the mad turk, stamford - review

An hour is longer than I'd usually travel for a meal. Especially when that's mostly doing 70 on a motorway - that’s some distance. But with a weekend planned at the in-laws in the Bucks village of Emberton, not paying a maiden visit to The Mad Turk in (relatively) nearby Stamford was not an option. It is my cousin's gaff after all.

Stamford is a town that has, before now, sat firmly on my 'heard of it, but not a priority’ list. If it's on yours, move it to the 'go visit quick' list. Steeped in history with a core of 17th–18th century stone buildings, older timber-framed buildings and straddling the River Welland, the town is quite the quintessentially English picture. 

Not to mention it carries some celebrity gravitas: Stamford has starred in period dramas like Pride & Prejudice and Middlemarch, and it was voted the best place to live in the UK by The Sunday Times last year. 

But where it excels in sparkling-river beauty and cobbled streets, it somewhat lacks in its international cuisine offering. 

“There isn’t another Turkish or Greek restaurant anywhere around here - the closest Greek place is in Cambridge!”, Head Chef (and my big cuz) Ertunch Kazim explained.

“I doubt our food competes with some of the excellent Turkish restaurants in London, but dishes are authentic to our heritage and people seem to like it”.

Well Ertunch, you may be my abi, but you are wrong. Your food does compete with London establishments, and strongly.

Husband and wife team Ertunch and Shelly Kazim (both with Turkish Cypriot heritage) have identified and filled a gap in the Stamford market. Seats are filled each service, there’s a lot of affirmation on TripAdvisor and diners are travelling some distance to visit. Set in a listed building with the moodily-lit main dining area just below street level and a large sunny terrace out the back, The Mad Turk is a place where you could easily spend a few hours grazing on a plate of mezze or eight.

On the note of the mezzes, they are top draw. Changed daily according to the best produce Chef can get his hands on, they take the classics we’re so accustomed to and bolster them with a bit of creative flare (order the mixed mezzes for two for the full range that day - £15.99). The taramasalata is made with prawn and salmon meat along with the roe, creating an altogether richer and more indulgent dip. The spuds in the potato salad were blushed pink, stained from the presence of beetroot, a little acidity from vinegar, lifted by parsley.

Calamari squid rings were the most substantial I’ve encountered; great big bastards you could hurl over empty glass bottles and win a soft toy with at a fair. Coarsely breaded, fried and surprisingly tender despite their meatiness. A dish of well-executed chickpeas cooked in a tomato sauce with a bit of chilli pepper heat were very much like the white beans I ate in Istanbul (see 6) but with a different choice of pulse. The epitome of simplicity done well and one of my favourite Turkish dishes (ever) because of it. 

Smoky aubergine flesh layered with garlic-laced yoghurt, chargrilled vegetables and a spicy tomato sauce was difficult to leave alone, and more charred aubergine mixed with yoghurt, spinach and sumac was equally attention-seeking. How I briefly lamented over the absence of dolma (stuffed vine leaves) and arnavut cigeri (sautéed lambs liver) - it just wasn’t their day. Reasons to return on their own.

Whilst the Turks love their vegetables, pulses and bread, no meal is complete without meat. Theirs is supplied by local Grasmere farm and butchers, just a few timber building-fronts down the road.

Kadin budu (translated as “lady’s thigh” because of the way they’re shaped) are mounds of lamb mince, onion and potato, seasoned with herbs and spices; these tasted like my (and Ertunch’s) aunt’s, which is just about the best acclaim they can have (£5.99).

Then it was time for the big boys. As is typical of Turkish hospitality, you will rarely order a main course that couldn’t easily feed two, whether you’re in Stamford or Green Lanes. The Iskender (my "King of kebabs") had very well-seasoned and spiced lamb koftes served on a bed of pitta with thick yoghurt, garlic and a spicy tomato sauce (£13.99). A plate swimming with juices crying out to be mopped-up along with tender, flavoursome meat. My single niggle being I like more yoghurt on my Iskender. But then I’d put yoghurt in my coffee if I could get away with it. 

Kuzu pirzola (lamb cutlets) are marinated overnight and were exceptionally succulent because of this treatment (£14.99). Sporting a char from the lick of flames, I ripped the thin strips of meat from the length of bone with my teeth and enjoyed it immensely. 

