Spectator Life

The odd torrential thunderstorm aside, the summer is in full swing. Hurrah! Of course, most of us are going to have to enjoy it here in Blighty rather than sur le continong or in the Maldives or Mauritius, so ridiculously complex and uncertain does travel abroad remain. But, heck, if we can’t neck fine Provencal rosé by some sun-dappled French pool then we can darn well drink well here. France can come to us in vinous form and we can wallow with joy in our native vino too, with English sparklers and still wines better than ever. Transport yourself with my following suggestions for a great British summer.

The great British summer is upon us. And, since few of us are venturing abroad, now might be the time to enjoy this season’s round of 'makeaway' boxes and bring something special to those long overdue barbecues. Upgrading the supermarket burger and sausage shop to fancy charcoal-griddled kebab part prepared by a catering professional has never been easier thanks to the array of cook at home boxes emerging from shuttered restaurants during lockdowns. Plus, it’s a mighty easy way to impress pals not seen for many months. All you need is the requisite Pimms, enough firelighters and a few sun dances.

One of the great sorrows of the pandemic has been India. Its own harrowing experience of the virus has been dreadful to see. And less importantly but still poignantly, India’s disappearance from the list of possible destinations for travel for the foreseeable future has created a sense of morose yearning among those itching to get back. So long as we’re barred from going, London is perhaps the best city on earth to recreate some of the finest ambience, tastes and smells of the subcontinent and with that in mind I set out to experience the best of India through a clutch of sophisticated restaurants only a Tube ride away.

Summer barbecues open up a wealth of opportunity for culinary exploration. Here are four tips for taking your barbecuing to the next level, followed by three of my recipes to try for yourself: lamb cutlets with asparagus, garlicky prawns and the delightfully colourful Pepper Piedmontese. Each of these dishes have been paired with wine chosen by Andrew Peace so that you can bring out the very best of those barbecue flavours.  Choose your charcoal wisely Food cooked over an open fire has a different flavour altogether than food cooked on the stove or in the oven. For the best flavour use sustainably sourced British charcoal which burns longer so you’ll use less and isn’t packed with chemicals like mass-produced charcoal.

There are few things more comforting than a pie, but often that level of comfort is directly proportional to the amount of effort required to make it. Pastry bases that must be prepared, then chilled, lined, blind baked and re-baked; fillings that require pre-cooking, or sauces that need thickening. Not so with spanakopita. Spanakopita is a Greek cheese and spinach pie, encased in several layers of filo pastry, each sheet painted with butter or oil; once baked it is golden brown and crisp on the outside, and soft inside, fresh from the herbs, and rich and salty from the cheese. Filo is forgiving and easy to handle, the butter-brushing smoothing the filo into your pie dish, as well as bringing colour and flavour.

In Tokyo the 32nd Olympic games are well underway and unless you’re trying for a medal chances are you’re watching from home. Not to worry though, as London is full of ways to get a taste of Japan while travel restrictions remain in place. Here are some of the best places to eat and drink like you’re in Tokyo this summer. Sakaya at Pantechnicon, Belgravia Now up and running after lockdown delays, the ambitious Pantechnicon development offers Japanese and Nordic dining across multiple stories. Sakaya bar and bottle shop, occupies a little corner on the ground floor. The four-seater venue is inspired by Japanese Izakaya – traditional drinking spots that range in size from something like a pub to tiny counters folded into alleyways and subway stations.

I have an ambivalent attitude to sushi. It has become, on the one hand, one of the favoured foods of the joyless ‘clean eating’ and perpetually-dieting brigade. On the other, sushi is as delicious as it is healthy; filling but not heavy; dainty but not pretentious. No need to feel abashed then about being a sushi fan: just get your tips from an itamae (sushi chef) rather than Gwyneth Paltrow. Making sushi at home makes a lot of sense. A sushi dinner for the family is suddenly a more affordable proposition, and it is surprisingly easy. It is also one of those foods that is essentially the same effort whether you’re serving one person or a dozen: perfect party food then, if you’re getting together with friends to watch the latest Olympics action from Tokyo.

