely thick. To the point I couldn't really stir it any more. I ended up adding so much more water than I thought I'd have to. In the end, however, I ended up with a pot full (full being the word) of home-made polenta which seemed to have a great consistency.

Once it was all ready, I arranged a base of polenta and on top of that added the chicken fillets and vegetables, spooning over a good bit of the sauce to mix with the polenta, garnished with some fresh parsley.

Stodge. That was the crux of this meal. A big dollop of stodge with chicken and veg. Polenta is polenta. Not particularly interesting although the way it was cooked in this instance meant that the polenta itself had more flavour than any time I'd had it before. The extra sauce helped as other the meal would have been incredibly dry.

The chicken itself was good. Not hugely flavoursome, but succulent. It was definitely a sufficient meal. I suppose where it falls down, according to my personal taste, is the lack of spices. 

Not a bad meal at all, just not hugely interesting.

Belize - home cooking

The more I look at the countries coming up in this project, and compare it to the few that we've managed to conquer so far, it's becoming clear that home cooking is going to be quite a regular thing. Where in London was I going to find a restaurant that offers authentic Belizian cuisine? Nowhere, it would seem.

My research into that can only be so extensive. A fairly thorough search online, including delving into similar blogs such as this. In this case I even sent an email to the Belize High Commission to ask - essentially - where they go for their dinner like granny use to make. They clearly must think I'm mental.

The next search online was for what to cook. It would seem Belizian cuisine isn't a particularly beautiful thing. Of the options that did appeal, most of it was beyond our tastes. Mostly bits of sealife.

Then I came across the Belizian stew. Everyone loves a good stew. A few sources came up with a similar recipe - from Belizian Garifuna - in which you could use either chicken or fish. As seafood seemed to be popular in this part of the Americas, I went for the fish option.

With Belize being a Central American country, rice and beans was as much a part of this stew as the fish. The suggestion was to buy "red beans". I automatically think kidney beans. Elle doesn't do kidney beans. I opted for a tin of pinto beans instead. Other ingredients to go with the 400g of rice was a can of coconut milk, half an onion, half a sweet red pepper, a teaspoon of garlic powder, of black pepper and of salt.

For the stewed fish, I started with buying some fish - two fillets of river cobbler. Because I'm a tight Scotsman. Also, one green and one red pepper, 2 lemons, one onion, one teaspoon of black pepper, salt and dried thyme. Also a few genrous tablespoons of tomato puree.

I cooked the meal in two parts, as above. The first part is the rice and associated flavours. As the beans were already cooked, I threw them into a large pot with the coconut milk, chopped onion, black pepper, garlic powder and the (washed) rice. After giving it a good mix I put it on to a low heat and simmered for half an hour. It's important to keep an eye on this. I'll come back to why shortly.

Once that bit is done, start with the second part - the fish stew. Juice the lemons and pour it over the fish fillets. Let the lemon juice soak into both sides of the fillets for a good five or ten minutes. Then add this to a pot with about 400ml of water, salt, the chopped onion, peppers and black pepper. Cover the pot and let the fish poach in this for around 20 mins.

Even before I got to the end of that stage, I could tell the rice had already absorbed most of the liquid, requiring a substantial top up. It's important not to overdo stirring the rice to avoid mushiness.

The last step is to add the tomato puree to the fish. I tried to add it just to water/sauce then ensured that as much fish was submerged in this as possible. I then turned the heat right up to try and lose some more of the liquid.

To serve, I first layered a bowl with a generous helping of the rice, the placed a fish fillet on top and topped with the chopped peppers and onions. Finally, I spooned out a few good spoonfuls of the brown from the fish pot into the bowl. It was at this point I realised that this actually came together quite well.

And it really was a beautiful meal. The rice had a lovely subtle but present coconut taste and fragrance and with the beans gave real substance to the meal, absorbing some of the fish broth in the process. The fish itself was so succulent, very tender. The peppers just firm enough to not be mushy. The fish broth was really fresh and almost refreshing. It had a lovely, almost fruity tang to it.

I have to point out that calling the sauce a "fish broth" is actually a bit of a misnomer. This meal wasn't particularly fishy at all, which is part of the idea. That was the reason for soaking the fillets in lemon juice before hand.

Overall, the portion was substantial. It would've fed six people. Clearly, we ate most of it on the same night. That's how we roll.