My cousin also chucked in a few bits of lamb shish to try. I never order lamb shish, and for good reason. I don’t believe I’ve ever spent less than five minutes chewing and (eventually) swallowing a mouthful. But these were hunks of lamb steak without a trace of gristle and yielding pink juices at the centre (£14.99). One of the kitchen staff later told me Ertunch spends two hours a day removing every scrap of sinew from his lamb shish meat. Good grief, it’s mighty glorious for it.

Expect Ertunch and Shelly to wind down with the guests once service is done with complimentary shots of (that oh-so-lethal spirit) Raki making the rounds, the full-flow of conversation, warm hugs with regulars and newbies alike, and a little bit of shoulder-shimmying if the night calls for it.

A wonderful example of a great evening with very good eating beyond the green belt. Good work, cuz.

Liked lots: location, atmosphere, interiors, evident warmth of hosts shown to all guests, mezzes, locally-sourced meat, awesome kitchen staff - all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and really keen, the doumbek drum making an appearance
Liked less: finding a parking space can be a little challenging on busy evenings 
Good for: groups, romantic meals, receiving genuine Turkish-Cypriot hospitality with authentic food, ending the day spent wandering around the town

My rating: 4/5

[One thing folk should know about us Turks is that we don’t mince our words. If the borek is good, we will praise it; if the meat is dry, we will say so, be you market-trader, restaurateur, or my aunt. 

So, despite the blood-related bias many will assume this review has, I write it sporting the same hat as with all my reviews - the hat of objectivity based on facts and uninfluenced by perks, relationships, or the sharing of genes.]

Afiyet olsun.

NB Whilst I wasn't specifically invited as a guest to review this restaurant, I wasn't charged for my meal because, well, because I'm family.

great british chefs supperclub by selina periampillai - review

There are few things more attractive on a Saturday afternoon than the prospect of an extended multi-course lunch in the comfort of a friend's home, with fellow food-nut obsessives and menu items devised by some of the UK’s top chefs. It has all the necessary elements to guarantee a good story - wonderful food and raucous company, not to mention no washing up (for the guests at least).




Such was the invitation I found myself RSVP-ing to with great enthusiasm last week; a meal hosted and cooked by Selina Periampillai from Yummy Choo Eats was the format of the afternoon. All we had to do to earn such a treat was share a little about the evening and the recipes through our blogs; I know a good deal when I see one.

I am well acquainted with Selina’s tasty handiwork, from the Mauritian pop-up I scoffed my way through with all the fervour of a bullmastif on a new chew toy, to the food stall Selina has commandeered at several events I’ve attended, to an educational dhal puri making class taught in Balham - the girl can cook.

All dishes on the agenda were chosen from the vast database of recipes found on the Great British Chefs website - a well-known digital publisher providing those who are partial to cooking up a storm with an unrivalled collection of over 1500 recipes and tips from the best chefs in the country. Staying close to where Selina’s cooking expertise lie, the plates selected were mostly of Indian and tropical heritage, fanning our appetites with bold, fresh flavours and vibrant colours.

A bottle of wine to compliment each course was kindly selected and provided by Corney & Barrow, independent wine merchants since 1780. Entertainment came in the form of wonderful dining companions and fellow food-fanatics of the London food scene: @Clerkenwell_boy, Katy from @Feelgd_Foodbk, Laura from @digestmag, and Sally from @thecafecat.  

Here's the running order of the feast we devoured over several hours, the recipes on the Great British Chefs website, and the chef who invented it:

Starters

• Salumi 'nduja bhajis (adapted by Selina with Iberico chorizo) by Marcello Tully - savoury crisp bites with chicken and pork and flavoured with seeds and spices 
• Wine - Marsannay Domaine Joseph Roty 2008 - raspberry and strawberry flavours; very elegant and almost feminine

• Grilled aubergine rolls by Alfred Prasad - grilled slices wrapped around a spiced quinoa and paneer filling
• Lightly curried chicken with mango mayonnaise by Galton Blackiston - succulent and mild chunks of meat with a fruity mayonnaise jazzed up with lime
• Indian potato cakes by Alfred Prasad (and Selina's coriander chutney) - chickpeas and spices pad out these well-flavoured bites with a lively chutney
• Wine - Puligny-Montrachet Domaine Francois Carillon 2011 - warm fruit and biscuit flavours

