I'm Not a Fiend

Funny story – the day we made this dish I had just nearly passed out on the Metro, after completely accidentally not eating all day. It was only 3pm; I don’t know how all those dieters do it. I was feeling a little light-headed, then out of nowhere, tears were streaming down my face, I was clutching the wall, sobbing, floating. A kind gentleman gave me his seat, and I felt like a chump.

Having made it home alive by the skin of my teeth, I dispatched Kamal to supermarket to get some pasta, while I lay in bed quivering and withering away. Nothing but pasta would do at this point – I wanted a huge lump of solid carbohydrate fuel, in my belly, covered in cheese. STAT!

My hero returned, with not just spaghetti, but a big, clattering pack of clams, and all the ingredients to make this dish. What a genius. In a desperate time of need, clam spaghetti ticked all the boxes; it was a provider of the aforementioned carbo-fuel, but it was also tangy, fishy, salty, a little bit messy, slurpy, and sloppy, I could get my hands dirty, it’s all there.

And the best part is, if you cover it in cheese (and hello, why would you not?), all the little clamshells get clogged up with it, giving you dozens of little fishy-cheesy bites to scoop out (or suck out..). 

My bowl of clam spaghetti got me so excited that before I sat down I promptly dropped the whole thing on the floor. There’s not much more annoying than having to clean up a bowl of spaghetti before you’ve even had a bite. You can imagine my pain, right? It’s a difficult time to bring up again. 

Luckily we’d made enough to feed a large family - so another bowl or two was no problem. Soon all was right with the world again.

Ingredients (serves 3-4)

• 1 red onion, diced
• 2 big garlic cloves, finely chopped
• 2-3 fairly big tomatoes, diced
• Tbsp tomato puree
• Juice of 2 lemons
• Handful fresh chopped parsley
• 2 large glasses of white wine 
• Olive oil
• 1 pack of clams
• Enough spaghetti to feed 3-4 people

Method

1. First cook the spaghetti, then set it aside so it’s ready when you are. 
2. Next heat some olive oil on med-high heat in a large pan with a lid, and fry the onion for a couple of minutes, before adding the garlic.
3. When the onions are looking soft, add the tomatoes, parsley (save some to serve), lemon juice and tomato puree. Season with plenty of salt and pepper. Mix it all up and fry for 5-10 mins till the tomatoes are mushing up and looking more saucy.
4. Throw in the wine and the clams, stir it all up, and cover the pan - the clams will steam in all those lovely juices. 
5. Shake the pan occasionally, within about 5 mins all the shells will have opened and it’ll be ready. Then you just need to mix in the cooked spaghetti. Serve up with a little extra chopped parsley, and a mound of cheese, if you’re feeling gluttonous.

On paper, Wishbone and I should be the perfect match. Buffalo wings? Korean wings? Fried chicken, in any context ever? I’m there. We heard about this place, which was to open in Brixton’s Market Row, months ago, and waited on tenterhooks as the August opening got pushed back to September, October, November. Then had to wait another two months till we were back in the country. SUCH PROBLEMS.

Somewhere along the line I lost faith that Wishbone would be worth the wait. I think it was around the time they opened, and I went in search of some juicy chicken pics online to salivate over - instead what I came across was some seriously mixed reviews. Still, I thought, some bloggers and food critics have, in my opinion, moronic taste in food. We’ll give Wishbone a shot.

It was a freeezing cold January Tuesday afternoon when we visited, around 3pm and we’d eaten nothing all day. I for one was gagging for some wings. We ordered buffalo wings, Korean wings, Thai thighs, and fries.

The buffalo wings were the most monstrously big wings I’ve ever encountered. Now I prefer my wings to come disjointed - there’s no delicate way to eat wings, but they might as well throw us this bone, to make it a LITTLE easier. Trying to decide how to come at these wings was like a military operation, deciding what would be the best tactics to invade a small country.

I’m a girl who likes her batter, big time. But don’t underestimate my emphasis when I say: there was a LOT of very thick sauce-soaked batter on these wings. Don’t get me wrong, it tasted GREAT. But it had reached the thickness where I could never achieve a bite containing both batter and meat.

