GUSTO food, life & memories
ISSUE 01 APR/MAY 2014 AUS: $9.95 5 021456 140688
CONTENTS
04 OPENING AN INDEPENDENT RESTAURANT
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FORAGING IN NORGE
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AN INTENTIONAL SUNDAY: THE ESSENTIAL GUIDE TO FARMERS MARKET(ING)
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OUR FAVORITE (GLUTEN FREE) RECIPES
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THE RELIANCE
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THE INHERITANCE OF FOOD TRADITIONS
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FOOD MEMORIES: FRUTTI DI MARE - A LOVE STORY
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COOKING FOR ONE
OPENING AN INDEPENDENT RESTAURANT Words Katy Lanceley Photography Golden
With two small children at home, evenings out don’t come around too often these days. So when they do, there’s always a struggle to find the right place that strikes the delicate balance between a sense of occasion and an informal, relaxed environment.
The site they took over used to be a seafood restaurant before their chain sadly went into administration in early 2013. “Despite our own excitement, there is something quite eerie about taking over a restaurant that has gone bankrupt. Everything was still intact exactly – from the laid cutlery and wine glasses on each table.”
A few weeks ago we were invited along to the launch of new Leeds restaurant, Shears Yard. Set in a nineteenth century rope and canvas factory and with a delicious menu of locally sourced dishes, we were more than pleasantly surprised to discover that the latest addition to the Leeds food scene ticked all the right boxes. Later, we sat down with owner, Nic Routh to talk about the challenges of setting up an independent restaurant.
Working with architect firm, Architectural Emporium, they set out to transform the venue. “We never wanted to replicate the Arts Café formula with our new venue. In fact, we wanted to avoid creating a ‘chain restaurant’ at all costs”. In contrast to Arts’ bohemian décor and atmosphere, Shears Yard has retained most of its industrial features in a nod to its heritage.
Nic’s first restaurant, Arts Café, opened in 1994 and was the original café bar in Leeds. Almost 10 years on, they have built up a loyal customer base, so any follow up restaurant would have a lot to live up to. “The hunt for our second restaurant venue was never going to be easy and after over a year of searching we were beginning to give up hope that the perfect venue was out there.” “Walking into 11-15 Wharf Street we instantly knew that this was the ideal home for our second venture. With its striking brickwork and large skylights, we knew that few other venues in Leeds would create the same impact. We put an offer in the same day and Shears Yard was born.”
The main objective with the interior was to create a relaxed environment “We knew that the food would be a lot more adventurous and creative than the Arts Café menu, but we wanted to make sure that it was equally as accessible”. Shears Yard aimed to be a place where people could go impromptu, whether still in a work suit or dressed casually after a day of shopping. “This is another reason why we decided to build a large standalone bar. We wanted Shears Yard to be more than a restaurant; we wanted it to be social hub and hope that we will attract as many drinkers as we do diners”. 04
WE WANTED SHEARS YARD TO BE MORE THAN A RESTAURANT; WE WANTED IT TO BE SOCIAL HUB AND HOPE THAT WE WILL ATTRACT AS MANY DRINKERS AS WE DO DINERS.
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AN INTENTIONAL SUNDAY: THE ESSENTIAL GUIDE TO FARMERS MARKET(ING) Words Katy Lanceley Photography Golden
Ah, Sunday. A chance to rest from the hellish week that was and get a head start on the promising week to come. Even if we had a month of them it wouldn’t be enough. However, its all too tempting to let this amicable day of the week get lost in a flurry of unproductivity. Staying in bed a few too many hours, flipping the digital pages of the nearest device and finally introducing oneself to humanity via a visit to your local café for a slow brunch. Only to realise that it’s tea-time or worse still supper. With a little forethought Sunday can be the most leisurely productive time of one’s week. Instead of letting this day fall by the wayside, make it a purposeful one. An intentional Sunday. 09
One of my favourite Sunday morning activities is to visit the local farmer’s market. What used to be a rural staple has now become a facet of many urban spaces. Allowing family owned farms to sell their products directly to the discerning consumer, they are on track to irrevocably change the landscape of grocery shopping. One can only hope. Half the fun of these weekly expeditions is the learning curve they bring – being a novice is a delight. As you learn about new fruit and veg as well as ways to prepare them, the trial and error process yields a gastronomic adventure. There are however, a few essentials to making a trip to the market a successful one.