Mains

• Peshwari lamb kebab by Alfred Prasad - marinated with raw papaya to tenderise, garlic, ground chilli, fennel, cream and grilled until tender
• Wine - Gevrey-Chambertin Clos des Varoilles 1er Cru Domaine des Varoilles 2007 - black fruits and gentle spices
• Zaffrani pulao by Alfred Prasad - braised basmati rice with cumin, whole spices and saffron for a simple yet flavoursome and hearty side
• Mango salad by Alfred Prasad - light and zingy with cress, tomatoes, coconut, walnuts and lime
• Seared bream with roasted aubergine, tomato and potato crush and kachumber by Vivek Singh - best-friend flavours and textures along with a fresh Indian salsa; the onion seeds make it
• Wine - Chablis 1er Cru Vaillons Domaine Vincent Dampt 2011 - good acidity cutting through the plate

Dessert

• Pineapple upside-down cake, spiced rum caramel, and Devonshire clotted cream by Marcus Wareing - quite the finish, sweet and boozy with an outstanding crust, works wonders with the clotted cream
• Wine - L'Effronte Moelleux Domaine Matrot 2007 - sweet wine so smaller pours, serve from the fridge and open before the kebab course

A huge thanks to Selina for putting in the hard work to host and feed us for the day, to Great British Chefs for the recipes and ingredients, and for Corney & Barrow for the very quaffable lubrication.

Until next time.

Afiyet olsun.

ba shan, soho - review

Chinese restaurants get a lot of stick. At least, they do from me. This is because most of them are appalling. 

Greasy piles of substandard meat and carbs swimming in radioactive sauces, slopped onto plates or stuffed into tin vessels, with a side of self-loathing big enough to make you want to drain the MSG directly from your veins. Menus read of generic fried vegetables with a stock protein in a thick sauce, dozens of chow mein options, and a selection of sweet and sour dishes and fried rices; plates of fodder adapted to be blander, thicker and sweeter for the Western palate. This is not what Chinese people eat. 

These routine menu items do nothing to accurately represent the full repertoire of Chinese cuisine: the country is enormous, as is the range of cooking that goes on there. Food is regional and style is distinctive, with influences taken from resources, climate, geography, history, cooking techniques and lifestyle.

The province of Hunan is located in the south-central part of China; a little piece of it can also be found in Soho with the name of Ba Shan above the door. Owned by the people who run the Szechuan sister, Barshu, over the road, it boasts an all Hunanese menu developed with Chinese food expert Fuchsia Dunlop. If your idea of a great meal is having your chops whalloped with fire and flavour, there is little need to entertain the thought of dining anywhere else in town.

Piquant preserved yard-long beans chopped into chewy segments provided an unusual but stellar texture for the vegetable. Stir-fried with stiff boards of salty Chinese bacon and slithers of preserved crisp garlic, it was a piled high plate of spicy and savoury splendour. 

Square slabs of crispy fried tofu with soft middles saturated with black bean sauce squelched between the teeth, the dark viscous extract coating the inside of the mouth with its sloppy fermented pungency. Both plates were furnished with festive chunks of hot green chillies and even hotter red and both had me at their complete mercy - these are precisely the sort of flavour sensations my palate craves for on a daily basis.

A heap of aubergine mush pounded into submission with garlic and sesame presented still in its mortar, and a plate of slippery wood ear fungus, did wonders at pacifying blistering tongues. The glistening quivering dark mushrooms looked freshly hauled from a sea bed; dressed with vinegar, garlic and chillies they were cool, tangy, crunchy and slipped down barely touching the sides.

The restaurant decoration keeps with tradition, with Chinese lanterns, dark wood and walls adorned with images of Chairman Mao. Service was perfectly acceptable; whilst perplexity flashed across the faces of several waiters at the request of additional coriander (a request left unfulfilled - ‘it’s just for decoration, we don’t have any more’), tea was topped up, words were said smiling and despite advance warning of a 1.5hr time limit for the table, we were there for two with no problem. In other words, for a Chinese restaurant, the service was excellent.

The heat from Hunanese cuisine, whilst almost ubiquitous in its presence, is less of the type that leaves a fat tongue hanging out of your mouth in a desperate search for cold lactose. It’s more penetrating than that, permeating through to your core and the very marrow of your bones, leaving a subtle tingling sensation at the corners of your mouth on the way in. I don’t know how they do this, but it’s excellent. 