My invasion tactic inevitably became a two-pronged attack - first crack off the skin (which was falling off in huge shards anyway) and devour, then rip off the meat (dousing everything in blue cheese dip along the way, of course). But I really wished I could have taken them both down together. 

The twice-fried Korean wings with fermented chilli and daikon were easier to manage, not coming swathed in a thick batter blanket. We loved the idea for this recipe, and Korean fried chicken is ridiculously hard to find in London, so GOOD CALL, Wishbone. They were super sweet, spicy and sticky -  more successful than the buffalo, but for me they were too sickly sweet. Kamal lost his mind over them though, and I’d give them another chance, so you can’t take my opinion as law.

Thai thighs weren’t, as expected, whole thighs to gnaw on, but little juicy battered nuggets of thigh meat. They came tossed in shallots, chopped mint, chilli and apparently a tamarind dressing - though this was disappointingly undetectable. Despite that, the mint, shallots and chilli gave these lovely nuggets the freshest flavour I’ve ever experienced from fried chicken.

We asked for some of Wishbone’s Asian mayo with ours (which usually comes with the salt ‘n’ pepa thighs), which went so well, I don’t know why they don’t provide it automatically. A truly addictive pairing.

Perhaps I went to Wishbone with unrealistically high expectations, and have been unduly harsh. Looking at the photos has made me reminiscent of the times we had, huddled on high stools around a tiny table, shivering over piles of steamy fried chicken. Maybe it was actually great?? Well for sure it wasn’t perfect. I like their ideas, but they just aren’t executed quite right. 

Wishbone stands out as clearly having had a lot more money pumped into it than much of it’s surrounding Village competition. I’m not one to get on my high horse about this, or, as many people like to wang on about - gentrification. But for all that investment, delays in opening, and clever branding, well, the food should have been incredible. 

Still, if I lived in Brixton, I’m not denying I’d go back. It’s chicken wings for crying out loud!

Wishbone, Unit 12 Market Row, Brixton Market, London SW9 8BR.

We were pretty excited when waking down Brick Lane last weekend to spot The Rib Man’s stall, selling buns stuffed with mountainous piles of sauced up shredded meat. We just about passed out at the sight of how big these things were.

We’ve used one of The Rib Man’s hot sauces, scotch bonnet-based Holy Fuck, millions of times in our cooking in the past. Chicken wings, ribs, pasta sauces, barbecued prawns, salad dressings, curries, when we have a bottle in the house, just about EVERYTHING gets a splash of Holy Fuck to turn up the flavour. Kamal has even taken bottles to his family in Bahrain, we’re evangelical about this stuff. It’s HOT, but when you dilute it within other ingredients, it still has a great smokey flavour to back it up.

As we queued for our sandwich, The Rib Man was pulling the meat off cooked pork ribs - by which I mean the meat was falling off in submission with a mere touch of his hand. That’s some tender meat! 

We topped our rib meat - which was already marinated in a Rib Man original sauce - with his newest creation, a sauce with less tongue-destroying heat, and more tongue-tickling herbiness. I felt giddy with the weight of that boulder of pork in my hands. Then suddenly we found ourselves, empty-handed, in the middle of a busy street, sauce all over our hands, mouths and noses, not really sure what had happened to the last five minutes. But we knew it was good.

Check out his online shop HERE. 

We went to check up on Mei Mei’s again this week - and I can indeed confirm that their jian bings (a popular street food from Beijing) are still delicious, in fact they are better than ever. Working in the cold outside at Ridley Road Market Bar in Dalston on Saturday evening, it was a steamy affair, and Melissa and her bings were a hit with drunkards, security, and bartenders alike.

Kamal’s fave was the hoisin duck, but I was swooning over the char siu pork. Who doesn’t want a hot fresh crepe filled with delicious pork, crispy fried wonton, spring onion, coriander and condiments!?? You’d be mad to hate on jian bings dawwwgggg! We just loooove da bing! 

Watch the video below to get a firsthand look into the beautiful craft of composing a jian bing, filmed by our handy cameraman Charles Prest!

