RECIPE | Pasta with chestnuts, mushrooms and a parsley pesto

pasta with chestnuts, mushrooms and a parsley pesto, paired with Veuve Clicquot's Extra Brut Extra Old

Here's a pasta recipe I think you might all want to try. Assuming you like mushrooms, that is. Fun fact: I really used to dislike mushrooms as a child; now they are one of my all time favourite ingredients. I always gravitate towards a mushroom dish when choosing from a menu, or mushrooms in my kitchen. Hooray for acquired tastes!

cooking up the feast - note that amazing
hunk of Parmigiano Reggiano

The nice folk over at champagne maison Veuve Clicquot challenged me to pair a dish with their latest bottle of bubbles, their Extra Brut Extra Old. This new cuvée is drawn from the maison’s famous collection of reserve wines, which is in fact one of the largest in Champagne. 

Whereas Veuve Clicquot's famous Yellow Label bottles are made up of 35-40% of reserve wines, 100% of Extra Brut Extra Old is made from reserve wines, from six different vintages –  1988, 1996, 2006, 2008 and 2010. All the wines have been aged for a minimum of three years in stainless-steel vats, then matured for at least a further three years in bottle in Veuve Clicquot’s cellars. 

The tasting notes go well with mushrooms and nuts, so I honed in on those two ingredients to make a very tasty pasta dish: linguine with chestnuts, mushrooms and a parsley pesto. It's in fact a much loved and used (by me) recipe from Delicious Magazine, and as I'd hoped, pairs fantastically well with the Extra Brut Extra Old bubbles.

You can find the recipe below if anyone fancies giving it a go; it's supremely easy, and a nice alternative to standard pesto. I bought those stellar mushrooms from Borough Market, but feel free to use chestnut mushrooms if they're easier to find. Please note from my pictures: the fabulously sweaty hunk of 36 month old Parmigiano Reggiano I brought back from Bologna and used with wild abandon in the pesto. Oh yes.

Pasta with chestnuts, mushrooms and a parsley pesto

Serves 4

stunning 'shrooms
from Borough Market

Ingredients
35g pack peeled and cooked chestnuts (I use Merchant Gourmet)
2 garlic cloves
4 tbsp chopped fresh flat leaf parsley
1 tsp lemon juice
125ml extra-virgin olive oil, plus extra for frying
20g Parmesan, finely grated, plus extra for serving
Large knob of butter
250g mushrooms, sliced
350g pasta (I used linguine)

In a food processor, blitz the chestnuts, garlic, parsley, lemon juice and some seasoning to a course paste. Slowly add the oil as it continues blitzing, then stir through the cheese.

Heat a splash of oil and a knob of butter in a frying pan over a medium-high heat. Add the mushrooms and fry for around five minutes until golden.

In the meantime, cook the pasta in a pan of boiling water until al dente. Drain and add to the pan the mushrooms are in, including a splash of the cooking water. Add the pesto to the pan too, and toss everything together whilst still on a low heat. Serve, and top with more Parmesan.

Tip: if you're enjoying this with Veuve Clicquot's Extra Brut Extra Old, I'd recommend keeping your champagne glasses in the freezer to frost up a little first, before pouring the bubbles. What a fab dinner - enjoy!

definitely had at least one cheeky glass while cooking this

Note: This is a sponsored post in partnership with Veuve Clicquot. It's been great fun and a pleasure to collaborate on - not to mention all the lovely bottles of bubbly they sent over. All views remain my own, as always.

RECIPE: Almond and thyme-crusted macaroni cheese muffins

A recipe for macaroni cheese muffins with an almond and thyme crust

I don't need much of an excuse to eat cheddar, a cheese that's most definitely in my top five favourites. So when the nice folk over at Danish cheese brand Castello asked me to come up with a simple recipe that 'breaks the rules', using one of their three Tickler cheddars, I needed little persuading.

macaroni cheese muffins
l

I've taken inspiration from a classic Cypriot dish called firin makarna (oven-baked macaroni cheese), where grated halloumi is used to make a cheese sauce, it's layered with lamb mince, baked in the oven, allowed to cool and harden, and served at room temperature portioned up into cubes. It's a different baked take on what is one of my favourite plates of food in the world: halloumi pasta with lemon and mint. 