This is food that doesn’t just pay a visit to your taste buds, it conquers them outright. Planting the flag of flavour firmly into its new found territory to mark its occupation, the food from Ba Shan will leave an impression deep enough that you won’t be able to hold off your next visit for too long.

Liked lots: all of the food; the location
Liked less: was a little quiet at the start, but background music played later on; the menu link on their website is broken (prevents pre-dining anticipation build up)
Good for: authentic, fresh, real, regional Chinese food at good prices; blasting away a cold

My rating: 4/5

Afiyet olsun.

sabrina ghayour's persian supper club - review

I know a great local Indian (where Indian people eat too, believe it or not). Also a fabulous Thai, a wonderful Turkish mangal joint (obviously) that also does a mean buffet breakfast, and even my favourite places to go for Korean (which is New Malden in general as it has the largest population of Korean ex-pats in Europe and is a 10 minute drive from my home - a wonderful coincidence, I know). 

However, I don’t believe I can say the same for my local Iranian (or Persian, if you like). I don’t think I have a local Iranian. In fact, I think I’ve been to one Iranian restaurant ever, which was actually pretty good if I recall correctly. But my point is, unless I live in the wrong part of town or have been a bit slack in my dining establishment observations of late, I just don’t think there are that many Iranian restaurants out there.

The thing is, I know I would really enjoy Iranian food. Partly because it sits next to Turkey to the east which means a delightful mingling of ingredients, dishes and techniques across the border in both directions (and we all know how much I love Turkish food). Partly because food from the rest of the Middle East is some of the best out there - think labneh, hummus, falafel, manakeesh, baba ghanoush, fattoush. And partly because as I understand it, Iranian food is based around meat, fish, rice and vegetables often with the use of fresh green herbs, fruits and nuts, and characteristic flavours such as saffron, dried limes, cinnamon and parsley, and what’s not to like about all of that.

Whether there are great Persian eateries out there or not, I need little excuse to snap up the offer of a three-course-eleven-dish home cooked Iranian extravaganza, executed with all the love and attention of someone out to impress the in-laws by wowing them into submission.

And that’s pretty much what Sabrina Ghayour knocked out of the park at one of her Persian Kitchen Supper Clubs, held in her apartment in West London last week. While she toiled in the kitchen, persuasive aromas penetrated our olfactory bulbs moments before plates with equally impressive aesthetics were delivered to the table.

A huge platter of feta swimming in lemon, herbs and shallots required all the self-control of a recovering addict to prevent me from picking off every last cube - zingy, creamy and salty and a joy smashed onto the warm lavash flat bread, then dragged from rim to rim to mop up the divine marinade dregs. Aubergines were dealt with in that way that anyone who has eaten them like this wishes for them to be dealt with forever more, with flesh disintegrated into smoky magnificent mush after the fruit is held against a naked gas flame until the purple skin chars and blackens. Combined with garlic, tomatoes and eggs, this produced an exceptional aubergine dip which will in one way or another almost always involve itself in a Middle Eastern spread.

Regular readers may recall my vocal distaste for the fresh hell that is liquorice and all associated flavours: aniseed, fennel and so on (see my post the 10 most hated foods of the nation). Well, turns out that is no longer entirely accurate. Sabrina presented us with a fennel and Sicilian orange salad with a fresh dill, sumac and lemon dressing and it was, well, utterly gorgeous. Crisp raw vegetable, zippy dressing and the aroma of orange all up in my grill, mastication punctuated with bursts of the ruby jewels that are pomegranate seeds. The presence of aniseed was mild with any hard edges softened by the citrus. Turning what I thought I knew I liked right on its head, thanks Sab.

With these were spiced lamb meatballs with fragments of sour cherry wallowing in a rich San Marzano tomato sauce, so tender you could squash them between your tongue and the roof of your mouth with negligible effort. And because Iranians, Turks and everyone else over that way are at the complete mercy of yoghurt, there were bowls of it thick with dried mint, golden raisins and rose petals making the rounds.