Check out where Mei Mei’s Street Cart is going next on their Facebook or Twitter pages.

I know this might be getting a bit confusing as I am such a globetrotter these days, but I’m back in London for a while. And the whole time I was out of the country there was one place I was desperate to try when I got back - Bone Daddies, baby! 

I’d seen Anthony Bourdain on TV getting lusty over enough pig broths to know that whatever noodle soups I’d had in the past just weren’t cutting it. So when I saw a fair few reviews talking all salacious about a new ramen bar in London, visiting Bone Daddie’s became a top priority.

Bone Daddies in a nutshell is a rock and roll ramen bar. As you walk in, the wall next to you is splattered with photos of tattooed Japanese bikers in denim and leather, and Asahi adverts in the style of classical Japanese art - except the figures are clutching bottles of beer and look, well, modern. As with the food being arguably inspired by New York’s vamped-up ramen craze, the imagery here is a clear illustration of traditional culture being influenced by Americana.

And when you consider that ramen originally comes from China, the whole thing becomes rather like… a Japanese band singing a Ramones cover, in Chinese. In Soho. 

The seating is communal and informal, stools around shared high tables, forcibly breaking down that English barrier of shame associated with being seen eating by strangers. On every table there was an array of little jugs and pots - chilli sauce, soy sauce, cloves of garlic with a crusher (to my glee), and a sesame seed grinder.

Then there was one pot that had us stumped - we stared at the black strands inside it, opened the lid, slowly, tentatively sniffed it. Kamal wondered if they might be vanilla pods? But they were scentless? Then finally it hit us, and we felt like morons - they were hair ties! Presumably so the long-haired customer won’t end up dipping hair in their soup. Actually quite an ingenious move.

We ordered the soft shell crab to start, which was deep fried in a thin batter, and served with a lime and chilli sauce. And God, it was good, it had everything! The legs provided crispiness, the bodies were little juicy pockets of moist meat, with a salty shell that could be peeled off like a gloriously fishy chicken skin. Kamal and I are like kiddies in a sweet shop when we’ve got crabs in front of us, ready to be ripped up. Our joy was well worth the £8..

Kamal ordered the Tonkotsu Ramen, which they describe as being in a 20 hour pork bone broth. And it really, really tasted like PIG. The pure essence of swine in liquid form. A broth as a broth should be. Kamal tends to get bored of a noodle soup, but this pork-fest kept his attention all right. 

I went for the Tantanmen, which has sesame and chilli added to the chicken broth, and pork mince as well as the standard noodles, roast pork slices, bamboo and soft boiled egg. The spicy nuttiness of this rich orange broth felt like it had been tailor-made for my tastebuds. The tantanmen was our favourite of the two dishes, it had a bit more kick and substance. It was just gorgeous. I didn’t even need to add any garlic!

Sometimes with noodle soups, the noodles themselves can feel like a bit of a tasteless afterthought - thrown in at the last second, bringing bulk but no flavour. But these noodles totally soaked up the flavour of the broth, in both dishes. So every single slurpy bite was as good as the last. And the egg! My lord. That super gooey yolk was just about the best and most yolkiest yolk I’ve ever had. It was egg squared. How do they do it??? 

All this was washed down a treat with a cold, refreshing Asahi beer, and I was in my happy place. Maybe I was just feeling misty-eyed about being back in London again, but as soon as the meal was over, I wanted to go back in time to eat it all over again. Is there anywhere like this in Dubai???

Bone Daddies, 31 Peter Street, London, W1F 0AR

The Copper Chimney is one of the oldest Indian restaurants in Bahrain, having been open since 1979, as their sign proudly proclaims. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve had the same decor since opening, so gloriously retro is it, all shiny, dark, carved wood, and beaded fringe curtains depicting Indian landscapes. I love it.

Of course, as with any retro restaurant worth its weight, there are white tablecloths, just begging for me to spill curry all over them. Sometimes I wonder if I should wear a bib. 