Instead, I've stuck with a classic cheese sauce using Tickler Extra Mature Cheddar, omitted the lamb so it's good for veggies, added some spinach to help with the fibre quota, and jazzed them up with a thyme, almond and breadcrumb crust for extra flavour. I've also made them into individual muffin portions, so they're perfect picnic and party finger food. They're really very good. But then I guess it's hard to go too wrong with pasta and quality cheese.

RECIPE: Almond and thyme-crusted macaroni cheese muffins 

Makes around 18 muffins

For the cheese sauce
600ml whole milk, room temperature
50g unsalted butter
50g plain flour
350g block of Castello Extra Mature Tickler Cheddar, grated (keep 30g aside) (pic 2)
Fresh nutmeg
Black pepper

For the muffin crusts
2 garlic cloves
2 tbsp olive oil
1tsp butter
1//2 tbsp of thyme leaves
50g panko breadcrumbs
30g of grated Castello Extra Mature Tickler Cheddar (what you kept aside from above)
20g toasted almond flakes

For the muffins
400g elbow macaroni

70g baby spinach, roughly chopped

Here's the link to the step-by-step recipe for these macaroni cheese muffins with almond and thyme crusts on the Castello website for you to try at home. If you do, we'd love to know how it went! You can share your cheesy pasta muffins on Instagram and Twitter tagging @CastelloUK, or using the #DiscoverTickler hashtag. And tag me as well please - I'd love to see too. 

This is a sponsored post, in partnership with Castello, as part of their #DiscoverTickler campaign. I hope you get to try this recipe - it's GOOD. 

ingredients for almond and thyme-crusted macaroni cheese muffins

making the macaroni cheese muffins

making the macaroni cheese muffins

Related links
RECIPE: Halloumi pasta with lemon and mint

frescobaldi, mayfair - review

Swing a right down an alleyway opposite Hamley’s on Regent Street, and you’ll find yourself on a quiet and short strip of road called New Burlington Place. The only people that seem to know about it are the cabbies that turn into it from adjoining Saville Row for a three-point-turn, and to drop off the well-suited elite; there’s little else there. 

Except, that is, for new Italian fine dining restaurant and wine bar, Frescobaldi. Despite an almost complete lack of passing footfall, little launch fanfare, and having only being open for two weeks, it was almost full late Saturday lunch time. 

People knew it was on this invisible road, and were coming for it specifically.

If the name rings a bell, you may have seen their restaurant on the lower ground floor of Harrods, their branded Laudemio olive oil sold at Fortnum & Mason, or come across their outposts in Florence and at Rome’s Fiumicino airport.

Their major claim to fame though, and the focus around which this new restaurant is based, is that the Frescobaldi family produce wine, and have done for a very long time indeed (more information on that in this recent Independent article). 

It’s an involvement that dates back centuries. During the renaissance, we’re told they traded bottles with Michelangelo for works of art, and they were major financiers to the kings of England, with receipts signed personally by that great wine-quaffer, Henry VIII. 

Most of their nine estates can be found in the hills around Florence and Siena, and a range of wines from the likes of Mormoreto (a single-vineyard cru of Castello di Nipozzano) to the flagship Frescobaldi cuvée (Brunello di Montalcino Castelgiocondo Riserva) take pride of place on the new restaurant’s menu.

To launch this first independent site in the UK, the Frescobaldis have partnered with Good Food Society, a new hospitality venture promoted by fellow Turk, Levent Büyükuğur (also founder of Istanbul Doors, an international restaurant group with over 40 venues).

They’ve done very well with the interiors. A great wall of glass for the frontage, striking frescos of Italian renaissance characters painted onto the tiled walls, a great central column with shelves housing Tuscan paraphernalia and bottles of wine poured by the glass - it’s a handsome space.

At Frescobaldi, you’ll find the largest menu you’ve ever seen, in size rather than content - open, it’s almost as wide as the wingspan of an albatross. The extra maneuverability the broad and comfortable chairs provide are as good for big bottoms as they are for accommodating the perusal of the massive things; best to read them turned sideways for the sake of a smashed wine glass.