Mains consisted of three handsome whole trout packed with a citrus-spiked herb and pine nut stuffing, and a slow roast shoulder of lamb dark with a concentrated spice blend and readily shedding its flesh from the bone at the whisper of a fork. Hunks of tangerine coloured squash topped with a vibrant green pistachio pesto, crumbled feta and piquant red barberries provided splashes of colour, while the steamed basmati rice with sugar, almonds, pistachios, sour orange peel and barberries was one of the most aromatic dishes I’ve ever waved my nose over and an entirely novel and delightful way to consume this otherwise very ordinary carbohydrate, even if the citrus peel was just a little too bitter for my preference.

The evening soon reached a point where myself and the other eight guests were floundering in our digestive juices, with only one able to entertain the dessert of spiced carrot, pistachio and almond cake at the table - the rest of us opted for a doggy bag to enjoy the next morning post food coma and with a very necessary strong coffee.

I’ve been to a handful of pop-ups and supper clubs in my time, but this was my first experience of dining in someone’s home, on their turf, in their personal space, with a bunch of people (bar a friend I brought with me) I’ve never met before. But it’s a superb format - like-minded individuals with an appetite for the unrivalled accolades of home cooked food who are after an evening of good chat, good wine (BYO of course) and an introduction to a cuisine and style of cooking they may not have been exposed to before. 

Not to mention all this was cooked in someone’s kitchen, in their home, with a normal domestic oven and hob and cupboards and plastic green chopping boards like the rest of us. Which leads us to believe that perhaps we could cook this stuff too. Which I’m sure is part of the whole point of Sabrina’s endeavours - to bring Iranian cooking to the masses and into our lives.

Sabrina has worked in some of London’s finest 5 star hotels, Michelin-starred restaurants and top catering companies, and has since turned her had to running her own events and catering business, teaching private cookery classes, and of course hosting these increasingly popular dinner evenings from her home. She has a whole host of other supper clubs coming up over the next few months covering a range of cuisines. I strongly suggest getting in touch with her to find out what and when and how to get in on the action. You can reach her on Twitter @SabrinaGhayour or drop her an email at sabrinaghayour@hotmail.com.

My rating: 4.5/5

Cost: £40 (please note this may vary)

Afiyet olsun.

imam bayaldi - turkish stuffed aubergines in olive oil

Any dish named after a tale involving an Ottoman cleric going weak at the knees due to its outstanding flavour is doing pretty well in the self-promotion department. Which is the case for imam bayaldi, literally translating from Turkish as ‘the imam swooned’. A physical reaction I often experience myself when consuming something great, so I totally get this guy.

Aubergine is one of the most revered ingredients across the Middle East, and this popular zeytinyağlı (olive oil) dish is one of the favourite ways to eat it in Turkey. It pulls no punches when it comes to the inclusion of the light green nectar; it is unashamedly oily and all the superior for it. 

Consisting of braised aubergines stuffed with an onion, tomato, garlic and herb mix and cooked in olive oil, its form breaks down to that characteristic and incredibly flavoured oily mush that this glossy purple fruit does so well. Different nuances of this style of eating aubergine can be found across Turkey and the Middle East and is almost unanimously adored by all who reside there; it's surely the best way to consume these tear-dropped treats.

On a recent trip to Istanbul (see my 10 Things to Eat in Istanbul post), I actually had this dish for the first time (how I had managed to avoid it until then I'm note entirely sure) and indulged in a bit of swooning myself. It was however sitting in a pool of olive oil and to conserve all of our arteries, I've used quite a bit less in my recipe than the purists would be happy to let slide, I suspect.
Imam bayaldi is normally eaten as a mezze (starter) and traditionally would accompany other small dishes to whet the appetite prior to the main meal. Therefore, half an aubergine is considered as one portion here. Should you wish for it to take soul centre stage, then accompany it with some quality bread to help mop up any remaining oily goodness.

Imam Bayaldi

Makes 6 starter portions

3 medium aubergines
6 small tomatoes
3 small white onions
4 cloves of garlic
2 tsp sumac
2 tsp dried mint
2 tbsp lemon juice
Extra virgin olive oil (a fair amount)
Sea salt (a fair amount)
Fresh flat leafed parsley (not included in these photos as I didn't have any, but do get it)

Wash the aubergines and peel alternating strips of the skin with about an inch thickness. Put them in a bowl, coat with sea salt and leave for 20-30 mins. The salt will draw out the bitter liquid from the fruit, and the stripes allow the aubergine to absorb more flavour during cooking.