The waiters, clad in beaded waistcoats and billowing Aladdin pants, swiftly padded across the slightly hushed restaurant as we sat down. They brought out hot, seeded poppadoms with sliced red onion pickled in vinegar, a minty yogurt dip, and thick lime pickle. Nothing existed in those first few moments but me, those dips, and the poppadoms. I’m not a fan of lime pickle, but the red onions were soft and tangy from the pickling, and minty yogurt is never unwelcome. 

Mini onion pakoras came next, continuing the retro theme by being served on cocktail sticks with a Thousand Island sauce for dipping. Not exactly Indian, but the filthy combination worked. I felt, as I always do when enjoying Thousand Island sauce, ashamed. 

The shish kebab came out like a plate of proudly presented dongs. This is what I maturely wrote in my notes on the meal: “shish kebab - soft and long like a dong, nice if you like that kind of thing”. And that about sums it up. The lamb was almost luminous red with all the spices, and the meat was truly soft, but I just find shish kebab too heavy.

Kamal apologises for the lack of pictures - his breaking down camera couldn’t handle the subdued lighting.

The chicken makhani, or butter chicken, (front) though, was glorious, one of the best I’ve ever tried. When executed right, the thick, creamy sauce and soft chunks of meat in chicken makhani feel like they fell right out of comfort food heaven, and The Copper Chimney executes it right. 

Cubes of chicken tikka were every bit as succulent as you’d expect from cooking in the clay tandoor oven, and even better when dunked in the makhani sauce. 2 in 1!

Unfortunately the gosht yogurt lamb curry (the grey one at the back) we ordered had the consistency of mushroom soup, with not a lot more flavour. I could barely be bothered to try it. 

And now we pause for a word about the raita, a raita like no other. That bowl in the picture is the size of a cereal bowl, and we all got through at least one each. I lost count, it was raita mania up in there! Smooth, fresh, with a sprinkling of cumin on top, everything you put it on or put in it tasted better.

The waiters recommended saffron and pistachio kulfi for dessert, which was presented like a sliced up dong on a plate (oh God, I’m sorry, I’ve gone dong crazy in this review). Luckily it tasted way better. I usually find saffron too weird and floral, but this sweet, nutty context mellowed it out.

For wallowing in a taste of restaurants past, and of some truly delicate spice-balancing, The Copper Chimney will not disappoint. Get the butter chicken, the chicken tikka, some nan (heavily studded with garlic slices) and drown it all in raita. You’ll be happy.

The Copper Chimney is in Al Hambra Hotel in Manama, Bahrain.

Look, I can’t help it. I’ve tried to branch out, I’ve tried sea bass, and bream, and gargofan. But try as I may, I just can’t shake salmon from my mind. I can’t stop running back for more. This stuff is popular for a reason - is there any other fish so pink and fluffy??

We were inspired by the distant memory of a barbecued salmon dish my mum made last summer on holiday in Cornwall to do the foil-wrapped grilling technique. It keeps the fish moist in a way that’s incomparable.

Crushed ginger, garlic and capers make up the backdrop to soy sauce in the marinade here. I can never put my finger on what I think of capers - they have such a confusing, acidic, yet earthy flavour. But that flavour actually really lends itself to this sauce, adding a layer of depth to the vibrant liveliness of fresh ginger and garlic. Who knew they could be utilised outside of Italian food?

To accompany the salmon, we chopped up every vegetable we could find. Tomatoes, red onion, cucumber, red pepper, avocado, grated carrot and spring onion were tossed in a dressing of sesame oil, white vinegar, olive oil, and sesame seeds. The sesame element gave the salad common ground to bond with the salmon over, and they got along like a house on fire!

Ingredients

• 2 salmon fillets
• 3 garlic cloves
• 3cm(ish) chunk of ginger, peeled
• 2 tsps capers
• 3 tbsps soy sauce
• 1 tbsp runny honey
• 2 spring onions, sliced
• Toasted sesame seeds

Method

1. In a pestle and mortar, crush the garlic, ginger and capers to a paste. Then mix this in a jug with the soy sauce, honey, some sesame seeds, and the spring onions. 
2. On a clear, large surface, lay out a piece of tin foil more than big enough to wrap the salmon fillets. Then add two more pieces, so there’s three layers. Fold up the sides a bit so you have something like a big tin foil bowl.
3. Put the salmon fillets in the middle of the foil, then carefully pour over the sauce. 
4. Fold up the sides completely, so they meet in the middle. Scrunch them together like a paper bag. You don’t need to worry about being too perfect over this - I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. As long as the sauce won’t leak out, and there’s no openings, it will be fine.
5. Put the parcel on the barbecue. It will be ready in about ten minutes. Serve with a salad, and some rice if you want to make it a bigger meal. When removing the parcel from the barbecue and unwrapping, be careful not to lose any of the sauce! You want it all!!