In it, a confident and concise menu with less than a handful of entries under each section: antipasti, carpacci, tartare, primi piatti (pasta), to share (salads, cheese and charcuterie), secondi di pesce (fish mains), seconde di cane (meat mains), contorni (sides).

Bread was great and made on site, the soft and salty focaccia still warm from the oven, crisp Sardinian flatbread entirely void of moisture, and the basket comes with a bottle of that Laudemio olive oil to glug at your pleasure. 

There were rippled sheets of seabass carpaccio with pink peppers, soy sauce and fresh curly celery strips, that could have done with a touch of astringency (£16). The lactating Puglian burrata, with rocket pesto and ripe tomatoes, was just about the creamiest I’ve encountered (£12.50). 

I thought the marinated black Angus beef with lentils and courgettes would come as a salad with cooked slices of steak, and I expected it to be dull. It was actually like a plate of joyous lemony bresaola, with a little gathering of fantastically dressed firm green lentils and tiny cubes of courgette (£15).

The wide ribbons of pappardelle with the veal cheek ragu were gorgeous - great bite and deep yellow from yolk. The pappy but pleasing sauce, quite sweet from the meat, needed the contrasting texture it got from a flourish of small crisp rosemary croutons scattered before serving - very good (£15).

There were small and soft dimpled gnocchi with porcini mushrooms and an earthy umami sauce, although I do like my dumplings sporting the marks of a longer fry (£15). The ossobucco was a loaded plate of flaking veal, flanked by a barrier of unctuous white polenta, and with a great slug of marrow that slipped out of the bone after just a little persuasion (£23).

Tiramisu came in an unusual format, a mound of yellow sponge, coloured from extra yolk I presume, with a moat of coffee sauce and bitter toasted beans. It was cleared in the same amount of time it took me to register it had arrived (£9).

They've been smart in making more of their wines accessible to diners, by offering small and reasonably priced pre-grouped wine flights. You get a taste of three glasses (125ml each), and there are different groups of three to choose from, ranging from £16 - £68. I had the Red Flight “Sangiovese” at £21.

Two female maître d's were wearing the same sophisticated monochrome dress that wouldn’t have looked out of place at a cocktail bar, and service was charming and very attentive, if a little too enthusiastic at the beginning of our early lunch reservation, when we were the only occupied table.
  
Fellow diners ranged from groups of American visitors, to distinguished and impeccably dressed Italian matriarchs enjoying a girly lunch, to young couples, to a Turkish family, which may have been a Mr Büyükuğur influence.

Like I said, I don’t know how these people knew it was there. I did, because my visit was in the capacity of critiquing it for the consumer publication for British Turks & Turkophiles, T-Vine (thanks to Mr Büyükuğur’s involvement).

But know about it, people seem to. And now you do too. 

Liked lots: accessible and reasonably priced wine flights, interiors, there’s also a very becoming bar below deck to enjoy both wines and spirits in

Liked less: Frescobaldi won’t win any prizes for ‘bargain restaurant of the week’, but considering the location and setting, it’s not trying to. That in mind, with a bit of considered ordering, you can keep a reign on the bill and enjoy a very good meal

Good for: respite from the hectic shopping streets of the West End, impressing a date

4/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun

Note: I was invited as a guest to this restaurant.

halloumi pasta with lemon and mint

There are few things more pleasurable than biting into the yielding flesh of a thick slab of smoky halloumi taken straight off the barbeque, blistered brown by the heat and relinquishing all its salty wonder with every bite. 

Society is now relatively accustomed to this firm and squeaky cheese traditionally made with the milk from goats and sheep and originating from Cyprus; it’s frequently used as a meat substitute in burgers and on kebab skewers, added to salads or served with vegetables. It can be eaten straight off the knife but is also often found grilled, fried or barbequed due to its unique quality of form that lends itself so well to the cooking process – it’s a cheese that doesn’t melt, it just gets a bit softer.