In the meantime, make your stuffing mix. First you want to peel the tomatoes; the easiest way to do this is to lightly score a cross at one end of each tomato, plunge it into a bowl of freshly boiled water for a few seconds, and when you take them out the skin will easily peel away from the cross.

Finely slice the onions and grate the garlic and gently fry these in a very generous glug of the olive oil until they begin to go translucent. When cooked, put these in a bowl and combine with the roughly chopped skinned tomatoes, sumac, dried mint, lemon juice, salt and pepper and a good glug of extra virgin olive oil. Combine thoroughly. If you do have the parsley, roughly chop a good handful and combine with this mix. Set aside.

When your aubergines have had their 20 - 30 minutes simply wipe away the salt with kitchen paper. Peel off the little green bits around the base of the stalk. Slice the aubergines in half lengthways and try to slice right through the stem so half a stem remains on each portion. On the fleshy sides, cut a cross but do not go all the way through to the skin, and stop before you reach the edges of the aubergine.

In a couple of large pans, coat the bases with a very generous glug of olive oil and when it's hot, add the aubergines. You want to cook all sides so they obtain colour and begin to go soft. You may need to add more olive oil if it all gets absorbed.

Preheat the oven to 180C (fan).

Pack your aubergine halves into an oven dish, fleshy side up. Stuff each portion with some of the mix - try to push it right into the crosses. Pile any remaining mix on top of them. Drizzle with a further generous glug of olive oil. Add a splash of water to the base of the oven dish, and cover tightly with kitchen foil. Cook in the oven for 1hr 15mins to 1hr 30mins - it really depends on how soft you like your aubergine flesh.

When cooked, remove from the oven and allow to cool. This dish should be eaten at room temperature, so if you keep it in the fridge do take it out before hand to warm up prior to serving. Eat with other mezze dishes (perhaps some dolma), with quality warm bread and perhaps a little strained yoghurt.

Afiyet olsun.

Moussaka

Shopping lists are a vital part of my supermarket visits - without them I would wonder aimlessly and take twice as long to pick out half as much. They focus your time and your budget on the things that you actually need, and will eat. This week I decided to take it a step further and as any well meaning lifestyle TV show will tell you to do, planned what we were going to eat for the whole week and bought the ingredients accordingly in a single trip - I believe this is known in the industry as the 'big Saturday (or Friday) shop'.

This was the first time we tried this, and it's excellent. It involves one of my virtues and one of my loves - planning and food respectively. It also means several things - firstly, you get to indulge in a bit of recipe ogling as you flick through books, magazines and the internet to work out what you'll be rustling up in the week, in turn resulting in you already looking forward to Thursday's dinner whilst it still in fact only being Saturday morning. Secondly, you use up everything you purchase as you've accounted for it all - if you hate waste like I do, this is only good news. Thirdly, you're not faced with both yourself and the parter returning home from work at the same time and declaring 'so what's for dinner?' whilst exchanging blank looks. Fourthly, the amount of both time and money you spend in the supermarket is greatly reduced - if you're following a list you tend to steer away from 'special offers' which more often than not translate to BOGOF's that you don't really want, resulting in the GOF part being thrown away because it's gone off before you managed to finish the BO part. And finally, you have a tasty well thought out dinner waiting for you at home. You just now need to decide who's cooking it.

Dinner for the weekend often involves red meat (we tend to steer away from it during the week) and it had been more than a comfortable amount of time since I had rustled this one up. Lamb mince, aubergines, yoghurt and feta - added to the list.

Moussaka

Makes about 6 portions

2 onions, finely chopped
6 large garlic cloves, grated
500g lamb mince
1 tbsp tomato purée
½ tsp ground cinnamon
400g can chopped tomatoes
600g (about 2 medium) aubergines 
150ml Greek yogurt
1 egg, beaten
25g freshly grated Parmesan
50g feta
Dried oregano
Dried mint
Olive oil

Heat the oil in a large frying pan over a medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and cook, stirring until soft. Increase the heat, add the minced lamb and cook 5 minutes or so until browned. Drain off the fat in a sieve, then return the meat to the pan.