Well, being an ardent chorizo advocate, it only comes naturally that sujuk is next on my agenda. Chorizo’s cousin, merguez’s step-brother, this dried beef sausage is most often credited to Turkey, and can be flavoured with cumin, sumac, garlic and red pepper. We sometimes fry it with eggs for breakfast, but this dish, inspired by one at a Lebanese restaurant recently, might be my favourite way to eat sujuk yet.

Here the spiciness of the meat plays along perfectly with the tangy, sour, fruity sauce, made simply with pomegranate molasses and lemon juice. It’s not for the squeamish - it packs a massive flavour punch, as they say. But get a hold of yourself and handle it. The pine nuts are necessary to add that element of crunch that immediately makes any food more satisfying. Adding nuts is always a good idea.

It would make a great side dish among a grand Middle Eastern platter, of grilled meats, dips, and breads, for example. I’m thinking about soaking that juice up, FM Mangal style, if you know what I’m saying?! Yeah, you know what I’m saying!

Ingredients

• Half a ring of sujuk, roughly sliced
• 3-4 tbsps pomegranate molasses
• Juice of 1 lemon
• Handful of pine nuts, toasted
• Chilli flakes
• Sumac
• Fresh chopped chives

Method

1. Combine the molasses and lemon juice in a jug. Add a generous helping of sumac, and a little sprinkle of chilli flakes. 
2. Heat a frying pan on medium, and dry fry the slices of sujuk for just a minute or two on each side. The fat within them will melt out, providing enough oil to cool the meat.
3. Pour in the molasses mixture, and stir everything around till it starts bubbling. 
4. Put everything onto a deep plate or bowl, and sprinkle the pine nuts and chives over the top. 

We came across Kimchikin while browsing the rather limited food blogs Dubai has to offer (cough-scoping out the competition-cough). We saw the words “Korean” and “fried chicken” shining out like a beacon of light and hope. Two of our favourite foods in the world, combined?? This could be life-changing. Mere hours later (having dropped everything), we were there, glinty-eyed, awaiting our wings. 

The menu has a few noodle, salad, and rice options, but chicken is obviously the primadonna at Kimchikin. We ordered a ton of Spicy Kim Krispy Wings and a small portion of Chilli Tomato Yangnyum Chicken pieces, with kimchi, kimchi coleslaw, fries and sour radish as sides. Then a Bulgogi Hotdog as well. Why not??

Having ordered at the counter, we entertained ourselves reading the post-it notes covering the walls, many from Kimchikin’s clearly adoring fans (and one from a Jesus fan), and watching Korean pop on the TV. 

The kimchi was excellent, the kimchi coleslaw possibly even better (on any other day, give me two vats of these and I’d be happy) and even the fries were taken to the next level with a sprinkling of some kind of herby salt.

The “small portion” of Yangnyum chicken was a pretty big bowl of fried chicken chunks, glistening in a coating of thick, syrupy, sticky hot sauce that had collected in a gooey pool at the bottom. HELLO. It was delicious, but still nothing on what was to come.

Our banquet-sized platter of wings arrived, and you can see straight away that Korean fried chicken is a whole different thing to American fried chicken. The thin, super-crispy coating of batter is smooth, shiny and neat, rather than knobbly and breaded. And unlike the Yangnyum, or buffalo wings for example, here there is just an unassuming lick of sauce, soaked up into the batter.

It might look like these wings are distressingly sauce-less, but oh don’t be fooled. Kimchikin add just the right amount of sauce to add that sweet, tart kimchi flavour, without making the batter soggy. For the first time in Kamal’s life he didn’t ask for extra sauce. Take a moment to process that information - this is the self-proclaimed Sauce King we’re talking about!