My father is from North Cyprus, so growing up surrounded by the fabulous Cypriot and Turkish cuisine (as well as excellent Mauritian cuisine from my mother’s side), I’m probably more accustomed to this cheese than most. And I therefore know just how versatile it can be. 

As well as the above, it is also traditionally found incorporated into bread dough and one of my favourite ways of devouring it, with pasta. This dish is one from my childhood - one of those where I’d get overly animated when I knew it was on the menu for dinner. I’ve carried it through to adulthood, frequently returning to it and sharing it with friends who have almost unanimously fallen for it at first taste. It’s one of the simplest meals in my repertoire consisting of a mere six ingredients, yet yields one of the biggest pleasure bounties.

Combining flavours of both fresh and dried mint, chicken stock and lemon juice with the saltiness of the cheese, the result is a plate of pure satiety. Serving the cheese in its grated form allows each mint laden particle to mingle with the lemony chicken juices and coat every bit of pasta. 

To make this dish vegetarian, simply replace the chicken stock with vegetable stock. Excellent eaten either hot or cold the next day, it makes the perfect accompaniment to some left over roast chicken taken on a picnic. We now just need to wait for the weather to humour us.

Halloumi Pasta with Lemon and Mint

Serves 4

200g halloumi

400g whole wheat pasta

2 litres of ready made chicken stock (or three chicken stock cubes)

2 lemons

2 tbsp dried mint

A few sprigs of fresh mint

Finely grate the cheese and mix with the dried mint. Chop a handful of the mint leaves and set aside. In the meantime, cook the pasta in the chicken stock. If you don’t have ready made stock, use three chicken stock cubes in around two litres of water. The liquid should cover the pasta by an inch or so. 

If the liquid gets too low before the pasta is cooked, add a splash more. You want most of the liquid to have been absorbed by the end, but with some still remaining.

Layer some of the grated cheese and mint in an empty shallow bowl per person. 

When the pasta is al dente, ladle half a portion into the bowl along with a little of the stock. Sprinkle another layer of the grated cheese, top with some more pasta, and finish with the final layer of cheese. Sprinkle with a generous amount of the fresh mint.

Squeeze the juice from ¼ to ½ a lemon over each bowl (depending on how much your guests like lemon – I like it a lot), and serve with a few more wedges should they wish for more.

Alfiyet olsun.

ponti's italian kitchen, oxford circus - review

There is no fresher hell than Oxford Street during the festive season. Step off public transport and say hello to the modern day version of Dante’s Inferno, all nine circles of it. 

Oxford Street is a strip of commonplace retailers and awful eateries. Along with the evil sibling that is Leicester Square, it is a place for tourists, out-of-towners and where patience goes to die. The closer someone lives to it, the less likely they will be found on it.

Almost every slack-jawed teenager, disorientated tourist, blinkered jogger, bullish bus, kamikaze rickshaw driver, meandering shopper and light-jumping cyclist within an arbitrary radius occupies this 1.5 mile stretch of arterial London road in the run-up to Christmas.

Entertain the area between the hours of 11 - 8 any day of the week and prepare to wade through full on family forces on day trips from the ‘burbs refusing to break their 5-person-wide formation, walk into oncoming traffic to get past the hordes lacking any sense of urgency, and sport bruised shoulders from all the barging. Unless my destination is Soho (for some of the best eating in town) or the Selfridges food hall, I try to avoid the area at all costs. Hell is (a lot of) other people, as Sartre so tersely put it.

Not everyone will agree with the grumbling grinch that lies within me. Some find delight in the festive shopping mania and the gaumless I’d-rather-be-playing-GTA faces of the spotty Saturday staff hauled in to match the crowds. And if these people are determined to brave the madness, there is a very real need for places that can relieve them of it. Refuges allowing shoppers to seek comfortable shelter and regain personal space whilst refuelling on decent food in pleasing surroundings are imperative. Ponti’s Italian Kitchen strategically located a stone’s throw from Oxford Circus station does just that, and rather well.