I don’t know about you, but my brain has felt like soup for the last week. If I were to see you in real life, I would probably say to you ‘My brain feels like soup; does yours?’ and then ten minutes later I’d ask the same question, because my brain is soup and I am incapable of normal human behaviour. I am, it turns out, not made for heat. Or at least, not made for it in a context where I’m required to work and commute and make decisions and reply sensibly to emails, rather than lie in the shade on a sun lounger reading a trashy book until it’s time to go out for dinner and cocktails. In England we are simply not made for such scorching temperatures.

We have all become rather used to socialising outside. Thanks to the pandemic, for perhaps the first time in our national history, al fresco dining has become the norm well outside of the summer months. We shivered under wraps for the last nine months only to finally be allowed to socialise indoors once more just at the moment when we’re all keen to light up the barbecue and enjoy the warmth outdoors. Nothing compares to the pleasure of a lunch or dinner en plein air in the summer months. It sharpens the appetite and provides happy opportunities for people or garden watching when the conversation bores. Sometimes you can even get away with taking off your shoes. The appeal lies above all in its novelty.

In one sense, a madeleine is simply a small cake. In fact, it’s an extremely classic cake, made with the genoise method. But there’s more to a madeleine than that: the proportions of madeleines, their miniature nature and scalloped shape, mean that they have a perfect contrast between their slightly sticky, almost crisp outside, and impossibly light and soft interior. Traditionally they are made with browned butter, which does what browned butter does best, bringing depth and complexity to a straightforward sponge. The dark muscovado and honey in the recipe elevate these little sponges from a miniature cake into something really special. The holy grail when madeleine making are those characteristic bumps in the centre of the cake, sitting like pregnant tummies.

Some say it not only looks like something you might be encouraged to down in order to soothe an irritating cough, it tastes like it, too. But that hasn't stopped the Negroni - the vibrant concoction composed of Campari, red vermouth and gin - being adopted as the drink of choice among the more chic members of the Instagram generation.  The true origins of the somewhat fey but often deceptively punchy 'standard' Negroni are as hazy as you're likely to feel in the morning after one too many.

Until this week I don’t think my mother had ever in her life watched a football game. Wednesday changed that, marking the start of her new-found frenzy and puns about England’s 'Sterling effort!' (to squeals of laughter from her female friends gang). Now they’re in a state of hysterical excitement and are busy planning their match day. Football really is coming home. With nobody – including mum – minded to spend all day slaving away in the kitchen, food for Sunday’s game needs to be quick, easy and ideally unhealthy. Here are some ideas. Baked cheese A baked brie or camembert – or even better a British cheese like Baron Bigod or Tunworth – is one of the very easiest and most satisfying things you can make.

Some dishes are just meant to be shared. I’m not talking about those items you buy on a hangover from the corner shop that sanctimoniously declare ‘meant for sharing’ or ‘share size’ on their passive aggressive packaging (I’ll be the judge of that, cheese and onion crisps and chocolate fingers). I mean something that you’ve invested energy and love into, something which demands to be passed around, praised and enjoyed; something impressive and delicious. A homemade cassoulet. A perfect chocolate cake. A batch of scones. A gala pie. The moment of cutting into a gala pie, and revealing the perfect row of eggs suspended in meat minced by your own fair hands is one of serious culinary pride.

Dust off the novelty apron, dig out the rust-flecked spatula, and get the golf umbrella on stand-by –barbecue season has arrived. As a nation, we’ve come a long way from the carbonised sausages and long-life rolls that defined the Great British Barbecue™ in years gone by. However, it’s no good cooking like a Texan pitmaster if your drinks offering lets the side down. Butcher Lyle Wheeler of South East London institution Flock and Herd has seen first-hand the way our cooking habits have changed in recent years and he has some great advice on what to drink when your grilling. These are some of the best barbecue and booze pairings to impress your mates with this summer.