I thought I’d seen it all, but this was a wings revelation. It’s all achieved through a two-stage cooking process, under strictly controlled temperatures - gently cooking the meat through without burning the crispy jacket. No messing around. And it gets results. Here Kamal’s sister demonstrates how to eat wings with chopsticks.

After rolling around in the glory of these wings for a while, we finally got to the bulgogi beef hotdog. I soon realised that a) it wasn’t actually a hotdog, and b) it was really great! Rather than a sausage, the fluffy bun was stuffed with shredded beef in a soy, sesame and garlic based bulgogi marinade, then topped with some extremely mayonnaise-y salad.

Almost forgotten among all the chicken, and ordered as an afterthought in a moment of greed, this hotdog was like the under-appreciated younger sibling of a child genius, who then turns out to be a secret dance prodigy. Or something like that. I’d almost recommend going to Kimchikin just for the bulgogi hotdog, if the chicken wasn’t so damn good. 

The post-it note wallpaper lend Kimchikin the air of being an independent local hero. But since eating there, we have discovered that it’s a franchise of Bonchon Chicken, a New York born Korean fried chicken chicken chain. And this changes things somehow. Kimchikin has lost a bit of its charm in my eyes. 

Not so much that I wouldn’t go back though. Let’s not be melodramatic.

Kimchikin is on Sheikh Khalifa bin Zayed Road, near Burjuman Centre, in Dubai.

Oh chorizo. In your own fatty, spicy, porky way, you are eternally good to seafood everywhere. You elevate squid, par exemple, from the delicious, to the sublime. And in this perfect partnership, you spawned these squid and chorizo tacos, spreading joy to all those who sample a taste (so far just Kamal and I). We are not worthy. 

Cooking the squid rings and chorizo chunks in a simple marinade of crushed garlic, fresh parsley, lemon juice and olive oil was as far as we needed to go. I find this is the best seasoning for really complementing and bringing out the flavour of your main ingredients - I mean, who wants to mask the flavour of chorizo? You crazy??!

The salsa we made for this was HOT (remember Holy Fuck sauce?), but adding some soothing sour cream and slices of avocado douses the flames. 

Here is a tip - you never need as much filling as you think you do. You may chuckle smugly to yourself as you heap on sour cream to your mountain of meat that OH THIS IS A JUICY BIG ONE, this is going to be great!!! But it will explode and drip all down your face and clothes. And who’s laughing then?? 

Ingredients

• 4 tortilla wraps (we used jalapeno and coriander ones, but plain wouldn’t be too much of a compromise, I GUESS)
• 1 pack of fresh squid rings (these were easily available in all supermarkets in Bahrain, and squid isn’t too hard to find in the UK either)
• Half a chorizo ring, chopped into little pieces
• Juice of 2 lemons
• Handful of fresh, chopped parsley
• 3 garlic cloves, crushed
• 1 carrot, grated
• 1-2 avocados, sliced
• 1 tub of sour cream (add chopped chives or parsley if you wish)
• 2 big, soft, ripe tomatoes, diced
• 1 red onion, finely diced
• 2 tsps tomato puree
• Few drops of Holy Fuck sauce
• Cayenne pepper, salt & pepper
• A few lime wedges, to serve

Method

1. In a bowl, combine the squid rings and chorizo chunks with the garlic and parsley, the juice of one lemon, and some olive oil. 
2. To make the salsa, get another bowl and combine the diced tomatoes, red onion, tomato puree, Holy Fuck sauce and the juice of the second lemon. Season with cayenne pepper, salt and pepper. 
3. Fry the squid and chorizo on a medium heat. This shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, the squid cooks quickly and you want the chorizo to just start getting crispy. 
4. Heat the tortillas, either in a dry pan, microwave or oven. This again should just take a minute or two! 
5. Layer squid, chorizo, avocado, carrot, salsa and sour cream in a tortilla (as shown in our rather nifty gif), squeeze a lime wedge over it for extra zing, and wrap it up!