The Ponti’s Group is a UK Italian chain with a handful of subsidiaries. You have Caffe Italia found in airport terminals; Ponti’s restaurants in Watford, Wimbledon, Liverpool Street Station and Bluewater Shopping Centre (where I spent too many hours of my youth selling trainers in Footlocker then upgrading to skirts in Zara); and two Ponti’s Italian Kitchen’s on Duke street and John Princes Street (Oxford Circus), both in W1. The concept of the latter is to showcase quality ingredients from the Emilia Romagna region of Italy, where the roots of the family that has run the restaurant since 1963 lie. The Oxford Circus location is an altogether different kettle of pesce to the rest; befitting of its location, well thought out and believably authentic.

Strings of garlic and dried chillies suspended from the ceiling furnish the pizza bar at one end of the restaurant alongside a small deli, with cured meats and Italian biscotti mingling with the warm glow from the Christmas decorations in the windows. A Wednesday evening at 7pm and almost every table was occupied (and not all by tourists).

Sweet roasted butternut squash was served with wilted greens, very fresh and milky buffalo mozzarella and salty, crunchy nuggets of Parmesan breadcrumbs. Briny black olive tapenade and ice cold fleshy green olives from Puglia accompanied beautifully brittle flat Sardinian bread. Scallops wrapped in crisp parma ham were soft and seasoned and well acquainted with the garlic butter they were cooked in, served still in the pan alongside warm focaccia.

The cured meats were those of quality: salame piacentino (made from pigs reared in Emilia Romagna and Lombardy and then processed exclusively in the province of Piacenza), capocollo (Italian cold cut made from dry-cured whole pork shoulder or neck), Parma ham, cherry tomatoes, Parmigiano Reggiano, green olives and more bread.

Pollo alla piastra is a Christmas menu option and saw garlic and thyme roast chicken sitting alongside, honey glazed parsnips, cranberry sauce and roast thyme potatoes. An unobtrusive plate with meat that was well cooked, but who goes to an Italian restaurant for Christmas-spiked roast chicken? Not me. Stick to the pasta.

Which was really very pleasant. Large delicate ravioli parcels generously stuffed with spinach and ricotta, drizzled with sage butter, topped with a crispy leaf, fantastically seasoned and very satisfying.  

Side-stepping Christmas pudding which is wasted on me (I find it too rich, boozy and intense), the bomboloni were exquisite little packages of hot and sticky delight; doughnuts filled with sweet ricotta, glazed in acacia honey and with a wisp of citrus from lemon zest, served with vanilla pod ice cream and a second stomach in which to find room.

Four hours and almost two bottles of very good Pinot Nero from Emilia Romagna later, my companion and I rolled ourselves out, the final table to leave. You won’t find ground-breaking innovation, mind-blowing flavour combinations, or reductions painted onto your plate with a brush here. What you can expect are quality ingredients executed simply, in a warm eating-at-nonna’s-house atmosphere, in a very central location, for very reasonable prices. 

Have a seat and stay a while, or at least until the shops have closed.

Liked lots: atmosphere, service, central location, ravioli, wine, the deli to buy imported Italian goodies

Liked less: the Christmas menu (I never like Christmas menus)

Good for: forgetting just how much Christmas shopping there is left to do, and the limited time in which to do it; whiling away a few hours; taking refuge from the madness beyond the door.

My rating: 3.5/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

Note: I was invited as a guest to review this restaurant.

Carbonara

There are few feelings more enveloping in their warming comfort on a stiffly bitter evening than those conjured up by a big plate of hot and steamy carbs – specifically pasta.  In my opinion, the best pasta dishes are the most simple.  If you have some wonderful al dente linguine, parmesan, quality olive oil and black pepper, there’s often not a lot else you need to achieve full satiety.

With pasta comes the obligatory associated calories (of which I try my best to keep at least a lazy eye on), and so I regard these dishes as treats rather than regular occurrences.  But when I do throw my hands up in defeat after a long day at work, with a rumbling stomach doubled over in anticipation at the very thought of rolling in the digestive presence of an over-sized portion of pasta, there are three winter recipes I almost always turn towards.  One is pasta with chestnuts, mushrooms and a parsley pesto; the second is a Turkish pasta dish involving halloumi (a white cheese from Cyprus) and dried mint (I’ll save those two for another day); and the third is the classic and well-loved pasta carbonara.

