Did you notice the 2^nd line?

Sometimes, just sometimes, you get a sign from fate and you have to follow your instincts. Yesterday, I got such a sign. Which might explain why I am now the proud owner of yet another cookbook - a huge one at that - and quite a bit poorer... Actually, I'm the proud owner and Skat is a little bit poorer :-)

As usual, we went to Borough Market yesterday. Celebrations were on for the 250^th anniversary. Happy Birthday! We were there to purchase the ingredients for a dinner we were preparing for our friends from Berkeley, CA who introduced us to Dungeness Crab. So quite a tall order, you might agree. I wanted some bresaola from Gastronomica, and who do I see sitting outside this favourite Italian deli? Giorgio Locatelli himself.

Now, this wasn't the first time I came face to face with the dishevelled chef (great alliteration, that one) as I had talked to him 2 years ago at one of the first Taste of London fairs. He was one of the very few chefs who was there in person throughout the weekend and we got to taste alot more than what our tokens could buy since he is so enthusiastic about sharing great products (the best Taleggio, the pungent Nduja from Calabria, etc.) And there he was again, signing his book 'Made in Italy - Food and Stories'. I had read about it, leafed through it in bookshops and decided that it was going on my birthday and Christmas wish lists (both in December, since you ask. Although you might already know that about X-mas...).

But how often are you presented with such a sign from fate? It didn't take much coaxing from Skat to get me to stand in line, groupie-like and ask the Signore to sign a copy to me... and my blog! I guess I was further convinced at the thought of the free slice of the HUMONGOUS finocchiona salami (pictured below) you got when buying a copy of the book... That will be on the menu tonight, with some marinated artichokes, just like we had it in Florence for our 1^st honeymoon. And to top it all, the ever-friendly staff wrapped my newest purchase in the same kind of brown paper as the salami and the bresaola. I'm a sucker for packaging! 

The book? Where should I start? It's massive, so I guess the price-per-kilo is very reasonable. It has photos of food and people which make you want to jump right in. One 'Need to make that soon, it looks so good' recipe after another. The lay-out is modern and old-fashioned at the same time, which I think is what you might call retro. The photos are long and slim, which I have tried to copy in the picture below. The editorial bit is both interesting and informative and very personal. And it has no fewer than 3 black ribbons to bookmark the pages! But above all, I have fallen head-over-heals for the colour around the text explaining the most important products. The colour reminds me of an olive-leaf, as perceived when there are millions of them in front of you. That silvery shimmery green which is so unique. I know, I know, it's ridiculous, but there you go. Hero-worshipping and waxing lyrical about a book lay-out is the order of the day.

The figs? What figs? Oh, the multi-tasking ones! They came about accidentally, as do alot of recipes I guess. Mine do, at any rate. I have long been a fan of fresh figs with parma ham and some mild runny honey, but I had never cooked with them. And no, there is no connection with Locatelli what-so-ever. I had decided to blog about my figgy stuff before I got his book, I'll let you know!

I was cooking lentils with sausage on a pleasingly colder autumn day, with a side of sweet and sour figs (recipe from 'Crasy Water, Pickled Lemons'), when it all started.

50 ml red wine vinegar

50 ml balsamic vinegar

50 ml sherry vinegar

75g caster sugar

1 x 5cm piece of cinnamon stick (or 1 tsp ground cinnamon)

350g fresh figs, halved

Put the vinegars in a sauceppan with the sugar and cinnamon. Dissolve the sugar over a low heat, then bring to the boil. Turn the heat down immediately and simmer for 5-10 minutes. Add the figs and simmer for another 10 minutes or until the mixture is slightly syrupy. It thickens more as it cools.

The smell of those figs was tantalisingly tempting, but I bravely resisted and I'm glad I did, as this allowed me to use the left-overs again, and again, and again.

I first served them with the lentils and sausages, where they balanced the fattiness and stodginess, and lifted the dish to a new level. I then chopped one of them into the dish a few days later when I was eating the left-overs at work. But I still had some left. So I added some more balsamic and sherry vinegar, whizzed it in a food processor and used it in a vinaigrette with walnut oil. And that was the accidental master-stroke! I used it for a main course salad of smoked duck breast, gizzard, frisée salad and halved grapes. Scrumptious! And then last night for the starter where I drizzled it over some wild salad greens (I recognised nasturtium but not much else of the peppery mix), shavings of apple and pear and thin, thin slices of bresaola. A new favourite was born. It was like the embodiment of the season on a plate, in a mouthful.

Must go now, need to make some more of those figs before I can't get any fresh ones any longer!

In my last post, I promised to write about meat next time. And what better meat to write about, than the one served at Smiths of Smithfields, straight from London's meat market opposite? I have been there a mere handful of times, and inevitably, I end up ordering the same 2 dishes. Admittedly, the chef's signature dishes, but how unadventurous is that? My only consolation comes every time my more adventurous husband tastes what I have ordered and - also inevitably- says 'What I ordered is really really good. But what you ordered is just unbelievably fantastic!'. And sure enough, last Tuesday, it didn't fail.

We were there to celebrate my cousin's birthday, as we have decided unilaterally to further his foodie education while he furthers his literary education here in London for a year. We'll see at the end of the year what he has learnt most...

Smiths of Smithfield (or SoS) is a great concept with a huge bar on the ground floor which serves scrumptious brunch on weekends, a champagne & cocktail bar on the 1^st floor, a 'casual' restaurant on the 2^nd floor and a very posh-nosh restaurant on the Top Floor with views over London. Or so they claim, I have not eaten there. Yet. Hint-hint.

So we started the evening with a cocktail or 2, before moving upstairs. Where I ordered my usual: lucky squid and crispy belly of pork with green sauce and mashed potatoes. The lucky squid is melt-in-the-mouth tender, and buried under a mound of fried garlic and chillies. Firy, yet light. The perfect starter. But the true star is the pork belly. How can such an unappealing name hide such glorious tastes and sensations? The meat is stringy and tender as butter, all the fat under the skin has melted away and the skin is the most lost-for-words crackling crackling (how else to describe it?) I have ever set teeth in. My cousin followed suit on the main course and was just as WOW'ed as I was. The green sauce (another fetching appellation, don't you find?) is a kind of salsa verde, but I can't quite place the exact herbs they use. And I won't even try, as I love the atmosphere in SoS and being able to recreate their dish in my own kitchen would rob me of the excuse of going there.

P.S. Yes, I take photos in restaurant. No, I don't know if my husband and cousin were embarassed.