A reliable jute bag This is probably your most vital tangible tool. Environmentally, (and sometimes socially) friendly reusable shoppers vary in price and quality. Investing in a good one will save your veggies from spilling out onto the curb. Look for a spacious bag with reinforced handles for those days when you pick up a few more items than expected. Also, a reinforced bottom is key to preventing sag; no one likes his or her goods to drag on the ground after all! A personal favourite is the local series by Apolis, allowing you to show a little local pride while you shop. Do your research As the seasons change so do the market offerings and it’s best to be prepared for what’s in store before you get there, otherwise you will end up with a bag full of every weird and wonderful item you come across, (ghost aubergines anyone?), without the time to cook it all. A quick online search should be able to advise you of the farms that will be at your local market as well as their specialties. I came across a dairy farm which specialised in the creamiest Araucana eggs – but they only sell them to you if you specifically ask for them. A menu plan This goes hand in hand with doing your research. Pre plan your menu for the week and carry a list of what you need to fulfill it. Be sure to bear in mind that different foods perish more rapidly than others, so plan so as to use the most perishable items earlier in the week. It also helps to buy up items that are nearing the end of their season, so you can pickle, jam or can them to reuse later in the year.
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FEARLESSLY TRYING UNIQUE PRODUCE WILL EXPAND YOUR PALETTE AND COOKING SKILLS.
Get there early! Sorry. Grandma was really right about this one, and while you might not get the worm the allegorical early bird does, you WILL get the very best produce and sometimes the unique items that are long gone by time the average person rolls out of bed and strolls to the market. Carry an anecdote The market community is a tight one, but its also very friendly and inviting. You will likely find yourself in conversation with the vendor if they see you on a regular basis. Have an anecdote ready. They love to know what’s been going on since they last saw you. The key is to enjoy yourself and improve the quality of your Sunday. Fearlessly trying unique produce will expand your palette and cooking skills. Besides, friends are always impressed when you cook an ingredient that is a tweak on the usual – white carrots, golden beets, white aubergines. Earn those bragging rights, and allow Sunday to help you start your week as you mean to go on. With intent.
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OUR FAVORITE (GLUTEN FREE)
RECIPES
Imam bayildi This is a classic Turkish recipe for stuffed eggplants. Folklore claims that a Turkish priest, the imam, fainted with pleasure on being served this dish by his wife.
ingredients 3 eggplants, halved lengthwise 1 large onion, finely sliced ½ cup extra-virgin olive oil 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped 4 large ripe tomatoes, peeled, seeded and chopped
1 bay leaf pinch of ground cinnamon ¼ cup parsley, freshly chopped salt freshly ground black pepper juice of 1 large lemon
RECIPE 1. Scoop out eggplant flesh, then chop and lightly salt it and set aside. Lightly salt eggplant shells and leave upside down for 30 minutes. Rinse and dry shells. 2. Preheat oven to 180°C. Cook onion slowly in 2 tablespoons of the oil. Add garlic and sauté for 1 minute, then add tomato, bay leaf, cinnamon and parsley and cook for another 5 minutes. Tip into a bowl. 3. Rinse and dry eggplant flesh. Heat half the remaining oil and sauté eggplant. Add to bowl, mix and check seasoning. 4. Pile filling into eggplant shells and brush with a little oil. Pack shells into an oiled baking or gratin dish. Pour in enough water mixed with lemon juice and remaining oil to barely cover eggplant. Bake for 30–45 minutes until soft. Allow to cool, then serve at room temperature or cold.
tip: Briefly sautéed minced beef or lamb can also be mixed with the vegetables, as can currants, nuts or rice.
ginger roasted pumpkin + quinoa salad w/ mint, chilli + lime Flavoursome roasted vegetables, quinoa, a ton of herbs and a bright simple dressing.