Bacon with eggs is a flavour combination older than time itself, and one of the best.  Couple that with the filling qualities of pasta and the nutty saltiness of a hard Italian cheese, and you’ve got a plate of satisfaction able to transport anyone to their happy place.   

The recipe in this post is Matt’s take on the classic, and classics are there to be interpreted and provide a base for experimentation.  But if you want to be a purist about this, then by all means please do – I fully support it and it is the recipe I was brought up with when my mother would regularly make the dish.  To do so, just omit the parsley and mushrooms.  But if you fancy at least an attempt at the inclusion of one of your five a day (albeit a sorry one) to keep the guilt pangs at bay, as well as the wonderful extra flavours they bring to the plate, then keep them in.

There are a few additional rules I would strongly recommend.  These again lean towards a purist stance, but I favour them as I believe they provide the best taste sensation:

Rule number one – No to cream
The carbonara sauce should NOT include any cream, only eggs.  It’s an unnecessary addition that only renders the dish heavy and too rich whilst adding nothing to the flavour.  The common theory is that it was introduced by restaurants looking for a short-cut to achieve the creamy quality of a carbonara sauce, without having to contend with the perfect timing required when adding eggs to a hot pan and ending up with a creamy sauce as opposed to pasta alla scrambled eggs. If you find a restaurant that doesn't use cream in its carbonara, return.

Rule number two – Pecorino over parmesan
Use just pecorino. Or use a combination of pecorino and parmesan. But don’t only use parmesan.  It’s just a bit too overpowering in its cheesiness and claggy when melted when a lot of it is used (the quantity of cheese as well as the obligatory quality is necessary for this dish) .  Pecorino is made from ewes milk and is slightly lighter than parmesan, with an excellent level of saltiness.

Rule number three – Panchetta over bacon
Contrary to the photograph, you really want to source some quality pancetta instead of bacon.  Bacon is more of a last resort, but it’s an acceptable alternative when it is all you have in the fridge (as in this case) and an evening trip down to a decent supermarket is unlikely.

Rule number four – No black pepper? Forget it
You need black pepper, and lots of it.  Not having freshly ground black pepper to hand is in my mind a situation severe enough to not bother even starting the dish. Also, what sort of kitchen doesn’t have black pepper? If this is your kitchen, shame on you my friend.

Linguine Carbonara alla Matt

Makes enough for two people.

200g linguine
2 x large free range eggs, beaten
Chestnut mushrooms, roughly chopped
Panchetta or bacon – one pack
Handful of flat leafed parsley, very finely chopped
30g of finely grated pecorino
Freshly ground black pepper
Olive oil

Bring a large saucepan of well salted water to the boil. Add the linguine and cook until al dente.

Add the grated cheese to your beaten eggs in a bowl and ensure all fully combined.  Add lots of black pepper to this egg and cheese mix.  When you think you’ve added enough, add some more.  A bit more following this, would still not go amiss.

Meanwhile, cut the pancetta into lardons (if it didn’t already come that way) or the bacon into lardon sized pieces.

Heat a large, deep frying pan over a medium-high heat (woks are good for this), add the oil and mushrooms and cook for a few minutes until they’ve expelled their juices.  Drain off the mushroom juices into a bowl, then add the pork to the pan and fry until crisp and golden. 

Add a couple of spoonfuls of the pasta water to this pan to help the cooking sauce along, and add your parsley.

Drain the pasta (don’t worry if it’s not completely dry), tip it into the frying pan with the pancetta, mushrooms and parsley, add the mushroom juices back to the pan and cook for a couple of minutes to allow the pasta to absorb the juice flavours.

Remove the pan from the heat (this is important before the next stage), then add the beaten egg and cheese mixture, tossing everything together very well.  The heat from the pasta and mix will cook the eggs enough so that they’re not raw, but not scrambled – a wonderful creamy and coating consistency.

Season with additional black pepper and more shavings of the cheese.

Eat immediately in warmed bowls while piping hot.

A plate of food surely divinely intervened.

Alfiyet olsun.