Graphologists have long busied themselves studying Prince Charles’s handwriting in the ‘black spider memos’ for clues as to the personality of our future King. And in recent months kinesicists have been wheeled out from obscurity to sit on breakfast show sofas to opine on Harry and Meghan’s body language in that interview. But perhaps royal watchers are looking in the wrong place for insight. 'Tell me what you eat and I will tell you who you are.' So declared the celebrated gastronome Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin. Diana apparently liked to wander into the royal kitchens to cook her own pasta and chat with the chefs which provides a glimpse into the discomfort she felt at the perceived constraints of her position. But what of the other royals?

On a balmy summer’s day, few things can beat a lazy lunchtime spent beside the sea. Just ask the G7 leaders, who enjoyed a leisurely barbecue on the beach during their Cornish escapades. Stand-out seafood, unspoilt views across the waves and that care-free atmosphere particular to British seaside escapes await those clued up on the best beach eateries. From Cornish cliffsides to Scottish shores, here’s a pick of the best cafes, shacks and restaurants along the 30,000-odd kilometres of British coastline. The Hut, Colwell Bay, Isle of Wight If the past is a foreign country, then a summer trip to the nostalgia-soaked Isle of Wight might pass as a far-flung holiday adventure this year.

I have never been a huge fan of cold soup. It has always seemed to me to be contrary to everything good about soup: soup is inherently warming and cheering. It demands large portions and an accompanying doorstep of bread. Who on earth would want to chill it down and serve it in tiny portions – and without bread and butter? Madness! Historically, I have made an exception for gazpacho and salmorejo on the basis that they hail from hot countries, and that they aren’t thickened with dairy. But I drew the line at what I thought of as hot soups served cold. Vichyssoise was doubtless the worst of them: give me a vat of hot leek and potato, but spare me the cold stuff. Sometimes, we don’t get what we want, we get what we need.

While most parades and public fireworks displays have been called off for 4 July, it is still an excellent excuse for a good old American knees up. Good food and drink are key to any Independence Day party. From smoky barbeque joints to slinky speakeasies, here are the best places to celebrate in London. The Stafford The Stafford Hotel’s American bar was designed to dispel any sense of homesickness among visiting Americans in 1920s and 1930s London. Day-to-day items donated by visitors over the decades, from baseball caps to toy aeroplanes, dangle haphazardly from the ceiling. It is one of the longest surviving American bars in the city and a plaque on the wall commemorates world war two resistance fighter Nancy Wake, who stopped by every day at 11 a.m.

Wimbledon is back. Having been cancelled last year, it is now one of the pilot events chosen as part of the Government Event Research Programme, with 50 per cent capacity crowds on the main courts at the start rising to full capacity for the semi-finals and finals. What is more, organisers have said Murray Mound will also be open to spectators and the grumpy Scot himself has been given a wildcard qualification for this year’s tournament. Those attending can look forward to suffocating in their face masks as they move from court to court in the June heat. Thankfully, masks will not be required once seated in the stands and so spectators can swig at their Pimms and scoff their strawberries and cream with abandon.

There aren’t many veggie stews that can lay claim to being immortalised in popular culture. Fewer still that could then complain about being grossly misrepresented. But then ratatouille is no ordinary vegetable stew. Ratatouille is a Provençal dish, made by gently cooking aubergine, courgette, and red peppers, with a tomato sauce flavoured with onion, garlic and herbs. It is, in many ways, extremely simple. But for all its simplicity, it remains the subject of confusion. If you watch Pixar’s Ratatouille, you will see the terrifying food critic, Anton Ego, reduced to a Proustian state of rapture when served what we are told is ratatouille, making him recall his childhood and his mother’s cooking.

Back when the dinosaurs still thought they were the bees-knees, another little creature was gently making its way into the big wide world. And now, more than 150 million years later – having withstood at least one planetary-wide annihilation (the one that knocked T-Rex off his perch) – the humble oyster may be on the cusp of making history itself.That’s because this simple bivalve mollusc, cultivated on our shores since Roman times, really could help save the planet, albeit this time from an annihilation of man’s own making.