ingredients 1kg piece pumpkin 1 tablespoon finely grated fresh ginger 2 green or red chillies, finely chopped 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped 2 tablespoons olive oil 2 teaspoons pure maple syrup a handful of finely chopped coriander roots and stems
fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper 1 cup (185g) quinoa 1 ½ cups (375ml) water the juice of two limes (or large lemon) a good handful each of fresh mint and coriander (cilantro) leaves toasted pumpkin (pepita) seeds
RECIPE 1. Pre-heat oven to 200C/400F. Peel pumpkin, remove the seeds and cut into even chunks approximately 2-3cm wide. Combine pumpkin with ginger, chilli, garlic, olive oil, maple and coriander roots and season well with salt and pepper. Combine well before turning out onto a large oven tray. Bake for 25-30 minutes, turning once or twice or until the pumpkin is lovely a golden and soft right through. Remove from the oven and set aside to cool slightly. 2. Meanwhile place quinoa into a finemesh sieve and rinse well. Bring the water to the boil in a small saucepan before adding the quinoa, covering with a lid and reducing the heat down to a gentle simmer. Cook for 10-12 minutes until the water has been absorbed and the quinoa is tender. Remove from the heat, leave the lid on and set aside to steam for a further 5 minutes before fluffing up with a fork. 3. When both the pumpkin and quinoa are cooked, combine the two in a large bowl, making sure you scrape any lovely bits of ginger and oil from the bottom of the roasting tray into the bowl too. Squeeze over the lime, stir through the herbs, season with more salt and pepper if desired and scatter over the pumpkin seeds to serve. You can eat this warm or cool the pumpkin and quinoa first before stirring through the herbs and serve at room temperature.
chickpea, tomato + feta salad with pomegranate dressing
ingredients 1 ½ cups cooked chickpeas (garbanzo) a large handful flat leaf parsley leaves a large handful of mint leaves 1 spring onion (scallion) finely sliced 2 big handfuls cherry tomatoes (approx 250g), left whole or halved crumbled feta
pomegranate molasses dressing: 1 clove garlic 2 tablespoons pomegranate molasses the finely grated zest + juice 1/2 lemon 1 teaspoon lightly toasted and finely ground cumin seeds 3-4 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper runny honey, if needed
RECIPE 1. Place all the salad ingredients into a large bowl. Finely chop the garlic, sprinkle with a little fine sea salt and use the side of your knifes blade to mash the garlic to a paste. Place into a bowl along with the pomegranate molasses, lemon zest and juice and cumin. Mix to combine. Whisk in olive oil to form a lovely emulsified dressing. Taste and season with sea salt and black pepper. If your lemon is really tart you may find you need to add a teaspoon or two of runny honey. Pour just enough dressing over the salad to coat (any leftovers will keep in a glass jar in the fridge for a week), mix well and serve.
Recipes & Photography Emma Galloway
THE RELIANCE Words Leigh Linley Photography Carl Fleischer
There’s a quiet confidence about The Reliance these days. There are no sharp edges to the place; the tables, bar and decor radiates a lived-in, comfortable quality – in the best possible way, of course. The well-used bar is stocked with beers from Yorkshire, London and Wales, and chalkboards tell you what’s what you can eat to soak it all up. Chefs potter about in the galley behind bar; your quiet pint occasionally punctuated with the whizzing of a blender or the staccato chop of knife against chopping board.
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The mix of kitchen and bar doesn’t jar at all; in fact, it seems just right for a pub that has found an identity after periods of soul-searching. Co-owner Joss Ainsworth is emphatic about what The Reliance is all about when I bring up the dreaded term Gastropub. “…It’s about good quality, informal dining, with the same service. I’d personally call it a Pub, rather than a bar and restaurant. That’s a more accurate description of what we do. You can come and eat what you want, when you want.”
looking at perhaps opening another place, but we really enjoyed what we were doing here and didn’t want to dilute it. How can we make this place better? As it happens, one of the chefs at the time was curing his own meat, and that’s where it started.” Already a self-confessed ‘cheese nut’, Joss threw himself headlong into the venture. “I started curing a few bits and bobs in a homemade locker in the cellar. It turned out well, so we looked into how far we could take it.” As hobbies tend to do, the project took on a life of its own. Alterations to the pub and dining room itself revealed extra room in the kitchen – space to cure – and the rest, as they say, is history.