Add the purée and cinnamon and cook whilst stirring for 1 minute. Add the tomatoes, then half-fill the can with water and pour into the pan. Add a decent shaking of oregano, season, and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat and simmer, stirring occasionally for around 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, preheat the grill to medium-high. Cut each aubergine diagonally into 5mm-thick slices. Brush with oil, put half on a baking sheet and grill for a few minutes until golden on each side. Do the same with the remainder.

Preheat the oven to 200°C (fan). For the topping, mix the yoghurt, egg, dried mint and the cheeses. Season with pepper.

Spread half the lamb mixture in a deep oven proof dish. Overlap with half the aubergine and the rest of the lamb. Top with rest of the aubergine and spoon over the yoghurt mixture. Bake for 35 minutes or until golden and bubbling. Eat piping hot - bloody lovely.

Alfiyet olsun.

chinese spicy pork and aubergine

It's only taken 16 months, but I've finally made it inside my local Chinese supermarket Hoo Hing, about a seven minute walk from my house. And oh my - what a vast Aladdin's cave of exquisite and exotic ingredients. How the hell had I not visited before? I have declared it my best local discovery since the Mauritian food stall at Abbey Mills, Colliers Wood. Hardly really a claim for discovery seeing as it's been sitting there all this time, but I'm beside myself with smugness none-the-less.

I've been inside my fair share of Chinese supermarkets, many in Chinatown in London for a start. But on entering Hoo Hing, one of the first things you're greeted with which I haven't seen in any others, are huge blue tanks full of live sea-dwelling pickings - chunky lobsters clambering over each other with their claws taped shut, incredibly long and slippery eels (I don't think I've ever seen a live eel before!), and large flat turbots gracefully gliding about. Let's just reiterate this - I can buy live lobster seven minutes walk from my house - this is an absolute revelation. Not that I've ever attempted to cook one before, but at least now I can if I want to. And want I shall.

The vast array of beautiful fresh fruit and vegetables, alongside aisles of temptation in the form of jars and packets galore, I was hugely excited. Not to mention the fact this place also had a restaurant. So I sent Matt off to get the rest of the shopping list while I ordered some char siu pork buns. And they were excellent.

My new favourite food shop inspired me to cook something oriental for dinner, and I was already hankering for some aubergine whilst having my morning coffee (doesn't everyone think of dinner as soon as they wake up?). A basket full of far Eastern goodness and I was fully kitted out.

addictive chilli bean paste - notice almost
empty after just two days

Spicy Chinese pork and aubergine

The pork and aubergine go together very well in this fragrant stir-fry.

Makes about 6 portions 

(serve with rice or noodles)

Groundnut oil

3 x medium aubergines, halved lengthways and cut into 1cm half moons6-8 garlic cloves, finely chopped or grated

A fat thumb of root ginger, grated

2 x red chillies, finely chopped

500g pork mince

Chilli bean sauce (available from Asian grocers)

300ml hot chicken stock

4 heads pak choi, halved and sliced lengthways

Clear rice vinegar 

Toasted sesame oil

4 spring onions, thickly sliced 

2 tbsp cornflour, mixed with 4 tbsp cold water

Heat a wok until smoking and add two tablespoons of the groundnut oil, then fry the aubergine slices with a splash of water until softened and golden-brown all over. Transfer to a plate and set aside.

Wipe away the excess oil from the wok, reheat and add some more groundnut oil. Stir fry the garlic, ginger and chilli for a few seconds, then add the minced pork and cook until browned.  Add the chilli bean sauce (about 4 tbsp but adjust to taste) and the hot chicken stock. Return the aubergines to the wok and add the pak choi.

Season, to taste, with the vinegar and sesame oil and bring to the boil. Cook for 3-4 minutes then stir in the spring onions. Add the cornflour paste and stir until the liquid has thickened a bit. If you're still left with liquid don't worry about it, any rice will fully appreciate it.

Spoon the goodness into a serving bowl and eat with chopsticks. Gorgeous.

Startes consisted of some Chinese chive and pork dumplings found in one of the freezer aisles in Hoo Hing. Pop them in some boiling water for around 12 minutes and serve with whatever sauce you fancy - slightly gelatinous exterior with delicious insides. Just what I was hoping for.

Who needs a Chinese take-away when you have a local Chinese supermarket and a good wok.

Alfiyet olsun.