Let’s just take a step back, first. Joss set up The Reliance at the beginning of the noughties with John Gyngell (who had recently set up a little bar called North nearby). “When we first set up The Reliance, we didn’t really know what we wanted it to be.” explains Joss. Joss ended up taking his cue from the lively streets of London, where something curious was happening with pub food; flabby Ploughman’s Platters and Pork Pies were out, fresh ingredients and a sense of adventure were in. “I had worked and lived in London at the height of the late-nineties Gastropub explosion. When we found this building, we both immediately thought that it would fit a Gastropub…there was nothing like it in Leeds, and we’ve been running it along those lines ever since.” The Reliance simmered along nicely in the early noughties; a reliable (no pun intended) hangout for a crowd pursuing different things than just good beer and wine. However, the beginning of this chapter came a few years down the line; one that would lead to Joss making his own cured meats, instead of buying it. “Becs (Winlow, Joss’ partner and opposite coowner) and I took a little sabbatical; doing a little travelling and, upon our return, decided to focus on doing something different. What can we do that really interests us? We were
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fascinating to work with. We can’t get better, as far as we’re concerned.” Unsurprisingly, no matter how talented the chefs, if the meat isn’t top-notch in the first place, it isn’t going to work. “When we first started out curing, we were using more commercial breeds and the results were nowhere near what we wanted.”
It’s not easy to do, and charcuterie calls for patience. Salami and Lomo takes six to seven weeks to arrive on your plate, and the Lomo takes at least ten. Joss talks me through his recipes and processes as we glare into the locker, marvelling at the hanging meat; trussed up in string, the smell permeating out. It’s difficult not to lose yourself in the aroma; earth, brine, buttery fat… forest floor and English meadow.
I ponder the uniqueness of it as I enjoy some Lomo and Fennel Salami with a pint of Otley’s Hop Angeles beer at the bar that afternoon. The Lomo in particular dovetails with the sweet malt of the beer. It’s comforting flavour, unfussy and sincere – much like the ethos that entwines both the business and curing exploits of the team at The Reliance.
Joss snaps us out of reverie to get us back on track. “Originally it was another one of our chefs, Tom Hunter, who helped drive the idea. We all went down to The School of Artisan Food and took a short cheesemaking, curing and smoking course.” Joss was hooked. “It was amazing, but that’s the only formal training we’ve had.”
“It can be a mistake to try and do too much, too soon. We’ve tried to operate at a sustainable level; that way we can maintain quality. We don’t want to flood Leeds with our meat and become too ubiquitous. We do this because we enjoy it.”
The meat also has to be top-notch to start with. “We buy our pork from Taste Tradition, who specialise in rare breeds. It’s a family farm, and they are just
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THE INHERITANCE OF FOOD TRADITIONS Words Katy Lanceley Photography Golden
it is a far more intuitive process based on hours spent observing a relative in their kitchen, quietly absorbing recipes that, while often unassuming, become imprinted into our family histories. In these instances, food is a necessary and tangible connection to the past.
MOST OF OUR CHILDHOOD IS STORED NOT IN PHOTOS, BUT IN CERTAIN BISCUITS, LIGHTS OF DAY, SMELLS, TEXTURES OF CARPET.
The intimate connection between food, memory and family is one that cannot be underestimated. I return to a comment made by Richards: “I start every Sunday with a trip to the local farmers market – chatting with the vendors, picking the best seasonal produce and plotting my meals for the week. I often spend four, five, even in excess of six hours cooking: Dinner, pudding, concocting drinks – it’s the kind of Sunday I’ve lived since I was a little girl and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Richards’ perpetuation of the Sundays of her childhood tells us that there is something comforting in the recipes and traditions that are handed down to us like family heirlooms – they remind us of where we have come from and where we belong.
Naturally, the process of preparing and eating food is not simply about sustenance, but also connection and kinship. For many of us, our family dining-room table was where we were initially socialised and where we began to develop our own sense of taste – a space where we learnt not only the skill of how to interact over food, but also what we prefer to eat. Often when I have been a dinner guest of some friends, I have wondered where they learnt to cook the dish they served. Sometimes it is as simple as referring to a well-loved and dogeared cookbook, but at other times 25
FOOD MEMORIES: FRUTTI DI MARE – A LOVE STORY Words Leigh Linley Illustration Rose Jocham
I proposed to my wife in Kefalonia.
us take a trip to Turkey. We were green about travelling alone but I’d visited as a teenager so knew what to expect to some extent. I particularly recalled the ‘Fish Plate’ that my relatives tucked into with glee. Seemingly too much food for one man to eat, it represented both a challenge and a luxury. I ordered it as soon as I could; taking some pleasure from watching Louise’s eyes bulge when it landed on the table. I couldn’t even name what was on it… juicy fish and shellfish, battered and fried, doused in Lemon and Salt. Cold bottles of Efes Pilsner littered the table. It was heady, lip-stinging stuff.
The Greek Islands (and its food) had played a major part in our lives, our holidays together getting better every year, so it seemed like the right thing to do. She said yes (thank god!) and afterwards we had a nerve-calming drink and excitedly looked for a place to celebrate; a taverna, or a harbour-side restaurant. Nothing fancy, as the Greeks do so well. Whitewashed walls, powder-blue tables and the evil eye above the door, that sort of thing. Our chosen dish? A huge shared plate of Calamari, Octopus, Whitebait and Prawns, bolstered by hunks of fish and a side plate of salty chips (don’t scoff – the humble salted chip is elevated to near-religious heights at times like this) and lemon quarters. All washed down with a bottle of bone-dry Greek white wine. The sky turned from blue to pink to indigo, and all was well with the world. It was better than that, actually. It was perfect.
Curiosity got the better of Louise and she tasted her way round my plate as the holiday skipped by, and by the end of it she was ordering her own with nervous laughter. Greece, the next year, elevated the meal to new heights. The fish seemed lighter, the prawns juicier, and the lemon near-explosive in the mouth. We were now sharing; citrus, salt and white wine – we don’t care which, house is fine, as long as it’s dry and cold – the only dressing.
Years later, this simple dish remains our all-time favourite. Almost insulting in its simplicity, it’s a meal where freshness of the seafood is key; and that’s about it. We hunt it out wherever we go in the Mediterranean, and make it almost every weekend during our (admittedly short) summers at home. It’s our go-to, our vice, our addiction. It’s the story of us.
Italy, then, and the refinement of the art; seafood as sophisticate and sleek. The lightest batter, the softest Calamari. Straw-thin fries to accompany, and two glasses of Prosecco, please. Pool-side at the honeymoon hotel, book folded under the lounger, plans being made to come back in a couple of years’ time…but for now, the Frutti Di Mare. Always the Frutti Di Mare.
I’ve always loved fish; Louise…not so much. In 1998 we went on our first holiday together – a nerve-shredding rite of passage that saw
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COOKING FOR ONE Words Katie Beswick Photography Emma Galloway
OF COURSE, PART OF THE REASON ANY RESPECTABLE SINGLETON CHOOSES TO LIVE ALONE IS SO SHE CAN EAT A MASSIVE LUMP OF BRIE FOR DINNER, WITH HER HANDS, STANDING IN HER UNDERWEAR IN FRONT OF AN OPEN FRIDGE, WITH NOBODY AROUND TO JUDGE HER.
After an extended period of living alone I can report that relationships are over. In fact, I’ll go so far as to say that I think the contemporary singles-boom is a fabulous indication of a move towards emancipation from The Man (though I’m something of an armchair revolutionary, so I’ll understand if you disagree). The only drawback to living all alone, so far as I can tell, is the fact that cooking for one is not much fun. Especially on a Wednesday night, when you’re late home from work, and weak with fatigue, and the temptation to log onto hungryhouse.com and stuff your face with grease and chemicals is overwhelming. I, however, am determined not to give in to the lure of the one-click takeaway, and my advice to anyone who feels the same is simple: make sure your cupboards are always stocked with at least three fresh food staples you can work up into a quick, nutritious hot meal. My staples are potatoes, tomatoes and courgettes. I truly believe that so long as you have these three foodstuffs in your kitchen you will be able to dine like Queen of the World every night, and still get the essential vitamins that will help you to look and feel as perky and smug as most of your coupled acquaintances. Of course, part of the reason any respectable singleton chooses to live alone is so she can eat a massive lump of brie for dinner, with her hands, standing in her underwear in front of an open fridge, with nobody around to judge her. And that’s fine with me. But even the singleton can’t eat cheese every night without seriously endangering her long-term health and beauty. 29
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